#somehow managed to pass every course so far against all odds

[lightprince]

it really sucks that i stopped writing down my life because i stopped logging into the account where i happened to do that

a year of my life is now undocumented

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Chapter 20

Chapter 20 | Ao3

Bestie beta crew big thanks to @popjunkie42 and @witch-and-her-witcher. I love you both!

[TW for a tiny bit of gore, not super descriptive. NSFW! :)

Here, have a small slice of violent joy! As a treat!]

Rhys and Feyre slept the day away. 

They hadn’t intended to, but no one had called either of them away, and they had both been so exhausted, the fatigue so bone-deep, that they’d collapsed into a pile under the sheets and only roused again after the shuffling footsteps in the hall became too loud to ignore. 

They dutifully rose from the bed, dressing in their court finery, winnowing quietly down to the dungeons once more before dragging themselves to dinner. They found it well-lit, but Calla’s cell was still abandoned. Lucien hadn’t seen her when Rhys had checked in with him earlier. Of course, Tamlin might have taken her somewhere, but deep in her marrow, Feyre knew that wasn’t the case. The worry ate at her, filling her with trepidation that set every one of her nerve endings on edge. Where else could she be? 

Dinner itself was a strange affair, and Amarantha was, unnervingly, filled with what seemed like a sort of twisted glee, despite having lost the second trial. It made Feyre uneasy, and she could feel that Rhys’s reaction wasn’t far off from her own. Notably, though, Tamlin was missing from court. Feyre’s heart raced at the discovery, thinking perhaps he was somehow with Calla. 

Would Amarantha be so filled with manic glee if that was the case? Had they managed to flee under the guise of him skipping court for another reason? 

She tried not to let the hope flower in her chest as she picked her way around the plate until they were allowed to depart the table. She pushed the thoughts from her mind entirely, demanding herself focus only on the here and now. One way or another, she would find out what had occurred. The ballroom shifted as always, the scenery changing around them and melting away into the backdrop of nightly revelry, the magic of it dull and underwhelming to her now. 

Rhys led her to their seat, the night getting off to a wild start around them. Something about the morning’s task sending the fae into a sort of frenzy around her. The crowd was packed, everyone writhing in her path, dancing with bodies close and moving together as they cleared a small but defined path for The Lord of Nightmares and his toy. So, it was unusual when the guard coming from the opposite direction rammed into her, knocking her back and sending the breath from her lungs. She felt the tug of the chain at her neck as it pulled through Rhys’s hand and she fell to the floor. 

“ Whore ,” the guard’s hideous, gnarled mouth spit at her as he walked by. It was quiet enough that only she could hear it, only she could know the intent of him slamming her to the ground to degrade her. 

Quiet enough so that no one in the room could hear it, save her. And Rhys. 

The movement was so quick that Feyre’s brain refused to register it. She was warm, covered in a fine heat that hadn’t been there before. It was as though everything and nothing at all had happened at exactly the same moment, and her human mind couldn’t comprehend the totality of it. She was still sitting on the ground where she’d fallen, her hands still pressed to the marble floor to catch herself. When her eyes darted up, she could see Rhys staring down at her, some strange sort of expression on his face as he beheld her. 

The guard was gone, and the air was fuzzy, an odd mist or fog having seemed to have rolled in over the floor. The crowd was silent. 

“Rhysand!” The trilling voice grated against Feyre’s ears as it rolled over the crowd. “Care to explain why you’ve just destroyed one of my guards?”

It registered with Feyre, then, what had happened. 

The blur hanging in the air wasn’t a fog at all, but what was left of the guard. The warmth on her skin was what remained of him. 

“I heard his thoughts as he passed. He was planning to hold an audience with each High Lord and sell your secrets and his allegiance to the highest bidder.” Even from the ground, Feyre could see the ripple and shock through the crowd as murmurs rose up around her. “I decided to take care of it for you.” 

But that hadn’t been it at all. Rhys had heard him call her a whore and knock her down, and he had shredded the very fabric of the guard’s existence without another thought. Had simply made him cease to be. 

“Fine. Could you, perhaps, do it a bit less in the middle of things next time.” Her voice was bored, droll, uninterested, and as soon as she snapped her fingers, the crowd was parting and lesser fae were sweeping in to clean it all up as though it had never happened at all. 

“Of course, my queen,” he demurred, all but purred, as he reached down to pull Feyre harshly to her feet, his hands circling her waist to rip her up to standing. She was startled by the rush of heat in her stomach at the gesture. 

“You look disgusting, Rhysand. You’re dismissed from court. Go clean yourself up.” The distaste in her voice sounded apparent, but when Feyre looked up, Amarantha had already moved on and was speaking to someone else. The crowd had moved on too, the music resuming and their undulating bodies falling right back into the same pattern as before. Feyre could hardly see any of it, though, her eyes settling wholly on Rhys’s face, speckled in dots of scarlet blood, now clear as day from this close. 

Blood he’d shed for her. 

The arousal bloomed in her before she could even recognize it fully, let alone tamp it down. She acted immediately, the glamour dropping over her scent to mask it, but the telltale flare of Rhys’s nostrils and the lift of a single brow told her that she hadn’t been quick enough. 

“Come.” He tugged at the collar. “You look positively gory. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

As they walked from the throne room, no eyes remained on them, the crowd so immune to the horror and gore that it was hardly a spectacle to them anymore, barely a blink in their day. Feyre could feel the wetness coating her thighs as she walked, and it wasn’t blood that waited there. This dark persona of his should, by all rights, terrify her or any sane person, but she found herself near rabid at the thought of what he’d done. 

What he’d done for her . 

I’m covered in blood. I should not be this turned on by it. 

She had simply allowed the thought to flit through her head, hadn’t pushed it at Rhys at all, but his resounding, dark laugh in her mind told her that he’d heard anyway. 

Is this how you rule in your own court?

Would you like that, Feyre, if it was?

The way his tongue flicked over the syllables in her name even in her mind– drawing it out slowly, luxuriously, as though it were a delicacy– had her spine straightening, a tingle running to the very tips of her toes. His fingers reached back and curled against the palm of her hand, the light back-and-forth strokes causing her to gasp. 

A just ruler is a good ruler, she teased. I’m just curious. 

In the Hewn City, yes. In Velaris, no. I am allowed to be myself in my home, but in The Court of Nightmares, I must uphold the same image I've cultivated here. 

I see. She tried to conjure the image of it then, his long, broad body draped across a throne, the power of fear alone keeping everyone in the room ready to do whatever he asked, all the while knowing that only she could bring him to his knees. The thought was thrilling. 

Would you like to see it?

Yes. 

The thought was out immediately, and he was in her mind just as quickly, a vision so close to what she’d imagined that she was struck momentarily speechless at it. Everything was the same, save for the throne, which was a magnificently large display of night and dominance, the darkness rushing off it in rivulets as though it sensed the power it held and balked at it. Rhys sat upon it, his legs spread casually as he did, his chin in one palm as he looked over his subjects in a court much like Amarantha’s, but this time his own. 

Do you treat them the way she does?

We do not punish people who have not earned it. 

She was taken by the state of him, so at ease in his element, but the look behind his eyes wasn’t sparkling with that energy of his that she so loved. He looked tired, truly bored, and not just for the mask he wore. 

Are you happy there?

No. There are very few places that have made me truly happy in quite a long time, darling. 

She hummed in understanding, and the vision changed then, before her eyes. 

It flickered once, twice, then settled, and when it did, the sight in front of her was new. Rhys no longer sat in the throne, but to the side of it on the arm, his legs crossed at the ankle. Despite the new position, he seemed more at ease here like this, a playful smirk on his face and that glint of mischief in his eyes. But that wasn’t all there was to the vision. 

There, sitting where he’d just been, was Feyre. She was draped in a gown of glimmering silver silk, not too terribly different from the slips she wore to nightly court. On her own arms, from elbows to her wrists, sat a delicate version of the swirling dark whorls of Illyrian tattoos covering Rhys, made to look like crawling, caressing vines. Atop her head there was a crown of stars, so delicate but demanding so much power that it appeared heavy upon her head. Her hand was in his, fingers interlocked, an immovable force of two joining together. The smile on her face in the image turned up coyly at the corners, as though she kept a secret, and when Rhys looked down at her sitting upon his throne, his smile was both wicked and filled with pride. 

She snapped back out of the vision with a whoosh of breath as their feet landed on the floor of their bedroom, having taken the entirety of the trip out into the hall. He stood there in front of her now, her hands in his as he looked down with that same wicked pride and open adoration from the vision he’d shown her. 

“When this is all over, come back to the Night Court with me. Be my High Lady and rule by my side.” It was a command, but she heard the question in it for what it was. 

All Feyre could think about was how she’d once feared the High Lord of Night she read about in her books. The irony of it all was so overwhelming that she bit back a laugh. 

“I should hope it’s not my request you’re laughing at.” His smile was wide, the way it spread across his face, untethered–not a smirk or a half-smile, but a true, genuine smile of joy that was meant just for her–set her heart alight. 

“Not at all,” she spoke through a smile of her own, the butterflies in her stomach no match for the writhing magic that seemed to be clanging around in her chest. 

“Will you, then? You were born to rule by my side, made to be my equal in all things.” The hope in his eyes shone brightly, the nerves peeking through despite certainly knowing her answer could only be one thing. 

“Of course I will.” The words were barely out when he pressed his lips to hers, the connection between them feeling like sparks until he pulled back, breathless. 

“I want to show you something.”

“Lead the way.” They were winnowing again a heartbeat later, taking off as he tugged her hand along as soon as they’d hit the ground. It was dark where they’d landed, no lights illuminating what appeared to be a hallway. It smelled of dust and disuse, the air stuffy and musty and quiet. 

Where are we? She whispered it into his mind just in case there were listening ears around, though this place seemed to have been left untouched for many years. 

The old rooms of the mountain, the ones that were sealed. He turned a corner abruptly, tugging her along still by the hand. They reached a doorway at the end of the hall, ornate carvings smoothed into the wood. Feyre could imagine that it had once been polished until it shined. He reached a hand out to the wrought-iron handle of it, swirling his fingers and pulling it as the lock clicked open. He jammed his shoulder against it once, the recently cracked paint seal on it still sticking slightly until it gave and opened.

Are these the ones you told me about where you could see the–

Feyre was stopped short as they walked through the door, the room wide open to an entire wall of open sky. 

“Stars.” The word left her lips on an exhale, the night sky above them vast and overwhelming and swirling with galaxies full of light. 

“I haven’t been able to concoct a reason that we could get away with sending Calla here during the day yet, but I’m working on it. Until then, I figured, perhaps, we could still use it to see the sky.” He led her to the open balcony, the ridge overlooking everything that was below and beyond. It felt like the entire world was laid out in front of them. The breeze whipped around her face, warm and smelling of mountain air, and she wondered when the last time she’d been free was. How long had they been there? 

Rhys’s finger brushed her cheek, and she realized she’d been crying. 

“Do you like it, Feyre?”

“It’s so lovely.” She took his warm hand back in hers. “Thank you. For this, for everything.” With a light pull on her arm, he tucked her into his front, her back to his warm chest and his arms circling her waist to bring her closer. It was a clear and quiet night, the sky so cloudless that they could see for miles. The sight of it truly did take her breath away. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined, looking at this same sky from her balcony in the human lands, that the stars could ever be so spectacular. 

“I’ve always loved the stars,” she said. Rhys didn’t respond right away, and when she tipped her head back to look at him, there was such adoration and awe in his eyes. 

“I love you, Feyre.” The words slipped from his mouth like they were meant for the open air. Four words, the ones she’d ached to hear, danced around in her mind. The final pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. 

It was good, it was right, it was everything. 

“I love you, too, Rhysand. So much more than I could ever possibly say.” And his mouth descended upon hers, the press of it so soft and tender it pulsed steadily through her heart like an amplification of its own beating. She could feel him there, always, a presence so warm and welcoming in her chest, coiled around the magic that had once felt so foreign and strange. The ties they’d formed between them– through touch, through trust, through magic, through love– thrummed like a living, breathing thing, the tug of it nearly exploding behind her ribs as he brought his hands to her jaw and she turned in his arms. 

The night was quiet and beautiful, and they were finally alone. He held her face and looked into her eyes, violet meeting baby blue and the stars within them sparkling. 

“The night we met, I was thinking about how pointless it all was. How useless my immortal existence had become. She’d sent me out on some errand, and I was growing reckless, so I fled into the Human Lands. Things had lost meaning for me entirely, but when I saw your party, something sparked in my chest.” She inhaled sharply, wondering if fate had moved his hand that night as it had moved hers.

“And when I saw you, even before I spoke to you, I knew that there was still a purpose for me – a reason. I swear the heavens opened when I beheld you across the room. You were my salvation, Feyre, and you haven’t stopped saving me since.” 

The words erupted through her chest, a maelstrom of emotion pouring from him into her and back, their love an echo chamber between their hearts, rushing across that bridge uniting them. 

“Even if it all goes wrong, even if we never see the light of day again, it will have all been worth it for this time with you, Rhysand.” His eyes fluttered shut, the declaration in the air between them something he’d needed to hear. “But we will make it out of here, Rhys. We will have that time owed to us, and I intend to spend every second of it with you.” 

With his hands still on her jaw, he pulled her in to kiss him, slowly, thoroughly, and it took her breath away. His tongue pressed at the seam of her lips, and she let him in without hesitation, the touches between them soft and exploratory. 

“Can I take off your shirt?” He sighed contentedly, nodding against her as she undid the silver clasp of his cloak, letting it flutter to the ground around them. Her fingers deftly undid the buttons of his tunic, smoothing light, exploring touches over his skin as she pushed the sleeves down his arms. She’d gotten in the habit of asking permission, and though he’d never said no, the action of it was important to him, important to her, important to healing. 

He pulled the sleeves of her dress down, shoulder by shoulder, pressing kisses into her collarbones and neck as he did. When he untied the belt, the dress fell to the ground entirely, baring her to him in the gentle night breeze. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered. 

“You say that every time,” she smiled coyly back at him. 

“And every time, I mean it.” 

“Show me your wings.” Her voice was a whisper, both question and command, but Rhys did not hesitate, his wondrous dark wings springing into existence behind him. They took the breath from her lungs, leaving her reeling in the wake of their strength and elegance. She ran her fingers along the vein near the talon visible in the moonlight, and Rhys visibly shuddered.

“If you do that, darling, this night is going to be very short.” He grinned down at her. “There will be other times to play.” 

“Yes, sir,” she murmured through a smile, laughing as his body reacted again. His mouth returned to her body with a soft snarl, the nip of his teeth at her neck causing her to sigh again as the stars beheld the meeting of their bodies. His chest was hot against her breasts, burning the skin and making her senseless with want. She let her fingers fall to the ties of his pants. 

“This okay?” 

He didn’t stop running his mouth across her skin to answer. Gods, yes. 

She tugged the ties undone, loosening them and reaching into his pants to find him impossibly hard and waiting, and he gasped against her when she took him into her hand. 

There is a bed inside I could clean the dust off of–

No. Here. Under the stars. 

The responding groan was enough to send Feyre spiraling as he grasped her with both hands cupping her ass and lifting her, yelping, as he settled them both to the ground. 

Anything you wish. It’s yours. 

You, Rhys. I only want you. 

The stones were cold against her back but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he pulled back, a handsome grin stretching across his face as he lifted her leg and pressed kiss after kiss to the inside of her ankle to her knee. There was something so erotic about the touch of his lips to each gained inch of her leg, and she squirmed beneath his gaze.

Please.

She was begging–she didn’t care. 

But he obliged her anyway, and she felt that feral grin against the skin of her inner thigh now, closer, closer, closer until his breath fanned over her sex. She wiggled below him, her hips moving until he pinned them to the ground with an arm. 

Impatient. 

She was ready to protest again, to plead for contact, but the words died on her lips as he touched his mouth to her in a single, well placed kiss. Galaxies exploded into light around her, the stars from above now dancing behind her eyes. The feel of it was too much, just enough, and her fingers in his hair felt right. He changed from broad licks to light kisses to circling precision that had her struggling to breathe, and when she crested, her body bowed from the stones beneath them, arching up towards the sky. 

She distantly felt him pull back to remove his pants, felt the warmth of him coming back over her as his hands landed next to her head. She opened her eyes when he tucked a stray hair behind her ear, the adoration in his eyes overwhelming. 

“I want you,” she whispered. 

“I’m yours,” he spoke back, the words tender and low and only for her as he notched himself at her entrance. Her legs wound around his hips as he pushed forward, their breath hitching in sync, their bodies and spirits and magic joining and singing as though this had been the inevitable outcome all along. As he sunk into her entirely, bottoming out, there was no air left between them, the enormity of their joining the only thing left. 

“You are my heart, Feyre. Forever.” He paused to press another kiss to her forehead, and the gesture was so tender that she felt tears burning behind her eyes. 

“Always,” she answered, settling into the feeling of fullness, of being complete. 

“Always,” he agreed, and then he began to move, and Feyre could swear the mountain moved with him. 

Their bodies shifted together as though it were a dance their hearts had learned long before this night, as though fate's strings had wound them together so tightly that they were left simply to ride along and enjoy. They were locked together with a thin sheen of sweat between them as he pulled and pushed within her, the gasps and sighs of them both the only sounds in the night sky, so close to the heavens Feyre swore she could feel some otherworldly pull. 

And when Feyre came again, every bit of her roared to life, a symphony of sound and feeling combusting within her and pulling back together around Rhys as though he was entwined within her very being. The love between them felt nearly tangible, physical, as she came down from the peak, her arms tight around his neck as he finished with a roar inside her, their breaths joining between them as he lowered his head to her chest. 

The air on the balcony rushed over their skin, cooling and drying the sweat as they came back into themselves. 

“Incredible.” It was the only thing she could think to say in the wake of this. Life changing. 

She felt wholly new, a different person than she’d ever been before. She paused. 

Had Rhys’s proclamation fulfilled her end of the bargain?

She’d been so caught up in the joy of finally being with him, she hadn’t considered. Her hand flew to her ear to feel, and she was heartbroken to find that, beneath the glamour, they were still rounded. Rhys breathed on her chest, exhaling quietly and contentedly and running soft fingers up and down her side as she tried to assess if she felt different. 

Other than her magic, roiling in her chest as it often did in Rhys’s presence, and an overwhelming satisfaction and outpouring of love at the sex they’d just shared, Feyre felt no different than she had before. 

Still human. 

Rhys tugged his cloak over them, turning them to the side, wings gone, and pulling her to his chest. 

“I love you more than there are stars in the sky, Feyre Archeron.” 

“I love you, too.” And she meant every word– she could feel that he did, too. So why hadn’t it changed anything?

He must love you, openly and without pretense, and be ready to sacrifice himself for you and you alone. 

Here in his arms, as his breathing slowed into sleep, she’d never felt more loved. 

He must love you, opening and without pretense, and be ready to sacrifice himself for you and you alone. 

But as she laid in his arms, the emotions warred within her. She was the happiest she’d ever been, and yet, somehow, something had gone wrong. How could she feel so strongly about both things at once? 

He must love you…

As she fell asleep, matching her breaths to those of the male she loved, the thought plagued her.

What had gone wrong?

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@cauldronblssd @buttercupcookies-blog @witch-and-her-witcher @yeonalie

[ddarker-dreams]

Debt Collection. Yan Childe x Reader [SMUT]

Tags: Mild dubcon ?, hate fucking, power bottoming, creampie, dirty talk, AFAB reader and degradation.  Word count: 1.6k. Note: this could be considered apart of contractual obligations universe or something on the side. i’m not sure where it’d officially line up in the stories tl, i just wanted to write some sin .

This is the only plausible option left.

That’s what you told yourself when you walked into his office, what you told you told yourself when removing your clothes and when you climbed into his lap. He called it special treatment. Whispering huskily into your ear that you should be grateful he likes you so much, that anyone else would be dead in your position. The Fatui are not known for their leniency with debts. People go missing, their neighbors too frightened to question what might’ve happened to them.

Childe seems happy enough to remind you of this like it might make you feel better somehow. It doesn’t. All you want is for the stress on your business to be alleviated, for things to go back to how they used to be before him, even if it is wishful thinking.

Whatever his feelings are for you, you don’t care in the slightest. You’re doing this to get it over with.

“Mm, just like that,” Childe hisses out through clenched teeth, fingernails digging harshly into either side of your waist. “Take all of me in.”

Everything is so warm. His fevered touches, your face, every inch of your bare body. You do as he tells you, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Sinking down onto his dick, you despise the lascivious noises it makes from how terribly wet he’s made you. Childe’s gaze never falters from your own, watching unblinkingly as you take in every inch of his throbbing length. His grip on you tightens, steadying your trembling body, harsh pants leaving both of you.

You’re grateful for his lack of comments, already humiliated enough as is. The silence doesn’t last when he fills you completely, your walls slowly adjusting to his length. Even with the proper preparation, his considerable size causes mild pain. Each deep breath you take does little to steady your nerves. The weight of Childe’s stare is impossible to ignore.

Why is he looking at you like this? Why can’t he just silently get off and let it be over with? The passion burning in his ocean blue eyes is unmistakable, the waves of it threatening to drown you.

“Good girl,” he exhales, affectionately running a hand through your tousled hair. You let him do as he pleases. The odd intimacy behind what’s meant to be a tumble in the dark isn’t lost on you. “Now, you remember what I wanted, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I do.” You confirm breathlessly, more blood rushing to your face upon remembering his vulgar instructions. Childe cups your face in his hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth when he moves away. This is the first time he’s kissed you, you realize, lips tingling. He does it with such ease, as if the two of you were lovers. The thought alone is enough to make bile rise in your throat.

“I’m afraid my memory is failing me. Be a dear and remind me of what you’re going to do.”

Of course, he’d make this as difficult as he can for you, you shouldn’t have expected anything different. The lascivious words discussed during your agreement reverberate in your head, and you push past your hesitations to repeat them. “I’m going… going to fuck myself on you.”

You feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you and shiver. He urges you on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And?”

“And… I’ll make you cum inside of me.”

“Get to it then.” Childe leans back into his chair, pleased so far with your submission. You take a deep breath, raising your hips up, wincing at how he stretches out your walls. When nothing but the tip of his dick remains inside you, you slowly sink onto him again, earning a low noise of approval. He really isn’t going to help you, is he? While full of him, you gyrate your hips, getting yourself more accustomed to his size. Childe’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, looking down at you through thick eyelashes.

“I didn’t expect for you to take your time like this,” he chuckles breathlessly, voice guttural and husky. “Not that I’m, ngh, complaining, I could watch this all day.”

You furrow your eyebrows, indignant at his comments. That’s the last thing you wanted...! You wanted to get this over with, to push past the embarrassment he’s inflicted on you. Spurred on by his comments, you raise and lower your hips onto his cock faster, the sensation of being stretched less painful than before. Childe lets out a breathy moan at your increased pace. No longer willing to hold himself back, he thrusts his hips up, throwing his head back at how good you feel around him. You can already tell the area he’s gripping will leave bruises. Hopefully, they can be covered up so questions don’t arise.

“Do you… do you know how much I think about you?” Childe breathes out, each word more strained than the last. The sound of skin on skin fills his office, a far cry from the normal business that goes on in here. Not that he cares in the slightest. You don’t want to know the answer, honestly, but he gives it to you regardless.

“Mm, I’ve thought about it even when we talk,” Childe confesses, head throwing back as he bucks himself up to meet your hips. “What you’d feel like… all the cute little noises you’d make when I made you pleasure yourself on my dick.”

Childe’s words strike a chord deep within you, your face getting even redder than before. You feel yourself getting closer to a release and feel frustrated by your lack of self-restraint. Childe’s chest rumbles with a low moan at how your walls tighten around him. He’s half wanting to fuck you against his desk, losing any shreds of patience that he’s somehow managed to hold on to. But knowing that you’re working oh so hard to make him cum is too tantalizing to pass up. He sees your reluctance fade into desire, no longer able to deny carnal pleasure. You’re enjoying this as much as he is but just don’t want to admit it.

He leans forward, wrapping his soft lips around your nipple and biting it gently, laughing breathlessly at the noise you let out. Childe’s hand that was on your hip goes to your chest, greedily playing with the soft mounds of flesh. He adores how you taste, how lovely and exposed you are before him now. All of the efforts that went into procuring you earned him such a ravishing sight.

Spurred on by his touches, you can no longer hold yourself back. Your movements get sloppier as you chase your own release, chest bouncing as you hold onto him for balance. Childe lets out a content noise at this. His strength is commendable, your hazy mind notices, as now he’s the one lifting you up and bringing you back down onto his cock. Strength all but gone, you lean forward, hoping to muffle your moans against his glistening neck. Your walls clench around him, a high pitch noise leaving your lips when you cum.

Childe wants nothing more than for you to remember this. For you to remember him. “That’s... right, [First]. Don’t ever forget that I’m the one who made you feel this good.”

You can barely register his words, mind far too foggy to think of anything. Curses start to leave his lips, from a foreign tongue which you assume to be his native language. His cock thrusts upwards inside you as Childe desperately seeks out his own release. Your energy is all but gone, leading you to feel silently grateful that he’s capable of getting himself off inside you without much help. A surprised yelp leaves your lips as he tugs your hair back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I want you to see this,” Childe manages to get out through gritted teeth. A throaty groan leaves him, hips stuttering. “Watch me as I cum inside you.” 

Childe releases himself inside you, thrusting up as far as he can before stilling himself. You feel his hot seed fill you up, Childe intent on dumping all of himself as far inside you as he can. He pulls you further down onto him, head thrown back and panting as your walls milk his throbbing cock. You wince at the foreign feeling, the implications of him cumming inside you nerve-wracking. Finally, he lifts his head, a slight flush on his own face. 

The room is silent, save for your panting. He keeps one hand on your already bruised hip and moves the other to cup your face. Childe’s eyes soften as you try your best to regain yourself. 

It feels hot, sticky, and humiliating. You look around, looking anywhere that isn’t at Childe. He lets out an airy laugh at your obvious embarrassment, much to your displeasure, and you shoot him a hopefully threatening look. It has the opposite effect as intended. Childe coos at the endearing sight, tracing his fingers over your body.

“That’s... all you wanted, right? Can I go now?” 

Childe shakes his head and you frown. “Mm... not yet, no. I’d say this only covers a portion of the debt, sweetheart.” 

You knit your eyebrows together, indignation flaring, and go to slap him against your better judgment. Childe snickers, catching your wrist with ease and places unexpectedly soft kisses against your knuckles.

“Relax, relax, I was kidding,” Childe winks and you roll your eyes. “Just know this won’t be the last time I fuck you.” 

“You’re... utterly shameless.” 

“Maybe I am, but what can I say? Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, I might just be addicted.” 

[seijorhi]

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him. 

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side. 

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case. 

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything. 

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. 

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that? 

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him. 

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face. 

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you. 

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you. 

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity. 

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you. 

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned. 

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place. 

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you. 

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye- 

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter. 

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace. 

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his. 

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up. 

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!” 

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms. 

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame. 

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him. 

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds. 

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him. 

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable. 

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace. 

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers. 

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust. 

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating. 

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him. 

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

[yumeyooa]

revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢  pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ genre: angst | slight fluff | band au | slight highschool au | post breakup au | exes au | r 15 | guitarist! jungkook | vocalist! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢  warning: profanity | heavy drinking | toxic relationships | messy break-ups | self depriciation | bullying | messy closure | this is just very much super angsty

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!! 

navigation | collection masterlist

Life couldn’t be any better. 

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays. 

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work. 

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold. 

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it. 

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life. 

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through. 

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end. 

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band. 

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you. 

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different. 

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely. 

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way. 

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

 The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time. 

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps. 

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all. 

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same. 

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!" 

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes. 

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers. 

He genuinely seemed to care. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…" 

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for. 

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you. 

But he would have never expected this. 

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook. 

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry. 

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room. 

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon." 

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her. 

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared. 

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise. 

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place. 

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free. 

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much. 

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years. 

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?" 

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty. 

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group. 

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do. 

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm. 

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it. 

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was. 

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends. 

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju. 

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while. 

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking. 

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence, 

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke. 

In a way, it was kind of cute. 

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers. 

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined. 

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him. 

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips. 

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....” 

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep. 

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking. 

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will. 

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you. 

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook. 

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family. 

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other. 

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Why was he acting like this anyway? 

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight. 

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood. 

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier. 

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before? 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you. 

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be? 

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore. 

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him? 

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end. 

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help? 

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb. 

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen. 

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly. 

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them. 

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend. 

It was you. 

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you. 

Well, Jungkook be damned. 

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure. 

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing. 

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing. 

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning. 

You went into all of this, risking everything. 

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over. 

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him. 

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea. 

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny. 

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating. 

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating, 

Because immediately you got hooked. 

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.” 

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart. 

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself. 

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary. 

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out. 

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety. 

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years. 

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out? 

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments. 

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!” 

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you. 

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life. 

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had. 

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him. 

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same. 

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?” 

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady. 

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!” 

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot. 

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering. 

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did, 

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories. 

It was you. 

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that. 

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own. 

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit. 

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?” 

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster. 

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were. 

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right? 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable. 

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?” 

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!” 

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you. 

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?” 

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other. 

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached. 

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!” 

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about. 

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system. 

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out? 

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too. 

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes. 

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace. 

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control. 

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand. 

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours. 

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread. 

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years? 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years. 

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free. 

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life. 

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

 Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that? 

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?” 

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you. 

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat. 

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?” 

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again. 

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.” 

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it. 

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t. 

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers. 

“But what the fuck is this?” 

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end. 

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care. 

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault? 

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it. 

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha. 

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part. 

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good. 

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end. 

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you. 

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right? 

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it. 

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will. 

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done. 

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like. 

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world. 

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much. 

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you. 

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen? 

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you, 

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook. 

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process. 

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown. 

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you. 

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again. 

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not. 

And he was the only one to blame. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk​ 

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

i.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

[cockasinthebird]

It was awkward at first, which isn’t much of a surprise to Steve. This is a whole new world for him-  how would he ever even go about dating or flirting with guys, least of all Billy Hargrove. Girls he understood, flowers and chocolate and driving them to the mall and carrying their shopping bags, classic textbook stuff that he’s actually quite good at if he had to say so himself.

Hi was all he managed to write to Billy.

Hey ;) was the response.

Nerve wracking, dizzying, nauseating. It left him a mess for that entire weekend, making him incapable of ever even responding to any of his other matches on the apps, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Billy fucking Hargrove. Yet he also didn’t know where to go from there, and when Billy didn’t see it fit to send him a second message, it just died out right then and there.

But there was no relief, no Oh thank God that he wouldn’t have to even try and find out what it’s like with Billy- what sex is like with Billy. Yet the thought of it stayed. Every night, morning, day. Friday, Saturday, Sunday, all ruined by a crown of golden curls, broad shoulders, his musky stench, that ugly tattoo… It doesn’t make any sense to him still, but now whenever he thinks about how firm and strong Billy was, bumping up against him on the court, the way he almost admired Steve in the showers right before calling him a pretty boy, and his voice when he said it… it’s all too vivid now. Whenever there was a moment for it, his idle hands would slowly find their way past the border of his briefs, but after only a few strokes of his half chub he’d pull back with a loud and exasperated sigh.

Come Monday morning and he’s sitting in his car, hands gripping too tight around the steering wheel, students flocking to the front doors of Hawkins High. Yet somehow through the mess of reluctant teens, Steve still manages to spot Billy without even really thinking about it, like a gorgeous needle in a hormonal haystack, jeans clinging to his sculpted ass, the fabric around his thighs looking about ready to tear-

Steve shuts his eyes, squeezing till it becomes uncomfortable in an attempt to forget that he knows what Billy looks like naked; how freckles dust across his features everywhere, how smooth he is, how he’s oh so perfectly waxed-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit.” Of all things that could have happened, Steve sporting a boner at school wasn’t rare but definitely the worst. Especially given the subject of his all too sudden desires. 

He had never cared to think twice about Billy when he wasn’t around, and now he’s the only thing on his mind. He can’t go in there like this, can’t face him like this, Steve’s body is too sensitive to even the slightest hint of Billy apparently. 

And he’s not going to jerk off in his car, that’s just… sad.

The fact that he makes it all the way home without a single speeding ticket is just dumb, lazy luck, and that he makes it to his bedroom before jerking off for the second time today is just impressive. At least he can still show some self restraint.

But only a little.

For when he’s done and ashamed of it all, he sluggishly drags his feet toward the shower, where as soon as the hot water hits his skin, he’s reminded of the locker room at school. And he’s reminded of all the times he has caught Billy stealing glances, only for those crystal blues to flee once they’ve been caught, maybe spit out a little toxic comment that’s barely heard in passing.

As he now looks down at his fully hard dick once more, yearning to a certain someone’s attention here in the nude, Steve closes his eyes only to be met by the prideful, girthy cock that even when flaccid Billy struts around with like he’s the king.

His lips pursed around a cigarette. His hands as they grasp the ball at practice. His fingers so nimble whenever he plays with a pencil in class. His smile that he flashes to all the girls. His tongue out to swipe as he grins at Steve.

“Fuck, ah-” he bites into his one hand as he cums into the other, white clashing with the pink of the bathroom tiles. And another, “Fuck!” as he slams the side of his fist against the wall of the shower.

Barely an hour passes before he’s hard and ready again, lying on the couch with old reruns of whatever on the tv, his eyes glued to the pics Billy has posted everywhere for his own conceited ego’s sake, and the hundreds of likes and comments he gets, of course.

But it’s hard not to like what you see, when you’re faced with self-confidence like this, and well earned at that considering his Adonis looks and frequent exercise routine. It wouldn’t shock Steve if he found out that Billy could lift him without breaking a sweat.

Actually it thrills him far too much to even consider, as he watches a video on instagram of Billy benching far more than what Steve weighs, and all the blood rushes into his already eager erection at such a speed he gets a little dizzy.

He almost misses the doorbell ringing in his intense, almost stalker-y field of view, and who the fuck even rings anyone’s door at almost 1pm on a Monday. A sigh and rubbing his eyes prepares him for the inevitable greeting of either mormons or jehovah's witnesses, or maybe he’s lucky to meet a travelling salesman who’s got a cure for crushing on people way outside your league.

The bell rings several times as he walks up to the door, and even after opening it up to the warm summer weather, it takes Steve several long seconds before he realises who’s standing there, toothy grin and denim clad with an arm up on the doorframe.

It hits him like a bullet to the heart, the shock of finding billy Hargrove here, in front of Steve who’s barely dressed and-

Billy’s eyes hone in on the obvious tenting of Steve’s green boxers, and that grin spreads into the widest, flashiest smile that Steve has ever possibly seen.

“Is that for me?” he drawls out, lustful and daring.

And it sets the poor trust fund kid aflame, his heart pumping so fast and hard he feels it pulsate in his dick. The blood rushing away from his brain must be making him dumb, because the only seemingly obvious reaction Steve can sort out is reaching for Billy and kissing that smug look from his face.

It doesn’t take Billy long to get in on it; he pushes his way through the door and closes it behind him, strips clean of his denim jacket before tugging off Steve’s shirt. It all happens so fast he can’t even follow, the taste of Billy’s spit and the feel of his teeth biting disorients him to a point where he can barely answer the question,

“Where’s your bedroom?”

With, “Upstairs and to the left.”

Suddenly they’re on his bed, the memory of them stumbling up the stairs as they undressed distant and nearly gone, as the throbbing of his cock has never felt louder than in this moment.

Of all the girls he’s been with, being with a man is… different. He’s nervous, almost nauseous with it, yet has never been more excited, turned on, or harder in his entire life. Hands are everywhere but where he desires them as they push him into the covers, smoothly runs up and down his chest and abs then all the way up to cup his jaw. His face feels wet with kisses and how eagerly Billy licks his lips to taste everything.

It’s a rushed mess yet it doesn’t go fast enough.

“Touch me,” he whispers without thought as he tries to keep up with Billy’s pacing.

“Yeah? Want me to touch you, pretty boy? Touch your hard, long cock?” Billy’s tone almost cruel and rough at the seams, his hands going down to grip Steve’s hips with near brutish strength.

“God yes,” Steve moans at the slight pain, “I want you to touch me so fucking bad- jerk me off, please.”

“Please?” Billy barks out a laugh at that, “Those bitches you fuck into all that nicety? Please and thank yous.”

“They love it,” Steve says with confidence that can only come from personal experience.

But it only makes Billy laugh more as he pulls away. He sits up on his knees, cock hard and thick where it stands at attention between his muscular thighs. “That won’t work with me, princess. Don’t gotta ask like a good guy for me to fuck you, just say it and I’m here.”

“How easy of you,” the words are out before Steve even thinks about it. The rivalry they have is still new and fresh, it can barely be helped, and for a moment he fears that he has ruined the moment.

Yet Billy doesn’t move away. He slowly licks along the arch of his upper lip, something deep and primal in the way he stares, and a hand runs through his golden locks to push them away from his irritatingly handsome face.

“Look who’s talking.”

In a rush that seems natural to Billy, he flips Steve onto his side before laying down behind him and pressing the head of his wet dick against the crevice of Steve’s thighs.

“Wait!” Steve almost shouts as the churning of his stomach makes him sick with worry about the more technical functions of… this.

“Don’t worry baby,” Billy’s voice all of a sudden like silk, a range so odd and unfamiliar compared to his normal boisterous attitude, “I’m not gonna pop your cherry the first time we do this. You got me too excited for that, don’t wanna wait while I prep you like you deserve,” he whispers against the shell of Steve’s ear, and it eases every single worry he had.

“Oh…” The pent up nerves in his stomach vanishes, like a knot coming undone, every single muscle in his body relaxes into the sheets.

Well, almost every single muscle.

“Yeah, oh,” Billy chuckles and rubs his nose against the back of Steve’s neck, kissing his back. “I can be a nice guy, too. You don’t gotta worry bout a thing, just let me take care of you.”

Today has been… a long, confusing mess. From the boner he woke up with after dreams of Billy, to the one in his car, the one in his shower, the one on the couch, to the way Billy so rudely shoved his way into Steve’s personal space, up the stairs, onto the bed. Rude and hectic from their first kiss till now. Now he’s… nice? Steve feels a fool for falling for it, but at least he’s aware as he lets down his guard and allows for Billy to… do whatever he pleases.

Is this how girls feel whenever a hot guy is nice to them? Whenever Steve is nice to them? Doesn’t feel like the worst thing in the world.

So he nods and hums a light agreement.

“Good,” Billy hums, too, and it makes Steve’s skin crawl in the best way possible; the shivers down his spine almost delightful as they go straight to his dick.

And when Billy gently pushes his heated flesh in between Steve’s thighs, the wet pre lubing up the skin perfectly, it’s weird and foreign, but also impossibly erotic and thrilling, and suddenly all Steve can think about is how Billy’s cock would feel inside of him.

It’s no lie that that’s something he’s thought about before - not necessarily with Billy mind you, just in general when sliding into a soaking wet pussy, he’d often get almost lost in thought about what that feels like, and if this is any indicator of it, he’s even more eager for it now.

So eager he can’t help the long, breathy moan that escapes him as Billy moves into his embrace till they’re lying flush together.

“That good huh?” Billy whispers from behind, and Steve can only imagine the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Rather than responding he moves, closing his legs tighter and grinding back against Billy, as to test his own boundaries with all of this - which has been something of a win, considering he really went from his first kiss with a guy to this within ten minutes or so. And the way Billy groans all pleasant and pushes harder into their meeting of skin jolts through Steve’s cock like a bolt of lightning making him spurt out pre.

“Yeah, keep your legs just like that,” Billy speaks uncharacteristically soft as he moves one hand down, his burning hot palm smoothly moving over a thigh and staying there for leverage, as he starts rocking back and forth. In and out. 

Steve’s breath stutters and he can’t help but put a hand over his mouth. It’s not uncommon for him to be overly vocal and enthusiastic during sex, but this felt… almost embarassing, the kind of blithe and soft coos and moans rather than deep, throaty groans making his cheeks red.

“Don’t do that.” Billy moves his hand up to grab Steve’s and intertwines their fingers. “I wanna hear you. Let me know what I do to you.”

His cock throbs with urgent need at those words. Such a deep, baritone voice that excites Steve to a fever pitch, his body burning up where sweat gathers down his back between them. It’s gross and stimulating all at once, as Billy thrusts between his wet thighs and holds him close, he feels like a virgin again.

And maybe that’s why Billy is treating him so kindly. Not that he disagreed with the fervor earlier, how crude it was to be manhandled like that, but this? This gentle rocking of their bodies as they together find harmy in the rhythm, it’s intoxicating. Steve barely even notices when his own hand sneaks down to wrap around his hard length, so lost in the moment he can’t think straight, can’t stop the sighs and moans that spill from his body as he melts into Billy’s embrace.

“That’s it,” Billy speaks softly like summer rain, “God you’re so fucking hot. Can’t tell you how long I’ve admired you in secret, thought about every single mole and freckle as I jerked off at home. This is all I’ve wanted for so long, I thought I was dreaming when I saw you on the app.”

Steve wants to respond, wants to say something like, “How do you think I felt when we matched,” but his mind is a fog of euphoria, barely able to even hear what’s being so dearly and honestly said as he can’t focus on anything other than the slickness of Billy’s cock hitting the back of his balls, nudging him closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

“Your thighs are so nice and soft, clenching around me just right, arh, you feel so fucking good, princess.”

When Billy speeds up, Steve naturally follows along.

“I’m so close.”

Steve, too. The pent up feeling that’s been quickly building to an unbearable pressure point is becoming too much, hot and ecstatic like a volcano waiting to erupt.

“Wanna cum between your legs so bad, baby.”

“Ah- please,” Steve finally finds words and it comes out like a pathetically needy little whine.

He wants to wait- wants them to cum together like he’s seen on porn as fake as that might be, but it’s a sudden and rampant thing, blinding him with fireworks behind his screwed shut eyes. A feeling that can’t possibly be expressed in any other way than a loud, prolonged, almost shocked moan, as he cums into his own hand that he jerks with ardent intensity.

Whilst not simultaneous, Billy is not far behind; urged on by Steve’s alluring keening he sped up his thrusting and grinding like he’s in a race for the finish line himself. And it would be kinda humorous if it wasn’t so hot how hard he slams into the gathering of warm, soaked flesh. Oh how he pounds into Steve with all his sweaty might, grunting and groaning till he cums with a loud and lustful moan, his hand still holding on to Steve’s with a near crushing passion to it.

And then there’s silence, as they breathe out together, muscles relaxing, dicks flaccid and sticky with cum. It’s warm and nice and cozy, but it’s hard to enjoy for Steve.

Is Billy actually this nice, or was it just a play to get off? Did he do to Steve what he does to every other bitch that he gets with? What now? What’s next? Are they gonna be a thing or just friends with benefits? Wait, are they even friends? Fuck buddies maybe? All the thoughts that he didn’t have time to be anxious about before comes rushing in fresh and clear in a post-climax-clarity moment, and it stirs the pit in his stomach alive again.

When Billy squeezes his hand gently, and asks, “What are you thinking about?” whilst nuzzling into the nape of Steve’s neck, kissing him lazily as if almost asleep.

It… helps. The thoughts aren’t gone per say but they’re in the distance now, and all it took was a simple question- a sign of caring.

Steve turns around in bed to look at Billy’s drowsy expression, before answering, “Thinking about taking a shower. You wanna come with?”

Billy’s nose furrows and wrinkles as he peeks out past ruffled curls. “Can’t we stay like this a bit longer?”

It makes Steve’s heart beat different.

“Sure.”

[tarosin]

did i do that p2

paring implied past platonic tommy/tubbo/ranboo x reader

tw: cursing, de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

TW: de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

Dear quackity,

if you’re reading this, it’s too late. you’ve probably noticed me and dream are nowhere to be found, you may ask yourself why did sam let the pair out well the answer to that is simple. he didn’t i’m sure you can find what remains of him somewhere around the prison. you really have yourself to blame, now before you start to get defensive and say ‘i didn’t do anything this is bullshit everyone’s trying to attack me’ let me tell you why. before you decided to give us weekly visits just to abuse us mentally and physically, we couldn’t stand each other. I’d go as far as to say I despised dream, but you helped unite us against a common enemy..you. now we’re unstoppable. I'll spare you the details of what happened to your precious warden. see you soon - Y/n + dream :)

“do you think he’ll be convinced we killed sam?”

“dream i’m in here for the murder of a child, of course he’s going to believe it.”

of course the pair of you didn’t actually kill sam, dream simply manipulated ranboo whilst he was enderwalking into bringing supplies you’d need. you have no idea how he managed, but at this point you didn’t care. you know damn well you shouldn’t be in this prison as you didn’t kill michael. you knew this because the ghost, at least you hope it’s his ghost and that your mind wasn’t messing with you, would stand in the corner of the cell telling you that it wasn’t you who murdered him that night. It was a range of factors: the skeletons, fear, pure exhaustion of trying to run from the mobs after him. you often found yourself ranting to dream about what you had been seeing every night for the past god knows how many months at this point, but alas it was no use. he swore he hadn’t seen anyone but you, occasionally sam, and quackity, definitely not the ghost of michael. It was now midnight according to the clock hanging on the wall. the plan was pretty simple, you would scream that dream had disappeared, causing sam to run into the cell, from then you’d use the rope ranboo gave dream to make temporary handcuffs, and whilst you all make your way to the locker room, where you’d temporarily keep sam assuming quackity would find him sooner or later, then that was it you’d finally be free.

“ready?” you nodded and dream hid in the corner, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, but nevertheless you began screaming that dream disappeared, laughing to yourself as you heard the platform moving towards the cell.

“y/n calm down what do you mean- dream get off of me i don’t want to have to kill you but i will!”

dream rolled his eyes as you tied sams hands together.

“shut the fuck up sam, do you understand how pathetic you sound? you’re outnumbered you’re not going to do anything. if you know what’s good for you and your beloved quackity, you’ll tell us which pocket has your key cards in, okay?” this seemed to trigger something in sam as within 10 minutes you and dream had him in the locker room.

“bye sam, i’m sure your boyfriend will come and collect you soon enough, we left him a letter in the cell and a note from you where you always sit saying to just go on through, don’t miss us too much!”

there you both stood, in-front of the now locked locker room, no home, no friends, no plan, but you were free, that's all that matters to you.

“dream, i have something to ask, okay? promise no matter whatever happens, whether you don’t see me for weeks or you over hear something, you won’t come looking for me.“

“stay safe y/n, a lot of people aren’t going to be happy you’re out. whatever you do, avoid quackity.”

and just like that you went your separate ways, where dream went, you have no idea, you’ll probably hear something soon enough. as for you, well you didn’t really have a plan, you weren't really sure you wanted to be alive at this point. there was a little voice that sounded a lot like tommys ringing in your head, telling you to go to the old base you and tommy made years ago, so that’s where you went. you were clinging onto the hope tommy would be there and let you explain what happened that night, you’d make up then just like old times you’d plait his hair, as the pair of you sat under moonlight listening to whichever disk tommy felt like playing that night. this of course wasn’t the case, instead you were met with previous memories of your friendship. a photo book lay in the middle of the floor as if someone knew you escaped and would go to this base, you shut the door locking it behind you for your own safety, remembering what ranboo said to you the day you were thrown in the prison. picking up the photo book you noticed something odd, the words ‘i know what you did’ and ‘i know where you are’ were scratched into the leather cover. you threw the book onto the floor scared as hell. after you calmed down, you picked the book up from the floor, which was now open on the page of a group photo of you tommy and michael, which ranboo had taken the day you both agreed to babysit him for a while. as you flicked through the book, the images got dark. It went from photos of you tubbo ranboo and tommy laughing at the beach to the night michael was killed. the last page made your blood run cold, there was two photos, one was of michaels funeral, and the second was a picture of you sat in the middle of the base holding the photo book. this was the final straw. You were no longer in control of your breathing, you began feeling like you were being preyed on by something who really wasn’t happy with you and wanted you gone, you picked up the book one last time and everything was gone. the book was back to normal no threatening messages no pictures of michaels death or of you looking through the book, the cover was back to its original state full of happy memories of when you were friends with everyone, back when you were happy.

“hello y/n.”the rooms temperature dropped suddenly you began feeling like you were being watched, you turned around to see michael sat on the floor holding a photo book a lot like the one that caused you to panic.

“hey y/n why are my parents acting like they can’t see me anymore? this isn’t funny anymore, i miss them. can you talk to them?”

“michael... this isn’t real. you’re not real. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

everything went silent as if the world stopped turning for a few seconds, that’s when you heard the child laughing.

“what do you mean i’m not real? of course i am!”

“michael darling, you're dead remember, we spoke about this in prison. the skeletons shot you in the nether”

you continued talking to michael, not even realising ranboo had followed you to the base and was watching you talk to the wall.

“who are you talking to?”

you honestly didn’t know whether you felt relieved he was there with you or if you were pissed he found you, either way you ran to him pulling him into a hug despite him constantly telling you to let go of him.

“michael, he’s over there.”

“Is this some sick joke? There's no one there. he’s dead. you killed him!”

“ranboo please.. you, you don’t understand i didn’t kill him. please just let me explain what happened. he was surrounded by skeletons. they shot him please, you have to understand I loved that boy, I still do, I would never do something like that!”

“save it y/n, i don’t want to hear it now if you don’t mind i’m going to go tell sam that you have somehow escaped.”

you fell to your knees as ranboo walked away, you sat alone with the quiet comprehension of the ending of it all before realising if someone comes back you would be in big trouble, just before you was about to begin the long walk back to dream he showed up to the base you were currently crying in, not knowing tubbo and ranboo were not far behind him listening in to your conversation with dream.

“dream please i’m begging at this point. Please end my suffering. I can't do this anymore, no one’s listening to me. I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS! there’s a bow and arrow in that chest over there.”

“y/n, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“dream, do i look like i’m joking?”

“y/n..”

“hey, what can you say? we were overdue.”

tubbo and ranboo couldn’t believe what they were hearing right now, their best friend was about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. as soon as they heard dream open the chest, they ran as fast as they could to go and get tommy.

dream left straight away, it was hard to feel regret when you’re used to bloodshed. tommy couldn’t believe what tubbo and ranboo said and was convinced they were messing with him.

“Oh, I'm sure they did. how’d they get out the prison? did they fly out?”

he stood laughing, tubbo stood staring in disbelief, ranboo stood wiping his eyes trying not to cry knowing it would scar if he did. tubbo shook his head and grabbed his husbands hand for comfort.

“you’re really joking at a time like this?”

“we should tell phil.”

the three of them made their way to phil, guilt following them as they went they couldn’t believe what just happened. after they told phil, they all made their way to the base. as soon as the three teenagers saw the trail of blood dream left behind, they completely broke down and began walking, holding onto each other in an attempt to convince themselves this didn’t happen, and that you would be there. phil went in and saw your lifeless body laying there, knowing the others wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you like this, he sent them away to go and get technoblade. A few days later they found themselves sitting with puffy explaining what happened and what you had told them. realisation slowly hit them that you did in fact not kill michael, they felt awful the three of them couldn’t sleep since the day you passed. after the funeral, they often found themselves at your house as it was the only place that they could sleep and feel as though you were still with them. everyday they would visit your grave, placing anything they found that reminds them of you, and would apologise for not believing you sooner. now you were gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

tags:

@bozowrites

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst 

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

 “Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

           “I…” you shrug. “No?”

           Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

           You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

           “Yup.”

           “Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

           You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

           “Ok.”

           You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

           For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

           It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.  

           For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

           Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

           While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

           Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

           “I do. Every day.”

           Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

           Or his lips, for that matter.

           The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

           By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

           This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

           The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

           For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

           To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

           You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

           “You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

           “Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

           Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

           “Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

           “Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

           He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

           Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

           Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

           “Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

           He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

           “Ouch.”

           Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

           You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

           “Yeah.”

           Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

           Him.

           “Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

           Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

           As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

           The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

           There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

           “I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

           “Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

           I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

           “How’re you holding up?”

           Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

           “I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

           He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

           “You suck.”

           “See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

           “Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

           He shrugs. “And so am I.”

           You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

           “Yes!”

           Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

           You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

           I loved her first.

           Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

           The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

           Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

           “Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

           A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

           “We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

           A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

           “YES.”

            You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

           There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

           “Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

           It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

           “Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

           You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

           Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

           “How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

           “But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

           Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

           “Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

           You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

           It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

           The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

           “Why are you alone?”

           Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

           “Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

           “Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

           You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

           “No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

           “What?”

           “That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

           You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

           “Then why are you here?”

           “Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

           “Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

           “I don’t see why not.”

           With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

           If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

           Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

           “Did the nosy maid get to you?”

           Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

           “Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

           “No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

           Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

           The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

           “Oh, no.”

           Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

           “I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

           Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

           Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

           “You’re so pretty.”

           Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

           “What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

           You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

           Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

           “Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

           “You brought food, so now we’re even.”

           Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

           “Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

           “Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

           Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

           “Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

           The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

           Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

           A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

           “Wait!”

           Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

           You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

           Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

           “Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

           “Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

           “I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

           From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

           “Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

           “Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

           With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

           When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

           “So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

           You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

           “Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

           Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

           “It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

           “How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

           The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

           “But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

           You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

           “Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

           Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

           “Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

           “I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

           Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

           A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

           “It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

           “Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

           Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

           “Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

           You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

           “It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

           Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

           Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

           Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

           “Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

           “Hmm?”

           Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

           Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

           The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

           Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

           Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

           “I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

           You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

           “And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

           “Woah, back up.”

           Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

           “You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

           “W-we’re staying?”

           Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

           “I wanna stay.”

           “Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

           Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

           “I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

           “What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

           “-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

           “The little…note?”

           “Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

           You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

           “The note.”

           It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

           “Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

           You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

           “Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

           Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

           “I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

           He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

           The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

           “I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

           “When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

           Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

           “Why did you tell me that?”

           You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

           Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

           “Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

           A falling star.

           In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

           Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

           “You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

           Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

           “You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

           If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

           All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

           Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

           There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

           It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

           “It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

           Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

           Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

           “You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

           You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

           The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

           “C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

           “Mmm.”

           It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

           Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

           “Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

           Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

           We.

           Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

           “Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

           “Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

           With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

           “I know.” He whispers back.

           And then he’s gone.

          ��And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that! 

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys 

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797  @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224  @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger  @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes​ @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic​ 

[yanderecandystore]

Hello, this is the first time I’ve come here and I’d like, if possible, you could place my order, I don’t remember if I already placed that ask or something, so if yes, sorry to bother you...

I can order something with Yandere! Vampire with a Vampire Slayer! Reader, please...

Welcome in!

Well yes boo, you did make a very similar request, and I'm sorry if it took me like a long time to answer you (at least to me it feels like a whole month has passed, time has been so slow and so fast somehow-) it's just that I'm dealing with a lot of stuff outside of Tumblr and although I try to not think about it, it does affect my performance in writing. Also you're not bothering me at all boo!

Also I just realized something, normally when I write I put really mean remarks about the reader but it's not supposed to be taken seriously by you guys, as it's mostly either an look into the perspective of the ocs (normally the bullies who are very mean and cruel-) or even an exaggeration on the reader's current mind state (if the reader feels dumb about a certain action they have chosen, I try to make them sound very exaggerated since I don't want any of you to take it personally, y'all are beautiful okay? Don't worry about the snarky comments and rude remarks that I may write).

I'll try to make it more obvious that it's mostly a character's exaggerated perspective next time, or maybe put trigger warnings about degrading language/mean comments.

TW/Tags: mentions of addiction (to blood) // male x male // male reader // vampy vamp // monster(vampire) x (human)reader // mentions of death // unofficial OC/just a random character I decided to create for this specific piece // captivity/kidnaping // mentions of torture/infliction of pain // mind control/gaslighting/manipulation and stockholm syndrome // being drugged/poisoned // kinda sadistic but not so much so cause I like giving y'all some softness.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖���🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

True love is found in small bites [Yandere!M!Vampire x M!Vampire Hunter!Reader - Headcanon]:

Who doesn't like a little one on one with an immortal creature in a fight filled with sexual tension? Who wouldn't want to prove their worth to their dad who is a lonely vampire hunter?

Your dad had hunted vampires all by himself for years now and he won't stop until the day he drops dead, or at least that's what he told you.

He taught you everything that you needed to know, and honestly- You probably know a lot more than some of the guys who are paid to do this every month, Hell, your dad hunts them basically every week! That's kinda the reason why he won't accompany you this time, too busy dealing with vampires in a neighboring village, some rumours of some high profiled vampires coming into your hometown… He was very concerned for your safety before deciding that whenever these rumours were true or not, he needed to check them for himself regardless.

You decided to go on a hunt on your own, hunt one down and prove to your man that you'll do just fine all by yourself.

However, you have the knowledge from the books you read and from what your father taught you, but you don't have personal experiences in fighting vampires. So that's why you're finally going to take down a vampire all by yourself.

It took you some time to find the right target, but after hearing complaints about some odd things happening in the less wealthy part of town, you thought you had a pretty clear picture of what happened. You thought that maybe some vampires have been attacking the poorest people in town to not cause a bigger panic in the population, and sadly enough, you were right.

Apparently the vampirism started to spread uncontrollably as the newly transformed vampires weren't accustomed with the new malevolent power. Some would get addicted to blood and to the power they hold against humans, and start to bite more than what they can chew on.

You found someone who was acting suspiciously, a commoner who was acting more aggressively towards his neighbors and family, he had created a lot of enemies in only a couple of days after being transformed, as he was now acting like "royalty" surrounded by peasants. The poor bastard was out of his mind, and sadly you needed to take care of him before he would hurt more people.

The work of a vampire slayer (or at least, one who works on their own accord) isn't as glamorous or "pleasant" as most may think, it involves you constantly questioning yourself and your morals, the guy you're hunting has a family but from what you heard and from what you have seen as you observed him from afar- He is clearly gone, consumed by the addiction of human blood, he would end up hurting his own family if you didn't intervene.

You had to stalk him for basically the whole day, collecting information and waiting for a good opportunity to strike him- Sadly enough, you didn't know that someone else was also interested in killing him.

It was pretty quick now that you think about it- You were about to tackle him when someone else got to do it before you. You didn't know about vampire society's inner relationships but you are aware that there is some form of hierarchy, and that those who were transformed into vampires were considered to be closer to the bottom than those who were born into it. The bottom of their social structure being those who they could all feed on, so in other words humans.

As you have already prepared yourself to attack the blood addictic, this guy who seemed to have come out of nowhere has already noticed that he wasn't alone, you wouldn't be able to hide yourself at this point and running wouldn't be an option considering how fast he moved.

The only option was left was to fight this vampire who was clearly way too powerful for your newbie ass. It was a pretty tough fight, and even if you have lost- You did manage to prove that you weren't just a random human who found themselves in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

You were very well prepared- Idris was pretty impressed by your resistance, but from his eyes, you were lacking a lot in the intelligence department. You were a good brawler, but not a decent vampire slayer by far- He would question you about your level of skill constantly, even mocking the idea of you being an "newbie" at this job.

Idris had won in the end, making you his prisoner who he would bring back to his clan to be used as an easy food source while also giving them info about other vampire slayers. Of course you wouldn't give them anything, no matter how bad your situation was you would still fight to the very end.

Idris had used one of his abilities to bring you two to his clan's hideout in a blink of an eye, you weren't expecting it to be so quick. You were tied up and inside an "abandoned" mansion filled with vampires, you were sure you wouldn't survive this at all- Yet you had promised yourself to not give them any information about other vampires slayers, especially your father.

You have met them, all of them- All of the Nox clan of pure vampires (or at least the last of them), in one single place. They were all so eager to jump in and start the "fun" with you. To torture you, drink from you, control your mind so you would spill all that you know, they tried to but you wouldn't stop squirming and fighting their touch- However, your attitude has only helped to aggravate them.

Idris was in charge of taking care of you- And by that they meant he was the one who would be screwing with you the most. He would keep you alive with your bare necessities but would also be the one to punish and torture you to speak up.

Interestingly enough, Idris wasn't interested in violently taking the truth out of you- Oh no, boo- He was much more sadistic than that.

He saw you as a plaything, like a cat he would see you as something he should toy with before devouring- He would try to push you to your limits verbally, trying to trigger some sort of wound you may have. You were stronger than he assumed, he should have known you weren't so dumb to give in to his insults and threats.

He would still bite you though, hey, a man needs some blood before continuing his private interrogation, right? It's not his fault you're both his snack and the one being interrogated.

You were strong minded, you weren't feeling too awful about being taken as a prisoner, since you felt as if deep down you could still escape this- So the effects of the poison that he would inject on you weren't showing up at first, but after sometime of being under this terrible living condition with only him to talk with, you started to feel some type of weird way around him.

It could be the poison finally taking over, but you have started to notice some… Particular choices that Idris took when interacting with you. Again- It could be all some magic shit in your mind, but you could swear that the lingering touches from him weren't rough or painful as his threats.

Idris was never physically harmful towards you, even to his peers dismay as they would constantly scold him for being too soft. He was indeed very off putting and sadistic- But could he be hiding something deep inside his literally cold exterior? You started to think so… Well, you started to hope so.

See, although the poison is already making your mind dizzy and making you feel some kind of weird attraction towards Iris- It wasn't completely just your mind playing tricks on you, Idris has been trying a new tactic with you and it was working.

Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but for the last few weeks he has started to flirt with you more, touch you more and whisper less concerning things into your ears, and you were eating it all up due to your isolation and his poisonous bite.

The more he sucked your blood, the more enamoured you were with his softer "side", the poison becoming stronger with each bite. But everyday you two spend time together, Idris can't help but feel just as interested in you as you are to him. He may play it off as a sadistic manipulative (which he kinda is-) vampire who is above you and his own feelings- But whenever it's just you and him, he just feels like there is a bigger connection being formed.

The more you two get to know each other the more he'll start falling for you, to the point he doesn't know if he is faking empathy and care or if he actually likes you in a weird way. He has started to feel very satisfied whenever you start acting clingy, desperate even for his attention (again- He is the only one willing to even talk with you before biting you and sucking your blood), the sensation of power he feels is a little bit overwhelming- But very much appreciated.

You have started to feel some side effects from losing so much blood everyday, which has made Idris concerned and incapable of drinking from you for at least some time while you recover from it. But since you need some time to rest without being injected with more venom from fangs, which will cause you to start waking up from your brainwashed state and remember that A: It has been months since you were gone, your dad is out there looking for you and it's possibly thinking you're dead; B: You're trapped in a mansion filled with the last vampires of a powerful clan which has been massacred by vampire slayers like you; and C: You were starting to catch feelings for the one who brought you here- Regardless of manipulation and freaky vampire shit- You were indeed falling for his charm.

Whenever that happens, it will be obvious that you'll start trying to fight them and escape again, even if you're very, very weak from all these months without proper training and healthy eating habits.

You may try your hardest dear, but you'll need a better plan than just going feral on Idris. He is a lot stronger than you, especially since you can't even stand up on your own, and even hurting him makes you feel oddly awful- You had relied on him for so long, that it feels like you would be betraying him if you actually do hurt him, it seems like some of the effects of so much time under his manipulation are still present.

You can't hurt him, but you can still try to sneak out. You should still try to escape!

You would eventually come up with a plan to run away while it was still morning, even if it was a very flawed plan considering that the only place you knew in this entire mansion was Idris's room and bathroom. For some miracle reason, you would find a way to sneak out, it was pretty hard considering you have no strength in your legs, yet luckily no one seemed to be aware of your sudden movement around the corridors- Apparently the whole clan is composed of heavy sleepers.

Your escape was successful, but you wouldn't be able to reach safety anytime soon in your condition- And you knew that eventually they would wake up again and Idris would find you soon. Yet as you had promised yourself and your father, you weren't going down without a fight.

Idris is responsible for you, so whenever he notices that you were gone- He would first assume one of his kind has took you, but considering how everyone else in the clan considers him to be a nuisance and incompetent, he couldn't possibly ask around where were you. If he did, they would end up yelling at him and take you as their personal blood bag- He couldn't let them know that you have escaped.

He would search for you and be honest to god thankful that you weren't dead yet- He would be pissed but more concerned about your current state, after all you were supposed to be resting from losing so much blood and yet here you are: Trying to survive the wild nature around the mansion in a stupid attempt of escaping the vampires.

Idris would have to bite you more often while also giving some days off so you could rest, but doing in a way that you never lose the effects of the poison- He can't stand to see you fighting him so much.

I mean- He thinks that it's pretty attractive how fiesty you are, but he needs you to stay still in his bedroom and to start giving him those confused yet passionate eyes again- Idris doesn't know whether or not you're in love with him or is just acting in instinct considering your current position, and he soon will find himself begging for you to truly give in to this weird fantasy he has built around you two- But for now, all that he wants is the smallest affection that may come from you, even if it's not as true and morally correct as true love is supposed to be.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[hrtiu]

Writing prompt idea- Bobannec marriage with the mandalorian vows? Maybe it’s a sincere but spur-of-the-moment thing between the two of them. I love your writing for this pairing! :)

Sorry it takes me so long to get to these prompts! I am still working through them, though, I promise! This one is great, thanks so much for the prompt <3

The heat on Tatooine was dry, but every once in a while the temperatures soared so high that the air was still heavy and sultry with it. On just one such day, Boba Fett rested in Fennec’s basement study at the palace, his back slouched in a wicker chair and his feet propped up against the edge of Fennec’s desk. He could be in his own study, of course, but the basement was always coolest on days like this, when even old Jabba’s powerful refrigeration system struggled to cool the ancient palace.

Fennec poured over a stack of flimsi and several datapads, her eyes flitting across each page for only a few seconds before moving on. Boba left most administrative work to Dr. Pershing—his brilliant mind was perfectly suited to paying bills and sorting the junk mail from what deserved Boba’s attention—but Fennec took on some of the more complicated business matters personally. She was a genius with a ledger, bringing Boba’s empire comfortably into the black less than two years after they’d started working together.

“Are you free next Tuesday?” Fennec asked, not bothering to look up from her datapad.

“Yes.”

“Alright. Keep it free. We’re going to Mos Eisley.”

The corner of Boba’s mouth turned down in distaste. “For what?”

“I’m making an appointment at the courthouse to get married. The tax benefits are ludicrous.”

Boba froze, his back arched midway through a stretch. Marriage. To Fennec? Taxes?

“I didn’t think we were the tax-paying type,” he said once he’d recovered enough to find his voice.

Fennec set her datapad down and looked over at Boba, a slight smile playing at her lips. “Only amateurs don’t pay their taxes at all. You have to give them something to throw them off your scent.”

“You want to get married to get a break on our fake taxes? On taxes that only represent a fraction of what we should be paying?”

Fennec narrowed her eyes at him. “And you have a problem with that? How do you think we got such a healthy surplus?”

Boba got to his feet and reached for his helmet. This was not a conversation he wanted his expression visible for. “We can afford it. Just pay the damn taxes.”

He started for the door, but the cold tone of Fennec’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“What is your problem?” she asked. “It’s just a legal status.”

He turned on her. “It’s not just a legal status. Not to me.”

Her eyes flashed. “We’re already practically married. What are you not ok with? Do you want me to move out?”

“No!”

“Do you want to stop sharing finances? Do you want me to sleep with other people? Do you want to sleep with someone else?”

“No!” Boba, more forcefully than he meant to. Then he noticed the flicker of doubt glinting in Fennec’s eyes. Funny, he didn’t think he’d ever seen something like that in her expression before. “No…” he repeated, softer this time. “Of course not.”

“Then… what’s the problem?” Her voice had gone quiet—almost delicate, though Boba would never admit to even thinking of her that way.

“I don’t want to get married in the same place that spice addicts get sentenced, that’s all,” he said. “Even if it’s just for taxes.”

Fennec slumped back in her chair with a sigh, and Boba’s body relaxed. They’d fought enough over the years for him to recognize a ceasefire when he saw one.

“Fine. We don’t have to go to the courthouse,” she said.

“Good.” He stepped out of the office and closed the door softly behind him. As he walked up the stairs out of the basement, he stubbornly ignored the knot forming in his stomach. He’d won the argument, so why did he keep feeling like he’d lost?

---

Boba barely saw Fennec over the course of the next three days. She’d always been somewhat elusive, disappearing for a few days at a time when she needed space, but this was the longest she’d been gone in years. It was the longest she’d been gone since they’d started sharing a bed.

Boba told himself he was fine with it. She was like an itinerant tooka, coming and going as she pleased. He knew he needed to be patient and let her come to him.

On the third day after their argument Boba walked into the master suite and immediately knew she was back. The signs were everywhere, subtle but unmistakable. The pile of shoes Boba had left by the door had been straightened, the lamp in the corner that Fennec liked to read under was lit, the closet doors—which Boba never bothered with—were shut. Afraid to spook her, Boba stepped cautiously further into the suite.

“...Fen?”

“In here,” her voice called from their room.

He followed the sound into their room, where Fennec tossed him his favorite blaster before he had time to register the sight in front of him.

“You have your armor on? Good,” she said.

Boba clutched at the blaster automatically, but his eyes stayed glued on Fennec. She was wearing a jet black gown that swept to the floor in elegant, draping fabric. The top twisted and criss crossed over her collarbone, tying behind her neck and revealing her shoulders. Her toned arms were hard with muscle but somehow her curves still showed through, her hips smooth and inviting and her skin begging to be touched.

“Fen… What’s this?” Boba managed to get out.

She picked up her sniper rifle from the bed and slung it over her shoulder, the thick leather strap at odds with her gazy dress but somehow still at home on her body. “You said you didn’t want to get married in a courthouse. So I did some research.”

“Research?” Boba was struggling to follow her, his mind both pleased and utterly bewildered by this turn of events.

“Yes.” She stepped towards him, sniper rifle still slung over her shoulder, and took one of his hands in hers. “I thought we could get married the Mandalorian way.”

“Oh…” This couldn’t be real, could it? Boba wondered in a daze. Did Fennec really know him so well? Could she see so far into his soul as to understand what he wanted before he even knew it himself?

That shadow of doubt passed across Fennec’s expression once more, and her grip on Boba’s hand tightened just the smallest amount. “Unless that’s not what you want,” she said.

That rare, precious show of vulnerability shook Boba from his daze, and his fingers squeezed Fennec’s back. He locked eyes with her and swallowed thickly, unexpectedly nervous.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” he said.

The corner of her mouth turned up and she responded, “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

And just like that, they were husband and wife.

Boba dropped his blaster to the floor and surged forward, pulling Fennec into a fierce kiss. She returned in kind, her lips moving against his in a way that was achingly familiar yet just as thrilling as the day they’d first kissed. He broke away long enough to push her onto their bed, then he was back on her, his tongue dragging a hot line up her neck.

She squirmed under him, then pushed him away so she could remove the sniper rifle from her back. Once her weapon was out of the way she snaked her hands around the back of his neck and drew him back down to her, her eyes dark and shining with an intensity only she held.

“What’s with the blaster and rifle, anyway?” Boba asked between breathless kisses.

She chuckled into his ear, her voice throaty and irresistible. “I don’t know, it just seemed more… Mandalorian.”

He snorted in response, though he couldn’t deny she was right. His wife was always right.

His wife. What a thought. Boba’s hand crept further and further up her thigh—his wife’s thigh—and he felt himself getting lost in her. With a jerk of her hips, Fennec rolled him onto his back and all he could do was stare up in wonder at her beautiful, lethal face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her braid hung over her shoulder, messy and nearly undone. She was the most flawless woman in the whole galaxy, and she was his. She was perfect, and he was hers.

She leaned down to him, and Boba lost his breath. “You know we’re still going to the courthouse next week, right?” she said, her voice husky and commanding.

Boba chuckled and drew her closer to him. “Damn taxes…”

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 18: Girl’s Night (Heroes/Villains)

AO3

Prev

First

Teleporting back into her room in Gotham, Marinette flops onto her bed. Passing Kaalki sugar cubes and Tikki a cookie, she suppresses the urge to scream into her pillow. She was sick and tired of Hawkmoth. Sick and tired of being the one who has to fix everything. She just wanted one week with no Hawkmoth, no akuma attacks. But no. Of course not. Of course he just had to send out a stupid akuma every single day. Because why not. How’re people supposed to know he’s still being the main villain of Paris if he takes a freaking day off? Once she finds out who he is, she’s going to punch him in his stupid face. A knock on her door pulls her from her plotting ways to get back at Hawkmoth. 

“Come in.” She sighs, sitting up and forcing a tired smile on her face. 

“Marinette, your father wanted-” Selina starts, pausing as she looks her over. “Come on kitten, we’re having a girls day.” She says. Marinette raises an eyebrow. Sure she’d met Selina before, but they hadn’t really hung out yet. 

“What?” She asks. 

“You look exhausted and angry, sweetheart. Spending too much time with these boys isn’t going to help. So you’re gonna grab anything you need for an overnight trip and we’re going to go watch movies and eat junk food til we’re sick.” Selina instructs. Marinette grins, jumping up and shoving stuff into her backpack. She puts Kaalki’s glasses into her purse and lets her and Tikki fly in before she turns to Selina. 

“Ready!” She says, practically bouncing up and down in excitement. It’d been ages since she’d had a girls day with anyone. She was so ready to just take a break and be silly. 

“Well come on then. Harley and Ivy are going to adore you.” Selina says, slinging her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. Somehow, they manage to not see anyone on the way to Selina’s car. Which is weird, but it is a weekday so everyone probably had something to do besides sit around the manor. Pulling away from the manor, Selina flips on the radio, the new Jagged Stone song blasting full volume.

“Nice taste in music.” Marinette says with a wide grin. Selina smirks. 

“I have to like the man at least a little, his designer is one of my kids after all.” She says. Marinette smiles, a warm feeling flooding through her. Selina didn’t have to accept her with open arms, she didn’t have to treat her like she was her own daughter. But she did, and Marinette was so thankful for that. Thankful that even so far away from her Maman, she still had a Mom there for her. The two nod along to the music, scream singing the chorus together as the car pulls to a stop in front of an apartment building. Marinette glances at the building, suddenly nervous. Would Harley and Ivy like her? Or would they just tolerate her for Selina. 

“Don’t make yourself nervous, sweetheart. Harley and Ivy are two of the sweetest people I know. They’re gonna love you.” Selina says reassuringly, reaching over and squeezing Marinette’s shoulder. Marinette lets out a breath before nodding. 

“Okay, let’s go.” She says, grabbing her bag and jumping out of the car. She follows closely behind Selina, not wanting to give anyone the chance to get between them. You could never be too careful in Gotham. They walk into the building and go straight into the elevator, Selina pushing the button and leaning up against the wall while they wait. Marinette bounces on the balls of her feet, excitement and nerves bundling together. The second the elevator stops, Marinette’s out, following Selina down the hall. She pulls out a key, winking at Marinette before turning and unlocking the door. 

“Honey, I’m home!” She calls, and Marinette’s jaw drops. The apartment was quite literally covered in plants and vines. They were beautiful. She grins as one of the vines near her leans towards her, a small flower blooming at the end of it. 

“And who did you bring with you?” A tall woman with red hair asks, walking into the room. The designer inside of Marinette instantly has a million questions about the woman’s outfit. It seemed to be made entirely of plants, but she could also tell that they were still alive. She had no idea how the woman had managed that, but she guessed that it was something that couldn’t be replicated for someone else. 

“I’m Marinette. Nice to meet you!” She says with a wide smile. The woman, who Marinette assumes is Ivy, grins back. 

“Nice to meet you, Flower. I see you’ve already made a friend.” She says, gesturing to the vine which was now wrapped around Marinette’s wrist. Marinette giggles. 

“Well, I was hoping they liked me and that’s what this was. I have a garden back in Paris, and I’d hate to find out plants actually hate me.” She says. Ivy shakes her head. 

“No worries there. They adore you, it’s a little odd if I’m honest.” Ivy says, dodging Selina who tries to flick her. 

“Did I hear Selina?” Another voice asks, a short blonde woman walking into the room. Her hair was short and choppy, the small pigtails at the top of her head dyed pink. Marinette grinned at the woman’s outfit- a Gotham Amusement Pier t-shirt, Batman pajama pants, and hot pink fuzzy socks. She wondered if her dad knows that Harley Quinn has Batman pj pants….probably not. 

“Yes, with a guest.” Selina says, plopping onto the couch and gesturing over to Marinette, who was still standing by her new vine friend. 

“Hi! I’m Marinette, it’s nice to meet you.” She says, smiling and waving with her free hand. Ivy whispers something and the vine squeezes a bit before letting go, letting her move away from the door. 

“Well aren’t ya just the cutest!” Harley squeals, running forward and giving her a big hug. “Didjya finally join your boytoy’s adopting habits?” Harley adds, still clutching onto Marinette. Selina snorts. 

“No, he beat me to her. But she’s definitely mine, too.” She says, making Marinette’s face turn red. Harley coos at her, ruffling her hair before stepping back. 

“So what brings ya here? Get annoyed with Bats already?” Harley asks. Marinette blinks in shock. Harley knows? She thinks about it for a minute, and realizes it just makes sense. They’d been fighting long enough and then he started his relationship with Selina, who was one of Harley’s best friends. It just made sense that Harley (who was extremely smart) would put two and two together. 

“No, just thought that Mari could use a girl’s day. She’s been stuck with just the boys for over a week.” Selina explains. Harley gasps. 

“The horror!” She says, making Marinette giggle. “Come on pumpkin, I’ve got the comfiest jammies ever. Oooo, and we can paint our nails! Ivy, find the movies, Selina, you’re on snacks. This is gonna be so much fun!” Harley orders, grabbing Marinette’s hand and tugging her along to one of the bedrooms, Selina’s laugh echoing throughout the apartment. 

“I did bring pjs, ma’am.” Marinette says, once Harley stops tugging her and starts searching through a drawer. 

“Bet that can’t be comfier than the ones I’ve got for ya! And call me Harley kiddo, or Auntie Harley if ya wanna.” She says, looking up from the drawer to smile widely. She looks back and cheers in victory, pulling out a pair of bright red pajama pants. Marinette snorts when she notices the logo all over the pants. 

“Really?” She asks, giggling. Harley smirks. 

“We’ll have to take a picture of us and send it to your old man. Really get ‘im riled up.” She says. Marinette nods excitedly, taking the Robin pants from Harley. This was gonna be awesome. 

---

Bruce sighs, looking at the news report from Paris from earlier. The damned butterflies were hard to track. He was used to figuring out problems quickly, and this one was taking too long for comfort. It wouldn’t bother him as much if it was anywhere else, but it was directly impacting his daughter. She was being hurt daily, and she’d even died and now she was plagued with nightmares. All because of a man with some magic jewelry. God, he hated magic. A knock on the study door stirs him from his thoughts. 

“Come in.” He says.

“Hey B, have you seen Mari? I was gonna ask her if she wanted to go get ice cream with me and Little D.” Dick asks, leaning against the door frame, Damian standing next to him with his arms crossed.

“Not since breakfast. There was another akuma attack earlier, but it wasn’t a bad one. She wasn’t injured.” He says, remembering the completely strange battle from earlier. It was some man with pigeons, and apparently this was the 34th time the man had been akumatized over pigeons. 

“Did you not check her room after the battle?” Damian asks, eyebrow quirked. Bruce sighs. 

“It was the pigeon one again. I assumed that she’d want to take a nap, if anything. She still hasn’t been sleeping well. Tim said she’s awake every morning when he comes up for coffee, whether it’s three or five, she’s up.” Bruce explains, frowning at the thought of his youngest daughter’s sleep habits. He certainly didn’t need another sleep deprived coffee addict like Tim. It wasn’t healthy. 

“Well I already checked her room. She wasn’t there.” Dick says, and Bruce frowns, pulling out his phone to send a text to Tim and call Jason. One of them had to have seen her. She never left the house without telling one of the family, unless it was for a battle. 

“What.” Jason says gruffly, Bruce is just grateful he answered. Up until a couple of months ago, Jason would have rather thrown his phone in the river than answer one of Bruce’s calls. 

“Have you seen Marinette?” He asks, getting straight to the point.

“No? Why? What’s wrong?” Jason asks, and Bruce hears shuffling as Jason rushes around wherever it is he is. 

“Nothing. I’ll call you back.” He says, hanging up. He glances down at his texts and notices Tim hasn’t seen her either. He frowns, but doesn’t panic yet. Pulling out his computer, he pulls up the tracker that was on each of his children’s phones. He scans the map, frowning when he sees that her phone is still in the manor. In her room. He stands and swiftly moves past his sons to get to his daughter’s room. He knocks, waiting for an answer. None. 

“Marinette?” He calls, knocking again. “I’m opening the door.” He warns, pushing it open. He frowns at the empty room, nothing appearing out of place. 

“Do you think she had to pop back to Paris for something?” Dick asks, coming up behind him. Bruce shakes his head. 

“No, she would have told us. Suit up, she has to be somewhere in-” He stops as his phone chimes. He looks at it and feels all of the tension leave his shoulders. 

Took our youngest daughter for a girl’s day, back tomorrow XO. Of course Selina had her. 

“She’s with the Sirens. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Bruce says, suppressing a smile at the annoyed look on his youngest’s face. She was safe, and that’s what matters. Even if he was certain he’d have to listen to Damian complain for the entirety of patrol. 

---

“Make all the boy moose go WAAAAAAAAA!” Harley says with the movie, laughing loudly. Marinette chuckles, passing Tikki a cookie in her purse before sticking another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. 

“I still like the first one more.” Selina says, taking a sip of her wine. Harley sticks her tongue out at her before turning her attention back to the movie. 

“Do you think Mia is secretly a superhero?” Marinette asks, frowning in thought. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Ivy asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Even Harley pauses the movie to turn and stare at her. 

“Stan Lee.” Marinette says with a shrug. 

“Is that s’posed to mean something to me, kid? Cause I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” Harley says, obviously confused. Marinette huffs. 

“Stan Lee makes a cameo in this movie. And Stan Lee is the creator of Marvel, right? He’s made a cameo in like, every single Marvel movie. So is Mia secretly a superhero? Is that why he’s in the movie?” Marinette rambles, almost flinging ice cream at Selina as she gestures crazily. 

“Sweetie, how much sleep have you had in the past three days?” Selina asks after a few moments of silence. 

“Not important. Is Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Princess of Genovia, also a superhero? Does she secretly work for SHIELD? Or is she more like Iron Man, like a freelance superhero? Was she a hero in San Francisco too? Or did she take over a hero's mantle when she moved to Genovia? Cause she was really clumsy in the first movie and also super awkward, but now she’s less clumsy and she seems to be more put together, but are heroes really put together? I don’t think so. I think sometimes heroes pretend that they’re put together to make everyone else feel better when in all reality they’re seconds away from a breakdown themselves. Is Stan Lee coming to recruit her for SHIELD? Is that why he’s in Genovia? Does SHIELD have any jurisdiction there? Is there a Genovian branch of SHIELD?” Marinette rambles, suddenly stuck on the topic. Seriously, why is Stan Lee in Princess Diaries 2 if Mia isn’t a hero? Why would he-

“Kitten, take a breath.” Selina says, her hands on Marinette’s shoulders helping her to ground herself. Marinette takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She blinks a few times, instantly feeling bad. 

“I’m so sorry.” She says, frowning. 

“What for?” Harley asks, looking confused. 

“For ruining girl’s night.” She says quietly. Selina pulls her into a tight hug and Marinette sinks into it. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t know everything that’s going on. But what I do know, is that you rambling out a conspiracy theory about the movie we’re watching is not ruining girl’s night. Trust me. One time, we invited your brother Dick, and he ate all of the cookies by himself.” Selina says, Marinette snorts. Of course he did. “Now that’s a way to ruin girl’s night.” She adds, squeezing her once more before leaning back.

“Let's watch something that we can just get lost in and not have to think at all.” Ivy suggests, looking through the stack of dvd’s. Marinette glances over, eyes instantly catching one of her favorite movies. 

“Legally Blonde?” She suggests, Harley squeals. 

“That’s it, you’re officially ours. Brucie can fight me.” She says, putting in the dvd. Marinette laughs, laying her head on Selina’s shoulder, grabbing a handful of popcorn. She could get used to nights like these.

Next Chapter

Bonus chapter: Harley Vs Bruce

Drawing of Harley and Mari’s pajamas

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 

[padawanlost]

So I was on Quora the other day, and someone speculated that insecurity was at the root of Anakin's arrogance and apparent cockiness. I thought this through and it makes so much sense. He felt insecure in his place as a Jedi and had this constant need to prove himself. What's your take?

Personally, I’ve never seen Anakin as arrogant. I think he was *perceived* as arrogant by the people around him but, internally, Anakin was also driven by insecurity (not egotism).

Because he was so insecure in a place where he knew he wasn’t accepted as he was, he overcompensated. It’s a very common behavior: I’ll try harder to prove myself. And because he was so powerful, his attempt to prove himself worthy was viewed as an attempt to show off.

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. And they stopped him training the Chosen One. Qui-Gon hadn’t cared what the Jedi Council said. He’d trained him anyway, a Padawan in all but name. Why am I thinking of all this now? Haven’t I put it behind me? Haven’t I had enough bad memories since then to take their place? Haven’t I vindicated Master Qui-Gon? [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

Anakin enjoyed praise from Obi-Wan, but often became sullen when he was reprimanded. Obi-Wan assured him that he himself had been frequently reminded by Qui-Gon to be more mindful of the Force, but somehow even the slightest criticism managed to leave Anakin feeling stung. First they tell me to do my best, then they tell me I’ve gone too far! ANAKIN SKYWALKER IN THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

Because Anakin had not been trained since infancy at the Temple like nearly all other Padawans, various Jedi Masters accepted the fact that he lacked the discipline of his fellow students. They were less accepting, however, of his arrogant behavior when he demonstrated his abilities. I’m more powerful with the Force than some of my instructors, Anakin thought, and they know it! ANAKIN SKYWALKER IN THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

Despite Anakin’s desire to distance himself from the slave he had once been, he was unable, or unwilling, to shed the other aspects that had defined him on Tatooine. He still dreamed of glory, still craved adventure, and never lost his appetite for high-speed thrills and the desire to prove himself in competition. THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

What evidence to we truly have that Anakin was arrogance beyond people calling him that? And considering most of his peers and superiors didn’t take much time to get to truly know him, I’d say their option can be considered biased:

Anakin was liked by the other students, but he had no close friends. He was not loved. Obi-Wan told himself that Anakin’s gifts naturally set him apart. But in his heart, he grieved for Anakin’s loneliness. JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE WAY OF THE APPRENTICE]

Just when Anakin thought he’d passed that elusive finishing line that said adult, experienced, seen it all, he realized he was still twenty, Jedi or not, and the wounded boy in him still rose to the surface—provoked into angry violence, scared of abandonment, and still in need of approval. KAREN TRAVISS [STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS NOVELIZATION]

[Obi-Wan] knew, glancing at his Padawan’s eager face, that Anakin meant well from the bottom of his heart. If Obi-Wan saw a shadow on that heart, he knew it would pain his Padawan to know it. In many ways, Anakin was still a boy. A wounded, loving, anxious boy with great gifts he did not fully understand. Yet he was also a young man, close to maturity, who could do great harm. To others, yes. To himself, most of all JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE SCHOOL OF FEAR]

“I just…” Anakin stopped. He took a ragged breath. “I thought you would be proud of me.” I am proud of you. Obi-Wan wanted to say the words. They were true. He was proud of so much in Anakin. But now was not the time to tell him that. Or was it? JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE SCHOOL OF FEAR]

Fixing broken machines was like a meditation. Fixing broken machines was an antidote to every pain, every loss, every fear, every defeat. Fixing broken machines kept him from going mad. CLONE WARS GAMBIT: STEALTH

This doesn’t sound like some who thinks that highly of himself.

 “Master…,” he said hesitantly, “I know I’ve… disappointed you in these past few days. I have been arrogant. I have… not been very appreciative of your training, and what’s worse, of your friendship. I offer no excuse, Master. My frustration with the Council… I know that none of it is your fault, and I apologize. For all of it. Your friendship means everything to me.”

Interestingly enough, Obi-wan says it best:

You are very observant, Ferus, but you must accept that I know him better than you,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “Anakin can be arrogant. I know that. But he is also learning and growing. He is respectful of his great power. He does not abuse it. He is younger than you, but he has seen much injustice, many terrible things. I do not think it so wrong that he wants to change things. You must understand that it isn’t ambition that drives him. It is compassion. OBI-WAN KENOBI IN STAR WARS – JEDI QUEST: THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD BY JUDE WATSON

Yes. Anakin can act arrogantly. We all can. It’s part of being human and flawed. but that doesn’t mean that was ALL Anakin was. More often than not, Anakin was motivated by fear, love, kindess and, yes, even hate.

Taking them, she looked up at him and shook her head, even though it still ached. “It’s odd. You’re nothing like I expected.” “Why?” he said, perching on the edge of the nearby chair. “What did you expect?” “I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” That made him smile. “As opposed to what?” She swallowed the pain-tabs, washing them down with a mouthful of water. “Oh. You know. The HoloNet news—it portrays as you as this—this—heroic warrior. Larger than life. Charging into battle, lightsaber flashing. Scourge of the Separatists. That kind of thing.” She shrugged. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Because of Hayden’s Anakin being do disliked and, of course, because of the TCW wonky characterization everyday we are seeing more and more people embracing the idea of arrogant idiot Anakin. even if such characterization is not supported by the movies, the lore and basic common sense.

People use Obi-wan’s words in AOTC against Anakin but the truth is, as shown above, Obi-wan himself later recognizes that Anakin is not arrogant (even if he sometimes act that away). Besides, using AOTC to show Anakin’s arrogance doesn’t make much sense because of Hayden’s acting. Anakin doesn’t act like some arrogant prick for most of the movie. if anything, AOTC is a great of example of Anakin’s submissive and insecure behavior.

At last, let’s not forget that the same people calling Anakin arrogant were also facing the same criticism:

“But he still has much to learn, Master,” Obi-Wan explained. “His skills have made him … well, arrogant.” “Yes, yes,” Yoda agreed. “It’s a flaw more and more common among Jedi. Too sure of themselves, they are. Even the older, more experienced Jedi.” [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

People seem to forget that Anakin was in his early 20s when he ‘died’. Show me a teenager or a young adult who’ve never acted arrogantly and i’ll show you a liar. So why is Anakin the only one getting shit for that?

So, yeah, i agree. Anakin wasn’t motivated by arrogance. He was motivated by fear and insecurity, byproducts of his childhood trauma and years of grooming and emotional neglect.

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Ten

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: omg this chapter is so sad!!!

Warnings: angst, language

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART TEN

You cried so much that you forgot what it felt like to not have your breath caught in your throat, or tears in your eyes, wetness on your cheeks. Even if you’d barely spent a week with Loki, when he left you there, without even trying to get to you, the bond inside of you screamed. It’s even worse than when you couldn’t see him, when Natasha and Bruce were trying to get you to stay away. Now that’d you’d had a taste, you just wanted more, and the bond that had been a knot in your belly now felt like burning fire.

Thor took you in his arms and brought you back to a jet, but both the wound on your head and the one in your heart kept you from having any conscience of it. You were crying so hard it hurt, your stomach clenching, breaths hiccupping out of your lungs, eyes swollen.  

The last thing you remembered before they put you under, pressing a mask to your face, was the wretched sobs coming from your throat.

Your dreams were nothing but black. It was like floating in space, with no stars, with no air, and the suffocation of the dream left you even more anguished than Loki’s departure.

Why hadn’t he tried? Why hadn’t he at least tried to take you with him, instead of looking at you with those eyes, his mouth parted?

You’d remember that look until the day you died.

Death was more peaceful than this.

When you woke up, Bruce was all over you, acting like the mommy you both never had. He was in your recovering room 24/7, bringing you everything you ever wanted. And when they moved you out of the recovery room and back at the Avenger’s compound, Bruce was still on your heels like a leech. 

Nat kept her eyes on you every time you passed by the door, as if you’d pounce right back out there if she dared to leave you alone.

Steve kept giving you speeches about good and evil, how Loki’s bond with you did not mean what he did was right. 

Tony dropped by once in a while, asking you questions on Loki, but all you knew was what you’d seen while at the loft, and revisiting those memories made you want to scratch your eyes out.

When you stopped talking, just shut down, they brought in a therapist. But even she couldn’t make you talk. All that anger was the only thing that made you remember him. And the bond desperately wanted you to remember him. Every single moment spent away from Loki, the bond called to him. It gave you stupid ideas to reach out somehow, to runaway, to seek out a way to get back to him. 

But you couldn’t leave. Ever. The Avenger’s compound was on lock down, and you could not be left alone in it, ever. It was your own personalized prison. 

You wished so desperately, but so quietly, that Loki would come for you. That he’d bring an army and get you back. 

But the news you overhead - because they didn’t allow you to know anything about Loki’s whereabouts - suggested Loki couldn’t give more of a fuck about you. He’d terrorized more people across the Earth, all intent on “taking over the world” or whatever. 

“He’s got Selvig,” you heard Thor telling Nat. You were lying on the couch and they didn’t know you were there as they prepared lunch. “He’s going to open a portal and bring the Chitauri army here.”

“If he does that,” Nat said with a hiss, “then it’s going to get far worse than it already is.”

You knew what she meant by that. The Avengers already had to take care of you - Loki’s soulmate - and adding an alien war to the pile was not going to facilitate their game.

And if Loki wasn’t coming for you, you wouldn’t make any effort to get back to him. 

*** Eighteen days later, Three hours before the attack on New York ***

You didn’t like the movie. Nat had chosen it as the boys had taken over the gym to have “a boys workout” as they called it. 

Nat had been careful in avoiding any romance movies, and had picked an action packed, hot boy movie with no story line and a lot of explosions. The main character was good-looking enough to distract you from the actual plot, and the fact that you did not have a phone - actually, not allowed - made you even more concentrated on the character. 

It wasn’t long before the boys came back out, smelling like sweat and rubber. Lately, they’d all been hitting the gym often since Loki’s army was waiting to invade. Tony insisted on a seven-day a week training until they’d either caught Loki or killed him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat at the image of a dead Loki in your head. Thor’s presence didn’t really help either. He kept mentioning his brother as if you weren’t even there. 

“You okay?” Bruce asked, tapping your knee as he took a seat beside you.

You wrinkled your nose. “Ew, Bruce, you smell so gross,” you whined, pinching your nose. 

He smiled, the perpetual look of caution on his face he wore only around you dropping and softening his features. 

“Come on,” he drawled, “it’s not that bad!”

But before you could answer, Tony’s cell rang. Everyone went deadly silent. You could feel the blood draining from your face as Tony brought the device up to his ear, his face severe.

Your fingers curled into fists. Your blood ran cold, colder than you’d ever felt as you watched Tony’s face tighten. 

The first thought to enter your mind was Loki’s wellbeing. 

Please tell me he’s fine.

Tony hummed and hung up. “Suit up,” he said, his tone deadly, “Loki’s opened up the portal. They’re dropping armed Chitauri in the streets.”

The entire living room activated, as if everyone around you had just been waiting for Tony to give the heads up. Nat launched off the couch, running upstairs to get her suit, followed my Steve and Clint - which yes, they’d manage to save between all this time.

Tony turned into the kitchen, mumbling to JARVIS.

Only Thor and your brother remained in the living room, hard like statues, their eyes emotionless.

“Who’s gonna babysit, huh?” you mumbled, but your words felt like ash on your tongue. 

“I wager I should stay,” the God of Thunder said, pointing to you. “After all, my brother will attempt to get her out of here before he obliterates the planet.”

The soulmate bond would not let him leave you here to die.

Bruce shook his head, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “She’s my sister,” he said. “And you’re more needed than me on the battlefield.”

You frowned, anger and heat crawling up your chest like sour vines. “Bruce, if he gets here and you’re the one standing between him and me, he will go through you,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I can take him,” Bruce shot back. “And Thor will man the streets with the rest of the team. No one is going to take this planet and no one is going to take my sister! And until Loki is either dead or locked up until the end of your days, I will never allow you out of my sight!”

Thor knew better than to stay. He vanished from the living room even before Bruce had uttered the last words, either because of the look on your face or the privacy you and your brother needed.

Bruce had stood, towering over you, his face stricken with a mix of anger and annoyance, and you looked up at him from under your brows, heaving, feeling betrayal course through your veins. 

“Bruce,” you muttered, trying to keep a lid on your anger. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my fucking brother looking after me forever.”

Bruce’s lip twitched. “That’s what you made us all think,” he seethed. “That’s what we thought. That we could trust you. And then you literally betrayed us and went to him with arms wide open.”

“He’s my soulmate, Bruce!”

“I don’t care!” At this point, your brother didn’t care that he was screaming and that Tony could hear him in the kitchen. “You’re a threat to yourself.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” you gritted from clenched teeth.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “I told you the bond is different for men,” he said. “He doesn’t care about love or passion or whatever he made you think! It’s about possession, owning what is meant to be his! And with Loki, there is no possible way the bond could be -”

“You don’t know that!” Now it was your turn to stand, facing your brother like you’d done so many times as kids, but this time, it was for something a little more severe. “You say all that shit about the bond for men but you don’t even know yours! You stopped yourself from knowing her because of the shit you did to yourself!”

You regretted the words before they left your mouth, but anger had made you open up your lips and spill anything hateful that would deter your brother. And it did. It so fucking did. His face fell from that angered scrunch to something more tragic, tormented. 

Bruce had always counted on you to understand that the Hulk was not - absolutely not - Bruce. 

And there you’d been, accusing him of creating this monster he hated so much.

Bruce took a step back, his eyes falling to the ground. “If you leave this house, I will not hesitate to use force.” And then he plopped himself on the couch.

You looked up, seething, spotting Tony leaning against the door to the kitchen. He shrugged, jerking his head to the stairs, silently signaling that maybe you should retreat to your room.

Feeling like a child who hadn’t gotten what she wanted, you ran up to your room, crossing Steve in the hallway and not even bothering with wishing him luck. For all you cared at that moment, they could all burn.

You felt like your insides would fall out as you tumbled into your room, slamming and locking the door. You sat on the edge of the bed, holding a pillow to your belly, hoping the pressure would prevent your insides from spilling out.

What had you done? Why had you gone and said those things? The image of Bruce’s face falling, that look of utter bewilderment and betrayal passing across his features, haunted you. You rocked on the edge of your bed, feeling the tears brimming behind your eyes, an odd sort of pressure building in your head. 

You knew he was there before he even spoke. The air shifted, like a soft wind inside a glass jar, and the sound of fabric against fabric echoed in your otherwise dark room. 

“He’ll kill you,” you said, biting on the edge of the pillow to keep from sobbing.

“I am not really here,” he answered.

Relief and disappointment. They would not be able to hurt him if they caught him in here. He wouldn’t be able to actually touch you. 

“What do you want?” you uttered, still clutching the pillow, facing away from him.

“I can come and get you out of here,” he said, his voice calm, leveled.

You frowned. “You left me,” you whispered. “You fucking left me, Loki. You didn’t even try. And even if I wanted to go with you, my brother would rip you to pieces before you even set foot in here.”

You could sense Loki’s anger, rippling from him even in his illusion form. “You do not want to come with me?” His voice was rough, as if fighting to stay even. He was sad. 

You clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. “No.” Then you straightened. “No. Leave me alone. You’ve caused enough damage in under a month of being my soulmate. I don’t want to see you again. Now get the hell out of my room before my brother has me put in an actual cell.”

You never got an answer.

When you turned to see if he was still there, the air was empty, dark, silent, as if he’d never even been there to begin with.

DON’T WORRY! I KNOW WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING. I HAVE A PLAN ;)

tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor 

[scarofthewind]

Too Far || Slashers x Reader

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A/N: I had two requests that were kind of the same, which I will have below. Warnings, there is angst! Enjoy! 

Request 1 by @brideofcthulhu10 : Hey! First of all I wanna say I absolutely love your slasher fics, very detailed, you have a lot of talent! (I mostly dabble with Lost Boys on my blog!) Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I sent this yet, but I was wondering if you could do Brahms reacting to an S/O who's usually very patient with him crying because of an outburst? Like she's his caretaker who usually can handle his fits, but one day he goes too far screaming in her face, breaking things, and she just falls apart?

Request 2 by anon:  Hi!I was thinking of a request if you wanna do it ofc, with Michael Myers when he is stressed out about something and maybe neglects or takes it out on s/o and she gets reallyy sad and goes for a walk at 3am and he Wakes up and not seeing her makes him feel guilty and sad and starts getting a panick attack just when she is returning and comforts him,im sorry if I’m being so specific I just wanted super angst with fluffy ending with Michael being super needy 🥺 sorry if i bother you

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Brahms Heelshire:

You had never seen him so angry over something so small in the time that you’ve been with Brahms. Not even being able to recall what the fight was about, you stood there in the center of the room that had been utterly destroyed. The lamps that were on either side of the couch were beyond repair, the book case was tipped and all it’s remains were scattered on the floor and the glass topped coffee table had long been broken. Brahms circled you like a feral animal, the glare in his eyes made you look to the floor in fear. You jumped when you heard another object being broken behind you and a coaster went flying by your head from behind you, hitting the wall in front. The small dent in the wall from the coasters collision, reminded you just how strong Brahms was. 

“You can’t do anything right!” He shouted; the sound of glass crashing followed his words. “Why do I even bother keeping you’re pathetic ass around?!” He shoved past you, moving down the hall to grab the coatrack and throw it to the floor. One of the ends broke off and rolled towards you but you didn’t dare move, or even breathe. Your heart pounded ferociously against your chest and you wondered how you hadn’t had heart failures yet from all the stress he puts you through.

“Honestly, I should just get rid of you.” Brahms continued his rampage, breaking things and ripping paintings off the walls. You had become so numb to his usual rampages, that you were surprised when you found tears pooling out from your eyes at his words. Suddenly turning around, he walked over to you and you did your best to tune him out. His words cut like a knife and all you could do was stare forward and pray that this would all blow over. 

But even then, prayers have their limits. “Why can’t you understand that I can’t stand you? You’re nothing but a good fuck and that’s all you will ever be!” That was the icing on the cake. A gasp so silent, it cut through the quiet air, left your lips and that’s when Brahms realized exactly what he’d done. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and the anger was gone, replaced with a guilt and fear of abandonment. His hands moved to cup your face but you almost tripped moving back, his eyes widening at your actions. 

Everything he said was a lie; you both knew it, but he still thought them up somehow and felt like unloading them onto you in that moment. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Brahms felt sick watching as you backed away from him into the nearest corner he managed to maneuver you in. All the thoughts in his head came to one conclusion: There was nothing he could do or say in that given time that would make you want to stay. 

“Please, listen to me.” He begged, his eyes holding so much fear you almost didn’t recognize the man before you. Brahms reached out to you gently, touching your shoulders and then your neck and then your face. “I didn’t mean any of that. Please forgive me; don’t leave me.” 

Your throat was dry and you had nothing to say, all you could do was stare. “I love you, baby, please talk to me.” You felt his thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks and his lips pressed kisses to your forehead. Brahms knew exactly how much he had fucked up and the guilt and shame were eating him alive. “My god, what have I done?” You tensed as he pulled you into a tight and possessive hug. Your arms stayed by your sides, not moving an inch as the words and his face full of anger, kept replaying in your head. “Don’t leave me okay? I can fix this; I’ll fix it, I swear, my love.”

Meaningless. Everything felt meaningless.

But you had nowhere to go and you loved this man, even with all his issues. So, you swallowed any pride you had left and hugged him back, hearing him sob just a bit as he swore up and down that you wouldn’t regret it. 

Michael Myers:

You couldn’t remember how you managed to get out of Michael’s grip while he was sleeping, but somehow you ended up outside in the freezing cold of night, walking down the sidewalk. You had managed to snag one of Michael’s jackets on your way out the door and thanked god it covered you well enough. 

It wasn’t like you and Michael didn’t fight; you did, a lot. Tonight’s was just different and hurt you in more ways than you thought possible. 

“Can’t you fucking leave me alone for once?” Michael’s voice was harsh as he moved away from your hands that were on his back. You realized he’d been under a lot of stress lately and he hadn’t really been himself; you were only trying to help ease the tension.

“Sometimes I really hate you and I think ‘why in the world, did I end up with her?’.” You remember that being the moment your heart sank to your stomach. The cold glare in his eyes was real, not like all the other times he’s done it. 

The moon made your shadow look odd as you watched the pavement before you, every now and then glancing around to see if anyone else was up. Your already puffy eyes burned with the feeling of tears again and you managed to choke them down. “I should’ve let your father kill you. I would be a free man right now.” 

You made your way around the block, making your way back home. “The only time you’re worth it is when your warming my cock.” You stopped, having arrived back at the front door. Your fingers twitched at the doorknob and you wondered if it was really a good idea to go back in. Michael had apologized after the fight and resulted in him not letting you out of an arm’s reach. But still. Was it worth it?

The second you opened the door, the air felt wrong. Shutting it behind you and taking your coat off, you realized why. Everything was torn apart. The furniture was all over the place and some pieces were broken, the TV was shattered and various pictures on the walls were on the ground. Loud sounds of footsteps came from upstairs when you shut the door and Michael practically tackled you. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The man who put on a ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act was now trembling in your arms, pulling you closer to him with each passing second. “Michael.” You said calmly, gently stroking his back with your hands. You heard him sniffle and your made a mental note to remember this moment. 

“Look at me.” Your voice was calming and you were there. You didn’t leave him like he thought. His eyes met yours and you reached up and brushed his tears away, moving his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He shook his head, his mouth too dry to speak from all the yelling he did while you were out on a walk. He’d woken up to your side of the bed cold as ice and all he could think was that you finally left him. He tore the house apart looking for you and when he couldn’t find you, he broke. This mountain of a man who hates showing one ounce of actual emotion, broke. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me why the house looks like this?” You asked him, being very careful with your words as his hands once again pulled you against him. 

“I-I was looking for you. I thought you left me.” His body shook as though the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. “You aren’t leaving me right?” His voice was so weak it was hard to remember what this man was actual capable of. 

“Of course not, Michael. I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.” You cooed, peppering kisses along his jaw and chin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, nuzzling your face under his chin and letting him hold you close. 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean any-” You shushed him, wrapping our arms around his back. 

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Your words were music to his ears and he pulled back enough to bend down and press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can clean this up in the morning.” You told him as your lips parted; you led him upstairs and to your bedroom, not leaving his arms for the rest of the night. 

[ifmywishescametrue]

Hi!!! First of all, I am like🥺 such a fan of everything you write! And so I saw that you’re taking prompts and thought I’d try my luck. So, if you’re inspired of course, maybe you would do “I’m not leaving” or “I’m glad you’re here” (or literally any prompt from that list bc they’re all just🥺🥺) for Steve/Tony? Oh, and as a fellow Swiftie, I hope you’re ready for the Fearless re-release tomorrow !!!🤯 bc I’m looking forward to crying my way through this weekend🥲🥰🥺💖💞

hi!!! thank you so much, and I’m so sorry this took so long! but i also managed to put both prompts into it so hopefully that makes up for it lol. also the fearless re-recordings are so insanely good and the vault songs are god tier!!

Tony has a vision in his mind for the day he graduates from college. It’s been there since he was just a kid and the furthest ahead he could imagine for himself was that day. At the time it seemed like a hundred years away, and it carried an allure of freedom that was nearly unfathomable back then. 

He always thought Ana and Jarvis would be there, sitting next to his mom. Howard came and went from the vision, because sometimes Tony would dream that it would be the day he was finally proud of him and sometimes he would be out of Tony’s life completely by then. When Steve comes into his life in middle school, new to California from Brooklyn, he gets added to that vision, too. 

The reality ends up disappointing. 

It’s been a few months since Jarvis passed, a couple of years since his parents died, and even longer since Ana’s death, but it hurts a little more today. All of the empty seats make Tony’s chest ache. Steve’s absence makes it even worse, even if he understands it. It’s not the first time the army made him miss something big, and Tony knows it won’t be the last. At least he’d been apologetic on the phone. A little sad, even, which made Tony feel worse for it. 

After the ceremony ends, Rhodey slings his arm around his shoulder and Pepper walks on his other side. 

“Just once I wish they’d pick someone actually good to speak at these things,” Rhodey complains. “That was so cheesy.”

“You mean you aren’t excited for the first day of the rest of our lives?” Pepper teases. 

Tony laughs, “I thought the real low point was that joke he tried to make in the middle. Not too inspiring to imply that our degrees are essentially useless.”

“No, I love knowing that I’ve wasted the last four years.”

Rhodey hums, “Also wish he was a little more wrong about that.”

Rhodey’s family starts to call his name, waving enthusiastically from where the large group of them is huddled together. Pepper’s parents stand with them, looking so clearly like the odd ones out that it makes Tony grin. 

“I see your families are getting along just fine,” Tony says, watching Pepper’s mom bounce one of Rhodey’s cousins in her arms. 

“They’ve joined forces to nag us to death about getting married,” Pepper sighs, but there’s a fond smile on her face that betrays her. 

“Trying to get you to set a date?”

Rhodey grins, “Trying to get me to propose, actually.”

“You proposed last month,” Tony frowns and looks down at her left hand, which is surprisingly bare. “I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?”

Pepper pulls her necklace out from where it was hidden beneath her collar. The ring sits on a delicate silver chain, diamond glittering in the sunlight for just a moment before she tucks it away again. She puts her index finger to her lips to tell him to keep it quiet, and Tony laughs. 

“What did your innocent families do to deserve this?”

“There are no innocents in our families,” Rhodey says seriously. “We’re just buying ourselves some time until nagging me into proposing turns into everybody trying to plan our wedding for us.”

“My mother has terrible taste,” Pepper adds.

Waving from their families has turned into walking their way, and Tony gets sucked into the fold along with the two of them. He means to slip away after a few minutes, but no one lets that happen. Rhodey’s mom hugs him tightly and tells him he needs to eat more, followed immediately by how proud she is, and his cheeks turn pink under her attention. Somehow she wrangles him into joining them for the celebration dinner, but he can’t say that he minds much when he’s sitting with all of them. The laughter and stories take his mind off the melancholy feeling that’s been following him around lately, and it isn’t until he’s back in his quiet apartment much later in the day that he thinks about it again. 

His hand twists into the chain around his neck, dog tags clinking together. They’re the first ones Steve got, back when he was newly enlisted after high school, and the letters are worn down beneath Tony’s thumb as he traces the shape of Steve’s name. He remembers that first time Steve put them around his neck and told him to keep them safe while he was gone. It was a promise to come back, and on the worst nights they’re both a comfort and a curse. 

Leaning back against the closed door, he looks at the messy room in front of him. Finals week left him with little time for anything other than studying, and that coupled with his existing propensity for disorder, it looks a bit like a smaller tornado crossed through the apartment. Mugs stained with brown rings on the inside litter the coffee table, accompanied by pages of notes, pens, and uncapped highlighters. The blanket has fallen into a crumpled pile on the floor, and Tony is contemplating if he has the will to clean it all up when there’s a knock right behind his head. 

He assumes it’s Rhodey and Pepper, here to decompress after finally untangling themselves from their families, and he turns around to open the door with a light-hearted remark already on his lips. Whatever it was leaves his mind immediately at what he finds instead.

“Hey, baby,” Steve smiles. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Tony means to say something in return, but all that he actually manages is a choked out sob. He doesn’t fully realize he’s crying until Steve’s hands are on his cheeks to brush away the tears. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and Tony clutches at every part of him that he can reach. He grips the rough fabric of the fatigues, clings to his arms and shoulders and back, and he can’t possibly get close enough. 

“You’re here,” Tony whispers when he eventually finds his breath again. “You’re here, you’re actually here.”

Steve’s hand strokes through his hair, and his other hand is holding on to Tony just as tight as Tony is holding on to him. “I’m here, baby.”

He isn’t sure how long they stand there like that, swaying slightly as they hang on to each other, but it must be quite a long while before he can let go again. Even then, though, he doesn’t let Steve go very far. They fall onto the couch in one tangled mess of limbs. Tony puts his chin on Steve’s chest to look at him, and Steve looks back with a soft smile that almost makes him want to cry again. There’s a small, faded scratch on Steve’s cheek that wasn’t there before, and Tony reaches out to trace it with the tip of his finger. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Tony says quietly, like if he speaks any louder, the lovely little bubble they’re in will break. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” Steve says again. “I really tried, but -”

Tony interrupts him with a shake of his head, “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

“I’ll be here for a while, I promise.”

Tony smiles, but there’s a dull, familiar ache in his chest at the thought that it will eventually come to end anyway. “How long do I have you for?”

Instead of answering, Steve shuffles a bit beneath him, hand worming its way into his pocket. He pulls out a folded paper and hands it to Tony, expression unreadable. Tony sits up a little to read it, and by the time he’s finished reading every single line to make sure it’s real, his hand is shaking. 

“You - you’re - discharged?” Tony stammers out. “You’re done?”

Steve nods, grin slowly forming as he watches Tony process it. “Was sort of hoping that might make up for missing the ceremony this morning.”

Tony laughs, light and carefree in a way that he hasn’t felt in four years. He kisses Steve with everything he has, paper crinkling between them, and between one kiss and the next, Steve reassures, “I’m not leaving, sweetheart. Never leaving again.”