#slight edit to wording because i didn't like how the line sounded

[kaciidubs]

Catnip and Kidnappings

Hi, 🧿 nonnie! This one's been a long time coming, and though it doesn't have much smut, I hope you still enjoy it! ❣ Summary: You just needed to go to the pet store for two things - so why were you suddenly in a car with a man you didn't know? ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Mafia! AU, fluff, meet cute, implied danger, slight humor, cat talk, reader is a bit sassy but so is Minho ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Two things. You just needed two things from the pet store, then you would be back home with your lovely tabby cat and show you’d been putting off for the better half of two weeks because it just ‘wasn’t the right time’.

So how, you ask, did you manage to find yourself hurriedly escorted away from the storefront of the pet store by a man you’d just met?

Well, you could target the beginning of the end the moment you stepped foot into the pet store, making your way to the cat aisle on instinct with your goal clear in your mind; catnip and premium cat food.

Premium cat food - you wished you could trick your furry child into eating a cheaper form of food, but his picky eater tendencies had set him in his ways ever since your mother decided to spoil him and introduce him to the world of Sheba pate and cuts of various meat and fish flavors; the same woman who claimed she didn’t like cats, yet bought him almost all of his toys.

Huffing out a quiet laugh at her change of heart, you bent to grab a box of the food packs, silently thanking the corporate gods that it was still on sale, before heading deeper into the aisle to grab the second item on your mental list.

You scanned the rack with the box still in your arms, adjusting it slightly every now and then until your eyes landed on the empty spot that usually had the brand of catnip you needed.

“Wonderful…”

“If you’re looking for catnip like that brand, you could go with the one with the red label - they look different because of the companies, but they’re really the same ingredient wise.”

“Oh, really? Thank-” The next word immediately died on your tongue as you turned your head, ready to thank a store worker but, instead, you were met with possibly the handsomest man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Sharp eyes and a nose that looked like it belonged on a marble sculpture, paired with lips set in a faint frown and the prettiest jawline you’ve ever seen - he was gorgeous.

He seemed to either not notice your brain freeze or blissfully ignore it as he stepped closer to pick up the container before placing it on top of the cat food box in your arms.

“I have three cats and they all like both brands, there isn’t really a difference besides the fact that you don’t have to use as much of this one as the other one, which makes it better considering the price.”

Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your brain kick back into gear, “O-Oh, okay, thank you so much!”

He hummed out a small sound of acknowledgement, giving you a curt nod and reaching forward to grab a container of his own; his eyes scanning across the small printed words for a moment before he looked to you once more. “Do you need help? Carrying that, I mean.”

“This? No, no, I’ve got it handled.” You adjusted the box once more, the catnip container sliding to the right until you balanced it out quickly, “All good, thanks again, though.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more than you already had, you thanked him once more and shuffled past him and out of the small aisle in record time, mentally cursing whatever line of fate led you down this path.

Placing your items on the conveyor belt, the cashier greeted you as they scanned your items and you typed in your rewards card onto the card reader’s keypad.

“Are you getting this, too?”

“What?” Looking up, you stared at the catnip in their hand with confusion creasing your brow.

“Um-”

“Yes, we are.”

The familiar voice made a chill run down your spine, your head whipping to see the same man from before, the faintest of curves to his otherwise neutral expression alleviating his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Shrugging lightly, the cashier proceeded to scan the second container before announcing the total.

Pressing his black card to the one-tap reader, he seamlessly slid it back into his wallet before stuffing it back into his pocket, “Think of it as a little gift for your cat, they deserve to be treated.”

For being stunned for the second time that day, your recovery was just as fast, “I’ll make sure to let him know a kind stranger cares about his picky habits.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, but that was more than enough to inflate your ego and make your heart flutter, quickly taking back your previous curse to thank fate instead.

After grabbing your bag of items, you made your way out of the store with your new companion following suit.

“So… Was that really just a gift for my cat? You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?” You mused, turning to look at him fully as you stood outside of the storefront.

Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense, “It’s just a gift - like I said, I have three cats so I know how it can get, better than most. Besides, the picky eater phase is really rough on the pockets at the worst of times.”

“Well, Miso appreciates your generosity.”

“Miso… cute.” He hummed softly, though his true excitement was evident in the small glimmer in his eyes.

“Do I have the honor of knowing your name?” Clocking the possible unintended implication of the question, you quickly backtracked, “Um- Just so Miso knows who he can thank while eating his pate salmon, of course.”

His lips parted to speak but closed twice as fast, his once relaxed smile turning into a firm line as he looked at you - almost enough to look through you, or rather, past you.

As you went to turn your head to gauge for yourself, you were stopped by the warmth of his hand around your wrist, winning your attention for himself like jingling keys in front of a baby.

“Let me bring you home, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

You felt your heart flutter, though you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine, “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to-”

“I just want to make sure you make it home safely.” His mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile and his grip tightened ever so slightly, “Trust me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere, aligning with the image of the kind man you’d seen in the pet shop, or perhaps it was the way his firm gaze flickered with a hint of urgency, but you found yourself nodding softly.

“Okay.”

With that, you were tugged down the sidewalk and around the corner, hurried footsteps falling alongside his long strides in hopes of keeping up.

“Is- Is there something wrong? What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine.”

You bristled at his nonchalant, clipped tone, falling back on your pace by half a step. “I have a feeling you weren’t lying to me before, so, please, don’t start lying to me now.”

Feeling your resistance, he took a short breath and spoke, “Nothing’s wrong yet, and nothing is happening - I’d rather keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“But what did you see?”

“Someone who has no business trying to approach me in public unless they’re looking to start something they have no chance of finishing. I have no desire in getting innocent people caught up in those types of affairs.”

“Those types?” Your eyes widened as you neared a black car - slim, sleek, and a model that you had no chance of owning for yourself on your current pay grade. “Are you-”

“I’m no one.” He shut you down with ease before reaching forward to open the passenger’s side door, “Get in.”

Putting a temporary pin in your conversation, you quickly slid into the car, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the musk of sandalwood and leather seats filling your nose; watching through the windshield as the black haired man rounded the car before sliding into the driver's seat.

“I don’t think a nobody just casually owns a car like this,” clicking your seatbelt into place and setting your bag on the floor, you shot him a wary glance, “if you’re going to kidnap me, Miso’s going to be royally pissed.”

The car’s engine roared to life, masking his light chuckle but doing next to nothing in hiding the slight uptick of his lips. “I’m not a kidnapper, though I’ll make an exception if Miso’s as cute as you make him out to be.”

With that, he shifted the gear and drove out of the parking lot, using the one-way street to get away from the pet store and the unknown assailant. Buildings and cars passed by in a blur after you told him your address, your hands nonchalantly turning your phone while the silence was placated with the sound of the engine and the radio - though, you had no hope of hearing what the song was from how low the volume was.

Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him, eyes tracing over his unfairly handsome side profile. “So… Is this the part where you tell me who you are?”

“I told you, I’m no one,” he hummed simply, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And I told you I don’t like liars - you still owe me your name, you remember that, right? Now, since you’re saving me from some unknown evil, you owe me a full introduction.”

He glanced over at you, amused astonishment filling his face, “For someone who’s in the hands of a complete stranger, you make a lot of demands.”

“Think of it as your atonement for giving me two new life experiences in one when I was minding my own business buying catnip.”

You could just barely catch him rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath and hearing the words ‘worse’ and ‘friends’.

“Minho.”

“Minho?”

Minho rocked his head to the side, huffing, “My name is Lee Minho, I have three cats - Soonie, Doongie, and Dori - and I’m a businessman. I like going to that pet store because they donate some of their profit to shelters, and I know about the catnip brands because I have three cats - changing brands is a nightmare whether it’s one cat or several.”

A small smile found its way to your lips at the new information, your mind running wild at the image of this enigma of a man playing with three cats of his own. “Okay… But, when you say businessman, what type of business do you do?”

“The type that prefers to go unmentioned to civilians for their safety.”

“What- Like working for some secret branch of the government? Are you a cult leader? A member of the mafia?” An incredulous giggle bubbled past your lips, though when his demeanor grew colder, your stomach dropped. “You’re… You’re not, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, granting him the grace to look at you, brown eyes locking to yours with a firm stare. “You never told me your name. If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my job - it’s your repentance for asking me more questions past my introduction. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t, but I won’t tell you my job.”

Your name for his profession, your safety in exchange for his safety - it was only fair, truly.

Taking a deep breath, your name fell from your lips with a small air of confidence, “You already know about my cat, and my job pays just enough to support his picky eating habits. I like that pet store because they hosted an adoption event that brought Miso into my life, and I’ve been supporting them ever since.”

He made a sound of confirmation before turning his attention back to the road, pressing the gas as the light turned green and continued the journey to your apartment.

His choice of silence was almost enough to have your conscience second guessing your decision, until you noted the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel; twitching, anxious, compared to the streamlined, firm grip he’d showcased at the beginning of the drive.

Eventually your apartment building came into view, the car slowing to a stop once he reached the front door.

“Well…” Lingering for a moment longer, you looked at him in hopes of seeing him turn to you one final time to honor his end of the agreement, but when he remained staring at the road ahead, you let it go. “I guess this is goodbye - thank you for what you’ve done for me, Lee Minho, I appreciate it.”

As you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending a chill down your spine and stealing your attention just like he did outside of the pet shop.

“I’m part of the mafia,” Minho spoke plainly, his tone emotionless, statement oriented, “the person I saw earlier was someone we’ve done business with before, some low life’s henchman most likely sent to get even, that’s why I wanted to get away like I did. I didn’t want our chance encounter to end with you getting hurt - you did nothing wrong, and I wanted to make sure you would be safe.”

The mafia… You weren’t sure if him being a cult leader would’ve been better or worse than this, but staring into his eyes, you could feel it wasn’t a joke, nor an elaborate cover up.

“What I said before, about not mentioning what I do for the safety of others… I swear to you that you’ll be safe after this - I’ll make it my personal job of making sure nothing happens to you because of this, okay? No lingering ties or deals to be made, you’ll be under our watch until we take care of that stunt they tried to pull.”

His promise eased the first stretch of fear growing within you, though the rest would have to be handled once you had the proper time to process your less than normal morning.

Nodding, you slipped your wrist from his grasp and grabbed your bag, turning to get out of the car until you froze.

“If you’re worried, you don’t have to-”

You leaned across the center console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a sign of gratitude, “Thank you, Minho.”

Reaching into your bag, you placed his container of catnip in his hand then quickly left the car - making your way up the flight of stairs to the lobby’s doors,only to turn around to see him patiently waiting for your entrance before slipping your way past the glass doors.

On the elevator ride up to your apartment, you couldn’t help it as your thoughts ran through the events like a film reel, though you weren’t sure if it was to get over the shock of reality, or to commit the image of that man to your memory.

Lee Minho, cat owner and catnip expert.

Lee Minho, morally gray mafia member.

Lee Minho, a man you hoped you would see in the pet store again.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: Tagged lovelies will now be done within the comments of the post due to Tumblr's tagging system being broken, thank you for understanding.

@luminouskalopsia, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @sometimesleeknows, @hyunjinloverrrr, @rhonnie23, @channieswife, @beautyinhypnosis

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[puckstories]

Stuck With Me | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Cursing, established relationship, kissing, idk what else. Only edited once.

Summary; Based on this request: "could you do a fic of reader feeling jealous and quinn being reassuring 💕tyy"

Word Count; 4.0k

Author’s note; This is not my best work at all, I'd probably rate it a 4/10 just because I didn't really flesh out the jealousy + the pacing is kind of rushed, but I'm tired of looking at it frankly. Possibly in the future I will go back and edit it and make it better. Thank you to the anon who requested this though, I hope you liked it at least a little bit. Also, it's not really mentioned, but Quinn is not drunk and is okay to drive home + Josh is Josh Norris, and Kaylee is just a character I made up, no one IRL. -Honey.

“You’re staring,” Josh comments, nonchalant as he leans closer to nudge your arm.

Startled, you tear your gaze away and take a long sip of your drink, using the glass as a shield. “I was not,” you mumble, trying to sound casual as you glance sideways at him.

Josh chuckles, the sound resonating just slightly over the music playing. “Sure,” he says, dragging out the word with a smirk that makes it clear he’s not buying your denial for a second.

You roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you lean back against the cushioned booth. No matter how hard you try, your gaze betrays you, drifting back toward the pool table across the room. Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass as you watch Quinn and Kaylee, their heads tilted close as they laugh about something you can’t hear.

You met Kaylee earlier, when you and Quinn first arrived at the bar. She’d come over almost immediately, her tall frame poised with an effortless grace that made you feel small and slightly disheveled in comparison. She was gorgeous—model-gorgeous—with sleek, fiery red hair that fell perfectly over her shoulders and striking green eyes that seemed to gleam in the dim lighting.

And Quinn had lit up when he saw her.

“She’s just an old friend,” he’d said casually, his hand brushing your lower back as he introduced you. They’d gone to college together, apparently, and while she’d been nothing but kind and polite to you, there was something about the way she made him laugh that stuck with you. It was freer, lighter somehow, as if she knew a version of him you didn’t.

She did, actually.

You knew it was irrational. You knew that Quinn loved you, that he hadn’t seen her in years and that they were just catching up. But the jealousy crept in anyway, an unwelcome guest settling in your chest. It festered beneath your skin, bubbling hotter and more insistent with every glance and every laugh they shared over the pool table.

“You’re doing it again,” Josh observes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Your head swivels back toward him, a guilty heat rushing to your face. “Doing what?” you ask defensively, though the slight waver in your voice betrays you.

Josh arches a brow, leaning back in his seat as he folds his arms. “Staring. Sulking. Probably plotting Kaylee’s downfall, if I had to guess.” His tone is teasing, and there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he studies you.

You groan, setting your empty glass down on the table with a soft thud. “I’m not sulking.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, clearly unconvinced.

“And I'm not plotting anyone's downfall!” you insist, but your gaze betrays you once again, flicking back toward Quinn and Kaylee. She’s leaning over the pool table now, lining up a shot, and Quinn is watching her with an amused grin, his arms crossed as he leans casually against the edge.

Your chest tightens. You know it’s nothing. You know Quinn is yours, that he’s coming home with you tonight, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind refuses to let it go.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” You don’t wait for Josh’s response, sliding out of the booth with your glass in hand. The hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter surround you as you weave through the crowded bar, bodies shifting just enough to let you pass. Your pulse feels louder in your ears than the bass thumping faintly from the overhead speakers.

When you reach the bar, you set your empty glass down with a quiet clink and take a seat on one of the worn barstools. The polished wood is sticky beneath your palms, and the faint scent of spilled beer and citrus lingers in the air.

You glance up, taking in the bartender, a guy with a mullet that somehow works on him, tattoos winding up his arms like intricate stories inked into his skin. He’s busy, sliding a tray of colorful cocktails across the counter to a group of friends celebrating a bachelorette party. You lean on the counter, your gaze drifting to the mirrored shelves behind him, rows of liquor bottles glinting in the dim light like a kaleidoscope of temptation.

After a minute or two, he finally makes his way over to you, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his waistband. “What can I get you?” he asks, his tone brisk but not unfriendly.

“I’ll just get a Jack and Coke, thanks,” you say, offering the bartender a polite smile. As he reaches for a glass, you lean slightly over the counter, your voice carrying just enough over the ambient noise of the bar. “And my boyfriend has a tab. Last name’s Hughes—put it on there, please.”

The bartender pauses for a moment, giving you a quick once-over before nodding. “Got it,” he says, turning toward the shelves with practiced ease.

You settle back onto the stool, your fingers tracing idle patterns on the sticky wood of the countertop as you glance around. Behind the bar, the bartender moves quickly, grabbing a tumbler and dropping in a few cubes of ice before reaching for the Jack Daniel’s. His movements are efficient, the kind that come from muscle memory, and within moments, the golden liquid pours into the glass, followed by a splash of Coke.

It’s a simple drink, nothing fancy or fussy, but that’s what you like about it—consistent, reliable, no surprises.

He sets the drink in front of you with a small napkin, the condensation already starting to bead on the sides of the glass. “There you go,” he says, glancing briefly in your direction before moving on to the next customer.

“Thanks,” you reply, wrapping your fingers around the cool glass.

Taking a sip, the familiar blend of sweet Coke and smoky whiskey slides down smoothly, the warmth spreading through your chest. It’s exactly what you need—not too strong, not too complicated. Just enough to ground you as you try to push away the nagging thoughts that have been buzzing at the back of your mind all evening.

Sliding off the barstool, you clutch your drink in one hand and begin making your way back to the booth you’d claimed earlier, until your body collides with something—someone—firm and unyielding. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you stumble back, your drink sloshing out of the glass and soaking into your white top. The cold liquid clings to your skin, staining the fabric a disgusting, murky brown.

“Shit, sorry,” the guy mutters immediately, his voice filled with genuine regret. He moves quickly, grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar behind you. “Here, let me—”

He leans forward, attempting to dab at your shirt with the wad of napkins. His well-meaning gesture only amplifies your frustration, the awkwardness of the situation making your cheeks flush. You set your now-empty glass on the nearest surface with a loud clink and grab the napkins from him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice clipped as you step back. “Thanks, I got it.”

You don’t wait for a response, brushing past him and heading toward the bathrooms. Your pulse pounds in your ears, a mix of embarrassment and irritation settling in your chest.

Pushing the door open, you’re relieved to find the women’s bathroom empty. The faint hum of fluorescent lights fills the silence as you approach the sink. With a deep sigh, you wet the bottom of your shirt under the cold stream of water, scrubbing at the stain with a dollop of foamy soap from the dispenser.

The dark blotch stubbornly clings to the fabric, refusing to disappear entirely. You scrub harder, the rough texture of the paper towels adding to your frustration. After a few minutes, the stain fades slightly, the color no longer as glaring as before.

You toss the soggy paper towels into the trash with a sigh of defeat, inspecting the faint brown shadow that still mars your top. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, resigning yourself to your less-than-pristine appearance. Moving to the hand dryer, you press the button and hold your shirt away from your body, letting the warm blast of air dry the damp fabric.

You let the hand dryer hum for another minute, the hot air doing its best to dry the wet fabric of your shirt. It’s still slightly damp when you decide to give up and leave the bathroom. The faint shadow of the stain remains, but you’ve done all you can. With a sigh, you smooth the fabric down and push the door open, exiting into the social minefield.

As you make your way back to the booth, the familiar knot of unease tightens in your stomach. It’s not just Josh at the booth anymore. The entire group is back now, including Quinn—and Kaylee, of course. They’re sitting next to each other, laughing softly at something, their heads tilted just close enough to make your chest tighten uncomfortably. Because of course they’re next to each other. Of course.

The frustration you’ve been trying to tamp down flares up again, prickling hot under your skin. You glance away, your eyes threatening to roll before you can stop them. But it’s as if Quinn has some sixth sense for your mood, because the second you look back, his gaze locks onto yours.

He smiles at first, the kind of warm, easy smile that usually makes your heart flutter. But then his eyes drop to your shirt, the faint stain still visible against the white fabric, and his expression shifts to one of confusion.

“What happened to your shirt?” he asks, his voice cutting through the chatter as he abandons his conversation. He slides a little further into the booth, making room for you to take your usual seat on the end.

You approach the table, sitting down a little harder than you intended. The irritation bubbling beneath the surface sharpens your tone, and when you finally respond, it comes out rougher than you’d meant. “What do you think happened?”

Quinn blinks, visibly taken aback by the edge in your voice. His eyebrows shoot up briefly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. The silence that follows feels heavy, the casual buzz of the bar suddenly too loud in contrast.

Quinn leans slightly closer, his voice softer now, careful, his breath hitting against your ear. "Are you okay?"

You exhale a long sigh, the weight of the evening pressing down on you as you lean into his side. The familiar warmth of his presence wraps around you, grounding you in a way that words can’t. “I’m fine,” you murmur softly. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

Quinn doesn’t hesitate, his arm slipping casually over your shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He presses a kiss against your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a brief moment.

“It’s okay,” he replies, his voice low, just for you to hear.

For the next little while, you sit in the booth, letting the conversation flow around you. Quinn dives back into catching up with his friends, his laughter easy and unguarded as he shares stories and memories you’re only half-listening to.

You chime in occasionally when someone calls your name, offering a small smile or a quick reply. But mostly, you let yourself fade into the background, content to simply exist beside Quinn. His arm remains draped over your shoulder, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your arm.

“…double date, right?”

You only catch the tail end of the sentence, your mind still drifting when you feel Quinn give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. The touch pulls you back to the moment, your eyes blinking as you try to focus.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, glancing around the table.

The group erupts into light laughter, the kind that feels good-natured rather than mocking. Quinn leans in slightly, his smile soft but amused as he repeats himself. “A double date. You’d be down for that, right?”

“Oh, uh… sure,” you reply, nodding quickly before the words have fully sunk in. Your gaze shifts between the faces at the table, suddenly feeling as though you’ve missed an important detail. “With who?”

Quinn’s smile widens, and there’s a playful gleam in his eyes. “Kaylee,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your mouth falls open slightly, caught completely off guard by the response. You blink, turning your attention to Kaylee, who’s sipping her drink with an easy grace. “You… have a boyfriend?” you manage to ask, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Kaylee lets out a light, melodic giggle, setting her glass down on the table. “Soon-to-be fiancé,” she corrects, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “At least, once he grows a pair and actually proposes.” She laughs again, shaking her head. “He’s working late tonight, so he couldn’t make it.”

Her words hit you like a freight train. Fiancé? Working late? You feel your stomach drop as the realization sinks in. All of your jealousy is baseless. Kaylee wasn’t flirting with Quinn; she wasn’t even remotely interested in him that way.

She had a boyfriend. Soon to be fiancé.

Heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks, the embarrassment washing over you like a tidal wave. You manage a small smile, but inwardly, you’re cringing so hard you wish the ground would swallow you whole. "Yeah, that'd be fun, for sure."

The next couple of hours fly by in a blur, and before you know it, everyone is saying their goodbyes, exchanging hugs and promises to meet up again soon. The warm glow of the bar’s lights spills out onto the sidewalk as you and Quinn step outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin.

It’s dark now, and a light drizzle begins to fall, the raindrops cool and soft as they dot your clothes. You glance at each other and break into a jog toward the car. By the time you reach it, the rain has picked up, turning from a drizzle into a steady downpour. You barely make it inside before the skies seem to open up, the sound of rain pelting against the roof filling the silence as Quinn starts the engine.

“Well, that was close,” he mutters with a small laugh, brushing the dampness from his sleeves before backing out of the parking spot.

The car is warm, the faint scent of Quinn’s cologne lingering in the air as he drives through the quiet streets. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the windshield almost hypnotic.

Then, his voice cuts through the quiet. “What was up tonight? You were quieter than usual.”

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, hoping to dismiss it. “Nothing,” you say.

Quinn glances at you briefly, his expression skeptical even as he keeps his focus on the road. “I know you,” he says evenly. “And I know it’s not nothing, so just tell me.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to look out the window. The rain blurs the city lights into streaks of gold and white, a beautiful distraction from the conversation you’d rather not have. “Quinn, I’m serious. It’s nothing,” you insist, your voice firmer this time.

He presses his lips together, his jaw tightening slightly. “Was it something I did?” he asks after a moment, his voice softer now, tinged with concern.

“No,” you reply quickly, shaking your head.

“Then what is it?” he presses again, his tone patient but persistent.

Your chest tightens, the question hanging in the air between you. It’s not that you don’t want to tell him—it’s just that you don’t even know how to put your feelings into words. The jealousy, the self-doubt, the small spiral you’d gone through earlier tonight—it all feels so petty now, so insignificant in hindsight. And yet, the weight of it still lingers, sitting heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You sigh, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window. "Just drop it."

At your words, Quinn pulls the car onto a quiet side street, the tires crunching over loose gravel before coming to a halt. He shifts the gear into park with a resolute click, his jaw tightening.

You turn to him, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?” you demand, your voice edged with confusion.

He leans back in his seat, shrugging nonchalantly, though his eyes betray his concern. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Quinn, I told you—it’s nothing,” you snap, the irritation bubbling to the surface. Your arms cross tightly over your chest, a defensive shield against his relentless prodding.

He shakes his head, undeterred. “And I know you’re lying.”

A frustrated sigh escapes you, sharp and heavy. “You know what? Fine.” You unbuckle your seatbelt with a jerky motion, the click echoing in the small space. “I’ll walk home.”

Before Quinn can respond, you fling the door open and step into the storm. The frigid rain pelts down, soaking through your clothes almost instantly. The dirt road beneath your feet churns into sticky mud, clinging to your shoes as you march away, your defiance burning hotter than the cold seeping into your skin.

“Y/N!” Quinn shouts from the car, his voice cutting through the rain like a lifeline you refuse to grab. When you don’t stop, he curses under his breath. You hear the unmistakable sound of his seatbelt unclicking and the slam of his door.

The rain muffles his footsteps, but you know he’s chasing after you. “Y/N, wait!” he calls, urgency threading through his voice. You don’t slow, your pace quickening despite the mud threatening to pull you down.

“Y/N!” Quinn’s voice grows closer, and you finally halt, spinning around with enough force to startle him. He skids to a stop, but momentum carries him forward, and he stumbles into you. His hands instinctively reach out, gripping your arms to steady you both.

“You want to know what’s wrong, Quinn?” you snap, your voice trembling with more than just the chill. Rain streaks down your face, mingling with the tears you can no longer hide. “I’m embarrassed, okay?”

His hands drop, and for a moment, he just looks at you, water dripping from his lashes and the ends of his messy hair. “Embarrassed?” he repeats, his voice soft, almost incredulous.

You wipe at your eyes with a trembling hand, though the rain makes the gesture futile. “Yeah, embarrassed,” you admit, your voice barely audible over the steady drumming of rain. You look down, unable to meet his eyes. “I thought Kaylee had a thing for you.”

Quinn blinks, clearly taken aback. “I—you what?” he stammers, his brows knitting together in confusion.

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cold rain. “I thought she liked you,” you repeat, more firmly this time, though the words still sting as they leave your mouth. “But she has a boyfriend, so obviously she doesn’t.”

“She’s just a friend from college,” Quinn says, his voice steady, as if the explanation should settle everything.

You nod, but it feels hollow. “I know.”

“And even if she was single,” he continues, stepping closer, “I’m not.”

His words make you glance up despite yourself. The weight in his gaze pins you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

“I have a girlfriend,” he says, his tone softening but no less resolute. “A girlfriend who makes me chase after her in a rainstorm in the middle of the night.”

The corners of his lips tug upward into a faint smile, though there’s no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes. Your heart twists at the realization—you’d been so caught up in your own doubts that you hadn’t stopped to consider how much he’d already chosen you.

The rain pours around you, but the world seems to shrink to just the two of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning.

“Quinn—” Your voice falters. You search for the right thing to say, something that can express the tangle of emotions inside you. Embarrassment. Relief. Gratitude. "I usually never get jealous like this. I'm sorry."

Quinn’s expression softens as he reaches up, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The rain pelts in a steady, rhythmic drizzle around you, the droplets catching the light from the streetlamp above, creating a soft halo that bathes you both in a muted glow. He smiles, not in the least bit fazed, his eyes warm and reassuring.

"It's okay," he says simply, as if it's no big deal, his tone so calm, so easy, that it almost makes you feel like your jealousy was nothing at all.

"Quinn, I'm serious," you say, your brows knitting together as you try to convey just how sorry you truly were.

"Baby, it’s okay," he repeats, his voice low and full of understanding. "We all get jealous sometimes," he continues, his fingers now gently brushing your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin as if he’s trying to soothe away the tension. "I just ask that next time, you talk to me about it, okay? I want to know how you're feeling."

His words are earnest, leaving no room for doubt. He’s not upset, just asking for honesty—asking for you to trust him with those feelings. And that, more than anything, makes your heart soften.

You nod, the weight of your earlier emotions starting to ease. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn’s smile deepens, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes as he gazes down at you. He reaches out, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your damp cheeks, wiping away the raindrops that have begun to cling to your skin. Then, without another word, he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

The world around you seems to fade as his mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate, his lips warm and soft despite the chill of the rain. The kiss is intense, full of emotion, as if he’s pouring everything he feels into it—the reassurance, the love, the unspoken promise that he’s here for you, and only you. Your arms find their way around his neck, pulling him closer, and in that moment, the jealousy, the embarrassment—it all melts away, washed clean by the feeling of his lips on yours.

The rain continues to fall, droplets dancing off the pavement, but all you can feel is him—the solid warmth of his body against yours, the softness of his hands cradling your face. The streetlight above flickers softly, casting the two of you in a golden glow, making the moment feel like something out of a dream, something ethereal and untouchable.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, and for a moment, you just stand there, catching your breath, your hearts beating in sync.

Quinn looks into your eyes, his gaze steady and full of love. "And for the record," he says, his voice low and serious but with a teasing lilt at the end, "I don’t want anyone else. You’re stuck with me, okay? Deal with it."

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes your lips, the tension fully gone now, replaced by warmth and affection. The way he says it—so matter-of-fact, so confident—makes your heart swell. You shake your head, smiling as you look up at him, the rain continuing to fall around you both, but in this moment, you’re completely lost in each other.

"I love you," you whisper, your fingers threading through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, this one softer but just as full of meaning.

[gingerjolover]

You're Losing Me - Part 3

Warnings: RPF, angsty + sad, desperate!naomi, neglectful!naomi?, issues in relationship, fighting?

g's notes: surprise shawtayyyy - also sorry this is late, i went out drinking on sat and then was watching the SuperBowl (congrats to kylie kelce's husband's brother ig)

also barely edited but i will be going in tomorrow or the next day to redo allll of my tags, make a tags post, and edit my fics <3

Naomi, sitting at the computer practically steaming with annoyance, is completely oblivious to you waiting outside. They feel stress regarding the fight, that much is obvious, but also a little bit of a sunk-cost fallacy regarding the work they need to get done. Plus, there's a small part of them that believes this will blow over quickly, maybe spending a night apart will be good for the two of you.

So they keep working, feeling a little bad about it, reflecting on how they could've controlled their anger, trying to convince themselves that the defeat in your eyes was nothing more than exhaustion. Slowly, Naomi starts to feel slight resentment, how could you just leave, yeah they agree that space is great but was it the most mature decision coming from you?

After a while, Naomi's resentment begins to simmer down, replaced with a mix of remorse and confusion for what just happened. They realize that they didn't even acknowledge you or your feelings and that it's too late to fix their mistake, wishing they could have extended even a sliver of patience with you.

"Dammit," they say quietly to themselves.

They take a deep breath and continue to work on their computer for a while, but their focus is beginning to fade. They start to feel like their work isn't as important as they are making it out to be; maybe it never has been, and they want to fix their relationship first.

Naomi goes to check your location, seeing that you're not even halfway to Jo and Kelli’s, and it confuses them. Didn’t you leave right after they went inside? Or were you waiting for them to come back out? Did something happen to you on your drive? It’s been over an hour since Naomi started working again. Worry sinks down in Naomi's stomach, settling like a rock.

Naomi wouldn't be able to live with themselves if something happened to you, so they don't even text Jo or Kelli and move to call you. Leaning against the doors of their office, the repetitive rings while they wait for you to answer, causing their heart rate to speed up, the nerves of the unknown and the potential ramifications of this coming-to-head boiling inside them.

Their mouth is a bit dry and they are struggling to control their breathing, wishing that you'd would just pick up the line.

“Yes, Naomi,” you answer deadpan, so unlike your usual sweet, bubbly, and loving greetings, your voice lacks emotion. Naomi cringes at the volume of your voice but can hear the sounds of the road beneath your tires and that you're using Bluetooth in your car.

How you answer the phone sets Naomi's heart racing just a bit more. They feel the guilt weighing on their chest again, like a heavy animal, giving no reprieve or time to get air into their lungs.

"Hey…" they say quietly, "…can we…umm…talk this out? Because this feels…"Naomi stutters, struggling to find the right words to say.

"…bad," they finally breathe out.

“This…feels— bad?” you ask, almost a little confused, tone still defeated and annoyed.

Naomi bites their lip as they hear your response, the confusion and annoyance in your voice evident at their simplistic answer.

They close their eyes and take a deep breath, trying to compose themselves.

"No, no, this isn't just bad…it's like, a train wreck," they finally say, starting to get slightly frustrated again. "This fight is...the biggest one we've had in, I don't know how long... maybe ever. We haven't even had a small one in forever. You and I are always on the same page."

There's a pregnant pause. Naomi can hear you breathing, the sounds of the road accompanying your deep breaths.

“Do you still love me?” you ask quietly, voice insecure and small.

Naomi feels like they just got punched in the mouth. The shock and hurt that pairs with the realization that this isn’t just a fight rocks Naomi to their core. Had their actions pushed you so far that you think this might be over? That Naomi might not love you anymore?

Naomi feels the air sucked out of their lungs, their skin feels like it’s on fire. You are everything. There’s nothing without you and nothing Naomi wouldn’t do for you. They want you to be their wife, the mother of their children (still undecided about that), and their life partner. Naomi never wants you to doubt their love for you and yet, here you are asking exactly that.

Naomi's heart shatters as your tone makes them realize how far this has gone.

"Yes, of course, I love you," they say, sounding a little angry and confused at how you could question that. "Why are you asking me that? How could you ask me that?"

Naomi feels their heart race at this moment, confused about how this suddenly turned so serious. How could you go from not wanting to talk to them to questioning the very nature of their love in an hour?

“But are you in love with me? Do you wanna still be with me?” You ask, voice shaky and a little crackly over the Bluetooth in you car.

"Yes!" Naomi says, their voice raised slightly. "W-what is going on right now?!" they ask. "Of course, I'm still in love with you! What the hell is this? Please let me know why you're thinking about these things." They pause for a moment, starting to feel a little bit hurt by your question.

There's another pregnant pause. Naomi can hear you stutter, like you want to say something but cant find the words. They can visualize it now, your jaw slack, eyes wide and doe-like, trying to find a way to communicate, and even after the devastating blow that was your questions, Naomi feels nothing but annoyance.

"I am not the one making this harder than it should be…" they mutter.

“Because of that! Why are you so angry with me all the time? Why can’t I spend 5 minutes with you when you’re not talking about MUNA or on your phone or computer? Why can Kelli and Jo go and do things? Why can Katie go on vacation? Why can't you and I do those things? Why are we struggling to be on the same page? What about me makes it so difficult for you to give me time when I’m telling you how I’m feeling?” you ask in a slight, passionate tone laced with hurt.

Naomi stops talking as you start going off, trying to process what you're saying.

You're speaking only facts, things Naomi had denied before but now realizes might actually be true. Naomi never intended for you to feel like this. Naomi has always preached about a work-life balance, never wanting to be blinded by the work they do, so much so that they forget how to be a good partner. And even though you're right, they feel caught off guard, feeling like you're angry at them for something that, at least in Naomi's mind, was done unintentionally.

"I…" they begin to say. "I…don't know."

“Is it me? Is something wrong with me?” you ask, Naomi’s heart cracking into a million pieces.

If there was a question that would shatter Naomi's heart right now, that was it.

"No, no no no! Nothing is wrong with you," they say quickly.

Their words seem to be doing little to soothe your feelings, and for a second, they realize that this "fight" might actually be the beginning of an end.

"It's not you…" they start to say. "I mean it's…it's…" they feel a lump in their throat as they start not knowing what to say anymore.

“If it’s not me, then I— I can’t understand why everyone gets your time but me,” you say, tone defeated and sad, voice so small and unsure of yourself, humiliated that you're allowing yourself to sound like this.

Naomi feels a tidal wave of guilt wash over them after hearing your voice, knowing it's killing you inside to feel so small and like you need to beg for attention. Naomi paces, suddenly feeling anxious at the realization that they are truly the villain, pushing you back into the feelings you had in your childhood, having always promised to be better than what you had before.

"Please, sweetheart, it's not like that, you know that," they say, sounding desperately like they are trying to find the right thing to say to make you feel better.

"I've just…been stressed and overwhelmed and, yeah it doesn't give me the right to ignore you like I have, but it's…but it's not personal. I just…." they trail off, not knowing how to finish that sentence. They're starting to feel defeated and confused themselves, not knowing why they've acted the way they have.

You sniffle softly, Naomi's eyes squeezing shut, their fingers pinching the bridge of their nose as they hear you cry softly.

"I didn't mean to fight with you," they manage to say quietly.

Naomi feels lost now, the feeling of remorse and guilt taking over their body again. They don't want this; they want to fix things, to work it out.

“I’m tired Nomi,” you say softly, tone defeated and exhausted. The pet name for Naomi sent a dagger through their heart, the name usually used in between kisses or giggles, sounding sweet and soft from your lips sounds drained now.

They can hear how defeated and tired you sound and know that they've done something terribly wrong. But they're just unsure of what to do to remedy the situation right now.

"Maybe we just need some sleep, and when we are recharged and rested, we can..." they suggest quietly.

“I’m tired,” you say, cutting them off, voice soft but definitive.

Naomi's blood runs cold. Tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of begging for normalcy, and regular conversation. Tired of being ignored or forgotten about. Tired.

"I…I know you're tired, honey," Naomi chokes up, sitting down on the couch, elbows resting on their knees.

"I'm sorry..." they start, breathing out, "I- you don't deserve to feel this tired, can we... do you want to talk about this after you get some rest? Are you almost at Jo's?" Noami asks softly, defeat lacing their words.

“Yeah...will you have time?” you ask, snark missing from your voice genuinely asking.

"Yes!" Naomi says quickly. "Of course, I'll have time to talk to you, whenever you want, I'm not doing anything else important."

Naomi pauses momentarily, feeling more confused by your question.

"Did you think I'd tell you no?" they ask.

“…Yes?” you respond softly, pulling into Jo and Kelli's driveway.

Naomi is stunned to hear that answer. They're speechless for a second, not sure of how to respond. Earlier when you asked it was snarky, this was a genuine question... had Naomi really proven to be so dismissive?

"Honey…you know that I don't think of you as a distraction that I need to get rid of?" they ask, with a tinge of sadness and frustration in their tone.

"…you know you're my favorite person in the whole world, right?" they ask with no snark in their voice, just genuine concern and confusion.

“I... it just hasn’t felt that way for the last few weeks…” you respond, staring at Jo and Kelli's front door, deciding its now or never, the opportunity has presented itself to have a real conversation about this.

Naomi is quiet for a moment. "…has it been that long?" they ask quietly.

This is beginning to hit Naomi harder and harder the deeper this conversation gets. You've been trying to communicate with them, and Naomi hasn't been listening, not really. Half listening at best.

"Are you saying you haven't felt like my favorite person for a few weeks?" they ask curiously, shame in their words.

“Naomi it’s been like a month,” you say softly, voice muffled. Naomi can practically visualize you running your hands over your face in frustration like you do.

Naomi's heart drops. A month…so this has been building up for longer than they realized. They feel their skin start to heat up. You've felt upset and neglected for a month, and Naomi didn't even realize it.

"Oh my god…" they groan. "…What the hell have I been doing?"

That question is more rhetorical than anything, but it's like it escaped, the utter stupidity that Noami feels is escaping out of every pore. "You've been trying to talk to me about this, and I've been…ignoring you…"

“Not so much ignoring but… distracted yeah… and I get it, I’m not… I’m not asking you to put me above MUNA; I know how much you love the band, and I would never ask you to choose. I just feel like,… what’s the point anymore? I’m practically begging you to pay attention to me,” you say, verbalizing the very thoughts Naomi had gathered in the last 15 minutes of this conversation.

They have spent so much time focused on their work and on the band's new album, and not nearly enough time putting it aside to give you the attention, love, and reassurance that you deserve in a partnership.

"You feel…like you're begging for my attention…?" they ask quietly. "Is…that really how you feel?"

“I mean I left the house today and you got mad and it’s like… you were supposed to come with me… we had plans, I— Emilia’s baby shower was today, and you just—“ you stammer, overwhelmed by the bluntness of this interaction.

Naomi feels a lump in their throat as they think about that. "Emilia's baby shower was today…? Honey, you didn't tell me, did you?" Naomi's voice is filled with confusion and guilt. "Why didn't you tell me you needed me to go with you to this?"

“Naomi, I did, multiple times I mean you even asked me why I was dressed up this morning before we fought. It was in the goddamn calendar! I shouldn't have to ask you to go to events with me!” you say, voice riddled with annoyance and a defensiveness that surprises Naomi.

Naomi feels what's left of their heart drop into their stomach. "I…I don't…remember you telling me…" They take a deep breath, trying to process that information. How did they not remember you were going to a baby shower this morning? Of course, that's why you were dressed up all pretty and holding a gift bag. And it was for Emilia, your close friend, not just some acquaintance.

"God, what…what is wrong with me…" they say, sounding like they're fighting the urge to cry.

“Because I talk and you don’t listen, this is what I’ve been trying to say. It’s why I’m questioning if you even want this anymore! You’ve never been like this, and if there’s something deeper you need to tell me, I can’t keep doing this,” you say with finality.

Naomi starts to tear up, their heart filled with shame as they listen to you talk. You're telling Naomi something they already know in their heart; they just didn't want to fully accept that they hadn't been fully present in the relationship.

"That's…not…I want this, honey …" they whisper. They feel like they're struggling to get the words out, like climbing out of a burning house, trying to save what's inside. "You're my best friend…you're the love of my life, and I want this more than anything…"

They pause momentarily, letting these words sink in for both of you.

“Then fucking act like it!” you exclaim, finally fed up. “I’ve been with you through two album productions and releases, and we haven’t had this issue, so if I’m not the problem and it really is the album and you are so overwhelmed fucking ask Katie and Jo to help you and act like you want to marry me,” you say, definitiveness in your voice, leaving nothing unsaid.

Naomi feels their heart sink even further as they hear how you are talking to them right now. And you're right. Naomi knows you're right, they hadn't been present or attentive or caring, but hearing you express it so pointedly this way still hurts.

"I…I want to marry you." Their voice falters and breaks as they say this, their sadness and shame coming through loudly in their tone. "I do."

“Okay,” you breathe out, unsure where to go from here.

Unbeknownst to Naomi, Kelli sees you sitting in the driveway, opening the door and waving with a sad smile.

“Look um, Kelli just opened the door so— I’m going to go in…”

Naomi feels the spot where their heart used to be pulse, feeling like something is crawling up their throat, struggling to breathe. They want to fix this right now, they need to.

"Can you talk for a second longer, please? I know you probably need some space, but I'm starting to realize how little I've given you these last few weeks…" their voice is filled with sadness and guilt. "Please…can we talk about this in person?" they ask quietly, not even caring how desperate they sound.

It takes everything in Naomi to try and mask the disappointment they're feeling, knowing that they wanted more time to fix this problem that they've caused.

"It's getting late I- I'm tired, I'm not driving back to the house now," you explain softly, rubbing your face.

"Right, yeah... no I get it," Naomi mumbles, wiping their eyes.

There's a long pause, the only sounds that can be heard are breathing from each other.

"I'm sorry I've been so distant lately, I do love you…I love you more than anything, honey" they say softly.

“I know, Nomi."

Naomi feels like they're on fire. Your response doesn't contain you saying "i love you" back. Naomi is quiet for a minute, digesting everything you've talked about. They start to notice how quiet the line has become and wonder if you've hung up.

"Are you still there?" they ask quietly.

“Yeah."

"Can…can you do me a favor then, please?" Naomi says quietly, their voice sounding small and vulnerable.

"Can you just…tell me that you love me?" they ask.

“Naomi—“ you start before Naomi cuts you off, really needing to hear that you love them, even if they don’t deserve it.

"Just…just say it, please," they plead, their voice small and full of anxiety; sharp intakes of breath are doing nothing to halt the turbulence in Naomi's chest.

“Naomi, take a deep breath,” you say delicately; Naomi can hear shuffling and the car door slamming as you get out of your car. Naomi takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm in this moment,

"Please say that you still love me," they beg gingerly.

“Naomi, I love you, I do… okay? I wouldn’t have gotten this upset if I didn’t," you respond tenderly, leaning against your car.

"Are you wearing your ring?" Naomi whispers.

"I’m still wearing my ring; please take a deep breath,” you say gently.

Naomi feels their heart soften a little after hearing you say those words. The guilt creeps in when they realize that even after hurting you, you're still comforting them. They hate how confident it makes them to know you're still wearing your ring. They feel terrible about this whole thing and about how much they've hurt you, but you wearing your ring gives them hope that this is something they can come back from.

"I'm so sorry, baby, so so sorry. I'm sorry I've been…distancing myself like this, honey…it's not right. Can you…can you forgive me?" Naomi asks quietly.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Naomi, okay?” you say, walking towards the front door. Kelli's eyes are full of empathy, staring you down. Jo stands behind her, furrowing her brows at your tear-stained face.

Naomi stays silent, feeling like a creep for trying to hear your surroundings, hating that youre at Jo and Kelli's instead of home with them.

"Tomorrow, okay. I love you," they say quietly, wanting to hear those words from you again before hanging up.

“Tomorrow… try to get some sleep,” you say, knowing Naomi probably won't sleep, the same as you.

"I will," Naomi says quietly, hoping they sound convincing, wincing when they realize you've always been able to see right through them. "…can I call you tomorrow or should I just wait for you to call me?" they ask nimbly.

“I’ll come home after work; how does that sound?” you ask, voice light and delicate now that you're in the comfort of your friends' home.

Naomi feels a wave of relief washes over her at the thought of getting to fix this face-to-face tomorrow. "Yes, okay, that sounds great; okay, goodnight," they say quietly, ready to hang up before something crosses their mind. "Oh, um, one more thing…" they feel the weight of the impending question on their chest.

"How was the baby shower?" they ask, ashamed.

You sigh softly. Naomi can see how you rub your eyes when you sigh in their mind. “It was— it was good, yeah… Emilia missed you, I— I covered for you, told her you were busy… I think you would’ve enjoyed it,” you say tenderly, trying not to add on to the growing list of grievances.

"Oh…"Naomi suddenly feels a flash of guilt hit them as you mention how Emilia missed them. They hate the thought of that.

"I'm sorry I missed that, and I'm really sorry that you had to explain my absence," they stutter, apologetic and guilty. "What did you tell her…about why I wasn't there? Just…busy, or did you say anything more than that?"

“Naomi, I’ll— we can talk tomorrow, yeah? When I get back to the house, I— I gotta go,” you say softly, Jo and Kelli's concerned faces watching you as you hold your head in your hands, trying to stop yourself from crying.

Naomi feels a lump in their throat as they realize you're trying to get off the phone. "Okay…yeah. Okay, that's fine…we'll talk tomorrow." There's hurt in their voice as they say this; they hate sleeping tonight without fixing this. The thought of not sleeping in the same bed makes Naomi nauseated. The worst part is that Naomi is why you're not curled up in your shared bed right now.

"Okay, goodnight, I- I love you...so much," they say genuinely, words cracking.

“Goodnight,” you whisper right before you hang up.

Naomi stares blankly for a minute, trying to calm down and compose themselves. Their heart feels like it was ripped out, and knowing that you probably feel worse makes it feel like it's being stomped on. They can't believe how they've treated you the last few weeks, the missed calls and dates, the lack of communication, the whole co-existing in the same house like roommates is too much for Naomi to think about without spiraling. All they want to do is hold you and tell you how sorry they are. But they know you aren't in the mood for that; you want some space, and Naomi plans to respect that.

As they crawl into bed later that night, your cat and dog occupying the space that is yours, Naomi lets themselves cry, before shaking it off and coming up with a plan to get you back and be the best partner they can be.

[sizzleissues]

Continued Speak my Language just a slight bit if anyone’s interested.

Edit : Got an Ao3 link now <- Both one-shots up

Again, base idea by @nervousbelieverstarfish

Hold On (1407 words)

She was always quiet at first. They’d find their spot at the back of the school library; the classics section that no one was ever in unless they wanted privacy and set up there. After the first day when they had found the main area too bright and too echoey to bear, they’d (well he’d) dragged a couple chairs into the more shaded section and staked their permanent claim. They’d sit in the seats they always sat in, Marinette facing him and the bookshelf and Adrien facing the pathway down. It would take five minutes of gentle prodding to get her to speak more than a couple words. Then there was no silencing her. 

That trait of hers made it so often they'd end up sitting on a bench outside the school after being kicked out for disturbing the quiet. Depending on the day she'd be mortified into silence or dedicated to getting even louder. 

Adrien didn't mind one bit.

After two weeks of finding themselves stranded outside, Marinette surprised him.

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to mine instead, to tutor me? We can be as loud as we want in my bedroom and it's not too far from your house.”

Adrien shut the French book he'd been showing her and placed it between them. Going to her house was definitely closer to being friend friends then school friends. (Which was already a step up from tutor and student but he'd allowed the change because it would be awkward otherwise.) The voice inside him told him to make something up about not being allowed but that didn’t really make any sense. He wanted to say yes and he was already allowed to stay late at school to tutor her, why not at her house?

“Sure,” Adrien said. He felt a lot lighter all of a sudden. Had his self-imposed isolation really weighed on him that badly? “That sounds perfect.”

“Great! We can walk there after school tomorrow.”

Marinette stood with a grin on her face, picking up her school bag and books. 

“Say that in French,” Adrien said. Her smile dropped from her mouth but her eyes still remained lit. She pursed her lips in thought and then produced after a few seconds of thinking;

“Good. We will walk there after school… tomorrow!”

“You’re getting better!”

“Because of my excellent mentor.”

-

“You live over a bakery!”

Marinette looked behind her shoulder at him to where he’d stopped in his tracks. She laughed and went back to unlocking the door.

“My parents own the bakery.” She pushed the door open and stepped for Adrien to walk into a small stairwell, his mouth hanging open. They’d walked right past the customer entrance to their private one but from a brief glance he could tell it was popular. How had she not mentioned this? If it were him that would be the first thing he’d say. 

“That’s so cool.”

She led him up the staircase into the apartment above the bakery and then quickly through it up to her attic bedroom. The smell of baked goods chased them up the entire way and he realised why Marinette always smelt so good, it was the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon. 

Her bedroom was far enough away to allow for its own aroma, something floral and sweet to match the pink decor. It made perfect sense that a room like this belonged to Marinette, it was everything she was and more. A little chaotic with clutter but with a purpose to its madness, soft with cushions and plush furniture that invited him to relax. There were magazine cut outs along the walls from different fashion lines as well as what appeared to be her own designs pinned beside them. She walked past it all, clearing off the love seat at the back of the room for them to sit on. 

“We can sit here. Ignore the mess,” Marinette said. 

Adrien sat down, placing his bag at his feet. He was in awe of how much personality she’d crammed into her one room when all he’d managed to have done to his room of fifteen years was stick up a Ladybug poster a week ago and call it a day.

“Your room is amazing.”

Her cheeks turned a light pink as she turned away. Perhaps he’d sounded a little too amazed.

“I tried to make it feel like my room in China but it feels like it's missing something.” She crossed to the other side of her room and pulled her desk chair back with her to sit on.

“Why’d you never mention that your parents owned a bakery before?”

“It didn’t really come up. Before my parents met my Papa ran a bakery here but he closed it to move to China with my Maman.”

He couldn’t imagine how that might have felt. He didn’t have much to close up and leave behind. Not anything that would care if he left anyway.

“Marinette?” Someone called, followed by the trapdoor swinging open. A large man with an impressive mustache stuck his head through it, a tray filled with treats carried in his hand. This must be her father. Her father’s eyes landed on Adrien, seated politely on his daughter’s love seat, widening slightly. Had she not told her parents? 

“Papa! Out!” Marinette dove across the room. She grabbed the tray from his hands as a teasing smile started to spread across her father’s lips.

“Is this your boyf—.” 

Marinette slammed the trapdoor shut, forcing her grinning father out. She lay on top of it and looked back to Adrien with an embarrassed expression.

“Sorry about him.”

“Boyfriend?” He said it without meaning, mulling over the logical conclusion to M Dupain’s words. Boyfriend was definitely a bigger step up than friends. He couldn’t tell how that word felt in his mouth but it wasn’t a terrible taste. He could see it suiting him one day.

Marinette turned pink, scrambling up to her feet before falling down again.

“I don’t think you’re my boyfriend! I was just talking about our lessons to my Mom and he misunderstood. Mandarin's his second language so sometimes we speak too fast for him and he made a completely incorrect assumption. I corrected him but you know how dads are, they’ll take any chance to tease you. Please don’t be freaked out.”

But he didn’t know how dads were. Gabriel was only his in name. Marinette kept talking but Adrien stayed with that thought for another while. 

He became aware of how quiet it had gotten when Marinette whispered his name.

“Adrien?”

“Eh-. Sorry. Y-your fine, I wasn’t bothered by it.”

Marinette frowned. He must have missed more than he’d thought. She sat across from him, kneeled down and looking up with her brow lightly pinched. Her hands flexed against the material of her jeans, a habit of her’s he’d grown to notice. 

“You look really zoned out. Was I speaking too fast again?”

“No, no. I could keep up. I’m just-.”

“What?”

Adrien bit down on his lip using the moment of pain to ground himself again. He wouldn’t shut her out too, she didn’t deserve it like Gabriel did. 

“I don’t know what ‘dads’ are like.”

“Oh? I thought-.”

“I have a dad.” He interrupted. “It’s my mom that’s gone but her death sort of took him with her. He’s different now.”

“Do you miss him?”

Adrien didn’t answer because he didn’t have one. No one had ever asked if he missed his dad. Only his mom and only with their eyes downcast and their voices lined with pity. Marinette didn’t hide like that, there wasn’t a trace of pity to be found in her voice. Only a question.

“Yeah. I do.”

Something hot rolled down his cheek. 

“Oh, Adrien.” 

She reached toward him, locking him into her arms. Her head slotted perfectly onto his shoulder, the scent of her hair filling his senses. Of course she used blueberry scented shampoo, the obviousness of it nearly made him laugh. Then he cried some more as he realised he hadn’t been close enough to someone to smell their shampoo in a while. He tightened his arms around her back.

Marinette pulled back for a moment and he saw a thought flit past her eyes. A slight shake in her watery smile that he nearly wanted to chase. But it wasn’t the right time and she wasn’t the right person. 

“You can have my dad if you want. While you wait for yours.”

“I think I will.”

-

I said i was busy but this had already been partially written weeks ago so forgive me! This is just another kinda fleshing things out thing. Again playing a bit more into the movie canon but show stuff does apply.

Little reference to their alter egos (well just Ladybug) so I’m going to explain it a bit and I want to write another one shot delving into how their dynamic works in this AU.

I imagine the miraculous act as universal translators. Marinette is hearing everyone in Mandarin and they’re hearing her in French but she doesn’t know that. Opposite for Adrien. So it gives a bit more a reason for Marinette to like being Ladybug because as Ladybug she’s accepted and understood by everyone.

Most of the movie stuff happens with Adrien using Chat Noir to be the person he suppresses and Marinette to be the person she is without difficulty. They both find freedom in it now while they face the pressures of being heroes.

Ladynoir is still Ladynoir-ing in ways I’ll hopefully get to write about.

Also as you see I’m trying to flesh out Adrien daddy issue angst. I imagine that he grieves his father in much the same way as he grieved his mother but Gabriel is someone who still haunts him. So while talking about his mother makes him slightly annoyed because it’s such a done topic to him now, his father is an ongoing issue.

[the-french-laundry]

chapter one | HR by Neil Fak

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!oc

summary: 'The Bear' is on track with only a few weeks left before its soft opening. Time to hire new chefs for the kitchen chaos - and Neil Fak - out of all people - had a perfect contact up his sleeve: a past memory from 'Empire'.

warning(s): language | mentions of death | mentions of trauma | mentions of suicide | David Fields | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

word count: 1.7k

song:The Replacements - Can't Hardly Wait

There were a lot of sayings about chefs working in kitchens around the world - that they needed to be highly disfunctional, outcasts, chaotic, that you easily develop nicotine or alcohol addictions in a restless environment like this. How many times did Anthony Bourdain talk about how messy working as a chef is and yet, a kitchen also provides structure and order. When she lost all of that in New York, Celía Jeannin fell deep, really deep. So much so, that she didn't even bear to tell her family about her sudden loss of employment and the loss of her New York appartment, which came right after that. How could she even tell them? Her parents ran the great 'Bonaparte', a legacy of her famous grandfather Hugo Jeannin. Both Hugo and his son André, Celía's father, were michelin-starred chefs, who carved the name 'Jeannin' forever into the world of culinary, making it nearly impossible to escape any forms of comparison between the generations.

Celía felt like nothing else than a 'déception', a disappointment. Raising fast like Ikarus, when she won her first awards at a young age and had worked in a line of legendary restaurants, only to get burned by the sun that was 'Empire' and its goddamn motherfucker of a head chef named David Fields. New York died for Celía because of him. Even thinking about his name almost made her vomit and somehow even triggered the question in her, if she should even proceed being a chef in this toxic industry.

This question went straight to the bin, while she took a deep drag off her cigarette in front of that new restaurant 'The Bear' she'd applied for.

It wasn't really hard for her to come back to Chicago, after all she'd grown up here before her family settled over to New York. Somehow it still felt like coming home but at the same time she was a complete stranger in a city she'd left about 15 years ago. The only still living memory here was a childhood friend she'd never given up on: Neil Fak.

Neil Fak was a warm-hearted nerd with many shortcomings, but so many good traits that made him a really special friend, Celía knew she could count on. In fact, he was kind of her only remaining friend. Even though the two of them hadn't seen each other in real life for many years, Neil had instantly offered her a place to stay, when he heard that she'd lost her job and appartment in New York. And only a couple of days after she'd moved in and occupied his couch, he informed her about a job offer that was open at the place he used to work. It was a bit confusing what he was doing there, given the fact that he didn't seemed to get paid, but anyways - the job description was interesting. And she needed money.

That's how she got here, taking another breath of that sweet nicotine filled smoke, while she stared at an old and rusty metal sign, which leaned against the big trash containers. 'The Original Beef of Chicagoland'. It seemed like a forgotten testament to an era that now got replaced.

"Never seen you like this before, Cel!?" The sound of Neil Fak's loud voice hit Celía like a baseball bat straight out of her daydreaming and she quickly put out her cigarette.

"Like what?", she answered with a slight irritation on her face, while she tried to straighten her black and white chess fur jacket.

"Nervous. Unfocused. I dunno, you were always more like that grumpy poker face type of girl, when it came to important stuff and shit", Neil smiled and gave her best friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Nervousness? No. It was different. For the first time in her life, she was desperate for a job and wished for something that was far from the long-established restaurants she'd worked in before. Maybe one that wasn't even open yet could become a chance for her to be part of something more.

"I'm not nervous. I mean- 'tis is not the first time i applied for a fancy kitchen, y'know. Right now i'm just... well... okey, maybe i'm a little nervous", she sighed heavily as Fak already rushed forward to open the backdoor.

„Ah no worry, Cell! The team is just super great and wholesome. Everyone’s so cool and gives their very best. Richie, Syd, Carm and the others. I mean you already spoke to Sugar, right? She’s our organization talent here, really awesome stuff.“ While the words of appreciation and even admiration bubbled from Neil's mouth, Celía tried her best to follow and make sense of all the names. Sugar? Did he meant Natalie?

Just seconds after they'd entered the work-in-progress restaurant, a dirty rag hit Neil right in the face - thrown by a tall man in a shirt with the name "The Original Berf" written on it, who stood in the room. "Yo Fak, get your fucking ass here and help me goddamnit! I am trying to fix the freakin' toilet!", he shouted over, while Neil threw that rag back in his direction. "Maybe y'should stop shitting so hard, Richie!"

A sarcastic laugh went from the lips of that guy named Richie, who's eyes went straight to Celía. "Which of your sisters is that?" Celía's eyes widened in irritation and her mouth opened for a silent 'What' before Neil was faster.

"She is not my sister, what the fuck? What makes you think that?"

"Because no girl would date you," he answered with a teasing smile, clearly trying to annoy him.

"Shut it, Richie! She's a new hire!" Suddenly another person rushed into the room, apparently because they shouted so loud that everyone could hear it. The young black woman with a colorful headband and a blue apron walked straight over to Celía, offering her a handshake she instantly accepted.

"Hi ummm... sorry for the mess, i'm Sydney, Chef de Cuisine here. You're Celía, right?"

"Yeah, thanks. No worry 'bout the chaos thing, i'm used to that, so... kitchen things, right?"

"Kitchen things", Sydney repeated with an understanding sigh. "Then let's quick start and i'll show you around?". Celía nodded with an excited smile on her face. It was all new... No established michelin restaurant, a fresh start, a challenge and yet something that promised a form of peace - away from that fucking star world.

________________________________________________________

Setting up a full restaurant from a place that was once a run-down sandwich shop was something where you could lose your mind easily, especially surrounded by a bunch of chaotic personalities - awesome people, but chaotic. Carmen Berzatto jumped from one task to another, trying his best not to get lost in anything and miss any calls or to-dos in the process. He was pretty sure that without Sugar's organization talents and Sydneys engagement, this whole renovating project would simply go down the drain. There was just so much on the list: safety certifications, legal releases, modifications of the place, setting up new kitchen equipment and of course: hiring more people. Chefs and service staff, somehow experienced.

And that hiring job became almost a full-time thing at times during the last weeks. Finding good staff just wasn't as easy as they hoped for and a lot of the job interviews weren't successfull. It was to the surprise of everyone, that one day Neil Fak - out of all people - showed up with a job application from a friend of his, which he handed out to Sydney. Carmen didn't interfere - in fact, he didn't even had the time to read that application himself. He trusted Syd's experience and human knowledge enough to let her decide if the person was interesting for them to hire or not.

Never, never in his life would it come to his mind, that Fak's friend was someone he'd seen before, especially not someone like this. Stressed out to the brink, he tried to make a list of important phone calls today. At least a little bit of peace and quiet was needed for this task, especially in a state of the restaurant, where most of the walls weren't existing anymore. His makeshift office for today was a small storage room with a door that was too thin to keep out the banter between Richie and Fak, which made it nearly impossible to concentrate, let alone making phone calls that required him to understand the person on the other line.

In his frustration he finally kicked open the door of his room, his jaw clenched in anger about of those idiots. "Can't you guys shut up at least for ONE FUCKING HOUR!" What a timing. He didn't realized at first that beside the door stood Sydney, her eyes widened and her mouth open in confusion - and right next to her the new-hire.

"Bad timing? Wanted to introduce our new chef", Sydney asked, which pulled Carmy out of his thoughts, his face instantly turning to the two women. "No, no, i just-", he started, but stopped, when his blue eyes stared at Celía and she stared back. Her hair was straight-up the opposite of what he knew, but he would recognize that face easily even though they'd barely spoke a word back then.

It was at the Empire, that hellhole of a place. He was Chef de Cuisine, but felt like a fucking nothing in the presence of Head Chef David Fields, who run this cult-like kitchen like a mental torture chamber. People came and they left, rather sooner than later and so fast that it became impossible for Carmen to keep up with their names. Only those, who stayed longer than a month were the ones, who slowly started to get a name in his memory - she was one of them. He remembered that she'd worked as Entremetier, Saucier and about one and a half month before he left this nightmare, she became Sous. He thought she'd still be there, trapped in that unhealthy place, which had made him mentally ill. Bizarrely he'd always thought she even liked it there, the only person he'd ever saw in there smiling.

"What is going on?", Syd questioned in a low tone, while her eyes went from Carmen to Celía and back to Carmen, obviously trying to make any sense why they kept staring at each other like they'd seen a ghost and froze in place. It was awkward, even weirder than that.

"We-". It was Celía, who just found her voice before Carmen was even able to open his mouth. "We worked together."

[spookymystery67]

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Took me all day to re-read and edit this chapter and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but it is what it is. I hope you all enjoy it!

TW: Death, gore, zombie dogs, Brian Irons, language, angst, mention of sexual assault, ect. Typical Resident Evil stuff.

September 29, 1998-

Chapter 8:

"Why didn't you tell that man who the cause of all this was?" Claire asked you as she and the rest followed your lead through the streets to the orphanage. You've had to kill a few zombies and zombie dogs here and there. But nothing too extreme that your group of four couldn't handle.

"Because it wouldn't have changed anything. His wife would still be dead. His daughter would have still died. What would he have done with that information?"

"He could have fought with us. Instead of-" Leon started.

"Instead of killing himself? Look Leon, Kendo had already made up his mind right when his wife died and his daughter was infected. He had his chance last night to get out of here and decided to stay. He wouldn't have changed his mind. Not because of anything I would say to him. He didn't know me." You told him firmly.

"You could've-" You interrupt him once more, not bothering to stop your fast pace to the orphanage.

"You could have let Ben and I out sooner if you believed him. If the chips were nearby, you could have saved him. If I had paid more attention and seen Irons coming, I could have gotten Ben and Katherine out of here already. I could have stopped this whole thing a week ago if I wasn't a wimp and just shot William Birkin. Hell, Annette Birkin could have ended it if she shot him. The military could have. The police could have. Umbrella could have. So many possibilities, yet this is what is happening right now." You gestured out to the city as you paused in your step. "And there isn't much control I or any of us have over the situation. Bottom line, stop focusing on what you or I could have done in the past to improve what is happening now. Focus on what you can do right now to prevent shit from getting worse for us later. Okay?" You tell him.

He thought your words over for a moment before nodding in agreement. There is no point in focusing on what could have happened.

"You sound like you needed to hear that more than I did." He commented.

"Yeah, well, it's been a long week." You sighed.

"I just got here. So did Claire." Leon stated, trying to keep conversation going.

"I can tell, you're both nowhere near as filthy as I am." You snorted. "And Ada clearly just got here too. No way in hell she has been running around in those heels all week." 

"What's with you and my shoes?" Ada questioned, torn between amused and annoyed.

"I will admit, part of me is slightly jealous that you can walk in those so easily. I wouldn't be able to wear a pair of heels to save my life." You said, as you glanced at her. "And what's with the sunglasses? It's night time. Are you trying to maintain an air of mystery or something?" You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure. If that's what you want to think." Ada snorted. You nodded, a slight smile on your face.

Yes. That's exactly what she was doing.

"There's the gate to the orphanage." Claire pointed out. The gate in question had cartoon animals painted on it, so you knew she was right.

You paused when you heard a series of growls behind your group. You all quickly turned to look behind you and saw a horde of zombie dogs running in your direction. Too fast and too many for you to comfortably shoot at the moment.

"Run!" Leon yelled. Your group had no arguments as you all ran toward the orphanage gate as fast you could. Ada in the lead. Which, again, heels. How?

You quickly slammed the gate shut and locked it behind you. You gasped for breath and turned to check on everyone.

"Okay?" They nodded and you nodded back. "Alright. Onwards." You said as you quickly walked up the long cobblestone path to the front door and opened it, briefly escaping the rain.

The place was full of children's stuff. You had two choices on where you could go. Up the stairs or down the hall.

"Maybe we can split up?" 

Just as Leon suggested that, you heard a scream of pain. The voice sounded male. You all quickly ran down the hall toward the noise. A little girl ran into you with a gasp, before quickly hiding behind you.

"You little bitch! You'll pay for that!" Irons yelled, before pausing when he came face to face with you and your handgun pointed directly at his face.

"Hey, Chief. Long time no see." You spat, glaring darkly at the man. You notice burn marks on his face and smirk. "Nice job, Sherry." 

Sherry seemed a little conflicted with the praise. On one hand, she hurt someone. On the other hand, that someone was an awful person who was going to hurt her.

"Seriously, good job." Claire reassured her as she led Sherry further behind the group. Leon and Ada each had a gun in hand just in case Irons tried anything funny.

"Thanks." Sherry whispered shyly.

"Alright, you know why I'm here, Irons. Where's Katherine?" You asked, the gun held steady in your grasp.

He stumbled for a response, eyes darting every which way for a possible exit. Your eyes narrowed.

"Don't make me ask again. Where is she?" You were getting more and more pissed off the longer he hesitated. Your worry began gnawing at your stomach, making you feel a little nauseous.

"There's a girl on the table." Sherry said.

"You little-" you cut him off with a click as you cocked your pistol.

“Shut up. Where, Sherry? In that room?" You asked as calmly as you could, pointing toward the direction she came running from.

"Y-yes. But I don't think she's okay." Sherry hesitated.

Your heart dropped. You grit your teeth and clenched your jaw. You took a deep breath in an attempt to maintain calm. "Really? Well, why don't we go see? Claire, stay with Sherry please." 

She nodded. "Of course. Come on, Sherry. We'll wait in the lobby." She grabbed Sherry's hand and led her away from what is likely about to be a very violent scene.

"You two can do whatever you want. I'm taking Irons here to see the damage." You said to Ada and Leon. You grabbed Irons arm roughly and placed the gun against his head so he wouldn't try anything.

"We'll go with you. In case you need back up." Leon stated. Ada simply nodded in agreement.

Leon clearly wanted to assist you out of the kindness of his heart. You couldn't tell why Ada would help you. Those large sunglasses really do block any minuscule signs of emotion, making it extremely difficult to read her. You assumed that was probably the point.

"Alright, after you. No funny business." You told Irons as you shoved him forward, arm still held tightly in your grasp.

He reluctantly moved forward. He opened the door to the room and you shoved him forward once more when he hesitated in the doorway.

You walked in and examined the room, nearly wanting to throw up as you gasped at the sight before you, letting go of the man's arm in shock.

It was Katherine, lying flat on the table in her pretty white dress. Her skin was paler with a tint of blue to it. 

You hesitantly walked forward and reached out to check her pulse, flinching slightly when you felt her slightly cool skin. Her heartbeat was gone. She hadn't been gone long.

Katherine was dead.

Irons turned to run away once he was out of your grasp, but Leon grabbed him by the arms and Ada quickly pointed her gun at him, making him freeze once more.

Tears were sliding down your face for what seemed like the millionth time today. You had been so close. So close to saving her. But you were too late.

Despite your conversation with Leon earlier, your mind couldn't help but go through the what-ifs and what you could have done differently. For starters, you could have not stopped and wasted your time with conversations. You could have not stopped at Kendo's gun shop and looked through it to see if there was anything of use left. You could have just made a run for it from the police station to the damn orphanage.

What if. 

Could have. 

What could have been.

You sniffled and choked back a sob, turning to glare at the man responsible with pure hatred rolling through every fiber of your being. You hated this man. You loathed him. And you wanted him gone.

Your tears had fallen down your face and you wiped them away, not wanting to look weak in front of the man. You raised your gun at him, ready to shoot his fucking face off. Ada and Leon stood back and watched the scene unfold, guns in hand in case something were to go wrong.

Irons fully laughed at you, deranged and disbelieving. "You won't shoot me, girl. You couldn't. Even if you wanted to." 

You laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." Your sharp eyes pierced through his. If you didn't know anything about this man, the psychotic look on his burned face would tell you exactly everything you'd need to know. 

He did this.

You walked closer to Irons and held your gun steadily toward him.

"You're going to confirm everything I know. Out loud!" You told him, the venom in your voice and gun raised directly at his forehead showing him how serious you are.

"And why would I do that?" 

"Because I will shoot you if you don't." You pushed the barrel of the gun on his forehead for emphasis.

He went to grab the gun in his holster, but you quickly reared back and pistol whipped him in the face, hard, knocking him back and sending him to the floor, grunting. 

"Toss the gun away, or the next thing I do with this gun is kill you!" You snapped.

He seemed to understand that you weren't joking around. Still sprawled on the ground with a bruised and bloodied cheek, burn marks on his now disfigured face.

He now looked on the outside how he was on the inside, in your opinion. 

Slowly, he grabbed the gun from his side and put it on the ground.

"Slide it to them." You motion with your head towards Ada and Leon, and he reluctantly slid his gun across the room toward the exit, Ada quickly picked it up.

"Stand up, and back up toward the wall." He did as you said, away from any doors or windows to run from, leaving you standing by the table with the body of your dead best friend. But you refused to look away from him.

"Now, I want you to answer everything I ask truthfully. Do you understand?" He nodded, eyes glaring into you. "Did you or did you not accept bribes from Umbrella to keep the police from investigating them?"

"I did." He confirmed.

"Did you or did you not, become in charge of the Raccoon City Orphanage to help disguise Umbrella's use of child test subjects and experimentation?" Leon gasped slightly at the question, not understanding how anyone could go as far as to hurt children in the name of science.

"I did." Irons eyes darted for an exit strategy, but stopped when Ada pointed her gun at him in your support. Leon followed her action by raising his own gun.

"LOOK AT ME!" You shouted angrily, causing everyone to jump and Irons to look at you. "Are you or are you not a rapist and a serial killer?"

"...I am."

"Did you or did you not kill your secretary this June after she uncovered your dealings with Umbrella?"

He glanced away, and you turned your gun and shot it at the wall on his left side. He jumped and shouted in surprise, raising his arms up higher. 

"I did!"

"Did you snatch eight young women off the streets and murder them?" 

"I did."

"Did you turn their bodies into taxidermy? Is that why the police couldn't find their bodies?"

"Yes, I did." His face showed a sliver of sick joy at the thought of it, making you and everyone else feel uneasy.

You walked a step closer, gun held steady.

"You locked Ben up and left him for dead." 

"I did." He spat at the mention of the man. The man who almost gave him away. Who almost ruined everything for him.

"You sabotaged the police department and killed many officers and pedestrians in the process." Your hands began to shake slightly, rage bottling up to an all time high.

"I did." The joy of his deranged features increased.

"You killed, Katherine." Your breathing increased as you attempted to calm your shaking hands and rapidly beating heart. 

"No." You paused briefly, confused. "No, I let her go." He continued. "Then I hunted her down through the halls of the station like a wild animal." 

Your shaking hands increased, heartbeat pounding in your ear drums, yet you continued to hear every word from the man.

"She almost got away. Almost. She would have, if she wasn't so predictable in going toward the cell blocks. She was running to save you. You should have heard the screams. She called for you. Y/n. That's your name right? That's the name she yelled as I dragged the bitch by her hair through the station." Irons mocked.

Tears burned at your eyes and your breathing had turned to hyperventilating. The anger that burned at your chest was practically painful.

"You were supposed to protect them!" You yelled furiously. You were not only implying Katherine, but everyone else who had fallen victim to the horrible man.

"I was never going to protect them. Katherine was a goner as soon as the mayor left her in my care. She was always meant to be my trophy. He just made it easier for me to get her." His laugh was cruel, any sanity within him long gone.

If he ever had any at all.

The laughing was cut off by a bullet to the neck. He froze in shock for a moment, all eyes turned to look at the smoking gun in your hands in surprise. 

You did it. 

You actually did it. 

His injury caught up to him and he collapsed to the floor, choking on his own blood as he took desperate gasps for air.

You pointed your gun down and glanced at the table to your right. You could have mistaken her for sleeping if her eyes weren't wide open. You slowly stepped up to her and used two fingers to close her eyelids for good. 

There, now she looked like she was at peace. Simply asleep.

If only.

Your eyes turned back to the man gurgling on the floor. No, the monster. He was far worse than those things outside. The things that used to be innocent people that you feel you have failed. Maybe if you had done something sooner. But what could you have done? Everyone with power in this city, in this country, was in on it. You and Ben were doomed from the start. 

You stared with distant eyes, ears still ringing from the sudden gun shot, as Irons looked around desperately for any chance of something, anything, saving him. You walked forward as he choked on the floor, crouching down to his level with a dark glare in your slightly red eyes and dried tears on your face as the ringing subsided.

"You don't deserve a quick and painless death. Even this is less than you deserve. It's a pity I can't make this last." You spat, rage still writhing in your chest. You watched as the blood ran down his hands that were desperately clutching at his throat.

"I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to murder anyone. You forced my hand, Irons. You've done too much harm in this world for too long. It's about time someone stops you." 

Fueled by rage and adrenaline, you grabbed him by his graying hair and dragged him out of the room, moving Ada and Leon aside as you walked through the lobby past Claire and Sherry. Pushing the front door open to the yard, you dragged the man to the front gate where the zombie dogs were previously blocked. You pulled the gate open and pushed the choking man through.

You whistled to gather the attention of the zombie dogs that had went elsewhere. The six dogs came running and growling, immediately gathering around the former Chief.

They brutally bit and teared and ate away at Irons. He jerked and yelled through his bloodied throat. The gurgling sound was truly pathetic. You watched with distant eyes as he was ripped apart.

 You didn't feel any better now that he was dead. Your friends were still gone. All those people were still dead. The only thing you may have accomplished just now was preventing Irons from hurting anyone else in the future.

You shook your head to get rid of your thoughts and quickly shut the gate. You took a deep breath to compose yourself, counted to 10, before walking back inside.

"Did you really have to kill him?" Leon questioned as you walked through the door. Him and Ada had moved to the lobby to wait for you.

You glared. "What should I have done? Let you arrest him?"

"Not kill him." Leon said. You sighed in frustration.

"Okay, we get it, you're a great guy. Never change, Leon. But something you should know about me, I don't let people who hurt the ones I care about get away unscathed. And frankly, Irons had it coming. One way or another he wasn't making it out of this city. I sure as hell wouldn't have taken him with me. Would you have?" You asked. 

You maybe could have been a little nicer about it. After all, it was a valid question. Did you really have to kill him?

Murder wasn't right. But your emotions and your anger had gotten the best of you. You never thought you would become a murderer. You never understood how someone could just go through with ending another person's life like that.

You shocked yourself when you pulled that trigger. When you dragged the man who was twice your size out the door to be eaten alive. When you ended his life for good. 

Maybe you were no better than Irons.

Leon looked conflicted. He knew murder was wrong. But all Irons did was hurt and murder people. Should he really be all that upset about it?

He stayed silent and you nodded. What's done is done.

"Great. Glad we solved that problem. Now, NEST?" You looked around for Sherry and Claire. "Where the hell did Sherry and Claire go? They were here a few minutes ago."

"Something spooked Sherry and she ran away. Claire went after her." Leon explained.

"Where?" 

"Over here." Ada motioned to the door. "Any ideas where this leads?"

You reach into your bag for the map of NEST you found when you first went. "That would be the entrance to NEST. I guess we'll catch up to them." You turned to look back toward the room where your friend still lied. 

"Do you want to say good-bye?" Leon asked. Ada stayed silent, letting you decide what you wanted to do next.

You shook your head after a moment. "No. It won't change anything. Let's just go." You started leading the way.

"It could give you closure." Leon said.

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here. But stop. We have a job to do. Plus, I can tell Ada is getting impatient." You stated.

"I could still give you a few minutes." Ada offered. She wasn't as cold at that moment as she had been all night. You were thankful for her and Leon's offer, but you didn't think you would be able to hold it together if you saw Katherine again. It was best to move on. 

No matter how painful it was for you.

"No. Again, I appreciate it. But, no. Let's just move on." You turned your back to the room, not wanting to look any longer.

You walked down the tunnel to the elevator at the end. Once you all had gathered inside, you pressed the button and the elevator began its descent.

"So, what do you want to know, Ada? From what I've gathered, you know a lot already." You said, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence that had surrounded the small space.

"I know mostly everything that you know. I know that Annette Birkins is the one responsible for this mess. And I'm going to bring her down. What I need to know from you is where the G-virus is so I can do that." Ada explained.

The elevator stopped and you all walked out. You followed the map leading you further down the tunnels toward NEST.

"Well, I can show you Birkins lab. We might have to take a look around the facility, though. There were people taking samples of the virus to sell on the blackmarket. So I doubt there is anything left in Birkins lab." Ada nodded in agreement.

"How can they have a whole underground facility without the authorities knowing?" Leon questioned.

"Welcome to corporate America. Umbrella's controlled Raccoon City for years." Ada deadpanned.

"Yeah, Irons was Chief of police and worked with Umbrella, remember? No one was looking for a secret underground facility. Well, no one until Ben and I." You explained.

"You said you were there on the night this all started?" Ada asked.

"Yeah. Looking for intel. I had a man from the inside help me get in here." 

"Get anything good?" 

"Yes. Information on the viruses, and additional things, the scientists were working on down here. What Umbrella did with the kids in the orphanage. Dealings they had with authority figures. I had proof, but I lost it at some point throughout the week." You lied. 

You weren't going to tell Ada you gave the drive away to a S.T.A.R.S member. Truth be told, you didn't really trust her. Or Leon for that matter. They were strangers. The only reason you were still helping them was because they held up their end of the bargain and took you to Katherine. Even though it turned out to be too late, you still appreciated them trying.

"What was yours and Ben's goal? Why go through all this trouble?" Leon asked. You felt saddened at the mention of Ben, but tried to shake it off.

"Well, for Ben, it started out as a good story. He was a private journalist. Hired me when I was looking for a job." You reminisced. "But it slowly morphed from a good story to a need to shut the bastards down. To show the citizens of Raccoon City what their officials and so called "heroes" were really up to. To show the world. We had to stop them."

"A little ambitious for a couple of private journalists." Ada commented.

"Oh, we were in way over our heads." You agreed. "But we already got so far with the information we collected. We couldn't just stop. We had to see it through. And then, well, everything happened." You sighed sadly.

"Are you getting cold feet?" Ada asked. She couldn't tell if you wanted to continue with the mission or if you wanted to back out. She wouldn't give you the option to leave. She needed your knowledge. 

"No. I want to see this through. Even if it kills me. At this point, I don't think that is entirely out of the realm of possibilities." 

"We'll be fine." Leon said, clearly determined to make it and for everything to be alright.

"Hmm, an optimist and a hero, Leon? Never change. From what I've seen, the world could use more people like you." You said.

You made it to a door and Leon pushed you back slightly to open it first, just in case something dangerous was on the other side.

"Definitely Williams handiwork…" A woman said, crouched over a dead body. You all quietly make your way inside.

"Identify yourself!" Leon said, holding up his gun.

Ada held her gun up. "Annette Birkin."

"She's who we're looking for? The one who created the viruses?" Leon asked. You nodded.

"Not much time… Need to dispose of it." Annette muttered.

"We're here for the G-virus!" Ada said.

"Huh, that's not gonna happen." Annette scoffed. She noticed you standing there and furrowed her brow in confusion.

"I'm warning you, doctor." Ada said.

"Oh yeah?" Annette tossed a lighter to the body, setting it on fire and ran away.

"STOP!" Ada yelled. She rushed after her around the corner and you want to follow.

Gunshots went off and Leon quickly went to cover Ada, who was in the line of fire. You stayed ducked behind the wall, out of range. Leon fell to the ground, having been shot through the shoulder. Ada tried shooting Annette, but she ran past a thick, steel metal door as it shut.

"You'll never get the G-virus!" Annette yelled as the metal door shut.

"Didn't expect that from a scientist." Ada snarked. You noticed her sunglasses had been knocked off her face.

"Honestly, I'm not surprised." You said. Leon groaned in pain on the ground, catching your attention.

"Leon…" Ada ducked to the ground, leaning over to check on his wound. You followed.

"Forget about me… Just go… Stop her before she gets away." Leon passed out right after those words. Ada looked conflicted, before she finally decided to stay and help patch up his wound.

"Can you help me patch him up?" Ada asked you.

"I don't really have much knowledge on that stuff. I have a first aid kit though." You hesitated.

"That's fine. Just hand it here and do as I say." Ada said. 

You nodded and kneeled on the floor beside her and Leon, digging through your bag to grab the first aid kit you had.

"Here." You handed her the kit. She nodded her thanks and started patching Leon up.

"So, do you have to do this often?" You asked.

"Do what?" Ada asked.

"Patch yourself or someone up. You seem to know what you're doing." You said as you watched her work.

Ada shrugged. "It's basic training. Everyone in the FBI knows this." 

"Right. And in the FBI, do they also teach the women to kick ass in heels and wear sunglasses in the dark?" You teased. 

Ada snorted and smirked. "The heels again? No. That's just my thing. Why, you interested?"

"In what? You?" You asked stupidly.

Ada actually laughed at that. "No, in joining the FBI." 

You blushed in embarrassment. "Right. Uh, no. After all this, I think I've had enough of corporate America to last a lifetime."

"Hmm, so what are you gonna do? When all of this is over?" She asked as she began wrapping Leon's wound.

"I- I don't know. Lay low? Stay out of trouble for a while. Find some place to live." You shrugged.

"Any ideas on where?" 

"No. I honestly haven't thought about it much. I had a solid thing going on before the outbreak. I had my apartment. I had my friends. I had a job where I was actually doing something that felt important. And as weird as it sounds, despite all of the danger we were putting ourselves in, I was happy." You trailed off.

"And now?" Ada questioned.

"And now it's all gone. All of it. My apartment. My job…. My friends. I honestly don't know how to go on with life after this."

Ada sighed as she finished patching up Leon's shoulder. "One day at a time. That's a start." She stood up and held her hand out to help you stand. You took it.

"We'll go after Annette in a few moments. Take a breather." She said as she helped you to your feet.

"We'll just leave him here?" You asked, referring to Leon.

"Well, we can't take him when he's passed out. He'll be fine. The area is secure." Ada said. You hesitated before nodding in agreement. 

She's right. He's a big boy, he'll be alright.

[waterfallofspace]

A Touch Too Human.

So this is just a lil thing I started/finished within an hour. Didn't edit it, or put in a TON of work, but Imma share it anyways because honestly? I just kinda had fun~

Characters: C/hoso, Y/uji -- No Ships, simply Platonic Affection. (Note: even though nothing snz happens with him, when writing, I pictured Y/uji as 18+, specifically 19 - 21) Word Count: 1.4k

(Spoilers for J/ujutsu K/aisen manga, as well as references to high fevers, very slight mess, and some swearing.)

~~~~~

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick before.”

Choso manages to pry open his eyes, gaze landing on his younger brother. The pink hair seems too bright under the harsh fluorescent glow, and Choso lets the fatigue drag them closed again. 

“I’mb fidne.” It’s barely a whisper, his voice far too raw to produce a substantial volume. The act of speaking highlights the lines around his eyes as he flinches. Even without opening his eyes, he’s certain Yuji winced too. 

“You don’t sound fine…” A hand suddenly finds itself on his face, Choso letting a light moan slip through his teeth as the cool touch rushes straight to his bones. 

Yuji tuts, brushing some soaked hair from Choso’s forehead. “And you’re burning up. How did you even get out of bed like this?” 

“Idt’s dnothi-g. ehHh- hN’XGt-!” 

“Bless you!”

Choso simply shakes his head, hands raising to cup his mouth and nose behind a protective wall as he attempts to lean away from Yuji. All he succeeds at doing is making himself dizzy, the next bursts rushing out in a rapid frenzy. 

“hk’nntizshh-! eh’gnnxgttt-! hh’knnxgt! dnnzshh! oh shidt- yezshhuu-! ih’yizzsshhuuw-!” 

A light mist escapes through Choso’s fingers, leaving the table shining in the flickering lights. Yuji shoots him a concerned smile, digging frantically through his pockets as Choso feels his cheeks reach an unbearable level of heat. 

“That was some show! Bless you a bunch. Doesn’t holding it in like that hu- oh found them!” Yuji passes over the pack of tissues, leaving them on the table when Choso makes no attempt to remove the barrier he’s raised in front of his nose. 

Making sure to turn away slowly this time, Choso removes one hand, frown deepening at the sight that awaits him. Pulling out a few of the offerings, he cleans himself up, not yet daring to touch his nose with the soft fabric. 

Once he’s satisfied, he turns back to Yuji with a congested, “Tha- gk you, brother.” 

“No problem… Uh… I don’t mean to doubt you but… you still sound rough.” Yuji raises an eyebrow, gesturing to Choso’s face. “And your nose is all pink. You sure you’re not sick..?” 

At the acknowledgement, said appendage twitches eagerly. Choso groans faintly, fighting the urge to scrub at it. “I said I w-as fi-dne. I’mb dnot sic-k.” 

“You know it’s okay to be unwell. Even Gojo Sensei gets sick,” A mild terror seems to flash through Yuji, Choso raising an eyebrow at the shudder. “He’s uh… interesting as a sick person.”

“I wou-ldn’t kdn-ow, I’ve dnever… hh!” Choso suddenly pauses, eyes glossing over as his lips part far enough to show his teeth. 

“Bless you!”

“hH- guhhh… snuff.” With a rough sniff, he manages to pull himself back under control. 

“Oh whoops- Did I scare it away? Here-” Before Choso can react, a soft finger runs along his mark, the tingling in his nose suddenly sprung into an all consuming itch. A snarl breaks across his face, nose suddenly pressed against his wrist. 

“hnnchh-! knncchht-! inchht-! eh’dnxttt-!”  As the fit continues, his breathing gets wetter, each inhale starting to take considerable effort. 

Yuji stands silently, wincing at the strangled noises escaping from Choso’s battered sinuses. 

Finally, with another desperate gasp, Choso switches to his collar, letting the mist rain down over his clenching muscles. “hieh’YEHHshhuu-! hk’ehHHZshuuw-! eh’dehzshuuu-!” 

“Bless you,” comes the response, Yuji quietly pulling out a few tissues, and pressing them into Choso’s unoccupied hand. “Blow, it’ll feel better.” 

Doing as his brother wishes, Choso brings the tissue to his nose, breath catching dangerously as the soft folds brush against his markings. “hnchh-! knnchh-! aH’YEHHzshhuuw-!” As the final one breaks free, Choso lets it slide into a blow.

After the third round, Choso finally leans back, coughing into the back of his hand. As his blurry vision tries to hone in on Yuji, he feels a strong arm wrapping around his waist. Every instinct tells him to fight, to push it away, but in the end his fever wins. 

“That’s it, just lean against me, I’ve got you.”

“Th- agk you agaidn, br-other… hH’NCHhiuww-!” That one’s aimed towards his shoulder, a few droplets hitting Yuji’s arm. Choso opens his mouth to apologize, but Yuji doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“I’d say bless you, but judging by the state of your nose, I’m guessing you’re not done?”

“Ndot… quite… I te-nd to sdneeze a… alot- hH’KNCHhiuew-! ek’yehhzshhuu-! knnchh- enchhh- hh’dehhzshhuu-!” 

“Bless you!” Yuji smiles, easily taking the brunt of Choso’s weight as each shudder leaves him trembling.

“Sguse me,” Choso clears his throat, a flash of pain darting across his face for his efforts.

“Sdnee-ze a lot, wh-edn I’bm… I… hH’EHChhhuu-! echhhuuww-! Oh. Sorr-y, wasdn’t do-ne.” 

Before he can lose any more dignity, they’re standing in front of his room. Yuji leans him against the wall, unlocks his door, and helps him stumble inside. Choso sinks into his bed, fighting off the fatigue threatening to pull him under. 

“So, where do you keep your sweaters?” Yuji scans the room, pulling open the closet before Choso has a chance to answer. “Ah, got it! Alright, arms up, slide this over- yep, just like that!” 

As the cloth passes his face, Choso violently twitches, wrinkling his nose back and forth as his hands remain trapped in the air. Oblivious to the struggle just below the sweater's embrace, Yuji continues trying to maneuver it over his torso. 

“Yehh… yuhhh…. geh- hihH-!” Any attempt at speech is drowned out in the hitches, Choso feeling his nostrils begin to flare of their own accord. He stalls his breathing, hands beginning to tremble from their perch above his head. 

After what feels like ages, the sweater finishes its journey, resting comfortably against his chest. Yuji beams, admiring his handiwork from his position directly in front of the bed. 

“I… I’mb…. hhgt- gehht…. hh’yezzshhhuuiew-!” 

Yuji doesn’t even flinch as the fabric on his arm grows damp. “Oh, bless you!” 

“hngt’chh-! I’mb so- ingnt’chh-! so so-rry I- ek’tnngchh-! sorry tha-dt I- hh’gnn’chhuew-!” 

Choso holds his sleeve against his face, letting out another itchy moan as the sensation increases the tickle tenfold. “God I hahhh… ha-ve to- eH’YEHHZShhhuu-!” 

Throughout the attack, Choso pulls himself into the tightest ball he can manage, the very idea of consuming space bringing chills to his spine. “knZSHHuuew-!” Or maybe that was the fever. 

A warmth on his arm brings him back to the room, clouded eyes rising to meet the worried ones watching him.

“Are you okay, Choso?” The tone is soft, with something Choso can’t quite place. Is that… kindness..? 

“ah’kehhzshhuu-! I’bm-” The word ‘fine’ lingers on his tongue, but under Yuji’s gaze, it starts to taste bitter. Instead, something more sweet takes its place. “Ndot feeli-ng so well…” 

 The statement sucks the remaining breath from his lungs, seemingly using every last drop of energy. Choso feels his head start to swim, and before he can fight it, his head’s being guided to the pillow. 

A single tear begins to cut down his cheek, soft hands halting its journey, and sliding up to wipe away the rest that threaten to follow. A sob breaks from Choso’s raw throat, coming out as strangled and miserable as he feels. 

“I’mb so-rry Yuji. I dodn’t kno-w what’s… eh’knchhuu-! whadt’s happedning…” 

Yuji hums, running his fingers through Choso’s hair, brushing over his sweltering forehead. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. This is part of being human. Trust me brother,” Yuji offers with a gentle grin, “I’d know.” 

And with that single word, Choso finds the tears he’d been fighting begin to win the battle. His vision begins to fade again, but before he’s fully gone, he feels something warm begin to encase him.

“Wh- whadt ar-e you do-ing? hn’chhhuu-!” 

“It’s a hug!” Yuji pauses, his expression taking on a sadder tint.

“Have… you never been hugged before..?” 

In lieu of a response, Choso sinks into the embrace, leaning his head into Yuji’s shoulder, a sigh melting from his lips. A touch that feels distinctly human. Yuji’s laughter sounds far away, something warm in it guiding Choso deeper into the sleep that’s begun to nip at his brain. 

“Feel better.” 

It seems to echo from a place just out of sight, and Choso finds words too heavy for a response. Somehow, he knows one isn’t needed. Instead, he simply allows the warmth to swallow him. 

Goodnight, brother. 

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1-2, Chapter #09

previous | all | next

I’m doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc.

The volume numbers will be mismatched for most of the remainder of Trigun, since the Japanese first edition is 3 volumes while all later versions are 2 volumes.

As always, here are the non-analysis panels:

And the rest is under the cut.

[link for if the images aren’t in horizontal rows]

To start off, we have Meryl talking about buying designer handbags. This part was very confusing in Japanese because even though I could recognize Prada, the two other brands she named were completely bogus to me. What the hell are エピピ(Epipi) and NCM!?

So I asked my mom about it last night (she knows a decent amount about brands popular in the 90's, since she was still living in Japan back then). She was also stumped for a bit, but after a while she asked to see the way "Prada" looked. She noticed that it was written like プラーダ(purāda) rather than the correct プラダ(purada). I didn't notice because I don't know shit about fashion... but she suggested that maybe all of these were slight variations on real-life brands. She said that NCM is probably based on MCM Worldwide.

Epipi probably took a solid 20 minutes to figure out.... We were naming every brand on earth searching for anything that could even vaguely sound like "epipi." Right when we nearly ran out of ideas, she thought of googling just part of the name, like "epi brand," and voila, apparently there's a line of Louis Vuitton leather called Epi.

Epipi (and brain soup) is an inside joke between us now btw.

The chapter cover!! Everyone here is so damn cute... also I'm sitting almost exactly how Vash is right now.

This is the second appearance of Vash's shades. I can't see the details, but the design looks the same as the one before.

I'd completely forgotten how tiny Kaito is??? Literally half of Vash's height.

Vash's response to Kaito's insult(?) is「お前そりゃないだろ…」and is something more like "C'mon, man..." or "Seriously?"

big eyes vash big eyes vash i want to scoop him up and put him in a jar with holes in the lid

It's so cool how Vash immediately understands exactly what's going on through what he's overhearing, thanks to his childhood on the spaceship and his time at Home. How can this man not drive

I think the engineer is talking about the Plant here, so it should be "The shock could kill it." (although the Plant dying would also kill everyone else. ykwim)

Didn't know that guy was called a helmsman.... In Japanese, the word for helmsman, 操舵手 (the scan is super blurry and looked like 士 but the correct word is 手) was written as ライツ(raitsu) with 操舵手 written in the ruby. Maybe raitsu was the name of the helmsman? Or it might be something else boat-related that I don't know about.

Vash's silent reaction to Kaito's words say a lot. This behavior is nearly identical to Vash's (again, more so in Maximum, after Vash remembers the events of July and gets even more depressed). He understands Kaito's pain and guilt, and worries for him, but he also can't help but see himself in the boy... however he feels about that. This gets a bit more into theory territory, but I think Vash doesn't want Kaito to turn out like himself. Of course, he wants everyone to strive for peace; he wants people to be like that part of himself, in that regard. However, he doesn't want people to act self-destructive like he is. One obvious reason is that Vash genuinely doesn't want Kaito to be hurt, especially when he believes that people always deserve to start over and live a happy life.... But another underlying reason could be that he doesn't like percieving parts of himself in others, out of self-hatred.

One of my favorite lines ever!!!!! (has 50 favorites)(its not my fault trigun/trimax is so constantly banger) While humans views the Plant as a tool and an incomprehensible being, Vash simply views them as just a girl that needs calming down—"people" just like him and everyone else. He has a familial relationship with every Plant, which I absolutely adore. And!!! I will expand on this bit in the next(I think) arc and beyond, or maybe even make a separate post!!! I have so many thoughts surrounding this and it's a core theme to Trigun as a whole.

Noting some SFX since some non-Japanese readers may not have noticed - the plant is making a high-pitched scream from here on. Also, Kaito says that it's a "voice," not a "sound."

More Plant object-person dichotomy!! This unfortunately gets lost in translation, but it's a very neat storytelling trick. In Japanese, This is written in an interesting way:「プラント――　それは『造りだす』もの」 with もの(mono) having dots above them (in this context acting like italicization for emphasis in English). Usually, this もの would be more specific. There's 物(mono) which means "object" or "thing," and there's 者(mono) which means "person" or sometimes "being." The narrator intentionally leaves the identity of the Plant vague. Again, in humans' eyes, Plants are machines of production. In Vash's eyes, Plants are full-fledged people.

I would write that line closer to the original format, with quotes around "creates" and leaving it at that.

A longer translation correction—just going to transcribe it here:

水 紫外線 酸素 そして微電力を与える事によって物理法則を超えた『生産』活動を行う生体システムである They are organic systems that, when fed water, ultraviolet light, oxygen, and a bit of electricity, can "produce" things in a process that surpasses all physical law.

The sound effect here is loud footsteps on metal. I think it's neat that Nightow showed Vash running up the stairs with just onomatopoea and a shot of the stairs.

In Japanese, Vash says that he's counting on/leaving the rest up to the engineers/the others on the ship, after telling them to deal with it.

Again, Vash considers the Plant his family, a sister. He is talking directly to them and treating them with respect. The word used here is actually 兄弟(kyoudai), which means "brother(s)"/olderbrother-youngerbrother, where in this situation with a brother and sister of unspecified age/order it would usually just be きょうだい(kyoudai, spelled out)... it may be that back then, people didn't really specify or mix-and-match sibling gender (姉弟 兄妹 etc) in writing as much as we do now.

The first appearance of feathers on Vash!! During my first read, I was absolutely mesmerized by this page. Mannnnnnn the angel imagery....

Also bonus reaction from my dear friend from my Instagram liveposting back in April (yeah. my first read was only a bit over 2 months ago). booty CRACK

This is the "beeeeeeep" sound of a flatlining heart monitor. Until now I thought it was more of an imaginary thing to show that their hearts have stopped, but I just realized that it may also be a real sound of the Plant's vital monitors. Could be either, to be honest.

Apparently "yards" are normal? In Japanese it's written as ヤーズ(yādzu, yards) instead of what would regularly be just ヤード(yādo, yard), so that may be the subtle miles-iles change?

This line would be "The pipes are stuck! They won't even budge!"

And the SFX here is a distant chattering and cheering crowd.

And here is the last scene, with Kaito humming Rem's favorite song. Idk, this just gives me a raw emotional reaction... I can't really analyze it lol. Rejoicing that you've survived through hardship. That while things still aren't perfect, this imminent danger has passed. That you still get to enjoy being alive. The same song of humanity still sang. Something something....

Anyways that’s it for Chapter #09! As always, the Japanese annotations are in the reblogs.

[juliansummerhayes]

Making poetry my life

I have a significant collection of poetry books, which I find myself increasingly drawn to and subsumed by.

As a slight segue, right now, I'm listening to 'The Waste Land: A Biography of a Poem' by Matthew Hollis. I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying both the story of the poem but all the characters that came in and out of T. S. Eliot's ("TSE") life before and after the poem was written. I also have the hardback edition of the book which has some wonderful pictures of TSE and the first editions of the book.

You might ask:

What's so special about poetry?

And I don't find that an easy question to answer, not least because some of the poems I read are or can be hard going but I never give up. Not ever. If I had to try and espouse an answer it's because it makes me see things differently. Not wispish, or ethereal but more metaphysical -- practically zen-like. Yes, that's it. I feel a cerebral quietude that means I can be lost in the reverie of a poem almost before I've started.

I realise that poetry is more than likely in the Marmite bracket of our sensibilities; namely, you either love or hate it. I can understand why that might be the case, particularly when there are so many other ways to invest our time but I remain naively optimistic that there is a poem or poet available to everyone. (It's no accident that I've used the above photo showing the work of the late Mary Oliver -- what a wonderful poet and person she was and the world is a poorer place without her in it.)

I know that my interest in poetry is not a passing fad. If I think back to my earliest years, even though my parents didn't have the slightest interest in literature, less still the poetics of their day, I've had a lifelong fascination with words of all stripes and that is at least one reason why I found and still find poetry so awe-inspiring. It's not just the words mind you; it's also the line breaks, stanzas, sounds, intonation, cadence and (in the case of Bukowkis) dry, ribald humour.

I would like to write more poetry but it's not something that's coming up at the moment but that's okay. Over time I've learned to control my urge, usually fashioned on the spur of the moment, to write and share my words which often turn out ugly, misshapen and not very good. I know I'd be much better off writing out my poetry in a longhand way and then working and reworking it.

Anyhow, as to the rubric. If I could find a way to open a poetry cafe, or pen shop with poetry as its main feature or a forum where poetry books could be swapped, shared and cherished then that wouldn't be far off my fantasy life. And before you quip 'There's still time' I'm not about to throw in the towel on the day job but I'd be lying if I don't want poetry and the whole mellifluous paradigm of the spoken word to play a bigger part in my life.

Take care.

Blessings, Ju

PS. Today I'll be doing a one-hour live poetry reading with a friend of mine. One poem that I'll be reading is Style by Charles Bukowski which is a firm favourite of mine.

Photo by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash

[ravenwolfie97]

okay i have to talk about this because it's been really bothering me lately and i need to say something before i explode

so lately i've been noticing on many videos, shortform or otherwise, that they include subtitles! awesome! super helpful and cool

but idk if it's always been a problem and i'm only noticing it now, or if it's gotten particularly bad lately, but... recently a lot of those subtitles are really really bad

slight tangential anecdote: i used to do some freelance captioning work in between real job hunting, and it was a good experience. i was already interested in doing it, obviously, but i was coached on proper captioning etiquette and guidelines to make it look as nice and readable as possible while also transcribing the audio as best as i could before my superiors would touch it up. so i do know a thing or two about proper subtitling, but even if you didn't you would Know that there are some serious problems right now

i'll give a few non-specific examples (bc i'm too lazy to hunt them down to show you). there is a pretty popular (i think) youtube shorts personality who mostly does reaction-based videos, like i think it's actually mostly tiktok stitches reuploaded to yt shorts. but anyway this person, along with most other tiktok people who have subtitles for their lil internet rambles, are probably only basing off of their voice, like there's some kind of auto-caption that gets most of the words right, save for a couple small ones. i can understand that especially for the reaction/vlog crowd who are just trying to pump out videos, but like. i also follow john and hank green. they also reupload their tiktok stitches to yt shorts and have subtitles. and guess what? they're flawless. immaculate. you Can change them. or maybe they just talk better idk my point still stands that there is issue here stemming from having the computer do it with minimal to no touch-up. which leads me to my next example

one of the first nails in the coffin recently was this one pokemon youtube shorts guy i kept getting where he'd look into old game saves. all of the videos are subtitled, but similar to the tiktoks, it appears to be transcribing the voice on its own. what's worse and the most important here is that - remember - this is a series of pokemon videos. saying a pokemon name and expecting an AI to understand what that is out the gate is insane. and it doesn't. any time a pokemon's name is said, it just spews out words that are vaguely similar-sounding standard english words. and it's never the same each time too, which is fun. this is where taking the time to edit or even give a smidge of a damn to the craft of your video really would mean a lot, because for as many as i've seen it turns me even more off every time i see those shitty subtitles. but unfortunately that's not the worst i've seen in the last few days

the one that hurt me so much i physically could not stand it, to the point that i left a Comment on how bad it was, was an edit of a streamer's twitch VOD. normally, this streamer uploads snippets of their streams to yt shorts and has really good and well-edited captions there! i usually have nothing to complain about from this guy. but this one particular video... i don't know if it's because it's an older VOD and someone's just been holding on to it for months, or if it was a huge rush job, or What. but this video had literally the worst captions i had ever seen. they were just slapped down in chunks, not even lining up with the people who were talking, a negligible amount of punctuation, literally the barest minimum of effort. but that's not all! let's not forget that this is an edited clipshow, and there are Effects and Transitions for not only the video itself but the text as well! so SOME amount of effort was put into this because it got actually edited into a decent-sized video instead of just being a small clip. it's literally makes me sick i am so unhappy about it

main point, TL;DR, moral of the story: for the love of all that is holy, please remember that captioning is literally an accessibility feature. some people cannot hear or are unable to listen to videos sometimes, and i can't imagine what a hearing-impaired person who relies on subtitles to engage with videos would think watching either of my last two examples. what makes it worse, too, is that i can't even tell these people to hire someone to do it for them, because oftentimes they DO have people to do that work for them. and they still fuck it up. and then they continue on, to churn out more content. ugh just take a moment to remember that captions are not just for engagement. they're a tool, and some people can use only those as their guide through your video. don't make it impossible to parse. the purpose of them is to be read and understood. and you can't do that if the sentences are in overlapping chunks or if your words are too non-standard to be translated by a computer

[flydotnet]

Warm Like Birthday Candles

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

A light piece, both in tone and word count, considering it's Whumptober and all. My original plan was actually a fic codenamed """Ultramarine Blue""" that was going to be an ansgty sickfic and a sort of romantic version of a story I wrote in 2021 for my (current, jfc) BTHB card, "Feverish Reflections". I do somewhat ccry the loss of how I'd have been able to use "They don't care about you"… but also, I knew this story was always going to also serve as my 2023 birthday fic for the original blorbo, Tachimukai. And you know what? This time, the angsty-ass sickfic didn't work for me. I wanted to be gentle, for once.

I kind of skipped over Whumptober 2022 and a 2022 edition of the yearly Tachi fic, so this year, he gets to have a bit of a cold, but also to have a badass GF; and I think it's good enough. I may just write Ultramarine Blue later down the line; but for this October 2nd, it's happy birthday and nothing else.

So, happy birthday, Tachimukai. I may not be waxing the hell out of my author's notes like I did four years ago, but be assured, you're still the one fictional character I'll defend to the very end. (Which not even Matsuyama gets to have, may I add, because I sadly have to acknowledge his canon - and it's clearly not as generous as Inazuma's).

---------

Warm Like Birthday Candles

Summary: Haruna's boyfriend is a lot of things: he's caring, he's clever, he's the sweetest man you could dream of… and he's also stupidly stubborn, not unlike her. Well, it takes a stubborn idiot to tame another, she supposes.

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (post-canon)

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here!

---------

“I’m fine Haruna, I swear!”

“Nu-huh, you’ve been feeling weird for days, it’s time you lie down a little and let yourself rest!”

Yuuki sighs, his lips perked up but his eyebrows creased.

“I still have class to do today,” he replies with a cough barely smothered inside his throat. “I don’t wanna let them down.”

She crosses her arms and puffs up her chest. Man, he can be so infuriating sometimes…

“Your students can wait until you’re not sick anymore. You’ve been dragging this cold on for long enough!”

He looks so conflicted, from up there, even through the red splotches of his cheeks and the slight haze of a low-grade fever.

“But… I mean…”

“If you drag this on for much longer, you’ll just make it worse. Plus, look on the bright side, it means staying home on your special day!”

He looks, as always whenever this is the case, utterly unconvinced. In fact, his expression is closer to that of a betrayed man than of a man to whom she’d have just told “see, it’s your birthday, and you don’t even have to work during it! Isn’t that cool?”. This man is going to be the end of her, someday, she’s sure of it.

(Yet even if he turns out to be so, she’ll still be happy that he is her epilogue. They put up with each other so much, he’s worth the hassle of being an unstoppable force pit against an unmoveable object).

((Well, there’s a very good reason why he used to be a goalkeeper – and why he was the best one ever too)).

“It’s not really an excuse, isn’t it?” He coughs into his fist. “The birthday, I mean.”

“That implies your cold is a good enough excuse, doesn’t it?”

He sighs, congestion stifling the noise.

“You’re never going to let me go to work, will you?” He asks back, suddenly resigned.

“If I can have a word about it, absolutely not! Now, let’s just chill on the couch for a bit and I can order us lunch.”

“I don’t even feel this sick, Haruna, this just sounds like overkill.”

She squints her eyes and clicks her tongue.

“Hmph. Let’s see if that holds true, then!” She points to the nearest armchair. “Take a seat.”

“I’m gonna be late to work, Haruna.”

“And I’ll make it quick, so take a seat and stop resisting your fate!”

In spite of his conflicted expression, he chuckles.

“Fine, fine.”

Once she’s made sure he’s actually going to stay seated, she rushes to their bathroom. One glance at the inside of the cabinet and she finds it: the sole thermometer in the whole apartment, ready to be used. With a swift rinse of its end, it’s ready to use, and just as fast as she left the living room, she comes back to it.

With a confident stride, she walks up to him, proudly displaying her tool. He’s focused on the screen of his phone up until he finally notices she’s back. Took him long enough.

“Open up,” she orders.

Yuuki opens his mouth, but not as instructed. She still uses it as an opportunity.

“Sorry,” she continues, “it’s a bit under-handed, I know.”

They both stare at the thing until it beeps, at which point he can finally talk again.

“Please don’t do that again,” is the first thing that exits his mouth.

“38.3,” she quickly snaps back. “I’m pretty sure that’s more than yesterday, and also, a bad enough temperature to take a day off to rest. Knowing you, you’ve overcompensated the previous days.”

As if on cue, he coughs.

“You really aren’t going to let me go to work,” he sighs again, this time wth a smile.

“Nope! So take it easy and unwind, I’m taking care of everything today.”

He glances left and right, before giving a knowing look.

“Or else?”

“Or else I’m calling Tsunami.”

That’s enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“You’re ready for anything, as always.”

“I just know you!”

She puts the thermometer away on the nearby coffee table, then lowers herself just to face him. He looks utterly dejected, which doesn’t come unexpected to her: you can’t just ask a workaholic to let go of his duty and expect him to take it well. She isn’t too different, in that regard, after all.

Despite his painfully obvious displeasure with the turn of events, he takes back his phone, scrolls a bit and starts a call. A couple minutes later, he’s promised to see a doctor so he has a certificate to give and he’s officially gotten the day off.

“I should actually do that. I mean, see a doctor,” he immediately states right afterwards.

She climbs up on him, cupping his cheeks with her hands.

“That I agree with. It’s time you take care of yourself!”

He smiles at this, eyes squinting just enough to be ridiculously endearing.

“You shouldn’t be so close to my face; you’ll end up catching it too.”

“If I’ve not caught it by now, then I just won’t!” She leans back to let him cough into his elbow. “But that visit to the doctor is a good idea. It’ll make you feel a bit better once you’ve got the right medicine in.” She sighs, this time to herself. “Talk about your special day, huh. Having to go to the doctor and stuff.”

“To be fair, you’re the one who’s always made it special. I didn’t really pay muchc attention to my birthday before we started dating.”

“You can’t say that to me and pretend like Tsunami didn’t do the heavy lifting!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right: Tsunami and you made it special.”

“That’s better. What do you want to do, now?”

“Well, let’s knock the doctor visit down, and then we can… We can just relax, I guess.”

The words may be foreign to his tongue, but they make her happy to hear.

“That’s a good plan, yes! A quick go, a drop by the pharmacy, and we can make this day as good as can be, okay?”

“Okay.”

[pathos-logical]

Copying tags in accessible ways on mobile

(Large text: Copying tags in accessible ways on mobile)

People screenshot tags all the time, whether to share a funny joke or add important commentary, but they often don't realize that this is inaccessible to vision-impaired people and many others. This is a problem because a lot of people primarily use Tumblr on the mobile app, which doesn't let you interact with tags at all unless you screenshot them. However, accessibility is always worth the extra time and effort you can spare, so here are some ways for you to easily copy tags without spending too much of either!

Image-to-text softwares

(Large text: Image-to-text softwares)

If you simply must screenshot those tags, you can still convert them back into usable text! There are plenty of easy-to-use websites that allow you to take any downloaded image and extract the text from them. I prefer onlineocr.net, but the Google Translate app has the same feature! All you need to do is input the image and hit the button, and it'll spit out the text for you to copy. This method is fantastic for images with lots of text, not to mention it's easy to do and generally accurate, and I use it all the time to great effect!

Going to browser

(Large text: Going to browser)

If you're on mobile, it's probably a safe bet to say that your phone also has a browser app. If so, all you need to do to copy the tags from a post is copy the link of said post into a browser and then copy the tags from there. This method can mean extra formatting, since hashtags and links won't copy over, but it's relatively low-effort to do and doesn't take long at all!

Going on PC

(Large text: Going on PC)

If you're on mobile, you can also consider saving the post with desired tags to your drafts. This means you can easily access it on another device, aka a computer, and copy the tags there! Copying tags on desktop is possibly the easiest way to do it, since all you need to do is highlight the text and paste it later- it'll even save the link formatting when you do! The only extra step you might have to do is add spaces between the tags, since they'll automatically come smushed together and only separated by hashtags. This method might mean you take a little longer to reblog the tags, but it is very much worth it to make the post accessible to all!

Going forth

(Large text: Going forth)

These methods are a smidgen more effort than just screenshotting or prev tagging, but I don't think it's a bad tradeoff at all! I hope this can provide quick and easy ways for everyone to get more used to thinking more conscientiously about accessibility. And these aren't your only options- alt text helps people who use screenreaders, and you should always add an image description below screenshots if you're going to add them. Hope this helps!

TL;DR: Instead of screenshotting tags, which makes them inaccessible, other options are: using image-to-text software, copying the tags on a mobile browser, or copying them on desktop Tumblr.

[sammyboyimagines]

Five's a Crowd

Pairing: Jonathan x Reader

Summary: Jonathan can't keep his eyes off you, and Argyle decides to step in. But after a stupid mistake, Jonathan finds out how you really feel about him.1.9k words

Warnings: swearing, one mention of sex but not 18+, drug use, lovesick Jonathan, Mike and Will (idk I just felt the need to tell you)

//i've been so excited to write this, Jonathan is one of my favorite characters, I love him so much but that's not the point. Jonathan is very defensive in this imagine but is also madly in love. He also has a staring problem but that's probably canon and me too tbh. srry I'm rambling. ALSO!! ROBIN FIC THIS WEEKEND I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED.

"Are you serious right now? Just talk to her!" Argyle examined his "weeder"/weed-shaped bird feeder and made some slight edits while Jonathan attempted to focus on the wooden project in front of himself. He couldn't stop staring at you from across the room, the way you stared at your book with deep focus, it was breathtaking.

"You don't get it! I've only been with Nancy, and that was messy enough! I'm terrible at talking to girls." Jonathan looks at his project, semi-satisfied with his creation. Argyle rolled his eyes and sat beside him.

"Sounds like you're in desperate need of a new woman, some well-deserved hanky panky. Cough cough, with Y/n." Jonathan sputtered something along the lines of "gross" and shoved him lightly.

"Dude, I'm not just looking for…that. I'm looking for a solid relationship with her!" Argyle nodded, watching him put his head down on the table.

"So tell her that, man! Tell her you wanna be more than friends. I've seen the way she looks at you when you aren't paying attention." Jonathan just rolled his eyes. How could someone so beautiful have any interest in a lowlife like him? You had so much ahead of you, and he'd be lucky if he graduated at this point.

"You're just telling me these things to make me ask her out! I've never asked anyone out before. I bet you she doesn't even like me as a friend." he held his head in his hands with a heavy exhale. Argyle pats his back sympathetically. "Dude, she literally babysat your little brother a few times. She obviously likes you!" Argyle pushed his long hair out of his face and watched his nervous friend. His eyes were trained on you, the way you twirled your pencil in between your fingers. It made him imagine what those fingers would feel like in his hair, massaging his scalp as he lay in your lap.

"So? She could just like babysitting or something?" Jonathan shrugged it off, watching Argyle jump up. He always was a tad bit dramatic.

"Are you serious right now? Dude no chick would babysit a guy's little brother if she didn't have a big fat crush on him! You need to clear your mind and just go for it." Argyle set the weeder on the table and said his goodbyes right before class ended.

That conversation was long forgotten because not even a week later, Jonathan, Argyle, Mike, Will, and you, were packed into the Surfer Boy van looking for any sign of El. You'd met El before, but you didn't know much about her other than her name and what she looked like. "Why is it so important that we go after her? Why don't we call the police and let them deal with it? I know she's your sister but we don't even know where we're going!" You were very confused and worried that the van would run out of gas and leave you stranded in rural California.

"You don't understand! El has powers and bad people are searching for her. We need to get her back before something happens to her!" Mike was quick to defend her. That sentence made your brain hurt.

"We missed several steps here, El has…powers?" You rubbed your face in exhaustion. You'd been on the road for hours already.

"Y/n, can you just for once accept that there are things you don't know about? The sooner you open your mind, the sooner you'll understand." Jonathan snapped at you, he had been driving for 7 hours. He was tired, but it was rude nonetheless. He'd never snapped at you before.

"Well excuse me for asking. Next time you ask me to go anywhere I'll say no." You didn't want to be involved in the first place, but when Will and Jonathan were upset, it made you upset.

"Yeah whatever, next time I won't ask you to come." he gripped the steering wheel harshly. Argyle was practically tearing his hair out at the argument he was witnessing.

You were cringing at Jonathan's harsh words. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Jonathan had never said anything like this in your presence, let alone to your face. You turned to face the window, the passenger seat next to your crush becoming your worst nightmare. Jonathan was staring at the road ahead with brooding eyes, his knuckles turning white from the hard grip.

Will and Mike looked between you two, feeling the obvious bad tension between Jonathan and you. Argyle was freaking out in the back, worried that his friend just ruined his chance with his crush. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he mumbled to himself. As much as he loved his smart, nervous, terribly lonely friend…he was five seconds from smacking him upside his head.

Jonathan pulled over after another hour on the road for a short break before Argyle would take the wheel. Jonathan stood near the side of the van, looking off into the distance. Argyle took this opportunity to have a little chat with him.

"So, how are you feeling?" He tried to gently approach the subject of you. Jonathan shrugged. "Just tired, why?" he ran a hand through his long hair.

"No reason. It's just that maybe you need to apologize to a certain someone." He trailed off, taking a hit from his blunt. "A certain someone who offered to help you with no second thought…" he exhaled smoke into the air. "A certain woman who happens to be staring daggers at you right now…" he chuckled when he saw you struggling to keep your eyes off of Jonathan.

He rolled his eyes. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything." Jonathan was so out of it that he hadn't realized how harsh he had been when telling you off. Argyle looked taken aback.

"Hold up, rewind. This is not you, man. I remember you snapping at her. You told her that you'd never take her anywhere again and that she's a know-it-all. That doesn't sound very "loverboy", does it?" Argyle took another hit and leaned against the van.

"Fuck, I really said that? God, I'm so stupid. Now she'll never want to give me a chance." Jonathan put his head in his hands, ignoring the snickering coming from Mike and Will.

"I doubt it. She's hanging out with Mike and Will and she's been staring at you this entire time. She clearly cares a little bit." Jonathan watched you talk to his little brother, it made his heart soar when he saw how much you cared for him and the people around him.

Man, he royally fucked up.

Before Argyle could get another word in, Jonathan was storming across the street to reach you, Will, and Mike. "Hey guys, can you leave us alone for a second?" They left, beelining for the van.

"Took you long enough," Will mumbled to Jonathan before catching up to Mike. Jonathan cringed to himself and took in a deep breath, his chest feeling very heavy all of the sudden.

You glanced at him, your arms crossed across your chest. "Everything okay?" despite his lashing out earlier, you weren't too offended by his words. He sighed in response.

"Everything's fine I just need you to listen, okay? You don't have to say anything because I know I don't deserve forgiveness for yelling at you earlier. I'm so sorry for getting angry at you today, I don't know what got into me. I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't mean to sound so horrible. I'm tired, it's no excuse but that might have something to do with it. I hope I didn't upset you, it wasn't my intention." Jonathan examined your face for any signs of anger, sadness, or anything.

"No, don't worry about it! I know you're stressed." you put a hand on his shoulder, it felt like second nature the minute you opened your mouth. "Don't beat yourself up about it, I know you didn't mean any of it." You could have said anything and it would have made Jonathan melt. However, he didn't believe you when you told him it was alright.

"No Y/n. You don't deserve this, any of this. I should have left you in California where you'd be safe. And I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I'm such a dumbass-"

You couldn't take it anymore, seeing him worry and grovel. You kissed him, your soft lips connected with his. He froze up for a second before his hands found their way to your waist. "What was that?" he chuckles breathlessly.

"You're not a bad guy, Jonathan. You're doing your best and you know damn well I would rather be with you than in stupid California. Could you imagine me getting through a school day without our little smoke breaks?" He found himself laughing for the first time since they left Cali. It was true, you both found a spot behind the bleachers in a less populated area of the school to talk and smoke for a little while. It was his favorite part of the day. Hell, he wouldn't even go to school if he knew you wouldn't be there.

"Yes, you were a little mean, but I've snapped at you many times and you haven't given up on me. I'm here to stay whether you like it or not." You watched him smile. Jonathan wasn't the most outgoing guy, but his smile was bright enough to light even the darkest days.

You pulled him in for a longer kiss, your hands holding onto his shirt for as long as he'd let you. "Does this mean you like me?" Jonathan asked, his hopes almost as high as Argyle right now.

"Yes, and I accept your apology. Let's go save El, who has powers and many bad guys coming after her. Still makes no sense." you held his hand as you two walked back to the van, the bright Cali sun burning through your light clothing as your body felt warm and heated from the lovely conversation with Jonathan.

Argyle was leaning out of the driver's side window. "Did you two finally make up or do I have to step in?" You rolled your eyes and pecked Jonathan's cheek.

"Finally, I'm done being your wingman. You're very frustrating, you know that? You help a guy out and then he screams at the lady he loves, typical." With that, Argyle drives off, quickly going 30 miles over the speed limit. It's a wonder how the police haven't pulled him over yet.

"Finally you can stop moping around all day because of her." He laughed when Jonathan got offended. "Really?" he let out a sigh. "Yeah, mopey dick." He turned to face the road again.

"Now, remind me. Where are we going again?"

//so yeah robin fic this weekend, and some billy headcanons sometime next week! Glad to be posting more lol

[blindingdutchy]

share | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

summary: you don't like to share, but Tom's going to show you what happens to stingy girls on the playground.

word count: 10,663

warnings: i consider this a part two to switch. smut, little bit of angst, fluffy ending. language. explicit warnings under divide.

18+!!! minors stay away!

warnings: mean dom!tom, slight dom!fem oc, voyeurism, mff threesome, degradation, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), orgasm denial, touch denial, slight bondage (hands tied only), jealous reader + arrogant tom, some daddy + sir kink

divider

There was a familiar ache in your core as you made your way into work that day. It was a sensation that shouldn't have embarrassed you anymore considering it was in your line of work to take a beating of the sexual sort, but your blood bubbled with fluttery shame anyways because you knew it was definitely not from any job you'd done. The handprints that lingered on your skin were Tom's, as was the throbbing between your legs.

Your coworkers had grown accustomed to the funny way you'd been walking; after all, it had been months of you turning up to the studio just like this. Aching all over, exhausted, and all flustered smiles as every little jolt of pain in your body reminded you of him. Tom really knew how to keep a woman coming back for more, to say the least.

Despite the tender way you were forced to move around, you were excited to get into work that day. You'd been working on a new project behind the scenes for almost a month already, and today you were finally meeting with your favorite director and photographer to start the ball rolling. This was what you'd been fantasizing about doing ever since you'd been brought into the agency--straying away from your dominatrix persona and onto a more personal, enjoyable path.

Priscilla was already waiting for you in the conference room, bursting with energy as she always was and chatting the ears off of Archie. The two of them were sliding a few of your scribbled mock-ups around, along with more than a few stills of your naked body, and nestled so deeply into a conversation that they didn't notice the click of the door as it shut behind you. Even clearing your throat couldn't break their concentration.

"Starting without me?" you questioned, loudly, and finally caught the glimmering eyes of Priscilla.

Priscilla was practically buzzing with excitement as she grinned at you, clapping her hands once before waving you over, "(Y/N), perfect timing! So, Archie and I were thinking about your ideas for doing a cam-girl style video--"

She chattered on and on, only pausing every so often to take a heaving breathe before continuing. The more she said, the more you realized just how much work the two of them had done without you--Priscilla was already pitching set designs and potential scenarios for each video, and Archie was doing his best to help you visualize the filmography he had in mind. It was pretty hard to keep up, but you had to admit seeing their passion for the project only spurred your own to burn a little brighter.

The project was something you'd been dreaming of for awhile. A solo series of videos in the iconic style of a cam-girl; just you, your camera, and whatever you felt like putting out there for the world to see. For so long you'd been afraid to even pitch the idea out of fear of being denied funding, and rightfully so.

You'd had to fight tooth and nail to gain the backing of the agency. It had been a month of pitching idea after idea, crunching numbers and screening all the statistics of solo work so that you could propose a target profit for the company. In the end, you'd gotten the green light--but there was a lot riding on this first video.

If you failed to meet the target you'd set for yourself, the agency would pull the plug on the project and you'd be right back to the leather outfits and whining men. The thought of it urged you to outperform all the standards you'd set for yourself. You were peddle to the metal, full throttle ahead, and Priscilla and Archie's sounding board of ideas were exactly the encouragement you needed.

Archie fiddled with some settings on his camera, instructing you on a few head shots until he was satisfied. "That's it!" he cheered, "You like it? Obviously we'll work on better lighting for the videos, and there'll be editing--but I think this suits you."

Peering over his shoulder, your heart soared at the work of your favorite camera man. "Oh, Archie! That's perfect... If you'd just shown me that I'd definitely think it was the real deal." you gasped, and he grinned at you cheerfully. "How about a lunch break before we get back to work?"

The two of them muttered some hushed agreements, nodding absentmindedly as Priscilla looked over the photos and they returned to the scatter of papers and film on the table. "Yeah, yeah, you go ahead, honey." Priscilla cooed, waving a hand over her shoulder carelessly before tilting her head and squinting her eyes at one of your drawings. "Oh, what do you think about--no, that won't do... but maybe?"

With a hushed chuckle, you shook your head at the two of them and backed out of the room quietly. It almost seemed as if they were more excited than you were, but your stomach was rumbling and you needed something to eat before you started chewing on paper like a goat. Only, along the way toward the exit you paused outside one of the studios at the sound of Tom's voice.

Peeking inside, you smiled at the sight of his mop of curls bobbing--the smile faded to a grimace as you realized he was in no position to talk at the moment. You trailed a little further into the room and shot a tentative smile to one of the crew members who nodded to you, no longer surprised by your presence. Many times before you'd sat in on Tom's filming days, as he had done yours, but never before had you seen him at work with his most frequent costar.

Her name was Melaina, a startlingly attractive woman with what you were fairly certain was the world's most perfect face, and she was the star of most of Tom's work. You had nothing against her, having run into her quite a few times at work and never being anything short of pleased with her sweet and charismatic aura, but man was it hard not to feel inferior as you watched the two of them in action. It was as if they knew what the other would do before they even moved, connected on some spiritual level that boosted their chemistry to an astronomical level.

Tom's body was glistening with sweat and oil, his eyes dark and hooded with lust as he towered over her. The muscles in his back, chest, and arms all rippled with every move he made and caught the light just right, and you found yourself shifting on your feet subconsciously as you watched. Your hands twitched with the desire to push that one stubborn curl out of his face as it slid across his forehead, heavy and sodden with sweat.

Melaina gave a breathy moan that had you swallowing down a lump in your throat, her hands raking down Tom's chest only for him to swat them away and pin them to the bed above her head, "No touching!" he snapped, voice booming through the cavernous room, and you nearly groaned in sync with his counterpart. Too many times he'd growled those words to you, just like that, and the heat between your legs throbbed at the memory.

"Please, daddy," Melaina wailed, "I wanna cum!"

For a moment you rolled the name around your tongue, pursing your lips as you pondered what it would feel like to call Tom such a thing. It didn't feel right though; a sour taste compared to the deliciously sweet way sir rolled from your lips. His low, devilish chuckle brought you back to the present as you focused on the scene before you.

With a long, drawn out roll of his hips, Tom leaned down to Melaina's ear and spoke, "Bad girls don't get to come, darling."

Oh, fuck.

Hearing that name, that one little word, spill forth from his lips in reference to someone other than yourself ignited a certain flame within you that you hadn't felt in quite some time. It was green; everything tinged green in your vision like the sickening tone of the clouds before a treacherous storm. Jealousy wasn't something you wore often, but hearing that was enough to sit the crown of envy heavily upon your head.

Almost as if he could sense it, sense your turmoil, Tom's head tilted back until he looked you heavily in the eye. Your jaw tensed as he continued to push his hips harder through Melaina's cries and pleas, fingers clenching into fists as you tried to get yourself under control. It didn't mean anything.

You and Tom were nothing but friends with benefits, heavy on the benefits and light on the friendship, and this was his job. Hell, it was your job too! It didn't mean a damn thing.

His eyes never strayed from yours as that familiar pinch formed between his brows, his entire body growing rigid. He was brutal with the force of his hips, his hands groping roughly at Melaina's perfect ass and his lips parting in a silent 'o' that grew wider and wider until--there it was. His eyes locked on yours, Tom thrust twice more as a gritted laugh burst from his chest and he stilled completely. She mewled beneath him like a vixen, arching off the bed and crying, "Yes, daddy! Cum for me!"

He knew. His haughty smirk, ticked jaw, and glinting eyes told you well enough that he knew exactly what you were feeling, all the bitter and envious thoughts swirling through your mind. He knew, and he was thoroughly enjoying the way you were rooted in place under the weight of all your jealousy, your eyes locked with his and unable to break free.

"Cut!"

The sound of the clapper snapping and the director's loud shout startled you out of the strange limbo of envy and hunger you'd been trapped in. Tom muttered something to Melaina with a flirtatious grin that made your gut twist, and she laughed loudly whilst slapping a hand across his chest playfully. Suddenly, you weren't so hungry anymore, nor were you entirely interested in speaking to Tom.

You were out of focus for the rest of your day at work, earning disgruntled and concerned stares from your two colleagues who were working tirelessly to perfect all of your plans before the test shoot the following day. All of your thoughts were consumed with Tom, though, and it left you feeling nauseous. Never before had you cared much at all that he was with other women, knowing it was just a day's work for him, but seeing him with Melaina had truly rubbed you raw in the worst way.

The ache between your legs didn't make your heart flutter for the moment. Instead, each time you moved wrong and felt that persistent twinge, it made bile creep up your throat and your face burn with a mixture of bitter emotions. It wasn't that you were suddenly craving more from Tom--because you weren't, and as much as you enjoyed his company you weren't interested in a relationship.

Inferiority was a hell of a bitter pill. That was the root of the green eyed monster that was steadily taking control of you; Melaina made you feel inferior, and you hated it more than anything. Clearly he found her to be a better costar than you, considering he'd not once requested you even after starring in your own special. That was the first strike.

But, was she a better lay than you? Did she feel better, make him feel better than you? Did she talk dirtier, obey faster, and mold herself into whatever he wanted better than you? What if you weren't the only one he invited into his own bed at night?

By the time you left work the sun was setting, hours had passed, and you were exhausted from your racing mind. Usually Tom would have come to find you after he finished filming, but he hadn't and that bothered you. You knew it was probably all a game to him, a way for him to get you all riled up and tease you for it, but you weren't playing. You didn't want to play his games today, and when he finally texted you that night you left all of his messages on read with an acrid taste in your mouth.

"Ready for the big day?"

A peculiar sense of deja vu washed over you as you opened your dressing room door to reveal Tom perched on the other vanity seat, a tiny smile twitching at his lips and a twinkle in his eye. You really should have expected him to be there considering he'd been eagerly talking about watching you film for days, but after ignoring him you were more than surprised to see him waiting patiently for you to arrive. The door shut with a dull click, and Tom watched you closely.

Whatever he was playing at, you weren't going to bite--today was a big day for you, and nothing was going to distract you from your work. "What are you doing here?" you asked, huffing as your voice cracked and robbed you of your attempt to play it cool.

He just chuckled, a hoarse and airy sound, and licked his lips, "You think I'd miss the chance to see my girl touch herself for hours?"

His girl?

The words swirled around your brain the entire time you got ready, Marlena eyeing you curiously as you twiddled your thumbs quietly and payed no mind to either of the two people in your presence. What the hell did he mean by that? Why did your heart go on the fritz at those two silly words?

"Are you mad at me, lovie?" Eyes flickering over to Tom, you grew hot under his speculative gaze. Head tilted to one side, brown eyes narrowed slightly, and lips puckered in a tiny pout that made you swoon, he asked, "Have I done something to upset you?"

In the mirror you could see Marlena fighting back a smile, looking between the two of you with quivering lips as she held herself back from interrupting the moment. "No," you muttered, dropping your eyes back to your fiddling fingers, "I'm just nervous."

You didn't have to look to know that Tom was smirking, the sound of his soft laughter cluing you into the fact well enough. There was that deja vu again, your mind traveling back to that first time he'd sat in your dressing room and asked if he made you nervous. Teasingly, he asked, "Am I making you nervous, darling?"

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, "No."

Tom's eyes were all over you the moment you stepped onto the set and dropped your robe into an assistant's waiting arms. Clad in a skimpy lace negligee with nothing underneath, it was understandable that he'd be quite enraptured--never before had you worn something so dainty for your work, nor had you ever worn anything quite like the transparent scrap during any of your visits to his apartment. Even you yourself were quite enthralled by the look of it, having admired your reflection in the mirror for ages before finally joining the crew to start working.

As you soaked up the warm, tingling sensation of his ravenous eyes trailing over every inch of your body, you slowly relaxed into his presence. All the thoughts of Melaina drifted away, and you were biting back pleased smiles each and every time you acknowledged his gaze. It felt nice; it felt like it had every time he'd watched you film before, only better because now you were finally fully enjoying your project.

He hung back beside Priscilla in front of the big screen which displayed all the different camera angles whilst you ambled your way around the set. It wasn't complete, but it was enough for you all to get an idea of what the final design should be. A queen sized bed with dark, silk sheets in the center of a warmly lit stage, piled high with pillows of all sizes--already you were imagining towering bed posts with chiffon curtains framing the beautiful space.

There was one camera posted at the foot of the bed which was to be the main view point for the video. Climbing aboard you shifted until your bottom was posted over the scribbled X and leaned back onto your elbows, your knees propped up and spread wide. "How's this look?" you called out, craning your neck to see Priscilla, Archie, and Tom.

"Slide up a bit," Archie bellowed back, "a bit more--that's it! Oh, fuck, that looks amazing."

Having slid up the mattress half a foot, your head fell onto the bed of pillows that were finally within reach. From your new vantage point you could admire Tom, and the sight of him was enough to already have your thighs dampening. It seemed as if he were unsure as to where to look, his eyes flickering back and forth from the blown up, pixelated version of you to the real deal hastily.

The angle was awkward, and no matter how hard you stared he never made eye contact. It was then that you realized he couldn't see your face, at least not the real one, and a certain thrill sparked within you. Trailing your fingers over your stomach slowly, you reached for the frilled edge of the fabric and bit back a giggle as he tensed all over.

Licking your lips in time with Tom, you shouted, "Should we get started, then?"

Within seconds the clapper was dropped, and Priscilla boomed, "Test one, rolling!"

It was strange having to force yourself to look into the camera, rather than avoiding it so as not to ruin the flow of a scene. But, after a few moments of running your hands over your body and trying to get into the right mindset, your mind drifted away from the crowded room and into your own personal bubble. In there, that secret place you escaped to, it was just yourself and Tom.

Your body heated as you pictured him in place of the camera. In your vision he was bare and glistening, just for you; sitting on his heels with his knees spread apart and his hands ghosting over his length languidly. So many nights you'd laid before him like this, aching and begging for his hands to take the place of your own.

"Show me what those fingers can do, darling." he cooed, voice silky and sweeter than honey. It was a stark contrast to the dark, all-consuming pull of his brown eyes that lusted for you greedily.

Breathing a little harder, you tugged the stretchy lace further down your chest until your breasts were exposed to the chilled air. Tom's eyes glimmered, his tongue swiping over his lower lip, and you desperately wished it were his lips wrapping around one of your pebbled buds instead of your clammy fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you imagined it; reminiscing on the sensation of his hot, silky tongue swirling around your nipples and tugging them delightfully into his mouth.

It was incredibly hard not to cry out for him as you descended further into the scenario you'd created for yourself. Nevertheless, you swallowed down all the whimpers of his name that bubbled to your lips eagerly, instead whining soft noises that even turned yourself on. "Love those pretty sounds, (Y/N)." he always hummed down your ear, scorching breathe fanning all across your neck.

The facade didn't fade as you opened your eyes again with heavy lids that begged to fall shut again. You tugged hard at one of your rosebuds in sync with Tom's harsh pull over his cock, and your back arched as you gave a loud cry. He moved his hand faster and clenched his eyes shut for a second as he groaned, "Enough teasing, lovie, show me that perfect pussy. Wanna see you cum all over your fingers f'me."

You couldn't have agreed more. Your heat was hot and dripping, your thighs slipping across the sheets a little more easily as you pooled your juices onto the mattress longingly. Tracing your fingers over the swell of your chest and down your stomach, you peeled your flimsy gown back until it was all bunched up beneath your breasts.

Tom watched with baited breathe, held perfectly in sync with your own burning chest, as you teased your fingers all around where you ached to be touched the most. Just as you finally dipped the tip of your middle finger into the slick, a shuffle and quiet laugh shattered the vision of Tom. You huffed in frustration the buzzing in your veins dulled and your hand fell limp over your bare middle.

"Cut!" Priscilla shouted, and even she sounded frustrated as you sat up and ripped your negligee back down, "That was really good, (Y/N)! Wanna have a look?"

You did, but you could barely hear the words coming from Priscilla's mouth as you took in the scene before you. There was Tom, hands cupped over his crotch like they always were when he watched you film, but this time he wasn't watching you. Instead, he was entirely focused on Melaina who stood beside him with one dainty hand stroking his arm, the other twirling the skirt of her sundress lazily.

Your blood boiled to life once more, but no longer was it out of desire for Tom. Pursing your lips, you called back to Priscilla, "No, let's just keep going." He was still engrossed in his hushed conversation with her, and you added pettily, "Might I remind some of you to be quiet on set!"

Melaina's stifled giggle turned the green hue in your eyes red, but you took a deep breathe and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything. The mantra echoed through your head as you did your best to keep your ridiculous envy at bay; Tom wasn't yours, nor were you his, and you had nothing to be jealous of.

You did, however, roll your eyes at the sight of Tom's devious smirk. It only widened at the action, and in spite of your wish to pretend he didn't affect you, your thigh clenched subconsciously. "Sorry, darling, we'll be quiet." he hummed, greedily soaking up the distasteful purse of your lips with his eyes.

It was harder to get back into the groove once the cameras started rolling again. Tom's image wavered in place of the camera, your mind clouded with all the conflicting emotions you were feeling, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't get back into that bubble. You pushed through, though, and picked up where you'd left off.

"Look at you," Tom simpered as your fingers dipped into your slick once again, your jaw slackening as you toyed one finger through your entrance, "absolutely dripping for me. Does it get you off to see me with another woman?"

What the hell was that? His words were like a record scratch in your mind, your fingers recoiling from your throbbing core in shock. Trying again, you changed your direction and drifted your fingers to your clit with a soft sigh. Closing your eyes to shut out his smirking face again, you rolled the soft pads over your bud and felt your lips part in a hushed moan.

How easy it would have been to keep them closed and push yourself over that edge with nothing but the sensation to edge you forward, but you knew that wouldn't make for a satisfying watch. So, begrudgingly, you opened your eyes again to the scene you'd created for yourself. Tom was sitting on the bed now, his legs spread wide before him to leave space for you between, and his length was laid against his thigh lazily. The tip was weeping and blazing red, a thick drop of pearly precum making your lips tingle with desire.

His hands wrapped around the footboard of the bed, gripping the solid wood so tightly his knuckles turned white and his arms rippled with unbridled strength. All that muscle, the sinewy, languid curl of hard muscle beneath soft flesh pulled taught in restraint; it was enough to have you drooling. Your fingers slipped easily from your swollen clit to your slit, and you dipped the tip of your middle finger inside with a choked cry.

Tom moaned back at you, his cock twitching as he flexed his stomach, eyes glued to the tight clench of your cunt around your fingers. "Fuck, lovie, do your fingers feel as good as mine?" he asked, "Does that pussy feel as good as hers?"

What the fuck?

Melaina's giggle echoed through the set, piercing the thickened air and startling you nearly as much as the wild turn your imagination had taken. Growling angrily, you slapped your hands onto the mattress beside you and pouted, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Melaina squeaked, sounding so genuinely apologetic it only irritated you further, "Stop it, Tom, you made me laugh."

Sitting up once more, propped up on your hands, you scowled fiercely at the sight of Tom's arm draped over her shoulders and his head dipped low to whisper in her ear. His eyes were trained on you, though, and you knew damn well that coy smirk that teased at his lips was meant for you alone. Melaina gripped the hand over her shoulder tightly as she stifled another laugh, eyes twinkling to match the beaming smile on her face.

Backing his lips away from Melaina's hair, Tom faced you dead on as his head cocked to the side playfully. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed as he winked at you. That bastard! You flopped back onto the bed with a growl, wanting nothing more than to kick him off the set, but you refrained. You knew it would only cement what he'd already figured out within his head; it would prove that you were without a doubt, one hundred and ten percent jealous.

"How about we take five, everyone!"

You practically threw yourself off of the bed, snatching your robe from the timid assistant with a huff before stomping off the set entirely. What was he playing at? It was one thing for Tom to toy with you, but to purposefully throw you off when you were working? That was low.

Alone in the small room, you dropped your head onto your vanity with a loud groan of annoyance. So many new emotions were swirling around you, plaguing your mind and twisting your gut up into knots so tight you actually felt ill. You couldn't even begin to unravel the twisted mess to pick apart all the different things you were feeling.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and you didn't have to look to know who it was. "G'way!" you grumbled, hissing angrily when the door opened anyways, "I said--"

Tom crashed his lips to yours, choking your words and the muffled squeal of surprise that escaped you. Pushing his weight onto you and pinning you to the chair, he bit down on your lower lip until you whined pitifully, pulling away to look you heavily in the eye, "You ignored me last night."

"So? I wasn't feeling it." you retorted, the almost lie making your stomach flutter. "Is that why you're trying to ruin my test shoot? Another bullshit punishment?"

He gaped at you for a moment, his lips parting in surprise as he blinked down at you wordlessly. But, just as you were settling into the triumph of finally rendering him speechless, he sputtered a sinister chuckle and smirked. Clicking his tongue reproachfully, he tutted, "Are you jealous, darling? Is that what this little tantrum is about? Are you jealous of Melaina?"

The words of your imaginary Tom echoed in your ears, the thin flesh and cartilage heating up in embarrassment as you scoffed, "No, why the hell would you think that?"

Smirk widening, he leaned close to nuzzle his face into your ear as he hummed, "Mm, I think you're lying, lovie. I think you were jealous watching me fuck her yesterday, and today you're so bothered you can't even perform. Envy is a hell of a thing, wouldn't you say?"

His lips sucked on the tender skin of your earlobe, drawing the faintest of whimpers from your lips, and he released it with a dramatic suckle of a wet, sloppy kiss. He whispered tauntingly, "Did it make you jealous to see me cum for somebody else? To see me fuck Melaina instead of you?"

"N-no-- oh, fuck."

Tom's fingers dragged heavily through your folds, a gush of your juices immediately flooding into his open palm in response. His thumb rolled over your clit faintly, teasing the rapidly swelling bundle as he chuckled right into your ear, "Don't lie to me, darling."

That stupid name that he'd called her made you steel your resolve, stubbornly repeating, "'M not jealous, Tom. You can fuck whoever you want."

His fingers plunged into you to the knuckle, earning a loud gasp as your hands flew to his arms and clutched him tightly. "Yeah? 'S that so?" he asked, nipping the hot skin of your neck until you whined desperately, "Think I'd like a taste then, love."

This was certainly turning out far better than you'd expected. With a racing heart and a quivering breathe, you gasped, "Please, Tom." Tom's eyes narrowed at you, his expression hardening as he pinched your hip in warning. "Please, I want you to have a taste, sir."

He grinned, patting your cheek in a playful slap as he cooed, "There's my good girl. Spread your legs, darling."

Obediently, you eagerly spread your legs until your thighs were digging into the sides of your chair and shaking as you fought to keep them splayed so wide. The lace of your negligee was pulled taught and curled up over your hips at the movement, exposing all of you to Tom's greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he gazed down at his fingers still buried inside you as deep as they would go, flexing the two digits and closing his eyes as you cursed and clenched around them.

You crooned as he pulled them out and thrust them back in slowly, curling until the tips dragged over your spot lazily. "Please, sir, want your tongue, too." you pleaded, digging your thighs further into the seat as you rutted down onto his once again motionless fingers.

His eyes snapped open and he quirked his one ruffled brow playfully, "Yeah? You want my fingers and my tongue?" Tom dug the pad of his thumb into your clit deeply, pressing your button down and making your entire body spasm from the harsh stimulation, "I don't know if you deserve both, lovie. You're lucky you're even getting my fingers."

Whining, you threw your head back childishly and ground your hips into his fingers indignantly. He kept them steady, only slightly brushing your g-spot through your forced motion, and his free hand clamped down on your thigh in a bruising grip. "Please!" you begged, "Please, sir, I'll be so good!"

Your pleas molded into a shout as his lips closed suddenly around your clit, his thumb sliding aside to spread your folds open for him as he sucked at your sensitive nub harshly. Tom's fingers pulled out slowly before slamming back into you, his fist effectively punching your core and making you ache, but you moaned and begged for more. Each forceful blow pushed his fingers right into your spot, the tips curling to drag against your upper wall with every motion.

In mere moments you were seeing stars. Your stomach was tightening beyond measure, that coil winding so tight you feared you might break when it finally snapped, but you met each thrust of his hand with a jerk of your hips eagerly. His tongue flicked against your clit in rapid kitten licks, sparking your body to spasm violently each time. "I'm so close, sir!" you gasped, digging your nails into the armrest of your seat as your back arched in pleasure, "I'm gonna--"

With one last long, hard suck on your bundle, Tom pulled away from you completely. His fingers ripped away from your dripping slit and slid in between his glistening lips, that tongue swirling dramatically around the digits as he sat back on his heels much like he had in your imagination. Gaping, you huffed, "What the hell, Tom?"

He grinned devilishly, "Admit you were jealous, and I'll let you cum."

Sputtering, you spat out, "I told you I wasn't jealous."

"Mm, but I know you're lying, darling," he teased, eyes glinting playfully, "and I want to hear you admit it. You wanna cum all over my fingers and my tongue?"

You nodded hesitantly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whispered, "Yes, sir."

He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours and his lips ghosting over your own as he whispered, "Admit you were jealous."

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breathe. You felt hot all over with embarrassment, your skin burning and your blood boiling beneath, but fuck, you really wanted that sweet release that only he could give you. So, with trembling lips, you whispered, "I was jealous."

Eyes still closed, you jumped as his fingers brushed over your clit in a feather light touch. He pressed a slow, soft kiss to your lips that had you chasing him for more when he backed away and asked, "Are you still jealous?" One finger toyed with your slit, drawing a harsh line up and down your entrance as you resisted the urge to push further into his hand.

"Y-yes."

He chuckled, and your eyes snapped open as he backed away from you, his hand disappearing from your core. His eyes were dark in a ruthless stare as he stated, "You need to learn to share, love. Stingy girls don't get to cum." And, just like that, he retreated from the room leaving you staring after him in utter shock.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when you rocked up to Tom's apartment that night following his typical, "You up?" text. What you most certainly had not expected, though, was to find Melaina sprawled out on his sofa in nothing but a sheer negligee--nothing at all underneath. In a strange sense, you figured you should have seen it coming; what better way for Tom to torment you than to make you face the root of your jealousy?

"Mm, on second thought," you hummed, pursing your lips as you took in the woman's sensual form upon his couch, "I think I'll be going."

Turning to leave, you crashed nose first into Tom's hard chest with a muffled grunt of surprise. His hands crept around your waist in a lazy fashion, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until his warm palms found the icy chill of your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, much to your own chagrin.

He pouted, jutting his lower lip out at you tauntingly as he leaned close to brush his nose along the high point of your cheek. "You've only just got here, darling," he mused, "I missed you last night. You left me all alone."

It was really pathetic how easily he broke through your walls. Despite your tireless efforts to re-stack each brick he knocked down, the feeling of his soft lips ghosting along the supple skin of your cheeks had those same cinderblocks crumbling to dust. A gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek, a fleeting peck at the slope of your forehead, one slow trail along the angle of your jaw--you were putty in his hands when his lips finally found your own.

Even as his tongue traced the outline of your lips, you desperately tried to fight his hold on you. Grumbling into his mouth, "I'm sure you could have found company elsewhere--"

Tom bit down on your lower lip, hard, and pulled until it snapped back with a loud pop that made you whimper. Yet, his eyes were tender in a way you'd never seen before as he gazed down at you longingly, whispering, "I wanted you, though."

Yeah, you were fucked.

Breathing a little heavier, you gave into your more animalistic desires in spite of the jealousy and irritation that still boiled deep within your veins. A childish, prideful part of you boasted over his words; he'd wanted you! Not Melaina, not anyone else, just you. It was utterly ridiculous.

Tom's brown eyes were warm, inviting, and curious as he waited for you to make the next move. You could see the questions bouncing around behind them; would you leave? Would you stay? But, there was a familiar glimmer of mischief buried behind the thick honey gaze that had you waiting for the other foot to fall.

Taking your lack of movement as an answer, a desire to stay, Tom pressed another kiss to your lips. Long, slow, and mind-boggling--it felt like your soul left your body with the way he curled his plush lips into yours. Already you were heating up, your body buzzing and growing hotter with desire in each second that passed.

You clawed your fingers into the hem of his shirt, scratching your nails along the flesh of his lower abdomen in a futile attempt to ground yourself. It was a frantic plea to him to hold you there, to keep you from floating away as his kiss took you to higher places. He gave a gentle hiss into your mouth at the sting, but pushed harder into your face as his hands inched higher up your back to toy with the band of your bra.

Fingers gently swept the collar of your shirt down, exposing your neck as fuller, softer lips ghosted along the line of the fabric. Wait--lips? Jumping, you reeled back from Tom's face with widened eyes to find Melaina blinking back at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

"What are you--"

Tom popped the clasp of your bra with ease, looking down at you with darkened irises. "Is this okay?" he asked, glancing at Melaina who was waiting beside your twisted, intertwined bodies for approval.

Her fingers swirled slow, tingling circles on your hip, lip caught between pearly, white teeth as she watched you with enraptured intensity. Two minutes ago, the word no would have spilled from your lips without a moment of hesitation--but now? Now, as your eyes lingered on the swollen, bitten lower lip that called for you to taste it; as you trailed them lower to admire the perfectly soft curve on every inch of her body, it wasn't so clear.

There was a supple rise of her chest with every breathe, hardened nipples poking through the transparent fabric of her dress. Rounded breasts upon a gentle, sloping waist, wide hips that certainly gave way to a perfect handful of ass and thigh, all leading the eye down the length of her sculpted legs. Melaina was like a work of art, and every inch of her that you admired sent tingles through your body.

Glancing back at Tom, you nearly moaned out loud. Her eyes burned the side of your face, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Tom's stare into your very soul. It sucked the breathe out of you and left you feeling dizzy, your vision darkening until all you could see were the artful angles of his face.

You spoke hoarsely, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat, "Yes."

Tom's mouth parted against yours in an instant, his hot tongue slipping inside and making your eyes roll back as Melaina pressed her body against your side and latched onto your neck. Sucking, biting, rolling the soft muscle of her tongue all along each sharp nibble to soothe the tender flesh--it was an overload of sensation all at once. You didn't know where to put your hands as they both crept theirs all over your body.

It was impossible to decipher where one ended and the other began. Whose hand was that gripping your ass? Whose were peeling your bra straps down our arms under your sleeves? Who was slipping their thumbs along the waistband of your pants, tickling your hot, sensitive skin?

Moaning, you gasped, "Please!"

You weren't even sure what you were asking for, but Melaina quickly stepped aside to let Tom pull your shirt over your head as your bra fell to the floor at your feet. He admired your chest for a long moment, palms cupping the swell of your breasts as his thumbs rolled over the stiffened peaks of your nipples, earning a muffled groan from you. Licking his lips, he stepped back and waved the eagerly waiting woman forward.

As Melaina devoured your chest, you followed him with your gaze through heavy lidded eyes. He watched on with an indecipherable glint in his eyes, lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own. Those long lashes fluttered as he dragged his tongue slowly over the plump of his lower lip, nostrils flaring in a sharp inhale as if he were tasting you all over again.

Her lips were wrapped tightly around your left nipple when he finally disappeared behind you, a shiver wracking your body when his fingers caressed the arch of your spine in a fluttering touch. Chest pressed warmly to your bare back, he dipped low to mix his own marks with the ones she had left behind. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder, lulling to the side to expose the entirety of your throat to him in submission.

When had he removed his shirt? The bare skin of his torso was scorching on your back, matching the heat of his tongue dipping in your collarbone in time with a twirl of hers around your other nipple. Fingers, hands, lips, tongues everywhere; your body was reaching its boiling point.

"Come to bed with us?" Tom's husky whisper directly into the shell of your ear had you whining, arching your back until your behind rolled harshly into his crotch. His length ground into you roughly, a quiet groan escaping his lips at the stimulation, "Fuck, darling, you like this?"

Weakly, barely able to focus through all the pleasurable touches to your body, you whispered, "Yes, yes, sir. Please."

You should have known it wouldn't last. You should have anticipated the shift in Tom's attitude, revealing his true intentions to you as he lead you by the wrist into his bedroom to find a dining chair at the side of his bed. But, you blinked up at him dumbfounded as he held up a silk tie before your face with a devilish grin.

Melaina stretched out on the bed with a hand between her legs, knees propped open wide as she touched herself lazily and watched you closely. Glancing at the tie, then the chair, and then Tom's arrogant smirk, you mumbled, "What is that?"

He just chuckled throatily, grinning as he hummed, "Sit in the chair, darling." You blinked again, frozen in place, "Sit, now, or I promise you'll not like the outcome."

Instinctively, your knees crumbled until you fell into the chair with a frown. He snatched your wrists roughly, twisting them behind the back of the chair until the backs of your hands touched and you whined in protest, "That hurts, Tom."

He pulled further, a sharp ache burning through the muscles of your arms as they dug harshly into the back of the chair. "Watch it, (Y/N)." he growled.

"Sorry, sir." you muttered pitifully, eyes downcast to avoid the amused smile on Melaina's face, "What's going on?"

Tom didn't answer you for a long while, taking his time to tie your wrists with the tie until he was certain you couldn't break free. Testing the restraints, you pouted as the fabric didn't yield in any way to your tugs. He hummed under his breathe in appreciation, though, stroking a finger up the length of your arm as he rounded to face you again.

Melaina sat up and leaned into the arm he reached out toward her, your gut twisting bitterly at the sight of her purring under his touch like a cat. "I told you, darling, that stingy girls don't get to cum." he restated his words from earlier, and your body burned with embarrassment, "So, I'm going to teach you to share. You're gonna sit there and watch me, and you're going to deal with it like a big girl. Understood?"

"But I--"

"Do you understand?" Tom hissed, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare that dared you to challenge him further. You couldn't miss the way his fingers twitched, the familiar sting of his palm on your behind ghosting over the skin in anticipation of impact. He remained rooted in place, though, leaning into Melaina's body that was steadily wrapping further around him.

Her lips were on his chest, leaving a flurry of angry purple marks that made you want to scream like a child. "I understand, sir." you grumbled, slumping into the seat.

He smiled, "Good."

It was as if you disappeared from the room entirely in that instant. He turned to Melaina, completely absorbed in her presence as his hands slid around her waist to grab fistfuls of her ass. Groaning, he squeezed the flesh tighter until she whimpered. Your own body ignited in shame and jealousy, fingers clenching into fists that tugged uselessly against their bonds.

The sound of their lips smacking as they kissed, wet and sloppy sounds that echoed in your ears, made you want to whine. How had it come to this, when only moments ago they were kissing you like that? Was this the only reason you were here?

You watched on with an aching core, racing heart, and sweaty palms as the heat intensified between them. There was that chemistry you'd witnessed on set--their movements so in sync it seemed as if they were connected spiritually, a perfect flow of seamless give and take. It was almost painful to watch.

The jealousy that tore you to shreds was not from a desire to be the only woman in Tom's life, though a selfish part of you did secretly relish in the thought. It was an aching, grotesque and petty desire to know that you were the best. You were jealous of the way he found pleasure in someone else, when all you wanted was to know that you were unmatched. You were jealous to feel his touch on your body, and some part of you was growing desirous of hers as well.

It was a purely physical sort of envy; no feelings attached. Or, at least that's what you told yourself. In some sense there had to be a sort of emotional drive behind it, but it was easier to tell yourself it was stupid pride instead of murky, confusing feelings.

Your eyes clenched shut as you bit back a huff of frustration. Melaina's moans grew louder, until she shrieked, "Please, daddy, wanna feel you!"

There was a smack and a rustle, and when you opened your eyes Tom had shoved Melaina flat onto her stomach. The skin of her still rippling ass was reddened in a blazing hand print, his hand rubbing over the mark soothingly. "You wanna feel daddy's cock, princess?" he growled, "Think (Y/N) deserves to watch?"

"Yes, daddy," Melaina murmured, "want her to watch. Want her to see how good I make you feel."

The green eyed monster in your head was stomping circles through your brain, screeching over the cruelty of the situation. Yet, you kept your lips pursed shut as you glared back at Tom with just as much ferocity. He wasn't going to see you break; you'd come out of this on top, you were sure of it. You weren't going to let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on it's ugly, rearing head with her words.

You scoffed, and he glared at you with a sort of intensity that made your legs quiver, but you faced his scowl head on with a ferocity of your own to match. You wouldn't let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on its ugly, rearing head with those words; if he wanted to play, then you were going to play just as hard.

Or, maybe you were just emboldened by the fact that he hadn't called her darling again. Either way, you stared him in the eye until he looked away from you with a clenched jaw and twitching hand. Your first, and only, victory of the night.

It was torture. He moaned as he pushed into her, eyes clenching shut and hands squeezing at her flesh desperately when he bottomed out with his hips buried into her bottom. Yet, you couldn't decide which method of suffering was worse; to keep your eyes opened or closed.

Open, you had to watch his face contort with pleasure and the way he interacted with her eager, willing body. Closed, you had to listen to the sounds they made and feel the way your body reacted in accordance. You were dripping onto the seat, angry tears pooling in your eyes, and your arms were going numb from their restrained position.

"Eyes open, darling." Tom ordered, and you bit back the curse that bubbled to your lips. He watched you with hooded eyes until you met his gaze, immediately blocking you out again to focus on the messy, fucked out woman on his bed. She was wailing, and you were trying your best not to join in the chorus.

He was going an an unrelenting pace, each brutish thrust of his hips eliciting a strangled cry from Melaina. She was clawing at the sheets, incrementally crawling away from him until he pulled her back with a forceful tug of her hips. "Daddy, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned, breathless.

You squirmed in your seat, bottom sliding slickly over the wooden surface from how much you'd pooled into it. "Come on, princess. Cum f'me." he urged, voice strained as he rocked his hips faster into her. The sound of skin against skin mixed with the damp sounds from his force into her slick echoed loudly through the room, but it was unparalleled to the unrestrained scream the tore from her throat.

Watching with wide eyes and strained, clenched thighs, you gasped as Melaina arched into the bed wildly. Her actions were so over the top you'd have assumed they were theatrics, if it weren't for the way you could see her physically quivering with full body shivers. Fuck, why couldn't that have been you?

Tom pulled out of her roughly, turning on you and clambering off of his bed to lean over you. His hands wrapped around the arms of the chair tightly, the muscle of his arms rippling as he gripped it so tight the wood creaked. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" he demanded, nose to nose with you.

Nodding desperately, you gasped, "Yes, sir."

He disappeared from view, Melaina still crumpled into the bed and spent as she breathed heavily. When his fingers brushed your wrists, untying them slowly, you nearly wept with relief. Finally, he was going to touch you.

Pulling you up from the chair, Tom gripped your chin firmly as his thumb tugged at your bottom lip. "Want me to touch you, darling?" You nodded, begging him with your eyes and whining when he chuckled, "You have to earn it."

He sat back on the bed, scooting until his back was propped against the headboard with his legs spread wide. Patting the space between them, he beckoned you forward until you were perched between his knees on your own. You yelped as Melaina crept up behind you, hands sneaking up the skin of your back until they rested lightly on your shoulders, but you relaxed into her touch as she pressed a feather light kiss to your neck.

As she nipped at the skin, blossoming a new mark amidst all the ones she'd left before, Tom grinned deviously. "Let's make a deal, darling," he breathed, "if you can stop yourself from cumming all over her tongue, I'll let you come on my cock."

You squeaked as her fingers dipped down the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she drew nearer to where you were aching for any sort of touch. Deep down you knew how hard it would be not to finish at any sort of stimulation due to how worked up and ravenously needy you were, but if there was a chance to get Tom where you wanted him then you were going to take it. So, you nodded, "Please."

Melaina pushed you forward until you were bent over, propped up on your knees and elbows. Tom's length was straining against his thigh, and he flexed as your slightly frantic breathing blew across the sensitive skin. He reached out a hand to caress your cheek before winding it to the back of your head, pulling you closer until you wrapped your lips around the tip.

You groaned in sync with him as you felt her blow a cool breeze on your clit, your legs nearly buckling as she forced them apart with her hands. Stars were bursting behind your eyes the very moment she drew a line through your folds with her tongue, but Tom's shove against your head kept you grounded. Focusing, you pushed forward until your nose was buried in his pelvis and he moaned loudly.

Her taste was still all over him. Pulling back until you only held his tip in your mouth again, you swirled your tongue around the head and parted your lips to let your spit soak down his length entirely. You looked up and blinked at him coyly, flattening your tongue under his tip and sucking hard until he clenched his eyes shut and raked his nails into your scalp roughly.

Going down again, you gagged around him and tears sprung to your eyes when he held you there. He was choking you, but you weren't thinking about air--all you could think about was how hard it was not to reflexively clamp down each time Melaina tweaked your clit just right, sending spasms through your entire body.

You were fighting hard to keep from going overboard, your stomach twisted up in knots so tight you felt compressed. Explosive, even. He was moaning above you, dragging your head up and down his length slowly, and there were shockwaves of vibrations in your core as Melaina hummed along with him.

Finally, as you took all of him again and squeezed his thigh with your nails digging in, Tom hissed and pulled you off of him. "On your back, now." he commanded, and Melaina jumped back just in time for you to hastily slide into position. "Fuck, need you so bad, darling."

His hands were hot as they slid up your thighs, spreading your legs apart until he could slip between them and crawl over your body. "Needed you last night, lovie, but you decided to ignore me like a brat." he growled, and you flinched as he dropped to his elbows over you suddenly, "Don't even deserve to feel me, you know that?"

"Please," you whined, "I'm sorry I ignored you, I'll never do it again."

Tom dragged his tip roughly through your folds, scowling at you when you bucked your hips into him, "Do that again and you'll go back in the chair."

You froze, and he hummed in approval before continuing his teasing. Up and down, up and down, up and down, he dragged himself over your entrance and clit until you were shaking with need. Each slow rock of his length through your folds was adding fuel to the fire raging within you, your eyes threatening to roll back from the surface level stimulation alone.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally eased into you slowly. You moaned breathlessly, clenching around him and fisting the sheets in a plea for him to just fuck you already. "Fucking love your cunt, darling," he groaned, eyes falling shut in bliss, "perfect little pussy, all for me. This all mine, lovie?"

"Yes, sir." you groaned, arching off the bed as he pushed deeper against you, "All yours."

He pulled back, dragging slowly against your walls until he slipped out of you entirely and left you feeling empty. But then he forced his way back in roughly, jolting you backward on the bed under the force of his thrust. Your lips opened in a silent yell, hands flying up to claw at his back desperately.

Tom's face dropped into your shoulder, mouthing open kisses into the skin that burned like fire. He picked up his pace with a steady, deep roll of his hips against yours that made you shiver all over. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trapping him against you as you gripped his shoulders heavily.

Your eyes were clenched shut in pleasure as you felt him continue to push roughly against that spot deep inside, sending sparks through out your entire body. The coil in your belly had already been strung so tightly you'd feared you'd burst at the first moment of contact, but you were doing your best to fight it off. You wanted this moment, this feeling of him filling you to the brim, to last forever.

But, Tom shuddered above you and moaned into your ear, "Shit, 'm not gonna last, darling."

He pushed deeper into you with his next thrust, grinding your hips into the mattress as he put his weight behind it. You yelped and your hands left his back to find his face, pulling his lips down to yours in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy, all tongue and clashing teeth, but it matched the desperate, animalistic rhythm of his hips perfectly.

That coil inside you was sparking now, fizzling with pent up energy just begging to burst. "Please, please, please, let me cum, Tom." you begged, and he groaned as you said his name, "Please, Tommy!"

With a sharp snap of his hips, Tom pushed off the bed on one elbow and reached his hand down to the apex of your thighs. His fingers met your clit harshly, swirling rapid circles around your swollen bundle as he stared down at you like a starved man. "Say my name again, darling."

"Tom!"

His fingers moved faster, harder, deeper in time with his thrusts that pushed you to heights you'd never felt from him. His eyes were clenched shut and his lips pulled back in a grimace, jaw clenching as his curls slid all over his forehead in a sweaty mess. He looked beautiful like that--all messy and fucked out, desperate to reach that high that you were pushing him toward.

Your legs were shaking wildly, and your stomach was burning as your muscles began to contract. It was the buildup to the explosive release, and you cried out, "Gonna cum, Tommy, yes! You feel so--oh, fuck!"

Wailing, you clamped your legs around his waist and squeezed your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. The coil snapped and you shrieked, his tip ramming into your g-spot over and over as he fucked you through your high. It felt like you couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't anything anymore. All you could do was feel him inside you, pushing through your pulsing walls as his fingers continued to rub your clit like a madman.

"Fucking--fuck!" he gritted, hips faltering, "Love it when you say my name, (Y/N). Sounds so perfect coming from your pretty lips."

You were desperate to get him there, feeling the way he was shuddering with each thrust as his body protested the exertion. "Tom, please," you begged, feeling the coil in your belly tightening up again, "cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up, Tommy."

He slammed into you harder than he had all night, making your pelvis ache but you saw white. The world faded away as you burst into the crescendo again, your throat burning as you cried out loudly. Just when you were about to tap out and push him away because it was all too much, he rolled into you deeply and collapsed onto your chest.

So high in your own climax, you barely felt his cock pulsing against your walls as you milked him of every last drop. It was the warmth, though, that brought you back down to earth. The deep, warmth that filled you up had you sighing and sucking in air desperately, blinking up at the ceiling as Tom breathed heavily into your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for awhile, fighting to catch your breathe as your hearts raced against each other's chests. It wasn't until your vision finally cleared and you could breathe a little more freely, though, that a thought popped into your head, "Where did Melaina go?"

Tom laughed, his chest rumbling against yours as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder with a tender kiss to the sweaty skin. "Mm, don't know. She probably left."

"Oh," you muttered, "I didn't notice."

You hoped he didn't notice how you smiled as he hummed back, "Neither did I, darling."

Curled up in Tom's bed, you shivered as his fingers traced lazy shapes into the bare skin of your thigh that was draped over his own. On his night stand sat two abandoned cups of tea, growing colder by the minute, but neither one of you was in any hurry to reach for them. You were content to just lay there in his embrace, soaking up his warmth.

This was what you'd grown to love the most over the past few months of hooking up with Tom. The sex was great, the orgasms mind blowing, but the time spent just enjoying each other's company afterwards was your favorite part. It felt nice to just be close to him, to feel connected to him in a more domestic sense.

"You know there's nothing to be jealous of, yeah?" he asked, suddenly, and you craned your neck back to look at him curiously. His cheeks were reddened slightly as he peered down at you with tender, timid eyes.

Sheepishly, you shrugged, "It's ridiculous, I know."

He frowned slightly, but the crease between his brows melted as you blinked up at him with wide eyes. "Nothing you feel is ridiculous, (Y/N)," he stated, "and it's okay to be jealous. You think I never felt shitty seeing you with any of the other guys you filmed with?"

The flush on his face deepened at his confession, but you grinned. He felt it too? "Really?" you asked, trying your best to keep from giving him total puppy dog eyes.

"Really." he repeated you, snorting when you grinned wider, "And, you don't need to be jealous of anyone. You're the only one who ends up right here in my bed, like this. Only one I want to be here, darling."

You buried your face into his chest with a flustered giggle, and he chuckled as his arms wrapped around you a little tighter. In a desperate need to keep things from getting too serious, still raw over everything you'd felt the past couple of days, you teased, "Mm, I'm only here for the tea--Tom!"

He dug his fingers into your ribs, fighting through your squeals and slaps as you tried to escape him. Easily, though, he got the upper hand and rolled until you were pinned beneath him. With twinkling eyes, a mixture of emotions you couldn't read, he taunted, "Admit it, (Y/N), you're in love with me."

In love with Tom? Your mind went blank as you stared up at him, but he just grinned down at you. There was a little flutter in your belly, and his eyes sparkled a brighter at your shiver. He knew. He knew the truth.

"Nah, it's definitely the tea--"

"Why, I oughta!"

[jademakean]

Clouded Sea

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warnings: Death, Thalassophobia.

Not edited

･*:༅｡.

It had been a while since your brother’s disappearance. You don't recollect how you reacted to the newfound information, in the beginning, your overwhelmed mind blocking out the details. What you do remember is how you spent days in your room mourning until you snapped out of your trance.

Just because they didn't find the boat doesn't mean they aren't alive.

It's John B, he knows how to get out of difficult situations.

He's okay

Of course, your slight change in attitude received attention from unwanted locals, you seemed more eager to leave the house, you didn't cry anytime you came back to the Routledge house, there weren't dark circles under your eyes anymore and it wasn't too long before they understood what you began speculating.

Delusion ran in the family

The pogues were the ones to understood your situation the quickest. On the rare location, John Bs name was mentioned, you spoke of him as though he were still alive. Barely phased by the fact that your brother wasn't around anymore. They also noticed how you'd run off right home to check the mail after hanging out with them.

At that point they began to pity you, believing that you were in denial and becoming obsessed-which you were- they discussed it amongst themselves trying to finds ways to bring you back to reality.

JJ was a different story, he became more distant and quiet. Mostly hanging at his house with his god-awful father. Doing his best at ignoring you because you'd just remind him of his second greatest loss.

As time went on you got some clarity on your surroundings. JJ behavior mostly.

You weren't sure how to approach him at first, he must be having his own battles that didn't need to be brought up, maybe he'd shut you out even more if you tried to ask him how he felt. So you decided to be casual.

You remembered how you had asked him to teach you how to surf before John Bs disappearance. You never learned how  because of your fear of the ocean, and it had gotten worse due to this past event. 

Sweat began to gather on your forehead due to the blazing sun up above. You readjusted you loose shirt, hiding your plain bathing suit. You knocked on the metal door, nervously waiting for who you were looking for and as you were about to knock a second time, a very tired JJ appeared with squinted eyes as the light hit his face.

The air left your lungs momentarily. You hadn't seen his face in a long while but he was here now, in front of you.

You snapped put of it when he whispered your name "What are you doing here?"

Taking a deep inhale, you smiled charmingly. “I came over to get you. You promised me you'd teach me how to surf last year, remember?” It was your fault for holding the plans back for so long, the thought of swimming above water clouded with sand was terrifying to you.

You walked past him, grabbing the beach towel on the floor and some sunscreen. “Right now?”

You answered with a smile “Of course! Better sooner than later. I'm tired of holding our plans off, we should just get it done and over with.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You stopped rummaging through the towels. It was easy to tell my the sound of his voice that he was still struggling immensely, it was also laced with confusion on how you aren't in the state of mind he is now.

“There are barely any waves today. I checked and there aren't many people either, it might be because it's a Wednesday.” You changed the attention the topic was directed to smoothly

“Y/n..”

You interrupted him by grabbing his hand, leading him to where his surfboard was abandoned for these past weeks. “Lets go, the sun is about to set.”

As you previously mentioned moments before, the sea was still. The sun warmed up everything beneath it, almost making you excited to get in the chill water.

Once you reached the shore line JJ began making little mountain of sand beside you “What are you doing?”

“You have to practice on sand before trying the real thing." He sighed.

“Actually-” you caught his eyes “-I was thinking that maybe you could help me get more comfortable with being in the water? I feel like that's the overall most basic step, you know?” You laughed lightly trying to cover up the anxiety spiralling in your head.

And thats what happened for the next few days. You started off small, allowing the water to reach your knees then moved on to mid thigh, and that alone lasted about 20 minutes. However, you didn't mind. You were able to talk to JJ more, which was hard.

It seemed like there was something on his mind that was one fake smile away from being revealed.

You both began meeting by the beach at 4:P.M, you'd stay for a few hours before he'd start help u balance yourself on the pile of sand with his surfboard.

It was all going well. You were always a quick learner when you got excited over something. JJ on the other hand seemed to become slightly closed off, like the only thing set on his mind was to teach you surf and nothing more. Limeted physical contact, no unessesary comments, no jokes.

Oh, how much you missed jokes. You hadn't heard one from him since your brother's disappearance. Your hopes of peeping one from him was slowly dimming away.

"Alrighty! I think I'm ready to sit on the board, maybe go farther out this time. A two in one." You smiled. While pulling down your shorts you decided to keep your shirt on. You excitedly took JJ's hand before guiding him to shore.

The water was cold, as usual, but you didn't feel as hesitant to enter it like before. It was an improvement that you were glad to notice.

Since you had a later shift at work it was already 7:50 P.M and the sun was starting to set, making the sky was a beautiful mixture of gold and blue.

You snapped out of your trance once you felt JJ's hands on your waist.

You were suddenly flustered by his action, and even though he was just helping you get on the board, he hadn't been very physical with you those past days. His a action was simply unexpected.

"Thank you." You said sitting up straight.

There was complete silence between the both of you. The only sounds heard was the waves clashing together gracefully, peoples distant voices and seagulls flying over their heads. This was the normal routine between the two of you, no talking, just the patiently waiting for your fear to disintegrate into ashes until you're able to swim without a care in the world, just like all the Pogues.

You missed them, truly.

There weren't anymore meatups at the Chateau or watching them surfing from your spot in the sand, sunbathing while drinking fresh juice.

"Do ya want to make plans with the gang? We could eat dinner at the diner, and maybe sleepover my hous-"

"What is wrong with you."

JJ interrupted you with a harsh tone, causing your smile to falter. "What do you mean?" You asked, calmly adjusting your body so you could sit with both of your legs on one side of the board.

"You know exactly what I mean." He looked into your eyes this time. And it's now that you have no choice but to look at his face that you notice the dark undereyes, dry lips and messy hair.

He wasn't taking proper care of himself, he probably couldn't if he tried. It was obvious your brother's disappearance took a toll on him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" You asked, slightly afraid of his answer.

"How are you so okay with everything. I remember when you were locked in your room for weeks on end, and one day you just- came out. I didn't even see you and from what I heard it seemed impossible to be true. But then you just showed up at my door with no warning, with this big smile on your face and- I don't understand. He's your brother." His tone became more exasperated as he let out all the words that had been running through his mind.

"JJ, I'm not gonna stay sad all summer just because John be isn't here. I'm sure he wants me to do what makes me happy and keep taking care of myself. Plus, he's-"

"Stop talking about him as if he's alive!" JJ interrupted once again "He's dead, don't you understand? He's not coming back, or gonna send you some letter. He's dead."

His harsh tone made you feel as though he was purposely trying to hurt you. The worst part is that that's not the case. He's trying to make you see what he sees. "He's not dead."

There was a slight pause, he looked at you as if you were crazy.

"He's not. There's no body, so until I see one he's not dead. He's smart. He's got Sarah, they got away from the police and are probably in some island enjoying themselves."

"You've gotten comeplety insane! Do you hear yourself? You sound exactly like him when your dad disappeared, and you know damn well how that went."

His hurtful words ignited anxiety within your heart, making it feel heavy and sensitive. You were starting to feel too much and you didn't know how to stop it.

"I know he's alive! You'll see. He's gonna send some sort of signal, ofcourse we couldn't just show up out of nowhere when the police is looking for him. Since when does a disappearance automatically mean they died?"

JJ's eyes darkened, he was done with this game. He had to witness JJ obsess over his dad's disappearance only for him to be hit with utter disappointmen, he wasn't gonna allow the same to happen to you. "Face it. Your brother's dead, there's nothing you can do to change that."

His words hit you like a wave, his harshness making the agonizing emotion worse than ever thought possible.

It was so hard to keep hoping. It was exhausting.

"I don't wanna be alone"

Your words came out quiet and shaky. Once JJ looked back at you he took notice of the fact that your eyes were casted down, glossy and relaxed to the point where it seemed as though there was no emotion behind them.

The thought of not being able to hug your brother again- not having anymore long converstation about your future or simply seeing him from afar as he tried to outsurf JJ- was a thought that you refused to accept. However, you had begun douphting yourself and JJ finally saw through that crack.

His tense shoulders dropped, guilt sinking in knowing you were hiding the way you truly felt deep down.

"He's not dead, okay?"

JJ gazed at your expression swallowing the shame building up your throat before nodding his head. “You're right, he's not dead.”

He slowly approached you and got between your legs, wrapping his arms around you. “He's not dead.” You collapsed against him, resting your cheek against his collarbone.

Teardrops fell onto his golden skin, the feeling resulted in a shiver, running through his body as he hugged you tighter.

John Bs disappearance was harsh on everyone who truly knew him, and some learned how to hide it better than others. All that everyone slowly began understanding is that you were all one family and should watch out for each other.

“Do you wanna go grab a bite?”

You could almost laugh at his poor attempt to be casual, but you settled with a smile, pulling away from him while wiping your own tears with your arm.

JJ ran his thumb underneath your eye before kissing your forehead. “Come on, we can listen to Bob Marley on the way there if you want.” He snickered as he guided your surfboard towards the beachfront. You sighed, liking the feeling of the water moving underneath you as he pulled you to shore, observing the fish beneath you.

The sun had already set and all that was leftover of the sky was a pinkish-blue.

You could finally feel the sand beneath your feet. You watched as JJ walked off, grabbing his bag and shirt.

“Here.” He tossed over his top and your flip-flops as he slid in his. “Arent, you gonna be cold?” You asked knowing the shit that laid in your hands was the only one he had.

“What, would you prefer to walk around in your soaking wet shirt? Because I think that'd do more damage to your health than me going shirtless.” He teased with a raised brow.

You paused for a second allowing the realization that you are in fact soaking wet to sink in “Yeah you're right. Suffer.” Your approving sentence got a laugh from him.

You gaped at him. This was the first time you heard him laugh ever since go started talking to him again.

A smile made its way to your lips “Alright, I'm ready.” You stated after pulling a new shirt over your body. “My tapes are in the outside pocket.”

He pulled out the Bob Marley cassette from the bag before sharing an earbud with you. You accepted, untying your dry hair and finally setting it free.

The walk was peaceful, a comfortable silence falling over the both of you. The smell of pinewood from the trees was calming as you walked past the forestry area of the island.

You and JJ would always use this path after a beach day with the pogues. You would separate yourselves from the group so you could discuss about his job, home life, aspirations. Those were all things he never felt very safe discussing about with anyone but you. John B knew, but they didn't have the sort of relationship where they could switch to sensitive topics easily.

JJ liked how listened. You didn't look at him while he talked about such things, knowing he would feel intimidated by your gaze. The way your body slightly turned to him to show that you were paying attention. Most of all how you communicated with him first. When discussing about his father, you would ask if he needed a listener, a solution, or comfort.

Most of the time he would ask for you to simply allow him to rant, however, there were many times where he would ask for you to comfort him, just so he could receive the soothing sensation of embracing you tightly.

During every hug you shared, we're mere seconds of pure relief, relief that there was someone out there who knows about every aspect of his life and is yet to view him as weak.

“I’m really glad you got me put of the house. I hadn't surfed ever since he disappeared.”

It was as if the path you were on gave him the courage to speak with confidence. “And I'm sorry I was so harsh on you. I didn't mean to. I've just been feeling so much and I got so frustrated when you didn't seem as miserable as I am, I should've never been so insensitive.”

You knew he had a hard time apologizing to people, it made him feel vulnerable and he wants to have the upper hand in every situation. He likes being in control to compensate for the how much of it he lacks at home.

You looked over at him before smiling. “I love you too, JJ.” You ruffled his hair playfully before hugging his side as you walked.

JJ returned your smile, grateful for the fact that you resorted to a light-hearted response instead of a heavy one.

Time passed quickly and before you knew if you had arrived at the Chateau. JJ took a deep breath, his nerves increasing. He hadn't seen any of them, just as he hadn't seen you during those long weeks. How would they react seeing him there, let alone seeing the both of you together with smiles on your faces.

You squeezed his hand gently. An encouraging gesture to give him some strength.

You led him inside, the yellowish lights contrasted the night sky beautifully and as you both sat around the wooden table, you removed the earbud from your ear, which prompted him to follow your actions.

“JJ?” You heard Kie from behind you. Once you turned to face her she looked as though a miracle just occurred before her eyes.

Before your brain could acknowledge she dropped her notepad and hugged you both with the strength of an amazonian. “I missed you guys.” she mumbled into your hair.

As you were about to respond you felt more weight on you “We missed you guys.”

You giggled, now aware that it was Pope who was crushing you.

It had been so long since you had all shared such a heartfelt embrace, and you weren't going to let each other go for a while. You were all family. No matter how far you are or how long you don't speak to each other. This is what a true family was, and soon enough you were all going to be together again, as one.

“We missed you too.”

[bangtancentricsblog]

》 Unbeknownst to Jungkook, there is a rise in popularity for a particular human holiday, one of which leaves him blindsided and scrambling to find the absolute perfect gift for his one and only. They say food is the quickest way to a man’s heart but no one ever said it didn't work on women.

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, established relationship, a dash of angst, and a pinch of smut

❒ alternative universe: fantasy, college/university, werewolf, witch,

❒ rating: 18+

❒ word count: 12.4 k+

warnings/disclosures: werewolf Jungkook, witch MC, kinda tsundere mc, cat shifters Yoongi and Yoonji, Fairy Jimin, Siren Taehyung, MC is on the bigger side!, Merman Seokjin, Elf Hoseok, Vampire Namjoon, friendly fondling from yoonji, heteroflexible/bicurious yoonji, boob talk, mc is not good at cooking, misunderstanding on jungkook’s part, baking mishaps, frazzled jungkook, not so helpful/helpful yoongi, half-hearted frenemies Jungkook and Yoonji, Jungkook cries a little, yoonji jumping to conclusion, sense8 references, harry potter references, killing eve reference, way too many allusions to sex, jungkook isn't a good at baking, always reliable Seokjinnie, chubby POC Bunny shifter OC, whiney JK and MC, ‘rich’ jungkook, not edited i tried to i really did, taste testers Jimin and Taehyung, SMUT is at the end, bad smut at the end, food play (mostly them getting turned on by feeding each other), fingering (ew why do we call it that? Finger blast sounds better lmao), cock warming-ish, tiny hints of a size kink, grinding, soft fuck, soft spanking, sappy endings

❀ this is part of the bangtan pastries valentine collab hosted by the lovely @suhdays, who also made my lovely banner 💖 make sure to check out the other fics as well, they’re amazing as are the other authors and please excuse any incoherent inconsistencies or misspelling as this fic was written over a many days and long hours ❀

main ml • AO3

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

*

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

*

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

*

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

*

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

*

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

*

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

*

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

*

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

*

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

*

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

*

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

*

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

*

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his. 

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips. 

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long. 

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you. 

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug. 

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat. 

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers. 

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders. 

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening. 

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer. 

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight. 

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom. 

*

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly. 

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence. 

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug. 

“So should we move on?” he asks, watching you nod excitedly, he’s equally excited to see what the future holds. It may have taken some time and more than ten ounces of semi sweet chocolate but eventually Jungkook learned that you would be the sweetest thing in his life.