#this might be my final fucking straw but we stay silly

[neon-angels-system]

fuck it tumblr is the best place to vague about this actually

[purplehairedwonder]

Chapter 1041: Spoilers, sweetie

First things first: I am here for Pudding punching Sanji’s brothers. Atta girl.

I’m not typically one to theorize on the lore of the series, mostly because it’s still so vague that I’m satisfied with letting that part of the story play out, but I have to wonder if we’re getting some hints that Momo is Joyboy. He can talk to Zunesha and then we get this panel:

That would be an interesting twist.

Also, it seems that Oden was anti-spoilers, tearing out the most important pages of his journal.

I see on Reddit people thinking that the fact that these pages are gone from the journal are a point in favor of Yamato joining the Straw Hats since she wouldn’t be bringing those spoilers to the crew (and we know how Luffy feels about spoilers). However, Yamato’s reaction to Momo’s worry made me think the opposite:

This expression Yamato makes me think that, along with having the Devil Fruit of the guardian deity of Wano, she might stay in Wano to help Momo rebuild and open the country.

Then we get Raizo being officially declared the victor in the ninja battle of the century. But what preparations is he talking about? 

And could this be where Denjiro has been all this time? I assumed he was with Hiyori, but if that were the case, I would have expected to see him in this chapter.

My favorite part of the chapter is, of course, Hiyori, making her move on Orochi. Fuck him up, queen!

It’s fitting that Hiyori wears her mask here because she spent twenty years wearing a mask as she hid behind the identity of Komurasaki, who, when we first met her, was portrayed as an aloof, greedy, and treacherous woman. But the one she was truly manipulating was Orochi. And she’s been biding her time for this moment.

Her finally revealing her identity is so satisfying.

@ninhaoma-ya​​ has a great analysis of the lighting in this panel, noting the contrast of light on Hiyori and dark on Orochi. So good.

Then we’ve got Izo taking down one of the CP0 agents. 

Whether this is Izo’s end or not remains to be seen, but his sacrifice fits one of the themes of this arc, which is the new generation taking the place of the old. The Whitebeard Pirates are remnants, their captain two years dead. They’re here to help the next generation rise.

And we have the shift of orders from capturing Robin to taking out Luffy. Does this mean Luffy’s fruit is the one the Elders were talking about previously? Honestly, I hope not. 

I like Luffy having a silly fruit and being endlessly creative with a seemingly crappy power. The less “Chosen One” narrative the better in my view.

Also, Drake is back up. Is he going to take out the other CP0 agent? That would be good; we’ve seen Luffy, Law, and Kid all get knocked down and get back up. Now it may be Drake’s turn. This also seems likely to fit into Hawkins’ 1% prediction.

Meanwhile, Big Mom’s defeat is being felt around the island. I raised an eyebrow at Nami only mentioning Law while Luffy only mentioned Kid.

Speaking of those two, Law is no longer upright. He admits he’s got nothing left. I really like Kid in this moment, though. He went from a doomed alliance and resulting cynicism to

“Should we brace ourselves?”

We saw some growth from him when he willingly went after Big Mom to keep the two Emperors separated despite having a vendetta against Kaido, and we see another one here; despite the bickering between the two captains during the fight, he’s not talking about himself only.

Law continues to show his unwavering faith in his alliance -- he did his part, now it’s up to his partner to do his -- and I think seeing the strength of that alliance has been important to Kid.

Speaking of alliances, Kaido is depressed that his seems to have crumbled.

And we get a brief flashback to Kaido meeting Big Mom for the first time. It seems he was quite young at the time.

This seems like a prelude to a longer Kaido/Rocks Pirates flashback. I’m pretty meh at the prospect at the moment. Kaido has been the weakest part of Wano for me (especially after two arcs with such good villains in Doffy and Big Mom), but maybe learning more about him will help. Doffy and Big Mom were good villains even before their flashbacks, though, and Kaido is just... not even remotely interesting to me.

Lastly, I was glad to see Luffy returning to his righteous anger. His enjoyment of the fight was rubbing me the wrong way considering how Kaido has hurt people he cares for -- something he finds unforgiveable. 

So the question remains whether Luffy and Kaido get the chance to finish their fight or if the World Government interrupts it. Most of the other plotlines are being tied up, and this is the biggest one left.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

[anxiousstark]

The four times the Pogues tried to pair you up with JJ + the time they realized you were already dating | JJ MAYBANK

Request:  Hi! I love the whole 5+1 trope so I wanted to request one with “Five times the Pogues tried to pair the y/n with JJ and the one time they realized the pair was already dating.”❤️❤️

I LOVED this idea. I changed it to 4+1. 

Warnings: FLUFF. Swearing (always), mentions of sex. The end might be not as good as the rest, wrote it when I was feeling a little down but I promised to upload today. Enjoy it.

Word Count: 2030

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

If you guys see my works in other websites, let me know, please. I only have Tumblr.

BIG MASTERLIST 

"Please," You begged, hands squeezing the muscular arm of the boy that was sitting next to you. "Just a little sip, JJ." You pouted. The envy spread through your body as you glimpsed at his pink milkshake, deliciously going up the straw until it reached his lips. You swallowed, mouth-watering. "Please, I'm going to die, JJ."

The blond boy rolled his eyes, reminding you that you didn't want to order anything. He continued happily sipping his milkshake, eyes fluttering close. Those milkshakes should be a sin. They tasted so good, and their coldness could fight against the heat of the summer of the Outer Banks. "Stop looking at me." He groaned. "I'm trying to have a moment with my baby." Of course, he was talking about his so-loved milkshake. His words made the other pogues chuckle while they continued to eat their food.

"JJ," You whimpered. His head snapped towards you, giving you attention for the first time since the waitress delivered the milkshake. "Just a tiny sip."

Nobody could ignore your puppy eyes. Therefore, JJ groaned, moving his glass so you could get a sip. You decided to take your time, admiring the metal straw, which was a project that Kiara decided to start in the Outer Banks. JJ nudged you, impatient to put his lips back on the straw. Finally, you savoured the milkshake, understanding JJ's heart eyes towards it. However, you couldn't stop taking sips, which made him groan while trying to take the straw from between your lips, putting his mouth closer to the metal straw AND your mouth.

The others watched the both of you with silly smiles on their faces. Sarah coughed. "So Y/N," You stopped playfully fighting with the boy sitting next to you to peer at your friend. "Have you thought about what I told you?" A couple of days ago, she started talking about the most handsome boys in OBX, and you weren't interested. Most of them were proud Kooks who would look at you as an inferior individual for not having as much money as them. "I mean," She fakely laughed. "If by the age of 25 you both are single you should date." She was straightforward, making JJ glance at her. She was hoping that both of you would end up being a couple because she had never seen two people having such a strong connection.

What Sarah Cameron and the others didn't know it's that under the table, JJ's right hand rested firmly on your thigh. Fingers caressing the inside, making you shiver.

The day had been awful. You liked your job because it provided you with much necessary money. But you didn't like how some costumers treated you.

Working at The Wreck was amazing, Kiara was there to help you with anything, and you loved her dad. However, when Kooks decided to come inside and order something, there would be nasty comments thrown at you.

Teenager boys labelled your body and beauty as if you were an object, which made you uncomfortable, and as much as you tried to keep calm, you couldn't promise not killing someone. Teenager girls judged your clothes, friends and of course, money. It was awful.

However, today was even more dreadful. Rafe Cameron and his friends had decided to step on The Wreck, which was unusual and meant they were seeking for trouble. As soon as your work clothes ended up being stained by someone's food, you knew the day would be worst as hours went by.

The Cameron boy concluded that it would be a great show if he stretched his leg, making you trip, falling face down on the tray full of food that you were carrying to table number 5. You wanted to cry.

In the other part of the Outer Banks, John B removed dirty clothes from his floor. "I'm so glad you are finally cleaning your room." Sarah leaned on the door, admiring her boyfriend. "It's a fucking mess in here."

"I'm not cleaning," He groaned. "I can't find the keys to the van." He found some dirty underwear, throwing it to the corner of the room.

"JJ took them," She jumped over the filthy clothes laying on the floor. "Don't you remember? Today it's Wednesday. Y/N works until late."

"Oh, true." Every Wednesday and Friday you stayed at work until late. Since you started, the blond boy had decided that he would drive you back home every night, not wanting you to walk on your own. Everyone was surprised by JJ's commitment to driving you every night you worked late. "We need to get them together. They are perfect. They care for each other so much."

"They truly look amazing together. Couple goals." She grinned when John B replied that they were also couple goals.

What John B and the other didn't know it's that as soon as you were inside the car, JJ hugged you tightly, your head resting on his chest while his lips hovered over your forehead. He offered words of comfort, fists clenched thinking of what Rafe had done.

Pope Heyward was sitting on his surfboard, enjoying the smooth flow of the waves, rocking him gently. He examined two of his friends while they were playfully fighting with the water.

You had decided to push JJ out of his board. As soon as he came from under the water, he told John B to take care of his surfboard as he had to drown you for doing that to him. You shrieked, trying to hide behind the girls, but the water slowed you down, and the blond boy was more agile. Everyone paid close attention, goofy smiles decorating their faces as they saw both of you trying to immerse each other.

"Oh my gosh," You turned around, glancing up at JJ. He had the biggest smirk on his face. Your hands were covering your chest, trying to process what he had just done. "Did you just take my top off?" He continued smirking, his right hand coming out of the water, showing the top part of your bikini. "JJ, I'm going to kill you!" You tried to grab the piece of clothing from his hand, your other hand covering your chest. However, he was taller than you, making it impossible.

Pope started making a gesture, telling the others to get out of the water so JJ and you could be on your own. John B was the one who tried to convince you to kick JJ out of his board, knowing that he would try to get revenge, which meant getting real close to you. It was their plan all along. And the next step to their plan was to leave you two alone inside the sea, hoping you guys would end up talking about your relationship.

What Pope Heyward and the others didn't know it's that that wasn't the first time JJ's fingers caressed your back until they arrived at their destination. Not the first time his hands explored every curve of your body. Furthermore, not the first time his fingers easily unclasped your bikini or bra.

Kiara thought that it was the perfect night for something to happen between both of you. You all were friends and cared about each other, but JJ was quite protective when it came to you.

The weight of the heavy rain provoked a powerful noise inside the Chateau, and the thunders seemed to get louder and louder. It was movie night, something you guys did every Saturday. Normally, you would cuddle with the girls while watching the chosen film, but not tonight.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were surprised to see that Kiara was cuddling Pope tightly. Next to them, Sarah rested on John B's chest. Your gaze examined both couples, confused. You always cuddled with the girls, especially in nights like these. You were terrified of loud noises, which affected your anxiety negatively.

The strident sound of thunder made you jump, not thinking twice before running towards JJ, who had an entire couch for himself. "What?" He asked when he saw you looking down at him with big eyes. Then, he noticed the position his friends were in and the fact that there was a huge thunderstorm outside. However, JJ didn't move, placing one of his arms under his head, inviting you to lay down on top of him. That wasn't something new neither, JJ and you cuddled all the time, which was another reason for why the pogues wanted to set you up.

To be honest, none of them paid attention to the film playing in the background. You were soundly asleep on JJ's chest, his right arm under his head while his left arm was secured around your waist. Fingers discretely caressing the patch of skin that was revealed.

What Kiara Carrera and the others didn't know it's that you were each other's safe place. There were night visits at each other houses, silently and lovingly holding each other at night, sometimes not so quietly.

You guys had planned to go to a formal party. At first, the boys didn't want to go, not being comfortable spending time around some stuck up Kooks. But Sarah and Kie had begged the boys, letting them know that their parents were making them go, and they didn't want to go on their own.

The surprise came when everyone was ready to go to the party, fancy dresses and suits. However, there was no sight of JJ. They found him on a hammock he had decided to set, being supported by two big trees. "JJ, dude," John B was the first one to talk, getting closer to his friend. Sarah couldn't hear the conversation as she had to move far from them, her phone ringing. "How aren't you ready for the party yet?"

"I'm not going." His eyes were closed, blond hair being moved by the gentle breeze of the night. "I don't like those Kooks." He gazed at Kie, reassuring her that he wasn't talking about her or Sarah. "I'm going to stay here. Have fun."

"But what about Y/N?" Pope asked, peering at the clock on his wrist. "Are you going to leave her at the party on her own?"

"No," Sarah interrupted, getting back to her friends. "It was Y/N," She showed her phone, being clutched with her fingers as her dress didn't have pockets, ugh. "She spent all morning puking. She isn't coming."

"Then no problem." JJ sighed happily, excited to enjoy a serene night under the moonlight while the breeze caressed his hair and body, stimulating goosebumps on his skin.

"Okay then," Kiara grabbed Pope's hand, interlocking her fingers with his. "There are burgers in the fridge. Let's go, we are going to be late."

Around one in the morning, they arrived at The Chateau, tiring faces and numb feet. The girls and Pope decided to spend the night there, not wanting to walk to their houses or moving at all.

JJ's bedroom was empty, which worried them as it was quite cold outside. "He probably fell asleep on the hammock. We should tell him to come inside." John B offered to go. Moreover, a couple of seconds have gone by when he came back, a big smile on his face. "They are keeping each other warm."

Everyone was confused, running outside to see what was going on, even though John B begged them to be quiet and give them privacy. They looked completely stupid hiding behind some trees, seeing you on top of JJ. Your hands were grabbing his face, kissing him passionately. Maybank's hands were on your waist, going dangerously down, wanting to feel you closer to him.

"You guys going to watch until then end?" They were shocked and embarrassed after being caught by JJ. "We can put a show for you." You giggled, letting your head fall on top of his chest. "Not the first time we do this," He winked. "We have experience."

"What the heck?!" Kiara stepped forward, grabbing her dress so she wouldn't stop on it. "How long has this been going for?"

"Around a year and a half."

"What?!"

[smoochkooks]

—lost stars, part 2 (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst, bits of fluff, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers

⟶ word count: 20k

⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, soft dom!jk but also bit possessive!jk, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, jk calling oc his pretty girl, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos!), creampie, implicit car sex, mentions of infidelity, smoking, both oc and jk are emotional mess sometimes.

✔ read part one here!

a/n: i’m sorry i keep you waiting for so long but it’s finally here. as i promised, by the end of october. this story has a really special place in my heart, i’ve had it in my drafts for over a year now. i hope you’ll enjoy it!

Twenty-two. No, twenty-three. Or maybe it was actually twenty-two? Jungkook starts counting again.  

Various, different certificates are aligned on the wall in front of him, every single one dedicated to the same man, sitting across the table with crossed arms and stern expression. It’s rather obvious his ego reaches far beyond the printed sheets of paper with his name written in swirly fonts. They are here just to make an impression, to fool people into believing that the pastel blue shirt he’s wearing and expensive watch on his wrist are the outcome of his hard work.  

He opens his mouth to say something, but it doesn’t reach Jungkook’s ears. He starts counting again; this time the number of letters on the first certificate.

“What do you suggest we should do then?”

The man whose achievements in marketing and public relations Jungkook currently attentively analyzes, is Lee Ilsug, or at least that’s what those diplomas indicate. To be honest, Jungkook couldn’t care less about his name or the list of accomplishments that made him be employed here.

He’s new in the company, that’s certain. Jungkook didn’t have to deal with him before but Yoongi had the unpleasantness though, when he needed to deny the rumours going all around the Twitter about his slightly too close friendship with a female singer he had collaborated with.  

Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass. 

“The photo is blurry. It’s debatable whether it’s Jungkook-ssi or not.” Another voice, this time female, cuts in. Jungkook remembers her face fleetingly from some PR meeting he had attended before. It looks like she’s now Ilsung’s assistant. “I checked SNS. Fans are on Jungkook’s side, they don’t believe what that girl had written, which is a good situation for us to interfere and release a statement.”

“What do you think, Jungkook?”

It’s Sejin. He was the one who contacted Jungkook about the ruckus in the company that has been going on since morning. The case is simple: on the day he did his walk of shame out of your apartment, he stopped to light up a cigarette that happened to be another one of his cardinal mistakes he’s made in span of 24 hours. What started with getting the temptation and alcohol got better of him and sleeping with you, ended with someone taking a picture of him while smoking.

It’s truly a miracle the photo’s quality is moderately vague. His mom always tells him he was born under the lucky star but for Jungkook it’s more like fate was playing hide and seek with him. This time, he managed to blend into the shadows in time.

Ilsung clicks his tongue. It’s not a secret he hates his job yet cherishes the money he earns. He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and leans over the table. He’s close enough for Jungkook to notice the fresh cut from shaving on his cheek and a small, golden cross hanging on his neck. 

He raises his brow, eyes trained on Jungkook. Cold, emotionless. Clearly, his ambitions don’t end on dealing with some idol’s reckless shenanigans. “Well? What’s on your mind, Jungkook-ssi? We are ready to release the statement denying rumours about the incident in an hour.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “But that will be a lie then. I did smoke, it’s me on that picture.”

Next to him, he hears Sejin clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Jungkook, I know it’s unfair but we can’t let it affect yours or boys’ reputations right now. We are a month before the comeback.” he says and no matter how much he tries to make it sound neutral, pulling the ‘what about the rest of the members?’ card is usually the last straw to bend Jungkook.

Jungkook releases a long sigh at that. He feels unworthy. He let down his brothers again, made them worry about him countless times before and that��s what he offeres in return: disappointment. He cannot risk his bandmates’ good name because of his incautious behavior. They sacrificed too much to be where they are now to lose it over a silly scandal.  

“Do what’s best for the team.” he decides after a while.

Once he’s out of the office, his thoughts drift instinctively to you. Do you already know about the mess he created? Do you even search through social media, looking for the updates about him? No, you wouldn’t go there, he tells himself. He’s almost sure. He hopes those revelations won’t ever reach you.

Sejin breaks his chain of thoughts, stepping into the elevator after him. “What were you even doing in that part of the city so early?” he asks, staring at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.

“Does it really matter?”

Sejin’s features soften a little. He’s been with them practically since the beginning. Seen their best and worst, always by their side even when the whole world seemed to be against them. Piggybacking Jungkook out of the practice room because he complained about his feet being sore, joking behind the stage about trivial things when no cameras where around. They trusted him. And he’s never stopped believing in them.

“I told you that million times before. You are allowed to lead your life the way you want, Jungkook. I know how you feel, but as a public figure you have to be extremely careful, first and foremost. People don’t forget, nothing ever disappears from the Internet,” he says, or rather repeats the same mantra he’s been telling them since they broke into the mainstream and started being overly recognizable. “I am here to protect you but I won’t be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

He places a strong hold on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Jungkook releases a sigh and the door slides open behind them. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Always, Jungkook-ah. I’m feeling like a father of rebel teenager now.” Sejin laughs lightly to clear the heavy atmosphere, making Jungkook snort.  

“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”

Sejin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, ignoring younger’s grumbling protests. The walk into the spacious parking lot of the company and Jungkook suddenly stops in his tracks.  

“Does Bang already know about this?“ he asks matter-of-factly, although he’s sure what the answer will be. The confirmation he needs comes with a nod from Sejin. “Is he pissed?” he adds then.

Sejin raises his brows, looking down at him. “His golden boy let him down, what do you think? He might not be mad but he’s sure as hell disappointed.” He gestures to his car and Jungkook follows him without a word, imagining his boss’ sour expression next time he sees him. In Bang’s self-made ranking he’s sitting at last place right now probably.  

“Want to grab a proper breakfast with me? I’ve been called into the company while I was in bed. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.” Sejin offers, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“Okay.” Jungkook says, hopping in Sejin’s car. “You’re buying?” he asks, mustering a snickering smile even though he’s definitely not in the mood for joking.

Sejin rolls his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you own it to me for saving your ass once again?”

“But I’m your rebel teenager kid, remember?” Jungkook pouts. When he sees Sejin hesitating, he opts for another strategy. The one that never fails. “Rock-paper-scissors?”

“Deal.” 

Tonight, Jungkook pulls up in front of the club you’re working in with his car. It’s Friday night and he recalls you saying you work here every two weeks. He counted the days three times. There’s no way he made a mistake. He’s sober. And he has no intentions of getting drunk.  

You’re surprised when you see him. You haven’t spoken a word for a whole week since he walked out of your apartment. He seems happier when he approaches you, flashing a bunny-toothed smile like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’s good at pretending. That’s exactly what you told him to do - act like the night he stripped you bare and fucked you silly was merely a mirage.

In a way, you’re relieved he makes everything seem ordinary, even though it’s anything but normal.

He waits for you to finish your shift. Tells you he drove here with his car and your eyes involuntarily widen. When you’re standing in front of his black Mercedes Benz, you can’t help but gawk.  

“I don’t even want to know how much money this cost.” You take in the all-polished, black glory of his car, muttering “Holy shit” under your breath.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, gesturing for you to get in. You do it without a word, making yourself comfortable on the leather seat. If he manages not to make things awkward, you can do it to, acting as though he isn’t a well-known persona in your country with an addiction for unhealthy lifestyle.

He starts the engine and drives in the direction of your neighborhood, humming to himself the tune playing in radio. It’s awfully domestic, the way he navigates through the streets like he knows them like the back of his hand although you’re aware he’s glancing at his phone once in a while to check the directions. You catch yourself watching him from the corner of your eye with curiosity, biting your lip to suppress the urge to ask him million questions at a minute. Instead, you let him do whatever he has in mind. You can’t ruin this, you remind yourself.

Later that night, you’re sitting in his car in the darkness, parked on the rundown parking lot where no one’s standing expect for you. The only source of light is coming from the single street lamp nearby, illuminating delicately Jungkook’s features in dim, yellowish lighting.  

He doesn’t say much. He fumbles with the hem of his jacket almost absentmindedly and you know him well enough to sense there’s something plugging his thoughts. You call his name and he turns his head to the side. It’s too dark for you to spot the tiredness on his beautiful face, too dark to read from his eyes and find all the needed answers in them.

“Is everything alright?” you ask and it sounds awfully loud in a small space of his car. Despite the silent promise you made to yourself about keeping things between you civil, you can’t help but interfere.

Jungkook then whirls on his seat so he can face you fully, flashing you a smile meant to throw all your former worries away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to sit with you for a while like that, if you don’t mind.”  

If anything, it doesn’t cure your concerns but you shove it to the back of your head for now. Nodding at his words, you fall into the distressing silence. The street lamp nearby goes out and if it wasn’t for the digital dashboard in Jungkook’s car, you would have been surrounded by darkness completely.  

Jungkook chuckles under his breath and you follow suit. The sudden change in the atmosphere should be taken as a sign to abandon this damned parking lot and go somewhere else, but he looks like he has other plans in mind. Hearing the soft whisper of your name, you start feeling like it all was meant to happen. Him appearing in front of the club, the lights going out and enabling you to read the true emotions from your faces – it’s all like fate is again playing tricks with you.  

You don’t know who moves first, crossing the invisible oceans between you and reaching homeland, but the next thing you feel is his lips on yours.

He tastes like the non-alcoholic beverage he drunk earlier, mixed with faint bitterness of his beloved cigarettes and something akin to mint, yet you’re drowning in it, in him, in the warmth of his breath on your wet lips.

You feel the world spiraling in front of your eyes, despite your soberity. You’re moving automatically; leaning into his touch and accepting the kiss with raw passion, welcoming his tongue in your mouth willingly. It should be alarming how good it feels to have him like this, in your arms, teeth scrapping your neck until you’re writhing in your seat. Breathless, he takes the hint, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his lap.  

It feels dangerously familiar. You know what’s going to happen next, when he unzips your jacket and places his hands underneath your sweater, relishing in the way you shiver at the coldness of his touch. When he sinks his teeth in your neck and withdraws seconds before leaving a blossoming mark. Yet you make no vow to stop him.  

From this exact moment, it’s just a blur of hushed whispers, broken moans and quick caresses that leave you yearning for more. Jungkook acts like he knows your body inside and out, thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into your heat until you’re keening and begging him for more. And he gives it to you with earnest, coaxing you into an orgasm with one last, final flick of his thumb on your sensitive bud.

Jungkook groans when you palm his bulge through the material of his pants, but he’s too desperate to feel your wetness around him to let you tease him any longer. When you sink down onto him, all of your rational thoughts fly away with the breathy moan you let out in unison with his choked gasp.

It’s fast and ragged, chasing the high that it’s both forbidden yet so craved. And it hurts, when tears well in your eyes, when you’re at the brick of pleasure and you know there’s no way in the world you’re going to experience a desire so raw and overwhelming with anyone, ever again. It hurts when Jungkook picks up the pace and fucks into you with ferocity and anger, because the world is unfair and he’s a slave in the system in which freedom means fucking you dirty in his car when it’s dark out.

And he hates it, hates it so much when you unveil in front of him, whimpering his name hoarsely and tightening around his cock deliciously. He swallows every sound you make with his mouth, clenching his teeth because the pleasure is right there, but he needs an extra push to throw himself over the edge. It’s his name on your lips and the whimper of “Inside, please” that finally makes him snap.

Then, there’s only guilt and laboured breaths. In his self-made list of mistakes, you’re aiming for the top.

Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.

You would never quite enjoy doing it, not due to the constant anxiety of forgetting about buying something even if you make a list of products beforehand, not when you don’t have enough money to buy a little extra than needed (thanks to the dear capitalistic world we live in).  

Right now, you’re standing in the middle of an aisle with cereal, trying to look as much casual as possible so people passing by wouldn’t suspect you to be a wanna-be thief. The cause of your distress sits at the very top shelf and there’s no way in hell you’ll manage to snatch that Reese’s Puffs without knocking everything over.  

Defeated, you raise your hand to take your second option (good, old Corn Flakes), but a familiar voice coming from the right stops you in tracks.

“Need some help?”  

Twirling on your feet, you’re now standing face to face with Kihyun – Minho’s friend from work. Smiling sheepishly, you nod. “I do, actually. Can you pass me these ones, please?”  

You feel stupid asking that but fortunately, Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. You talked to him briefly a few times before thanks to Minho, who took his friendship with him as far as to go on a double date together.  

“So, how are you?” Kihyun asks, placing the cereal box in your cart.

“I’m good, thanks. I assume you’ve been also doing well,” He raises his eyebrows at that and you clarify, “Minho told me you got promoted lately. Congrats, chief Yoo.”

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” There’s a tiny bit of pink covering the apples of his cheeks when he waves his hand dismissively at your comment. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m sure working in a homicide department is a big deal,” you say. “And I heard it requires some extra shooting training as well.” you add, alluding to what Minho has told you the day you read the message on his phone from someone named Soyeon.

To your surprise, Kihyun furrows his brows in a manner that could only mean he’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”  

Hiding your astonishment with a light laugh, you explain, “Don’t you go to the shooting range with Minho after work? He told me so a while ago.”  

Something akin to realization crosses Kihyun’s face. He shakes his head. “Yeah, we went there together once or twice but recently he’s training there our new recruit, Soyeon.”  

His words punch you right in the guts. Minho lied to you. He wouldn’t come up with that shitty excuse if he didn’t have something dirtier to hide, right? Maybe you’re exaggerating, but he certainly hasn’t been truly honest with you for a while now. It must be a reason behind his strange behavior.

“Are you okay?”  

For a moment you’ve forgotten you’re in the middle of the grocery store with your boyfriend’s friend. Shaking yourself off your unpleasant thoughts, you send Kihyun an apologetic smile.  

“I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to go to the pharmacist’s and they’re closing soon so I gotta hurry now.” you lie. He doesn’t look like he entirely bought your story but nevertheless, he bids you goodbye.  

You leave the store with half-empty shopping bag, raging headache and a torn heart.

They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.  

It hovers in the air, heavy and overwhelming, a tension primed to snap at any moment yet it has never happened before. There’s always quiet, no hushed sentences, half-lies or stuttered confessions leaving quivering lips.  

Sometimes you wonder when will you have enough. When will you be able to resist, to say you’re hurting so bad it aches right in your heart, like there are tons of bricks lying on your chest, suppressing your breathing. And maybe this is the night.  

A few unread messages on your phone, next one popping up and the screen lights up. 

[1:23pm] jungkook:

i need you  

It pains, a dull ache and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room.   [1:24pm] jungkook:

please  

He never begs. It doesn’t suit him. There is too much pride and power inside him to crawl in front of you, to fall to his knees and plead. Yet, you falter, shaking fingertips typing a quick response. When brain screams fuck you, you don’t deserve me, a sight of him makes all the rational thoughts go to hell.  

He stands in your door, slender body leaning against the frame. You haven’t seen him for a while, a week or maybe two. His skin is pale, sheer and delicate you worry it might break if you trail your fingers over it. There are bangs under his bloodshot eyes and you know he had trouble sleeping again. It hurts seeing him like this, beautiful and broken but you’ve always loved picking up the damaged pieces.

He smiles, a lopsided smirk you know oh so well, a dark amusement because here you are, pliant under his gaze, vulnerable under his every command.  

“Hello, doll.”  

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you grimace. Nickname he uses only when you’re stripped bare for his liking, bend to his will. It means he’s been drinking. Probably the expensive whiskey you hate the taste of so much when it lingers bitterly on your tongue after each swipe of his mouth against yours. “Will you let me in?” he then asks although he already knows the answer.

It’s cruel of him how he uses your weakness. You hate seeing him like this, hate when he’s thrown apart and you’re the only one who knows how to fix him. That’s why you move away from the door in a silent invitation, biting your lip when you see his slouching posture and unsteady walk.  

It hurts when you help him sit on your bed and he smiles at you lazily, in all his beautiful yet broken glory. You almost don’t recognize him. It’s not your Jungkook. Your Jungkook would never drown his misery in alcohol, he would never sit in your room barely conscious, smelling of cheap bars and cigarettes.  

But you accept your fate the way it is.  

“I need to sober you up a little. I’ll go get you a glass of water, okay?” He hums in response, although you’re worried it might have not reach his ears at all.  

Jungkook looks up when your back, accepting the water and drinking it with eagerness. “You’re too good to me, you know that right?” he slurs a little once he’s done. “I don’t deserve you.” he adds after a moment, cupping your cheek with his unoccupied palm.  

You squeeze your eyes shut because you fear you might break down in front of him if you look him in the eyes. He strokes your skin, murming “I’m so sorry” all over again.  

You stay like that for a few beats of silence, breathing in each other’s presences until you hear Jungkook’s phone buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, you see ‘Jimin-hyung’ written on the screen. “Your friends are worried about you.” you murmur, nudging his side.

“Tell them to go to hell.” You hear him muttering under his breath. Sighing, you decide to exit the room and answer the call.  

“Jungkook? Where the fuck are you?!” Jimin’s angered, thick with Busan dialect voice rings in your ears, making you flinch. “You should’ve at least answer my text once so I would know you’re okay!”  

Mustering the courage, you take a deep breath and say, “Hi, it’s Y/N speaking. Jungkook’s friend.”  

There’s a pause on the other side, until your hear Jimin clearing his throat. “Oh, hi. Is Jungkook maybe with you?” he asks and you smile to yourself involuntarily noticing how his voice has changed once he realised he’s not speaking to his friend.  

“He is. Drunk, but in one piece.” you reply, sparing a glance at aforementioned Jungkook who’s now slumped down on your bed, probably fast asleep.

Jimin sighs with relief. “That’s good then. You know, we got into a little fight today and he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and we are right before the comeback so–”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you interrupt his rushed rambling. “I’ll take care of him.”  

“Thank you, Y/N-ssi. It means a lot.”  

‘’I’ve been taking care of his ass practically since we were kids, so it’s not a big deal for me,” you chuckle lightly, even though you’re definetely not in the mood for jokes. “Well, maybe not in that way but still.”  

“I know. He told me about you.”  

Your eyes widen. “He did?” you ask, failing to hide the surprised tone of your voice.  

“Yeah, he did. When he first told us he met his childhood friend accidentally in the club he got drunk in, we didn’t believe him at first. But then he slowly started opening up more about you and even showed me some picture of you and him when you were kids.” Jimin says. “You know, Jungkook hasn’t been himself for quite a while. He kept pushing us away but ever since he met you, he’s started smiling again. Please, promise me you’ll never hurt him.”  

You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”  

It’s easy to promise such thing. Because you’re for sure going to end up being hurt first.

It’s your alarm that wakes you up the next morning.

The sight of Jungkook is long gone, the only proof he’s been here in your bed last night is an empty glass on your bedside table and a small note written on the napkin.  

Thank you for everything. I really don’t deserve you.  

Jungkook.

Sheets have gone already cold underneath your fingertips where he laid beside you just hours ago. You didn’t get much sleep the night, watching his beautiful, pale features illuminated by the moonlight slipping through your window. He looked so peaceful with his chapped lips slightly parted and in that moment, you couldn’t think of any reason to hate him and what he’s doing to you.

Later, when you’re finally out of uni, you come home and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are reserved for your small dates with Minho. The guilt you’re feeling while getting dressed and fixing your makeup is eating you from the inside. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you almost don’t recognize the shallow of a girl you’re seeing.  

You are not a bad person, you keep reminding yourself, then why did you sleep with him that night? Let him crawl into your bed again and again after?

Minho waits for you outside in his car. He’s taking you to a new Thai restaurant and you manage to hide the frown on your face, because your dear boyfriend forgot you don’t like this type of food.  

“You look pretty tonight, babe,” he says once you’re inside, waiting for your orders. You smile at him briefly. “It’s really been a while since we went out together, hasn’t it?”  

At that, you nod curtly. It’s true, you haven’t seen each other last week at all. Minho ditched your usual Wednesday date in favor of staying at work for something important. It happened second or third time this month. You feel like you don’t have right to be mad at him. If anything, that’s what you deserve for lying to him behind his back.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Your food arrives, you act like you don’t feel nauseous chewing on your pad thai and trying to break out the taste with red wine. Minho babbles about the new Netflix series he’s started watching and you’re pretending to be intrested. Wednesday date at its finest.

Then, when you’re about to pour yourself another glass of wine, Minho stops you with his hand on yours. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,”  You fight an urge to roll your eyes. He wants to discuss serious matters? What a change. “We’ve been together for eight months. My parents keep asking about you.”  

“Oh,” you blurt out. To hide your anxiety, you force out a breathy laugh. “So, what about them?” you ask, however you already know what the answer is going to be.  

“I thought we could visit them soon in Daegu over some weekend when you don’t have work,” he proposes, squeezing your hand as if to calm your nerves. It’s not doing much to put you at ease. “My mom has already started making plans what food she should make. They’re really excited to meet you.”  

You feign a smile. It should be a natural progression for couples to take things at a time, step by step but you can’t help but feel uneasy. Minho wants his parents to meet you, the girl who lets a certain raven-haired boy play with her heart and mess with her head. In a sick game where both parties are out of reach, you’re terribly losing.

“I’d love to meet your parents.” you say finally, almost breathless.  

“You don’t look very excited.” Minho comments with a smirk and you know he’s joking but the lump in your throat only grows.  

You smile meekly. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. What if they won’t like me?”  

“I’m sure they’re gonna love you. You don’t have anything to worry about.” he dismisses your concerns, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a glass. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you. I know it’s a lot for one evening but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks now so since we have this opportunity now, I’m gonna use it.”  

Color drains from your face. What else is there to converse about all of a sudden? Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a sign to continue.

“I’ll go straight to the point. I want you to move in with me,” The bomb explodes and you nearly drop your wine glass to the floor. “I know it might be a lot for your but I really, really want to see you every day in my bed. My apartment is big enough for both of us but once I get the promotion my boss talked to me about last week, we can look for something fancier.”  

You stare at him blankly. First his parents, now this? Minho from the beginning of your relationship was the one who liked to take things slowly. He didn’t kiss you until your third date, he waited unnecessary amount of time to have sex even though you told him over and over again you were more than ready to do it with him.

The sudden rush feels weird. As if sensing your discomfort, Minho clears his throat and asks, “Don’t you want to move in with me?”  

You notice the subtle change in his voice, the way he’s not as enthusiastic as he was a minute ago but you shove it to the back of your head. “I’m surprised,” you respond neutraly. “And of course I don’t mind living with you. I just thought you wanted to take things slow.”  

Minho clicks his tongue. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N,” he chuckles but you don’t mirror the sentiment. “I think it would be more comfortable for you to live with me than your current cubby-hole.”  

He’s already irritated by your reaction and you know it’s better not to poke the bear but those three glasses of wine down your throat give you enough courage to disagree. “Your place is further from my university and work. Not to mention I have a five minutes long walk to the underground now and it would take longer for me to get there in your area.” you point out.

“You can get a driving license then finally.”  

You frown. “What do you mean ‘finally’? You know damn well I can’t afford it now with the job I have and student loan. We talked about it before.”  

Minho is aware that with your current financial situation you’re barely making ends meet and you can’t let yourself have another, bigger expenses. But you’re fine on your own, you don’t mind living where you do because that’s the result of your independence. You showed your parents you are able to study and work without their extra help. You’re proud of yourself for that.

“Now you’re literally making excuses. Just say you don’t want to move in.”  

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to reason. “I’m not ready for such a big step yet. I need more time to think about it.”  

Minho snorts, rolling his eyes. “What else is there to think about? Either you say yes or no!” His raised tone catches attention from the family sitting nearby and they send curious glances in your direction.

“Stop being so loud, please. We are in a restaurant for God’s sake.” you whisper-shout.  

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he snorts, obnoxious and annoyingly snarky.

You stay quiet for a moment, debating whether you should give up entirely and hang a white flag or wait for the atmosphere to clear on its own. But you’re so, so tired. Tired of being lied to. Tired of always having to choose your words carefully and bending to his will.  

“You know, I met Kihyun the other day at grocery store,” Minho doesn’t seem much interested in your inquiry, still deeply frustrated with your tantrum. He simply hums, unfazed. “I congratulated him on his promotion. He for sure needs to visist shooting range more now, doesn’t he?”  

Minho arches his brow. “Yeah, I told you he goes there with me and that new recruit.”  

It’s ironic, how easily he can lie to you straight in the eye. But you’re strong enough now to fight back.  “That’s interesting actually, because Kihyun said something totally different.” you say languidly, watching your boyfriend narrowing his eyes.

“And what is that?”  

“He said you’re going there only with your new recruit, Soyeon. The one sending you messages on your private phone.”  

Minho gapes at you for a few short seconds and then, bursts into laughter. “What are you trying to insinuate here, honey?” he asks.  

The petname sounds mocking this time. Ignoring his lighthearted approach to the situation, you dodge a bullet. “I’m not insinuating anything yet. I just pointed out that you lied to me.”  

“Lied? That’s bullishit. I would never lie to you.”  

“But you did, Minho. The day I asked you who Soyeon was after reading the message on your phone. You said you’re visiting shooting range with her and Kihyun after work sometimes. Turns out it’s just you and her after all. Isn’t that a lie?” you press.  

Minho doesn’t like being backed into the corner. When you confronted him first, he thought he had everything under control. Now, he’s losing it and he isn’t used to being that helpless.

“So what? Maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t freak out and think I’m cheating on you. Because that’s all it is about, right? You think I’m fucking someone behind your back.” he snaps, making you wince.  

“I didn’t say that.” you counter but there’s no use for that. You stepped into the lion’s den.  

He aprubtly stands up from his chair and the cutlery on your table clutters. “You know what? I’m done. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit anymore.” He withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and throws a few bills onto the table.  

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. “Your’e leaving? Just like that?”  

“Yeah. Are you going with me or not?”  

You shrug your shoulders. “I guess someone has to finish this bottle. It would be a shame to waste such expensive wine.” you say, mustering a sarcastic smile.

Minho doesn’t utter anything more to you. He nods and exits the restaurant, leaving you sitting by the table alone. Despite the stares, hushed whispers and an urge to run away and hide from the audience, you stay a little longer and drink up that damned bottle of wine until there’s no droplets left inside.  

Once you’re outside, you inhale greedily the fresh air. Your head spins a little and you’re debating whether to take an Uber home or just walk thirty minutes on your own to sober up a little. You choose the latter.  

You don’t know what makes you dial his number. You’ve never done that before. He was the one calling you in the middle of the name and begging without words to tend his wounds. Tables have turned, and here you are.  

You call once, twice. After the fifth attempt you give up, showing your phone into the pocket of your coat. As the first tear rolls down your cheek, you realise he would never be there to pick up your pieces.

Three missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:11pm] jungkook:

I’m so sorry y/n. I couldn’t pick up the phone cause we had late practice  

Please call me back. I’m worried

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

[11:36pm] jungkook:  

At least text me if you’re okay

Please  

[11:39pm] me:

I’m fine

[11:39pm] jungkook:  

Thank God

You sure you don’t wanna talk?

[11:41pm] me:

Maybe next time

[11:41pm] jungkook:

Okay  

Night, miss grumpy  

You’re sitting in your favourite cafeteria, typing furiously on your laptop the last paragraph in your assignment. Your philosophy proffesor has been a bitch lately, telling you to write essays about the most uninteresting stuff she could possibly think of. And here you are, writing about Hegel’s triads, reminding yourself the semester soon will be over and so will be your mandatory philosophy classes.

Taking a moment to sip on a caramel macchiato you ordered, you notice a message popping up on your lockscreen.  

[10:45am] jungkook:  

Do you have time now?  

I need to tell you sth  

It’s been two days since your date with Minho. You’re still mentally flogging yourself for calling Jungkook that night repulsively because of your tipsiness. In that exact moment, he was the only person on your mind you could talk to. Once the fresh air cooled down your emotions, you realised how stupid your idea was. 

With slight resistance (and raced heartbeat), you type a response. 

[10:46am] me:  

I guess  

[10:46am] jungkook:  

Great. I’m gonna call you now

Eyes widening, you stare at your phone. What is so important that he cannot just text you instead? Not even a minute later, you hear buzzing. Exhaling shakily, you answer it.  

“Hi, Miss Grumpy,” Jungkook says and you could tell by the tone of his voice he’s in a good mood. He sounds like the old Jungkook you know well. It’s a pleasant surprise. “What’s up?”  

“You called me to ask how am I doing?”  

Jungkook chuckles and something inside you flutters hearing that. “And what if I did?”  

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Let’s just say it’s unusual of you. Shouldn’t you be at some dance practice right now?” you ask.

“We just ended a company meeting. And this is exactly the reason why I’m calling you.”  

“Should I be scared?”  

”Not at all. I’m gonna move straight to the point,” he says and your pulse involuntarily quickens. “Are you free next weekend?”  

You bite your lip. There’s a part of you that wants so bad to counter with “What? Do you need a booty call?” but you don’t let your facade break that easily. Instead, you tell the truth. “Yeah, I am.”  

“Would you like to go with me to Busan then?”  

You nearly spill the coffee onto your laptop. “Oh.” You can’t quite hide the surprise in your voice. You would never expect him to propose you such thing, yet here you are.

It’s been a while since you were home. Not like you don’t want to see your parents, it’s actually the opposite. The reason you haven’t been in Busan for months is simple: you don’t have extra cash on the side to afford a two-way train ticket.  

Sensing your bewilderment, Jungkook takes your silence as a sign to explain further his sudden proposition. “Our company gave us few days off to relax before final comeback preparations so I decided I could go home,” It’s what he says and unsure of what to answer with, you only hum in response. “You told me some time ago you haven’t seen your parents since Christmas so I thought you might accompany me.”  

Something squeezes in your chest hearing that. You fail to hide the smile creeping on your features and despite the many obstacles that should be a warning sign for you to say no, you find yourself reminiscing in the idea of spending a weekend at home with Jungkook. Just like old times.  

“Okay. I agree.”  

Upon hearing your response, Jungkook breathes out a sigh of relief to the phone. “I thought you would ditch me.”  

“Excuse me? Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to eat my mum’s bulgogi.”  

You can’t ignore how you’re feeling, cheeks flushed and a silly smile stretching on your lips. But there’s still that bugging thought present at the back of your head, reminding you of your illicit affair and every mistake you’ve made so far. Maybe agreeing to a small trip down childhood memory lane is one of them.  

Right now, sitting in a cafeteria and talking on the phone with Jungkook about the details and your mum’s cooking skills, you pretend like you’ve turned back the time and everything else is a mere drawback to deal with later.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do that.”  

That, is a blatant lie. You know damn well why you’re standing on the pavement in front of the building you live in as Jungkook pulls up with his high-priced, straight-from-the-salon black Mercedes. Something ignites in your lower stomach at the mere memory of what you’ve done there inside last time.

When he exits the car, you disregard as best as you can the aloof feeling in your chest, seeing him adjusting his bucket hat further down. This is the life he’s living, you remind yourself. If he wants to minimize the risk of people with preying eyes recognizing him.

Dressed in all black, he comes up to you and lifts his head up. That’s when you see him fully for the first time since he stumbled through your drunk and barely conscious. He smiles widely approaching you, not an ounce of uncertainty in his movements when he wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.  

“What’s that for?” you mumble.

“Just missed you.”  

He smells like the flowery fabric softener you know he likes. It almost lulls you into paying no mind to the thumping of your heart against your ribcage and redness blossoming on your cheeks.  

It almost makes you forget he’s not yours, and you will never be his.  

You’re the first one to withdraw, stepping away. “You’re such a sap.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind to say after such intimate moment  – twist it into something without depth and meaning you’re so afraid of facing.

He shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just happy we’re going to spend some time together with our families.”  

You know he is. Jungkook has always been a family person. Moving out at a ripe age of fourteen paradoxically strengthened the bond he has with his parents and brother.  

He picks up your bag from the ground and throws it into the trunk next to his. Getting into the car, you mutter, “You know, I tweet ��eat the rich’ every two days but you are safe from my hatred for high class as long as you drive my ass with this expensive car to Busan.”

Jungkook chuckles, starting the engine. “Thanks for your kindness, love. Good to know I’m pardoned.”  

“Jokes aside, I mean it though. I might want Jeff Bezos to rot in hell but at the same time I think you deserve that money because I know you worked hard to achieve it.” you say, buckling your seatbelt.  

He spares you a quick glance and arches his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you are actually a fellow comrade Y/N, Miss Grumpy.”  

“Oh, boy. Follow me on my private account. You’ll see then how radical I can get.”  

You earn another laugh from him and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable in the situation, sitting in his car and venturing onto a weekend trip to your hometown. The perspective of spending a couple of hours with Jungkook in the same car doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did the whole week before.

Tapping the unknown rhythm on your thighs, you reach to press what you think might be the radio button. Your aren’t good with modern technology, so you smile triumphantly to yourself, hearing the first tunes blasting from the speakers. 

The slow pop-ballad ends and radio host announces next song as ‘fan favorite’. You look out of the window for a short while just to be brought back to the reality by the sound playing in the background. You know this song more than well.

“No. We are not listening to this.” Jungkook reaches to change the radio station with a speed of light, but you swat his hand away.  

“Jesus christ, stop being so dramatic. I love Blood Sweat and Tears! It’s a masterpiece.” you protest.

“I thought you don’t listen to our songs.”

You gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been to your concert twice, dumbass. And I’m saving up money for another.”  

That, is true. You like listening to BTS not because of Jungkook (though he might one of the reasons you fancy them) but it’s their music and message in general. Now, since they’re over their badboy phases and objectifying women in every ‘love song’, you’re fond of them even more.

You start humming Namjoon’s part when Jungkook cuts in. “Okay, then. Who’s your bias?” he asks.  

You don’t miss the way he seems to grip the steering wheel tighter. Of course he would be that petty to ask you this. To entertain yourself a little, you quip, “Take a wild guess.”  

“It has to be Jimin-hyung.” he says right away.

You shake your head. “Boo. Try again.”  

“Namjoon-hyung. You bit your lip when he started rapping his part.”  

“That’s bullshit. Namjoon’s hot but not my type. And you should keep your eyes on the road, buddy.” Placing your fingers on his chin, you turn his head away.

Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”  

“Taehyung.”  

Hearing your response, he snorts. “I should’ve known that.”

“And why is that?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

“Because he’s the most good looking from us all. He dresses stylishly,” You could tell by the tongue in his cheek you’re irking him right now. Adding to the irony, Taehyung’s part in the song comes blasting from the speakers. “He has a nice, deep voice.” Jungkook adds and before he can name another positive trait of his friend, you chime in.  

“Is somebody jealous?”  

Though you’re clearly making fun of him, he decides to chuckle like he doesn’t give a fuck anyway. “Jealous? Of Tae? Please. I have no reason to be.”  

Smirking to yourself, you find his demeanor too entertaining. “That’s good then. Because I think you’re handsome too. And I love your voice when you sing.” you say, turning your head to the side to observe his reaction.  

No matter how much he tries to hide it, clenching his jaw and giving you an eye roll, there’s no use for that. The blush covering his cheeks gives him anyway. His agony ends with one last beat of the song.  

Hiding a yawn behind your palm, you lean back onto your seat. Last night you didn’t get as much as you’d like to and your four hours long drive to Busan seems like a great opportunity for a compensatory nap.  

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you remember is Jungkook’s hands on the steering wheel and his soft voice humming the song playing in the radio.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up. We’re almost there.”  

Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with familiar-looking streets of your hometown, Busan. You jerk abruptly, straightening your posture. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” you ask, looking to your left at Jungkook.  

He shrugs in response. “You looked like you didn’t want to be waken. And trust me, I know what it feels like to be brought back to reality from a good nap too early.”  

You don’t dwell on that more. Instead, you look out of the window, greedily drinking in the city. You’re now driving through downtown, passing by shining skyscrapers. Both yours and Jungkook’s houses are situated in a more peaceful area of Busan, closer to the sea. That’s why you spent most of your childhood and teenage days there as long as the weather was merciful.  

Spring has always been your favourite time of the year but spring in Busan hits different. You don’t have an occasion to sit by the sea and watch the sky burning in orange and red in Seoul. Here, where you used to grow up, spring is the cherry tree blossoming, your mum planting vegetable seeds in her small garden behind your house, you and Jungkook smoking cigarettes underneath the pier while the sun hides  behind the horizon.

“Did you tell your parents you’re coming?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.  

“No, I didn’t. I want it to be a surprise for them.”  

“Oh, that’s cute.” he comments curtly and turns right. You’re approximately thirty minutes until you reach your destination. “I need to talk with you about one more thing before we get there.”  

You focus your sight on him, however he seems to avoid your eyes. You give him a sign to continue. “Go on.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with his hand and then sighs. It’s a nervous habit of his, you recognize. “I just want to apologize for causing you so much trouble. Not only last time but in general,” He stops at the red light and cocks his head to the side to look at you. “I acted like a complete dick and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry for everything. I thought this small trip here would be some sort of redemption for me, I don’t know.” The lights turns to orange, then to green and he focuses his eyes on the road again.

Reaching over the gearshift, you place a hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he peeks at you with the same, round, sparkly eyes you’ve grown to adore, all you can do is smile softly. “I’m okay, Kook. If that’s what you need, I don’t mind helping you. If only it means you’ll be okay too.”  

Perhaps he notices the sadness in your eyes when you say it. Perhaps he can tell your smile is not the happiest he’s ever seen. If he does, he chooses to stay silent. Instead, he nods. Taking his action as a sight to withdraw, you straighten on your seat.  

“There’s one more anything, actually,” Jungkook adds after a while.  

“What is it?”  

“You’re invited to a party.”  

“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.

‘’We are celebrating Junghyun’s engagement.” he says casually.

Eyes widening, you let out a shocked gasp. “What?! Your brother got engaged?” 

Jungkook sends you a look. “Jealous, buttercup?”  

You roll your eyes. “I told you I had a crush on your brother when I was ten. It’s been twelve years since then. Twelve!” you exclaim, but he only smirks in response.  

The reason you liked Junghyun as a kid was simple: he was your best friend’s older brother. He was just there yet unreachable at the same time.  

(And he didn’t have as many pimples as Jungkook.)

But Junghyun getting married? That is a news to you. You clearly remember him telling you one day he would never form a serious relationship before he reaches thirty. Looks like he made up his mind.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised he decided to settle down. Junghyun has always been more of a free soul when it comes to dating. I even remember your mum throwing him a tantrum during barbecue because of this.” you say.

“Honestly, I’m not that shocked. You should’ve seen him looking at Hyerin during our Christmas dinner. This boy is whipped.” Jungkook chuckles.  

“Your parents must be happy.” you comment absentmindedly.

He nods, the corners of his mouth stretching in a small smile. “Yeah, they are. They really like Hyerin. And considering they won’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon thanks to my line of work–” he trails off, “–they are even happier that hyung is settling down.”  

The air seems heavy now inside Jungkook’s car. He said an obvious thing you were aware of but something aches in your chest at the thought.

You will never understand why there’s so much stigmatization surrounding idols dating other people. Wanting to be loved by someone is a natural, human need. Prohibition won’t magically stop them from catching feelings.  

But there’s also another side of the story – the one Jungkook referred to. In his line of work even if there are no obstacles, it’s hard to maintain a long-lasting relationship. And he knows that.  

You still remember vividly his first girlfriend. Her name was Eunbi and she was one of their manager’s daughter. Her dad used to take her to the MV sets, introduced her to the boys because she was a fan of them. And that’s how she met Jungkook.  

Jungkook, age seventeen, was too shy to hold a proper conversation and keep eye contact with a girl at the same time but somehow, him and Eunbi got along pretty quickly. They shared a sympathy for the same video games and for Jungkook back then it was enough to fall head over heels for her. She was his first kiss as he told you (”First real one, because I don’t count that peck Jisoo gave me in fifth grade as a kiss.”)  

After that moment you decided you’d never like Eunbi. Not because you were furiously in love with him, no.

You just didn’t want to see him form such a close bond with anyone else but you.

Their fairytale love story ended when Eunbi’s father found out about their secret randez-vous. Jungkook sulked for a week and then eventually got over Eunbi.  

(And he was again texting you about that video game you had no interest in but you pretended to be a good substitute for Eunbi and her nerdiness you lacked.)

“What are you thinking about?”  

You’re standing on the red light again. Glancing at Jungkook, you find him staring right back at you. “I’m wondering whether I’m invited to the wedding.” you lie.

“Of course you are. I’m sure hyung is going to do it officially tomorrow,” he answers with a grin. “I think Taehyung is coming too. He loves weddings.”  

Narrowing your eyes, you reply with a saccharine sweet voice, “It’s about time you introduce me to your bandmates. Especially Taehyung-oppa.”

“Oppa?”

You bite your lip. There’s no doubt you did that on purpose. You find it rather amusing to see Jungkook so worked up over such a silly thing. You wonder how far you can go before he finally snaps.  

Smirking to yourself, shrug your shoulders. “The light’s green. Watch the road, Kookie.”  

Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. It’s approximately fifteen minutes until you reach your destination. “I’m sure you will be delighted to meet him.” he says with enough amount of sarcasm for you to know he’s irritated.

“Oh, I will be over the moon.”  

“Good.”  

“Amazing, even.”

You hope he doesn’t notice you failing to maintain a serious expression.

You moved with your parents to your new house in Busan at the age of eight, two ponytails, overalls and sparkly sneakers every kid wanted to have adoring your small frame, a look of pure concern worrying your childish, chubby features. 

It was a quiet neighborhood, on the suburbs of the town, a row of similarly looking terraced buildings and small gardens in front of them, every single one akin to the other. There was nothing distinctive about the area, it screamed dullness and tedium but for years you have grown to call this place home.

You know every corner here inside out. A local grocery store owned by a lovable, elder woman known as Miss Kim, who always has spare candies underneath the counter for children who come to buy something for their parents. Next to the store, there is a florist’s. Your first, high school part-time job. The intense smell of roses makes you nauseous to these days.

There is also your primary school, huge backyard behind it with a run-down playground. You never minded it though, spending there probably too much time for your parents liking. Many memories were made there. First, innocent childish peck placed on your cheek from a 6th grader named Jinyoung. Twisted ankle, tears, pain and regret because you decided to jump off the highest step of the climbing frame one Friday afternoon after classes. A punch to the face of school’s bully Dongin, who called your new pair of Converse trainers ugly.

It was exactly fourteen days before the end of August when you met Jungkook.

You had been living in the new house for almost a month but still felt too insecure to explore the neighborhood. Most of your time you were spending inside, missing your old friends and reading books to distract your attention from the approaching start of the second semester in school.  

It was probably one of the last scorching-hot days of the year and you were sitting in your garden alone, family’s cat named Leo purring on your lap, when all of a sudden a ball bounced on the grass right in front of you, landing perfectly at your feet and almost scarring Leo to death.  

And then, you looked up and saw him.

A pair of big, black doe-like eyes hidden behind a fringe of onyx hair staring at you through the fence curiously. The boy was not much older than you, probably around your age. He was wearing a striped football t-shirt with some popular team name.  

You fidgeted slightly on the pavement where you were sitting, glancing at the boy shyly like you didn’t know why he was looking at you so intensely. You noticed a small scar on his left cheek, his knees were bruised, splashed with dirt just like his sneakers.  

“Can you give me my ball?” he asked suddenly, startling you.  

Your eyes widened. Of course he would talk to you, you scolded yourself, he wants his ball back.

When you didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “I kicked my ball here by an accident. Can you give it to me?” He pointed at the object lying at your feet.  

You nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. You threw it over the fence, so it landed directly on the other side.

“Thanks.” the black-haired boy said. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. What’s your name?”  

“___.” you responded and the boy, Jungkook, grinned at you friendly, showing his bunny-like smile. He looked cute.  

“Bye, ___! See you tomorrow!” he beamed and headed back to his house.

Tomorrow. He wanted to meet up with you and what? Play football? You were petrified, as the eight-years-old girl should be after hearing such thing from a boy.

And just like he promised, Jungkook visited you the next day. He took you to that playground behind your new primary school. You came home with bruised legs and splotches of dirt on your skirt, to your mother’s dismay.

You also came home with a content grin plastered on your face and a new friend.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook appeared to be a pleasant company and you found yourself enjoying his boyish bickering while fulfilling the rest of the summer break doing things your old friends would consider inappropriate for a girl.

You never thought you could be friends with someone like Jungkook. He was a boy, for God’s sake, and your eight-years-old-barbie-phase-self absolutely despised boys. But months passed quickly and you both found yourselves stuck to each other sides. Something in your relationship simply clicked.

The neighborhood you grew up in isn’t a suburban area but it definitely seems more peaceful than busy streets of downtown. You pass by local church, miss Kim’s store and the big, luxurious house owned my Gwon family you dreamt of living in when you were a kid.  

And then, approximately two hundred meters further, there is your house.  

“Here we are.” Jungkook says, pulling up at his parent’s driveway. They left the gate open, anticipating their son’s arrival.  

Jungkook hands you your belongings, offering you sheepish smile. “I thought that once you unpack and eat dinner, we could go to the beach together,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course, only if you want to.”  

You don’t give his proposition a second thought. “I’d love to.”  

He grins in response and you take it as a sign to leave and finally meet your parents. From the distance you see your mother in the garden, dressed in her usual clothing – black and red checked shirt and cropped denim pants she wears while gardening.

She doesn’t notice you yet, too busy pulling weeds from her precious tulips. You know her better not to creep behind her like that, so you take a deep breath and shout, “Eomma! It’s me!”  

She stands up and twirls around to face you. Her eyes visibly widen, like she actually thought her mind is playing tricks on her and she might have misheard you.  

“Good Lord, Y/N, sweetie, is that really you?” She throws away her gloves and jogs up to you, enveloping you immadietly in a bear hug. “I missed you so much. Why didn’t you say anything you’re coming?”  

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mumble. “Jungkook took me with him.”  

At that, your mother pulls away. She arches her brows. “Jungkookie is home as well?” she asks, earning a nod from you in response. “You’re talking with him again?” Her voice is laced with apparent bewilderment but that’s exactly what you expected her reaction to be like.  

Your mother is aware you and Jungkook haven’t been keeping in touch for three long years. She was basically your only source of information about him (besides Twitter) thanks to her close friendship with his parents.  

“That’s quite a long story. I will tell you everything later.” you say. Well, maybe not entirely everything. You’re for sure going to miss out the parts you’re not proud of.  

Your mother doesn’t press you more about it. Instead, she puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “It’s your lucky day sweetie, because we have your favorite bulgogi for dinner. Honey, come here quick!” she shouts and you chuckle, hearing your father responding with: “What is it again?”.

The door to your house creak open, revealing your flustered dad. His expression morphs into a genuine smile when he spots you. “Is it really my daughter or are my eyes deceiving me?” he asks.  

‘’Your eyesight is fine, appa. It’s really me.” You come up and give him a small hug. He was never the affectionate type of parent but once you moved out, he let his facade break a little.  

From where you’re standing now, you have a clear view of Jeons’ house. Here, fourteen years ago, sitting on your porch, you met Jungkook for the first time. You see his window upstairs, alligned perfectly with yours. You wonder if he’s already there, inside, unpacking in his blue-painted childhood room.  

(What if it isn’t painted blue anymore?)

“Come on, let’s go. You’re probably starving.” your mother says, pulling your mind back to the present.  

Walking into your house, all you can think about are his tears-filled eyes when you were bidding him goodbye almost ten years ago in his blue bedroom.

It takes you more or less thirty minutes to reach the bay.  

When you were younger, you used to ride there by bikes practically every single day during summer. You loved sitting on the beach and observing people enjoying their time; swimming in the sea, kids building sand castles and their mums trying to relax among childlike chatter and the smell coming from nearby fishmonger’s store.

It was Jungkook who discovered the spot underneath pier. His curiosity only a twelve-year-old can posses led him there one day after school. At first, you were rather reluctant to go and didn’t mirror his excitement but once he actually showed you it, you changed your mind completely.  

It was a perfect place to hide from the world. You called it a ‘temple’ because it really felt like no one beside you knew about its existence, and that’s what made it sacred to you. When Jungkook moved away you were left to go there by yourself. Without him, it always felt like it was something missing.  

Right now, sitting here feels like you’ve you’ve turned back the time.  

It’s like you’re eighteen again, running away from the whole world, starting your own rebellion with a cigarette caught between your lips and sun disappearing behind the horizon. Listening to the songs Jungkooks had saved on his old iPod and catching up with everything that happened during the last few months when he was absent in your life. 

When you were eighteen you didn’t even know how to smoke properly, blowing out the fume too quickly and stiffing a cough so Jungkook wouldn’t laugh at you. Now it’s a different story.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you notice how much he’s changed physically over these five years that have passed. Gone is the baby fat on his cheeks, replaced with sculpted jawline and prominent nose. His hair is longer, falling on his forehead. There’s more piercings on his ears, an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.  

He looks breathtaking. It never occurred to you before just how beautiful Jungkook really is up close, when there’s no flashing cameras around and make-up covering every imperfection on his face with concealer.

This is your Jungkook. The same one whose competitive nature never let you win any of his computer games, who called you after their debut showcase with quivering voice, who always treated you as his equal even when other boys were making fun of him for being friends with a girl. Your Jungkook, who’s too good for this world to be treated so unfairly.  

“I think Minho is cheating on me.” you blurt out.  

It’s been sitting on your tongue for weeks and now you finally let the words slip. You don’t see his reaction but from the sharp intake of breath you assume it’s not something he’s expected to hear from you.

“Few weeks ago I read a message on his phone from some girl asking when he will be free next time,” you continue before you could stop yourself. “He’s been meeting with her alone behind my back this whole time and I didn’t notice anything until now.” A pair of arms wrap around your frame. Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. “I don’t even know if that’s true or I’m overreacting but I just can’t understand how he can lie to me one day and the next propose to move in with him.”  

You don’t realise you’re crying until you feel Jungkook hugging you closer to him. You burry you face into his chest as sob after sob shakes your body. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “I’m here.”  

Few minutes pass until you calm down, wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your hand. Jungkook offers you a tissue and you thank him with a small smile. You can only imagine how ridiculous you look right now, with smudges of mascara underneath your eyes and red nose. Not a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest.” you say after a moment.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I’m still your friend, right?” Jungkook asks, meeting your eyes.

You nod, although he’s anything but friend for you. “Right.”  

Because friends don’t console each other with burning touches on bare skin. They don’t give into carnality and submit to pleasure, putting it before everything else.  

From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s jaw clenching. “I’m gonna kick his ass when I meet him.”  

Before you could stop yourself, you mumble, “He should probably kick yours, too.”   

Jungkook visibly stiffens, hearing your words. He avoids your eyes, staring down at his lap instead. You wonder what he’s thinking about now. Does he regret his actions? Do you regret letting it happen? No matter how much you know you did wrong, there’s a part of you longing for more. Because with Jungkook, you felt alive. Minho could never compare.

Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.  

You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.  

It’s Jungkook who speaks first.

“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”  

“I do.” you whisper truthfully.

He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”  

You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.

There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.  

But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.

The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.  

He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.  

The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.  

“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.  

“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.

Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.  

Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.  

“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”  

Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.  

“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.  

“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.  

“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.

Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.

“Tell me about it.”  

She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”  

Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.

Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.  

Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.  

“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”  

Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.  

As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.  

And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.

You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.

“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.

For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.

“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.

“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.

Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.

“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.

You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.

“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.

Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”  

“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.  

Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.

“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.  

Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”  

“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.

Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”  

You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.  

“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”  

Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.  

That your little infatuation had a sequel.  

Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”

Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.

“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”  

“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”  

Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing  stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”  

The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.  

Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.

What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls.  You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.

“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”  

To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.  

Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”

Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.  

But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?  

The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away. 

Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.

By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.  

Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.  

Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.

“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”  

Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.

Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.  

And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.

“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.  

“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”  

From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.

“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.

Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.

“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”  

“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”  

You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”  

Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”  

You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”  

“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”  

Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.  

(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)

You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.

“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.

Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”  

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  

You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.  

“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”  

Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.

“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.

Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.  

Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.

“Want to get out of here for a while?”  

Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.

“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”  

“But–”

He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.

Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”  

“Ladies first.”  

“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”  

You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.

“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.

You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”

He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”  

“Exactly!”  

You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.

“So you did get rid of him after all.”  

Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.  

Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”  

“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”  

Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.

Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.

“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.  

“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”  

It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.  

Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.  

It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”  

You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.

“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”  

You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”  

It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.  

“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.

It’s longing.  

“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”  

You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.  

“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”  

He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”  

He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.  

“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”  

And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”  

You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.  

And you need to hear him say it.

“Promise?”  

Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.

For now, it has to be enough.

Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.

But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.

“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”

“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”  

“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”  

He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”  

Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”  

Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”

You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”  

He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.  

You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.  

“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.

He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.  

There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes. 

Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.  

You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.  

“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.

Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”  

“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.

Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.

“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.  

He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”  

It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing.  You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”  

‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.

He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening. 

“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.  

“So good,” you mewl.  

“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.  

“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”  

“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.

His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.

“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”  

He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”  

Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.

Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.  

He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.  

You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.  

“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.  

Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.  

You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”  

He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh. 

‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.

“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”

“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”  

He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.  

It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).  

He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,”  You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”

Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”

“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”  

You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.  

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.  

You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.  

He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.  

“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.

Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss. 

He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”  

Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”  

By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.

When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”

Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.

Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.

“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.  

You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.  

“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.  

“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”  

“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.  

You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”  

He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.  

“Always.”  

You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.

[4 months later]

“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”

You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.

The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.

Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.  

The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.  

He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.

You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.  

[5:55pm] jungkook:  

We’re departing in 20 minutes  

I’m missing you already so much:(

You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.  

[6:01pm] me:  

Miss u too!!

And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.  

The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.

You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.  

However long it takes.  

[jamespotterthefirst]

Fake Husband (Ethan x F!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,800+ Warning: Some adult language Premise: When they run into her ex, Ethan pretends to be married to her to spite him. Author’s Note: A silly fake husband fluff piece because I’m a sucker for that trope.

_____________________

The appreciation dinner that was supposed to include the whole diagnostics team quickly dwindled down to only Ethan and Lilac. Baz had a date and only stayed for the first course, Naveen followed suit minutes after, claiming to be too old to stay up past nine thirty, and June hadn't even replied to the invite. 

Briefly, Ethan wondered if the old doctor had planned it that way. Especially considering the knowing smile he directed at Ethan before his departure. 

Lilac met his eye, a teasing smile of her own at the ready. 

“If you wanted to touch me that badly, you could've just asked,” she said in a low, tempting whisper that made his pulse quicken. 

In a moment of delayed reaction, Ethan forgot his foot had brushed against hers under the dinner table more times than he cared to admit. And of course she was going to call him out on it. 

“If I'd wanted to touch you as badly as you claim, we'd be elsewhere.”

“Where would that be?” she returned without a single moment's hesitation. “Your bedroom or mine?”

God, she was good. 

Typically, Ethan would not allow their banter to get this explicit, but something was different that night. Or perhaps all it took to vanquish his conviction was her coquettish smile, the tantalizing glimmer of her bright eyes, and the almost indecent dress clinging to her. 

They were a long way away from innocent hand holding. 

“Ambitious of you to think we'd make it that far.”

She looked impressed for a split second. Before she could reply, however, her eyes fell on something over his shoulder. Her expression went from incredulity, to recognition, and finally to something on the cusp of panic in seconds. 

“We have to go,” she said when her eyes returned to him. 

Ethan glanced over his shoulder, noting nothing out of the ordinary in the crowded restaurant. Then again, the pretentiously dim lighting made it difficult to see properly. "Why?" 

Lilac didn't respond immediately. She seemed to be considering whether to tell him or not. “There's someone here I'd much rather avoid,” she allowed.

That explanation was too meek to warrant such a reaction. Ethan kept his face impassive. “Who?”

Defeated, she finally admitted, “My ex.” 

A beat. 

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not that. 

“He's sitting by the exit at the bar. The one in the dark turquoise suit,” Lilac explained, absentminded. 

Ethan almost rolled his eyes derisively at the phrase “dark turquoise suit.” Only pompous, self-centered assholes with a lot to prove wore unconventional colors to dinner. 

Before he could help himself, Ethan looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse. A young man around Lilac's age casually sat at the bar, deep in conversation with a group of his peers, all wearing equally obnoxious suits. Even from a distance, he could see the strong jaw, straight nose, and gleaming smile that might have drawn her in once upon a time. It was somewhat disappointing that he was not hideous, like Ethan had hoped. 

“A doctor?” he asked, retroactively wondering why it mattered. 

“Lawyer,” she replied.

Even worse, he thought. 

“Please, Ethan,” she implored quietly. “I don't want him to see me. Things…” she trailed off and he could see a flicker of pain in her expression. “It did not end well.”

Ethan tried to hide his curiosity to spare her any more embarrassment. He failed spectacularly because she noticed and added, “I dated him for two years while finishing my undergrad. We were really serious until… he cheated.”

His jaw clenched on instinct. “I see.” 

“With my best friend at the time,” she added in a small voice. 

“Jesus,” he said reflexively, aware the single-word reaction was not enough. 

Her gaze dropped to her plate, looking almost ashamed. The sight sent a surge of vindictive anger through him. Ethan wanted nothing more than to march across the restaurant, grab him the lapels of his ostentatious suit, and make him hurt worse than the pain she currently exhibited. 

“Fine,” he consented instead. “Let’s get out of here. He's too busy talking to his lawyer friends. If we go now, he probably won't see you.”

Lilac looked like she could kiss him. After being informed that Naveen had paid the bill, they rose from their seats in a rush and made a beeline toward the exit. 

“Stay close,” Ethan murmured in her ear as they walked, careful to use his body to cover her from his view. 

They were so close to the exit that he could see her visibly relax. 

“Thank goodness you’re so tall,” she teased, a few feet from the exit. Growing more confident, she quickened her step slightly. 

“Lilac—” he started, unable to keep up with her pace. But before he could say more, he was intercepted by someone who had been sitting at the bar. 

“Dr. Ramsey?” An older doctor who used to work at Edenbrook greeted him. 

Ethan halted, his eyes trained on her back as she continued walking, unaware he was no longer behind her. At the same time, Turquoise Suit looked over his shoulder as she passed, recognizing her at once. 

“Lilac?” he asked, getting to his feet. “Lilac Allende is that you?” 

She froze mid stride. 

Meanwhile, the older doctor ranted to Ethan about owning a private practice, blissfully unaware that Ethan neither listened nor cared. 

“How you’ve been?” he heard him ask her, pulling her in for a hug. Lilac, too stunned to react, stood limp in his embrace. It lasted far longer than was necessary, his hands sliding along her sides indulgently. Ethan had the sudden urge to punch him. 

“How's Edenbrook?” Dr. Rosetti asked Ethan after his incessant chatter. “Heard Naveen's the chief.”

“Fine,” Ethan replied absently, eyes trained on Lilac. She was saying something, finally having recovered from her shock. She was far too gracious to give that prick the time of day. 

Turquoise nodded attentively, flashing her a seemingly charming smile. The ambiance of the restaurant combined with Dr. Rosetti's droning voice made it difficult for Ethan to hear them. He caught only snippets of what was said. 

“...a doctor now?” Turquoise was asking her. His hands were still on Lilac, a remnant of his embrace. “I’m really proud of you.”

Ethan’s hands clenched at his sides. 

Lilac took a small but polite step back, freeing herself from his grip. She replied something Ethan couldn’t hear. Even from afar, he could tell her ex was not listening, instead he covertly scanned the plunge of Lilac’s neckline. “You look great,” Ethan heard him say. “Time’s been good to you.”

That was the last straw. 

The nerve of this fucking guy. 

Ears ringing, Ethan marched toward them, not even bothering with a goodbye to poor Dr. Rosetti. Maybe he was acting on the sudden spike of adrenaline coursing through his body, or maybe his judgement was shot the second Turquoise smugly uttered the words “...we should go out for coffee some time”, but Ethan had decided what to say in the seconds it took him to reach them. 

It was reckless, and Lilac might deny it instantly, but the urge to help her while simultaneously wiping the superior smirk off his face clouded his judgement. 

Turquoise looked up as he approached, furrowing his brow quizzically. Lilac turned to meet his eyes and the relief he saw there was further motivation for what he was about to do next. 

Without stopping to think or even breathe lest he lose his nerve, Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her in to place a tender kiss on her temple.

“Ready to go, love?” Ethan murmured. 

Lilac paused briefly in surprise, looking up to study his face which he hoped conveyed his intentions. It must have because her lips quivered with the effort of fighting back a smile. She relaxed into his touch, sliding her hand up his jacket to rest on his chest.

“Yes, but only if you carry me out,” she replied, fingers toying with his tie. It was entirely too distracting. “I ate way too much bread.”

“You always want me to carry you,” Ethan returned, feeling his ears grow hot. “Is that the only reason you married me?”

Might as well go all out on this Oscar-worthy performance. Her eyes met his at the word "married," her smile so radiant that something tugged at his chest. 

“Among other things,” she replied with a coy smile, raising herself on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Heart hammering against his chest, Ethan marveled at how easy it was for them. It was worth it, however, because Turquoise gaped at them, his expression comically dumbstruck. 

Lilac made a show of remembering he was there. “Oh, right," she said with a small shake of her head. "Ethan, this is Alex Rhodes. We went to UCLA together.” 

Her ex’s eyes darted to Lilac quickly, as if expecting her to add more of their history to the introduction. 

“Alex, this is Doctor Ethan Ramsey," she continued, gesturing towards Ethan. "My husband.”

Alex blinked repeatedly in astonishment. When he recovered, he looked at Ethan with renewed interest. “Ethan Ramsey?” he repeated. Looking at Lilac now, he added, “The author of that book you used to read so much?”

Lilac looked genuinely embarrassed at that. Her cheeks flushed in a way Ethan found too endearing. 

“Long time fan, Rookie?” he teased. 

"She would talk nonstop about you," Alex continued, still looking utterly bewildered. "You're the reason she worked so hard to go to med school." 

Ethan raised his eyebrows at her. She refused to meet his eye, blushing redder than he'd ever seen her. 

“I can't believe you met your idol,” Alex said, almost to himself. 

“Married him, too,” Ethan added. 

“We should really get going, babe,” Lilac interjected, shooting Ethan a pointed glare. 

He almost laughed.

Their mission was undeniably accomplished because by the time Lilac said a hasty goodbye to her ex, he looked unabashedly envious and ready to eat his heart out. 

Once in Ethan’s car, Lilac let out a loud snort of laughter. “That was the best thing that ever happened to me,” she professed, eyes bright with delight.

Ethan briefly glanced at her as he drove, a small smile of his own at his lips. The light from the passing street lamps rendered her face lovelier still. With a small ache, he wished it hadn’t been pretend. 

Lilac noticed his suddenly serious expression, a question already furrowing her brow.

Before she could ask, he forced a smile and taunted, “What did you ever see in that guy?”

It worked. Lilac rolled her eyes. “Shut up,” she said with another laugh. “Thanks for the save, by the way. I owe you.”

“The stupid look on his face was payment enough.”

“Do you think we fooled him?”

Ethan said nothing, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead. He was convinced their fib has been successful, at least on his part. Much to his embarrassment, there was no concealing the utterly love struck way he felt when he looked at her in the restaurant, her hand resting on his chest as if it were second nature. There was no doubt it had been written all over his face for all of Boston to see.

Instead of incriminating himself, he said, “Lawyer boy looked angry, which means he bought it.” Ethan grimaced. “Again, you sure know how to pick 'em, Rookie.”

Lilac laughed, the sound almost giddy as a result of the adrenaline. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan could see the way her gaze fixed on him. “My taste in men has gotten much more refined throughout the years, I assure you.”

________

Click Here for Part 2

________

Author’s Note: THANK YOU if you made it this far! Also, thank you for all the love and support on my last fics! 

 Sorry for the lack of originality in the title. I’ve been naming my fics after Billie Eilish or Harry Styles songs. I couldn’t think of one for this one so if you have something, let me know <3

Shout out to the people who helped me out with the pet name Ethan would used for MC, his wife! You guys are the best! 

Masterlist

_________

Tags: @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | @the-soot-sprite | @infinitiestones | @emotionalswift2 | @flyawayboo |  @paulfwesley | @hatescapsicum​| @myusualnerdyself​ | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ |  @togetherwearerapture | @nooruleman​

(If I forgot anyone, please call me out)

[mortuarybees]

@ratfriends​ this is mostly just jaskier being an idiot who’s protective of someone who could crush a man’s head like a grape pls enjoy

Before Geralt, Jaskier’s experience traveling was fairly mundane. He would show up at a tavern, get a room, and hope to the gods he would make enough coin performing there to pay for it. Food was often a second priority to getting a bed and a roof over his head, because he truly never considered another alternative, and he often fell asleep hungry on lumpy straw mattresses in seedy taverns.

Geralt, however, seemed to loathe taverns, and Jaskier wasn’t entirely sure why. He enjoyed hot baths, food that wasn’t travel provisions or whatever game he managed to hunt, a nice bed; he would deny it, but Jaskier knew him well enough by now to see he clearly preferred it. Still, he tensed the moment they entered--the moment they crossed into any kind of settlement, really.

The reason only became clear after several months together, the first time they entered a tavern and the whole room quieted, a wave of silence rippling out from them like a stone tossed into a lake, as the patrons leaned over to whisper to their neighbors.

“That’s a bloody witcher, that is,” one murmured, and his companion gasped. “The Butcher of Blaviken, I’ll bet.”

Geralt paid them no mind, lumbering over to the least visible table, and Jaskier hurried to keep up with him, chattering with insistent cheer. “What a fine place,” he said. “Really, isn’t it? A wonderful...atmosphere, yes, and smell that, Geralt, is that lamb? You love lamb. A leg of lamb, here for my friend,” he called to the wide-eyed servant stopped in her tracks carrying ale to a nearby table. Geralt cut him an amused look, as if he knew what Jaskier was doing. “Please, if you would. And a big plate of potatoes too--and you might want to get another leg cooking, he’s a heavy eater, my friend. What else have you got? Stew? I’ll take stew.”

He took the seat opposite Geralt, his own back to the room, trusting him to keep a look out if anyone unwisely decided to try and start something with a witcher. “I think I’ll eat before I sing,” he said thoughtfully, determined not to acknowledge the still-silent tavern. “You’ve coin to pay for this round, yes? From the vampires you killed? Did I tell you, I finished the ballad I was writing for that one?” He put his lute on the table and opened the case, strumming before he was even entirely situated. In his experience, the best way to settle down a suspicious town was to play until he was the last conscious person in the room. “In the Old Manor’s shadow, ’neath the ghoulish green light--”

“Hey, bard,” one of the patrons yelled, and Jaskier turned around, mildly irritated--Geralt was going to like the one about the vampiress, he was sure, he liked the maudlin ones that lent sympathy to the monsters.

“Yes, good sir?” he asked, cheerful as he could.

“Play the Butcher of Blaviken,” he called, and his table erupted in laughter. “Come on, you must know it. Cold was the the night, and harsh was the wind, when came that horrid blight, to the town of Blaviken--”

“I don’t,” Jaskier snapped. “I’ve never liked those silly maudlin children’s songs that could not more obviously be false.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned.

“I do know Toss a Coin to Your Witcher, if you’d like to--”

“False, huh, bard?” the man said, getting to his feet and prowling towards them, several of his friends in tow. “And how would you know?”

Jaskier clenched his jaw. “As it happens, I’ve met Geralt of Rivia, my good sir, and I happen to know he would never butcher an entire village.”

“That so,” the man said. “This him, I take it? Yeah,” he said, eyes trained on Geralt without waiting for an answer. “Eyes like a wild animal, and what’s the song say? Hair white as the bones he cracks.” The man spit, and Jaskier leapt to his feet, alarmingly close to the horrible man, close enough to smell his breath, reeking of ale.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, standing, but Jaskier ignored him.

“Excuse me,” he snapped, “but I’m simply trying to have a quiet drink with my friend here. As it happens, he just slew an entire nest of vampires which plagued a village for some years, and I imagine he’s quite tired. So if you could return to your table and continue attempting to eat that steak with all three of your teeth, I think we would appreciate it a great deal.”

“You think you’re tough, bard?” he sneered, and shoved Jaskier back against the table.

“That’s enough,” Geralt said, his voice tight with barely-controlled fury, and his hand landed on Jaskier’s shoulder as he came to his side, angled in front of him.

“We’re not scared of you, witcher,” said the man. “You raise your sword against us and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“I think you should leave now,” one of his friends, who didn’t seem to agree. “And don’t come back.”

There was a beat of silence, a muscle in Geralt’s jaw jumping, but he nodded. “So we will,” he ground out, and Jaskier sighed.

He returned his lute to its case, Geralt hovering at his shoulder, and they made their way toward the door.

“Ha!” One of the man’s friends laughed. “Say what you want about them, never heard of a coward witcher before.”

“They’re all cowards,” the man sneered, following after them. “Takes a coward to mutate himself to get a leg up in a fight and slaughter an entire village.”

Jaskier stopped and whirled around, and the man almost crashed into him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped. “He’s leaving to protect you, you irrelevant idiot, though you hardly deserve it--”

It wasn’t the first time Jaskier had been punched, but it had perhaps never taken him so off-guard, and he stumbled back, clutching at his nose and gaping at the man. “What is wrong with you?” he spat, and because this wasn’t his first time being punched, he immediately punched back.

Geralt was in front of him before he could blink, fisting the man’s shirt in his hand, and lifted him onto his toes. “You’ll walk away,” he seethed, and shoved him back, and gods, if that wasn’t a little hot.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, still shaking his hand out. Fuck, punching someone fucking hurt. How did Geralt do this all the time? 

“Go crawl back into the mountains, witcher, and stay there until you rot,” said the man, stumbling back and clutching at the bruise forming on his cheek. “Nobody wants your kind.”

He wasn’t sure, exactly, what possessed him to try and shove past Geralt towards the man, something hot and furious surging in his chest, but Geralt caught him by the waist, hauling him out. “I hope you get eaten by--by--by a bloody graveir, you ungrateful, stupid bastard, I hope you die remembering this--”

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped, slamming the tavern door closed behind him. “Shut. Up.”

“Why do you let them talk to you like that?” he demanded, pushing away from him. He stalked towards the stables, his anger bubbling in his blood. 

“Because it doesn’t matter what they say,” Geralt said. “It matters what I do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jaskier muttered, and took a deep breath, reminding himself that Geralt was the last person he was angry with right now. “I know. I know. It just makes me so angry.” He entered the stable and went to Roach immediately, eager to be out of this horrible village.

“Why?”

Jaskier frowned, stroking Roach’s nose. “What?”

“Why does it make you so angry?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier turned to see him leaning against a post, head tilted as if he was genuinely curious. “They’re not talking about you.”

“Because you’re my friend, you big idiot,” Jaskier said, absolutely baffled. “I know, I know, you’re not my friend, but you are. I might not be yours, but you’re mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Geralt looked at him for a long moment, brow furrowed, and Jaskier--waited. He did a lot of waiting for Geralt, he was beginning to realize, but he didn’t mind so much. It didn’t feel like waiting, just--falling into step, maybe.

He said nothing, though, only hummed, and said idly, “don’t touch Roach.” Jaskier rolled his eyes, moving away so Geralt could retrieve her from the stall. He stopped after a moment, though, hands pausing in the practiced ritual of bridling her, and he didn’t look at Jaskier when he said, “that was stupid.”

“What was?” Jaskier’s brows raised.

“I could’ve let them beat the shit out of you,” Geralt said. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“Firstly, they wouldn’t be the first,” he said, and Geralt snorted. “Secondly, I would’ve talked myself out of it, as I always do--I do! Don’t laugh. Thirdly, you wouldn’t have.”

“I could have,” he said, and it was Jaskier’s turn to laugh.

“I know you, Geralt,” he said, and Geralt finally did look at him, something odd in his eyes. “I trust you. You wouldn’t have.”

Geralt held his gaze for a beat and looked away. “Hmm,” he said, eloquently. “Maybe not.”

Despite the cold drizzle of rain as they left the village behind and the ache in his nose and his hand, Jaskier couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

[chenziee]

hello, can i request lawlu and frobin from outsider pov? thank you

Thank you, anon, for giving me an excuse to write this xD I hope you don’t mind some absolutely ridiculous, silly first dates with non-consensual meet-the-family.

This fic is the continuation to my Lawlu fic [Good friends (don’t) kiss] that I have wanted to write since publishing the original fic. It is absolutely NOT necessary to read the prequel to understand this fic :)

Enjoy~

Boyfriends (do) kiss

The innkeeper sighed as he leaned against his broom, looking around the mess that his cozy little inn had become. And the day began so innocently; quiet and slow like any other day. But now there was a charred table and burn spots on the floor, several broken chairs, with cutlery and shattered plates scattered all over. And that was him being lucky. He had been kindly informed some places hit by a similar disaster ended up with broken walls or windows—or both.

It all started a few hours ago when a couple of pirates came in. It was nothing to fret about; once in a while those sea rats would dock at this island and have a meal, then they would run off. None of them tended to stay very long or cause any trouble because of the small navy base just outside town, and even if they did start something, they were usually dealt with quickly. This was no backwater island with no police or competent security, after all.

So, when the two pirates entered, the innkeep paid them almost no mind. That is, until one of his regulars who had been eating his lunch at the counter whispered, "Hey, aren't those two…" He let his sentence fade out, only gesturing frantically in the direction of the two young men, making the innkeep frown and finally take a good look.

They were sitting at a table pretty much at the centre of the room, as if uncaring if anyone noticed them. That alone was not exactly normal in a marine town where pirates tended to keep low and hide in dark corners. The louder, seemingly younger one of them was stuffing his face with gusto, even stealing all the bread off of the other's plate while laughing and teasing his companion, who ate at a much slower pace.

The other one wasn't laughing along, having a much calmer and quieter demeanor, but there was an undeniable, if small, smile on his face. There was also a really familiar, yellow Jolly Roger contrasting against the back of his long, black coat but the innkeeper couldn't for the life of him place it. Narrowing his eyes, he wrecked his brain for where he had seen it, and for just who these people were.

And then his eyes fell on the straw hat hanging on the younger one's neck and it clicked.

Fucking Straw Hat Luffy and Trafalgar Law were casually having lunch in his goddamned inn. He really hoped they weren't going to be planning some big raids while at it or he would have to call the marines. Which he absolutely didn't want to do; there was always so much paperwork involved.

Praying to all that was holy that it wouldn't come to that, the innkeeper observed their interactions, watching for any suspicious movements. After all, two of the Worst Generation captains starting a fight with each other would be just as bad as them planing coups or navy base raids, as well as it was the last thing this old building needed.

Thankfully, it seemed like they were getting along just fine. They were both smiling, speaking quietly with each other and… holding hands? Ah no, that was just Trafalgar handing over the salt. Good. That would be awkward. The touch did seem a little bit too long for a casual contact though.

Just then, the door to the inn opened and in came a couple, a man and woman. Or a giant robot and woman? The robot had his arm placed gently around the woman’s shoulder so it looked like they were together at least.

“Oh! Robin, Franky, are you here to eat, too?” Straw Hat called loudly, waving at the newcomers enthusiastically, and only then did the innkeeper make the connection—they were two members of Straw Hat’s crew, the ‘Iron Man’ Franky and the ‘Demon Child’ Nico Robin. The innkeeper really didn’t like where this seemed to be going.

“That’s right, Luffy,” the cyborg said, equally loud, when the couple reached their captain’s table. “How’s the food here?”

“It’s great! Their bread is amazing,” Straw Hat replied and the innkeep made a mental note to relay the compliment to both his cook and the the town’s baker.

Nico Robin chuckled. “Torao-kun looks like he doesn’t agree.”

Trafalgar made a disgusted face before he looked at her and spoke up, “No, I don’t. But this bottomless pit ate all of my bread anyway and the rest is pretty good.”

“Of course I ate the bread for you, you hate it,” Straw Hat stated matter of factly before he grinned and leaned towards the other captain to give him a long kiss on the cheek, a gesture that earned him an embarrassed click of the tongue from the other pirate.

Oh. Suddenly, the innkeep remembered the newspaper article from three days ago, the one which had claimed the two were dating and which he had discarded as ridiculous and promptly forgot about. Maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

“You two are super cute,” the cyborg announced, making Straw Hat laugh and Trafalgar roll his eyes.

“Wanna join us?” Straw Hat gestured to the two other, currently empty chairs at the table. “We could make it a double date,” he suggested then, glancing to his boyfriend who only shrugged in response, apparently not caring either way.

The other two, however, shook their heads, and Nico Robin spoke up, “It’s your first proper date. You should enjoy it, just the two of you.” She smiled warmly at the two of them before she glanced up at her own huge companion and placed her small hand over his large one which was still resting against her shoulder. “We’ll get another table and we can meet for deserts later?”

“Sounds good!” Straw Hat and the cyborg agreed, both grinning, while Trafalgar only nodded silently at her suggestion.

The innkeeper couldn’t decide whether he was glad the four of them weren’t going to be a concentrated in one place, smack in the centre of the room no less, or if he was annoyed he would now have to keep an eye on two tables with high bounty pirates.

He barely managed to take notice of where the mismatched couple of the Iron Man and the Demon Child—who looked more like an elegant, beautiful lady than either a demon or a child—when someone at the counter called him over. He wondered when this young man got there; he hadn’t noticed him coming in or sitting down. Maybe because he was so preoccupied by the cursed sea dogs.

“Thank you for waiting, sir. What would you like?” the innkeeper asked the man with blond, wavy hair and what looked like a burn scar over his eye. There was a black top hat with a pair of goggles around it lying in the counter next to him.

The man smiled, putting a ten thousand beri bill on the counter. “When Trafalgar Law asks for a drink, can you add this into it?” he asked, pulling out a small bottle.

The innkeeper blinked, staring at the bottle for a moment before slowly looking up to meet the stranger’s eyes. “Are you asking me to poison a man worth 500 million beri?”

“It won’t kill him.” An unhappy, maybe even angry expression appearing on his face before he continued, voice lowering dangerously, “It will just make him regret every decision he had ever made that led to him being here.”

The innkeeper scowled, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded the man. “There will be no poisonings in my inn, lethal or not. I don’t care what your issue with him is but settle it somewhere else.”

“Damn,” the blond cursed, pocketing both the bottle and the bill. “Guess I’ll have to light his face on fire after all. Thanks anyway.”

As soon as he was done speaking, he turned around in his chair to glare at the table where his apparent nemesis was now ruffling his boyfriend’s hair while Straw Hat giggled, trying to push his hand away. When he finally succeeded, he didn’t let go; instead, he laced their fingers together and mumbled something that made Trafalgar look away in obvious embarrassment.

Suddenly, something bright caught the innkeeper’s eyes and when he looked what it was, he gasped. “Sir, you’re on fire!” he cried in alarm.

The blond startled, looking at his hand as if he only just realized it was engulfed in angry, crackling flames. “Whoops. Sorry,” he simply apologized, shanking the hand until the flame died down to nothing. After a mere second, it was as if there was no fire at all. “Glad to know Ace is angry, too.”

“Sabo! What are you doing here?” Straw Hat cried a moment later, jumping up and basically bouncing in place, and the blond cursed at being spotted.

He waved at the pirate awkwardly. “Hey, Luffy. Just—” he paused, seemingly wrecking his brain for a plausible answer— “passing by.”

That was the worst excuse the innkeep had ever heard, and that was counting all the excuses men have ever given to their angry wives who came to pick them up after a night of drinking.

But Straw Hat grinned, nodding happily as if it made perfect sense. Trafalgar Law, on the other hand, eyed the man suspiciously. “Your brother probably came to check up on you, Straw Hat-ya. Since the papers wrote about us,” he said flatly, making the blond glare at him.

Wait. ‘Sabo.’ Straw Hat’s brother. The Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army? That Sabo? This day was getting seriously ridiculous. What was next, a Celestial Dragon?

He barely managed to finish the thought when the entrance door burst open and in came two old men and a goat. The innkeeper couldn’t believe his eyes. They weren’t Celestial Dragons but at this point they might as well be. The goddamn Hero of the Marines Garp and former Fleet Admiral Sengoku had just walked into his inn and he felt like he might faint. Between four infamous pirates, number two of the revolutionary army, and two legendary marines, it would be a miracle if his inn was still standing by the end of the day.

“Luffy!” Garp roared, stomping forward.

Straw Hat flinched in response, immediately raising his arms in a attempt to block the fist that was coming at his head from above. “Gramps! What are you doing here?”

“Dating a pirate? You brat, you’re a hundred years early to pull something like this!” Garp growled, hitting Straw Hat once more.

“Ouch! Why does it hurt even when I use haki?” Straw Hat whined after taking a step back at the impact, his chair clattering to the floor. “And what do you care who I’m dating?” He went to punch back.

Garp side stepped him, grabbing his arm and stopping it from hitting some of the innocent customers who were scurrying to get out of the inn. “Because it’s a fist of love,” Garp said, as if that explained anything.

The innkeeper really wanted run away like his customers did but he was frozen in place, watching the scuffle happening. This was honestly the most bizzare pirate versus marine fight he had ever witnessed, possibly the most bizzare one anyone had ever witnessed. Neither was trying to beat the other, there was no attempt at capture or escape—if you didn’t count Trafalgar quickly backing away from the screaming duo in the direction of cyborg Franky and Nico Robin, who both looked entirely too entertained. At least Trafalgar’s face said he was about as happy about the turn of events as the innkeeper himself was.

A second later, in a flurry of flames, the revolutionary at the counter jumped forward, standing in between Straw Hat and Garp. “Gramps, wait. You should be beating up him,” he said sharply, pointing at Trafalgar, who was by then lounging in the chair next to Nico Robin, coffee cup he was offered by the woman in hand.

“Leave me out of this,” he called back, raising his free hand in a vaguely threatening motion, the air swirling around under his palm with in devil fruit power.

“Yes, leave him out of this!” Straw Hat snapped, throwing a punch at Sabo instead.

The bartender watched in horror as the punch went through the blond, spitting flames all around and setting a table on fire. At least the man quickly put out the flames but the damage was done and the table charred black.

Garp’s attention turned to the revolutionary then, his hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing until Sabo hissed in pain. “Hello, Mr Revolutionary. Do you care to explain?”

“Why are you so angry, we told you we didn’t want to be marines right from the start!”

“Baa!” The innkeeper’s gaze followed after the sudden sound, dropping from the scene of disaster to his knees where Fleet Admiral Sengoku’s goat was gently chewing on the wash cloth he had hanging from his belt. At least someone in here looked like they couldn’t care less about whatever it was that was happening around them. The innkeeper let go of a long, deep sigh, and stroked the goat’s head.

“Thank you,” he said to the goat earnestly, to which the animal only blinked and continued chewing.

Raising his eyes to look for the goat’s owner, he found the man slowly approaching the remaining three outlaws, dropping in the last available chair at their table—after turning it around to get a better view of the fight at the centre of the room. The three visibly tensed up at their new company, but Sengoku only looked at them blanky before raising the packet in his hand.

“Want a rice cake?”

The pirates stared at him, the cyborg moving forward a little to shield Nico Robin from the old marine.

Sengoku, however, only crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, looking as uncaring as could be. “Relax. I’m retired. I have no obligation to keep up with any new wanted posters so I have no idea who you people are. I’m just here to enjoy the show.”

It was a transparent lie, there was no way the man didn’t know he was sitting at the table with a former Shichibukai and a woman who had been hunted by the world government for twenty-something years, and the innkeeper couldn’t help but stare at the scene before him with an open mouth. Was this seriously, seriously happening? In his inn?

When it became apparent that Sengoku wasn’t a threat to them right then, the strange couple and Trafalgar slowly relaxed and the marine smiled, gesturing with his packet again. Finally, Trafalgar reached forward, grabbing a rice cake and tentatively taking a bite.

Soon, he was followed by Nico Robin who pulled out two, handing one of them to Franky who thanked her with a quick kiss before he took it from her hand. For a moment all four of them simply munched on their rice cakes in silence, watching while Straw Hat, Sabo, and Garp bickered and wrecked the whole goddamn inn while at it.

The entire thing was so ridiculous, so completely absurd, that the innkeeper wanted to cry.

It took them almost an hour after that to finally file out of the inn, leaving behind only absolute mess and destruction. At least Sengoku had assured the innkeeper in passing that the Navy would pay for the damages while he had ordered a tea.

He really hoped the marines wouldn’t complain about it since he would be forced to bill them eight people worth of food on top of all this, as the four pirates didn’t even pay for their own food or drinks.

Pirates, he thought to himself, finally tossing his broom aside and opening a bottle of rum instead.

[softsillytwsted]

Among Us with the First Years

Yall guess who’s late to the party! I played a long session with my friends and it jump-started my writing.

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence.

General

First of all, the number one rule of this game is to keep quiet and stay anonymous until the next meeting, but no one follows this. For one thing, y’all are sitting in a circle while playing this so it’s hard not to talk

Ace also finds it extremely funny to mess with Deuce and Sebek

Then there’s Grim who can’t play and is instead back-seat playing on your lap. He is also honest to a fault so it’s obvious when you two are the imposter

Ace, Deuce and Epel are always down to play, but it takes Jack and Sebek some goading for them to join. Luckily Jack never backs down from a competition and Lilia encourages Sebek to ‘enjoy his youth’

You all usually play a quick game during lunch time or do sleepovers at Ramshackle and play all night long

ANGRY RANTS IN THE GHOST CHATS

The emergency button was pushed. “Speed run on Ace let’s go!”

Ace

Ace uses the red character with the cherry hat

He’s the best at this game hands down

This smooth talker is good at persuading people, especially Deuce, to his side

He can also start a harmless conversation while murdering someone in cold blood like a psychopath

Maybe because he loves playing tricks on people that he’s able to use sabotages to his full advantage

Although Ace is the best at the game, because he’s a little shit he’s on everyone’s hit list and will die if he’s not careful

Surprisingly enough, Deuce isn’t Ace’s favorite person to kill. It’s Sebek. Sebek’s reactions just make everything funnier.

Ace looked at the task bar. “It’s been silent for awhile now. Who’s not done with their tasks yet?”

“I’ve finished,” replied Epel, the pouting ghost.

“Same,” you chirped while Grim huffed in your lap.

“I finished too,” Jack, the ghost, responded as he hovered disapprovingly at the imposter in-game.

“I-I still got a few left...” Deuce muttered.

“I have a few left as well,” Sebek declared. You/Grim, Deuce, Sebek and Ace are the only ones alive. 

“Well, I’m done,” Ace sighed. “Can you two hurry up? It’s getting kinda boring waiting around like this.”

Oxygen tanks have been sabotaged.

“Funny how this happens right after you said that!” Grim accused Ace. “Y/n! Get the top one, the top one! We’re not gonna lose this game!”

“Alright already! Deuce stop panicking and finish up your tasks. Ace or Sebek should do-”

The moment you reached your destination, you watched helplessly as Ace’s cherry red character slashed your character in pieces. Grim hissed in annoyance as you silently stared up at Ace. He winked at you.

“-the bottom one...”

Deuce

Deuce uses the dark blue character with the egg

Ace is the first person he goes after when he’s the imposter

Unironically likes to do the tasks and is the fastest at doing them

He also can’t multi-task. Focusing on his tasks while watching out for corpses and the imposter is impossible for him

Will literally run past a corpse 5 times before finally noticing it

This boy isn’t good under pressure especially when everyone is yelling at him. If the oxygen tanks or reactor is sabotaged, Deuce will bang on every wall before reaching it 

Also can’t come up with a good alibi when accused

Epel pushed the emergency button.

“I believe Deuce is the imposter... when I was passing by I saw him standing still in the hallway and when I came back he was still there.”

“W-what? No no no I wasn’t! I was moving around! I’m not the imposter!” 

“That sounds exactly like what an imposter would say!” Sebek barked.

“Yep, I definitely think Deuce is the imposter,” Ace chuckled. Ace doesn’t really care if Deuce was the imposter or not. The frustrated look on Deuce’s face as he tries to think of a way to clear his name fueled the ginger’s amusement. 

“I don’t know, maybe he was just taking his time looking at his map like the last few games?” You tried to defend Deuce, but only Jack agreed with you.

“Nah let’s kill him.” Ace

“Ya.” Epel

“Ditto.” Grim

“Agreed.” Sebek

“...” Jack

And so Deuce was ejected into space where it was revealed that he in fact was not the imposter. He pouted at his phone, still trying to figure out where to go next. “I told you I’m innocent.”

“Cheer up Deuce! Next time should be better,” you giggled at him. Deuce perked up at your laughter and beamed at you.

“Thanks for believing in me back there. I can count on you next time right?”

“...Deuce did you forget the imposter is chosen at random?”

The imposter was later revealed to be Epel.

Jack

Chose the white character with the ski goggles

The second worst player in the game

Is the person who always enforces others not to group together, but when he sees two people in a room he will hover over the door to make sure one of them won’t kill the other

The boy has a hard time lying and faking doing tasks and everyone exploits this

The quickest games are when he’s the imposter and sometimes it’s over before he can even kill someone

When Jack is innocent: “Jack are you the imposter?” “No”

When Jack isn’t: “Jack are you the imposter?” Ears flat, tail lifeless “...”

This game gives him the worst existential crisis because a part of him wants to play with all his might but the other JUST. CAN’T. LIE.

You found Sebek’s cold body lying in the admin room. All hell breaks loose once you report the body.

“FINALLY SOMEONE FOUND MY BODY! I was getting frustrated when SOMEBODY keeps passing me,” Sebek shouts while looking pointedly at Deuce.

Deuce shamefully looks away.

“Alright let’s start with the usual questions,” you began and turned to Jack. “Jack are you the imposter?”

“...No.”

“Okay Jack’s out-”

“Hold it! We shouldn’t rule out Jack just because he said so!” Ace interrupted you with a scowl on his lips. Jack snarled at the accusation. 

“Are you calling me a liar?” he growled out. Unperturbed at the 192cm wall of muscle who was bristling at him, Ace’s face twisted into a mocking smirk.

Well I ain’t calling you a truther. “That’s the whole point of the game! For all we know, you could’ve finally wizened up and are lying to us now!”

“...Ace has a point,” Deuce held his chin in thoughtful agreement. On the other hand, you and Epel were conflicted. 

“I’d say we vote Ace out,” Grim said with a sly grin on his face. “I saw his character look at us funny.” The little monster still held a grudge against Ace for saying Grim sucked at the game. (”But it’s true! You’re paws can’t even hit the buttons!” “Shut up Ace!”)

“That is suspicious,” simple, easily swayed Deuce agreed. 

“Wait wait wait! How the fuck does that make sense?” Ace retorted. At the same time, Grim began smashing his paws at the screen and managed to vote for Ace. (“Hah! Take that Ace!”)

Deuce cast his vote immediately after, and Jack followed up while sending an amused smirk towards Ace. Epel was red in the face from trying to hold in his laughter from the silliness of it all. Eventually, he managed to vote for Ace.

Ace was ejected into space. Crew mates win.

“Lucky guess,” Ace grumbled under his breath.

Epel

Epel chooses the purple character and uses the straw hat

Has the most wins under his belt and is that one player that never gets killed 

Epel usually plays it safe until someone riles him up and now he’s killing like he’s got something to prove

The master of vent assassinations.

Seriously. Usually when the first body gets reported, it’s been discovered that two other people have been killed already.

Tends to go on cams more than do the tasks

You, Ace and Jack were doing tasks in the electrical room. The lights go off and Epel’s purple character jumps out of a vent to stab you with its tongue. When the lights come back on, Epel is gone. Jack discovers your dead body and reports it immediately.

“It was Ace. I was in the same room with him and Y/n when the lights were off. Then he killed Y/n.”

“Hah? No way why would I do something that obvious?”

“So you admit you’re the imposter?”

Everyone votes Ace out. You discreetly squint at Epel for being so devious, but the lavender-haired boy only smiles sweetly at you in return. You were Epel’s first kill in this round, so after you finished your tasks you spent the rest of the game following him around. 

You quickly realized that nothing was more frightening than Epel, a 156cm ball of fury.

You watched him hide in the medical room’s vent while Jack was being scanned. The minute Deuce, who stuck around to see Jack start the scan, left the room Epel jumped out and murdered Jack in cold blood. You saw Jack flinch as his character died, but he resumed his tasks without a grumble.

With only two people left alive, Epel stalked the halls to look for his last kill. He found both Sebek and Deuce in the cafeteria. One is at the vending machine, and the other is at the garbage disposal. Deuce finished first and spied Epel heading towards Sebek. “Oh Epel, did you finish your ta-” he watched as Epel’s character slashed into Sebek. The game ends soon after.

Thanks to Epel, the kill cool down was extended... again.

Sebek

Chose the lime green character with the horns (”THEY’LL NEVER BE AS MAJESTIC AS WAKA-SAMA’S”)

Living in the Valley of Thorns has him unfamiliar with technology in general so he’s extremely clumsy with the controls.

He also has a hard time navigating the area and is always hitting the walls and missing the doors

Also the slowest at doing tasks 

Speaking of tasks, there was one game where he thought he finished all of them and he ended up giving the imposter enough time to kill everyone (”If the tasks are not all green that means you didn’t finish them!” “WHAT!?”)

Sebek is very mission-oriented and although he considers it beneath him to lie, he will to fulfill his objective

Will go the long way around to try and avoid his shifty friends

Absolutely fun to tease but not the worst at the game to be fair

“Wait so who did you see kill Jack, Deuce? Sebek or Hot Sebek?” you asked the teal-eyed teen. 

“For the last time STOP USING MY NAME!”

“Quiet normal Sebek,” you shushed him. “Let Deuce talk.”

“It was the hot one... H-hot Sebek.” Poor Deuce tried so hard to contain his laughter as he spoke. Ace was already rolling on the floor and Epel was stifling a chuckle with his hand.

Sebek was fuming but stayed quiet while everyone else voted. Soon Hot Sebek AKA Ace gets ejected into space and the crew members win.

“We’re starting a new session and this time no one else will use my name. GOT IT?”

“Sounds good,” Jack said as he glowered at Ace. “I don’t understand why you would want to hide your identity. We should all face each other with everything bared - fair and square!”

“That is exactly right, Jack! Cowardly tactics should be frowned upon!”

Ace deadpanned, “Did you guys forget that’s the whole point of the game?”

[platypanthewriter]

Rollerskates

For the Harringrove April prompt month!  What if someone else encountered the mindflayer...I don’t know what this is, have some silly horror I guess

Hawkins was the worst.  Billy knew this--he’d known from the time they drove through the two-street town, he’d guessed when his dad praised the damn place and its down home American values--but he’d never guessed some sludgemonster would try to drag him into the ironworks, and he’d definitely never guessed whatever the fuck it was, it would send spies.

He glowered over from his lifeguard station at the row of rats outside the chainlink fence of the pool.  They were brave, knowing, somehow, that he couldn’t take his eyes off the pool for more than a few seconds to hose them down.  Billy glared back at them every few seconds--these huge rats, lined up like bowling pins, staring.  He’d started carrying a notebook to jot things down, not because he thought a goddamned soul would believe him, but to check that at least if he was hallucinating, it was consistent.

A kid hollered, splashing, and he yanked his gaze back to the pool.  

Sometimes they switched, he was fairly sure, watching them with binoculars.  There was a light grey one that hadn’t been there before, and a really fat one he was sure he’d have remembered.  He counted them, and made a note.  They were spying on him in shifts, because it was goddamn Hawkins, and the rats--and the steelworks, apparently--were possessed.

He was vaguely tempted to go back, or ask around town if the old factory was haunted, but every time he thought about it, he broke out in a cold sweat.

Every time he left the pool--every time he went anywhere--he could hear the soft squeaks of the mice, and the dragging sound of their piper.  She looked younger than Max, with overalls and rattling dark braids, but she swooped around on her rollerskates, playing her recorder, and the rats obeyed her.

Billy’d tried chasing her, once, but he could hardly catch up to rollerskates, and she skated backwards away, staring him in the eye.  He chased her two blocks, then rolled after her in his car, as she looped through driveways and through garages, an endless maze of shortcuts where he couldn’t follow, and he finally realized she was leading him back to the Steelworks.  He spun the wheel, leaving skid marks on the road as he sped back home, and laid awake, with his pillow over his head, listening to the rats in the walls.

After a week of the dragging sound of rollerskates in the street outside at night, the sounds of the off-key recorder warbling over the fence at the pool, and the gnawing rats in the walls, he tried cornering Max.  She just squinted at him, blinking slowly with huge dark circles under her eyes, and suggested blearily that he stop leaving food in his room.

“They’re not normal rats,” he hissed at her, and she stopped, glared at him, and then shook her head and walked off.  

 It wasn’t just Billy, either.  The front page of the Sunday paper--read in Neil Hargrove’s voice, because he wasn’t letting anybody else read it, even though he was taking forever settling himself--was about a guy running around Main Street with a shotgun, screaming about rats and rollerskates.  He’d finally tried to shoot the cops trying to get him to drop the gun, and been hit by a car, and when it revealed he was already under investigation for burning crosses in a local family’s yard, even Neil hissed.  His autopsy revealed his toes and fingers had been gnawed on by rats.

“What a nice town,” Max said dryly.  

There was an interview on TV with a guy’s wife--she’d called the police because her husband had stormed out in the middle of the night, screaming about rats.  She had bruises all up the left side of her face, and something deep in Billy shivered as he wondered about the darkness around her wrists, whether her husband had left bruises there too.  She flinched away from the reporter every time he moved, and he lowered his voice, grimacing.  

“We’d been fighting,” she whispered, and Susan put her hands over her mouth, glancing at Billy.  “We kept hearing rollerskates,” said the woman on he news, crying.  “I-I hope he didn’t hurt that little girl.”

Neil Hargrove stared out the window for hours that night, between glaring at Billy, and putting out poison for the rats.  

 Billy went to get in his car that night, and there were rats, rats on his seats and dashboard, and he yelled, slammed the door, and walked out to where there were people, stalking as fast as he could down the street.  He realized he was walking away from home, but he didn’t want to stop, so he just headed wherever he saw a group of people.  He elbowed his way into a crowd of people loitering around the drug store, and came face to face with Steve Harrington and his loud, curly-haired shadow.  

They stared at him, their mouths sucked in on soda straws, but Billy was on his last nerve.  “You fucking grew up here,” he hissed, stepping closer, “--right?  What the fuck, Harrington.  What the shit is with these goddamn rats?!  Why do they want me to go to the Steelworks--who the goddamn is the shitbird on roller skates—”

Harrington just blinked his big stupid cow eyes and frowned, but his sidekick said “Wait, what?  The Steelworks?”

“The fucking Steelworks,” Billy repeated, his eyes flicking between them as they exchanged an obvious glance.  

“That makes sense,” the kid said, digging out a map, and Billy growled.

“What fucking makes sense,” he asked, through his teeth, as Harrington leaned in to see the map, slurping his soda.  

“Lot of sightings around there,” the kid said, glaring up at Billy.  

“Sightings of what,” Billy hissed, and Harrington shot him a glower.

They didn’t really answer, but they let him follow them to a payphone, and Harrington called the sheriff.

“You can’t call the police on rats,” Billy bit out, feeling like a moron, kind of, for not trying it himself.  

“Shut your face,” Harrington told him, and then proceeded to ask for the sheriff himself, and Billy couldn’t help himself, craning over Steve’s shoulder.  

“My car’s full of rats, my walls’re full of rats, I never stop hearing the roller skates—” he yelled at the phone, and Harrington elbowed him off.

“Maybe you shouldn’t’ve been such a shithead to Lucas Sinclair,” the kid said, sounding pleased.

“Fuck you,” Billy spat back, pretending his voice hadn’t cracked.  “Who the fuck even is Lucas Sinclair?!”

“Sir,” Harrington said.  “Uh, Hopper.  Billy Hargrove thinks it’s out at the Steelworks.  Yeah.  Oh, um.”  He turned to frown at Billy.  “Are you sure you don’t need--we can help, we’ve—” he sighed.  “...I guess we can keep an eye on him.”

“I mean, do we need to?” the kid asked.  “The rats can have him, far as I’m—”

“We’ll make sure nothing happens to him,” Harrington gritted out.  “As long as he lets us.”

Billy snarled at him, but he let them bundle him into Harrington’s car, and curled up on Harrington’s couch, while Harrington himself stalked around his house shooting the occasional glare in Billy’s direction.  

“...was Lucas Sinclair the kid...that night,” Billy asked hoarsely.  “Max’s friend.”

“Yeah,” Harrington said, sarcastically.  “Nice how it only goes after the shittiest people, right?”

“Fuck,” Billy whispered, swallowing.  “Fuck.”

 After a while, Harrington sank down on the couch next to him, and Billy flinched, then tried to pretend he hadn’t, growling.  “They’ll take care of it tonight,” Steve told him, sighing.  “With flamethrowers.”

“Holy shit,” Billy said, staring at him.  

 It was true--Billy woke up the next morning on Harrington’s couch, thanked him awkwardly, and went home to find his father had left during the night, chasing a girl on roller skates.  

He didn’t return.

But, as Harrington had said, there were no more rats.  Billy still saw the girl, occasionally, her glare pointed, but she didn’t come near.  He considered trying to apologize to Lucas Sinclair, and finally asked Max, reluctantly, whether she thought the kid would even want to hear it.

“What,” she said, flatly.

“Maybe I should just stay away,” Billy muttered, as they maneuvered around each other, doing the dishes.  Billy couldn’t quite get over the thought that everybody had acted like the three people taken hadn’t deserved to live, and the rats had not been outside Billy’s house for his father.  Neil had deserved better, Billy couldn’t help thinking--he’d been right about Billy, after all--but on the other hand, he’d definitely charged out trying to murder a little girl on roller skates with his bare hands, so Billy felt a little bit vindicated, after all the things he’d muttered about his dad.

When he saw the little girl again, he yelled out, “D’you think your brother would want me to say sorry?!”, and she skated to a stop, turning to glare at him.

“Would you mean it?” she hollered back, her hands cupped, and Billy nodded.

“I’ll tell him,” she shouted back, and skated off.  

Max started bringing Lucas around, after that, and Billy always got them whatever takeout they wanted, and stayed the hell away.  Lucas nodded to him, after a while, and Billy’s spine loosened.

 Billy nodded to Harrington, too, when he saw him, and after a while, Harrington started nodding back, until Billy let the uneasy squirm in his guts every time they met eyes guilt him into saying, “Sorry.”

“What,” said Harrington, looking weirded out.  The mall was barely open, and he glanced around, like he might need backup.

“Sorry for that night,” Billy said.  “And--and for...helping me.  Sorry I ended up your problem.”

Harrington just stared back at him.  He laughed, though, when he found Billy in his driveway, grimly cleaning rat shit out of every surface of his Camaro.  

 The little girl just made him buy her ice cream, which he was fine with--she’d hop in his car, and they’d drive over to buy ice cream from Steve Harrington.

“I wasn’t possessed, god,” she groaned.  “I was doing God’s work.”

“It promised you ice cream, didn’t it,” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows, and she sighed.

“I was possessed by capitalism,” she sighed dramatically.

After Steve got off work, he climbed in Billy’s car, and they’d drive out to the quarry and talk.  Billy watched him the way he had at first--stupid Steve Harrington, with his stupid hair, and his stupid fucking smile--until he’d realize Harrington was talking again, and Billy was missing it, again.

“The hell d’you keep staring at,” Steve asked, laughing, and Billy groaned, rubbing his face, but Harrington didn’t seem pissed, so Billy just kept running up whenever he saw him, and Harrington started putting an arm aorund his shoulders.  The like, sixteenth time Billy almost forgot himself and kissed him, watching Steve’s lips from inches away, Steve smiled, a little crookedly, and pulled him back as he stepped away.  They stared at each other, and then Billy scrambled away, swearing and kicking at rocks.

Billy had his first gay kiss in the ice cream shop, with the scary little rollerskater wolf-whistling, and Harrington’s chocolate-sticky fingers in his hair.  It tasted like waffle cones.

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

[ezzydean]

a place in the sun

this is for catt and cal and the shenanigans we get up to in the chat

2600 words

click here to read on my tumblr and not in the dash

Tobio’s eyes cross as he tries to focus on the object dangling in front of his face.  He leans away from it and presses the back of his head against a warm stomach.

“Hello Iwaizumi,” he says.  The object doesn’t get any clearer as Iwaizumi shakes it in front of Tobio’s face but he opens his hand for it anyway.  A cool box of milk is pressed against his palm and he tilts his head up with a smile.  “Oh.  Thank you.”

Iwaizumi grins at him and ruffles his hair before heading back across the gym to where Oikawa and the others are making gross noises and weird faces.  Tobio sticks the straw in the milk and sips at it with a small smile on his face.  He can just barely make out Oikawa’s voice over the noise in the gym and he tilts his head as he concentrates.

“I just don’t get why you buy him shit all the time.  It’s not like he needs you to.  He’s probably got more money than you and Makki combined.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes.  But he could.  Because Oikawa is a dummy and sometimes Tobio wonders just what he had seen in him when he was younger.

(When he’s sitting on the bench an hour later watching Oikawa knock over bottle after bottle after bottle with a look of pure concentration on his face he remembers.  He remembers being starry eyed and filled with wonder at anything that connected him to volleyball, even if it barely gave him the time of day.)

Matsukawa had teased him once, a long time ago, about Iwaizumi buying him things.  Well it was more about Iwaizumi buying Tobio things when he would refuse to buy things for the rest of them or something like that.  Tobio hadn’t always paid a lot of attention to Matsukawa when he was younger.  Or Hanamaki.  Those two were always saying things.  So many things.  Clever things.  Silly things.  Dumb things.  Things they though he couldn’t understand.  Jokes they thought he wouldn’t understand.

He may have been focused on volleyball to the point of obsession — so there Tsukishima, he does listen to the babble that comes out of your mouth during camp sometimes thank you very much — back in high school but that didn’t mean he was totally dense.

Sure sometimes he was kind of dumb about things.  But he wasn’t completely oblivious.

The thing was… Iwaizumi liked buying him things.  He liked letting Iwaizumi buy him things.  It was pretty simple, actually.  At least for them.  It was everyone else who seemed determined to make it more than that.  Especially Oikawa.

The plastic bottle pings into the far wall as Oikawa’s serve nails it.  He wonders which one has clean up duty tonight: Matsukawa or Hanamaki.  Or maybe they suckered one of the kids from the camp into it.  They were good at that.  Being all smiley and convincing.

Iwaizumi steps into the gym and meets Tobio’s eyes, nodding towards the door with a smile.

“Five minutes,” Iwaizumi says as Tobio passes him.  “And then I’ll be out whether or not he is.”

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later Iwaizumi drags Oikawa out by his collar, chewing him out before depositing him on the steps next to Tobio so he can go back and lock the door.  Apparently no one is cleaning up the bottles.  Or maybe he made Oikawa do it before they came out.  Tobio would ask but he doesn’t really care that much to be honest.

“Let’s go,” Iwaizumi barks out.  Oikawa hops to his feet and starts down the street immediately.  Tobio holds his hand out and Iwaizumi grabs it, pulling Tobio to his feet and tugging him down the street after Oikawa.  “Just because you get there first doesn’t mean I’m paying for your junk Oikawa!”

Iwaizumi only lets go of his hand so he can punch Matsukawa in the shoulder and then pull Hanamaki down into a headlock.  Tobio shakes his head at the grumpy look on Kyoutani’s face as Iwaizumi and Hanamaki stumble in through the doorway.

Tobio doesn’t want anything.  Not really.  But Iwaizumi catches him looking at a meat bun for just a few seconds too long and it’s paid for and in Tobio’s hand before he can even register it.  He sits down on the curb outside the shop and before long a warm body is next to him.

Matsukawa bumps shoulders with him and laughs.

“Congratulations on your sugar daddy,” he says.

Tobio glances over his shoulder into the shop and then peers up at Matsukawa with wide eyes.  “But Oikawa is the one buying sweet things,” he says innocently.

Matsukawa just laughs.  It’s comfortable.  This old joke between them.  This moment outside the shop.  This bubble of time and space and friendship.

Hanamaki and Oikawa come out of the shop shoving and talking over each other, arguing about buying milk bread and whose turn it was to pay and whatever else they’re arguing about today and the moment is broken between him and Matsukawa.  But that’s okay.  Because Iwaizumi nudges Tobio’s shoulder with his knee and pulls him to his feet and they all head down the street, laughing and carrying on.

—

He can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on him and rolls his head along the arm of his couch just enough to look at Kyoutani and hum questioningly.

“I don’t get it.”  Is all Kyoutani says.

“You don’t need to.”  Is all Tobio replies.

Iwaizumi lets himself into Tobio’s apartment and tosses him a bag on his way to the kitchen.  There’s two books he’s been wanting to read but hadn’t been able to find inside the bag and he might make an excited noise or two when he pulls them out.  Maybe even three noises judging by the groan Kyoutani lets out.  Kyoutani rolls his eyes when Tobio looks at him.

Iwaizumi comes back and hands Tobio a bottle of water.  “Thought you might be thirsty,” he says.

“I’m thirsty,” Kyoutani grumbles.

“You know where the fridge is,” Iwaizumi replies.

Tobio smiles at Kyoutani.  Kyoutani scowls at him.

It’s a victory, he knows.  Because it could easily be Kyoutani that Iwaizumi buys things for and smiles at and all that.  But it’s not.  It’s Tobio.

Iwaizumi moves Tobio’s feet so he can sit on the couch and then settles Tobio’s feet in his lap.

It could be dozens of other people that Iwaizumi does this with.

But it isn’t.

Kyoutani falls asleep in the chair, curled up in a way that makes Tobio ache to look at, and Iwaizumi rubs his thumb against the bare skin of Tobio’s ankle.  Tobio’s skin buzzes with the sensation but he doesn’t pull away.  Iwaizumi gives him so much, after all, the least he can do is give him this moment in the quiet of Tobio’s living room.

—

Matsukawa sits on Tobio’s left.

Oikawa sits on Tobio’s right.

Tobio stares straight ahead.  Today had been going so well.

“I have a very important question to ask you,” Oikawa says.

He had woken up to his favorite breakfast waiting for him.  He had spent an hour arguing with Kindaichi and Kunimi over where to go for supper.  He had gotten to pet two dogs on his way here.

It had all been going so, so well.

“And I insist you answer me honestly.”  He wonders if Oikawa knows he talks like some prim and proper stick up the butt douche when he’s trying to be serious.  Or if it’s just an unexpected side effect of rarely being serious and his body not knowing how to handle it.  “Or I will be sorely disappointed in you.”  Should he ask Oikawa?  Does it really matter right now?

He glances at Matsukawa who shrugs.  “I’m just here cause Oikawa said he needed a witness.”

“Well this is important Mattsun.”

“Of course it is.”

If he stays quiet maybe they’ll bicker enough that Oikawa will forget what he came here for.  Or maybe someone will call Oikawa and distract him.  Maybe aliens will swoop in and finally take Oikawa away.  That one would be nice.  It would both fulfill Oikawa’s dreams of aliens being real and it would get him to drop whatever topic he’s on; if Oikawa ever got abducted Tobio knows he wouldn’t shut up about it for months.  Every other topic would be boring in comparison.

Tobio has never wanted to be considered boring more than he does right now.  Because boring would mean peace and quiet and maybe he could go play volleyball.  He’s pretty sure someone from the neighborhood association would be free.

“Are you listening Tobio-chan?”

“I’m trying not to,” he says honestly.

Oikawa gasps.  “Rude.”

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.  Anyway.  You need to answer my question okay?”

“Okay.”  Has the grass always been this green in the park?  What kind of flowers are growing in the planters by the benches.  Maybe he should get into gardening.

“What are your intentions with Iwa-chan?”

Tobio turns his head slowly, very slowly, and looks at Matsukawa.  Matsukawa just shrugs again and Tobio almost wishes Kyoutani was here.  At least Kyoutani makes sense.  Kyoutani understands things.  Oh maybe Watari could be here.  He’s good at breaking dramatic tension.

Tobio… isn’t.

“Well?  Why is he always buying you snacks and stuff?”

Oh.  He has an answer for that one.  “Iwaizumi is my sugar daddy.”

Oikawa makes a noise that Tobio can’t even classify and Matsukawa starts choking on, well, something.  Air.  Spit.  His own tongue maybe.  Tobio looks at him in concern but Matsukawa waves him away and points at Oikawa.  The face Oikawa is making is disturbing.  Really disturbing.  Like someone pulled all the wires in his brain out and connected them all wrong when they tried to fix it.

“Do.”  Oikawa blinks rapidly, brain coming back online.  Sort of.  “Do you.”  Oikawa licks his lips.  “Do you even know what a sugar daddy is?”

“Yes.”  Tobio meets Oikawa’s stare and doesn’t even blink.  “Do you need me to explain it to you?”  He doesn’t think it’s a tricky idea.  But he’s never been all that great at knowing what is or isn’t hard to know for other people.  Maybe it’s tricker than he thought.  Oikawa is still looking at him like he has no idea what Tobio is saying.  “You see.  He gives me things I like and I do things he likes in return.”

“What,” Oikawa whispers harshly, “the fuck?”

“Oikawa we’re in a park,” Matsukawa chastises.  Oikawa reaches past Tobio to flap his hand in Matsukawa’s face.

Oikawa narrows his eyes.  “What kind of things do you do for Iwaizumi?”

“Stuff I know he likes.  I mean he gives me all sorts of stuff.  Letting him touch me a lot is the least I can do.”

“I’m not sure this is a conversation for the park,” Matsukawa notes.

“Touch you?”  Oikawa sounds like he’s going through puberty again with his voice cracking all funny like that.  Tobio keeps the thought to himself.  Experiencing Oikawa going through puberty once was bad enough.  He doesn’t want to risk Oikawa going through it again just to irritate him.  “Like how?”

Tobio scrunches his face in confusion.  “With his hands.”

Oikawa starts taking really deep breaths like Tobio is getting on his nerves which is silly because Oikawa is the one asking dumb questions like a dumb dumb.  How did he think Iwaizumi touched him?  With a stick?

“Okay let me ask this a different way.”  Tobio nods.  He’d really like to make sense of this conversation.  Or leave.  But he’s pretty sure if he tried to leave Oikawa would tackle him and make him continue the conversation anyway.  So he stays seated and props his chin in his hand and stares at Oikawa.  “Do you have sex with Iwaizumi?”

Tobio blinks.

That was not what he thought Oikawa was going to say and judging by the way Matsukawa is once again choking on whatever he’s choking on it wasn’t what Matsukawa expected either.

“What?”

“Do you.  Have sex.  With Iwaizumi?”

Tobio blinks some more and absently reaches over to smack Matsukawa on the back.  He’s really concerned for him, he swears, he just can’t quite tear his gaze away from Oikawa.  If he does Oikawa might attack or something.  Like a wild animal.  He needs to maintain eye contact to assert his dominance.  Or to not show fear.  Or something.  It was in the documentary he and Iwaizumi watched last week.

“Neither of us are having sex with you so I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“He is my best friend!  I need to make sure you’re not taking advantage of him.”

“By letting him buy and give me things that he wants to buy and give me?”

“And having sex with him.”

He finally turns away so he can stare at Matsukawa and beg him with his facial expressions to make this make sense.  Even just a tiny itty bitty bit of sense.  Because this?  This entire conversation?  Zero sense to Tobio.  Matsukawa can’t help, unfortunately, because he is currently curled up in a ball on the ground laughing so hard he kind of sounds like he’s still choking.

“I need to go.  Somewhere that’s not… here.”  Tobio stands and walks away.  He ignores Matsukawa crying on the ground and Oikawa yelling after him about needing answers.

—

Had he realized that taking the bag of cream puffs that Hanamaki handed him was going to cause this much stupid to happen he probably wouldn’t have done it.

Then again they are really good cream puffs so he might have done it anyway.

Iwaizumi is sitting on his couch glaring at Hanamaki.  He’s been this way for the last half an hour and even Tobio sitting on his lap and letting Iwaizumi hug him hadn’t helped any.  Neither had the fact that Tobio had shared the cream puffs with Watari who is sitting next to them on the couch and doing a shitty job of pretending not to watch in fascination as Iwaizumi practically growls at Hanamaki.

The thing was that Tobio had somehow forgotten, for a split-second, that Iwaizumi was a territorial bastard who could and would turn damn near feral when his territory was threatened and, for all intents and purposes, Tobio was Iwaizumi’s territory.  Iwaizumi was the one who bought things for Tobio.  That was his thing.  No one else bought things for Tobio.  Hell most of the time Tobio didn’t even bother buying himself anything anymore.

He reaches up and runs his hand through Iwaizumi’s hair.  Iwaizumi huffs and hugs him tighter.

“Yeah yeah I get it,” Hanamaki says lazily.  “Stop frowning at me please.”

(It’s nearly four days before Hanamaki can fully meet Iwaizumi’s eyes and it should probably be weird and immature and stuff but, somehow, it’s not.)

—

Tobio stretches and then curls against Iwaizumi with a content hum.  His new blanket is warm and fuzzy and the perfect color and Iwaizumi really does spoil him so much.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“For what?” Iwaizumi whispers back, fingers tracing patterns on Tobio’s arm.

Tobio shifts so he can lean over Iwaizumi.  Iwaizumi drags his fingers up Tobio’s arm and shoulder until he can tangle his fingers in Tobio’s hair.

“For everything but mostly for giving me the best thing ever.”

Iwaizumi goes so still that for a moment Tobio thinks he’s stretched out in bed over a marble statue.  A statue with warm fingers and eyes that sparkle like a clear night sky but a statue nonetheless.  Then Iwaizumi shudders and Tobio can suddenly breath; he hadn’t even realized he had stopped.

“Oh?”  Iwaizumi smiles softly at him.  “And what was that?  What’s the best thing ever according to Kageyama Tobio?”

Tobio’s eyes can’t quite decide where to settle, flickering from Iwaizumi’s eyes to his nose then his lips and cheeks and chin and chest and shoulders and hair and lips and cheeks and Tobio closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

His eyes flutter open and he meets Iwaizumi’s gaze.

“You gave me you.”

[bumblebee-moreno]

Thunder

Part 6 (and final chapter) of the Weather Series!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

Summary: You and the child pay a harmless visit to a nearby town. Din doesn’t have the same opinion.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral! reader

Word Count: 1522

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: this chapter inspired by a request from anon: “Hey, i was wondering if you would like to write a fic about reader and the child going to the town of any planet, and din comeback to the ship after catching a bounty, and he gets worry, because he told (y/n) that she had to stay in the ship. I need angst and soft mando stuff”

Pedro Pascal requests are open! Get added to my taglists!

“I’ll be back soon,” Din says to you, securing his blaster at his hip. “Promise you’ll stay right here?” Din looks up at you. You nod. “I need to hear you say it, you won’t leave the ship?”

“I won’t leave the ship.” You nod again. Din’s head tilts slightly, pressing you for more. “I promise.”

With a slight nod of his head, Din turns on his heel, leaving you alone on the ship while he works.

_____________________

You’re bored. The child is bored. And when the child is bored, all hell breaks loose. “No, hey!” you call after him, catching objects out of the air while he runs around, giggling hysterically.

You’re about to tear out all your hair. Why is it that he always gets these bursts of energy when Din isn’t around to help?

You suddenly have an idea. Town isn’t that far away. There’s enough distractions there to keep him busy until Din gets back. You just have to make sure you’re not gone too long. “Hey,” You call again. “How about an adventure?”

The child perks up at this, waddling over to you. With a relieved sigh, you scoop him up and head for town. Din will probably be gone for hours, you decide. A little bit of exploration won’t hurt anything. Especially on such a peaceful planet.

‘Just a little while,’ you tell yourself. The town is so cheerful when you get there, with a renewed energy after last night’s thunderstorm, all concept of time is washed away.

You stop at every vendor that looks friendly, and making sure you’re keeping an eye on the child, you take this opportunity to talk anyone’s ear off who will listen to you. You’ve been isolated for months, your only company the child and Din. You can’t help yourself. You need some socializing.

You’re not watching the time. But it’s okay. You’re not in any danger. Right?

_____________________

Din returns to the Razor Crest, the bounty following behind, dragging his feet. Din listens for you as he enters when he doesn’t see you right away. When he’s met with silence, he assumes you’ve laid the child down for a nap and want to keep quiet.

“So um…” the bounty speaks up. “Where do I sit?” Din doesn’t respond, typing into a control panel. “Do I just find somewhere, or…” The bounty continues when he isn’t answered.

Din finally grabs his arm, roughly pulling him. Realising what’s happening, the bounty struggles against Din’s grip. With one swift motion, Din freezes him in carbonite.

After letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, Din scrambles up to the cockpit, a smile spreading on his face in anticipation of hearing all about your day. And for sharing his. Today was the day, he decided, that he’d finally let himself share for the sake of sharing—just like you always do.

You’re not in the cockpit. Okay, maybe you’re taking a nap. Din climbs down to your cot. Empty.

“Y/N?” Din calls out, his voice echoing across the abandoned ship. He checks his cot. Maybe you fell asleep in there? Not that you ever have. But where else would you be? It’s really not that big of a ship.

“Y/N?” Din calls again. And again. He searches the whole ship, calling out for you and the child.

Din finally collapses against a wall. “Shit,” he mutters.

What if something happened to you? Tears blur Din’s vision. What is he talking about, of course something happened to you. You wouldn’t just wander off. Not after you promised…

A loud sob escapes Din’s throat. It’s probably too late now. You’re probably… and the kid…

Oh god.

How could he be so stupid as to leave you here alone?

“Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit—” Din paces back and forth. “Shitshitshitshit—FUCK!” he finally yells, kicking the wall. He can’t lose you. He can’t lose the kid.

What is he supposed to do?

Town isn’t that far of a walk. Din decides to sweep the town for any sign of you. It seems silly, why would someone trying to hurt you take you to a busy town? But it’s the only hope he’s got. He can’t lose you.

_____________________

You’re sitting on the ground next to the child. The pair of you are helping a group of locals weave baskets, though yours don’t look nearly as nice as theirs.

From across the crowd, Din spots you, laughing at the child’s attempts at weaving faster than his basket falls apart. He doesn’t waste time, though. Din tears through the crowd, never once letting you drop from his sight, afraid that if he blinks, you might disappear.

He yanks you by the arm to stand in front of him. You startle, dropping your basket. Or, more accurately, mess of straw.

It takes you a moment to realize who is standing in front of you. “Hey,” You smile at the Mandalorian.

“Time to go.” Din replies simply, barely holding in tears of relief. You’re okay. You’re alive. You’re all right.

Reluctant to lose your new friends, you scoop up the child and follow a silent Din back to the ship.

Din doesn’t speak while you set the child up at the table with some markers and a pad of paper. You don’t speak either. Din seems angry with you. You wonder what you did wrong. He seemed fine before he left.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Din explodes, causing you to jump back. You’ve never heard Din yell like that. The only time he ever raises his voice is to be heard over a crowd or a long distance. Never to be angry.

“I…” You try to answer. “…What?” You search your brain for any idea of what you did wrong.

“The hell do you mean ‘what’? You said you’d stay here!” Din yells again.

“Oh, Din,” You suddenly remember your promise.

“You promised you’d be here the whole time, and the first thing you did when I left was go to town, to-to-to, what? Weave baskets? Fucking baskets, Y/N? Really?” Din’s voice thunders in the small ship.

“It’s not that big of a deal—” You try to defend yourself.

“It is a big deal! What the hell was I supposed to think when I got back and you weren’t here?” Din’s tone scares you more than last night’s storm. And nothing scares you more than thunder and lightning.

“Um, that I stepped outside for some fresh air because this damn ship is so stuffy? That I went out to socialise because neither you or the kid is exactly good at holding conversation?” Your lower lip begins to quiver. “Din, you’re overreacting.” You bite your lip to stop from crying. You’re not going to be that person that wins arguments by making the other person feel guilty.

“How the hell am I overreacting? I thought I lost you!”

“And what does that matter to you?” tears are welling up in your vision. Little do you know, they’re already streaming down Din’s cheeks. “I’m just the fucking babysitter! Not that fucking hard to replace!” You hate hearing yourself say it. But it’s true. That’s all you are to him. All you’ll ever be.

“You’re not just the babysitter!”

“The hell does that mean?” What else would you be?

“You’re the only fucking company I get! No one else wants to…” Din takes a shaky breath before continuing yelling, “No one actually makes me feel wanted! I don’t want anyone else, I want you.”

“Why?” Surely you’re not the only one in the galaxy who would put up with Din. “Why me and no one else?”

“Because I love you! Okay?” Din confesses, his angry tone mismatching his declaration. “I fucking love you and I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks but no matter how hard I try, I just. Can’t.” Din’s voice cracks at the last word and he stops yelling so much. “And I-I-I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, and I’m so fucking scared to lose you because I’m in love with you and I’m afraid I won’t ever feel like this again for anyone else! I want you because for once in my life, I’m happy. And it’s because of you.” Din can’t hold back sobs anymore. The sounds of his choked cries cause tears to begin to slip down your face as well. “You’re my whole universe, Y/N. You’re the first thing I see every morning, and my last thought every night. I love you so much. I love your smile, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh. I love how you get so excited over the most stupid things just because you can and-and-and—”

Din collapses into your arms, completely breaking down. You gently guide him to the floor, cradling him in your arms. “I can’t lose you, Y/N,” Din sobs, pressing his helmet further into your neck.

Your heart aches as you rock him back and forth, rubbing circles into his back with your palm. And you finally mutter a response.

“I love you too, Din.”

@keep-hauntingme​ @peggers-n-beggers​ @mandoandyodito​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @h0n3ypi3​ @captainskyline​ @kass-daily​ @astrolo-galaxy​ @and-i-swear-we-are-infinite​ @sweet-n-sour-chicken​ @vikingqueen28​ @spookyold-saintjm​ @breashlyn2000​  @trashbin2​ 

[novannna]

You Were the Hands That Held Me

Danissa soulmate au.  everyone has a soul mate, and any marking that appears on their skin, appears on yours.  narcissa’s pov.  Kinda angsty, but also fluffy.  

tw: self harm, and mentions of abuse kinda

wc: 2363

Narcissa stared at her arm in awe.  This was the first time her soulmate had ever drawn something on her skin.  She had felt the same cuts and bruises her soulmate had received, just like everyone else, but this was the first time her soulmate had deliberately marked her own skin.

Messy butterflies with uneven wings, and twisted antennas marched down Narcissa’s forearm.  

“Oh,” she whispered.  “Cool.”  She grabbed the nearest marked, and held it poised above the other arm, ready to reply, but thought better of it.  

She shouldn’t force her soulmate to stop their art for Narcissa.  She dropped the marker, and kept watching the thick lines as they covered her entire arm.  

That night she washed it all away in scalding hot water before her grandfather noticed.  He wouldn’t approve of Narcissa communicating with her soulmate.  

He hated the idea of How there was one person in the world, waiting just for you.  

His soulmate had died years ago, leaving him heartbroken and angry, bitter to the world.   

If Narcissa wasn’t careful, he might take the anger out on her.    

Narcissa could take it, but she didn’t want to hurt her soulmate too.  Narcissa would feel awful.  

So she tried to ignore the small flowers and butterflies her soulmate drew constantly.  Narcissa tried her very best.  

---

Years later, Narcissa wrote to her soulmate for the first time.  It was in the middle of the night, when Narcissa had felt a searing pain across her arm that looked like a red slit across her pale skin.  

Her soulmate was in trouble.  She couldn’t just stand by now. Narcissa had to do something.  

Grabbing a tissue to staunch the bleeding, Narcissa scrawled across her hand in thick ink. 

STOP

I can’t , her soulmate replied. 

Please, just hear me out, Narcissa wrote, hoping she could do enough.  Hoping she could convince the person who had drawn butterflies everywhere on their body, that maybe the world really did want them. 

please, just stay out of this

I can’t. This is my body too.  And even though I’ve never met you, you're my soulmate and I care about you. 

Fine. I’ll listen. Her soulmate's handwriting was a little shaky, but very neat, with tall, loopy letters.  

I’m guessing you’ve been having a hard time with life recently, Narcissa started. 

I guess

Do you want to be here?  Narcissa asked bluntly

There was a long pause.  I don’t know, her soulmate finally responded.  I love Earth, but the people…. I can’t stand the people. All they do is bring hate and hurt to me

I get that.  But the people don’t matter. You do.  Danna wrote desperately. 

No I don’t. I’ve never done a single good thing in my life

You have!  You’ve made me smile!  You’ve made me laugh!  

Her soulmate replied, When?  This is the first time I’ve ever talked to you

When we were younger, you used to constantly doodle little flowers and butterflies all across our bodies. I loved to watch you draw them, watch the blocky little lines appear across my body.   Danna smiled as she recalled the delicate insects she wore across her body daily. 

I thought you hated those. That’s why I stopped

No, of course not!

Then why did you erase them?

Narcissa sighed. She thought for a second, then wrote, my grandfather. He hates soulmates. If he knew I was communicating with mine, I’m afraid he would hurt me.  And doing that would hurt you. 

But… that means you could get in trouble right now!

No. I won’t, I’m fine. You are more important.  Tell me, what made you want to hurt yourself today?

I guess I’m just tired of being ignored. I’m tired of being treated like a child. I want to leave my house, but I can’t. I can’t live on my own. 

Thats okay, you shouldn’t be ignored.  You should be your own person, and if your parents cant see that, they’re idiots!!

Narcissa capped the pen, and tried to wrap her blanket around her arm, the blood slowly soaked through the fabric, staining the blanket a bright red.  How would she explain that to her grandfather?  It didn’t matter right now though.  Right now, she had to make sure her soulmate was okay.  That was her one and only goal.  Nothing else mattered.  Narcissa had the opportunity to maybe save a life right now.  That’s what she had to do.  

They aren’t.  I’m the one who’s screwing up, her soulmate replied.  I cant ever get anything right.  Im just a big mistake that shouldn't even exist.  The worlds probably better without me

THATS NOT FUCKING TRUE!  Narcissa scrawled as quickly as she could.  I dont believe it.  Not for a second.  Just by being here, you’ve made the world a better place.  Everyday, I wake up and check my body for some indicator that you’re here.  I can’t help but think about the fact that there is someone out there meant for me.  And I’m meant for someone.  

I guess…

Narcissa sighed heavily.  She had to go to bed before her grandfather woke and saw her light on.  

Are you okay?  She wrote.  Are you in any danger?  If you are, im here.  For both of us

A minute passed before the reply came.  I dont think so.  I think im better.  But… if i feel bad again, can i talk to u?  This actually really helped me.  Thank you

Narcissa smiled.  Of course!!!  Just, could u write somewhere less obvious?

Sure.  I understand.

Narcissa smiled gratefully.  How ‘bout our ankles?  That’s less obvious and easy for me to hide

She felt pressure on her right foot, and slid it out from beneath her blanket.  A smile, and little butterfly doodle greeted her eyes.  

Good night, soulmate, Narcissa wrote

Good night.  Sleep tight.  And… thank you.

Narcissa smiled.  She slid out of bed, and held her arm close to her chest while creeping to the bathroom.  Once inside, she scrubbed all of the ink off her skin, and bandaged the red slit shut.  

Narcissa and her soulmate were okay.  That was all that mattered.  Everything was alright.  At least for now.  But now was the only thing Narcissa could bear to think about.  

---

After that one night, Narcissa’s soulmate never hurt themselves like that again.  But that didn’t mean they weren’t hurting.   Narcissa could tell they were hurting themselves in other ways.  

She tried to help.  She wrote reminders every few hours, telling her soulmate to eat, and drink water.  She wrote encouraging messages, and doodled across their skin.  

But still, Narcissa would feel her stomach growl with hunger, and her tongue beg for more water.  She felt her eyes grow heavy even though she had slept almost 10 hours the night before.  Her soulmate just didn’t care, and there was nothing Narcissa could do. 

They would talk to each other constantly, ranting about their day, or commenting about something they saw.  Narcissa grew much closer to the person she had never even seen the face of. Closer to them then anyone else she had ever known.  

Even her grandfather. 

Narcissa had a very strained relationship with her grandfather.  She knew deep down he loved her, but he had a hard time showing it.  He was caught in a life of crime, and there was no way out.  

He had been an arms dealer for years, selling guns and other weapons on the black market.  He made a lot of money, but not a lot of friends.  He was a bitter old man, who took all of his anger out on Narcissa.  He had never hit her, but his words were hard enough. 

Narcissa knew she was being abused, and belittled, and manipulated, but she always ended up excusing his actions. Or even worse, sometimes she would place the blame on herself.  She knew she was in a bad situation, but it was one she was stuck in. 

Narcissa talked about him lots with her soulmate.  It turned out, they had a similar situation with their parents.  

Mistreated, abused, bullied, shamed. 

The two escaped into their skin, engrossed with each other.  They held each other right through the pain and the tears.  Though at times, both of them desperately wanted to, they held strong and never hurried themselves for fear of hurting the other. 

---

One day, the straw finally snapped for Narcissa. She was 17 now, and old enough to live her own life. Old enough to understand what her grandfather gave her wasn’t love, it was trauma.  

After he yelled at her for an hour straight because she put a book in the wrong bookshelf, Narcissa decided she had taken enough. 

Can we go?  She desperately scrawled across her ankle. Can we escape these sorry excuses for lives?

Her soulmate wrote back a few minutes later. What do you mean?

We’re old enough to live on our own. Why are we forcing ourselves to live with these people who treat us so terribly. Why don’t we just run away together?

Ok. The reply shocked Narcissa. She had been expecting them to try and convince her otherwise, make her see the absurdity. Not agree.  But Narcissa was glad they agreed. They both deserved a chance to start over. To make a life for themselves, and do it right. 

You will?

With you?  Of course I will silly. I’ve been waiting years for me to ask

When?   When can we leave?

Whenever your ready

A week, Narcissa declared, I’ll meet you in a week at Gatlon City, at the train station

Ok.   I’ll be there, I promise, her soulmate wrote. 

Me too. Narcissa grinned. She was finally escaping. Finally starting fresh. Finally leaving her grandfather to be with someone who truly cared.  Narcissa couldn’t wait.

---

Narcissa creaked the door open, cringing as the hinges squealed loudly. 

“Just where do you think you’re going?”  Her grandfather slurred from the couch. 

Shitshitshitshit, Narcissa though. She was caught.  She was never going to escape her life.

“I told you earlier this week I’m going to a friends house tonight,” Narcissa said lightly, trying to mask her terror. 

“Stop lying!”  He screamed.  “I know that’s not true, you don’t have any friends.”

Narcissa cringed.  

She breathed in deeply.  She was already leaving forever, there was no point in lying anymore.  

“Fine  I’m leaving.  For good.”  She braced herself for the rage. 

Instead, he laughed.  “You?  You're leaving?”  He scoffed.  “You would never.  You’re too scared and dependent on me.”

Narcissa drew herself up.  “No.  You’re wrong.  I’m leaving, to find my soulmate.  We’re making our own life.  Together.”

He gaped at her.  “You can’t!  You can’t go to your soulmate,” he spat.  “You’ll live a terrible life.  You’ll be tied down forever.”

Narcissa shook her head.  “No.  I won’t.  I’ll live the best life I can.  Because I’ll be happy.  I won’t live in fear anymore.  I’m sorry you weren’t meant for your soulmate, but it’s different for me.  I know them.  We are meant for each other.  I wouldn’t expect you to understand.  All you know is hate.”

“So you’re really going?”  Her grandfather’s lip curled up.  

Narrcissa nodded.  “I am.  I’m making my own life, as far away from here as possible.”

“Then go!”  He snarled.  “I don’t want you in my house if you won’t see a reason.  Go.”  He picked a book sitting next to him, and hurled it at Narcissa’s head.  

She ducked, her hair ruffling by the wind.  

She turned to him, tears in her eyes.  “Goodbye grandfather.  I’m sorry.”  She threw open the door, and fled into the night.

---

Narcissa’s heart thudded in her ears.  This was it.  This was the day she was going to meet her soulmate.  She knew she should be realistic, but Narcissa couldn’t help imagining the meeting like something out of the sappy romance novels she liked to read.  

She expected the dreary clouds to disappear, and the sun to shine out on top of them.  

She expected to know exactly who was her other half

She expected to run up, into their arms, and kiss them like she had wanted to be kissed her entire life.  

But Narcissa knew how unlikely it was.  But, a girl could hope, couldn’t she?  

She inhaled deeply.  Uncapping the pen with her teeth, she scrawled on her palm, I’m here  

Me too, her soulmate wrote back.  The familiar loopy red marks eased Narcissa.  She knew this person.  This was her soulmate.  Everything was going to be okay.  It would all be okay.  

Her eyes locked onto a girl standing near a bench, her head bent over her hand, a pen tucked behind her ear.  

Somehow, Narcissa knew.  She knew this was the person she had been searching for her whole life.  She knew that the girl was her soulmate.  

Summoning every miniscule scrap of courage Narcissa could find, she approached the girl.  

She tapped her shoulder.  “Hi,” Narcissa breathed, heart pounding.  “I’m Narcissa.  I think I’m your-”

She was interrupted by the girl throwing her arms around her tightly.  

“I’ve waited so long to meet you,” Narcissa’s soulmate said roughly, her voice thick with tears.  “I’m Danna.”  

Narcissa laughed.  She realized she was crying.  “Me too.”

“I feel like I already know everything about you,” Danna laughed.  She swiped her eyes.  

Narcissa nodded.  “I know we’re soulmates, but I want you to know I understand if you don’t want me,” she said.  “I get it- not all soulmates are really soulmates.”

She was cut off by Danna pressing her lips to hers.  “I want you,” Danna breathed.  “You're the one who I’ve trusted with every secret I’ve ever held.  You’re the one who helped me when no one else could.  You’re the one who took care of me.”  Danna held their hands up, exposing the thick identical scars that spread across their wrists.  “You are the only other person in the world who understood, and actually helped me.  You were the hands that held me.”  Danna reached her hand to Narcissa’s face, wiping away her tears.  “I want you, and no one else.”

“Me too,” Narcissa whispered.  “Me too.”

Tag list: @novissa @thepurpledragon4444  @phobidawg @janisarkisian  @rvbell @lavenderbloo @redassassin  (let me know if you want to be added/taken off!!!)

[jenliliscripts]

Chapter 219

June’s POV

The ride to her apartment was awfully quiet, too quiet that it's already frightening. How do I begin telling her? Should I thank her for a night filled with warmth and intimacy, for creating an imaginary world for me? And another thought crossed my mind—should it remain a fantasy when I could make it a reality before this ends?

The soft whirring of the engine resonated within corners of my car as I pulled over in front of her building. I parted my lips, desperate to break the silence that hung over us, yet nothing came out. Another minute had passed and not a word was said.

"Lia"

"June"

We said in unison, looking at each other with uncertainty. I couldn't read her eyes—they're expressing different emotions at once that I couldn't pinpoint which one she's feeling right now. Is it sadness? Pity? Regret?

"You go first," she prompted, soothing her arm then turned away.

I cleared my throat, mustering all the courage I have before speaking. "Thank you for today, Lia. For being someone else for a night."

"It's nothing. You paid a lot for this," she answered, breathing the words out.

"…for laughing at my silly jokes. For answering every question I threw honestly. For chasing me outside the ice cream shop. For holding my hand every chance you could. For not letting go until we needed to."

Dipping her head down, she began playing with fingers. "Why are you saying all of that? You don't need to list  everything down."

"I just want you to hear it."

Silence.

Where do I go from here? How do I let her know?

"Lia I—"

"Thank you for tonight too. It was a long week and I've been having a rough patch myself. I guess this is somehow my escape from the issues I was dealing with."

She collected her purse, glancing at me again before she pulled the handle. "I'll go inside now, okay? You know what comes after this."

Divorce, my mind whispered.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, digging my nails onto my palms. There are so many things left unsaid. Can we talk about the way you look at me? The way your eyes showed affection after pushing me away not so long ago? Like you wanted me to stay, like you wanted me to fight for whatever this is. Can we talk about the way you hold me? How tender your touch is against my skin? Am I the only one feeling it? And how can I forget about the kiss? The goddamn kiss. The way you gasped as I claimed your lips. The way every calculated move had you pulling my shirt, how it crumpled around your fingers as we got lost in the moment. If I hadn't stopped, where could we have ended? What will you make of us then?

Questions ceaselessly flooded my mind and despite that, I only managed to nod, letting my thoughts dangle at the tip of my tongue.

"Good night, June."

"Good night, Lia."

She stepped out, walking to the entrance slowly. I watched her shiver as the wind whipped past her. Should I let her go like this—admit defeat before the battle even started? Fuck it. I've seen enough to believe that she feels the same. She just needs a wake up call and I'm giving it to her now. If shit happens, then shit happens. It's all or nothing.

I frantically climbed down, jogging behind her. I snagged her wrist, her head quickly turning to me. I immediately released it and took a step back. "Lia. I have to tell you something."

Her expression shifted, fear washing over her in an instant. It seemed like she knew what I was going to say and that made her want to run away yet her feet were glued to the ground. "J-june, whatever that is, keep it to yourself."

"I—"

"No. Stop. I don't want to hear it."

"So you know?"

"I don't know anything. I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't want to know."

Lie. Your eyes say otherwise.

"I don't care if you refuse to hear it, Lia. I'm going to say it regardless." I exhaled audibly. The dreaded moment has come and I have no other choice but to go through it. "I love you, Lia."

She stumbled backwards, unable to respond to my confession. "I loved you for a while now and I wasn't sure if I should tell you because I know it will change everything. I was going to last time, but you said you're seeing Tyler again, so I decided not to. I was discouraged after knowing that, to be honest. I was almost convinced that I didn't have a chance."

My lips curled up to a smile as I look at her lovingly. Although she's evidently horrified by the revelation, I still looked at her with so much adoration. "But I thought again. How could I even have a chance at getting you if I don't tell you how I feel? At some point, you might have been confused. Your head must have been all over the place."

"No, I wasn't confused," she retorted, her brows meeting in the middle. "You're making things up."

"Lia, don't run away. I know you feel the same. Tell me I'm wrong. You can't deny these assumptions after everything that had happened. You, holding my hand, visiting me at home when I was sick—"

"I don't, okay!" she exclaimed, cutting me off, her face turning red as exploded in anger. "Stop twisting things. I don't like you that way. I never did, I never will."

Her words hurt—they're tearing every piece of my heart—and I felt helpless. But I have to keep going. I will not go home until I convince her to leave him for me. I'm sure she's only enraged at the fact that I'm right, that she wants me as much I want her—that she has fallen in love with a girl.

"Then why did you kiss me that night? If that was just an empty gesture, I would have known. I've kissed so many people Lia and no one has ever done it like you did. Not even Bailey who clearly liked me for quite some time." I moved closer to her. "Look, the more you try to hide it, the harder it gets. Fall for me. Fearlessly. Head first."

She was clenching her jaw, her eyes turning glassy. Her breathing was shallow and labored. "I would never, June. Everything about you scares me. I mean everything—your status, your family, your job, your history, the world you are in. I'm scared that being associated with you in any way could potentially destroy everything that I've worked hard for. A week ago, I committed a mistake at work all because I was too occupied thinking what I did wrong for you to act in such a cold way and I couldn't fully understand why I'm so concerned. For the love the of God, why should I care, right? I was out of myself and it didn't sit well with me. From that point on, I had to re-assess, June. I can't let you do this to me."

She sighed, biting her lip for a moment. "You're just going to make things harder for me. I was fine without you. I was completely okay until I woke up in your hotel room and you told me I got married to you. What followed after that were a series of unexpected turns that I wasn’t ready for. I don't need something new. I want what I already know and you—you're just too unpredictable and it's terrifying."

I remained quiet, not sure of what to say. I'm afraid that one wrong answer would serve as the final straw.

She shut her eyes, a line forming in between her brows as her frown grew deeper. "Our relationship is so unclear to me that I started to think of things that I shouldn't be. I didn't like those thoughts, June. Those possibilities and what ifs keep me up at night and as much as I want to deal with them, I'd rather push them away."

Lia avoided my gaze, blinking rapidly to keep her tears from falling. "It was nice playing pretend with you. It was nice that I could hold your hand and not think of the consequences. It was good that I could make up excuses when I become soft for you. We're two people who were fated to meet and that's all there is to it. Somewhere along the way, we need to say goodbye. We live in different worlds. You, of all people, should know that."

Before I realized it, tears started falling from my eyes. I've held them long enough and now they're crashing down one after another. "We don't have to end it. We can still go on. If you just trust me, we can make it work. I'll do everything to make it work."

I wiped my tears from my face but it was useless. My eyes became a flowing stream and the situation isn't helping at all. "You don't have to be scared about anything. Just give me something to hold on to and I'll do everything in my power to protect us. Tell me you love me too, Lia."

She shook her head, a lone tear escaping her eyes. "I don’t. How many times should I repeat myself? Allowing you to come close was a mistake. I should've kept you in a safe distance. I should’ve hated you until the very end.”

"If you can't tell me you love me, then," I cupped her cheek. She briefly recoiled against my touch, but she eventually gave in and let me keep my hand in place. "Can you answer this truthfully please? Do you love him?"

She held the hand that's latched on her face. "Don’t make it difficult for yourself, June. Just go. Leave."

"But I love you. How can I? I can't just stop here. I'll go against him if I have to. Do I need to beg you to choose me?"

She squeezed my shoulders with her other hand then moved towards me, resting her forehead on my chest. "June, what I want you to do is set me free. I need my old self back. I don’t like who I'm becoming because of you. If you really love me, you'd let me go."

"Even if you love me too?"

"I never said I did."

"You don’t need to. From what you said earlier and what I see in your eyes, I know you love me too. I get that your future is at stake. I get that you don't like exploring the unknown—you're not a risk taker. You never were. You always come back to what brings you comfort. But you're making the situation more complicated than it really is just because you don't want to admit the truth. We can easily sort this out, you know."

"June, please," she pleaded, sobbing softly as she banged her head against my chest.

I slowly reached for her nape with one hand and slipped the other behind her back, then pulled her in, her face now pressed against my chest. My lungs burned at every intake of breath and my heart was slowly sinking as time ticked away. "Shhh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I continued apologizing, stroking her back until she stopped crying. "If I disappear from your life, will it make everything better?"

I felt her nod and I drown further in the waves of pain brought by her response. "And you won't regret your decision?"

She shook her head, her fingers clutching the hem of my jacket. Her actions were always contradicting from the very beginning and even now that we are nearing the end, she's still behaving in the same manner. She wants me to go yet her hands says something different. She said she doesn't love me yet there was a hint of sadness in her eyes whenever she denied it.

I breathed out before loosening my embrace. I leaned slightly backwards to get a good look at her face. I tipped her chin up and looked at her lovingly, as if it was the last time I could be this close and maybe this is really the last. "Are you sure?"

She sniffed, her eyes unrelenting. "Yes, I am."

I flashed a somber smile as I tucked the strands of hair on her face behind her ear then planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Okay, then. I will do as you wish, Lili."

I retreated and stood at arm's length. "I'm still glad I got to tell you. At least I won't walk away with regrets. I respect your decision and because I love you, it's enough reason to listen to you. You know I normally wouldn’t accept rejection, but many things changed since I felt this way for you. I've completely lost the old me and I'm happy with who I am now. I even like myself better. How I wish you share the same sentiment, but as you said earlier, you don't like who you are becoming because of me and that's just so sad. Nevertheless…"

I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for the pain that's about to crush me after I say these words to her. "I will live as if we hadn't met. If I see you somewhere, maybe in your office, I will walk past you like I never knew you. I will be out of your life from here on out, Lia. You’re free from me."

[rushingheadlong]

I’ll Put A Spell On You - A John/Roger Smut Fic

Summary: John is tired of always getting teased for wearing ��boring” costumes, so he decides to spice things up this year - and when Roger makes sure to show his appreciation for John’s costume choice, they both end up having a good time.

Words: ~5,900

Tags/Warnings: John/Roger, 18+, D/s (sub!John), spanking, rimming, crossdressing

Notes: Written for the DL Servers HalloQueen fic exchange! My prompt was: John buys a "sexy witch" costume to wear as a joke. It turns out to be more hot than funny to Roger. Smut ensues. I’ve never written Dealor before and I don’t usually write crossdressing, so I hope I did alright with this!

“I think that the next time anyone tries to tell me that Queen must attend their fancy dress party, I am going to take their invitation and shove it up their arse!” Roger yells from down the hall.

John laughs as he smoothes down the front of his skirt and adjusts the pointed hat on top of his head. “I think I’ll help you with that!” he calls back.

“I mean why even invite Queen to a party if everyone is supposed to wear stupid costumes anyway!” Roger continues ranting. He’s been complaining about this for weeks now and it’s a testament to how much John shares his annoyance that he hasn’t told Roger to shut up yet.

Although, as John takes a step back and studies his final outfit in the mirror, he finds that his costume somehow ended up looking surprisingly good on him. He had expected the “sexy witch” costume that he bought to be just flashy enough and ill-fitting enough to look silly on him, but even without the right parts to fill out the dress it certainly doesn’t look as bad as he was expecting it too. Far from it, in fact.

The skirt hits him at mid-thigh, just high enough that there’s a bit of skin showing between the top of his striped stockings and the hem of the skirt. In a fortuitous turn of events the cheap dress doesn’t have much structure in the bodice and it sits smoothly across John’s chest, leaving his collarbones and shoulders bare. John even has the passing thought that maybe he should have picked up some makeup to wear as well to really complete the look, nevermind that he usually hates how it feels on his face after a few hours.

“And god knows our manager is going to find some way to blame us for the bad publicity if any photos from tonight make it into the papers…”

“We could just stay home.” John would much prefer to spend a quiet evening in with his boyfriend instead of embarrassing himself at this party.

“Freddie will never forgive us if we don’t turn up,” Roger says. “And I’ve spent too much time getting into this fucking costume to back out now.”

“What are you wearing, anyway?” John asks. Somehow they never quite got around to discussing their plans and apart from catching a glimpse of the bundle of clothes in Roger’s arms as he ducked into the bathroom John knows nothing about his costume.

“Come over here and see for yourself!”

“You come over here, I’m still trying to find my damn shoes,” John suggests instead. He knows that he has a pair of boots around here somewhere that will work well enough with his stockings, and he leans down to dig through the mess at the bottom of the closet to look for them.

“Just throw on a pair of trainers or something. We aren’t supposed to look good tonight anyway.” There’s the sound of Roger slamming some drawer in the bathroom, and then John hears him as he starts to walk down the hall back towards the bedroom. “Honestly, John, I’m not doing this again next year. I don’t care what Reid says, I’m not- John?”

Roger’s voice is strangled, and when John glances over his shoulder he can see that Roger is staring at him, mouth agape, as he takes in the sight of John in his costume. John quickly straightens up and turns to Roger, his hands shaking a little as he smoothes down his skirt. He can feel his face starting to grow hot with embarrassment and he tries to stop himself from squirming under Roger’s intense gaze. It’s hard to tell exactly what Roger is thinking, and now John is second-guessing his costume. He didn’t think it looked bad, but maybe he was wrong? Or maybe he’s taken the joke a step too far?

After a moment of silence John clears his throat and Roger jumps a little, startled out of his thoughts by the noise. “I, uh, I like your costume,” John says, motioning vaguely in Roger’s direction. “Can’t go wrong as a scarecrow. It’s a classic.”

Roger laughs a little and says, “So’s a witch costume but I’ve never seen one as stunning as yours.”

That answers the question of what Roger thinks of John’s outfit, but if anything John’s blush only deepens at the note of appreciation in Roger’s voice. “You like it then?” he asks.

“Like it? John, I love it.” Roger gives John another pointed once-over and then, with a small smirk, he says, “Go on, give me a twirl. I want to see the whole outfit.”

John feels his heart speed up a tick at the cocky undertone to the order. He loves when Roger gets like this and Roger knows it. Roger’s smirk deepens and he motions with one finger for John to start spinning. So John does, slowly turning in a circle so Roger can take in his costume from every angle.

“You know, I’m not sure you really understood the costume requirements for this party,” Roger says as John finishes his spin. “We’re supposed to look silly, not sexy.”

“Don’t I look a little silly? Black and orange aren’t exactly my colors,” John jokes.

“No, they’re not,” Roger agrees. “But that doesn’t make you any less gorgeous, angel.”

And with that Roger finally moves forward, crowding John against the closet and kissing him deeply. John drapes his arms loosely around Roger’s neck and parts his lips so Roger can slip his tongue inside. Some of the straw sticking out of Roger’s shirt tickles John’s chest as Roger presses in even closer, but John’s laugh quickly turns into a low groan as Roger sneaks one hand between them to palm at John’s cock through his skirt.

“Fuck, Rog,” John groans as he instinctively bucks his hips into Roger’s touch. “Keep that up and we’re never going to make it to this party.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” Roger says. He keeps teasing at John’s cock and even through the layers of fabric the dull pressure feels unbelievably good. “I can think of quite a few things we could do that would be way more fun than going to this party…”

John has a pretty good idea of what those things could be, and with how quickly it feels like he’s losing his mind under Roger’s deft touch he’s so tempted to just let Roger do whatever he wants with him… but he still has enough self-restraint left to point out, “Didn’t you just say that Freddie will never forgive us if we don’t show up?”

“I think if Fred saw what you’re wearing, he’d understand.”

John laughs but he still gently pushes Roger back. Roger pouts but he does let go of John, and John tries not to miss his touch too much. “We don’t need to stay long, but we can’t skip out on it altogether,” he says.

He finally spots the boots he had been looking for sticking out from underneath the bed. He gives Roger, who’s still sulking a little, a quick peck on the cheek as he brushes past him, and as John bends over to grab the shoes he hears Roger groan quietly behind him.

“You’re going to tease me all night, aren’t you?” Roger says.

John stays facing away from Roger as he puts his shoes on so his boyfriend can’t see the amused smile on his face. “Maybe just a little,” John says. “But you like it when I tease you.”

“Yeah, but I like it a lot more when we just stay in and I can fuck you until you can’t think straight anymore.” Roger’s hands settle on John’s hips again and John jumps a little at the unexpected touch; he hadn’t even heard Roger move at all. “I might have to punish you later, if you’re going to be a brat.”

John’s breath hitches a little and he hears Roger chuckle behind him. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, actually, I think that’s exactly what’s going to have to happen.” He grinds up against John, and John bites back a whimper when he feels just how hard Roger is right now. “You like the sound of that, don’t you, honey?”

John knows that all it would take is a simple no right now and Roger would immediately stop everything he was doing - but John’s pretty sure that he might actually die if Roger stopped this game now, so instead he says, “Yes, god, I love it Roger, please-”

Roger drops his head against John’s shoulder, groaning quietly as he grinds up against John a little harder this time. “Fuck, John, you’re gonna kill me tonight, I know it.” He turns his head and kisses the crook of John’s neck, and then he takes a step back and lets go of John altogether. “Finish getting ready and meet me at the car. The sooner we get to this party, the sooner we can get back home again - and I want to make sure we have plenty of time to finish this later.”

Part of John is grateful for the reprieve so that he has a chance to calm down a little and pull himself back together, but he still hurries to finish putting on his shoes and double-checking his costume and there’s a knowing smirk on Roger’s face when John slides into the passenger’s seat only a few short minutes later.

The party itself goes much the same way that they always do, passing with a strange mix of rock ‘n’ roll debauchery and music industry schmoozing that not even the addition of ridiculous costumes can really interfere with. John isn’t even the only one there in drag, although Roger certainly doesn’t have eyes for anyone else except him. It makes it almost too easy to tease him; all John has to do is play with the hem of his skirt a little or cock a hip out as he talks to someone, and that’s enough to get Roger staring at him intently from across the room.

This certainly hadn’t been how John thought this evening was going to go, but it’s a rush to know that Roger is this fixated on him in this dress. It’s even more of a rush to know that Roger is going to pay him back for every second of this teasing when they finally get home and the anticipation of what’s going to come later makes John grateful that he’s wearing a skirt, so no one can see how hard he is.

The two of them drift separately through the crowd, and despite the game they’re playing John does try to keep his focus on the people he meets and the conversations he’s having - so much so that he doesn’t realize that he’s ended up in the same area as Roger, until he turns to his right and sees the drummer leaning up against the wall nearby. Roger crooks one finger in a “come here” gesture and, after quickly checking to make sure that no one is paying them any attention, John hurries over.

“Having fun?” Roger asks. It’s an innocent enough question but the look he levels at John is anything but.

John shrugs. “It’s been fine,” he says mildly. “Though, if you wanted to head out…”

The rest of John’s sentence is cut off with a laugh from Roger. “You were so quick to make sure that we showed up to this party and now you just can’t wait to get home, can you?”

John bites his bottom lip and doesn’t answer, because Roger isn’t exactly wrong. Every hungry look from Roger makes John a little more desperate to get home, a little more desperate for the punishment that Roger promised him before they left, but he’s not quite so far gone that he’s willing to admit that aloud just yet. So he shrugs again and looks out across the party, feigning a nonchalance that he absolutely does not feel.

But Roger isn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Roger glances around to make sure that no one is looking at them, before slowly sliding a hand down to brush along the bare skin of John’s thighs just above his stockings and right below the hem of his skirt. John can’t hold back a shiver and Roger’s smile takes on a wicked glint as he says, “Yeah, just look at you. You can put up a good front but you’re dying to get out of here, aren’t you?”

John exhales shakily. “Roger…”

“If we weren’t in public, I’d make you beg for me right now,” Roger says in a low voice.

John is about ready to beg for him right now anyway because that sort of easy cockiness from Roger just does things to John, makes him go weak-kneed and desperate to please him. Roger knows that too, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to want to wait any longer himself because he jerks his thumb towards the exit and says, “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

The car park is empty around them. It’s too soon for most people to be leaving but late enough that there aren’t any last-minute stragglers still heading inside, and Roger takes advantage of the privacy to crowd John up against the side of the car and kiss him. He keeps John pinned in place with one hand on his hip and one cupping his face as he devours John’s mouth, licking his way inside and nipping at John’s bottom lip until he’s moaning and writhing underneath Roger’s touch.

“Christ, John, you drive me fucking crazy,” Roger pants against John’s mouth. “Next time we’re skipping the party and staying in. I don’t care if the others get pissed, I could barely keep my hands to myself in there.” He kisses along John’s jawline and adds, “The only good thing about coming here is now I get to punish you for being such a tease.”

John moans quietly and arches his neck to give Roger better access to kiss and bite along his throat. He knows that Roger isn’t stupid enough to leave marks where other people can see them, but the possibility that he could makes John feel like he’s burning up with arousal.

“What- ah- what are you going to do?” he barely manages to ask.

“To punish you?” John nods, a little too eagerly, and Roger laughs. “Why don’t we head home and I’ll just show you instead?”

The drive back home feels like it lasts a small eternity. Roger keeps one hand on John’s thigh the entire time, moving it only when he has to shift gears and then immediately returning it to John’s leg just underneath his skirt. He doesn’t touch John’s cock but it’s still so close that John can’t help but squirm - at least, until a sharp look from Roger has him trying his hardest to stay still instead.

The moment they get inside the house Roger is on him again, kissing him even before the door is fully closed behind him and pulling the witch’s hat off John’s head to toss behind him somewhere. “You remember your safewords, angel?” he asks as he tangles one hand in John’s hair and gives a gentle tug - not enough to really hurt but enough to make sure that John is paying attention and to make his cock throb underneath his skirt.

John nods and Roger tightens his grip slightly in warning. “Ah- yeah, yes, Rog. Green to keep going, and red to stop.”

“And yellow to slow down and check in,” Roger adds and John nods, as much as he’s able to anyway. “Good boy. Now, this is how this is going to go. You’re going to go into the bedroom and get on the bed, arse up and waiting for me. I’m going to spank you as your punishment and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re not allowed to come until after I do. Understand?”

John bites down on a moan and takes a deep breath, trying to stay focused on what Roger is saying. Checking in like this is important, even if John wants to bolt to the bedroom and get started with Roger’s plans as soon as possible.

“One question,” John says. Roger raises an eyebrow, and John asks, “Should I undress, or-?”

“I didn’t tell you to, did I?” Roger points out, though he lets go of John’s hair and scratches gently at his scalp instead, a silent praise for seeking clarification on Roger’s orders.

“Although…” Roger hums a little, considering, and finally says, “Pants and shoes off, but everything else stays on. Next time, we’ll get you some pretty heels and panties to wear while I fuck you.”

John does moan at that. The promise of a next time and the thought of wearing lacey panties under his dress are so hot that John feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin with need. He tries to arch against Roger, desperate to feel his body against his, desperate to get any scrap of friction against his cock, just desperate in a way that he never gets unless it’s with Roger, but Roger doesn’t give him anything, not yet. He lets go of John altogether and takes a step back, and John whines at the loss of contact.

“Bedroom,” Roger orders.

John nods, and somehow manages to stumble down the hall and into their bedroom. The damn boots that had taken him so long to find earlier in the evening are pulled off and tossed unceremoniously into the closet, and his pants are shoved in the laundry basket. They weren’t a special pair or anything because John hadn’t expected his costume to illicit quite this sort of response, but once he’s kneeling face-down on the bed he almost wishes that he still had them on. There’s no hiding how exposed he is in this position, with his skirt revealing his bare arse and his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs.

He rests his head on his arms and takes a shaky breath and tries to pretend that his face isn’t as hot as he knows it is. It’s embarrassing, to be left here waiting like this, but it’s also thrilling and makes heat pool in John’s belly, and when he finally hears the door open he has to bite his hand to stop himself from whimpering in anticipation.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Roger says, “Christ, John. You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

John feels the bed dip as Roger climbs up next to him and then Roger’s hands are finally, finally touching him. Roger slides his hands up John’s thighs, along the curve of his arse, and finally up his lower back, pushing up his dress slightly as he goes.

“I can’t believe you ever thought you’d look silly in this costume,” he says as he drapes himself over John to press a kiss to the back of his neck. Roger must have gotten undressed before coming into the bedroom because John can feel Roger’s warm skin against his exposed rear, and when Roger rocks against him John can feel his cock catch along the top band of his stockings.

Roger pulls back and John grips the blankets tightly to stop himself from spreading his legs further, arching his back a little bit more, doing anything to entice Roger to hurry things along. And Roger does touch John again, but only one gentle hand that rests on his lower back as Roger says, “You’re shaking, angel. Color?”

“Green,” John says and, god, they’ve hardly begun and John can already hear how wrecked his voice sounds.

Roger must hear it too, because his hand slides back down to John’s arse and he squeezes it tightly for a moment. “Oh, so you’re just that desperate for me, are you? So fucking eager to get started that you can’t even hold still anymore, is that right?”

“Please,” John moans as he tries to rock back into Roger’s touch - but with one last squeeze, Roger lets go and settles into place behind him.

“Ten hits, John,” Roger says, and John whines low in the back of his throat. “I want you to count them out for me, okay?”

“Okay,” John says, and he barely has time to brace himself before the first hit lands. It’s a hard strike, but not uncomfortably so. Roger is just using his hand, not any of their toys, and without warming John’s skin up first it’s clear that he’s not putting his full strength into it. But this is still a punishment, even if it’s a fun one, and John gasps and is rocked a little forward at the first hit.

“One,” he counts, and Roger doesn’t hesitate with the second hit. “Two.”

The third and fourth hits come quickly, one to each cheek, but after the fifth Roger pauses for a moment. “You’re doing so good, taking this so well for me,” he praises as he grabs John’s arse again, digging his fingers into the tender flesh until John moans and tries to pull away from him.

The sixth hit takes John by surprise; Roger still has one hand on him and John hadn’t been prepared for the strike. He cries out and tries to muffle the noise in his hands, but Roger lets go of him to instead grab his hair and gently pull his head back up.

“None of that now. Let me hear you.”

John whines as he nods, and he expects Roger to let go of him after that. When he doesn’t, it takes John a moment to realize what he’s waiting for. “S-six.”

“Good boy,” Roger praises and he lets go of John’s hair. John’s head falls forward again but he doesn’t try to muffle his moan as Roger lands the seventh hit.

The next two land lower on John's arse, almost hitting the top of his thighs, in the exact spot that John knows from experience would make it agony to sit down later if Roger really wanted to make John's punishment last. But that's not quite the game they're playing right now, and even though Roger's final hit is the hardest one yet John knows, in the back of his mind, that there won't be any marks that linger past tonight. That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt but it's a good sort of pain, the kind that makes every one of John's nerve endings light up even as the harsh sting starts to fade into a dull, pleasurable ache.

“Ten,” John gasps and he doesn’t know whether to be disappointed that that’s the last one or relieved that Roger is finally going to fuck him. “Roger, please, I- I need-”

“Shh, I’ve got you, I know what you need,” Roger says as he runs his hands gently over John’s reddened arse. He scratches lightly over the spots he just spanked and John whimpers at the new sting of pain, even as he arches up into Roger’s touch. It’s almost more than he can stand but somehow he still can’t get enough of it.

Roger taps on the inside of John’s thighs and says, “Spread your legs a little wider for me, honey.”

So John does, even though it makes him feel even more lewdly on display that before, and Roger takes advantage of the slight change in position by reaching down to toy with the head of John’s cock. “You’re already dripping for me, aren’t you?” Roger says teasingly as he smears through the precome beading at the tip of John’s cock. “So fucking eager for me, christ, you’re amazing, John.”

“Ro-Roger.” John groans as Roger trails his fingers lightly down the length of John’s cock and tickles over his balls before he reaches up and spreads John’s cheeks to expose his hole.

And then Roger leans in and licks a stripe over John’s opening, and any coherent thoughts left in John’s mind immediately disappear. He shouts and squirms beneath Roger, but Roger holds him in place with a tight grip on his sore arse and John is helpless to do anything but surrender to the sensations of Roger eating him out.

Roger doesn’t hold back. He laps at John’s opening, circling it and dipping the tip of his tongue inside before pulling back. He presses open kisses to his hole and teases it with his breath, and by the time Roger finally wiggles his tongue past the tight ring of muscle John is so close to coming that he’s sure he’s going to fall over that edge just from Roger’s clever tongue working him open.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, Roger, I need to come, please let me come, please, please-”

Roger pulls back and nips at John’s arse. “I told you, not until I do,” he says in a rough voice.

John sobs and drags his face against the blankets and tries to rut back against Roger, desperate for any touch on his cock or arse. “I can’t. Roger, I can’t-”

“You can.” Roger slides his hands up the outside of John’s thighs and along his lower back in slow, gentle strokes, staying away from the areas he spanked before and giving John a chance to calm down. “Color, John?”

John takes a shaky breath and actually has to think about that for a moment. The last thing he wants is for Roger to stop, but he doesn’t share Roger’s confidence that he can stave off his orgasm. “Yellow,” he says at last. “Please don’t stop, but- Roger, god, I want to be good but I’m so close to coming already.”

“You are good. You’re so fucking good for me, angel, you’re absolutely perfect,” Roger assures him. “Do you still want me to fuck you?” John nods desperately and Roger says, “Okay. I’ve still gotta open you up, though. Can you handle that, or do you want to do it yourself?”

John whines quietly as he tries to weigh the options. He doesn’t want to work himself open but he knows that he will come the moment Roger gets his fingers inside him, so he finally says, a little reluctantly, “I can do it.”

“Okay, great,” Roger says. “I want you to ride me, so let’s just…”

It doesn’t take much for Roger to coax John to sit up so they can switch places. Roger lies down on his back on the bed, and John finally gets a proper look at him. John already knew that he was naked but he’s rock-hard as well and there’s a flush of arousal spread across his face and down his chest. Roger is absolutely gorgeous and seeing him as turned on as John feels helps John claw back some small semblance of control.

“Hey, c’mere,” Roger says as he reaches towards John.

And John goes willingly, straddling Roger and letting himself be pulled into a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle, given the tone of the evening so far. John can feel Roger smiling against his mouth and he runs his hands along John’s bare shoulders with a touch that’s soft but reassuring, rather than purely teasing.

“You really are gorgeous, you know,” Roger says softly as he plays with the lace on the neckline of John’s dress.

John smiles down at him and says, “So are you.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m naked and have a pretty dick,” Roger jokes.

“I am not!” John protests with a laugh. He runs his hands along Roger’s bare chest and adds, “Although, now that you mention it…”

“You ready to keep going?”

John nods. “Do you have the-?” Roger hands him the bottle of lube before John can finish the question. “Thanks.”

John pours some out on his fingers and reaches behind himself, shivering in anticipation as he spreads the slick around his hole before finally pushing one finger inside. He gasps and braces himself with his other hand on Roger’s chest and slowly starts to thrust the finger in and out of his hole.

“That’s it, honey, work it in nice and slow,” Roger says. He slides his hands up John’s thighs, pushing the skirt up a little bit. The fabric slides against John’s dick and he whimpers at the feeling. It’s light enough that John doesn’t think it’ll be enough to make him come too soon, at least not now that he’s calmed down a bit, but it’s still a delicious tease.

John carefully works in a second finger, moaning loudly at the stretch. It doesn’t hurt but there is a burn as John scissors his fingers and tries to work them in a little deeper. He can’t quite reach his prostate at this angle but that’s okay; just being filled like this feels so good that John can hardly stand it.

“How many is that?” Roger asks. His thumbs are rubbing circles into the crease of John’s thighs, so close to John’s cock that he can barely think of anything except how badly he wants Roger - inside him and stroking his dick and making him fall to pieces in his lap.

“Two,” John gasps. He’s rolling his hips down onto his hand, properly fucking himself on his fingers now, and he’s pretty sure he might just die if he can’t get Roger inside him right this very second. “Rog, I’m good, I’m ready, can I-?”

“Yeah, angel, yeah, go ahead, go sit down on my cock,” Roger says and that’s all John needs to hear.

He pulls his fingers out and tries to ignore how empty he now feels as he slicks up Roger’s cock and starts to sink down onto it. Roger groans and his fingers dig a little harder into John’s thighs, but he doesn’t try to rush John even though John knows that he must be dying to move. He can feel how tight he still is around Roger’s cock and he has to work himself on it slowly. How Roger is maintaining any control John has no idea because he is rapidly losing any calm that he managed to regain while they were taking things slow.

“So good, John, you take my cock so well,” Roger praises as John finally seats himself fully on Roger’s dick.

John is panting heavily and he knows he’s not going to last long, but he’s determined to follow through with Roger’s orders and make him come first. So he doesn’t take more than a handful of seconds to adjust to the feeling of being stretched wide around Roger’s cock before he lifts himself up and starts to fuck himself on Roger.

“Fuck John, honey, you feel so fucking good,” Roger groans. “So fucking beautiful too, riding my cock in your pretty dress…” He pulls his hands out from under John’s skirt and settles them on his hips, coaxing him to move a little faster as he starts thrusting up to meet John’s movements.

John shifts a little and Roger’s cock finally hits his prostate. “Roger, god-” John cries out as pleasure skitters up his spine. He clenches down around Roger and Roger throws his head back and moans, and it takes every ounce of control that John has to stop himself from falling over the edge when Roger looks and sounds like that.

“Yeah, like that, just like that…” Roger is rocking up into him a little harder now, a little faster, and John knows that he has to be close. That only spurs him on more and even though his legs are shaking from the effort of riding Roger he keeps moving and he keeps clenching around Roger’s cock, trying to make him come as quickly as possible so John can finally come as well.

“John, John, god- god, John-” Roger groans and he holds John down on his cock as he comes hard, spilling into him, his hips stuttering up as he chases the last aftershocks of pleasure.

Roger finally sags back against the bed, breathing hard. He’s beautiful like this, blissed-out and boneless underneath him, but John is so close to coming, so desperate to tip over that edge as well, that John can hardly appreciate the sight.

“Roger,” he whines, trembling with the strain of trying to stay still instead of grinding down onto Roger’s slowly softening cock. “Rog, please, please, I need to come, please tell me I can come…”

“Yeah, angel, yeah, of course you can,” Roger breathes. He moves one hand to massage John’s dick through the skirt and John chokes on a moan. The feeling of the cheap fabric rubbing against his cock is just the right side of pained-pleasure and he grinds up into Roger’s hand. He’s so close, he just needs a little more...

“C’mon, John,” Roger says. “Come for me, honey, go ahead and spill all over the inside of your pretty skirt for me.”

And that’s it for John, that’s all it takes for him to do exactly what Roger wants and finally fall into his own orgasm. He cries out as a wave of pleasure overwhelms him, his cock spurting against the fabric of the skirt as Roger keeps stroking him until John moans weakly and bats his hand away.

He collapses down on top of Roger and Roger wraps his arms around him, stroking his back gently and pressing kisses to the top of his head and murmuring soft words of praise and adoration as John catches his breath and slowly regains his senses.

“Ready to get out of that dress?” Roger asks after a few minutes of quiet cuddling.

“I think you’re supposed to ask me that before you fuck me,” John mumbles. His face is still buried against Roger’s chest and he can feel Roger laughing underneath him.

“Nah, it was much more fun to fuck you with the dress still on,” Roger says.

“Hm. Can’t really argue with that.”

Roger starts to sit up and John grumbles unhappily as he’s forced to move as well. “Sorry, but you’ll be more comfortable with this off,” Roger tells him as he pulls down the zipper on the back of John’s dress and helps him shimmy it down his body. John grimaces as the sticky skirt is pulled away from his skin, but Roger ducks into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and quickly helps him wipe down and once John tugs off his stockings he finally settles back down with a contented sigh.

“Do you need anything?” Roger asks as he throws the washcloth and John’s costume in with the rest of their laundry, though John doubts there’s any use in trying to wash the dress. They’ll just have to buy another one, if they want to do this again.

And John does want to do this again.

“Just you,” John says as he reaches out to Roger.

Roger laughs softly but climbs back into bed next to John. “You have me,” he says as he wraps his arms around John, and John snuggles close to him. “You always have me.”

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »7

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 5k ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, second hand embarassment because it’s so damn cheesy & fluffy, discussions of sexuality, violence(Tae’s abusive father).

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang ♡♡♡ Banner made by my lovely @ppersonna​ ily ily ily

Namjoon was standing idly, leaned against the wall in the midst of people with a drink in his hand, eyes immediately widening when he spots the two boys approaching him.

Jungkook already felt embarrassed, the entire situation hadn’t quite hit him until now that their captain had caught them completely naked.

Along with Namjoon knowing, maybe he might’ve told Jin..

Also Jimin— Hoseok, too.

And Yoongi eavesdropped.

So far, everyone was aware of the pair’s earlier whereabouts..

Mark’s guest room.

“Hey, guys! Uhm, how are you?” Yoongi said chirpier than usual, and Taehyung already knew they were fucked. The mint haired boy barely smiled, at least not to the extent where his gums could be seen.

Tae’s body gravitated to Jungkook’s side, his stance still unsteady whilst his narrowed eyes suspiciously raked over the familiar faces of his hyungs.

Fuck, why did this have to happen to him?

Could he even talk to them again? Even less be in the same room?

“What.” Taehyung broke the silence with a straight-face, crossing his arms over his chest.

Namjoon wearily glanced at their surroundings, “Well.. we were going to leave the party and eat out at some fast food place. If you’re not too tired— Which, why would you be? Shit..”

He rubbed at his nape before continuing, “What I’m trying to say is.. want to come along? We want you both there..”

The Captain mumbled, as if saying that no matter the trauma his eyes went through, Kook and Tae were still loved.

Maybe Jungkook already knew that, but something told Namjoon that Tae wasn’t as comfortable.

Taehyung seemed to think about it for a long moment, gaze worried. He’d just told Jungkook how he felt, plus now all of their friends knew they were having sex..

He still needed to figure out where to go from here, in terms of Kook and him.. 

Hell, he didn’t even know what he wanted. Tae liked Jungkook just.. in secrecy.

“I dunno.” Taehyung shrugged, “Kook, do you wanna go?”

Now they really seemed like a couple; he asked the younger what he thought, as if he wasn’t interested in going if Jungkook wasn’t going to be there. As if they came in a pair..

He really wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall, badly.

Jungkook seemed a bit less troubled by the fact that all of his hyungs seemed aware of what was going on between the two boys. He was open about his own sexuality after all.

However, that doesn't mean he wasn't flustered everytime Namjoon made eye contact with him.

Kook stood close to the elder, serving as a physical support in case his sore body decided not to obey his movements.

His head quickly jerked in Tae’s direction of the sound of his nickname, considering his question before responding,

"I'm starved, I could go for some food."

He wasn't lying, he had barely eaten before the party and now all his energy was spent fucking-- he needed food.

He just wasn't sure if he wanted to spend some more time alone with taehyung...was his body even okay? He went really hard on him..

In the end, Jungkook decides, a weird feeling filling his senses  when it seems like Taehyung would want to do whatever he chooses. He nods at his hyungs, Namjoon mimicking the nod,

"Cool, yeah you need to eat especially after-- ah let's just go!" Namjoon stuttered out, internally cursing his big mouth.

As Taehyung limped behind the rest of the boys, making sure to stay close to Jungkook, Mila approached him.

“Taehyung!” Her icy eyes glared into his chocolate-colored ones, coming over with the intention of interrogating the shit out of him, but that was put on the back burner soon enough.

“What.. what happened to you?”

She questioned, seeing that Tae looked weaker than usual, legs wobbly as he walked.

“Did— Did he beat you up?” Mila pointed over at Jungkook, remembering Namjoon’s words from a few minutes ago. She guessed they must’ve had a feud, which ended in a physical fight.

“Taehyung, baby..” The woman cupped the boy’s sullen face, brushing his fringe away from his eyes to look at him more clearly.

“Mila—“ He tried to speak but she wouldn’t let him, shushing him gently.

Was she that desperate?

“Taehyung, Jungkook!” Jin whistled at them, trying to give them an excuse to get the hell out of there. “I’m starving, you know I get moody when I’m hungry!”

“I gotta go..” Taehyung shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. 

Mila stared at him dumbfounded, watching as Tae left her behind with a blurry vision.

It didn’t make any sense..

“Fuck, that was close.” Taehyung mumbled to the younger as they made their way to his car, bidding goodbye to the rest of the boys for now.

Shit. He regretted parking a few streets down.. 

In the midst of their calming walk, Taehyung snuck a few glances at Jungkook, trying to be subtle despite him never being good at that..

“I had fun.” The elder shrugged his shoulders, not trying to sound cheesy or anything of that sort.

“..Did you?”

As he was mildly annoyed yet amused by the entire Mila scene, he was relieved that they finally made it out of the suffocating building to head back towards the car. He kept his pace a little slower than usual, meaning sure he kept his form next to Taehyung.

Speaking of Taehyung, who suddenly seems full of surprises today. Since when would he ask Jungkook what he thought? Twice.

And not to forget the fact that Taehyung, for the first time, had mentioned that he's got feelings for the younger male.

Jungkook gazed over at Tae, a small smile on his lips forming due to the sweetness of that question. It was silly-- but he enjoyed that if he felt like his opinion mattered. And, after the confession, some of the elders actions automatically seemed to be of different meaning than when he didn't know.

"One of the best nights of my life." 

Kook felt a little brave, blaming it on the alcohol, letting his hand chase for the elders to delicately grab it in his. It was dark out, barely anybody around... why not hold his hand? He craved it, almost as much as craving his body. It was much deeper than that.

The elder shook his head, stifling a chuckle of his own.

“That’s a little bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

Nevertheless, Taehyung secretly agreed with Jungkook. Aside from the random boy puking buckets in the restroom, it was a pretty awesome night. Scratch that, the best night.

Expecting the surprisingly comfortable silence to linger for a little longer, Tae yelped when he felt something brush against his hand, only to relax when seeing that the ‘something’ was attached to Jungkook’s body.

The elder looked at their surroundings, making sure that no one was close. He was glad that it was dark out; Taehyung’s face was a hue of red.

But then again, if Jungkook caught him, he’d just blame it on the cold.

“Come on, let’s hurry..” Tae bit down on his lip, squeezing onto the younger’s hand before pulling him along to his car.

They’d settled for McDonald’s, where they met Namjoon and the rest of the boys at one of the enclosed booths in the corner.

It seemed big enough for all of them, and even if it wasn’t, they were going to have to make it work.

Taehyung slid into the middle, holding back a groan when he’d been so careless to his butt’s feelings. And it was feeling pretty fuckin’ hurt.

“That lady keeps glaring at us..” Hoseok pouted, eyeing the older woman behind the counter who looked like she would rather be in hell.

“Of course she is, Hoseok. We literally came in thirty minutes before they closed.” Jimin sighed, taking a seat.

“Well, we better make those thirty minutes count, huh?” Namjoon smiled, glancing over at Jungkook and Taehyung. “It gives us enough time to talk..”

God, the elder was /horrible/ at being subtle, even worse than Taehyung.

Jungkook loudly slipped through the straw of his soda, preferably he’d just not have this conversation at all. He feels like he's had so many revealing moments in the past few weeks that he swears at this point confrontations were just a part of his daily life.

He glances at Taehyung, knowing that even if they know-- even if /he/ knows how tae feels, he is absolutely useless at communicating himself. So, in a sense, he needed this 'group meeting'.. whether he wanted it or not.

"Was it good?" Yoongi blurts out noncommittally, however a small spark of interest lingered in his eyes when he looked at the boys. It didn't last long though, both Jimin & Jin kicking at his leg below the table.

Kook leaned forward a little bit, his doe eyes moving across the table until they land on namjoon. Of course he looked like he was about to explode from word vomit.

"Just ask, hyung, you look like you're about to burst."

Drawing small chuckles from the group, Namjoon takes a quiet deep breath before he throws out his first question. It might be terribly inappropriate, but not knowing for certain was gnawing at his senses.

Of course, before he managed to open his mouth, Yoongi's voice once more asked out loud what everyone was initially thinking, no beating around the bush,

"So, you're both gay?" All eyes flickered between the two boys, slightly more focused on Taehyung. They already know kook is gay-- but Kim Taehyung?!

Taehyung nearly choked on his chicken nuggets.

“No.” He was quick to shoot everyone’s suspicions down, “I mean.. I’m not gay.”

A few seconds later, and the elder didn’t seem so sure.

“Fuck, I-I don’t know.” 

Taehyung stuffed his face with some more food, too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eye. He didn’t know who he was, all he knew was that he kinda, sorta really liked Jeon Jungkook.

Maybe he was Kook-sexual. Surprisingly, that made the most sense to him..

“Well, you know. You can be bi, pansexual..” Jin encouraged, stealing one of Tae’s nuggets.

“I don’t know, alright?” Taehyung playfully slapped his hyung’s hand away, guarding his food.

Can these thirty minutes go by even slower?

The elder felt like he was in the middle of an interrogation, and in some way, he was.

Why was his sexuality that big of a deal? It’s not like Tae’s one to flaunt it wherever he went.

The boy just wanted to eat his chicken nuggets in peace.

Jungkook quietly listened in on the conversation, chewing his double burger with a content hum, until, finally, it was his turn to have the attention turned to him,

''Kook,'' Jimin was curious, ''What happened to Ash? I thought you two were a thing--'' He got interrupted by Namjoon, ''Yeah, I thought so too?''

Now everyone stared at the youngest, his eyes widening as he could literally feel his body freeze at the mention of his name. The memories were still fresh, the fear ingrained in his chest in the form of anxiety. He takes a deep breath, 

''Not a thing. He's a psycho.''

Jungkook was straight to the point, cold and it was obvious he didn't want to speak further on the topic, the message duly noted by the group. Namjoon cleared his throat after a few seconds of worry, they surely didn't know what had happened. Only the two boys knew.

''Well... What about you two?'' His eyes flickered between Tae & Kook

“What about us?” Taehyung relaxed after having brushed off Ash’s name, his shoulders no longer tense, and his face no longer morphed into a scowl.

“He meant if you guys are together.” Yoongi nonchalantly clarified, “Since, you know, you were fucking.”

Everyone went silent. Partly because of shock, and the other from anticipation.

“Uh..” Taehyung glanced at Jungkook, not knowing the answer to that question himself.

“It’s none of your business, hyungs.” He sipped on his strawberry milkshake, mind still clouded with confusion.

Were they together..? 

No, Kook didn’t say anything.

But he did confess..

Jungkook was probably over him.

“Well, let’s start off here.. When you think of Jungkook, what comes to mind?”

Jimin suddenly turned into the love expert, crossing his legs before leaning further on the table.

Taehyung raised a brow, amused by Jimin’s facade. He hesitated whether or not to answer, but Tae guessed there was no harm in doing so..

“Fine.” He sighed, feeling defeated. Tae’s back sank back into the booth, gaze glued to his thighs to make everything a little more bearable.

“When I think of Jungkook.. I think of asshole.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“An asshole that I’d purposely picked on since third grade.. because I wanted to talk to him. I didn’t know how else to get his attention.”

He fidgeted with his fingers. “I really liked his eyes. Still do. I think that’s the first thing that drew me towards him, physically. But.. the more I talked to him— or picked on him, I learned that he was witty.. and still, such an asshole.” Taehyung chuckled, taking a small pause. “I like assholes, though—“

“Figuratively and literally, huh?” Hoseok wiggled his brows.

“Hyung, please shut up.” Tae glared at him, shaking his head before continuing. “Anyways. I guess Jungkook can be kind. He’s dorky. He’s pretty..”

When he felt himself begin to blush, that’s when Taehyung stopped. Truth is he had a lot more to say, but it’d probably take the whole night.

Tae continued to drink his milkshake, looking at the table instead of at his smiling hyungs.

“Okay..” Jimin tried hard not to giggle. “What about you, Jungkookie? What do you think of Tae?”

Jungkook was already a flustered mess at the way Taehyung had suddenly opened up and verbalize his feelings in a manner that the younger has never heard. ever. Even if it included the word asshole at least four times.

Nobody has ever said such things about him, and for that person to be Kim Taehyung.... Was this real life? Jungkook had to squeeze his thigh to make sure it was.

''What about you, Jungkookie? What do you think of Tae?'' Jimin suddenly caught the youngest's attention with his singsong voice.

''I hated him, and lo-... liked him at the same time,'' Jungkook pauses, his hands holding on to his own thighs to keep himself grounded. He really was such a mess of emotions, even though he rarely wanted to speak out about them,

''He's blunt... honest, and even if he was an asshole to me this entire time, he never pitied me...'' It was an important fact, that he wasnt treated like a fragile butterfly by everyone simply because of everything hes been through. And the fact that Tae wasnt aware of his struggles, was only a good thing.

''Just... I feel safe with him.'' Jungkook nods to confirm his own words, a soft smile pulling on his lips at the memory of Taehyung literally running, dropping everything to come get him when he needed it.

''And... I let him pick on me all this time, because I enjoyed it..'' Kook made a face, it probably sounded weird to say, ''I didn't think he'd give me any other kind of attention, and since I liked him, it was good enough.''

Another pause, the boys' mouths hanging open as they are completely focused on what the youngest was saying, Hoseok clutching his chest at the moment,

''He just makes me feel safe, and that he cares.. in his own way...And he's always been really easy on the eyes.''

If he was still munching on his greasy nuggets, Taehyung was sure that he would’ve actually choked on them. 

At the moment, he settled for biting on his straw. Anything to not unglue his eyes from the table. He felt the tip of his ears turn red, as well as the apples of his cheeks.

Why did this have to uncover with their hyungs present..? But then again, Tae thanked the lords that Jimin opened up his mouth.

If it wasn’t for the smaller boy, he would’ve never been able to fawn over Jungkook’s words. Even if he didn’t show it.

“It’s getting kinda late..” Taehyung looked at his invisible watch, glancing up at Kook for the second time. 

Tae was still shy, but he didn’t like to admit it.

“You ready to go?” The elder tried to not let his voice waver, still sipping on his milkshake as a distraction.

Jungkook quickly nodded, his cheeks feeling just as hot from this entire situation of exposure,

''Yeah.''

He wobbled up on his legs, bowing to his hyungs as he waited for Taehyung to follow suit, ''Uh, see you guys tomorrow.'' Kook murmured, his eyes not failing to notice the group of boys wearing various versions of a smile on their lips, others more surprised still by this entire thing.

As Taehyung got up with him, they walked side by side to exit the McDonalds, heading towards the car. As soon as Kook was able to sit down inside of the vehicle, isolated from the outside world together with Tae, he let out a deep, relieved sigh, that contained all of his anxiety that he'd held in the entire dinner. All of this information is still a lot to process, yet not that hard to digest.

Taehyung did like him.

He glanced over at the elder as he sat down carefully, kook internally blaming himself for the soreness in tae's body.

''I don't think I've ever seen you so flustered.''

“Shut up..” The elder timidly grinned, “Kim Taehyung doesn’t get flustered.”

He carefully sat his treasured strawberry shake in the cup holder, moving around in his seat until he found a position that his butt was happy with.

Tae’s body was still so sore..

“So I’m easy on the eyes, hm?” The boy decided it was his turn to tease Kook, resting his head back against the headrest whilst he stared out of the window.

He didn’t feel like driving right now; the sky looked too beautiful to ignore.

All of the stars had seemed to come out from their hiding spots and shine down on them.

Namjoon and the rest of the group had already left, which left the pair alone in the McDonald’s parking lot.

Jungkook breathed out a chuckle through his nose, leaning towards the window to enjoy the view. The stars surely were bright tonight, and it was beautiful.

Something about seeing all those stars made Jungkook feel so small, and it calmed him down.

''Yeah, you are.'' He murmured, his big doe eyes in awe at the bright night sky, the glimmer in the distanced orbs of fire reflecting into his dark eyes,

He could feel words stuck on his tongue, he wanted to ask... Indulging in the small silence for another moment, he decides to just... say it,

''I really... really like you.''

Instead of looking at the stars in the sky, Taehyung stared at the star next to him, his twinkling eyes slightly enlarging from Kook’s abrupt confession.

“Jungkook..” The elder gulped,  overthrown by different emotions all at once.

Happiness, scared, fear, embarrassment...pride. It was overwhelming, but just enough for Taehyung to still endure it.

“I really.. really, really fucking like you too.” He admitted for the second time that night, feeling a clench in his chest.

Leaning over from his seat, Tae rested a hand on Jungkook’s thigh to balance himself before kissing the faint scar on the boy’s cheek, pulling away to gaze into his eyes.

Fuck, this was so cheesy. But maybe cheesy wasn’t all that bad..

Jungkook turned to face Taehyung the second after he felt the soft warmth of his lips against his cheek, his big doe eyes staring into the eyes of the very man that's been the culprit of stealing his heart. 

A wave of every single emotion he was capable of feeling swirled in his chest, washed away from the small, simple touch of Taehyung's lips on his cheek-- leaving nothing but affection left to stay.

''Do you...'' he pauses, his hand settling on top of Taehyung's hand settled on his thigh, nervously smoothing his thumb over the elders knuckles, his eyes flickering between Tae's,

''Want to date me? Like... be my..'' He couldn't finish his sentence, it felt like his heart was about to burst through his ribcage. He's never felt so nervous about asking someone out before. Honestly, he's never asked somebody out before. How the fuck to people do this frequently?

“Be your..?” For the first time in a while, Taehyung giggled from the butterflies roaming freely in his stomach. 

Who would’ve thought that Jeon Jungkook would be asking him out in the McDonald’s parking lot?

Tae wouldn’t have it any other way. The setting was perfect, even if Jungkook hadn’t gone all out. After all, everything was so sudden. 

The elder preferred this much more, just the two of them.. 

“Your boyfriend? Your friend? Your fuck buddy?”

At this moment, Taehyung indulged himself in the present. Their problematic past didn’t matter, and he was sure that their future would be fine.

Even though the whole dating scheme was new to him, Tae was willing to give it his all.

The latter still couldn’t believe it.. How did a rough, lust-filled night turn into something so sweet?

Taehyung would never forget this moment; he wouldn’t allow it.

Jungkook couldn't help but let out a snort at Taehyung's words, scrunching his nose as a toothy grin adorned his lips,

''All of the above. Do you want to be my boyfriend?'' He finally had the courage to say it, finally, officially ask him the big question. To clarify whatever this was once and for all.

With a restrained nod of his head, Taehyung broke the unwanted distance between their lips.

He kissed Jungkook sweetly, only focusing on how soft he felt against his mouth.

The other hand that wasn’t placed on the boy’s thigh was cupping his face, drawing Kook deeper into the kiss.

When Taehyung finally pulled away, a string of saliva still connected the two of them together, that’s when Tae voiced out his answer.

“Yeah, I do. ‘M not too sure about the fuck buddy part though..” The elder hummed playfully, stealing another peck before situating himself back on his seat.

McDonald’s suddenly had a /whole/ different meaning..

He was indeed ‘Lovin’ It.’

“Okay, we should go now.” As if he was still in a trance, Taehyung started his car. 

The boy took one last look at the stars, and then at Jungkook, wanting to engrave this corny moment in his head.

When he felt like he’d saved the mental image, Tae happily drove off towards Kook’s apartment.

Jungkook nods, unable to wipe the dumb smile off his face, feeling like a giddy child on christmas.

During the somewhat silent drive, all he heard was the rumbling of the car engine, and Kook took every chance he got to glance over at Taehyung in between watching the streetlights flash by.

He felt good, free.. Happy...For the first time in who knows how long.

Jungkook had a boyfriend.

A real boyfriend.

He almost vibrated in his seat at the thought.

“Okay, get out of my car, Kook.” Taehyung joked once he’d parked in front of Jungkook’s apartment, part of him not wanting to say goodbye quite yet.

But, he should. His father was probably home, ‘worrying’ to death about his son’s whereabouts this late into the night.

Yeah, that was funny.

No, Tae just needed to get home to save himself from a beating. It was weird, really..

His father gave zero shits about him, yet he still demanded he was home by a specific time.

Taehyung just hoped that he was passed out drunk. He wanted to sneak up to his room and replay the day’s events all over again.

“Hey..” He hesitantly wrapped his fingers around Jungkook’s wrist, tugging at his arm.

With a quick look at their surroundings, making sure that no one else was around, Taehyung finally looked back at the younger once again.

“Are you really going to leave me without a kiss?”

Tae was serious, he wanted a good night’s smooch from, well.. his boyfriend.

It still felt weird to say that, or even think it.. 

But, something told him he’d get used to it pretty quick.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows when Taehyung said those words. It really was so new to head and see him act this way... but kook liked it. His heart felt so light when he leaned back in to place a soft kiss on Taehyung's lips, letting it linger for a little longer. He wishes he could just bring the elder in with him, but... his parents must worry about him. 

Now that kook thinks about it, he doesn’t really know much about Taehyung's personal life— except for, well, being a part of it himself now.

Either way, the night had to come to an end.

“Goodnight, Taehyungie..” Jungkook brushed Tae’s fringe away from his eyes before placing one last, chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow~”

Kook opened the door, stepping out of the car and walking up to his front door, all while glancing back at his boyfriend over his shoulder before shooting a wide smile, followed with a small wave. 

He really could get used to this. 

One last look at the car, and kook decided it was time to head inside, it was way too cold to stand and say goodbye for too long, he just wanted to go sleep, so that he’d be able to see taehyung tomorrow again.

After waving back at Jungkook, Tae drove off to his house with a smile temporarily sketched on his face, still feeling the soft touch of Kook’s lips on his. Still replaying the boy’s nervous confession in his head.

He was so happy.. 

The happiest he’s been in months, really.

And all because of the male he’d once despised, or pretended to.

Could the night get any better? Taehyung doubted it, Jungkook wasn’t by his side.

“Ah shit,” He disappointedly sighed to himself, scolding his cheesy thoughts.

“Is this what a relationship does to you..”

Grabbing the half-empty milkshake, Tae brought the chewed-up straw up to his lips before carefully opening the front door. 

He peeked his head inside, quietly  stepping in when he realized that his father was passed out on the couch, some show playing on the TV.

After taking off his shoes, Taehyung was about to tiptoe his way up the stairs when the snoring had come to a sudden stop. Confused, he looked back into the living room.

His father had woken up from his slumber, drowsily surveying around the room when his piercing eyes landed on Taehyung.

“Son..” The older man slurred, still  dressed in his work suit as he approached Tae on unsteady feet.

He was drunk.

“How was school?”

He was very drunk.

Taehyung clenched his jaw, “It’s 11:23 at night, dad.”

Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to be in one of his moods. He was out of it.

Tae hated himself for worrying.

“Ah.. well, it was a very long school day.” With a soft chuckle, he stumbled back into the kitchen, aiming for the fridge.

Taehyung saw this and he quickly followed after him, knowing what he was searching for.

The man tried taking a hold of another beer when Tae stopped him, softly taking a hold of his wrist so as to not anger him.

“Dad.. I think you’ve had enough, okay? Uh, maybe tomorrow.”

The older man scoffed, pulling himself away from Taehyung’s hold.

“I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want.” 

His fingers itched to touch the cold bottle, but Taehyung was there to stop him. Again.

“What’s your problem?!” He grew annoyed, angry with Taehyung for trying to control him.

Just like him, Tae grew annoyed as well.

“What’s my problem?” He repeated, as if it wasn’t already obvious enough.

“My problem is that you can’t see you’re a fucking alcoholic! That’s my problem.” Taehyung’s chest heaved, already over the edge.

“Why— Just why can’t you see that shit is killing you? You’re obli-“ Before he knew it, his body fell to the floor.

His father had thrown a punch to his jaw, causing Tae to lose his balance.

He’d banged his head pretty hard, and when Taehyung finally took complete notice of what was happening, it was already too late. 

The older man sat on top of him, repeatedly pounding his fist into his face, eyes dark like the devil’s.

Taehyung groaned in pain, taking the hits. He was too frail to try and defend himself, so he didn’t.

“P-Please..” The boy weakly begged, fresh blood oozing down his face. 

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction.

“Next time you think about telling me what to do, don’t.” With one last harsh kick to his stomach, his father left him alone on the kitchen floor, bleeding and shaking.

Taehyung’s gaze was empty, dull.. lifeless. Every emotion was drained. 

A tear rolled down the side of his eye, and he didn’t bother wiping it away.

His father was gone, he could cry. It was okay.

Minutes later, Taehyung dozed off to sleep, too weak to bandage his wounds.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Jungkook had a completely different night compared to Taehyung, spending it giddy, replaying the events of their entire day at least a thousand times before he managed to actually fall asleep. 

He really wished that he could have fallen asleep with Taehyung, and this time wake up next to him as well. Hopefully that would be a reality soon enough.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.