#this has probably taken up too much space so. ending this off by saying that the answer origin story featuring the riddler and scarecrow m-

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

[enigmatic-enigmas]

Reference for Elliot Mortimer and his villainous alter ego, the Answer!

(Will ramble more about it in the tags or something.)

[tojisun]

“ghost,” price’s voice rumbles in his ear, the faint static almost breaking through his focus. there’s a familiar cadence in his captain’s voice, one that drags against simon’s body in miasmic waves—it is, after all, nothing short of a warning. still, none of it matters, and simon continues to march on.

“the mission–”

“stopped being my priority,” simon replies, cutting him off.

there was nothing but a crackle. a quiet whirring. then, “you know this is not what they would want.”

he grunts. “good thing they’re not here then.”

simon slinks into the shadows, ducking underneath the balcony, his eyes frantic as he scans the parameters. it’s safe. quiet. too quiet, in fact.

“location?”

“south of the chapel,” gaz replies with no hesitation. simon hums to himself—price must’ve shifted his directives too, then.

“roger.”

he moves, his boots crunching against the gravel and filling up the dead passage way with just enough noise. there’s still a whole lot of suspicious inactivity, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, but he doesn’t get to dwell on the thought anymore. not when a loud bang rips through the silence.

his breath stutters, mind racing—that sound came from the shed.

his legs tense, muscles rippling.

“shots fired!” he reports before he leaps, devouring the vast space between himself and the sounds of scuffling. prayers form on the tip of his tongue, racing down his throat like scalding water.

he’s not even a religious man, but dear gods–

simon passes around the chapel, eyes cataloguing the lit rooms inside what he was told to be a desolate building, before tearing through the wooded shed. he knows he should’ve searched the area for any threat, should’ve probably waited for backup, but simon’s been running on overdrive, his emotions piling. spilling.

he tears the door open, guns poised for easy aim. only–

simon’s body buckles, throat constricting with the words he wishes he can say. but there is nothing else to be said. nothing but thank you’s.

because there, standing in the middle of the chaos, bloody and wounded and banged up to hell, is you. you weren’t even taken for that long but look how much they did to you. they hurt you.

your feet are soaked with blood, your boots and socks having been stripped off of you as though a part of their attempts at making you incapable of leaving. your face is swollen. marked up. cuts trace from the angle of your jaw to the side of your temple, leaving blood to trickle down to your neck, staining your tee. the gash doesn’t look deep, but maybe that’s all the blood covering the actual extents.

simon forces himself to breathe. to stay still.

(everyone has their own triggers, that’s what they were first told when laswell brought you to them.

“remember theirs and be careful,” she said before a pleased smile tugged at her lips. “mommy’s bringing home a new littermate. aren’t you all glad?”

the meeting ended there, just as johnny opened his mouth to complain. price passed around your file and simon memorized every line that night—your tell, your preferred gun, your morning beat.

somehow, he thinks that maybe that night was when his devotion to you started.)

simon watches—he’s always been watching you since the day that you arrived—as you compose yourself. the m9 is still gripped so tightly in your trembling fist, the metal quietly creaking at the pressure. it fills up the space in tandem with your ragged breaths, and he knows you’re still there, trapped in the depths of your mind.

alone. angry. scared.

“status?” price asks.

simon licks his lips. “unstable.”

he hears the faint crackle of johnny cursing from the other end of the line, and simon gets him. he really does. but he thinks they also just don’t understand.

you’re here. alone. alive.

your spiral is just proof of that. proof that even in your loneliness, amidst the pain, you clawed your way to survival.

simon hopes you two were back home—the barracks have been home for years now—so he can reward you. sweetly. fully. you deserve all that and more. deserve to be devoted on. to be adored. to be revered.

you were always beautiful, of course, but there is something sacred in seeing you like this: bloodied, angered, victorious.

he prays that your wounds will turn to scars, if only to give him a map of where to press his kisses from now on.

“ghost?” you finally mutter, and it tears simon from his thoughts. your voice is a weak rasp, like you’ve been parched for eons, and despite that, it spills the tension from simon’s body, his muscles loosening up at finally seeing you return to the topside.

he wants to say your name. he wants to sound it out—aren’t names made to be chanted like prayers, anyway?—but he reels himself in and mutters your callsign instead. the name tumbles from his mouth with the desperation and the worry smothered under the guise of grace.

your lips twitch up in an attempt at a smile. they don’t really get to make it much because of the gash running down the corner of your mouth. still, it makes simon stumble over his feet until he is rushing past corpses and sliding into your space.

“can i–”

he doesn’t even get to finish asking before you’re falling into his arms, tucking in your bruised face carefully on the crook of his neck. he takes your bulk in his embrace, folding you to himself, before he rests his chin on the top of your head.

you fist at his vest, your other hand still tight on the m9, and simon can’t really blame you. even he still feels exposed to any danger from in and out of this shed even when you’ve taken out all of the enemies. so he holds you close and holds you tight, knowing every second is sacred.

he breathes you in, taking in the scent of the leather, gun powder, and iron. it all feels familiar to him; it all smells like you.

simon nuzzles the smooth part of his mask over your temple. then, “let’s go home?”

you shift until you’re peering up at him, and simon takes this as the chance to catalogue the extent of your wounds. his lips purse at finally seeing the gash; you would probably need stitches.

“okay,” you finally reply. your eyes wrinkle as you attempt to smile. “thanks for comin’ back f’r me.”

“always,” simon murmurs, feeling choked up as his exhaustion finally catches up on him. “y’know that, right?”

you hum, nodding, and that was that.

[artists-ally]

{Fake It Like You Love Me} Azriel x Reader x Xaden Riorson x Cassian

*slowly creeps up from the depths of hell* Heeeeeeeey, glad you guys remember I still exist 😭😭 First off, THANK YOU for 600 followers. That's insane and I don't deserve you all so thank you so fucking much. SECONDDDD, here is another part of my Fuck Away The Pain series!! Sorry this has taken me so long to do, but I think you for your patience. As always, let me know what you think and feel free to drop a request if you have any!!! Enjoy! Title and series inspired by this song.

Part 1: {Show Me Where It Hurts} Part 2: {Dirty Little Curse} these do not need to be read in order to be enjoyed!

Word Count: 7,630

Warnings: Smut. Like... an alarming amount of smut. ACOTAR x FOURTH WING, Dom/Sub, MMMF, use of the nicknames "pet" and "sir", oral (M and F receiving), pet play, degrading, praise kink, choking, spanking, cum eating, unprotected sex.

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain @thelov3lybookworm @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @agent-anna @blessthepizzaman @bubybubsters @highladyofterrasen7 @annabethgranger123 @acourtofbatboydreams @thatacotargirl @berryzxx @throneofsmut

Summary: It is just after the legendary snowball fight. Azriel, Cassian, Rhys and Xaden are in the sauna while you, Mor, and Feyre are inside the cabin. Once Rhys leaves, it seems that there is a vacant spot that needs to be filled.

~~~~~

“So, explain this to me again?”

“Every year, they have a snowball fight. They just keep going and going and going until there’s a winner,” Feyre explains. “This is the first time you and Xaden are here so I think they’re taking it easy.”

From off to the side of the cabin, we hear a shout and then a chorus of laughter. 

“Maybe not,” Mor says, peeking out the window. “Cassian just decked Riorson in the face.”

I giggled, sipping my warm tea and curling my legs under myself. “Probably made fun of Cassian’s hair or something. Called him a wet dog.”

“You know damn well that animal will come in here and shake like one too.”

“And after the sauna? Yuck, it’s going to smell for ages in here,” Mor shakes her head.

“The sauna?”

Both of them stop dead in their tracks, exchanging a knowing glance. Feyre looks at me with a twisted smirk. “You don’t know about the sauna?”

“Should I be afraid?” 

“Definitely,” Mor grins, setting down her cup. “After they get done, they all go into the sauna together.”

“Naked?” I dare to ask.

“Terribly so,” Feyre adds. “A few years ago, on my first trip to the cabin, I got Rhys kicked out because… well, he just couldn’t stop thinking of me.”

I damn near choked. Then I burst out laughing. I can imagine it. Rhys, Azriel and Cassian sitting in the sauna together. It must be some sort of rule they have. If one of them gets a little too hot and bothered, they’re out. But the thought of them all in there, Azriel and Xaden sweating… does some pretty magical things to my brain.

And the space between my thighs.

“Gods you are just as bad as they are, Yn,” Mor fake gags, coming to sit next to me. “Don’t get too excited. None of us have ever been in, and none of us ever will.”

“Really? That’s kind of shocking, honestly.” There hasn’t been one exception? “I know Cassian is a bit of a…”

“Male whore?” Mor fills in the blank. It makes me giggle. 

“I don’t quite know everyone well enough to make those assumptions, but Cassian definitely gives off a certain… aura.”

“Oh please, he’d take it as a compliment,” Mor smiles, playing with some of my loose hair. “But no, not even him. Now, what I cannot believe is how you ended up with both Az and Riorson. That is truly a work of art.”

I can’t help the smile that blooms onto my face. “Some are just more blessed than others.”

Feyre barks a laugh, “I’ll say. You got lucky with those two, you know.”

“I know. We’re not like– together together, but they take very good care of me. I honestly kind of like it. It's all the best parts of a relationship without having to worry about if everyone is getting enough attention. They give me what I need, and I give them what they need.”

“Have you ever asked for more? To be in a real relationship?” Mor asks, curiosity getting the best of her. Feyre smacks her in the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Don’t be insensitive,” the High Lady reprimands. 

“Don’t be silly,” I wave them off. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t think that’s what I want. Sure, being in love is great and all, but why complicate it? We work flawlessly together right now, why change? If either of them brings it up, I’ll be open to the idea. But for right now I’m thriving. They are far too generous anyway. They constantly bring me gifts or invite me out to dinner. They’re doing enough for me. Far more than enough.” “Not to mention the world's best sex,” Mor wiggled her eyebrows at me. “What’s it like with the two of them? Are the rumors of the Illyrian true? What about Xaden, is he packing too? Gods I bet he is, isn’t he? Now, I am the last Fae in Prythian who’d want to be taken by two males, but… for the both of them? I might reconsider. Tell me, does Az-”

“Cauldron boil me,” Feyre sighs. “I’m getting a drink.”

“Ooh! Will you bring me-”

“No,” Feyre scolds, heading into the kitchen.

“Crony bitch.”

“I heard that!” Feyre shouts from the other room. 

Mor and I share a laugh, snuggling in close together. “This is so fun.”

“Isn’t it?” Mor says, “You’re always welcome back, Yn. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Az so relaxed. He looks… happy. And I can’t vouch for Riorson but he looks like he needs this too.”

“Yeah it’s been a stressful couple weeks for Xaden. There was a huge issue in his homeland and he nearly lost his life. His dragon is bonded to someone else in his squad, and her dragon almost died. It was scary. I’m just glad he’s okay. On the flight up here he was giving me all his strategies on how he was going to win.” There’s a loud cackle from outside and the sound of bodies running into each other. I looked over the back of the couch, seeing Xaden at the bottom of the pile, snow being shoveled into his face. “Guess they didn’t work so well.”

“They’re probably done now,” Mor explains.

“Sauna time?”

“Sauna time.”

The door opens and the four males clamber in, shaking snow from their hair and clothes. 

“I’m gonna get you back for that Rhys,” Xaden grins, evil intent behind those onyx eyes. 

“I’d like to see you try. Hey Mor, hi Yn. Where’s Feyre?” Rhys pats the top of Mor’s head, offering me a kind smile. 

“In the kitchen!” She calls, the High Lord following the sound of her voice. 

Cassian makes a b-line for the couch, shaking his head like a mutt. Mor squeals, I just shut my eyes and take the damage. When I open them, he snickers and sits on the floor, sighing loudly. “And that makes 181 wins for yours truly.”

“Then he must have cheated,” Mor gags, wiping off Cassian’s grime with the bottom of her shirt. “For fucks sake Cass you stink.”

“I’m a hard working male,” he begs to differ.

“Only thing you’re working is gonna be my foot in your ass,” Mor chides, standing up. “I’m going to shower, I smell like a dog.”

“You wish you smelled as good as me. Sorry to catch you in the crossfire, Yn.”

“It’s all good,” I smile, rubbing the few drops I got off on my sleeve. 

But the look on Xaden’s face when he comes to sit next to me reflects anything but. He’s got a scowl directed at Cassian, but he makes quick work of masking it, planting a kiss on my cheek. A moment later, Azriel does the same thing. 

“Should you be sitting on the couch?” I ask. Xaden’s hair a soaking wet mess, his clothes more the same. 

“Trust me,” Azriel chimes in, “There have been far worse things on this couch.”

I blink at him, wondering if I would need to burn my clothes after this. He plops down next to me, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind my shoulders. 

Cassian looks between all three of us. Clearly seeing the size difference and taking notes about it. “I should probably keep my mouth shut.”

“That would be wise, brother,” Azriel grumbles, stretching out his legs. “Where's Rhys? Im fucking freezing and I wanna go in the sauna.”

“He’s in the kitchen with Feyre,” Mor said, rounding the corner from the washroom. She clearly didn’t shower, but she smelled much better. “And we all know what happened the last time the two of them were left alone here.”

“What happened?” Xaden and I asked at the same time. 

“Nothing,” Azriel, Cassian and Mor responded in unison. 

The dragon rider and I shared a look, a silent promise to ask Az about it later. We had a nice evening planned, dinner with everyone, and then they were going to let Az, Xaden and I spend the night in the cabin. We’ve never been here before today so it was a generous offer. I can tell how much this place means to all of them. 

No one needs a vivid imagination to get an idea of what’s going to happen later. 

“Fuck him,” Cassian pushes to his feet, binding his hair back with a strip of leather. “Come on, let's get started. He can decide later if he wants to join.”

Cassian and Xaden head out the door, but Az stays seated next to me. “Having fun?”

“Of course,” I reassured, patting his thigh. “Mor and Feyre are very kind. And this is a lovely cabin.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Looks like you two had a lot of fun,” I smile, resting my cheek on his damp shoulder. “You smell far better than Cassian.”

“Naturally,” Az smirked. “And yes we did. Xaden needed it, you needed it. It’s always just been the three of us every year, but it felt right to have Xaden here in the mix. You too, obviously.”

“Glad I could make the cut,” I joked, receiving a pinch on my ear. 

“Brat.”

“That’s not even close to me being a brat and you know it.” “Don’t I ever,” he grinned, covering my mouth with his. Despite the chill coming from his body, his lips were warm and soft. Full of life, vibrance, and need. “By the sound of it, Rhys won’t be joining us in the sauna. We won’t be in there long, will you bring us some towels around four?”

I looked at the analog on the wall, the hands reading 3:22pm. I nodded, “Sure.”

He curled my hair around his fingers before standing, following the other two outside. 

In the meantime, I hung out with Mor and we talked about random stuff. She tried to get more details about Az and Xaden, but I wasn’t willing to give them up. We played a few card games, had a snack and a glass of wine before she winnowed off the mountain and back to Velaris to meet some friends at Rita’s. 

Just as I was curling up with a book, I felt a cool whisper circle my wrist. A strand of Azriel’s shadow wrapped around and around in a never ending bracelet. I smiled, looking at the clock. Just seven past four. I head for the closet, grabbing three thick, soft tan towels. 

Damn, it's cold out here. How do they not freeze to death? I carefully step in their footsteps so my toes don’t get frozen off. There is a little stone path to the sauna and I gladly jump from stone to stone. With the towels under my arm, I knock on the door. 

“I brought your towels, they’ll be out here on this chest,” I shouted, unsure if they’d be able to hear me through the thick wood paneling. There was a small jut out from the roof over the door, ensuring they wouldn’t get covered with snow.

“Will you bring them in?” Xaden calls.

I skidded to a halt, damn near knocking myself over. Did he just say what I think he said? “I thought no females were allowed in the sauna?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassian’s voice boomed. “We just need the towels so our bits don’t freeze off. You can close your eyes if you’re scared.”

Scared? I wasn’t scared, but I didn’t particularly care to see Cassian sprawled out with all his glory on display. Well, okay that's a complete lie. Ever since I first saw the Lord of Bloodshed, I thought he was… well… hot. He’s tall, all thick muscle and confidence. He knows he’s hot shit. I’d imagine if he were a closer friend that confidence might piss me off, but I think he’s funny. He knows what he’s got and he’s not afraid to show it. 

“Are you going to bring them or not?” Xaden shouts.

Oh. Right. The towels. 

I take a steadying breath and push open the door. A wave of humid, damp air blasts me in the face, instantly melting the flecks of snow on my hair and lashes. There isn’t a light save for a few windows to let some ventilation in. It's dark, but I can make out the three figures. Azriel and Xaden are to the left, and Cassian is to the right. 

I keep my eyes on my boys and place towels in Xadens open arms. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Of course,” I smile, carefully avoiding any glimpses of Cassian in my peripherals. Just before I can reach the safety of the outdoors, Azriel’s hand wraps around my wrist, gently tugging me in front of him. His other hand curls around my hip, pinning me still. “Yes, my shadow?”

He all but purrs at the nickname. “Stay.”

Stay. Stay? As in… in here? With him and Xaden and Cassian? “You guys enjoy your time together.”

I tried to take another step, but he sat up, gripping my body to keep it positioned between his powerful legs. I trailed my eyes down his torso, seeing a bit of a surprise waiting for me. “I told you to stay.”

Heat flooded my body, a different heat than the one coursing through the sauna. I quickly glance at Xaden to see him exchanging a glance with Cassian across the way.

“I- I wouldn’t want to kick Cassian out just because you want me, Az. That’s rude,” I say, my breath hitching when he slides his hands under my thick wool sweater. He rakes his nails down my back and I momentarily forget that there is a third set of eyes watching. 

“I don’t think Cassian would mind the show, would you, Cass?” Azriel looks around my torso at the Illyrian, and I have to force myself not to do the same. 

There isn’t a verbal response from him. 

Az roughly grips my hips, forcing me to sit down in his lap. His mouth attaches to mine before I can make a sound. I flinch momentarily when he bites down on my lip, his pace fast and aggressive. The sauna is silent save for the sound of our lips meeting. 

Sweat begins to swell around my hairline, trickling down the back of my neck. He removes my sweater and tosses it towards the open door. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the hot air coats my bare back. Azriel breaks the kiss, latching onto my neck and collar bone. 

“Az,” I say, already breathless. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“Are you telling me that you’ve never thought about Cassian before?”

Shit. SHIT.

“I- well I didn’t- not in the way you think I would’ve I was just-”

“That certainly didn’t sound like a no, Yn,” Azriel looks up at me, a knowing glint in his eye. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I- I didn’t think… I would’ve never thought that-”

“You have five seconds to tell me to stop. One.”

“Azriel I-”

“Two.” He pushes me back to my feet. 

My knees buckle and it’s an effort to keep myself upright in the sweltering humidity. “Why would I have thought that you and Xaden would want-”

“Three.” He stands, towering over me.

I huff in annoyance. “Azriel, stop counting-”

“Four.” Az makes me take two steps back, advancing on me.

“Xaden will you please fucking-”

“Five.” His fingers wrap around my throat and push me back. Directly into Cassian. A second set of hands find their way onto my body. Cassian grips my hips, keeping me from falling. I am deathly still. I hardly breathe. I don’t dare make a noise. “You’d like it if Cassian joined, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t respond. 

“She looks petrified,” Xaden points out very matter-of-factly. 

“I like it when she’s scared, she obeys when she is. Isn’t that right pet?” 

One word. One stupid nickname and I’m under his spell. Fuck, of course I want Cassian to join. I haven’t ever seen him without clothes, but he doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “I- I umm-”

“Just admit it and I’ll let you go,” Azriel demands, tightening his fingers for emphasis. It’s nowhere near a dangerous amount, but it makes my breath hitch.

“Yes yes,” I rush out, senses on fire. 

“Yes what, pet? Come on, you know the rules. If you want Cass to join you have to tell him.”

Azriel releases me, and if it weren’t for Cassian holding me up, I would’ve keeled over. The combination of the restricted airflow and the density of the heat in the sauna was going to make a lethal combo. 

And I craved it. 

I quickly slipped under, fully ready to play with the three of them. I gently turn and look down at Cassian. His bronze skin is shining with sweat, hair still bound behind his head. I take a deep breath, swallowing. “Would you like to play with us, Cassian?”

His eyes dilate, tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips. “I thought you’d never ask, darling.”

Relief floods me and I smile. I am so thrilled he said yes. I look over at Az and Xaden, waiting for their command. I desperately need them to tell me what to do. This is already so overwhelming in the best way possible. 

“Why don’t you be a good girl and welcome Cassian, okay?”

I don’t need to be told twice. Like he knows what I was thinking, his knees spread apart, inviting me in. I sink down to the floor and stare up at him through my wet lashes. “Messy or clean?”

A grin spreads across the Illyrians mouth. “Oh, she’s good. Messy, darling. I want to see you ruined.”

Cassian’s finger separated my lips and I sucked on his thumb. He pressed down on my tongue, and I swirled it around his digit. Meanwhile, his other hand fisted himself, and I couldn’t help but take a glance. 

Cauldron boil me alive–

I delicately reach a hand out and replace mine with his. The warrior's head falls back and he shuts his eyes. My hand is so much smaller than… well, every part of him. I stroke up and down, gently thumbing the small slit at the tip. A few drops slide down onto my finger and I generously lick them off. He definitely tastes similar to Az, but nothing like Xaden. 

The moment my tongue circles him, he cuts loose a moan deep from his chest. 

“Fuck you’re so warm,” Cassian lifts his head, taking in the sight of me taking him in. I swallow around him, drawing more sounds out of him. 

“I think what makes it so good is she loves doing it. Don’t you, Yn? You love being stuffed full,” Azriel comes up behind me, his presence stealing my breath away. Maybe it’s the added heat that makes my head dizzy. “That’s right, work him all the way down. Get him nice and deep.”

I push and push my head all the way down his cock, taking a moment to stay still, just emphasizing exactly what I can do. Cassian laughs at me, full on laughs. A mocking sort of sound that spreads goosebumps all across my skin. He bucks his hips, really testing how far he can push me. 

“Oh, she’s good,” he grunts, head tipping back again. “Keep that perfect mouth moving, darling.”

My ears are ringing a little. Whether that be from the heat or the sheer overstimulation, it’s hard to tell, but I didn’t react right away. The next thing I knew, one of Azriel’s hands was fisting my hair, the other braced at the back of my head. I nearly choked when I was ripped away and then slammed down onto his cock a few times. 

“You heard him, Yn. Take his cock like the good slut you are,” Azriel reprimanded. He continued to overpower me, making me work up and down on Cassian. I let my jaw go slack, along with my hands braced on Cassian’s thighs. I let out a content sigh as I was fucked on Cassian’s cock. 

I rocked with Azriels movements. His grip singed my scalp and an ache formed in my jaw. It was familiar, ignorable, but present nonetheless. I was glad to have them doing all the work, it was far too hot in here to think clearly… even without the added exertion.

When Az decided I got the memo, he let go of my head and I continued the motions with steady practice. I closed my eyes, feeling every drop of sweat on my body. My thick, fleece lined leggings were beginning to soak through. Xaden’s calloused hands found their way to my waste and began to slide them off. With a pop, I pulled off of Cassian, giving my jaw a much needed break. Xaden peeled them from my legs, taking my underwear with them. But, before he let me sit back down, he laid down on his back, beckoning me to ease on top of him. 

“Surely you’ll suffocate, it’s already unbearably hot in here,” I huff, catching my breath. 

“Then I shall go doing what I love most,” the dragon rider replies. “Sit.”

I looked to Az, silently asking if this really was a smart decision. He just gave me a pointed nod with narrow eyes, a promise that if I didn’t listen he’d make working for my release miserable. So I obeyed without a second thought. 

The moment his tongue curled into me, I sighed. Aimlessly, my hand worked tentatively up and down Cassian’s shaft, drawing a few sounds out of the General. “Let me fuck your throat, darling.”

There must’ve been a sparkle in my eye because I grinned, opening wide for him to do so. His length was thick. Almost too thick. And long. Fucks sake everything about him was big. I was up for the challenge. As it hit the back of my throat, I relaxed, letting his hands fall around my ears. It was gentle at first, his thrusts long and even. I moaned in tandem with the licks I was receiving from Xaden, my mind a melted, scrambled mess of ecstasy. With a particularly hard suck on my clit, I jerked the opposite way Cassian was going.

“Ah ah ah,” he chided, clicking his tongue. “You don’t get to run away from me. Take what you’ve been given. Be a good fucking girl, Yn.”

I glance up at him, throat too full to make any noise. A third set of hands– Azriels, so experienced and commanding, settled on my breasts, plucking and pulling. I could feel everything and nothing at the same time. My entire body was numb with pleasure, numb with exploration of the three of them. 

Azriel. Xaden. Cassian. All three of them, the most powerful warriors of their respective worlds, all focused on one thing. One goal. 

Me. 

Cassian picked up his pace, the thrusts less deep, but far more firm. It was clear he was chasing his high, thick veins beginning to bulge in his arms… up his chest… in the column of his throat. 

“She does such a good job at taking it,” Cassian praises. “Doesn’t gag, doesn’t complain. Look at all those pretty tears. All for me, darling? Do I fuck you so good you need to cry? It’s okay, I’ll lick them clean. Then make them spill down your neck again when I get to fuck your pussy.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, thighs shaking with the force of Xaden’s tongue against my core. I writhed my hips, breathing harshly through my nose every other thrust because that’s all Cass would allow. At some point Azriel’s hands left the mix. I couldn’t see him anywhere, but his presence remained. Those shadows replacing his skilled fingers. 

My body was wound tight. I was already anticipating a fun night with just Azriel and Xaden. But now? With Cassian? A new fire had been set ablaze inside me. And it needed– no, demanded, to be let out. I tried to warn Xaden, I tried to ask for permission, but I couldn’t with Cassian’s grip on my head. I fiercely moaned, hips shaking so badly that Xaden had to lock me in place. 

“You can let go,” Azriel commanded from somewhere behind me. I silently thanked him. 

Like a crack of lightning, my release barreled through me. I came so hard my vision whited out, a faint ringing bounding between my ears. Moans of pure pleasure spilled out of me and right onto Cassian. The extra vibrations must’ve done wonders from him because his grip faltered, as well as his pace. His head slumped forward and his eyes rolled shut. 

“Fuuuuck, whatever you’re doing to her, Riorson, you better not fucking stop. Keep her moaning like that. Fuck I’m gonna cum so hard. Want it, pretty pet? Want my cum down your throat, filling your belly?”

He released my head, bidding me to give a verbal answer. After what Xaden just did to me, I’m not sure that’s physically possible. “P-Please, sir” I sigh out, my voice in an atrocious state already. “Wanna make you feel so so good.”

The use of ‘sir’ must’ve really done something to him. He sat up, a corrupt, unforgiving smile creeping onto his cruel lips. “Sir? That’s a dangerous game, my darling.”

“She doesn’t mind a little bit of danger, does she?” Azriel grips my hair again, pulling my head back so I have to look up at him. I nod carefully, the strain in my neck almost too much. “Yes she does. Now get to it, I'm getting impatient.”

Bad things happen when Azriel is left uncared for. And who was I to make him suffer?

I stuck out my tongue, a silent beg for Cassian to slip back in. He did without further coercion. The first time my nose brushed the soft hair on his pelvis, I could’ve sworn it was an accident. The second time, I realized it wasn’t. I couldn’t breathe, a small panic settling in every crevice of my body. I tried to keep calm, but between a relentless Xaden under me and a ruthless Cassian in front, it was near impossible. 

“F-Fuck fuck fuck fuuuucccckkkk,” Cassian shouted, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen flexing. “Gonna take it all? It’s gonna be a lot, can you handle it, darling? Yeah I think you can. I’ll make you either way. Stay niiiiice and still for me- oh fuck-”

At the last second, he pulls me off about an inch and the humid, sweat filled scent of air floods into my nose. I drink his release down. It’s thick and warm, salty and abundant. I hum around him as I swallow and swallow and swallow. My eyes fill with tears yet again and they escape down my cheeks. 

Cassian shudders. With gentle laps of my tongue, I clean him up. He watches me attentively. I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips when our eyes meet. 

“You…” he breathes heavily, chest swelling and falling. “You are a little devil, aren’t you?”

The Illyrians hand wraps around my throat and he pulls me to my feet, and off of Xaden. The way our tongues met could’ve moved mountains. He was not shy in showing how much he wanted me. I melted into him, straddling his thigh and letting my arms drop to my sides. 

Azriel played with my hair, hands caressing my ass. Together, they brought me down, content to let me relax for a few minutes. 

“You did so well, pet,” Azriel cooed, dragging his tongue over the shell of my ear.

“So fucking good,” Cassian murmured against my lips. “Such a good little girl.”

I could hear Xaden climb to his feet, the sound of his hand stroking his cock loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I will never, ever, get tired of making her cum on my tongue.”

“Should I have a taste?” Cassian asked, placing small bites on my throat. 

“I actually had something else in mind,” I sighed out, getting lost in all the hands and tongues. He gave me a curious look, but I just smirked, easing onto shaking legs and turning around so my ass was in Cassian’s lap. “I want to play a game.”

“A game?” There is an obvious hint of danger in Cassian’s voice? “What kind of game?”

“I want you and Xaden to fuck me, and I want Azriel to tell you when to move and when to stop.”

I haven’t yet brought it up to Azriel and Xaden, but I’ve always wanted to do this. A game of red light green light. To give full control and power to him, making us work for our pleasure. I look at Azriel, gauging his response, but he just grabs my chin, bringing our faces level. 

“Yeah? You wanna play a game? Want to be treated like a literal pet? Taking commands and performing tricks?” His voice is thick with desire, so low only we could hear it. 

My heart skips a beat. I hadn’t thought about it like that before. But the idea is… it’s-

“Look at her face, Cass,” Xaden tilts his head mockingly. “She wants it so bad, don’t you, pretty girl? Would you like a collar, that way if you get lost they know who you fucking belong to? Gods she’s so red. Don’t be embarrassed, pet. We know just how much you love being fucked full of cock and cum.”

“Sit on his dick, Yn,” Azriel orders. “Now.”

Silently, I hover over his lap, letting Cassian guide my hips. At the first press of his tip, I gasp. A new thrill thrummed through me. 

Azriel comes and stands in front of me, cupping my cheeks. “I know he’s big, but you’re gonna take all of him. And you’re going to like it because you asked for it. So, here’s your first trick. Sit.” 

The Shadowsinger pushes on my shoulders, leaving no option but to take Cassian all the way. All. The. Way. My breath is lodged in my chest with no room to escape. I can’t think. Can’t hear. Can’t see. Can’t even begin to process what is about to happen. 

“Oh, good girl Yn,” Xaden praises, still stroking himself. “Look at how pretty she looks, Az.”

Cassian grunts behind me, hooking my legs over his knees so the others can see him buried inside me. I cry out at the shift, feeling him go deeper and deeper. Gods, he feels like he’s everywhere.

“Cassian, why don’t you play with her nipples,” Azriel instructs, walking back and forth in front of us. “Xaden, give her something to suck on.”

“With pleasure,” Xaden grins, those onyx eyes narrowing on my mouth. I go to protests, but then I realize just how hard he is. How flushed his skin is. And I need to taste it, to relieve him of his torture. 

He traces my lips with the tip, coating them in his slick. With a heady pant, I stick out my tongue to invite him in. 

A hand cracks down on my thigh. I scream out, more in shock than in actual pain. Azriel’s hand was the culprit. 

“Did I say you were allowed to taste it yet?” His eyes are swirling with lethality. I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something stupid. “Well?”

“N-No,” I say meekly. “I’m sorry. May I taste it, Az? Can I please taste Xaden?”

After a minute of letting the question hang in the air, building suspense, he nods. Greedily, I take Xadens hips and bring his cock towards my mouth. 

It’s such a glorious sound to hear when Xaden curses low. A deep rumble in his chest letting me know this is exactly what he needed. Without moving– fearful I’ll get another smack– I look at Az, awaiting my next instruction. 

“Fuck her throat, Xaden,” Az says, eyes scanning out bodies. “Start fucking her nice and slow Cassian. Really savor her, make her moan just like Xaden did for you.”

At the same time, both of their bodies start sliding in and out of me. They find a rhythm instantly: Cassian fucks me forward onto Xaden, and Xaden fucks me back onto Cassian. It’s easy enough to let them do all the work, my bones and liquid at this point anyway. All I know is pain, pleasure, and unfiltered need for these males. 

I moan deeply as Cassian hits that spot inside me. Xadens hip stutter, his head tipping back as Cassian hits it over and over again. 

“Does that feel good, Xaden?” Azriel asks, gripping his hair at the root, whispering right in his ear. “To have our girls' mouths all around you?”

The dragon rider nods as best he can with Azriel’s grip. “Fuck yes.”

“Make her stop.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I told you to. Yn, stop,” Azriel demands. I instantly pull my mouth away from Xaden, even if it makes me want to scream and thrash and beg for it back. I need it, need to taste it, need to feel him cum down my throat. “See, she listens to me. Do I need to punish you too?”

“No,” Xaden shakes his head. “I’ll listen.”

“Yes you will.” Azriel gives a fake smile. “On your knees.”

Xaden sinks to his knees. 

“Suck on Yn’s clit. Make her cum on Cassian’s cock.”

The sight of Xaden, on his knees, cock leaking continuously, does something to me. It gives me ideas for later. He helps push open my legs, even when the first brush of his tongue makes me see stars. Cassian has to wind his arms around mine to keep me from sliding off. I know he’s strong, but to be able to hold me still and keep fucking me is…

“Good boy, Xaden,” Azriel praises, brushing his hair away from his face. “Just like that, make our pretty girl cum.”

It’s not going to take long. His laps are so soft, so gentle, and it works far faster than I’d like to admit. 

“Az- Az can I cum?” I ask, just to be cautious. I do not want to have this taken away from me. I can’t have it taken away from me. 

“Yes, pet. Cum as much as you want.”

It’s like music to my ears. It’s building and building. In my core, at the base of my spine. Behind my eyelids. It’s fucking everywhere. My vision goes white and an embarrassing noise tears from my soul. I writhe on Cassian, driving him further and further inside me. Sweat is dripping off me in buckets. Fuck it is so fucking hot in here.

“Very good Xaden,” Azriel says. “What a good boy, making our pet cum so well. You can stuff your cock back down her throat. She looked so sad to see it go. Go ahead and cum, fill her up nice and full. Cassian, get up.”

Suddenly I’m on my feet being steadied by several pairs of hands. The way Cassian is looking at me, the way he’s breathing, tells me I’m in trouble. The glances passed between Az and Cass worry me. The next thing I know I’m on my knees and elbows, ass up in the air.

“Sit on the floor, Xaden,” Azriel commands. “Right in front of Yn. Yup, there you go, now just let Cassian fuck her onto you.”

A shudder runs through my entire body when Cassian slips back in. I swiftly take Xaden down, mainly because if I don’t I’m going to go crazy. The delicious, sweet taste of him fills me once again and I hum in content. 

“Don’t hold back Cassian, chase exactly what you want. Fill up her pussy as much as you want, she can take it.”

“Fucking hell, Az. Are you trying to kill me?” Cassian chuckles, letting his motions pick up pace. Every snap of his body into mine sends waves of pleasure down my spine. It rolls through me and allows me to take even more of Xaden in my mouth. “I’ll never get over just how fucking tight she is.”

“Malek spare me…” Xaden curses. I get to watch Xaden fall apart and a new thrill fuels my motions. I lose all concept of time, I have no idea what is going on. All I know is Cass is fucking me like his life depends on it, and that Xaden is holding on for dear life. 

I suck as hard as I can, pressing my tongue into the bottom side of his cock. I can’t pay attention to the most sensitive areas of him, mainly because Cassian if fucking me too hard to let me. Hopefully I can make him see stars anyway. 

“F-Fuck Yn, I’m gonna cum,” he warns, knees falling open. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Give it to her, Xaden,” Azriel kneels beside Xaden, hand trailing over the muscles in his chest. 

I watch the muscles in his abdomen clench with every breath. He scrunches his eyes closed and I brace for him, letting his hips rut as fast as he wants. With a long, drawn out growl, Xaden releases down my throat. I do my best to swallow it all, but between the angle and Cassian's relentless thrusts, I let a few drops spill out. 

Xaden is throbbing on my tongue, his sounds of pure pleasure fill my ears, filling me with deep satisfaction. 

“Can’t fucking take it anymore,” Azriel rips me off of Xaden and takes his place. I’m hauled up onto my palms, Azriel’s cock bobbing in front of me. Before I can take it between my lips, Azriel bends down to my level, licking the droplets of Xadens cum off my lips. 

I went as still as a statue. Tingles spread from the tips of my fingers to my toes. I watched him swallow, his Adam's-apple bobbing. I was at a loss for words. If he wanted me to speak, it’d be impossible. 

Thankfully I didn’t have to. He filled my mouth, not wasting a second. 

“Xaden, will you go grab those towels?” Azriel asked, hands trailing over my shoulders. 

“When I can move,” he responded, making the Shadowsinger and the General laugh. I swore I could feel the rumble of his laughter through his cock. 

“Not gonna last much longer,” Cassian warns, adjusting his grip on my hips.

“Wait.” Azriel urges, “Give me one minute.”

Cassian stills, and I whine in discontent. A second later, his hand smacks my ass, undoubtedly leaving an imprint of his hand. “Don’t complain, pet. Or you won’t get anything at all. You should be grateful to be stuffed full of our cocks. That’s no way to disrespect a guest.”

Azriel is unforgiving as he fucks my throat, his pace fast and hard. To be fair, he has been waiting a long while for his turn. It doesn’t take long for him to start showing signs of nearing his high. He grabs both sides of my sweat-soaked head, and I feel drops from his own body–and Cassians–land on me. 

“Want my cum?” Azriel asks, pulling me off. “Want me to cum down your little throat, pet?”

“Yes yes yes,” I slur my words together. “Please gimme all of it, need all your cum. Wanna taste you so bad.”

“Yeah you fucking do,” Azriel’s grin is sinister. He knows exactly what to say to make me squirm. “Drink it all up, slut.”

When he finally gives me what I want, I don’t dare waste a drop. I leave no mess to clean up as he cums all the way down. There’s nothing I can do but swallow, swallow, swallow.

I begin to lose some consciousness, the heat and over exertion finally catching up to me. I feel Azriel slip out, praising me and telling me how good I did. I think I nod, but Cassian resumes his motion and I forget about everything. I can only focus on him pounding into my pussy, getting so deep I have to let out little noises every time he does. 

“She’s so fucked out,” Xaden says from… somewhere. 

“Yeah she is, she looks so good. Limp and used. So fucking hot, Yn,” Azriel agrees. 

I moan in response. It’s about all I’m capable of at this point. And it feels so good. Everything they did to me, every thrust from Cassian feels like I’m floating. I close my eyes and let him finish me. 

As Cassian lets go, I feel him pin my shoulders to the ground, ramming his hips as hard as he can into me, filling me up nice and tight full of his cum. There's a big stretch, and then an almost immediate release. His warm slick flows out from around him and down the inside of my thigh. Tears or exhaustion and pleasure streak down my cheeks and fall onto the wood floor of the sauna.

Eventually, I’m laid on my back. I can barely open my eyes, but I feel a tongue lapping between my legs. I try to inch away, but firm hands keep me from closing my legs. I whine. 

“Ah ah,” I hear Cassian chide. “He’s just trying to clean you up. Be still. Here, drink this.”

A cup is pressed to my lips and I hungrily drink down. The salty, briny taste is washed from my tongue and my blurry vision begins to steady. I look down, seeing Xaden between my legs, his curly head soaked with sweat. 

Cassian’s thumb brushes my cheek, collecting a small tear. “Aww, poor baby.” I watch as he licks it from his digit. It… gets me going faster than I’d like to admit. Then his tongue trails the length of my cheek. I shudder, letting out a tiny squeak. “Told you I’d lick them clean.”

“Alright that's enough, Xaden,” Azriel says from up above. “Let’s get her inside and cool off.”

“I just couldn’t help it, her pussy looked so good full of cum,” Xaden winks at me, and I can feel a flush of my cheeks and neck. “Even after all we’ve done together, I still make you blush.”

“Zip it,” I glared at him, failing to keep my smile at bay. 

Cassian lifts me up, hugging me close to his chest. We’re all covered in sweat, but I don’t give a fuck. I just want to take a nice bath, curl up with my boys, and sleep into next week. A cold burst of air greets me as we step outside the sauna. 

“Is she doing okay?” Azriel asks. I think it’s him that brushes hair away from my face. 

“Mhm,” Cassian responds, giving my body a squeeze. “She's gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” Xaden added. “She always recovers really well. She’s not afraid to tell us what she needs. But by this point we know what she needs.”

“My only request is a bath.”

“See?” Xaden chuckles, then plants a kiss on my head. “Feeling okay? Not too lightheaded?”

I make a noise that sorta sounds like an ‘mhm’, but it kinda comes out as a garbled mess. All three of them give a laugh. 

“That was… more fun than I thought it was going to me,” Cassian sighed contently, padding down the hallway to one of the bedrooms. I'm set gently on the bed, propped up against Cassian. I am way too tired to open my eyes, but my ears track them all around the room. I can smell the soft lavender wafting from the bathroom. Hallelujah. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you joined,” Xaden agreed, his fingers beginning to braid sections of my hair. “We’re just waiting on the tub to fill up, pretty girl. Then we’ll get cleaned up and go to bed. You did such an amazing job, taking us all like that. And the game? We’re going to have some more fun with that, aren’t we?”

“Yes we are,” I nodded, peeking open my eyes to find them all huddled around me. Azriel smiles sweetly, cupping my face, stroking his thumb back and forth across my cheek. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he whispers. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I nod, clenching my hands to get some of the tingling to go away. “It was so hot in there.” 

“We even turned down the heat before you got in there,” Xaden explained, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Did you have fun?”

“I always do, did you?” I asked, looking up at Cassian.

“In the beginning I was a little unsure but… now I’m hoping you’ll send word any time you wanna play again,” He grins, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You were unbelievable.”

“Isn’t she something else?” Azriel looks at me fondly. “Baths ready, want to be by yourself or do you want one of us in there with you? Or… well, I guess we all can fit if that's what you want.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to wash my own hair,” I grin.

They all share a look, smiles creeping onto their mouths. 

“I’ll get the shampoo,” Azriel winks.

“I call the conditioner,” Xaden stands, following Azriel into the bathroom. 

I can’t help but laugh. 

“Are they always like this?” Cassian watches as they root around in a cabinet, smelling the different bottles. 

“Yes, they’re too kind to me.”

“I think it’s well earned,” he smiles, helping me stand. “Come on, let's go.”

I let him lead me in, making sure I get a good look at his ass. Damn. just… damn.  

“I could ask Feyre to commission a painting, it’ll last longer,” he says cockily. 

I give it a smack. With a helping hand from Azriel, I sink into the tub, and let the water cool off my skin. I lean back, wondering how I got so damn lucky.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 1

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.1k

c/a - language

a/n - hi!! i am so so excited to be posting my first ever pazzi fic (and also my first post on tumblr!) she’s a cute little fake-dating rom-com for yall, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much i enjoyed writing it! updates will probably be inconsistent but im gonna do my best lol. lmk what yall think!! (edit: side note, this is obviously all fiction! i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are perfectly good people irl, lol)

“Will you go out with me?”

When Paige asks this question during their weekly lunch date, Azzi is so taken aback that she almost chokes on her Chipotle.

“Shit, you good?” Paige asks, concerned, handing Azzi a napkin to cough into.

Azzi waves her off, swallows, and croaks, “What?”

“Hm?” Paige is staring at her nonchalantly, like she didn’t just ask what Azzi heard her ask. “Oh, that. Yeah, will you?”

“I don’t—“ Azzi shakes her head. Is she being messed with? It feels a lot like she’s being messed with. “Paige, you’re my best friend.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t know you…had, like, feelings for me.”

“Huh? No!” Wide-eyed, Paige shakes her head violently. “No, ‘course I don’t.”

Azzi’s stomach clenches—not in the good way it sometimes does around Paige—and she thinks Paige could’ve bothered to sound less disgusted by the notion of her having feelings for Azzi. “Funny, P.”

“I’m for real.”

Azzi frowns. “Actually?” Paige nods and Azzi wrinkles her brow, confused. “So you wanna go out with me but you don’t feel…like that about me.”

“Were you even listening earlier?” Paige playfully rolls her eyes, sitting all casually in her seat with her legs spread like she has the biggest dick on campus. Azzi usually loves it when she sits like that, but now she’s too annoyed and confused to appreciate it. “I was talking about my mom.”

“Oh.” To be fair, Azzi stopped listening a while ago, when Paige was still talking about the hot electrician that fixed her leaky sink the other day. She wasn’t aware the conversation had taken a more serious tone. “Sorry, I spaced. What were you saying?”

“I was saying she and her fuckass husband invited me home for a few weeks this summer…” Paige waits, but it doesn’t ring any bells, so she sighs and continues. “They told me to bring Josh.”

Azzi scrunches her nose. “Eww, why?”

“Because…I haven’t really, like, you know…” Paige tips her head to the side, “told them we ended things.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs.

“I know! I know. Just, I dunno.” Paige sighs, and Azzi knows she’s trying to act chill about it even though she likely laid awake last night thinking about it. “It’s hard, y’know? They’re not like my dad’s side, they’re not like your parents. You know what they did after I told them…” Paige glances surreptitiously around the restaurant, even though they’re far away from campus and not very likely to be recognized, “everything. And if I told them about Josh and they suspected something, I don’t think they’d let me see Ryan and Lauren again.” Her eyes are wide, now, and she’s doing that thing she does when she gets mad, pinching her bottom lip between her fingers.

Paige and Josh were never actually a thing, by the way. Paige doesn’t swing that way and she’s known it for a long time. But she came out to her mom over the new year, and that phone call had ended in a seething Paige at Azzi’s door, yelling and cursing while Azzi listened, and a broken one in her bed that night, crying herself to sleep while Azzi stroked her hair.

So a couple months later Paige recruited their closeted gay friend, Josh. And they became each other’s beards, pleasing her mom enough that she could stay in contact with her younger siblings. That is, until Josh found a nice boyfriend and Paige was left hanging.

Azzi tries to come up with something to say, something comforting, but she’s not sure there is anything to say.

“And I hate them for that,” Paige goes on. “But as long as Ryan and Lauren are still kids, my parents can still keep them from me. And it sucks they’re holding that over my head but there’s not a lot I can do about it.”

Azzi offers a sad little smile, letting her silence urge Paige to go on, even though she can tell it’s hard for her.

“So, anyway,” Paige sighs, sitting back in her seat, “when Josh ended it, I didn’t wanna tell them, because I knew the calls would stop coming, the support. And so whenever they asked about him, I’d be all, oh, yeah, he’s doing great, just busy. Just bullshitting my way through it.”

“And you’ve been doing this for the past two months?”

“Umm…” Paige looks down at her fingers, counting on them, then furrows her eyebrows. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay…” Azzi leans forward on her elbows. “So how does your weird question come into all this?”

“Don’t say no right away,” Paige says, giving her this knowing look she hates.

Azzi narrows her eyes at her. “We’ll see.”

Paige reaches over to whack her and misses. “Lemme explain, damn. So, when they called me last night and invited me to come home with Josh, I was like, oh, shit. And I thought of ways I could handle it.”

“Uh-huh…” Azzi watches with wary eyes as Paige bends to rummage through her book bag. “Paige, tell me you’re not—”

“Let me introduce you to…” Paige keys up her laptop and then turns the screen toward Azzi with a wide smile, “Boom!”

“Oh my fucking god.” Azzi buries her head in her hands.

“No, bro, listen! It’s lowkey impressive!” Paige taps the screen. “It’s titled Game Plan for my Summer Visit to my Fuckass Parents, featuring Azzi Fudd. By Paige Bueckers.”

“Good Lord,” Azzi says, taking a peek at the PowerPoint in front of her. When has Paige ever gone to such lengths as to create a PowerPoint before? This must really be serious to her.

“So, listen carefully.” Paige taps the screen again; it changes from the title slide to one labeled ‘First (and worst) Option’. “I put the worst part because it’s true, but it’s also a lil rhyming moment.”

“Right, okay. Just keep going, please.”

“So, this is the first option that came to mind,” Paige starts, glancing down at the screen. “This is the option where I ghost my parents and refuse to come see them at all.” She taps the screen to a pros and cons slide. “As you can see, I mostly only came up with cons.”

“Yeah, because it’s a terrible idea.”

“I know. So then we have option two.” The next slide is labeled ‘Option Two (mid)’. “I put the mid part because—“

“I get it.”

Paige shoots her a look. Azzi playfully kicks her under the table. “Go on.”

“Okay.” Paige nudges Azzi’s foot with her own, but her attention is back to the laptop. “This is the scenario where I let my parents think that Josh and I are still together by telling them that I can come to Montana, but that Josh can’t. It’d be pretty easy, and as you can see here…” she clicks the screen, “there’s an even ratio of pros to cons.”

Azzi nods sagely. Sometimes, her best friend takes a while to get to the point, and Azzi learned a long time ago that waiting it out is the best way to go.

“But there is this one big con: I can’t keep lying to my parents forever. So this option is pretty much a way to procrastinate on telling them the truth. Which takes us to the last option.”

This slide is titled ‘Third Option (THE BEST)’ along with a few muscle emojis tacked to the end. A headache forms at the base of Azzi’s skull.

“This is where my awesome idea comes in.” Paige gives her a very self-satisfied smile. “Instead of Josh, I take you with me to Montana and we pretend you’re my girlfriend for two weeks. Literally a genius idea.” She leans back in her seat, nodding assuredly to herself, and Azzi can’t help but smile because she really loves this girl. Despite how bat-shit crazy she is.

“P, I don’t—“

“Hear me out.” Paige clicks to the final slide. This pros and cons list is mostly pros, and Azzi spots many love-emojis sprinkled throughout. “We pretend we’ve been dating since beginning of March. They know you’re my best friend; we’ll pretend that after Josh broke up with me, you and I bonded and fell in love or some shit. My parents won’t be happy, but I’ll already be there with you so they won’t kick me out or nothing.” Paige frowns. “Probably.”

Ok, so, Azzi absolutely hates to admit it, but this does actually make some sense. Not that she’ll ever say such a thing out loud.

“And then they’ll realize we’re totally in love and I’m happy and even if they hate gay shit they just want me to be happy, because I’m their kid.” Paige says this last part less like a fact and more like something she’s trying to convince herself of. Azzi can’t help but feel bad for her.

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, watching Paige tuck away her laptop. “That’s your plan.”

“Yep.”

“I’m seeing a few plot holes.”

Paige waves her off. “It’ll work. No plan of mine is gonna fail, trust.”

“And why should I help you?”

Paige gives her an easy smile, and Azzi sort of hates how confident she is. “Because I’m your best friend in the whole world and you love me.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“C’mon, Az. What is there to lose?”

Azzi sighs and almost says something stupid like I’m in, but this isn’t just one of those things that she can help Paige with without thinking twice. It’ll be two weeks of torture, pretending to date the girl she’s secretly in love with while being surrounded by her homophobic family, and then having to come home at the end of the two weeks and pretend she never got to experience a glimpse of what it’s like to be with Paige in the way she’s always wanted.

It sounds like hell.

Azzi sighs again, ready to say no, but when she looks up Paige is staring at her with something more vulnerable than before, open in the way she bites her lip, her arm reaching across the table like she’s wearing her heart on her sleeve and waiting for Azzi to take it.

Azzi takes her hand, instinctually, and says, “Okay.”

She is so fucking gone for this girl.

————————————-

They don’t talk about it for two days after that. It’s not that they don’t get the chance, or that they don’t see each other—they go to the gym together both days—it’s just that neither of them seems to have the guts to bring it up. And why should they? It wasn’t too scary while they were having the original conversation—nothing too big or threatening or, god forbid, real—but as soon as Azzi stepped into her dorm after that lunch, she realized just how much she fucked up by saying yes to Paige’s crazy idea.

It would be an understatement to say that talking about it is the last thing Azzi wants to do at this point.

Paige, however, seems to have other plans, as she usually does. When she storms into the living room—where almost every single member of the UConn women’s basketball team is doing homework—she makes a beeline for the seat beside Azzi on the couch and whispers, “Hey.”

Nika leans up from the floor to poke Paige with her pencil. “No chit-chat, we’re working.”

Paige glares. “What, I can’t talk to my best friend?”

“Shh,” hisses Aaliyah, barely pulling her eyes from her laptop.

Paige flips her off even though Aaliyah is too immersed to notice, and then she turns her attention back to Azzi, bumping their knees together. “Can we talk later?”

Azzi pretends to be focused on studying. “Mm. About?”

“About…” Paige glances around furtively, “y’know.”

Yes, Azzi does in fact know, but she really wishes she didn’t. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Paige says sarcastically. “Specifics? Rules? Details? I prepared a whole new PowerPoint.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing the past couple of days.”

“Yeah, turns out I love PowerPoint.”

Azzi finally cautions a glance up, and Paige is looking at her, completely serious. The eye contact seriously messes with her ability to make sound decisions.

“Okay,” Azzi relents. “As long as you’re quiet for the next forty minutes, we can talk.”

Paige, dutifully, doesn’t say a word for the rest of Azzi’s worktime, letting everyone study in peace. And that’s how Azzi ends up in Paige’s bedroom an hour later, perched on the edge of her bed while Paige struggles with her laptop.

“Okay, fuck this,” Paige says after extensive fiddling. “My stupid fucking PowerPoint isn’t loading. What the hell.”

Every bone in Azzi’s body wants to take this as a sign from God, the fact that this PowerPoint isn’t working, that they’re not supposed to do this. She wants to walk out of the room—and this agreement—for good. But Paige is her best friend and Azzi had always been too loyal for her own good, so she sighs and says, “How about we just talk about it? Y’know, like normal people.”

Paige frowns but closes her laptop regardless. “Okay. So.”

“So…”

“First off,” Paige says when Azzi doesn’t continue, “I just felt like I should probably say sorry for dragging you into this.” Paige scratches the back of her neck, always a little awkward when it comes to apologies. “I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

Azzi blinks, startled. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well…” should she back out? If she were going to, now’s her chance.

Azzi looks down at a scab on her knee. “I mean, that’s okay.”

Paige shifts in her seat, the stool creaking underneath her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to help with one of your ridiculous plans.” Azzi goes for lighthearted but knows it falls flat under the weight of what she’s going to have to do.

“Okay.” When Azzi looks up, Paige is staring at her suspiciously. She wonders just how bad of an actress she must be for Paige, the same Paige who hasn’t yet detected Azzi’s somewhat obvious, six-years-long crush on her, to see right through her. But then she just shrugs and continues, aloof like she always is. “So then I wanted to ask you about what you think we should do about…all this.”

“…Okay?”

“I was thinking we should get into the, like. The specifics.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “Paige, just tell me.”

Paige gnaws at her lip until it turns white and Azzi starts to worry it might bleed, but then she says, “We need a sex timeline.”

If Azzi were drinking water, she would have surely spit it out.

“A what?” she asks, sort of incredulous. Paige has said a lot of crazy things before but nothing quite like that.

“Okay, my bad, weird way to put it.” Paige grins as if all of this is funny to her. “What I mean is we need a story to tell my family, our friends. Like, why did we start dating? When was our first kiss? What’s our song? Have we, you know…gone to the penthouse and freaked it?”

Azzi throws herself back onto the bed. Paige’s bed. Which she is just now realizing is probably going to be the bed that many of these fictional events are going to take place in. “Paige.”

Paige is giggling now, which is endearing because Paige doesn’t giggle often. If only it weren’t at Azzi’s expense. “We need to figure it out, for real! People are going to ask questions.”

“People are not going to ask those kinds of questions.”

“Um, excuse me.” Paige stands and walks over until she’s at the bed, pulling Azzi’s legs off the edge playfully. “Have you met our friends? KK’s not shy with that shit.”

Azzi’s ankles instinctively go around the back of Paige’s thighs, but she’s in a certain mindset due to their current conversation and the casual gesture suddenly seems much less innocent than usual. She unwraps them, pulling her legs from Paige’s grasp as discreetly as possible. “So we’re planning on telling them we’re dating, too?”

Paige shrugs. “Yeah. You weren’t?”

“I don’t…” Azzi straightens up as Paige sits beside her, their hips touching. “We spend every day with them, P. Don’t you think it’ll be hard to keep up the act that much?”

“Yeah, probably. But that’s also why I wanna do it.” As usual, Paige sounds completely sure of herself. “We only have a couple weeks until Montana and I wanna make sure we get enough practice acting like a couple.”

Azzi still feels uneasy about the whole thing, but Paige is right—they can’t get onto a plane as best friends and get off it a convincing pair of girlfriends.

Azzi’s face heats at the term. Girlfriends. But that’s what they’ll be, isn’t it?

“I was thinking we’ll tell them next week,” Paige says. “We’ll ask them to hang out and then drop it on them that we’ve been dating since March.” Paige must recognize the look on Azzi’s face, because she puts a hand on her knee—which does absolutely nothing to help. “Is that cool with you?”

Azzi can’t say all of the things she’s thinking right now, so instead she settles for, “Yeah, no.” She pauses, her feet on Paige’s fuzzy carpet, and decides this will be the last time she lets herself doubt this.

“I think that’s perfect.”

————————————

One week later, three Saturdays from the end the school year, Azzi sits with a bowl of popcorn in her lap feeling like she might hurl.

“Why are you acting so weird, Fudd?” KK asks, and Azzi startles at her name, looking at the freshman who’s sitting on the floor in front of her and giving her a weird look.

“Leave her alone, Camera,” Paige says, settling into the couch next to Azzi. “What movie we watching?”

They are all crammed into a dorm, as they often are, excited for a chill team movie night in the midst of finals season. Little do the girls know, they will be getting entertainment from more than just the movie tonight.

“No, KK’s right,” Ice says, scrolling through Netflix on the TV. “Azzi’s been acting super weird.”

Azzi, somewhat offended (she thought her acting skills were pretty decent) looks around the room for help. Instead, the girls all just nod their agreement.

Paige nudges her and raises her eyebrows, and Azzi knows exactly what that look means.

“You don’t have to tell us what’s up if you don’t want,” Inês says from her place on the other side of Azzi, dipping her hand into their shared popcorn. It almost makes Azzi want to back out.

Almost.

Putting on her bravest face, Azzi nods and turns to face their friends. “Paige and I have something we’d like to tell you.”

There’s something odd about the silence that follows this, the way the girls on the floor look at each other before turning their bodies to face the couch, the stragglers sitting in the loveseat and at the dining table leaning forward almost imperceptibly.

Azzi tenses up as she is suddenly under the scrutiny of eleven other girls. How is she going to lie to them? How is this ever going to work?

Paige, through some form of best-friend-telepathy, senses Azzi’s struggle and places a comforting hand on her back. “I can say it.”

This isn’t what they practiced, but Azzi is too grateful and too distracted by the hand on her back to worry about going off-script.

“We’ve been wanting to tell y’all for a while,” Paige says. “But we also wanted to just keep it to ourselves for a little bit.”

It sounds so natural, and effortless, and Azzi can feel herself slipping into this role for the first time. She pretends the hand on her back is more than friendly, the nerves in her stomach are something other than guilt, the things Paige is about to say are true.

If one good thing is going to come out of any of this, it’ll be this feeling of contentment that Azzi will get to have, at least for a little while. And maybe she’s okay with that.

“Do you guys remember that party we went to a couple months ago?” Paige asks. Her nails scratch over Azzi’s shirt, making her shiver.

“Yeah…” Nika says at the table in the corner. Aubrey rests her chin in her palms, looking suspiciously like she’s trying not to smile. For some reason, Ice and KK are clutching each other’s hands.

“Well, when Azzi and I got home we just decided to stay together in her dorm…” Paige trails off like she’s hesitant to continue, and half the girls lean closer to them while the other half look a little too relaxed. Ice is now glaring at KK, who’s…beaming?

“Something happened between us that night.” Paige looks at Azzi now, and even though this is what they were supposed to do the look in her eyes still takes Azzi’s breath for just a moment. She has dreamed of Paige looking at her like this for years, and now it is finally happening, and Azzi thinks she would do anything to make this all real.

Paige opens her mouth to continue, but before she can, KK jumps to her feet and squeals, and Ice throws the remote on the ground with an angry, “Fuck!”

Azzi and Paige both startle, and Azzi loves the way Paige’s hand fists up her shirt in surprise, but then the notices that all the other girls don’t seem surprised or confused at all—rather, they all seem to be having similar reactions to KK. Nika and Aubrey are even singing something, and Inês has jumped up from her spot beside Azzi to join the others in what looks a lot like a celebration. Why are they all chest-bumping each other?

Finally, Azzi finds it in herself to speak. “Guys, what…?”

KK kneels to wrap her arms around a sulking Ice and looks at them both, eyes glimmering. “Whatchu mean, what?”

“I don’t…” Paige releases Azzi’s shirt, her hand falling to the seat behind her. “We haven’t even finished telling you yet.”

“Are y’all actually this dumb?” KK asks, before squealing in Ice’s ear and then throwing herself onto the couple on the couch. “Ugh! I’m so happy for you two lovebirds.”

“Lovebirds…?” Azzi asks, but the room is too raucous for her to be heard and when she looks at Paige, all she gets is an equally confused head shake in return.

“My babies are growing up,” Aubrey says, wiping an invisible tear, and Aaliyah comfortingly pats her shoulder.

“Baby,” Amari says, smiling at the both of them, “we have known.”

“Uh,” Paige says, thrown off for once in her life. “How?”

“Because y’all are the most obvious fucking couple in the country,” Ice chips in. She is still pouting, even with Ayanna patting her on the head and Jana rubbing her shoulders.

During the past week, Paige and Azzi have been dropping a few hints here and there in the hopes that they could almost ease their friends into it before telling them, to make things more believable. But obvious? Obvious enough for all of them to know? That’s a stretch.

Apparently thinking the same thing, Paige laughs awkwardly, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “We thought we were pretty good at hiding it.”

“Yeah, right.” Caroline flicks Azzi’s forehead good-naturedly. “KK and Ice have had a bet running for, like, six months now.”

At this, Azzi tenses up, and Paige turns to her, gives her a cautious, confused smile. “That long?”

“I started the bet, of course,” KK pipes in. “You two are so in love.” She sighs dreamily and then nudges Ice with her foot. “You owe me my five-hundy, girlypop.”

“You didn’t even actually win, this doesn’t count,” Ice grumbles. “We made the bet six months ago and they only started dating in March. And also, I thought they’d be way too pussy to tell us yet.”

Paige perks up at this, her unusual awkwardness gone as fast as it came. “Hey! I ain’t pussy about nothing!” and KK chimes in with her own protests of, “Girl, boo! It does too still count, you’re just a sore-ass loser!”

Azzi can’t bring herself to say anything, because their teammates believed Azzi and Paige gave been dating longer ago than this arrangement was even brought up. And that means they must have seen Azzi’s feelings for Paige, and whatever the other side of that is, and they don’t really act like a couple, do they?

“Anyway,” Ice continues, a little less pouty now, “I totally thought I’d have to walk in on you two fucking or something before you ever really came clean.”

Azzi squeezes her eyes shut. Paige’s fingernails dig into her back a little bit.

“I actually can’t believe none of us have walked in on them fucking yet,” Nika muses, and the room quiets down a little, everyone mumbling their assent.

“Maybe they’re celibate,” KK reasons, then fixes them with a look. “Are y’all celibate?”

Paige laughs, and then bends close to Azzi’s ear and mutters, “Told you so.”

For the rest of the night, Azzi’s neck is hot.

This might be more complicated than she thought.

[nochukoo97]

new beginnings

pairing: ceo!jungkook x figureskater!oc

warnings/summary: oc takes up a new job as a cashier, and she gets a CAT, jk is a little grumpy but he gets better, he’s also annoying by calling oc’s cat a cottonbud LOL, he calls her sweetheart, and oc has a little crushy crush on this hot neighbour, they bump into each other three times, basically they’re destined to meet each other even when they barely know each other

word count: 2.4k+ / TAGLIST OPEN

series masterlist!

“Goddamn, how many pieces of clothing do you own?” Yeji grunts as she helps to pull along two of your suitcases into her apartment’s lift.

“It’s all costumes for my competitions, my coach keeps insisting to keep them in case we need it in the future,” You internally sigh at the thought of your coach, she wasn’t bad by all means, but she constantly pushed you to your limits with countless competitions she enrolled you in. But after all, you didn’t come to Seoul and join the national team expecting a smooth and comfortable journey.

“Anyways, you’ve gotta tap the card right here,” She explains the whole crazy security system here, then passes you the access card to the apartment. One week ago you would’ve probably not expected to be in this situation, now moving in with your best friend, as well as her boyfriend who has begun to sleepover at her place more often than necessary. But right now if it meant that less money would fall out of your bank account, putting up with whatever third-wheeling you were about to go through would make it all worth it.

You pull your other two suitcases into the lift, noticing a man shuffling into the corner to make space for the two of you and your four huge suitcases. The lift door closes and there’s this deafening silence that fills the lift, with the way Yeji widens her eyes at you but says nothing, you assume it might be about the latter standing in the corner of the lift.

“What kind of signals were you trying to send me in there?” You whine when the lift door finally closes, as Yeji abandons the now-rolling-away suitcases to grab onto your hands.

“It’s rolling!” You exclaim, as she jumps slightly, your voice raising a little louder than usual in panic.

“Sorry-sorry, anyways, he’s the guy I told you about! Maybe I can set you up with him,” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, giving you the same taunting look she did when she had proposed moving into her apartment.

“No! I don’t even know that man, anyways with those looks he might already be taken,” You brush your best friend off, anyways, you didn’t want a relationship right? When Yeji had told you about the hot guy in her apartment, you had immediately brushed the idea of being set up off, since that’s exactly how you met your ex, and it definitely did not end on a good note.

“Oh, so you’re attracted to him?” She jogs in front of you to look you in the eye, seemingly much more excited at her sudden discovery than you.

“What? No I didn’t say that? I just- whatever! Open the door!”

She only smirks at your stuttering, but complies as she opens the front door to her unit, and you’re greeted with a familiar sight that you now need to get used to calling home.

-

People had always praised you for being dainty and sweet, always dressed up in elegant costumes during your competitions, your moves on ice had always charmed the audience with how smooth you twirled and jumped.

You would like to say that they might change their minds when they spot you in this current situation: no makeup on, eyebags peeking through, in a neon green vest as you stare at the rows of cigarettes behind the cashier.

The younger you would have never expected to end up working part time in this convenience store, but here you are.

But somehow it didn’t seem too bad, you were the only worker here, besides a sweet lady who comes and sweeps the floor every evening, and the best part: you got to control the music.

To be honest, you may have been enjoying yourself a little too much with the way you hum to the music as you drink the complimentary-one-a-day coffee your manager had given you.

“One pack of menthol,” Your sudden peace is abruptly disrupted as you whip your head around, jumping slightly as you hear the voice sound from behind you.

Oh. It’s the same man from the lift, this time he’s wearing another suit in a different colour, but this time he seems much more drained than before.

“I said-” He repeats himself again, noticing your spaced out look as you stare straight at him.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry sorry, it’s been a long day,” You quickly gather yourself, mentally cursing yourself for checking out the man in front of you so shamelessly, but he only scoffs at your little mistake.

He’s either a total dickhead or is just having a bad day. Hopefully its the latter since as much as you hate to admit it, maybe he perhaps has caught your attention.

But the same man quickly walks out of the store the moment you return his black credit card, as you’re now once alone in the store, gathering your things to finally end your shift.

-

It’s only a few days later where you meet your next crisis, or rather a blessing in disguise.

An innocent trip to the local fair turned into you signing adoption papers for this fluffy little furball that you absolutely could not leave. To be fair, you were mainly there to find some cute accessories to buy, but the newly put up adoption booth had caught your eye.

The moment your eyes had met the beady little eyes of the small white cat, you couldn’t say no. Even if it meant paying thrice your income from working at the convenience store, anything would be worth this cat.

But then again, your heart sank further once the lady at the counter had told you the animals put up were free to adopt, or else they would be euthanised the following day. It almost made you attempt to calculate just how much it would cost to take care of all the animals here, but in the end you had settled to just bring the cat home.

“Yeji, hypothetically how mad would you be on a scale of 1 to 10 if I brought a cat home?” You press your phone in between your shoulder and cheek as you wrap the little cat in its blanket, snuggling the animal close to your chest in hopes to provide it more warmth.

“You’re kidding me right now,” You hear her sigh at the other end, “What makes you think we can raise a cat? Let alone you working night shifts and being out at training in the day?”

She wasn’t wrong, but you’re pretty sure it’ll all be okay.

“Trust me, the lady managing the adoption booth told me cats are way more independent, we can get her an automatic feeder and I’ll need to get a litter box too, and maybe some toys and treats on the side too…”

She sighs again, “And that’ll cost a gajillion dollars, where are you going to get that from?”

“I’ll find a way, trust me,”

-

Truth to be told, the package deal you had got for litter and food was a little more pricey than you had anticipated, but you were confident that it would save you money in the future anyways.

Cloud, the newly named cat, of which you spent many hours deciding on a name for her, was easier to handle than expected, she often played with the little gadget toy Yeji had got her, and learnt how to use her litterbox in a day, which made you come to a conclusion that you had raised a genius.

But yet your oh-so-smart furkid may also be a little too intelligent, the absence of a certain cat in the apartment has now caused your anxiety and hysteria.

“How did she manage to escape with us not noticing again! The last time I saw her crawl through your legs but this time I swear she disappeared into thin air!” You’re on the verge of tears as you tell Yeji, who only rubs her palm up and down your back as a offering of comfort.

“But you’ve got her tagged up, your number and her name is attached to her collar, I’m sure anyone who finds her will definitely call you immediately,” She tells you, watching as you now begin to hiccup, tears forming and rolling down your cheeks.

“What if she got run down by a car? Or some psychopath who hates cats found her? Oh my poor baby, she must be missing me already,” There’s a million different scenarios that play through your head, all leading to Cloud ending up in nowhere else but cat heaven.

“She’ll be fine, calm down, my friend’s cat often runs out of the house but the cat always returns every few days, some of them prefer to go out and explore, perhaps Cloud is the same,”

You can only sigh and hope for the best.

-

unknown number: hey

unknown number: did you lose a cat?

You gasp to yourself when your eyes scan the new text that had appeared on your screen, someone had found her.

you: YES

you: DON’T DO ANYTHING TO HER PLEASE

you: i promise ill pay anything for you not to do anything

Your heart beats frantically in your chest watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again. There was no way a psychopath had truly found Cloud and already decided to perform whatever possible traumatic procedure on her right?

unknown number: why would i do anything to it??

unknown number: in fact your cat is the one who had run into my apartment and marked her territory all over.

Oh. That was the last thing you had expected.

you: do you have a litter box in your house?

The three dots taunt you as they appear once and pause for a good minute, as if whoever is on the other side is pondering hard to answer your simple question.

unknown number: what kind of question is that??

unknown number: i dont own a cat, why tf would i own a litter box??

You frown at the reply, you were grateful he didn’t do anything to Cloud, but a simple no would be great.

you: just send me your address!!

you: i need to see if she’s alright, she probably is crying for me right now

unknown number: it’s sleeping peacefully under my bed right now, i dont think its upset at all.

unknown number: here’s the address: xxx

You sigh in relief when you realise it’s the unit above your apartment, which meant she couldn’t have gone too far.

you: first of all, you never know if she’s crying in her heart

you: second of all, stop calling Cloud an it!!! she has a name and she is a girl

you: third of all, im coming upstairs im in the same apartment complex

You roll your eyes when a reply comes in faster than it did before, mostly because it’s an insult to your cat:

unknown number: who names a cat cloud?? she looks more like a cotton bud, hurry and get her.

-

When you reach the floor above you, you’re met with a black door, no doorbell in sight. So you simply knock, sure that it had been the person that found Cloud since it was the only unit on the floor.

What you didn’t expect is to be met with the same man you saw whilst working at the convenience store. Instead he’s in a loose shirt and some shorts, hair not styled as a few pieces of bangs fall over his eyes. His presence daunts you a little, considering how darkly lit his place was, and how he towered over you.

“Oh? So we meet again,” He seems to recognise you as he steps aside, watching as you take off your bedroom slippers, which you now curse at yourself for wearing since it was pink and fluffy.

You think you hear a little laugh when he spots your slippers but you choose to believe he didn’t anyways.

“Where is my baby?” You step in now, taking in the view of his place. It’s a little larger than Yeji’s apartment, and the interior seems… lacking some colour. It’s mostly black and grey furniture, with hints of marble and some white chairs here and there, but it’s a total opposite of your apartment.

“Don’t think she cares enough to be your baby, but your baby pissed all over my balenciaga shoes and my dumbbells,” He deadpans, nodding his head to show you the dark pair of shoes that now hang at the window, you assume to dry them out.

“Your what shoes?!” You almost turn pale at the mention of the designer brand, there’s no way he might ask you to get him a new pair right?

“Forget about that, go and get Cottonbud out of my room,” He walks into the hallway, looking back once to check if you follow him.

“What did you just call her?!” You yell at him from behind as he enters a room, a bed coming into sight and a much too familiar tail that sticks out from under the bed.

“Cloud!” You’re far too busy attempting to reunite with your cat to bother hearing another reply from the man, but the moment you come closer to the swaying tail, Cloud dashes away from your grasp and hides at the very deep end from under the bed.

“Looks like someone isn’t too keen on seeing you,”

You whip around, a frown on your face as you are met with the man who smirks, almost taunting you.

“Shut up,”

“What’re you gonna do now then? The cat’s gone further under the bed, I can’t reach there either,” He has his hands on his hips, standing and waiting for your reply.

His gaze and posture makes you feel small, and not having a single clue what to do fuels this feeling in you. And perhaps add some butterflies in too and it’ll perfectly describe how you are feeling.

“I- I don’t know! I’ve never had to deal with this situation before!” You’re pacing up and down, glancing at the bed, hoping Cloud would magically pop out and leap into your arms so you can run home away from this man.

“Well I’ve got all day sweetheart, you can slowly find a way to get Cottonbud out of my house,”

“Her name is not Cottonbud!”

“Whatever,”

TAGLIST: @skzthinker @cherrysainttt @vminkookgf @lilaissa @jjeonjjk7 @armystay89 @canyon-lwt @junecat18

[welcometogrouchland]

It's mostly the fault of poor editorial practices that B&R is so heavily misaligned continuity-wise w/ the main batman book. But walk with me for a minute:

You are Damian Wayne. You are 14 years old and have had one of the worst years of your life last year. Which is saying a lot.

Your brother, one of the people you were closest to, got shot in the head and forgot who you were. Your best friend went to space for a week and came back 3/4 years older than you, taking away your previously established dynamic and leaving you to have to bond all over again w/ a new one. You may or may not have gone wayyy too far with your new superhero team, who now all hate you, because you fucked up big time*

And worst of all, when you do try to do the right thing, you end up forced to watch Alfred, a father figure to you, the only one at your birthday that year, the person who has been so patient, loving and trusting with you, even when you probably didnt deserve it...die. you watch him die, and feel it's all your fault.

And your dad never corrects you on that last point. So you run away.

First to your mom who can tell something's up with you, she knows you don't give up that easy, you decide not to stay with her because you remembered how actually, neither of your parents are good at communicating with you despite their best efforts, so now you're 14 and flying solo.

And you do fly solo. For a while. Make new friends, new enemies. You think you're better off for it. You've got your best friend and your brother back. They're not around as much. It's fine.

And eventually your dad tells you that it's not your fault that Alfred died. Bit late but it's appreciated. Really. There's a bit of a hiccup where you get possessed by a demon and wage war against your father but after that, all in all, you two are...together again.

You start to think maybe you want to give him another chance, for the two of you to be father and son.

And in a change of pace, it works out! It's going good, mostly. He insists you go to highschool, you resist, feel like he wants you to be something that you're not (wants you to be normal), but eventually you acquiesce for your own reasons. He cheers you on at soccer and nosies around at your fundraising events with the other parents and gives you a stern talking to about your choice of girlfriend. Because he cares.

Except all the while this is going on, your dad is currently having his brain slowly taken over by an evil version of himself that he created and every time you look away he's slowly tearing your family apart (your brothers are just barely keeping it together. The ones who didn't get lobotmized that is Jesus Christ). You keep taking his side in these conflicts, for whatever reason. Maybe because he promised it would be different this time, and it isn't** and you're going to stick with him until he keeps his word for once.

But at the end of the day?

It's like your brother says. You're not the one who saves him. Broadly speaking, you've made things worse and needed others to come save you. And what else is Robin really for? You thought it was about redemption and teamwork but guess you're wrong. It's about saving your self destructive, apparently two-faced and erratic father. And you can't even do that right.

* TT (2016) by Adam Glass is a racist ooc mess, but unfortunately it's still canon so I'm referencing here, though like a lot of works authors clearly wish weren't canon but are, it's been subsequently glossed over. Win? Maybe? Or not?

** again Zdarky's characterization of Damian is so outdated as to be ooc, and considering the way he constantly and explicitly uses it to illustrate Tim's strengths as robin, I'd argue there's. Also implications there. But the batshit insanity of the main batbook compared to B&R rn is crucial for this post, so I'm attempting to justify it. This time..

[satcrvz]

CHAPTER TWENTY; soft launch

navi

the two of you drove down streets, city lights leaking into the car, illuminating your faces. you didn't plan on this being the way he hears the playlist you'd made for him. but rather this than over text, right?

"so," he finally speaks up, "did you want to go somewhere or just drive around?"

you glance at him, "it was your idea! but we could go to wendys?" he could hear the smile in your tone, despite not looking at your face.

for just a moment, a comfortable silence filled the car. that was until the familiar tune of ‘show me how’ started playing. you let it play not thinking much of it, but somehow every lyric seemed to be so much louder.

in a hushed tone you mutter out, "oh my gosh," while resting your head on the window.

yuta contains a smile knowing exactly what's happening and mentally punches himself for not realizing earlier. half the song went by before he mustered up the courage to finally say something.

"hey." you hum and lift your head to acknowledge him. "y'know i like you too right?"

your eyes quickly widen after you process his words. "wait, who told you? was it maki? i'm going to jump out"

he glances over at you and smiles, "you're just gonna ignore my confession huh? i almost shit my pants saying that!" you look down to play with your fingers out of nervousness. "and you're gonna ignore my question? it was maki wasn't it?"

he confirms your suspicion and knows he'll regret it later. he pulls into a parking space and looks over at you.

"can i be your boyfriend?"

it's hard not to smile but you immediately accept his offer. he shuts off the vehicle, and like he has many times before, runs to open your door for you.

the two of you walk toward the fast food building. "so is this technically our first date?" you ask while playfully sidestepping and nudging his shoulder.

he whines at you to not count this as your first date, "our first date will be something better. trust me."

the rest of the night consisted with the two of you eating and exchanging stories about how you acted when you liked each other. you giggled at one confession in particular, him thinking you and megumi had a thing going on.

"yuta? dude, you knew megumi before me, i think you’d know if he had a girl!" you say inbetween laughs.

"you could’ve been a secret girlfriend… and don’t dude me! we’re dating now"

that makes you laugh even harder, so hard that you missed his sly antics. he’d taken a straw and balled up the paper at the end and blew it at you.

any other time you probably would’ve thrown food at him, but you were in public so the tamest thing you could do was flick him off.

:3 confession guys

kendrick and drake beef a lil funny. i see why j cole apologized, i wouldn’t want to mess with kendrick either 😭

one more chapter and perhaps a bonus :p

DO YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT WITH THE STRAW THING? MY BROTHER USED TO DO IT TO ME

@saesofficialwife @k4romis @soy-garbage @sakyira @dreamxiing @swissy23 @shnzies @captaincyberqueen n @fantasycantasy @chuyasthighs0 @mixzimi @milza12 @nahoye @spookyrule @4phskingdom @sad-darksoul l l @morgyyyyyyy @smashingdollz z z @bubbles-the-ghost @lunavixia @gaychaosgremlin @jayathelostdragon @h3xi2g0n3 @lysaray @sereniteav @httpakkeiji i @histxricaldrama @aiieera @rieieieieieiei @tobaccosunbxrst t  @hvnyacoded @ohhyuuta @inupibaldspot t @diogodxlot @amenial @kzoyu @ancientimes @mochuchi @cerisescherries @sugurubabe @saltypuffin1040 @lunarbleedings @kamikokii @egoistars @r0ckst4rjk @arysbruv @bbladie @hobistigma @k1ttylvr @deeeeexx @arivsx @kyrofu9 @kereseth @clxvrs @dremerys @alluresenses @sak1l @just-a-girlblogger @m6tra @nyxlai @ecliiipsee @luvlybeom @nnnyxie

[swordsandholly]

For WIP Wednesday I give you clips from both the next part of Cherry Bomb and Across the Way:

Across the Way Chapter 5

You resolutely march your way across the street - hands balled into tight fists and face set. The open sign in the corner of the window flickers as you approach the shop door. You hesitate briefly, hand hovering over the handle to enter. Are you being annoying? He might be busy. He’s probably busy. You know working all on your own is time consuming. What if he feels like he can’t say no? Deep down, you know you’re being dramatic. They said they’re your friends and neither Johnny nor Simon seem the type to lie about that sort of thing.

You realize, to your shock and horror, that you’ve been hovering in front of the glass door for a minute straight. Oh, he probably thinks your a freak. Part of you wants to turn tail and run - dash all the way across the street and up the stairs and bury yourself in bed. Avoid him and Johnny for the rest of your life after this blunder. It’s can’t be that hard, right? How difficult could it be to skirt around the men across the street in this tiny, tiny, tiny town?

Impossible is the answer.

A weight lifts off your shoulders when you finally step inside, only to be greeted with an empty front of house. Simon must be in the back. Thank goodness he most likely didn’t see your internal crisis in front of his door.

When Simon circles out of the backroom he’s wiping down his hands - the rag obviously stained with unsettling shades of red. His apron is covered in similar hues. He’s rolled up his sleeves today exposing the expanse of his arms. They flex as he moves and it really should not be as attractive as it is to watch him wipe actual blood of his hands like this.

“Afternoon, bird.” Simon grunts casually. He has his usual black surgical mask on, muffling his words ever so slightly.

“H-hi!” You squeak, your planned script getting stuck in your throat. You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that sometimes. That calm, almost bored droop of his eyes as he waits for you to gather yourself.

“Can I get you somethin’?” He cocks his head slightly.

“Uhm…” You shift under his steady gaze, unable to meet his eye and stop staring down at your non-slip work shoes. “I…uh…I made a steak pie with some of those leftovers you gave me and, uh, it’s kind of too much for just me…and I know you usually take your lunch around now and, uh…”

Simon huffs in amusement. “You askin’ me t’ get lunch?”

“I mean, I kind of owe you any-”

“You don’t owe me anythin’.” He interrupts, pulling his apron over his head and hanging it neatly behind the counter. He does that a lot, you realize. Cuts you off whenever you begin to apologize or try to push them away.

Cherry Bomb Part Nine: The Expo

“Are you?” John asks

“Hm?” You hum, unsure of what he’s asking about.

“Happy here?” He leans against the alley wall, cutting the end off a cigar he pulled from the silver box that lives in his back pocket.

In the low light of the alley, his pupils overtake most of his irises. Dark and intense as he looks you over from head to toe. You see it, suddenly. The god that the others do. He’s not as physically large as Simon, or as loud as Johnny, but he fills every inch of any space he enters regardless. You suppose you became so used to being in that radius that you forgot just how much presence he carries. You’ve wrapped yourself in it like a blanket. A shield.

Your cheeks warm and you shuffle your feet. “I… yeah.”

“Good.” John sighs out a cloud of smoke. “It’d be a pain in the arse to replace you. The boys have taken too much of a liking t’you.”

You stare up at him, eyes wide. It’s not like you didn’t know they like you but having it confirmed still makes your chest tight. It makes your eyes sting and you can’t help but break out into a bashful grin.

“John?” You murmur, barely meeting his eye.

“Dove?” He tilts his head.

Some boldness overtakes you - that same one that the others instill in you. Something born from them and them alone. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist, earning a grunt in return, and bury your face in his chest.

“Thank you. For everything.” You mutter, voice muffled. He smells so good - the slight burn of cigar smoke only adding to the depth of it. “I’ve never… been taken care of. Not like you all do.”

There’s a pause. For a moment you begin to panic that you’ve overstepped. That you’ve monumentally fucked up. That-

An arm wraps around you, John’s large hand cradling the back of your head. “Think nothin’ of it, love.”

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #55

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.2k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

​​“You okay?” Namjoon asks after a few moments of silent walking, your thoughts running wild until they stop and your entire mind is just… blank. 

“Mhm.” 

Namjoon doesn’t look like he wants to pry, probably contemplating between being respectful or caring enough to talk to you some more. Your short attempt of response says the opposite of what he’s asking. 

“Okay…” he mumbles just as you reach the cabin. He holds the door for you and all you can muster in return is a weak attempt to smile in gratitude. Met with a dimpled smile, he motions his head toward bathrooms. “Go, take your time. I’ll wait here.” 

Nodding, you see him sitting on one of the couches you sat just two hours ago, waiting for Yoongi. God, you can’t even bring yourself to wonder how it’s looking at the campfire. 

Are they questioning Jungkook? Are things awkward? Well, the two of you have taken care of that. 

The throb between your legs starts to intensify as soon as you get under the warm water, cheek stinging which makes you hiss. It’s nothing serious, not even the stinging bothers you just as much as the fact that it’s a fucking reminder. 

To be honest, you’re not quite sure how to feel. Are you disappointed? Despite all that, you don’t regret having sex. It eased some of the anger and you both needed that. Even if it wasn’t the smartest decision in terms of your situation. This has just gotten even more serious without any of you wanting it. Talking seemed out of question. You weren’t ready to talk for whatever dumb reason. And then things escalated. So much that you’re in this mess deeper than at the beginning. 

It started with dumb argument over your ridiculous jealousy and escalated so much that you’ve argued with Jungkook again. And then he fucked you in the freaking woods. 

Rubbing your face harshly, you wince at the pain your uncontrollable rubbing causes to your cheek. Washing off any other remains of the sex — the washable ones at least — you get out of the shower and dry yourself. You don’t want to keep Namjoon waiting regardless of his decision and the kindness of accompanying you here. You dry your hair quickly too, shrugging off the fact that you didn’t previously want to get your hair wet. But in your empty slash frustrated state you got under the shower fast and mindlessly, hoping it would clear your mind. 

Once you step out of the bathroom and see Namjoon patiently waiting, the door opens and Taehyung walks in. His eyes find you across the room, long strides coming up to you just as Namjoon notices you and second after he does Taehyung. 

“I got it from here, Joon.” Taehyung says, clasping his hand over Namjoon’s shoulder. “Are you good walking back on your own?” 

“Mm, yeah.” he says, not sounding too sure but he decides to give you and him space. 

You watch him walk away, out of the cabin into the warm summer night as you stare, dumbfounded. “What is this about?” 

Your questioning doesn’t surprise Taehyung, his face clear off any hint of amusement or excitement you’re used to seeing on him. Instead, he remains quite serious which for obvious reasons makes you uneasy. Taehyung can be serious. You’ve witnessed it a handful of times but this time, it feels different. Maybe it’s just because of what happened. 

After all, you’re quite embarrassed how things ended up — especially when there are other people who might not have witnessed everything (thank god) but they’ve witnessed enough for you to feel embarrassed. They clearly know you and Jungkook are not on good terms, they must’ve known shortly after you arrived. But right now they know things are even more intense. Argh! It’s not like you care too much about them, but it’s embarrassing regardless. 

“I just wanna talk. Should we go outside?” 

“Tae,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“We don’t have to talk about that specifically,” he assured you calmly. “About Jungkook, I mean. I just wanna talk.” 

He’s got something to tell you. Sighing once again, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Talking outside does sound better. It’s awfully quiet in this cabin and even though you’re sure the elder man doesn’t care about some stupid drama between two best friends and horny freaks, you do feel comfortable it’s just you and Taehyung talking.

You walk outside and end up following Taehyung to the porch. “You good?” 

“Why’s everyone asking me that?” you exclaim. 

“Damn, sorry for asking,” Taehyung mutters, “You don’t look good, that’s why.” 

“Damn, sorry.” you mutter back, a quiet snicker leaving his mouth as he motions his head for you to follow him. 

Walking down the few stairs, your feet touch the grass and Taehyung leads you around the cabin until you reach a corner. He pulls out something from his pocket, two items actually as you watch lighter being lit up. Brows raised in surprise, you watch Taehyung put a cigarette between his lips as he lights it up. He breathes out a cloud of smoke, away from you. 

“You smoke?” 

It’s no breaking news. You’ve seen once or twice Taehyung lit up a cigarette. But all of those occasions (rare occasions) were when he was wasted. 

“Just a new habit.” he explains, offering you his cigarette as you shake your head with a short nose scrunch. He smiles at that. 

Maybe you could use a cigarette. Would it ease your nerves? You’re not sure. You’re not a smoker. Would it solve your problems? Hell no. 

“I wanted to apologize.” he says after a minute, catching your surprised eyes. 

“You wanted to… apologize?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have sent you on that walk.” 

Damn he shouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have fucked Jungkook in the woods if he didn’t. But unfortunately, that’s not Taehyung’s fault. 

“I thought you and Kook just needed to talk. I thought you would talk and you would come back fine.” 

Your features soften, staring into the night. 

“I fucked up, Tae.” you say quietly. 

“How?” he questions, puffing out another smoke.

“I just did.” 

He doesn’t push you for further explanation, even though the typical Taehyung probably itches to know more. But deep down you know he’s respectful and can differentiate between serious and too serious. 

“And you meant well.” 

“Huh?” 

You chuckle. “You meant well by sending us to talk. You were right. We were ruining everyone’s time here. We still are.” 

“That’s not what I said though…” 

“Come on,” You give him a pointed look. “Everyone’s already thinking it.” 

“Y/N,” Taehyung sighs, “You’re not ruining anyone’s time here. You and Kook just have your own shit going on. And you seemed to not solve it in any way. You two just need to talk, but now I understand it needs to be at your own pace.”

“We should talk. I just—I can’t explain it. I was just so mad and annoyed that I couldn’t. We are too annoyed at each other to have a decent conversation. I’m scared to talk because I’m scared it’s gonna end up even in a bigger argument.” 

You toss your stuff onto the grass and lean against the wall beside Taehyung. 

“Does that make sense?” 

“I don’t know. I never had to deal with shit like this.” he confesses, grins cracking on your lips for a short moment. 

You wish you could just tell Taehyung everything. To get it off your chest, to explain why you behaved the way you did. What started the argument and overall, just explain the things from your perspective. But then… Do you want to talk about it? You’re genuinely tired. You’re that kind of person who needs to get stuff off your chest as soon as possible. But it doesn’t seem right at the moment. 

“I’m fucking confused,” he mutters suddenly. “I’m confused how all of this even started. Do you not like Ester or something?” 

Here’s Taehyung’s straightforwardness. 

You understand why he’s asking that. 

“No, I do. She’s a nice girl.” 

Taehyung hums, obviously having something on top of his tongue but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“I was just being dumb. I overreacted.” you explain briefly. Which to be honest, gives Taehyung zero explanation whatsoever. 

“I mean… she’s too quiet and shy in my opinion,” You give him a look again with a raised brow. “But,” he continues. “She seems like a nice girl, like you said.” 

“… yeah.” 

“Look, I won’t pry any further. You clearly don’t wanna tell me which is fine. I’m kinda hurt by that but it’s fine,” He tries to joke as you crack a saddened smile. “But I’m here if you wanna talk. Or share whatever is troubling that mind of yours.” 

“Thanks, Tae.” you almost whisper, bottom lip slightly pouting. 

Taehyung notices just as he finishes his cigarette. He tosses it onto the ground, puts it out by stepping on it with his slide. “Come here.” 

And he pulls you to him before you can protest. Cheek pressed against his chest, you hug him back as his warmth and scent envelopes you as well. 

“I’m gonna cry if we hug.” 

“Don’t cry, you’re gonna ruin my shirt.” Taehyung complains, causing you to giggle through your pain. 

“You’re such a menace. And you smell of cigarettes and beer.” you complain into his shirt. That’s not entirely true, he doesn’t smell bad at all. Those smells are mixed with his musky cologne. Taehyung smells fucking amazing. 

“Hey, you little shit. Leave me alone.” he laughs, tightening his hold on you before he slowly lets go. 

As you get back, you make your way to Yoongi's car where you put your things back. Ignoring some of the stares you feel on your back, you get inside the caravan for whatever reason. You need some time alone for a little longer.

You stand there, leaning against the small counter with your arms crossed over a chest, staring into nothing as the door open and click shut shortly after. Who's here again? No time for annoyance of your interruption, your entire posture straightens up and arms uncross at the sight of Jungkook. 

His features are firm for a second as the air inside the caravan suddenly feels too suffocating. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Jungkook doesn't miss the cold words, barely reacts as he lifts something in his hand into the air. "Namjoon was about to bring you this, but I snatched it out of his hands." he confesses, ignoring the way your heart falters at his honesty and at the sight of ointment in his own hand. 

"Why?" you ask simply and dumbly. 

He remains silent, closing the space between you as he comes to stand up in front of you. Without any words, he opens the package and scoots a small amount onto his two fingers. "Namjoon's always prepared," he mutters. You're guessing he's trying to fill up the silence and tension.

You watch him putting the ointment on the counter, arm almost brushing your side as you press your lips tightly. That's until he hesitates for a second, eyes searching your face before he gently turns your face to the side, undoubtedly to check on the scratch. It's no disaster, could've been worse. It stings but it's nothing you couldn't have survived.

"I can do it myself." you point out the obvious, voice cold and emotionless.

"Why are you so stubborn, hm?"

Wish you could give him an answer. One that would make sense. 

Jungkook continues to ignore the glare you give him as soon as his fingers inch toward your face. His eyes stay solely on your cheek. "This might hurt a little. I'll try to be gentle." 

Before you can protest, be the stubborn self that you are, he gently stars applying the product on your scratch. You frown and hiss at the same time, automatically flinching as Jungkook mutters a smooth apology but continues the task. Once he's done, he goes to wipe off his fingers from the ointment while your inner cheek is caged between your teeth. You bite harshly on the flesh, feeling like you're about to vomit any second from the emotions.

"Listen," he starts, but you panic and brush past him just for him to catch your forearm. 

"I gotta go." you stupidly inform him, blinking at him as if you had somewhere to be which is ridiculous – you both know that. 

"This went too far," Jungkook continues regardless of your stupid attempt to leave. "I'm ready to talk if you are."

All you offer him is a nod, too busy getting out of the caravan to hear the sigh leaving his mouth. You get to your previous spot, damp hair framing your face as you reach for a bottle of beer. By the time you came back, they had to open a new package considering you've been drinking out of cans before. 

There's a conversation going on, but you're not that stupid not to notice how Seokjin's voice falters for a moment as they notice you joining them. Looking up after the few gulps, you visibly shrug at them. 

"I'm okay, it's just a scratch. I'm sorry about the drama." you mutter the last sentence, knowing each of them has heard you. 

Across the fire, Taehyung's features twist in silent compassion. 

"It's okay," Seokjin assures you as the rest of them nod and hum in agreement. Jungkook comes out of the caravan, fingers running through his hair making them slightly messy as he plops onto his own spot next to Ester. "We all fight and argue. Don't feel bad. Both of you." 

You and Jungkook nod in return, mirroring each other's actions without any words. 

It's crazy how one stupid argument can change things between people. So much that it not only affects your entire day, but your sleep as well. After yesterday's night ended with everyone too tired to continue to talk and drink. You all have had enough. There's no need to get drunk to get wasted on your first night here. Even though a few reasons could've been found, you know better than that. You were tipsy enough to stumble to your tent along with Yoongi, showing him your middle finger as he kept complaining about having to share a sleeping space with you.

You told him to fuck off and he laughed, falling asleep shortly after. You've kept tossing around, waiting for him to wake up and cuss you out for it but he hasn't. He slept deeply, turned to you with his back as soft snores left his mouth here and there. Luckily not loud enough to disturb your lack of sleep.

When after hours of silence and darkness, your eyes shut on their own and so did your mind. The dreams are more disturbing than ever, not allowing you to have at least a peaceful sleep. You kept having mixed dreams of you and Jungkook arguing along with flashbacks of what happened on that stupid dare. Something random got mixed up there too, overall just weird dreams following you until the morning. 

Namjoon's hike is planned for today. It shouldn't take a whole day, two to three hours max but you still refrain yourself from going.

You're not necessarily avoiding Jungkook, but you're not looking to be in his presence either. Not that you don't want to be. But considering there's still lingering tension between you, you don't want to make things even more out of hand or weird. This is not something worth ruining your friendship with him. And you plan to talk to him. Finding the right time is the tougher part though.

You need to grow a pair of balls to do the next step. It's the least you could do. Jungkook came to you yesterday, told you he's ready to talk. And by doing that, he made the first step of approaching you.

Judging how empty he looks like the next morning tells you enough that it has taken a toll on him as well. None of you want this. But you two are also the only ones who can solve everything. Whenever there were previous arguments happening, you've always managed to talk about it in the end. This time it takes longer because you're both stubborn – and got hurt in the process. At the same time, you remind yourself of realizing every moment how stupid all of this is. Seriously, it's ridiculous. 

"Hey, are you joining us?" Maya asks you, tying her shoelaces before she stands up and faces you. 

"No, I think I should stay here. Think things through." you confess, trying to mirror the smile she gives you. 

She's not blind. She saw that you and Jungkook haven't obviously talked. You appreciate she doesn't ask for any details, which is kind of surprising considering her constant nosiness, but you guess she can tell you don't want to talk about it. 

"You know..." she starts hesitantly, "Jealousy is disease," she starts and laughs lightly, but her voice remains soft indicating she means no harm. "But it's also a human emotion. Don't beat yourself over it. We've talked about this and the only solution is--"

"To talk to him." you finish for her. She nods. "I will. He came up to me yesterday, I'm sure you noticed."

She raises her brow and gives you a guilty smile which gives you an answer.

"He said he's ready to talk."

"And you're not?"

Opening your mouth, you're interrupted by oblivious Hoseok who informs Maya that it's time to go. You usher her to go. "We'll talk later."

She nods, giving you a smile in encouragement as she hops off to Namjoon who smiles down at her, wrapping his arm around her frame as he brings her closer.

Since most of them are going on a hike, people who decided not to go will logically prepare the lunch. You've got no problem with that. You gather all the prepared stuff, walking past Taehyung and Jimin's tent that remains shut. Taehyung is sleeping off the hangover.

You and Yoongi meet at the extinguished fireplace, his morning and puffy face a new sight to you. He gives you a glare when he sees your amused face, scratching the back of his head. Who would've pegged him for a sleepyhead? You're surprised he still decided to wake up and help, considering Taehyung flipped off whoever tried to wake him up.

"How's your cheek?" he asks, surprising you by the question and you don't hide it. He visibly shifts uncomfortably on his spot as your lips curl to a half-smirk. 

"Are you concerned about me, Min Yoongi?" 

"Fuck, no." he disagrees immediately, erupting a laugh from you. "You just look like you've been through hell."

Mental hell, you want to correct him.

"Of course I do. Your snores could wake up a dead person." you tease, laughing at the prominent frown on his face. 

"I don't snore loudly, you liar." he says, determined of his truth.

You shrug, "It was worth a try," He rolls your eyes. You still decide to give him an answer, finding it oddly touching that he asked. "It's fine. Hurts a little but it's nothing bad. I will live."

"What a shame." 

He cackles when you throw a plastic bottle at him. He dodges it with a smirk. 

"Must've been a hard fall to scratch your face," he hums, catching your eyes immediately as your glare warns him. "Didn't know you were that clumsy."

He's testing you. There's no way he knows what happened in those woods. He can only assume. Yet, he's here testing and teasing you. You muster the best neutral expression you can, stopping in your tracks. 

"We were there in complete darkness. It's completely normal to stumble or fall."

Yoongi hums in return, luckily not pressing you with his annoying teasing or whatever that was any further. After a minute of taking stuff in and out of the caravan to prepare food for lunch, you stare at Yoongi. His brows are furrowed, though he looks nothing but focused as you call out his name. 

"I'm sorry."

"Pardon?" he blinks. 

"That you had to experience yesterday... I didn't know my argument with Jungkook would get out of hand."

He stares, dumbfounded. "Why are you apologizing to me ?"

"Because I'm embarrassed by it. I really wanted you to have a good time here."

Yoongi sighs, scratching his temple awkwardly before he tosses the pack of meat onto the table. "I am having... a good time here. I would rather be home and chill on my couch," You raise your brow. "But you don't have to apologize to me because of that. That's between you and him."

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nod without looking at him as your thoughts come haunt you again. 

"And everyone's been pretty chill about it, as far as I know. I don't know your friends that much, but they seem to be chill."

"But it's still awkward and embarrassing." you confess weakly, rubbing your forehead with a little whine.

"Do you want my advice?"

"No."

Yoongi presses his lips tightly at the quick response, but still continues regardless. "Just talk to each other. I'm pretty sure you will figure it out. That man is ready to fight for you."

"What?"

"Oh, come on." he rolls his eyes. "He's so protective over you. Since the day I met him."

You know that. Jungkook has been your number one protector for the longest time. No one cares about you the way Jungkook does. Sure, Jimin and Taehyung are the best friends you could've asked for. But Jungkook? He has always had a soft spot for you. He's been the number one person you would go to with any problem. He would never judge you.

One bad look from another person and he would be there, ready to fight your own battles. He is like that with any of his friends. That's what makes him special. That's why everyone loves to have him as their friend. Jungkook is precious. 

But even precious people can piss you off, among other things. It's normal and just because you had some kind of dumb argument doesn't change that fact. Just as it shouldn't define your friendship. 

All emotions come crashing down on you. The regret and guilt, even the stupid anger you tried to justify several times. And for what? Because of your stupid jealousy? Your bottom lip wobbles and Yoongi's eyes widen, probably panicking that you could start crying any time. 

"Don't cry or I'm gonna throw up." 

You snicker, laughing through the pain as your lips naturally pout. Yoongi groans.

"You two are idiots. Besides, since when do you care about anyone else's opinion? Huh? I thought you don't give a fuck."

"I don't know, Yoongi... it seems like I care more than I show." you mockingly point out, hating that you just admitted that out loud. But well – he must've noticed that. 

"What do you want me to do? I'm starting to feel uncomfortable." he confesses with a frown on his lips. 

"Damn. A decent person would offer the other person a hug." you remark, ignoring Yoongi's dramatic lapping for a breath. 

"You want me to hug you?" 

You roll your eyes. "Want is a strong word, dude. But hugs can be nice and help. You act like you haven't done more than that."

Yoongi scrunches his nose. "We," he stops, "We don't talk about that night."

"I know what you're trying to say. It was a mistake." you tell him bluntly.

"It was... it was just a dumb decision at that time."

"That's what you would describe a mistake as." you state dumbfounded. 

"Whatever," he mutters. "Don't bring that up ever again."

"You're the one who's acting like a hug would kill you!" you exclaim with a laugh, hearing him scoff. 

"Oh my god. You're so annoying. Come here." he stomps toward you and before you even catch his words, he pulls you closer to him.

Min Yoongi is hugging you. Freaking Min Yoongi has his arm around your shoulders, patting them awkwardly as you bite back a laugh.

"Is it helping?" he mutters, continuing to pat your shoulder at the same pace as you snicker. 

"I feel weird." you inform him and he hums in confirmation. 

You hear nearby footsteps just as you both pull away from the hug, glancing in the direction of the sound. Jungkook stands a few feet from you two, awkwardly glancing around as he mutters; "Don't let me stop you."

He opens his car, rummaging through something inside until he pulls out his camera out of his camera bag. He shuts the door with a thud, sparing you one last glance before walking away and joining the others where a distant laughter can be heard. They're still around. 

Your mouth is open, closing slowly. What were you supposed to do? To try to convince him that it's not what it looks like? Nothing happened. You won't let your mind feed you with stupid scenarios. Yoongi hugged you, just as weird as it sounds, but there's no point in being dramatic. But the whole situation was slightly awkward and the awkwardness lingers even when Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Considering what you and him bickered about yesterday, you suddenly understand Jungkook's side more. You've brought here a guy you're not exactly friends with. You know Jungkook doesn't like him and the intention of inviting Yoongi to come along is more than clear. Has been from the beginning. After all, you've hooked up with Yoongi. It doesn't matter if you had a proper intercourse or just a part of it. 

You still have something to be upset about. And you are. But seeing it from his perspective makes you understand him more. Not that you make excuses for him. Not at all. You're still mad at what he said back at Taehyung's apartment. He's at fault too. 

You trade your positions, wondering how you would feel if Jungkook invited someone he hooked up with. Purely just to piss you off. Because he hasn't invited poor Ester because of that.

You've fucked up too. You started it.

"See? This is why I don't hug people." Yoongi complains in the back, turning back to his task with a disapproving shake of his head. 

What's so fucking hard on coming to Jungkook and ask him to talk to you? You back off like a coward every time you get the opportunity to do that, whenever he's not surrounded by everyone. That's hard as well. The man seems to be talking to everyone, but no words or looks are exchanged between you. 

Deciding to let it go for a moment, it's better when the right time comes naturally and you won't be stealing glances at him, your legs twitching to move to muster the courage to talk to him. He's Jungkook for fuck sake! 

The only reason why you're so nervous is simple and nothing new. You're scared you talking will only result in more arguing. It's natural and normal for two people with different opinions to argue. Not mentioning all of this is fresh. You can tell by your lingering annoyance and anger. But you should talk as soon as possible. You really don't want to spend the rest of this trip ignoring each other.

You just have to know – no matter what, everything is going to be okay. Even if it doesn't seem like that. 

They've returned from the hike two hours ago, and complimented the food you and Yoongi prepared, since Taehyung woke up in the midst of cooking, refusing to lend a helping hand. 

The constant heat has made all of you fan, deciding to go to the lake again. This time no one really stays behind as everyone wants to freshen up in the water. Even Yoongi which surprises you.

He flashes everyone with his soft skin and toned stomach. Your gazes meet with Maya as she mouths he does have abs to you. You can't help but roll your eyes, laughing at her.

Overall, the atmosphere is loosen up and you find yourself enjoying the moment even with your situation not being sold. You push it back, far away in your mind and focus on your relaxation. That's why you came here, right? 

"Y/N, come here. We need one more person!" Maya calls out to you, in the water with Namjoon and Jungkook. Further away, there are Seokjin and Taehyung swimming laps.

"For what?" you call out to them, the droplets on your skin already dried. 

"Wrestling!"

Oh.

Maya's clutched to Namjoon's back, ushering to come there as your throat goes dry. Jungkook awkwardly stands there, water reaching just around his hips as he avoids your gaze.

"I'm good!" you call to them, shaking your head as Maya frowns.

You don't want things to make it any more awkward but still. Something's holding you back and the thought of being close to Jungkook, even if it's in a completely innocent way, makes you want to stay here. Where it's safe. 

"Come on, it's gonna be fun! Ester can't play because she fears water!"

You know that. You glance at Ester who you've been sitting beside for the past twenty minutes. She shrugs apologetically, enjoying the sun instead as she flips through pages of a magazine that Maya brought. 

Looking at the couple again, not missing Jungkook either, you sigh and stand up. You ignore Maya's triumphal sounds as you make your way there. You have to try to make things better. 

"I'm not sure about this game, though." you mutter, half of your body already in the water as your eyes stay on Maya who gives you an encouraging smile. 

"I'll go easy on you." she teases, causing you to purse your lips. 

"I'm not a fan of water games in general. At least not this kind."

"You're no fun." she continues to tease, Namjoon grins in response. 

"Yeah, because getting pushed into water from someone's shoulders sounds like total fun." you mutter sarcastically.

Jungkook's lips twitch and he rubs his nose instead, trying to appear as if he's not present. Maya gets on Namjoon's shoulders, the two of them in their own loving episode for a moment as they giggle and talk. 

Turning to Jungkook, you clear your throat which makes him look at you. "I won't let you fall." he says, easing down your nerves.

He knows about your opinion of this without you even stating it. That alone makes your heart flutter. "You better not." you joke.

One corner of his lips lifts up in a poor attempt of a smile. The air is awkward but you visibly relax because it's not that bad at all. He turns around and lowers himself. Motioning you to get on his shoulders, you obey and touch his heated and wet skin. Ignoring the hard muscles, Jungkook helps you to lift yourself to his shoulders until you're sitting on him. You hesitate to touch him any further, but once he turns to Namjoon and Maya, you automatically panic and grab the top of his head. 

"This okay?" he asks silently, only for you to hear.

"Mhm."

No words are exchanged once again, the game officially starting. Jungkook stays true to his words. Whenever Maya takes her attack into action, Jungkook tries to dodge it by moving you and him. 

"Y/N, you gotta push me babe." Maya laughs.

"I don't like this game!" you complain. Second after, Maya goes to push you and you stumble, yelping and holding Jungkook for your dear life. 

The couple laughs.

Jungkook has a tight grip on your legs, securing you which makes you more confident. You still don't like this game. But when Maya starts her attack again, you grow annoyed and try to push her. She stumbles and Namjoon has a hard time staying balanced. Once they're balanced, Maya gasps and laughs at your attack. 

"What?" you grumble, "I can get competitive too." 

"That's not fair. You've got Jungkook on your team." Maya laughs through her complaint. 

"Hey!" Namjoon feigns offense. 

"You're great, baby, but look at Jungkook. They haven't stumbled, not even once." 

Namjoon shoots you an amused grin, shaking his head at his girlfriend as you start wrestling again. In the middle of it, your and Maya's girlie gasps, yelps and giggles resound around the lake. You both grow weak from all the laughter, both men urging one of you to win. The final blow happens when you're close to falling, Jungkook holding you tight and balancing you as he brings you closer to the couple. All you have to do is push some more as Maya stumbles and falls into the water. 

"Oh shit." you gasp, hands placed over top of Jungkook's head as Maya emerges from the water a second after. She's laughing which makes you sigh in relief. 

"That was so fun!" she says happily, kissing Namjoon as the couple gets into their own world again and you two end up staring at the couple making out right in front of you.

You clear your throat. Jungkook gets the hint and gets you off his shoulders, carefully and slowly until he makes sure you're okay. He's holding you until your feet touch the ground.

"Everything good?" he asks, which makes you nod at him.

"Yeah, thanks."

You both glance away just as Maya stops sucking off her boyfriend's face. "You guys. We were thinking about going on a short hike again. You wanna join?" 

"Yeah, I found this other trail and apparently there is some good view. It's like ten minutes from here." Namjoon joins.

"I--" You and Jungkook say at the same time. 

"Jimin, are you going with us too?" Namjoon asks approaching Jimin, his hair wet from the water too.

"Where?"

Namjoon explains his plan which makes Jimin shrug. "Yeah, sounds good. Are you guys going too?" he asks, eyes stopping at you and Jungkook. 

You're both quiet, none of you dare to say a word as Jimin raises his brow. His features turn stern, giving you a knowing look. 

"Yeah." You and Jungkook's voices collide but create the same answer. 

With Jimin tagging along, you do feel like being on a trip with a strict father who's silently watching your every move. It just might be your paranoia. The obvious distance between you and Jungkook seems to wordlessly prove his point. One game won't fix the issue. So won't a hike.

Jungkook keeps to himself for most part, saying short bits here and there. Maya walks ahead with Namjoon, the couple's hands locked together and surprisingly, Taehyung has decided to join at the last minute. You're happy about that though. Without him, you can't imagine what awkward silence there would be. Nor you or Jungkook talk much which is rare, something Jimin and Taehyung clearly notice but luckily decide not to comment. It's already awkward as it is.

You and Jimin somehow stay behind, walking slower than the rest as you see Jungkook taking pictures of Maya and Namjoon while Taehyung stands beside them, looking where he could possibly sit.

Looking at your friends, you feel Jimin's eyes on the side of your face which makes you silently chuckle. "Just say what you wanna say."

"Why do you think I wanna say something?" Jimin asks.

You give him a look which makes him chuckle softly. 

"I'm just checking on you. I don't think me telling you something is gonna fix things." Well, that's true. 

"I'm miserable, but I'm planning to fix it." you inform him instead.

He remains silent for a moment, maybe not quite sure what to say before he nods in understatement. 

"I talked to Taehyung." 

"What did he say this time?" you ask right away, no beating around the bush since you both know Taehyung very well. 

Jimin laughs silently, shaking his head. "He didn't tell me what you talked about." He clarifies which does make you slightly surprised. 

"Really?"

"Well I didn't exactly pry."

"We both know Tae doesn't need anyone to pry. He's gonna tell you stuff on his own." you joke, the two of you laughing at the honest description of Taehyung's personality. 

"Yeah, but he didn't this time." he assures you.

Taehyung possibly saying anything about your conversation to Jimin doesn't exactly affect you. You didn't tell him much details and even if you did, you don't mind. But it seems fair to talk to Jungkook first, explain your behavior to him first before you go around and talk about it to anyone else. Sure, Maya knows. But that's only because she figured it out on her own. That situation was different overall. 

"He just told me he talked to you. You seemed sad and I... I don't know. I'm sorry?" he questions, "I'm not sure what to say but I want you to know that you and Jungkook are gonna figure it out. Don't worry too much, okay?" he ends softly.

In the end, they all want what's best for you. And when they see one of you struggling, they are there for that person. 

"I know," you mutter just as softly, "Thanks."

As you join the others on top of the hill, Taehyung's in the middle of sentence when your sneakers slip against a bigger rock. You yelp, stumbling and ready for a fall before a hand clasps around your wrist and keeps you steady.

Mouth open and heart beating fast from the shock, you see a familiar set of eyes frowned in worry. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You clear your throat, Jungkook's touch fading just as Taehyung's voice.

You ignore the little smirk Maya tries to hide, feigning innocence as Namjoon subtly pokes her side.

Once you come back to the camping site, not much has changed. Everyone seems to be enjoying their time here and for that, you're glad. Your unnecessary drama with Jungkook has caused enough trouble. One that you're the cause of. You're stupid for opening your mouth and letting jealousy get the worst of you. Sure, you've both fucked up eventually, but you realize your mistake here. To truly resolve this, you and Jungkook must talk. 

Jimin has –purposely or not – given you the little push you might've needed. Though you're very aware of his inner thoughts and opinions he might've not talked about this time, you know he was being a good friend. He's trying to turn you in the right direction. 

However, getting to the actual task is not as easy as it seems.

Everyone's having a good time, including Jungkook who's more talkative than yesterday. Trying to talk to him will just attract everyone's attention, so you stupidly retrieve every time you think it's the right time to just call out his name and let him know you want to talk. 

Argh!

You're mad at yourself for making this difficult. 

But as the night comes and drinking continues, the atmosphere is too good to potentially mess it up. Jungkook's flushed cheeks and big doe eyes tell you he's already tipsy. If you want to have a proper conversation, you want both of you to be sober. To be fair, you've had a fair share of beer as well and it's better to sort this out later. 

You're leaving tomorrow though. And that thought makes you upset with yourself even more. You've managed to be on this camping trip without properly talking. Not only that, but you also haven't sorted anything which naturally makes you frustrated. Because… What's the big deal? He's Jungkook. It has always been easy to talk to him. 

You're aware of the embarrassment still lingering deep within your chest. And fuck. You haven't even confessed what caused your reaction last week.

It's a stupid argument.

And you also don't want to spend the rest of this camping trip overthinking stuff, nor spend it regretting something that can't be changed. So you focus on the people around you. You laugh, talk and enjoy your last night here because your other friends are here too.

It comes to midnight, most of the guys already gone, barely able to keep their eyes open. Ester and Jin went to sleep and shortly after, Maya and Namjoon joined them. You're thinking of it too, your eyes start to feel heavy and the previous effect of alcohol starts to wear off. Well, you surely haven't gotten wasted, which can't be said about Jimin and Taehyung. The two men cling to each other like a loving couple as they whisper their appreciation for their youth (as they called it). 

While they reminisce about their old times, Hoseok is close to tripping while Yoongi laughs and makes no effort to actually help him, you notice Jungkook. He has detached from the camping fire and the group, moving closer to the tall trees as your brows furrow. Already on your feet, you distance yourself from the noise and make your way to him.

“Jungkook!”

His steps falter before he glances over his shoulder. You watch the subtle surprise on his face, based on the way his brows lift up, before you're met with a perfect sight of his rosy cheeks and the effect alcohol has left on him. 

“Where the hell are you going?”

He gives you a lazy smile, one you haven't realized you missed. In fact, you've missed any kind of smile of his. This trip has been crazy which is a shame because you really hoped this one would take the cake.

He shrugs and while you're completely oblivious to his sudden drunken idea, you join him before he could get out of your sight. Not that he was trying to but you wouldn't want to risk it. Not a single person back there seems to be capable of possibly searching for missing Jungkook. 

You catch him by his wrist, you don't allow him to walk any further. “You're drunk.” 

Once again met with that lazy smile of his, he remarks: “So are you.”

“I'm tipsy. Not as drunk as you anyway.” you correct, his lips pouting a little.

“You didn't talk to me.” he admits silently.

Features faltering, your fingers twitch around his wrist as you slowly let go. “I wanted to.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Because we all drank a lot, Kook. I would rather talk about this when we're both sober.”

It is true. Though you should've talked to him sooner. You shouldn't have waited until well, it's too late to talk tonight anyway. Jungkook has given you the space to come to him when you want to talk. It seems like he's been waiting for you to approach him this whole  time. You've failed to do that. 

“Kook,” he laughs silently, your lips twitching in a mere amusement when you notice his toothy (and drunk) grin. “I've missed that.”

You offer him a saddened smile with thousands of emotions behind it, though you remain silent because what's the point of talking about it now. “Come on. Let's go back and sleep it off.” 

You tug the sleeve of his oversized hoodie, motioning from where you came from. Luckily, he ends up following you instead of taking a spontaneous walk in the dark woods or whatever he had planned. 

You're both shocked to find the fire extinguished and seats empty as everyone has seemed to go to sleep. Sighing, Jungkook simply waves you a goodbye as he stumbles to his tent. You watch him, wondering whether you should help him or not but in the end, he seems to manage as he disappears inside his tent. Rubbing your forehead, you decide to not stay outside any longer. Everything does have a different vibe with no one outside.

Unzipping your tent, you expect Yoongi to be sprawled all over the place utmost. What you don't expect however, is Taehyung there with him as the two men messily lay there. It even makes you pull out your phone and turn on your flashlight to make sure you're seeing right. Taehyung's legs are spreaded and outstretched, his arm thrown over Yoongi's chest while your usually annoying co-worker is gone just as much.

“Fucking great.” you mutter, nudging Taehyung's foot with your own. 

His lack of response and ignorance (from his obvious intoxication) causes you to be harsher with your movements which eventually makes a set of drunken curses be spat out at you. Knowing there's no point of trying to get him out of there, you zip the tent back up. Rubbing your forehead and keeping the frustration to yourself, you glance at Jungkook's tent before a silent groan slips past your lips.

Fucking Taehyung. 

Unzipping Jungkook's tent, you get inside just as he is still awake and very much drunk as lifts his head up to check the intruder. “Who are you?”

Rolling your eyes, you respond. “It's me.”

Leaving your shoes outside, you quickly zip the tent back up to avoid any insects getting inside. “Taehyung somehow ended up taking up my tent. You don't mind if I stay here, right?”

You turn your screen on, lighting up the dark space to see where you can lay down. Jungkook's face is scrunched at the bright light as you apologize before quickly laying down at the space beside him.

“'M–don't mind.”

Chuckling, you make yourself more comfortable as you turn to face him. When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you notice him laying on his back with hand over his chest.

“I should've talked to you today.” you mutter, wondering if he even hears you when you're met with silence.

But that doesn't last long when a silent sigh leaves him. “It's–mm–okay.”

“No, it's not. Look, I wasn't really acting right and I should've–”

“Let's talk about it tomorrow, m'okay?” he breathes out tiredly, turning onto his side as he faces you. “No fighting.”

You chuckle unsurely, embarrassed by your previous argument once again. That's until Jungkook pulls you closer to him, offering you his warmth which you gladly take. Scooting closer to him, face inches from his clothed chest and the familiar scent of him, he loudly sighs as a silence follows. 

That's until it's interrupted by incomprehensible slurs coming from Jungkook.

“What?” you ask, frowned while trying to understand him.

“'M sorry.” Is all he says before completely dozing off. 

As the birds start to chirp and the air gets a little too warm, you're shaken out of your sleep despite the sleepiness making you dizzy. In and out of your consciousness, going back to sleep is not something that comes easy. Especially when memories of yesterday night start to slowly click in once you crack your eyes open, finding yourself in a different tent. 

Soon, with your conscience more present, you realize the warm air is not the only thing that keeps you warm. You've managed to get out of the sleeping bag, probably when sunrise has hit the sky and it started to get a little too unbearable in this tent. However your back feels like it's burning. With your legs intertwined with – what you soon realize – Jungkook's, his arm draped over your waist and chest pressed against your very much burning back. 

To find yourself in this position again causes you to be unsure of how to react. You hate how comforting it feels like, especially after everything you both have been through. There's still a lot to talk about, something you should most likely do before this trip comes to an end. However, you still wish to stay in this position a little longer. Perhaps acting like nothing's wrong for a while won't hurt anybody. 

Jungkook's body temperature does make you shift, your bodies rubbing as you finally notice the undoubted erection he's sporting in his shorts. That alone causes your pulse to quicken up, heat spreading all over your face as if you were the one with obvious erection. While aware that this is something he can't always control, it does feel slightly superior to experience this again. The close and intimate position causes you to feel more than it normally would. His cock is nestled between your asscheeks and you have no idea what to do with this information. 

While you're trying to keep your cool about it (and dissuade yourself from acting upon your secret sexual wishes), Jungkook is bound to wake up by the little shift you make when you start feeling the first traces of sweat. Still, when he shifts in his spot you tense up. 

"Ignore it." he says simply and completely groggily, proving he has just woken up. 

There's a couple of things you could do right now. But you should also be more logical than you've been over the past week or so. That's why you ignore any devilish scenarios there could potentially happen, obeying his first morning words. 

Jungkook unwraps his body from yours, turning onto his back with a soft groan. Stretching his limbs, he sits up with messy hair while shooting you a sideways glance. Turning on your back and exposing your face to him, you both share a glance of pure nothing. You two just have a quick look at each other before Jungkook rubs his face while yawning. 

"Is anyone awake?" he asks.

Shrugging, you answer. "I don't know, I just woke up." 

"Right." he nods. 

Why is everything suddenly so awkward? 

"Well, I'm gonna make myself something to eat. You want something too?" he asks while gathering his shirt nearby, covering his torso with it. 

When you don't answer, he glances back at you which shakes you out of your trance. "Ah, maybe? I don't know what's left." 

"I'll go check." 

And he's out of the tent, leaving you alone with not only messy hair but messy mind as well. Deciding not to lay there long enough for you to overthink everything from the start, you put your slides on and join Jungkook outside. You find him rummaging through a few packages of snacks that have been left on the outside table, scratching the back of his head. 

He heard you walking toward him, shooting you a short glance. "There's nothing much left. I guess the rest of the food is in the caravan." 

As Jungkook is ready to go there, you tug onto his hoodie to stop him. "You're gonna wake them." 

Everyone seems to be still asleep. You have no idea what time it is, but it's definitely too early for you two to be awake too. Especially when you went to sleep last. You could definitely use more sleep but that's not currently possible. Your mind is whirling with never-ending thoughts, so there's no point in attempting to fall back to sleep. 

"So? I'm not gonna stay hungry." Jungkook pouts, clearly not liking the thought of not eating his precious breakfast which let alone makes you chuckle because you're very aware of his disappointment. 

"I'm not sure if there's much left anyway." 

Seokjin did mention something about possibly running out of food yesterday, but no one really bothered to sort it out right then. It was too late anyway and everyone started drinking. 

"Maybe we should go and buy something." you propose, avoiding Jungkook's pair of eyes on you as you busy yourself while looking around. 

Things are still tense, at least too tense for you two, and just because you talked a little yesterday and today too doesn't mean everything is alright. Though you at least communicate with each other, woke up in a close proximity fully cuddling each other. 

"Alright," he sighs in the end. "Let me just go wash my face and brush my teeth."

"Yeah, I gotta do that too." you murmur before both of you get ready. 

While you do your morning routine and share a bottle of water to wash your face and rinse your mouth, there are no words spoken or even uttered. You both change to more clean and suitable clothes. Jungkook has abandoned his hoodie and is wearing his casual oversized black shirt with a pair of new shorts. You've decided to wear one of your summer dresses. It's not like there will be any opportunity to wear it on this trip since you haven't gone to the town yet. 

Being back in Jungkook's car brings you a weird sense of nostalgia though that's definitely a bit dramatic. You've been fighting for a week, in any case, it shouldn't be that serious at all. Is it weird to say you're glad to be here? 

You and him are in the car together, listening to some music like any other times you've gone on a ride together. Pretty sure both of you can sense how there's this odd tension between you two, you both ignore it and go to the nearest convenience store. Once you're done, you find a hot-dog stand and decide to have your breakfast there. Jungkook pays, ignoring your useless attempt of pulling out your wallet which leaves you to mumble an appreciative thanks . He waves you off, silently telling you not to mention it. 

When you get back, everyone's still sleeping. Jungkook sets the grocery bag onto the table when you approach him, nervously and unsure as you mutter his name. 

"Hm?" 

"Can we talk?" you ask, his movements pausing as he sets the bottle of coke down. 

You both know what that means. 

"Sure. Here?" he questions. 

"Let's take a walk." you offer, causing him to nod as he follows you. 

You decide to take a walk to the lake, knowing there's a short bridge where you can comfortably sit and talk in a peaceful and quiet surrounding with no interruptions. As you sit down on the hardwood, Jungkook joins you as you both take the time staring ahead and breathing in the summery air. Fiddling with your fingers in your lap, you steal a glance at Jungkook who catches you almost immediately. It leaves your cheeks warm as you let out a chuckle, the amusement dancing on his face. 

"I don't know how to start," you admit truthfully. "But I know I should explain myself, I should have from the start actually... but never mind. I should explain why I acted that way at Tae's place." 

"We both let things get out of hand." he mutters and you nod.

"Yes, but I started it. Which makes me embarrassed that I let myself act like that in front of not just you, but Jimin and Taehyung as well." 

"Why did you then?" 

"Because I was jealous of Ester." you let out the painfully awkward words out. 

But for the first time since the argument, you feel the weight on your chest slowly dropping. 

Jungkook snaps his eyes toward you, looking shocked and confused as ever. "Jealous? What? Why?" 

"It's stupid," you chuckle nervously. "I never had to share you with any other girl. I mean—like a friend. You never brought any girl into our group and I guess I felt threatened in a way. I know it sounds stupid and I swear I'm not possessive or anything like that! Ester is actually nice and I felt like a total bitch the entire time here, even before we came here." 

"It never crossed my mind this could be the case. I'm sorry." Jungkook mumbles slowly, still gathering his thoughts. 

"Kook, I'm the one who's sorry. I overreacted. I should've talked to you sooner or explained myself right there at Tae's. But I decided to be stubborn and childish, I wasn't truthful because I didn't want to admit out loud that I was just jealous." 

"I gotta admit I was pretty clueless back then. I didn't know why you were suddenly so against Ester. It just—it got out of hand, I guess we both can agree with that," You nod. "I didn't act right too. I shouldn't have said some of the things I did." 

"We both shouldn't have," you add. "And it did hurt hearing you comparing me to her. That made me even more upset, which only escalated." 

"I—" He stops himself, sighing as he closes his eyes almost painfully. "That came out wrong. I wasn't trying to compare you two. What I meant by that was just... I couldn't understand why you got so hostile about her going and I thought you would understand that since you were in her position too. You know how hard it can be making friends. Which doesn't excuse any of my reactions, I'm just trying to explain myself too." 

"No, I know. It feels nice to finally talk about this openly," you assure him. "And I admit my mistake here too. I was acting like that because I was jealous." 

"There's no need for you to be jealous, Y/N." Jungkook assures you, softly and with a pinch of lightness to his voice which both makes you chuckle gently and silently.

"And then you assumed the whole tent situation and I just bursted. I was sensitive because of my emotions." 

"I'm sorry. I clearly wouldn't assume you share it with her if you didn't want to. It was a mere idea." he mumbles. 

"I know. In other cases I would be completely fine with it. But I wasn't because..." 

"Because you got jealous." he finishes for you, things starting to make more sense to him. 

"... yeah." 

"I meant it. Ester is my friend but she's never going to replace what you and me have. I'm serious." 

You find Jungkook staring right back at you, making sure you see how serious he is about that and it does offer you everything you've needed. Assurance. 

"I'm sorry, Kook. I really am. It all got messy and if I knew my reaction would end up with us fighting, I would keep my mouth shut. I even invited Yoongi for fuck sake!" you exclaim, Jungkook snickering under his breath. 

"Yeah, you totally did that just to piss me off." 

You offer him a weak attempt of a sheepish smile. It's all good though, it causes him to laugh because he knows . 

"I'm sorry too, if I hurt you. I want you to know I never meant it the way you took it. It wasn't right for me to say some of the things too. I got frustrated and annoyed. I also want you to know that I get hurt and upset too." he admits silently, almost as if he's scared to say it out loud. 

It causes your features to twist into sadness and empathy as you nod. 

"I'm nowhere near perfect. I fuck up too." he adds. 

"We both fucked up. But I guess I'm the bigger culprit in this." You try to joke, but Jungkook only glances at you with a soft gaze. 

"We were both stupid and petty. There's no need to point fingers at who was worse. Let's just leave it at that." 

You stay in silence, hearing the birds flying here and there as they chirp in the background. For a moment, you feel like you can't think. There are no thoughts in your mind, yet it feels like your head is suddenly going to burst with them. 

Feeling overwhelmed is an understatement in this situation and before you know it, your eyes sting and water. Sniffling silently, you catch Jungkook's attention and you know there's no point in hiding it anymore. 

"It just got all so messy!" you cry out, Jungkook's mouth opening and features twisting in sadness. 

"Come here," He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side as he hugs you. "We are both idiots. But we talked about it and apologized. So no crying, hm?" he offers, gently pressing a kiss on top of your head. 

You chuckle through your tears, giving him a weak nod. "I just can't believe we took it this far." 

Jungkook hums, keeping you close to him. 

"I don't want to lose you, Kook." 

"You're not going to lose me, silly." 

"But we never argued like this!" 

"You also never got jealous before. We never had any other female friends around." he says lightly, trying to assure you that it's alright because you do need that assurance. 

"It's your fault." you click your tongue, poking his side as he lets out a dramatic gasp. 

"My fault?" 

"Yes, I told you I'm not allowing any girls in our group." you joke, giving him a look which causes him to laugh.

He throws his head back before he stares for a little longer, laughter slowly dying down as he gently pokes your cheek. "You were also wasted at that time. I didn't think you would take it this seriously." 

"It's fine," you assure him. "It was stupid of me to get this jealous." 

"Well, I can assure you that there's no other Y/N, alright?" he teases, nudging your side as you feel your cheeks heaten up once again, a shy smile crossing on your lips.

You have to be honest. It feels fucking great to hear him say that. This way it feels like him having any other possible female friends is no big deal. You've always known what you and Jungkook have is special. You've had that since you met him and her closer. It was dumb of you to question that but well, jealousy is a disease. It's a vile emotion. 

The silence follows shortly after, the memories coming back to you as you let out a sigh. "We fought like petty kids. But you know what actually made me upset? The first night here. In the woods." 

Jungkook looks at you, giving you all the attention as you take the cue to continue. 

"I wasn't upset with you. I was upset with myself for letting our friendship get to this point. Since when do we solve our problems by fucking through them?" 

Jungkook opens his mouth, though no response comes out of it. 

"I don't regret it. I think we acted upon our frustration and damn, we had lots of it." 

"We sure had. The sex was good though." 

You snicker, nudging him this time as he laughs. "It was. But once it was over, I got this anger at myself. I thought 'what did we do with our friendship?'. But thinking of it now, a part of me is like, but what's the big deal? I don't know if I make any sense right now."

"No, you do. I mean... I knew you were mad, I didn't know why exactly but when you said something like this didn't happen, I knew you're upset." 

"I agreed to that sex, Kook. I wanted it." You make sure he knows that. You don't see inside his head, but you need to know that there's not an ounce of regret of what happened in those woods. For a moment it was thrilling and the only thing you felt like you needed. You're upset because you felt that way. Not because it happened. 

"It got all too much for me. From the argument a week ago to the point where we couldn't stand each other. I just asked myself what we have become?" 

Jungkook hums in acknowledgment. 

"Maybe we should take a break?" you ask. 

You've never thought of it earlier on. Damn, you're not even sure how this came out all of a sudden. Just a sudden idea that currently makes sense. Though, you're not sure about it completely, talking to Jungkook about it seems like the first step. 

"A break?" 

"From the sex. Learn how to be best friends again." 

"Weren't we best friends all this time?" he chuckles. 

You know what he means. Regardless of your intimate life together, outside of it you were still the same. Perhaps you're just overreacting and are still upset over how you dealt with things instead. Actually, you're sure that's why. But maybe this could be beneficial for you two. 

So you tell him exactly that, met with a moment of silence before he breaks it. 

"I'm not sure what to say. I don't wanna say anything to disregard you. If this is what you want or think is right, I'm up for it." 

"You don't think a break could be... good?" 

"I mean, we don't know unless we try." he shrugs. "I told you whenever you want to end this, we can. You're in control of this too." 

"I don't regret having sex with you, Kook." 

He chuckles but once he sees your raised brow, he clears his throat and rubs the tip of his nose gently. "I know you don't. I wasn't thinking of that at all." 

"I just want you to know." 

"I know, don't worry." he smiles. 

"So, it's all behind us?" 

"Of course. Fighting with you fucks me up more than you think." he laughs as you join. 

"God, everyone witnessed our bickering and childish behavior." you whine, hiding your face in your hands as Jungkook rubs your back before he retrieves his hand. 

"Fuck them. Who cares?" 

"I do," you whine. "That shit was embarrassing. So embarrassing that I even apologized to Yoongi the other day. He was trying to console me but he's pretty shit at it." 

Jungkook only snickers. 

"That's when you came in. It wasn't what—"

"You don't owe me any explanation, okay?" he says gently, brushing a strand of hair off your face. 

"And he actually fingered me when we—I lied." 

Jungkook chokes on his spit, coughing. "What?" 

"I mean—I lied but didn't realize it. I was so out of it that I couldn't remember properly. It wasn't my fault, it was yours actually." 

"My fault?" Jungkook laughs, amused. 

"Mhm." You don't tell him that his sex capability literally makes you lose your mind sometimes. "I just had to set the record straight."

"Well, thanks for letting me know your co-worker fingered you as well. Thanks for the kindness." he mutters under his breath, shooting you a grin when you slap his thigh. 

"We're good?" 

"We're good, stupid." he laughs, hugging you to him as you hug him back. 

Burrowing your head in his chest, you smile for the first time in a long time. Genuinely. 

"You guys made up?!" 

You slowly pull off from each other, looking behind you to find shirtless Taehyung, very much awake and not hungover like you would've expected him to. He's got experience, you guess. 

"Finally!" 

He claps loudly, catching the attention of others as you slowly make them come closer to Taehyung. Jimin frowns, asking something as Taehyung responds. Jimin shoots you a thumbs up. 

"Now fuck each other's brain out!" 

Looking at each other with Jungkook, you both burst into laughter. 

"I'm gonna kill him." 

You hope not everyone has heard that but luckily, there's only Jimin next to him who slaps his back which causes Taehyung to completely ignore him as he shoots you a boyish grin, not forgetting to wiggle his brows at you. 

"Yup. Me too." Jungkook says, standing up as he offers his hand to help you stand up. 

You gladly take it, the two of you smiling at each other before you join the others.

[flowercrowngods]

hello i’m attempting something for steddie week too, but it'll be one large thing probably @steddie-week

day 01: pining

2 new messages

eddie The Problem munson: —steeb —esteban —stefano  —stevie —love of my life apple of my eye pls pls tell me i can call you  —i am very chill etc etc —no i’m not  —let me call youuuu  —😠🥺🙏

Steve snorts as he picks up his phone and reads Eddie’s messages that keep coming in his usual spam of consciousness, a giddy feeling spreading in his chest as he snorts and goes to answer. 

— Call me then, coward 

Not a second later, his phone rings. Steve picks up immediately, even though he considers making Eddie wait; just to be difficult. Just to calm his racing heart that is always so lively around Eddie. 

“What,” he says, attempting to sound bored and annoyed — in vain, because even he can hear the smile on his face. Traitor, he thinks to himself. 

“Steve,” Eddie sing-songs, drawing out Steve’s name like he does every time he’s happy. “Steve, Steve, Stevie.” 

“Ed, Ed, Eddie,” he sings back, relaxing into his couch and shutting the laptop. Lesson planning can wait, he decides, shuffling all the loose pages into the text book and placing his laptop on the pile, trusting that physics won’t betray him. “What’s got you so happy, hm?” 

“Why do you think I’m happy?” Damn idiot has a smile on his face as he asks that, Steve can hear it. It makes his own grin widen and he huffs into the phone. 

“I literally know you, babe.” 

Babe. His heart flutters every time he says it — and he tries not to, because it’s meaningless, it’ll never happen. But Eddie picks it back up every time, and Steve is weak. God, he is so, so weak. 

On the other end, Eddie hums and Steve basks in the sound for a moment. It’s always so contagious, Eddie’s happiness, and he wants to soak it all up. Wants to be the reason for it. Wants, wants, wants. 

“You do,” Eddie says, his voice so light and fond it makes Steve’s whole body tingle. And his heart flutter. And it fills him with such happiness that he feels like he could take on the entire world right now, just with the way Eddie’s voice went all soft on him. 

God, he’s hopeless. So, so hopeless. But he’s also weak. An addict, leeching off Eddie’s attention, getting a kick out of the smallest dose, and absolutely certain he couldn’t survive if it were taken from him. He needs it. Even if it kills him a little bit, because— 

“She said yes.” 

Steve blinks. “Huh?” 

“Chrissy. She said— She said yes, Stevie. We’re getting married.” 

He says it and he sounds so happy. So, so happy. And Steve is the world’s worst best friend for the way he freezes, the way he almost drops his phone if it weren’t for the vice grip he has on it, frozen in time and space because his heart has stopped beating. It has stopped, surely, because no beating heart can hurt this much. No beating heart can crack open and still work the way it used to three, five, seven seconds ago. 

Eddie, bless his entire soul, laughs to fill the silence, and it’s the happiest sound. A boyish one, like there is no pain in the world and not a worry on his mind. A bit hysterical, too. Like he can’t believe it himself yet. Like this is the best day of his life and saying it again has reminded him of it. At least that’s what Steve imagines it feels like when someone wants to be married to you. He wouldn’t know, of course, as the only person he would ever ask is already engaged to someone else. Apparently. 

Eddie is engaged. 

Engaged and laughing and so, so happy. 

And Steve feels nauseous. Dizzy. Breathless. His eyes begin to sting and the hand that’s holding his phone begins to tremble, his grip so tight it hurts. 

Steve feels… too much. His hands tremble and he tries hard not to cry. 

“You’re getting married.” 

“We’re getting married.” 

They’re getting married. 

Fuck. 

Someone has to tell Robin. Because in true Platonic Soulmate manner, Steve and Robin fell in love with the two people who are in love with each other. Like the chaotic mess they are. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner,” Eddie continues, a bit more sober now. Sounding genuine and sufficiently awkward about it, in true Eddie-manner. Like the big old softie he secretly is. “I would have, but…” 

But I know you’re in love with me and didn’t want to burden you with the love I carry for someone who isn’t you, Steve’s brain auto-fills helpfully. But you keep flirting with me and there was never room for someone else when I was with you. 

But, but, but— 

He swallows and drags in a deep breath past the pain in his throat where all the words he can never say are forming a massive lump. 

“Hey man, don’t worry about that, we all know I suck at keeping secrets,” he offers. And it’s a lie, because he has kept this one thing secret for years and years. This one thing, this huge and all-encompassing thing that he can feel in the tips of his fingers when he is texting Eddie, and on his tongue when they are talking, and in his heart even when he is sleeping. 

This one thing, this one secret, is his never-ending love for Eddie. 

And he will add another one to that, a lovely little friend for it. To keep it company. That other secret, of course, will be the way his heart has shattered into a million little pieces and will remain that way until he can’t even look at Eddie anymore. And even then will he look at Eddie and smile at him, and Eddie will smile back and the pain will flare up again.

Again and again and again, for the rest of their lives. Possibly even beyond that. 

“You do suck at that,” Eddie chuckles, though it is quieter this time, almost private. Fond. Gentle. Always, always like that. It used to mean something once. And if Steve closes his eyes, he can imagine that Eddie smiles his secret smile, the one Steve has only seen directed at himself. It almost breaks him. 

Eddie’s I have known you for a whole eternity and love you beyond words, silly, but you also make my life so much harder-smile. That’s what he has dubbed it because that is what Eddie had said the first time he smiled like that when Steve was drunk off his ass. 

But. But, but, but— 

It’s no use to think of that now, to reminisce and imagine what might have been if… Well. If Steve weren’t Steve. 

And that sure is a dark path he doesn’t want to trudge now, not in the face of the even darker path of Eddie getting married that he sure as hell will have to walk down for the rest of his life. 

He sighs and tries to think of something to say. Something good. Something that is not Please don’t marry Chrissy. Please don’t take yourself away from me. Please. Please don’t get married to anyone who isn’t me. Please open your eyes and see me, please listen to me, please understand what I say when I say I love you. Please.  

He kind of spaces out for the rest of the conversation, not really listening to Eddie’s words over the ringing in his ears and the pumping beat of his shattered heart. 

Eddie speaks softly to him, the undercurrent of happiness and contentment still in his voice, and it would give Steve life, it would be contagious, it would be so very precious if it didn’t also drive the knife of pain ever deeper into Steve’s entire soul, slicing him apart with no one around to put him back together again.  

Splitting him in half. One half that just wants Eddie to be happy, to sound like he does right now for ever and ever. And the other half, loathing that Eddie’s happiness is not inspired by him, not because of him, not in any sort of relation to him. 

It’s not fair. And Steve is torn. So he shuts himself off and lets Eddie ramble, tells him that he is tired after pulling an all-nighter again and wrangling the his difficult seventh graders that were particularly hard on him today when the other man asks him if he is all right. 

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, and a traitorous tear rolls down Steve’s cheek at the caring exasperation he hears there. “How often do I need to tell you that sleep is important? You’re gonna wear yourself out at this rate. And the kids just suck.”  

“I know,” he says, and sniffs, willing the tears to not fall. Not until Eddie has hung up on him. 

“Aww. That emotional, huh?” 

At that, Steve sobs out a laugh and gladly accepts the way out. “Well, excuse me, my bestest friend whom I love very much is getting married soon! Or, well, I hope it’s soon, nobody has time for all that suspense. Anyway, I am allowed to be emotional about this!” 

Eddie chuckles again and sighs gently. “Yes, you are. I’m glad you are. Thank you, Stevie.” 

Don’t thank me. Not for this. Not over this, please, don’t thank me. 

“Don’t thank me,” he says with a grin, and it hurts his cheeks from how forced it is. “Thank yourself for being brave enough to actually go through with the proposal! We both know you’re chicken shit.” 

Just like me, he thinks. Just like me. 

They laugh and it sounds hollow to Steve’s ears. He just wants the phone call to end, wants this to be over with. Wants them to not get married. Never, ever, in this life or the next. 

He wants… he wants Robin. No, he needs his best friend, his soulmate. He can’t cry alone, not about this. 

Eventually, Eddie hangs up, that smile still so audibly his lips, and that painful happiness still very clear in his voice. Steve wants to share it. But he can’t.

All he can do is stare at the phone in his trembling hand before he closes his eyes and lets himself cry, his head falling back against the couch until he slumps over to one side. He stares and he cries until he can’t anymore. 

Eddie. The love of his life. Is getting married. To Chrissy, the other, platonic love of his life, who is like a sister to him. Who, coincidentally, is the love of his real platonic soulmate’s life.

Fucking hell, the mess they find themselves in!

After a while of pitifully staring at the wall, all cried out and feeling thoroughly pathetic, he lifts his phone and speed-dials Robin. 

“Stevie?” 

He sniffs, and it must sound as awful as he feels, for her next words are, “I’ll be right there. Alcohol or ice cream?” 

“Both?” he whimpers after a moment, and Robin hums right back. 

“I’ve got you. I’ll be there in ten.” 

She hangs up before he can say anything more, and he is overcome with all the love he holds for her. 

As he waits for her to come over, he does not move from the awkwardly half curled-up position on his couch, the lesson plans for tomorrow forgotten completely. This is his life now. His Eddie-less life. His engaged-Eddie life. His loveless, hopeless, endlessly pitiful life. 

come back tomorrow for: bittersweet & angst | read here

[moldypoff]

God, I want to make a fanfic where you kill (accidentally or not) Jimmy after you find out that he assaulted Anya and the crash doesn’t happen but now you have to deal with the consequences.

Even if you do the “morally right” thing everyone’s gonna hate you (they won’t say it but they’ll think it).

With the way Pony Express operates I think Curly will have to severely punish you. Either A. Lock you up in a secluded space for the rest of 8 months or B. Kill you, as per policy because you’re mentally unstable and at risk of harming the rest of the crew.

Besides the mental strain that’ll be on just you for the next few months, everyone else has to bear the consequences as well.

(Elaboration under the cut)

Explaining the situation to the company and cops is going to be hell for Anya, because when you explain that you did it on Anya’s behalf they’re immediately going to assume that she may have been an accomplice/and or orchestrated the attack. Not even that but you’ll permanently stain her already half-baked resume since this can be seen as her being an ineffective healthcare provider since she’d clearly misjudged your mental state during psyche evals.

What’s worse is that Curly might not get that promotion because of you since he failed, as Captain, to settle the dispute. Not only did you kill his long term friend but you ruined his life and now he has to deal with keeping everyone calm and Jimmy’s rotting body on the ship.

Daisuke? Considering you’re probably the closest to him out of everyone in the crew because of his friendly personality he’s going to feel so betrayed on top of stressed from living in the environment you created for the next few months. Again, rotting body. Next, everyone’s going to have to decide on how to collectively come up with a solid strategy to get out of this somewhat or completely scot free WHILE continuing to perform their usual tasks on the Tulpar.

Swansea’s probably furious right off the bat. Not just because he already know’s there’s going to be so much work when you all get to your destination (too which he will simultaneously be unemployed), but because he thought you were better than this. Jimmy’s an asshole and rapist, but you? Adding to their troubles of already being laid off and traumatizing them at the same time just because you felt like playing hero? You’re almost just as bad as Jimmy.

Of course they didn’t know how things would play out if they kept Jimmy alive, but is this really any better?

They’re filled with impending doom, they need to keep the smelly, rotting crime scene untouched to prove their innocence, and worst of all they probably still have to take care of you, if you’re alive, AND take over your tasks for your role on the ship as well as Jimmy’s.

Inspiration + Reflection:

Tbh I feel like this is a good reflection of how society treats heros. I remember hearing about this dude who had his daughter SA’d and out of pure rage he killed her abuser, and upon realizing that he was going to jail he went on a spree to kill as many predators and rapists as he could.

That man will never see freedom again but he saved countless young girls and women from being taken advantage of.

It’s also interesting to think about the families and friends of the predators and rapists. Did they even know about what their friend, brother, or husband was up to? Do they comprehend the sheer capacity for cruelty at which this person they trusted operates themselves at? And are they sad to see them go? Are they mad at the person who took them away? Are they willing to accept the fact that they were a bad person or do they desperately cling to the memory of them when they were ‘good’?

I’d really like to explore these topics with multiple endings. Writing a whole fanfic is hard man- I’d rather just get to the important stuff, I’m sorry 😭

Speaking of, I have a couple in mind.

Endings:

Estimated reader satisfaction: # / 5

Bad Ending: -1 - 0 / 5

Everyone dies under the pressure of it all.

Mini Bad Ending: 0.5 - 1 /5

Curly kills you.

Neutral ending#1: 1/5

You live, everyone’s alive (except for Jimmy, duh), all of the expected consequences occur, you’re in jail, you all go your separate ways and struggle like hell. (The most realistic ending.)

Neutral ending#2: 3/5

You only kill yourself. Everyone else is proven innocent and gets to live a somewhat “normal” life, but is forever haunted by your sacrifice.

Good: 5/5

Pony Express is sued, and you all (well… maybe except for you) are awarded a shit ton of money in compensation. You all live happily ever after (you’re actually in jail but the others can easily bail you out). <- Very unlikely, kinda vanilla if you ask me, but fix-it AUs do go hard tho, I just wouldn’t write it myself.

Side notes: Did I remind you that Anya’s pregnant this entire time? Also, this can serve as justification for Curly for his ‘inaction’. If this were him instead of you it might be two times-ish harder on him to be honest.

[beecanons]

idk if you’ve done this already but how the mlp characters would react to reader having a panic attack?

have no mlp hc so far! going with main six from fsim

Twilight Sparkle when the reader has a panic attack

a bit taken ack at first she's used to being the one having panic attacks due to stress not used to seeing others panic too much

thankfully though, because of this, she knows plenty of tips to help she'll make a mental list of things to try help you calm down

starts with breathing and counting getting your breathing on track is a top priority and counting is a pretty useful trick could be counting your breathing or taking deep breaths while counting anything else

if your thoughts are a mess and spiraling she'll try helping you rationalize giving reason to irratic thoughts can also help someone relax reassurance is one of the best ways to ease worries

if you want a hug afterwards, she'd be more than happy to give you one with a wing over you too

she'll ask if theres anything she can do to help you feel safe and tries not to overwhelm you with anything

Rarity when the reader has a panic attack

she's very quick to try and console you

she'll see you start to panic and take you aside to help you get a hang of your breathing if youre anywhere near a crowd, loud space or other ponies in general she'll take you aside to the closest spot thats quieter or offer to go on a walk with you so that you arent overwhelmed and find it easier to calm down and focus on breathing

she'll offer words of affirmation and something textured you like if you need it

rarity will gladly set things aside to help you relax possibly even close the boutique early and either take you on a spa day or style your mane while giving you some affirmation and reassurance

she'll attempt at quelling your irrational thoughts and/or doubts by reasoning with them and attempting a bit of humor pinkie may have rubbed off on her a bit, she picked up more of the "cheer up through a laugh" approach because of pinkie

you will get a lot of her big sister side she more than likely helped sweetiebelle out with her own panics especially before the cutie mark crusaters so she would probably default to her gentle older sister tone ever now and then while consoling you

Pinkie Pie when the reader has a panic attack

at first will just tell you "hey its okay" and possibly say something on accident that might make your panic worse depending what you panic over she's not the best at reading people or 'reading the room' when it comes to things outside her usual domain of expertise

if it persists (and it likely will), she'll be unsure what to do and feel bad until she gets an idea

might give you either a paper bag or more probable a balloon to help you focus your breathing somewhere you might end up just making balloons with her if this trick really helps you

pinkie will try and distract you from the scary thoughts anyway she can she'll find a way to make you laugh, make faces or tell jokes she'll ask you about your interests she'll offer to tell you about her day, about gummy or share a silly story or even ask you about your day to recount how it went before the panic attack

she'll offer to let you hold gummy if he's close by and if you think that might help

if you have any comfort food or like sweets and eating might help in any way you better expect pinkie to be getting you some snacks

Rainbow Dash when the reader has a panic attack

rainbow will bring you a cloud, or multiple if youre a pegasus, she'll either get you to fly around, through or up to clouds with her or bring the fluffiest one she ca find over to you if you cant or dont want to fly if youre a unicorn and youre able to, you could use twilight's spell for walking on clouds and get to play with a cloud she brings over if not she can just bring you enough clouds to give you a cool mist

she might try creating a small cool breaze for you with her wings she's not sure if it'll help or anything but she'll try

she'll try distracting you by showing off some tricks maybe even attempt another sonic rainboom just for you

early seasons dash would have brushed it off, told you everythings fine, that youre overthinking and need to just "be cool" but later seasons dash does less of that and would be a little more compassionate she'll try hard to come up with things that might help but she'll still argue that some of your thoughts are just you overthinking

pretty quick to be realistic about a situation if youre panicked over a test or an event she'll tell you you'll do fine and you'll breaze past it, even tell you the jist of what you'll expect so youre prepared on top of being realistic she can be really reassuring if she tries

she knows what its like to panic over a crowd or competition she can have some pretty good tips that she's learned instead of stalling and avoiding like using your imagination to make things less scary and intimidating

Apple Jack when the reader has a panic attack

aj is the most likely to offer to just talk things through, aside from fluttershy she'll help you face what's causing you to panic and listen to you get it off your chest she knows talking about your thoughts out loud can help you see how irrational they might be and make it easier to disprove them

aj will give you reassurance and reasoning but also any advice you might need now or for future panic attacks

she'll get you to count something like "how many apples is a bushel?....and how many can fit in a pie?" while youre taking some deep breaths

if taking a walk or stretching your legs helps she'll offer to walk it out with you, maybe while you talk or she'll offer to go for a run around the orchard with you to help get the panic energy out

will get you a cold glass of apple juice if you'd like

might even give you her hat untill you feel better

Fluttershy when the reader has a panic attack

she will ask any animals of your preference if theyre okay with you petting them especially if petting something soft helps you relax

if you'd like she can ask birds to sing a song and you two can just sit quietly and listen

fluttershy will gladly offer hugs and forehead bonks

she's an amazing listener and her soft and quiet approach can be really comforting

she knows what its like to be overwhelmed and often has panic attacks herself especially related to social anxiety she she'll offer to try any of the tricks and things that normally help her

she will try to offer reassurance and reasoning after listening to you however shes much better at offering reassurance than reasoning

if counting helps she'll get you to count critters with her taking deep breaths and counting all the critters around the area or her place or even just count breaths alongside you

she knows the best quiet spots to relax and get way from stressors around ponyville she'll take you to the closest one if youre okay with walking she'll even tell you all about the animals and plants around that spot

if you need a distraction she's got tonnes of animal facts to share

theres a small chance to get early seasons fluttershy to sing or just humm if that might help later seasons fluttershy is more confident and will even sing alongside birds if you ask for music

this turned out to be a pretty long post!

i hope these headcanons are alright!

reminder to check out my pinned post for my byf/dni and wills/wonts before sending a request!

[the-s1lly-corner]

The TADC cast with a reader who’s a fluffy droopy eared bunny like the picture above.

Those eyes have absolutely no thoughts behind them just vibes (that may or may not include various types of cake)

Readers just a little fella,an absolute pal.they give soft plush hugs but the catch is that their like 7’5 tall.their super kind and patient and somehow always know what to say or do to help the cast.

(Also…JAX FIDGET HC!! He totally flops their ears about)

TADC cast x big soft silly plushie bunny!reader!!!!!

uueueueue the macarons i made earlier ended up so good!! easily some of the nicest and prettiest ones i made recently; not like bakery level pretty but none of them collapsed or cracked! main issue is that some of them kind of have a tip or bump on the top from the piping!! otherwise theyre solid!! gonna answer some stuff then i might go draw then hit the sack

CAINE:

i like to think that he took one of your ears in each of his hands and lifted them up, messing with them a bit before letting them flop down to your sides. has probably tried to blow you away with spectacles and grand gestures only for you to blink dully at him... oh... was he saying something..? you werent really paying attention... always reties your bow/bowtie when it comes undone, he cant have you not being ... not presentable..! very much endeared by your sweet demeanor and very loudly asks for hugs every now and then

POMNI:

has probably waved her hand in front of your face to see if you were awake and/or alive, genuinely thought that you were a real normal plushie the first time she saw you. got jumpscared when you slowly moved your head to look at her. oh dear! please reassure her that everything is fine!

since shes new you have taken to hovering around her during IHAs to make sure shes safe.. you have probably picked her up to your chest and made a run for it. like literally just pomni held flat to you and you just running with her. silly, i think

RAGATHA:

one of my favorite ragatha headcannons that lowkey becoming a given and my go to; she makes you accessories to go on your ears! bows and ribbons and the like! she thinks you look so so cute; vaguely reminds her of a bunny doll she used to have in her childhood, at least thats her guess judging by the warped and murky memories of her old life in the real world. has accidentally left you behind because you were spacing out and thinking about whatever it is that goes on in your head... thinks youre as sweet as can be, probably calls you "carrot cake" or something along the lines

"sweetie bell"

sits

JAX:

messes with your long droopy ears. not uncommon for him to just grab one and run his thumb over you false fur and fabric. he thinks youre too soft; literally and metaphorically. you make a great cuddle buddy and give great hugs, but youre just too nice for your own good. and on the off chance that youre actually paying attention when hes setting up a prank for someone, you put a stop to it. pulling pranks is mean, especially jax's style of pranks! you cant have that!

jax definitely pouts off to the side when you sabotage him.. youd think the two bunny folk would get along with one another!

well its not like you guys dont get along, youre too nice for that and sometimes i feel like jax's conscious would step in at least once and he would try to be nicer to you, at least for a day

KINGER:

sometimes he likes snuggling into you within the pillow fort, your body is just so soft and warm and comforting, youre literally just a giant teddy bear- er... bunny! stuffed bunny! honestly he probably hangs around you more than he would hang around a normal reader simply because youre just so sweet and soft, as well as inviting. you both tend to space out together.. do you think he accidentally put you in the walls of his pillow fort, before he realized you were a whole person ? like do i think kinger is that dense? no, but i do think that the thought it really really funny and silly and i can definitely see it as a gag

ZOOBLE:

tries to pretend that theyre not into how soft and comfy you are.... but they find themselves subtly leaning into you when youre nearby. i would say that they would be blunt with wanting to be held or wanting a hug like they are with everything else.. but i think when it comes to affection, zooble can be a little... eh... like theyre bad at saying what they want when they want it, at least verbally.. your softness makes up for the fact that they feel like those hard plastic kids toys

sometimes get a little annoyed by your... empty eyed look... because sometimes its really hard to tell when youre paying attention or not

GANGLE:

love love loves snuggling into you after a rough day, bonus if youre fixing up her comedy mask while she presses her other masked-face into your fluff and venting about her day. oh that jax is so so mean! please rub her back... her.. ribbons, actually. honestly hugs from you are s tier and the very best because as said several times before, youre really soft and comfortable. you guys tend to lock yourselves up in gangles room and hang out when a IHA isnt going on; and thats just fine with the both of you because you have one anothers company

[pretty-red-garnet]

Nightmare

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Prison • Fluff

Little fluffy drabble while I finish a couple other fics I’m working on.

     You woke with a start. Sweaty palms gripping at the metal base of your bunk at a desperate try to ground yourself. Your breaths are short, panicked and teary eyes flying around the room, from the plain grey walls to your side table of trinkets. Trinkets from Daryl, mostly. Little things he knew you'd like. You stare at them an extra second, a try to distract your mind from it's current thoughts.

Your throat is dry and it burns. You make a grab for the canteen of water on your table, but in your haste, you knock it over and it clatters loudly to the floor. You close your eyes for a second, praying that no one would wake. It was pretty tight in the cell block, and the metal canteen echoed obnoxiously when it hit the ground.

Your heart drops when you see the shadow of a person coming towards your cell. Quiet footsteps make their way to your doorway and knuckles lightly rap at one of the bars before Daryl peeks his head in. His hair is brushed aside in a messy manner, like he'd just woken and shoved it back quickly.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You ask, cringing at the horse sound of your voice. Daryl noticed too, seeing from the pinch in his brow.

"S'alright." He slowly makes his way into your cell. "You alright?" He bends to grab your fallen canteen, handing it to you. "Heard you tossin' and turnin' before."

"Yeah, I'm ok," you answer, giving his a small smile. "Thanks."

"Nightmare again?" He asks after analyzing your face for a moment. He drops to sit on your bed with a little groan, the metal bed frame creaking. You nod, pulling your legs to your chest.

It most certainly wasn't your first bad dream since the end of the world. Thoughts of death, turning into a walker, you friends— family, turning to walkers, you helplessly watching unable to do anything. Daryl dying right in front of you. Your heart races just at the thought of the most recent dream. Of his pale and bloody face, staring back at you with lifeless eyes.

     They've always been bad, ever since the start, but they've been worse lately. The governor was still out there somewhere, probably as a walker but it didn't ease your worries much. The Woodbury citizens had taken up space behind the prison's tall fences. More mouths to feed. More people to protect. You know the dreams you're having are out of stress, a looming feeling from deep in your chest that seemed to never ease.

Well, except when Daryl was around.

     "Wanna talk 'bout it?" He asks, sitting back further to rest his back against the cool cement of the wall.

     "Just the usual," you answer, shrugging. Daryl nods, biting at the inside of his cheek.

     "Alright then," Daryl says, standing. "Scooch." He pulls the blankets off you, motioning with his hand for you to move over. You smile and comply, although you're somewhat nervous.

     This wasn't the first time you and Daryl had been in close quarters, especially after one of your nightmares, but never in a bed. It had started back on the road after the farm. Typically, it was just a warm hand on your back when he'd noticed your shivering. Most of the time pushing his sleeping bag closer to yours to press his back against yours. Just a little contact to show you he was there. But not cuddling in a bed.

Despite your nerves, you do as he says anyway, pushing against the wall so he has a little sliver of the cot. You try to give him as much room as possible, but he pulls you closer. A hand rests on your hip while your head is placed on his chest. Despite Daryl's cool exterior, his heart is beating a thousand beats a second.

"Am I making you nervous?" You ask, a little nervous giggle punctuating your sentence.

"Nah," he answers, but his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm against your hip tells a different story. "Good to sleep now?"

     You smile and nod into his chest, cuddling even further into him. After another few quiet moments, Daryl's heart rate calms and his fingers are just a presence holding you tight, no longer tapping.

     This is different. All of this is. It's intimate and close, closer than you'd been with anybody in a very long time. His hold on you is tight, but not possessive. Protective. The feeling in your chest is different too, a warmth that spreads all the way to your toes and places a smile on your face.

     When Daryl's breathing evens and slows, you risk a glance to his face. He looks so peaceful and calm, the opposite of how you were feeling just minutes ago. You brush his fringe away from his face and smile softly at how his nose twitches.

    The new world is scary, the new feeling blooming in your chest is scary, but as long as you have Daryl with you, you can get through anything.

[moodymisty]

Hey Misty, hope you're having a good week :) Could I request something fluffy(or as fluffy as this stinky man can feasibly be) with Konrad's lover bathing with him? We will unstink the stinker :3

Author’s note: Kind of went a soft but, teeny bit angsty vibe. Hope you enjoy.

Relationships: Konrad Curze/GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mentions of blood and violence

The last time you remember Konrad having a formal bath, was when Fulgrim had forced him to. You were both visiting the Phonecian’s flagship and the primarch had recoiled at Konrad’s smell and overall look; Hair slicked with grease and grime.

Filth and decay was always Fulgrims bête noire, as you've learned. The Pride of The Emperor was always immaculate, as was he and his legion.

He had then turned to you, and asked how you were able to deal with such a stench. You had replied that in all honesty, you had stopped smelling it quite awhile ago. The Nightfall was entrenched in the scent of rotting flesh, the coppery smell of blood; It wasn't a thing unfamiliar to you. You didn't have the ability to complain about it, or leave.

Fulgrim had been more than a bit blunt at first, but had softened overtime on his offended tone. He knows even better than you Konrad’s relationship with himself is, fractured at best. It oftentimes seems as if he merely treats his body as a tool, a side effect of his corporal sentence.

You decided to try and help him form a habit, and make the action something to look forward to. Fulgrim loved this idea and gave you no shortage of things that smelled wonderful, though they were a bit out of Konrad’s comfort zone. At least you enjoyed them, the few times you've managed the time to use them.

The comb skips through Konrad's hair smoothly now, slick from the water. Your bare skin presses against his own, but in a way that doesn't feel erotic.

Konrad has a low drive for that sort of thing, you’ve learned. His time on Nostromo probably had something to do with it. When those feelings strike him it is often random and intense- you've learned violence often triggers it, like there's a part of his brain when the two intense emotions overlap and entangle with each other like a spiders web. More often than you'd like to admit he's taken you in the pitch dark and when you've touched back, you can feel the stickiness of what can only be blood.

You haven't said anything at all during this; There isn't much you could say that wouldn't potentially ruin the situation that you've so carefully crafted. Konrad is at his most figuratively vulnerable, even if he doesn't want to admit it. Rarely does he let that maniacal, bloodthirsty side of him step aside for this other half.

Completely drained in the face, eyes staring off into space. He's either thinking, or a vision is just about to take hold of him. Though his head turns down to you, and confirms it wasn't the ladder.

"Water was always worth killing for, on Nostromo." Konrad looks at the massive bath, his Nostroman accent twisting and sluring the sentence and it's multiple w sounds. "And now there seems to be ample surplus."

You don't know if he's getting to something, or merely commenting; You choose to stay silent as you ring out his hair, the water droplets sliding down his pale skin and the sinewy muscles of his neck and shoulders.

Standing up high to reach the top of his head you begin to braid the top half of his hair back, slicking it away his face. He looks far less greasy and unkempt with it out of his eyes. It’s not too much for him either- he accepts the mild change when you tie the end and pull away from him.

"Lord Fulgrim offered us dinner on his flagship, are we going?"

Looking at you with his now slicked back hair, you see in Konrad where Sevatar and Skraivok- you think of the ladder's name with no small amount of unrest- get their looks from.

"Do you want to go?"

Anytime Konrad asks you a question, it feels like a test. You don't know if it's a self protecting act by you to keep yourself safe around the Night Lords, or if he is actually looking for something in you each time.

"I," You think for a moment- how to word this. "I would like to go and at least say hello, and show how well you cleaned up."

Konrad hums, his tongue catching on the first two letters in then, slurring in into a soft z sound. The ends of his hair just barely brush against the highest parts of his shoulders, curling upward as they dry fluffier and far cleaner.

"Then go get dressed."