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archetypal-archivist · 4 years ago

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Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone

So this builds off of the whole "Tommy has somehow found himself on Hermitcraft after the exile arc" thing that got really popular with @redorich and @petrichormeraki on tumblr. Basically it's an excuse to give Tommy therapy and 20+ parent figures. One thing that's a common thread in those stories is that Tommy is shocked that Hermitcraft has infinite respawns and all of the hermits are quick to reassure him that he really won't perma-die in their world. And I had the thought- well, what if he wasn't in their world anymore? And thus came forth 1500+ words of angst~

It begins like this. Evil X is stuck in the void, alone and with no one to talk to. He misses daylight, he misses touch, he misses hearing voices other than his own. One day, he sees something get shot through the void as if by slingshot, leaving a trail of code in its wake, tethering the whatever it is back the way it came. This is Tommy, and while he begins to get adjusted to Hermitcraft and company, Evil X watches as the string of code begins to imprint itself into the void, and eventually learns that he can interact with it, albeit only on the most superficial of levels. On Tommy's end, he slowly begins to heal from his time spent in the war zone that is the Dream SMP, making fast friends with Grian and several of the other hermits in the process. He goes pranking with his newest, winged older brother figure, laughs at the antics of Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, builds a cobblestone tower with BDubs, etc. But for all that he's healing, such a process isn't linear. No one on the server can truly understand just what sort of stuff he has been through, and so he often finds himself alone, trying to deal with his wildest emotions by talking to himself.

One day, however, a little voice in his head starts talking back. It's rough and gravelly and not very nice at first, but it's faint enough that he chalks it up to his imagination and moves on with his life. He follows Stress around like a duckling for a day, plays squire for Welsknight, and has a roaring panic attack after an unfortunate spar with False leads to him getting flashbacks to the Pit with Technoblade. He retreats back to his tower for a good cry, and in the midst of his tears, he hears the voice again. This time it's a bit nicer, sounding unsure and a bit panicky as it tries to encourage him to stop crying, god this is awkward, kid, it'll be fine. Wait, are you a kid? You seem tall for a munchkin.

This time, Tommy knows that it isn't his imagination, but half of his old server seemed to have voices in their heads so he really isn't all that alarmed that he seemed to have developed one of his own too. And he does something that no one else does when Evil X reaches out- he starts talking back. It's rough going, at first, especially since both of them have abrasive personalities, but eventually they settle into a rough estimation of friendship that means more to them then they are willing to say. From Evil X's perspective, this is the first time someone has actually listened to him and hasn't been turned away by his violent streak, his bad manners, and lack of proper social skills. For Tommy, this is a chance to vent to someone who seems to understand his pain. It helps that neither of them are inclined to ask too many questions. Tommy, on his part, has no clue that Evil X is an actual person and not a voice in his head, while Evil X can't bring himself to ask why Tommy has left a trail of code in the void and why it's all so glitched. He especially fears asking about the perma-death clause that seems to naturally have occurred in his code.

He will come to regret this choice.

The day is like any other, at first. He begins his day with a slice of sweet melon and then flies off to whatever hermits are awake at the time to "share a meal with them." Really, it started as an excuse to make sure that Tommy was eating at least one meal day, even in his most dissociative of states, but has since turned into an opportunity to eat weird things in front of people to see their reactions. (Etho is his favorite. He's always up early and half the time, asks to try a bite of whatever Tommy is having. They both agree that spider eyes taste a lot like sour boba.) From there it's off to the shopping district to restock his dirt shop and claim his share of the profits from the hole-digging service he runs with Grian. After that, there's just enough time to complete an order or two and collect more cobble and dirt before he has to meet up with Grian to go on their biweekly End Busting session. The two usually have a lot of fun as they go about it, Tommy jokingly shoving Grian off the platform only for his adopted brother to catch himself and fly up to join him on the narrow platform spanning the emptiness once again. Every once in a while, Grian mock-threatens to do the same in return, but he knows better than to actually attempt it after he did it once and had had to catch Tommy when he started screaming and even after they had gotten back to solid ground, he wouldn't stop for the better part of half an hour.

On habits die hard, after all. Tommy may have been told time and time again by everyone on the server that infinite respawns are a thing, yes really, but he still has a hard time believing it. He actually has a rather insane number of levels racked up- even more than Xisuma, which is impressive- because in all the months that he has been on Hermitcraft, he hasn't died once. It's a combination of survival skills taught to him by Philza and his own paranoia which has kept him alive for so long, and most of the hermits agree that it is rather impressive, if not entirely healthy for him to be so scared of dying. (Doc once offered to kill him as evidence that yes, it really is safe here and you will respawn, but for all that death by crazy redstone machine might of been cool, Tommy took a hard pass on that. Grian low key took exception to Doc offering to kill his adopted little brother, really man? Not cool.)

Anyway, Grian and Tommy meet up in the End and start off bridging with the insane amount of cobble that Tommy has stored up. Usually Tommy is in front, placing the stones, and Grian is in back, watching out for any sign of a slip up, but this time they decide to switch it up a bit, head in a new direction, play around with who's doing what this time. It ends... poorly. They bridge out into the black, on and on and on, farther into the void than they ever have before. Slowly, the islands of floating white stone stop appearing with such frequency, but they become larger in size and stranger in shape. Every once in a while Grian will see what he swears to be a glowing white mountain of Endstone in the distance, although Tommy calls bullshit each and every time. They chalk it all up to bad luck and going nuts from boredom, but really, neither one of them knows how to quit while they're ahead. As the islands disappear altogether and all that remains to orient themselves is the tenuous lifeline of cobblestone beneath their feet, the unthinkable happens.

Grian slips. And Tommy, taught compassion by the very world that will now kill him, reaches out to save him.

For one, brief moment, the two brothers clasp hands- and then Grian's weight pulls Tommy right over the edge and down, down, down into the void below.

Grian fell out of the world.

Tommy fell out of the world... and into a new one.

----

Xisuma wakes up late that day. He's been doing that a lot, if he's honest, given how late he's staying up most nights finishing up builds and the like. Those hours of sleep have to come from somewhere, after all, and he's far from an early bird. He gives into the impulse to relax a bit, drinking some tea sweetened with just enough honey to rot his teeth, and then heads off to his computer room to start up his duties as admin for the day. It's the red lights that alert him to something being wrong, and at first, he thinks it's just one of hermits' cam accounts being buggy again. Perhaps it got shut off while the hermit was bridging through the void and the hermit in question simply hadn't retrieved it yet? But who would name their cam account Tommyinnit? The looming dread sits cold in his gut as he flicks his fingers to open up his admin panel... Best to check, just in case.

The death messages are clear enough- Keralis had just perished to a ravager yesterday, likely Tango's from Decked Out if he had to guess. Zedaph had been slain by a piglin twenty minutes ago. And Grian and Tommy had fallen into the void. But if that were the case... why had only one of them respawned?

On Grian's part, he comes to with a lingering chill deep in his bones and an awful headache. The bed underneath him is warm and the sheets are a soft rosy color, likely one of the ones in Scar's magical village if the persistent smell of spruce is anything to go by. He winces against the light filtering through the window and turns to the side, squinting at where Tommy had placed his blue bed right next to his, apology on his lips for his stupid mistake. The sheets are undisturbed. Huh. That's weird, he could have sworn that he and Tommy had set their respawn points at the same time. Maybe Tommy had just forgotten and he was back in his base or at spawn? Grian rises to his feet slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the colors and sounds of the Overworld, then flaps his wings and takes off to go looking for his Tommy.

He doesn't find him.

---

The reactions to Tommy's "death" are many and varied, although for the most part, the hermits are split into two camps- those that think Tommy is gone for good, and those that think he may still be out there somewhere. For the first few days of Tommy's disappearance, most everyone is in the latter camp. Xisuma spends hours upon hours scanning the code, becoming increasingly more frazzled and terrified as his lack of sleep gets to him. Tango and Doc join him in the endeavor, although none of them have any luck or are able to spot the piece of code that caused the problem. No additions, no changes to the text, nothing. Grian leads the other team, those who set out on foot and one wing and with pick in hand to scour the world for their youngest charge, taken from them too soon. They begin in a grid pattern, setting out in ones and twos to search the whole world, but as the distance increases, the neat, orderly flyovers turn into frenzied boosting as panic starts to get the better of them. Some of them hold onto their composure better than others, but Grian ends up flying over the same patch of forest three times because he can't see for his tears. False, Impulse, Welsknight, and Beef cross the Nether, fighting their way into Bastion after Bastion and leaving Nether portals in their wake. In their tracks comes the fliers- Grian, Ren, Iskall, and BDubs. Each one takes a portal and does a sweep through the corresponding patch of Overworld before picking a direction to continue the search. Cubfan, iJevin, and Scar take to the seas, Mumbo, Stress, xB, and Zedaph to the End, Etho down into the depths of the caves below. Strangely enough, there are a few hermits who don't join the search- Keralis, who got the unlucky task of taking care of Xisuma and the others searching through the code, Tinfoilchef, who doesn't provide a reason but everyone gives him a pass because of his age, and Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo, who refuse to explain themselves.

Eventually, the searches dry up. Eventually, some of the hermits admit defeat. Hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, down to the bedrock below, beneath sea and sky and every place that lacks the sun. How far is too far? For Xisuma, enough is enough. Tommy is dead. The search is over.

He stops looking. And soon, others do the same.

And the tone of the server... shifts.

For the first time that any of them can remember, a person has perma-died. Sure, they've all heard the rumors, of servers where infinite respawns is not the norm, of servers where the world glitched and a creeper is supercharged enough to damage a player down to their code. But they'd never thought that one of their own would be on the receiving end of such a curse. And to the hermits, the possibility of dying themselves suddenly becomes all too real. The constant flying is the first to go, and for those that insist on it anyway (outside of Grian, who has wings), checking the elytras' durability becomes more than just a habit. Eating spider eyes and other junk is out of the question, now it's golden apples or nothing. The Nether is all but abandoned, as is the End, and everyone on the server either groups up so that they are never alone, or retreats into their bases, becoming true hermits befitting of their server's name.

The joy that had once been so characteristic of the server is gone, and in the hearts of all, there lingers the dread that any one of them might be next- although, there are still those that hold on to hope that Tommy may not be as gone as he seems.

---

The hermits who think Tommy is dead for good and have stopped searching: Doc, Etho, Xisuma, Welsknight, Grian, BDubs, Cubfan, TinfoilChef, Stress, False, Iskall.

The hermits who think Tommy is still out there, alive if still missing, and that the search should continue: Keralis, Mumbo, Tango, Vintage Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, Joe Hills, Zombie Cleo, Scar, Rendog, xB.

Doc and Etho are old. They don't like to admit it, but they've been around since the beginning, back when players were first learning how to jump servers and communicator technology was undergoing its first upgrade. They've seen a lot and know well by now that dead is dead. Tommy is dead. All that is left to do is mourn and move on, and they have shed their tears already. Call them cold for it, but in the face of a kind of drive that can keep a man going after his entire server has burnt down around his ears (Mindcrack will be missed), they know they need to keep moving forward. There are enough broken messes on the server these days, and it is through their efforts that shops remain stocked and the torches don't burn out. They hold onto normalcy with an iron grip and hope that some day, the rest of the hermits will join them in rationality.

Stress too has a comparatively healthy approach to all of this. She doesn't want it to be true, god no, but so far everything is pointing in the direction of Tommy being dead for good. She eats a couple dozen bowls of ice cream, has a some good cries, doesn't leave her base for a week, and even afterwards she can't bring herself to wear pink for a while. But she's mourning. She's accepted things. She lets her heart break, and as time passes, she lets herself heal. And that's enough for her.

Scar is of the opinion that Tommy is still out there, and while he clings to that hope with all his might, it's fragile and Cub just knows that his best friend is going to be cut to pieces when that hope inevitably breaks. So he takes Scar aside for a quiet conversation, to break his heart before the world can break it for him. Afterwards, Scar stops talking about Tommy as if he's coming back, but his smile is never as bright as it was before. And Cub's heart breaks too.

Team ZIT swings the exact opposite way as the rest and are firmly of the belief that permadeath is impossible and thus Tommy must be alive. The three of them aren’t known for their impulse control at the best of times, and with so many hermits having given up, the trio is rightfully vicious about the fact that the others, in their eyes, have abandoned their friend. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all kind of feed into one another and start doing lots of dangerous stunts, as if daring the universe to permakill them and prove them wrong. If one of them does something, the other two join in and escalate things, which gets impossibly dangerous very, very fast. Tango is furious, Impulse is bitter, and Zedaph is straight up heartbroken that his other friends would give up on another of their number. They do things like fly incredibly high, go cliff jumping in the Nether only to catch themselves at the last minute, and sprint across the End bridges. If they have doubts, they never voice them. Even when Tango feels like he’s burning up from the inside and wonders at his newfound hate. Even when Impulse is utterly terrified but goes along with things anyway because Tango is doing it and he can’t bear to leave a friend alone. Even when Zedaph looks at his friends and can’t help but feel scared of and for these strangers wearing the faces he knows so well. Even then.

Team ZIT often gets dragged into and starts lots of screaming fights with the other hermits who believe Tommy is dead, especially Doc, BDubs, xB, and False. False especially gets vicious, as while pvp is no longer permitted on the server, her tongue is as sharp as any blade. She believes firmly that the others are trampling on Tommy’s memory by insisting that he isn’t dead and she is determined to make them stop. And if they refuse to give up their foolishness? Well, all she might have left is her words but with them she will make them bleed.

xB and Vintage Beef are as close to neutral as you are going to get from those that get into regular arguments. xB thinks Tommy is dead until proven otherwise, while Beef thinks the exact reverse. As some of the more chill hermits, they often get dragged in to play negotiator so that the fights don’t turn physical. And some days, when someone says something particularly hurtful, they’ll close themselves up in one of xB’s bunkers and drink until they can no longer remember why they ought to be enemies. It’s hardly healthy, but they both agree that it’s better this way. Better to forget than to hurt, after all.

Grian is… somewhat the same. Sort of. He was traumatized by Tommy, the boy he adopted as his little brother, dying before his eyes, and he can’t help but blame himself. That is, when he can remember that Tommy is dead at all. After the fall, Grian’s mind was badly broken and he couldn’t accept that his little brother was dead for the longest time. He fell into two weeks of deep depression, barely eating or drinking, and eventually Iskall came and took care of him when he realized that he hadn’t seen his buddy in ages. Iskall nursed Grian back to health, only to feel his heart shatter in his breast when Grian turned to him, eyes feverishly bright and tone childlike, asking where Tommy was. The winged man’s mind couldn’t cope with the loss so it had shut down entirely, making him forget the tragedy that had occured. Iskall had deflected then, frantically trying to figure out what to say, but after a few days of Grian wandering about in a dreamlike state, his memory came back to him and he collapsed in on himself once more. The winged hermit is now locked in a loop of this, while poor Iskall is stuck trying to keep his friend alive and relatively sane.

Iskall, for his part, thinks Tommy is well and truly dead. In part because of his own certainty, in part because anything else would be even crueler for Grian. He doesn’t resent his friend for his break downs, just quietly bundles him up and clutches him close, coaxing him to eat and bathe, to put down the guilt and realize that it’ll be okay, the world won’t end with Tommy gone. He gently tries to nudge Grian down that path of acceptance of Tommy’s fate, and though he faces many setbacks, he tackles each one with a special kind of patience born of platonic love. They’re bros, despite everything. It’s only right.

Mumbo is, weirdly enough, on the side of Tommy being alive. Iskall doesn’t exactly approve and while he and Mumbo sometimes get into whispered arguments over it, they try to keep their little disagreements from Grian. Both of them only want to see their friend happy again, and will do just about anything to make it happen. For Mumbo, this means putting together crazy redstone contraptions to try and find Tommy again, as he’s certain that Grian’s little brother is still out there somewhere- and he has a piece that might prove it. Iskall comes over one day, face drawn and haggard from a night of soothing Grian through another set of screaming nightmares, only to find Mumbo waist high in redstone wiring, all hooked up to a strange portal design that looks too much like Doc’s infinity portal from season 6 for comfort. At the top of the arch is Tommy’s compass, needle whirling about like a hurricane, and while the portal isn’t lit, it does give off a faint blue-black glow. Iskall is frightened that Mumbo is tampering with something that could get him killed and Mumbo rushes to reassure him that no, the compass was specifically linked to Tommy so if Tommy was really dead, it would have been reset, right? He’s merely borrowing that tie to try and figure out where the two ends lead. Iskall is less than sure about this, especially since Mumbo is just as drawn and pale as he is, if a bit more covered in redstone, but they agree that fighting is pointless. They care about each other and about Grian too much to put any of them through that sort of pain- and besides, there’s more than enough fighting on the server already.

Ren too thinks that Tommy is alive and he is one of the ones who gets into regular fights. He’s a lover, not a fighter, but something about this whole situation just burns him up. When the pressure gets too much, he goes flying, tracing over those old familiar trails they searched so long ago, trying to see if there is anything they missed. There never is.

Welsknight has made his peace with Tomy’s death, though the server tends to forget that he and Tommy were closer than most. He alone knew that Tommy was once upon a time a boy called Theseus (a name given to him shyly when Tommy had asked him if there were any great heroes with that name that didn’t die). He alone knew Tommy’s love for horses, or that he would spend hours whispering horror stories to them when he thought no one would hear. Tommy was his squire, and although he had accepted the tragedy, he still wept for the hurt it brought him. He alone knew of the little grave he had dug under the willow tree in his castle courtyard and the headstone he had placed there, engraved with Tommy’s true name, death date, and supposed date of birth. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every morning at dawn, Welsknight brings a bouquet of flowers to that little grave and says a prayer before disappearing into the morning fog. The flowers are always the same- forget me nots, for remembrance, violets, for devotion, and clover. (Think of me).

Tinfoilchef stays out of it- always has and always will. He’s too old to rush about searching or to feel as wildly as the others do. He feels, of course, but more so as the mountain does, steady and strong despite the winds that tear at its surface. Tommy is dead, but then, so are many of the people he has known in his life. It’s best to just keep plodding along.

BDubs is a mess. He had never spoken of it, but long before he had come to hermitcraft, he had had a daughter- a beautiful baby girl whose heart was too big for her chest, and she had died for that difference. He had grieved for years, but eventually the peace of the hermitcraft server had left him soothed, if a bit different than before. Tommy had been another chance at fatherhood, not that he could ever bear to call the teen that, even in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he had taught the kid to build cobblestone towers that weren’t entirely offensive (if shaped a bit oddly) and had been the first to volunteer any time Grian was out and Tommy needed a place to spend the night when the nightmares were particularly fierce. They had so many fun sleepovers like that, and staring at those awful cobble towers in the distance, BDubs can’t help but bawl his eyes out at the memories. He waffles between taking the towers down or leaving them up- they really are ugly, and the feelings in his chest that they inspire are even more so, but somehow, he can’t bear to see them gone. Instead, he dries his eyes, flies off to grab a shulker of cobble, and sets about adding a few more to their number. A final remembrance for the boy he would have gladly claimed as his own, if only he hadn’t been too late. (He ends up building a lot more than a few).

Joe and Cleo are somehow the only ones who are actually neutral in the whole mess. Whenever they are asked their opinion on if Tommy is truly dead or not, the pair simply smile mysteriously and refuse to comment. Joe always seems to know more than he lets on and Cleo is his closest confidant, after all. Despite the anger and tears directed their way for refusing to commit to either side, the two keep their silence. (They know the truth of the matter, after all. Everything will be okay in time).

Xisuma has given up. Tommy is dead, and there is nothing he can do but spend days and days going over the code with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the glitch that cut the life of their youngest member short. Keralis takes it upon himself to take care of his long time friend, but it’s not an easy task, not when the other is so determined to make sure that such an incident never happens again. And Keralis can’t find it in himself to complain, especially since he is laboring under the impression that Xisuma agrees that Tommy is still out there and is trying to find him. It is only when Keralis mentions it in an aside, thanking the admin for his dedication, that Xisuma breaks the illusion and explains. Tommy isn’t just dead, he says tiredly, his very presence is well and truly wiped from the world’s code. All that is left of him is the faint impression his code had left behind, and trying to read it and understand what went wrong is a bit like trying to read small letters that have been drawn out in dry sand. Even for a voidwalker like himself such a task is near impossible, and Xisuma can only do so much. The needs of the many above the needs of the few- best to secure those he can now than worry over those that are gone beyond his reach. And Keralis can’t help but look at his friend with new eyes, a fleeting sense of betrayal in his heart. He had thought better of his Shishwammy, and he says as much.

He cries while Xisuma watches on in solemn, mournful silence.

---

TBC :)

#hermitcraft #minecraft #fanfiction #dream smp #hermit tommy au #angst #My writing #i'm proud of this one

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ijenoyou · 4 years ago

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It’s you again. one.

bucky barnes x stark!reader.

summary; when Bucky sees you again a few months after the blip he can’t help but remember his past lover.

warnings; spoilers from the serie hehe prob angst & fluff ig lol mentions of tony’s death

notes; soooo it’s been a while since i’ve written something sooo this might suck ass lol anyways remember english isn’t my first language sooo yeah enjoy :D

You were too tired to keep your eyes open, your body kept on swaying until you finally gave up making your head land on Bucky’s shoulder. His conversation with Sam getting interrupted when he felt your arms hug his metal arm.

Sharon had a smirk on her face and decided to start getting prepared for a meeting she had. “I have stuff to do so why don’t you guys enjoy the party? And don’t cause any trouble.” She said before leaving the room.

Sam stood up and began walking towards the door with Zemo following him. “You coming?” He asked his new partner.

“Uh, yeah, just let me lay her down.” Bucky answered and took your head carefully, guiding your body to lay properly on the couch, you were still holding onto his arm so he took one of the matching cushions of the couch and gave it to you so your arms could let go of his.

He took his jacket off and decided to cover you with it, making sure your back and arms were under it. He softly smiled and placed a piece of hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t tickle your face.

After that he turned around and saw both Sam and Zemo looking at him a subtle smirk. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you being so gentle.” He mocked gaining a groan from Bucky. “What’s up with that? Since the whole mission started you have been acting weird, is it because of Stark?”

“Depends on which one you’re talking about.” Bucky took one last glance at your sleeping figure.

“Her.”

Sighing, Bucky massaged his temple. “I need a drink first.”

*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡*･ﾟ｡

Back on Zemo’s private jet you decided to give everyone the cold shoulder, angry at them for leaving you without saying anything or at least leaving a note. You could’ve helped them with the hundreds of mercenaries that attacked them. Zemo placed a plate with food on it in front of you and gave you a small smile, trying to make you feel at ease.

Walking down the street with Zemo like nothings wrong made you feel on edge. Thinking that maybe the new copy of Steve would appear and make things harder but you kept on wishing that it wouldn’t be the case. Zemo lead the group to a unknown building.

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky said out of nowhere.

“Take Y/N with you, don’t what could happen.” Sam said and took your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “Sam, he can take care of himself.” Taking his hand off your shoulder you began walking to the buildings door, leaving everyone behind.

“See you guys in a bit.”

He came back after a few minutes and started talking about how the wakandians are looking for Zemo.

All of this mess made you wonder why were you there in the first place. Sure, you had nothing to do since your father died and also coming back after 5 years, didn’t help at all. But maybe you were there because Sam called, he was the only one who tried to search for you when you decided to disappear.

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo’s voice brought you back into reality after watching their whole conversation and play it on your mind.

“What’s a TT?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Whatever, we need to get moving.” Sam spoke dismissing the question you made.

You weren’t sure if the plan would work, searching for Donya was harder that you could think of and it definitively made you wonder what could go wrong if anyone from the group made a mistake. And losing your powers didn’t help the situation at all. But that’s a secret. Nobody knows you lost them and the most important thing, nobody knows you’re slowly dying. So maybe that’s one of the reasons you decided to help Sam, doing a last mission until your body gives up. You just hoped you get to finish the mission and not die in the middle of it.

But now, you had to worry about another thing. And that is John Walker, getting himself in things he doesn’t understand nor is involved in. Waiting for Sam next to him wasn’t the best moment in your life, the only thing you could do was stare at him with dislike written on your face.

Feelings like your skins burned you decided to start rubbing the sides of your neck and Bucky didn’t let that pass through blind eyes.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks with a bit of concern filling his voice.

“Uh, yeah.” You cleared your throat. “I’m probably getting sick, don’t worry.”

Before Bucky could say anything else, Walker decided to put the mission on risk and walk inside the building Sam and Karli were having a conversation. You extended your hand to hold John by the shoulder.

“Why don’t you go and take a seat? You’re going to ruin the plan if you walk inside.” You spoke, trying to hold in the pain and burning under your skin.

John pushed you and entered the building.

And just like that, the whole situation became a mess. Ruining and shouting, the only thing you had become used to in these days.

The Dora Milaje were now your only solution. And they definitely know how to make a good entrance.

“Why don’t you relax pal?” You said to John before he gets himself hurt by the Dora Milaje, but it was too late, he placed his hand on Ayo’s shoulder. Big mistake.

You decided to sit back and watch them fight, you and Zemo exchanged looks, you gave him a nod, letting him go to the bathroom and possibly run away.

“I told you to relax, it’s what you deserve for being an ass.” You spoke with mock towards John.

Before the Dora Milaje could leave, Ayo turned her head to you and extended her hand, which was holding a stick, just like the ones the Dora Milaje use but it looked different.

“Here, Shuri told me to give it to you.” You took it and placed on your back.

Now it was only Sam, Bucky and you.

You were too tired to keep going, there’s was no point in being there without powers, you could barely fight and it made you angry. But what made you feel even worse is that you didn’t know what was causing it and seeing your body fill in with different colored lines brought back some bad memories.

Tony was well-know for not sharing his feelings or thoughts. And that made it harder for you to help him. Being at a young age didn’t matter, you did understand what was happening to him, slowly dying by the toxins coming from his reactor.

Seeing the lines in his neck will always haunt you for the rest of your life. The worst part of it is that you couldn’t tell anyone about it, he made you promise not to tell Pepper or Happy and that also caused you some trauma. He made you believe you couldn’t vent out your problems to your family or friends. You didn’t have anyone. Not even Pepper. You decided not to bother her or Morgan with the “My adoptive dad died and I have no one else” act. So it was really hard to say anything to Bucky or Sam, you didn’t want them to know that your body is not the same since you fought against Thanos.

“Go to Sarah’s, I’ll tell her to receive you back at home, okay?” Sam took both of your shoulders. “You don’t look so well, let Buck and I finish this and then call me when you feel better.”

You nodded and decided to leave immediately. Before you could go, Bucky took your arm, grabbing your attention.

“Be careful, if something happens call me immediately.” He said in a serious tone. You pushed his hand off you and muttered a small yes.

Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave your figure until it disappeared behind doors. Sighing he took a seat on the coach.

“I think it’s time for you to tell me what’s happening between you and Y/N.” Sam demanded while crossing his arms.

Nodding, Bucky tapped the seat next to him, indicating Sam to sit there so he could start speaking.

“I’ve known her even before the mess at the airport started.” Bucky started to slowly speak. “Or at least her face.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N, she looks like someone I used to know back in the 40s, her name was Sophia.” He explained with clear pain showing in his eyes. “Sophia and I met while I was preparing to become a soldier, she was a nurse back then.”

“What happened to her?” Sam asked with wonder running in his mind. He wanted to ask more questions about this person.

“Died of old age. I fell in love with her, but never saw Sophie again, after Steve rescued me I tried searching for her but nobody knew what happened to her and just decided not to tell anyone about it.”

“Not even Steve?”

Bucky shook his head and sighed. “When I saw Y/N back at the airport I thought my mind was playing games with me and that’s why I never touched her when Y/N and Tony decided to go against Steve and I.”

Sam patted his friends back, trying to bring him some kind of comfort but it didn’t help.

“And I’m just frustrated because I don’t know why she looks like Sophie, I asked the wakandians if they could find any information about Sophie and they found about her family, she had two kids and one of them had a girl.” Bucky bit his lips, trying to see if he could continue the story.

“You don’t have to tell me everything Buck, if it’s hard for you then you ca—“

Bucky’s voice interrupted him. “It’s fine. You see, everyone knows Tony adopted her, so it felt like there only was one answer. She had to be the daughter of Sophie’s children but then it was another death end. I recently found out that she’s not from Sophie’s family. It’s just fate I guess.”

“Maybe the destiny is giving you another chance to be with her.” Sam tried to give a good answer to him after what he said.

“I don’t think so but if it is that way, then I don’t deserve it”

#bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #marvel scenarios #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader

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nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

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summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #fjord stone imagine #fjord imagine #fjord stone x reader #fjord x reader #fjord stone / reader #fjord / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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gguksgalaxy · 5 years ago

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Inkling | JJK

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

›› AU: Tattoo Artist ›› Genre: Smut / Angst ›› Rating: 18+ explicit sex ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 17.7k Warnings Include: Lots of swearing, conflict, a false accusation of cheating on a third party (it’s nothing serious please trust me), Jungkook being a dick, the death of a coat hanger, mentions of internalised homophobia, fear of coming out, and unaccepting parents. Sexual content: rough (protected) sex, piercings, heavy petting, teasing (with and without other people around), lots of tongue action, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, marking, nipple play, mentions of riding, blowjobs, and mxm sex. A/N: This one is for my beloved friend @xiubaek-13 who’s stood by me and my tumblr journey for over 3 years now. Our friend anniversary was last week, the 16th of January, so it’s a little late. But I hope you still love it. Remember, you gave me this idea, so you shall face the consequences. Enjoy <3

“Like, it’s so unfair,” you groan, arm slung over your face. “He kisses so well. I’m talking toe-curling, spine-arching, breathtakingly good. He really didn’t need to decorate his tongue with a gold medal to celebrate it.” You've replayed the events of Saturday night many times since it happened. The way Jungkook’s hands had slid under your shirt. Your thighs spread over his. Kissing, grabbing, moaning. It really wasn’t fair, the way his tongue pressed into your mouth and made you cave at the very first swipe. The first subtle brush of his golden tongue piercing against your lips. How he—

“Okay, please stop detailing me on what he can do with his tongue and get to the point. If this was just about his amazing tongue skills you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be in his bed.” Hoseok grumbles. “So?” His back is turned to you as he motions for you to continue, busy cleaning his tattoo gun after he touched up your latest piece. A colourful design on the side of your breast and ribs.

It’s one of the reasons you find yourself here. Half your chest out at 8am in Hoseok’s tattoo shop, Inkling. The other reason is being able to vent about his best friend and colleague — Jungkook — without him actually being here.

Jungkook, who had kissed you like he meant it. Fingers sinking deep into the flesh of your thighs. Whose bun had come undone from the way your fingers had slid into his hair. The ink that covers his slightly tanned skin shifting to show defined muscles. The smirk he had every time he’d looked at you — quirking up the left corner of his mouth. His stupidly skilled tongue. The golden tongue piercing that adorns it.

He’d kissed you so hungrily — devoured you — and then he’d gotten up and ran out on you. Leaving you with no proper explanation or goodbye.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve got twenty minutes left to tell me what happened before I go pick him up. Get on with it.” Hoseok finally turns to face you again, grabbing the cream and film to finish up your tattoo. The deep-coloured mandala designs on his elbow shift as he does so. Like all of Hoseok’s tattoos, these are traditionally styled, more simple. Yet, there’s something about every one of his pieces that is uniquely him. Like the small red flower at the hollow of his throat that shifts as he speaks. “What’d he do to you?”

You groan again, lifting your arm a little to give him better access to your side. “I’m not entirely sure really. Like...One second we’re making out and the next he gets up and pushes me off.”

Smoothing the film over your side, he speaks without losing focus. “How drunk was he?” Hoseok isn’t normally this flat in his speech. His mood, much like yours, seems off today.

“Not all that drunk, seen him way worse.” You and Jungkook had both been tipsy, at most. Neither of you made it past more than three drinks before you were all over each other. Hands on bodies. Lips on necks.

It had been a long time coming. The two of you agonisingly ogling each other from a distance for months. That is, if you can call you nearly sitting in his lap every change you get ‘distance’. Even your brother Yoongi had firmly called you out to do something about the sexual tension. Last Saturday you had. It just didn’t go as planned.

Your friend chuckles suddenly.

“What?”

“Nothing, just a thought. Keep talking.”

“No, Jung. Spit it out.” Now that he’s done, you sit up to narrow your eyes at him.

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re just a bad kisser, I don’t know.”

You gasp. “I am no such thing.”

“I mean, I can’t attest to that. Facts only.” He again motions for you to continue as he gets up to clean some things. “He pushes you off and then what?”

Something about the way that Jungkook had looked at you when he pushed you off had stuck with you. Pain, confusion. No lust, no want, not even embarrassment. “He just left.”

“What do you mean he left?” Your friend’s eyebrows contort as he pulls off his gloves. They’re black just like the walls in the small shop. “Are you sure he wasn’t just — I don’t know — not that into it?”

You scowl. “I am not that bad of a kisser Hoseok! If the tent in his jeans had been anything to go by, I’d say it’s the opposite.”

Hoseok merely rolls his eyes, dusting off his ripped jeans and sitting down at the end of the chair that you're still lounging on. He runs a hand through his vibrant red hair.

Part of you just feels sick to your stomach. Both out of embarrassment, confusion and anxiety. Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung and you had all gone to a club together, a normal Saturday night. It’s not uncommon for you and Jungkook to get a little handsy after a few drinks. Usually though, you’d be delightfully cockblocked by your brother, Yoongi.

You get it. Jungkook doesn’t want to make out with his friend’s little sister when he’s right there. Now that he finally got free reign, this happens.

Whatever ‘this’ even means. All you’ve been able to think about is that Jungkook knew what he was doing. His mouth, his hands, his body. Everything. He played you like a damn fiddle. The moan he’d let out at the first contact of your mouth to his still echoes in your ears. Deep, guttural relief.

Hoseok interrupts your train of thoughts, “and you haven’t seen him since he walked out on your apparently amazing make-out session?”

“It’s not like I ever see him on Sundays. Shop’s closed and Yoongi and I usually have a stay-in day.”

“Has he called?” Hoseok asks, quirking one dark eyebrow.

“No?”

“Texted?”

“Nope.”

He sighs, ruffling his own hair, foot tapping on the grey tiles of the floor. “Have you tried texting him? Calling him?” The accusatory tone in his voice twists your gut as you give him a sheepish grimace. “Y/N!”

“What?!” You look away, eyes focusing on anything but him. The off-white desks, Jungkook’s detailed artwork displayed on the opposite wall. The red of the door that leads into the back, or maybe the piercing display.

The chair creaks when Hoseok gets up. “I just thought that, since you’re a girl, you’d have a bit more sense when it comes to shit like this. But you and Yoongi really are one and the same.”

“Excuse me?” you spit, turning back to face him as you grab for your shirt to cover yourself up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Both of you are dense as fuck. You can’t always wait for the other person to act first.” The sharp tinge in Hoseok‘s voice hints at something else. Something unrelated to you and Jungkook. It must be related to your brother. After all, they’d been in a relationship for a little over half a year now. A rocky one. Something must’ve happened between them over the weekend. “Just,” he stops, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Jungkook will be here today, just ask hi—“

The bell that sounds as the door open drown out the sound of Hoseok’s playlist. It brings with it the sound of pouring rain. The tattoo artist immediately gets up to check. The shop isn’t open yet.

“Kook?!” Hoseok exclaims. “I told you I was coming to pick you up. You’re going to get sick like this. What were you thinking?” Concern laces his voice as he rushes over to his friend who’s still hidden from your view behind the velvet grey curtain. Hoseok lets out a few curses, caring personality getting the better of him. Always a listening ear, always ready to help. Sometimes, maybe a little too concerned. Jungkook seems to agree.

“I can take care of myself,” the younger grumbles. He trudges inside, entering the area where you’re currently sitting. Water is dripping down his leather jacket and black baseball cap onto the tile floor. He’s effectively soaked to the bone. Black jeans plastered to his thighs more than usual.

A sense of dread fills your veins when his eyes land on your still half-naked chest. Yes, Jungkook has seen you topless before. To pierce your nipple. Not randomly in the middle of his shop.

His dark gaze flickers between you and Hoseok. Jaw clenched tight, tongue pushing his cheek. “I have a change of clothes in the back.” His voice is nothing short of a sneer, as he drops his backpack by his station and walks off without another word.

“Yikes,” Hoseok whispers. “Are you sure you told me the entire story?”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before he fucking hears you. And call my brother,” you mumble, pulling your shirt over your head, “He’s not going to call you first. We both know that.”

With your shirt back on you feel a little more comfortable. But not comfortable enough to immediately go confront Jungkook.

“What did you two fight about anyway?” you question the redhead who’s currently bent over the laptop by the front desk.

Hoseok doesn’t look up, brown eyes lit by the screen. “Nothing you should be concerned about. You just worry about mister tongue medal. I can fix my own relationship problems.” The comment stings. Neither Hoseok nor Yoongi have ever been particularly open about their relationship. Even though you’re close with both.

“That was unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry.” He leans his head down. “Having all three of you in bad moods is just not doing any good for my own.” The tension in his body is evident as he straightens up. He slides a black folder your way. “How about you go make inventory from today’s shipment. I’ll try and talk to him during morning appointments.”

Inventory, great. Not the kind of work you thought you’d be doing when you offered to help them around the place. You want to protest, but he cuts you off.

“Listen, I know that you hate doing inventory. I know you don’t want to be here at all right now, but you promised to cover Tae’s position until we found someone else.” He’s right, you had offered to do that. In return for a tattoo, you would work their front desk whenever you have time between school and your actual, paying job. The desk was previously manned by Jungkook’s best friend Taehyung. He now works at an art gallery. A job he’s always dreamed of. “It’s not my fault you decided to make out with him,” Hoseok states. “Okay? Now go.”

“I know, I’m going.”

There’s no way for you to miss Jungkook as you round the corner. Tanned skin and tattoos shift as he shakes his wet hair. The crow and moon tattoo on his upper back stand out starkly. Dark, like most of his tattoos. You’ve seen it before, it’s always peeking up from the collar of his shirt. The floral pattern that peeks up from the waistband of his jeans is new to you though. It curves over his lower back and hips. You wonder how deep it goes.

The fabric of his clean shirt drapes down and hides everything from your view. It snaps you out of your thoughts quickly enough for you to slip into the storage room quickly enough before he spots you.

Your gut wrenches with nerves. Avoidance, great. Probably not the best way to solve this. Certainly not the fastest. But then again, talking this out while Hoseok is right there is inconsiderate. It’ll have to wait.

You’ll just spend the rest of your morning thinking about nothing else but Jungkook. The anger in his eyes a few minutes ago, the feeling of his tongue, and shipments. Fun.

Your butt hits the floor as you open the folder. The room is dusty, even with the lights on you struggle to read Hoseok’s jagged handwriting. For someone who draws so well you’d expect something at least semi-legible. Regardless, you can’t focus to begin with.

You and Jungkook have been running in circles ever since that one time when he pierced your nipple. Cliché, but it is what it is. You remember the risky touches and how turned on you’d been. Until he actually pierced you. That had been the most painful thing you ever experienced.

It’s been over a year since Jimin, Yoongi’s coworker, introduced the two of you to Hoseok and Jungkook. Now, everyone in your close circle of friends knows that there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension between you and the youngest. Sadly, neither of you have acted on it. That’s as much your own fault as it is Jungkook’s. Not to speak of the fact that you’ve been interested in him ever since you first laid eyes on him. An entire year, and you did nothing about it.

In that time, Jimin started dating Taehyung. The guy who worked Inkling’s front desk. And your brother has started dating Hoseok. Something Yoongi had only recently told Jungkook about.

That had been a bit of an unfortunate situation. As much as you had assured Yoongi that Jungkook would not bat an eye if he came out to him, he just kept pushing it off. The way your parents had treated him when he told them he was gay made a deep impact on him. It’s a wound you don’t think will ever truly heal. Your parents’ harsh reaction was the reason he moved out at the young age of sixteen. That same reason caused you to show up at his doorstep a few years later. To live with him. Support him.

You and Yoongi have always been close. It’s why he knows about your crush on Jungkook. It’s why you’ve kept Yoongi’s secret from everyone for so long. He’d been especially on guard when he thought Jungkook had already found out a few weeks ago. Apparently Jungkook had suspected something, asked Taehyung about it, who told Jimin, who came to Yoongi. Your brother had then turned into a hysterical mess.

That situation is over now. And somehow you’ve magically created another one out of thin air. You think about this as you count the packages of dyes, gloves, masks, and other various things you’ve no clue what they’re used for. It’s just a little tricky to match the official descriptions to Jungkook’s incoherent labels and abbreviations. Boxes labeled guns, pricklers, and clamps most certainly weren’t what you were looking for. Those are all related to Jungkook’s piercing practice.

When Hoseok and Jungkook set up the shop three years ago it had taken the younger an entirety of a year to convince his friend to let him start piercing. Hoseok’s slightly irrational fear of piercings made a poor argument. Especially since tattooing involves a needle. Something about the puncturing of skin or whatever. Jungkook had eventually won.

Your phone rings, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What the...” you mutter as you see Taehyung’s name pop up on the screen. Taehyung never calls you. The two of you don’t even talk outside of the group.

Picking up, you lean against one of the shelves. “Hey Tae, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a loud yawn on the other end followed by the unmistakable sound of a car door closing. He must be about to get into work. “I’m calling about Jungkook.”

Heart rate picking up, you await his following words.

“I’m not sure what exactly happened, but you probably know more about it than I do.” His voice trails off, faintly lined with anger.

“Is this about Saturday?” you ask, hoping for a no.

Taehyung is silent for a few beats, “I mean, I thought the two of you finally fucked after we couldn’t find you two. Jimin and I scouted the entire place, you were nowhere to be found. He’s called you three times since, and you haven’t gotten back to him. What happened?”

You mentally curse yourself for not calling Jimin back. He’d be way easier to talk to than an aggravated Taehyung.

“I'll rephrase my question,” he says upon your lack of answer. “Yesterday Jungkook came to ours at eight in the morning. He was really fucking distraught and I want to know if you have anything to do with it?”

“Tae...” you hesitate, unsure of what to tell him. The tone of his voice isn’t making it easy for you to choose your words. You know he has a temper. He won’t just forgive you if you hurt Jungkook, he’d do anything to protect him.

“Don’t ‘Tae’ me, you’re not Jimin. It doesn’t work when you do it. You can’t blame me for looking out for Jungkook when he was so upset.”

You really do understand where he’s coming from. Before he and Jimin had gotten steady enough to move in together, Taehyung had been crashing on Jungkook and Hoseok’s couch for months after a series of complicated events. The details had been kept from you, but it involved Taehyung severing ties with a gang he’d been involved in. It hadn’t gone as planned, and Jungkook had to make sure he would get back up on both feet. He made sure he had a roof over his head and food to eat. The entire ordeal had completely passed you by until Jungkook mentioned it to you when he was drunk on your couch one night a few weeks ago.

“Y/N?” he pushes

“I know, I know. Just give me the space to fix this, okay? I have as much of an idea as to what’s going on as you do.” You rub your eyes, trying to stave off the nerves. “I’ll talk to him today, I promise.”

The other’s car engine revs in the background. “Did you know he was upset?”

You bite your lip. “Sort of.”

“And you didn’t think to call him?”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” The way the words fall from his lips make tears appear in the corners of your eyes. What if Taehyung was right? What if you had read all the signs wrong? What if Jungkook didn’t like you? Had you messed up? Pushed him too far? “I’ve known Jungkook since we were kids. He puts up a strong front and you know it. He manages to scare off enough people by merely looking at them. But we’re all aware that he doesn’t look at you the same way. He’s more sensitive than he lets on.” Taehyung’s voice remains neutral, but his words still sting.

You find yourself sliding down the shelves and onto the floor. Fighting the tears increasingly getting harder as Taehyung’s words cause your mind to reach for places that it shouldn’t. Jungkook is more than just a hot guy who wears a manbun and has too many piercings for you to count. He’s more than a guy you want to fuck. You like him, as a person.

“Just let me talk to him, okay? I haven’t had a chance yet.” There’s not much else to tell him. You know that he’s not going to take your side. If you really hurt Jungkook you wouldn’t forgive yourself either. “I never intended to upset him.” The thought that you might’ve pushed Jungkook too far feels wholly irrational, but you can’t get it out of your head anymore.

Taehyung’s silence threatens to make your thoughts spiral again. When he speaks you’re almost relieved. “To be honest, I don’t want to turn this into a huge thing before my ten hour shift.” Your heart sinks. “I’ve got to go, let me know how it goes.”

He hangs up without another word, leaving you with guilt settling heavily in your stomach. This entire situation is messed up. You vividly remember Jungkook pulling you in, capturing your mouth with his. He’s the one who shifted you into his lap, who made you his. It can’t just have been your imagination. Maybe this wasn’t even related to you.

You just hope that whatever it is that caused him to react this way, is something you can fix. An apology should be the start. Taehyung was right.

A knock on the door startles you. “Are you alive?” Hoseok calls, opening the door. He frowns upon seeing your slouched form on the floor. Phone lying between your legs. “You know that if you want to take a break, you can just come up to the front, right?”

You shake your head. “Taehyung called.”

Hoseok helps you up, brushing some dust off the back of your shirt. “Everything okay?”

“Ha, no.” You let out a dry chuckle that’s merely there to cover up your obvious nerves. “Taehyung seemed pretty angry.”

“Eh, he always does. He’s just overprotective of Jungkook, Jimin’s not gonna let him actually rip you a new one. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” Hoseok speaks gently as he grabs the binder off the floor. “Did you finish?”

You nod. “Just unsure of where everything goes.” There’s still a few open boxes in the back.

“That’s okay. I’ll put them into place later.”

“Hobi?” you ask as he opens the door.

He hums an affirmative.

“What if Jungkook didn’t want to kiss me?”

There’s a brief silence, Hoseok turning around with the most confused look on his face as he observes you. “I’m sorry but what did Taehyung say to you? I swear that I have no idea what’s going on but I can assure you that Jungkook not wanting you is the least of your problems.” He lets out a laugh.

“Okay,” you mumble, a little hurt that he’s laughing at it. But he’s probably right. Jungkook’s lingering touches, his purposeful stares, that little thing he does with his tongue piercing that drives you insane. “Did you call my brother yet?”

Hoseok nods, moving to his messy station. “He’s supposed to bring over lunch. All’s good, I promise.” He ruffles your hair and you swat at his arm. Maybe he’s getting a little too comfortable around you. He might be dating your brother, but that doesn’t give him the right to do that. Only Yoongi is allowed to ruffle your hair. Sometimes.

Back in the front area, Jungkook is finishing up a tattoo on someone’s leg. The man’s lying on his stomach, seemingly quiet. Just how you know Jungkook prefers his sessions. He doesn’t talk much when he’s working, finds it easier to concentrate this way. For a moment you let yourself stare. Eyes gliding over the dip in his back and his messy hair. The way it’s pushed back shows off his eyebrow piercing.

Many have claimed him to be intimidating. If it isn’t for the multitude of piercings in his face and ears, then it’d be the way his arms and shoulders are covered in ink. Or his facial expressions. There’s something about the way his brows furrow and his jaw sets just right, that tends to make the sixteen year old girls who come to get their belly buttons pierced regret their decisions. You on the other hand, can’t get enough of him like this.

Where Jungkook is all black — tattoos, clothes and hair — Hoseok is brighter. The other’s red hair and deep-coloured tattoos speak for his personality. He’s more outgoing, more open. And unfortunately, more obnoxious at times. Right now you get a good look at the fox tattoo that covers his left thigh. It peaks out through one of the arguably too big holes in his jeans. He definitely picked them out on purpose.

When you turn back to look at Jungkook, your eyes meet his and you’re not prepared. A lump forms in your throat as his eyes seem stone cold. There’s no smirk, no flirtatious glint. Nothing but what could only be described as anger. “What?” he asks, voice nearly a sneer.

You startle at the harshness, mumbling a quiet ‘nothing’ before deciding to just go to the front desk.

The man leaves before your lunch arrives, and at this point you really are starting to get hungry. Jungkook yet again disappears without a word, probably to the lightbox to draw something. Or he’s smoking a cigarette out back. A nasty, nervous habit of his.

Hoseok’s busy doing work on his laptop, when finally, your lunch arrives. It’s just not Yoongi, but Jimin who’s carrying it inside.

“Hey, a little help would be welcome,” Jimin groans as he pushes open the door with his shoulder. Both you and Hoseok scramble up to help before he spills the coffee all over the floor. “Thanks. Yoongi got stuck doing God knows what, so I’m bringing food in his name.” He smiles, lifting your mood as easily as ever. No matter what’s going on, Jimin’s presence is always soothing and bright.

Yoongi had first met the blonde when he started dishwashing at a local restaurant. Now both him and Jimin are leading staff and close friends.

Jimin looks around the shop. “Where’s Kook?”

You suck in your cheek, meeting Jimin’s suspicious gaze. “He’s holed up in the back.”

Jimin’s eyes shift from you to Hoseok, contemplating speaking up.

“You can say it,” you say blandly, “Hoseok knows.”

“Did you talk to him yet?” he whisper-yells. “You’re so lucky I didn’t tell on your ass to Tae. But the next time you ditch me and ignore my calls I will not hesitate to kick your ass myself.”

“What?”

Jimin’s face changes into a glance you know all too well. That specific one which says; are you fucking kidding me? “Do you really think that I didn’t see you and Mr. I don’t wanna fuck Yoongi’s sister, sucking face in the corner?” Your cheeks heat up. “I mean, we all knew he was lying. But that’s not the point.” Jimin presses a finger in your chest. “My point is that the next time the two of you leave to exchange something more than saliva, at least send me a text.” Jimin’s tone is highly accusatory, but he doesn’t seem upset. That’s probably just because he doesn’t know what’s going on. His hand goes into one of the bags, fishing out a pale muffin for himself to eat.

Hoseok coughs, setting his decaf latte back on the desk. “I hate to break it to you Jimin, but that’s not the actual story.”

You want to slap him for exposing you like that. Reaching behind the counter you turn the music up so you can tell Jimin who’s waiting with wide eyes. “Jungkook and I didn’t go home together,” you confess.

“Please don’t tell me you fucked in the ba—“

“JIMIN!” You shove him lightly. “Just — no, okay? We made out and he bolted on me,” you whisper.

Jimin cocks an eyebrow. “That would...explain a lot but also nothing at the same time. Jungkook was pretty out of it yesterday. I mean, he gets like that from time to time, but still. My bet was on the sex being bad. Or like — I don’t know — you saying his dick was small.”

“Okay, okay! We get it!” you hush.

“Get what?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you.

You still, stopping yourself from immediately turning around and meeting his probably cold eyes. Part of you want to say something, anything. But you can’t find the words. Especially when he comes close enough for you to feel the heat of his body radiate to your back. His chest grazes your shoulders as he grabs his drink and food from the desk.

“She and Yoongi had a falling out this morning,” Hoseok says calmly, the saviour of your day. “Nothing big.”

Jimin smiles at Jungkook, but it’s not returned. “Hot chocolate, no whip, one shot of espresso.”

Nothing more than a barely-audible thanks follows. He runs his fingers through his fringe, hair now pulled up in a bun again, before he leaves to continue whatever he was doing.

“Are you really that bad at kissing?” Jimin whispers, making you shove him again.

“Shut up, not you too. This is serious, keep your nosy ass out of it.”

Jimin gasps in offense. “You better remember who brings you lunch.” You roll your eyes. “Also, can I talk to you guys about Tae’s birthday present?”

You hoist yourself onto the desk, nodding as you finally bite into your own muffin.

“Of course, it’s not like any of us know what to get him,” Hoseok adds.

Jimin sighs a little. “He keeps saying that he doesn’t want anything. But I know that isn’t true. It’s just that the one thing he really wants is expensive and I can’t afford it on my own.” The slight tremble to his voice gives him away. He loves Taehyung, would do anything for him. You know that Hoseok would be here to help, so are you. “He has a tattoo, he wants to get it covered up. But Jungkook’s told him that he has to get it laser-treated first because it's pretty big and dark. I looked it up and it’s not cheap. I just don’t want you guys to think that I’m taking advantage of you or something. I just...”

Hoseok pipes up before Jimin can even properly finish. “I’m sure that if we all chip in it’ll be good. Plus, Jungkook and I would totally do the cover-up for free. It’s gonna hurt, but it’ll be worth it. You agree, Y/N?”

You nod. You've never seen Taehyung's tattoo, and you know Jimin's not going to go into details, but you understand him wanting to get rid of it. It's his last tie to his past. “Yeah, I’ll chip in. Just send us how much it is and we’ll figure it out Jimin.”

Jimin just about bursts at the seams from happiness. He hugs both of you so tight, whispering a dozen thank you’s as he does. “It’ll mean so much to him!” His eyes flicker to the clock. “By the way, before I go. Hoseok, have you and Yoongi finally told Jungkook about the two of you fucking and all?”

Hoseok grimaces. “We’re dating, Jimin. Stop putting it like that.”

“Potato, potato.”

“We didn’t tell him,” Hoseok confesses.

“What?” You and Jimin say at the same time.

Hoseok sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Yoongi got cold feet. Again.”

Jimin is silent, brows furrowing before his lips part in realisation. “Oh...OH!” He almost starts laughing. “I know what’s going on here. I see, I see.”

You frown at him, looking at Hoseok for an answer but he seems equally confused.

“Girl, you gotta talk to Jungkook. This? It’s all a huge misunderstanding. Just talk to him, you’ll be fine. Trust me.” The giggle in his voice makes you a little angry. He could just tell you, but he’s halfway out the door before you even get the chance to ask. “Also, you,” he says pointing at Hoseok, “make sure you tell Jungkook about you and Yoongi before he finds out like me and Tae. Meaning with you three knuckles deep in Yoongi’s ass.”

“Okay!” Hoseok calls, somewhat flustered as he gets up. “You’ve said enough for today, don’t you have customers to yell at?”

Jimin laughs, giving you one more glance. “If you and you-know-who end up having some r-rated sessions, please use protection.”

“OUT!” you and Hoseok yell in unison, causing Jimin to quickly slip away before you can properly shove him out the door yourself.

Jimin really seemed to be one step ahead of you, and you hate it. Though his gut was usually right so maybe you should trust him that it’ll all be okay. Hoseok said the same thing after all.

The rest of your day goes by fairly smoothly. A few walk-ins but nothing special. Jungkook quietly works with his back to you, and Hoseok does his best to start some sort of conversation. It dead-ends each time.

When Hoseok is getting ready to leave, your nerves feel like they’re going to burst from your body. Literally. You don’t know if you can do this. Talk to Jungkook. He’s been stone cold the entire day, not a single word where it wasn’t absolutely necessary. You’ve never seen him like this, even Hoseok started to become a victim of his wrath. Jungkook started snapping at him too, causing the elder to just leave him be after a while.

“Listen,” Hoseok says, “I’m going to go, here’s my key in case you need it. Talk to him. Tell me how it goes.”

You whine. “Hobi...”

“No, you’re doing this. I refuse to work with him like this for another fucking second. Just talk. It’s probably nothing.” His voice is stern, and he opens the door to leave. “If it really goes south you can yell at me later. But you have to try.” he goes, leaving you behind in the empty shop unknowingly of what to do.

It can’t be that bad, right? Your hands tremble as you try to take a deep breath. What are you so afraid of? Jungkook rejecting you? Maybe...It would hurt. Everyone would be surprised, that’s for sure. There’s been something oddly specific about how he treats you, looks at you. Jimin’s often referred to it as ‘looking at each other as if you were going to fuck right then and there’.

You take another deep breath. The only way to face the beast is head-on right? Jungkook isn’t gonna hurt you. Worst he could do is yell at you. You can handle that. Right?

With shaking legs you walk into the back, thoughts still running rampant. He’s not at his station. The black chair empty, grey desk neatly cleaned with the dyes organised by colour. Hoseok could take from that.

“Why are you still here?” Jungkook’s voice startles you.

A shiver runs down your spine, the deep drawl echoing in your mind. “I want to talk.” Your voice wavers slightly.

He gives you no chance to face him, scoffing as he walks past you. Not even a glance in your direction. He gathers his pencils that have rolled onto the floor, placing them neatly back on the desk. The black koi fish tattoo on his right shifts as he does. It matches the white one on the left. Yin and Yang, separated. His movements are rough, and he’s rushing through it. Trying to get away.

“Well?” he questions. “Are you going to talk or not?”

The harshness in his voice has you stunned for a moment. “I-I...Jungkook I’m really sorry if I did anything to upset you. I’m not sure what’s going through your mind but, if this is because you didn’t want to kiss me the—“

Jungkook’s hand make a harsh sound as they connect with the surface of the desk. “Is this a game to you?” He looks at you — glares. Angers rolls off his shoulders that are coiled tight

“What?”

“You heard me,” he all but growls. “Do you think this is a joke?” Jungkook looks away, eyes closing with a deep, barely-controlled breath. It shudders through him.

Your hands are clenched tightly, they ache to touch him. To smooth down over the expanse of his back in an attempt to comfort him. “If I thought this was funny I wouldn’t be here trying to talk to you.”

“Fuck.” The words fall from his lips right before his teeth sink into them. His fingers squeak over the desk’s surface. When he looks up at you, you expect to see the anger. The disgust. However, you don’t expect it to be in the shape of tears glistening in his eyes as he struggles to even look at you for more than a few seconds. “Stop being like this, okay? We both know that what we did was wrong. It’s eating me alive and you know what — I can’t deal with it any longer.” Jungkook reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with so much force it collides with his back. Yet, you don’t miss the tremble in his other hand. “I’m giving you one day to tell him. Otherwise I’ll do it myself.”

You frown, quickly following him towards the front. “Is this about Yoongi?”

Jungkook stops in his tracks, causing you to almost bump into him. “Yoongi?” He’s seething with anger. It’s hot, burning your skin and making your throat constrict. “I’m talking about us nearly fucking while you’re obviously in a relationship with Hoseok.”

Silence. Minutes seem to tick by as you take in his words. “What?”

A last time, he turns. The look he gives you is nothing short of pure, unfiltered disgust. “You know what? I’m so done with you.” He shakes his head. “You know I like you, everyone knows it. And we were both wrong here. But I can’t cope with the fact that I had my best friend’s girlfriend moaning in my lap two nights ago.” Jungkook’s words are painfully sharp, but they don’t seem to only affect you. He’s hurting himself unnecessarily. “If he hates me after this that’s fine, but someone has to tell him.”

“Kook,” you try, tears brimming your own eyes. But he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s bad enough that everyone seemed to know about you two except for me. And if you were trying to protect me then I can try to understand, but I can see the signs you know? I’m not fucking blind. Hoseok’s always going home with you. He spends three nights a week at your apartment at the very least. And even around here the two of you have gotten disgustingly close. Hell, Y/N, you were half naked in here with him before business hours as if it’s the most normal thing. I don’t even want to entertain the idea of the two of you fucking in here. This isn’t r—“

“STOP!” you yell, hands coming up to cover your ears. “Just, stop!”

Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut as he stares at you. Your mind is going a hundred miles an hour. He thinks you and Hoseok are together. Jungkook thinks that you and Hoseok are dating, because Yoongi never told him that he's the one dating Hoseok. That it’s his bed Hoseok is sleeping it. Yoongi never even told him that he’s into guys. Jungkook has no reason to entertain the idea of you not being the reason that Hoseok was over at your apartment. He went with the logical option. That you and Hoseok are an item.

“It’s...”

You want to tell him. It’d be an easy way out to tell him Yoongi is dating Hoseok. That Hoseok wasn't sleeping in your bed. But you can’t do that to your brother. You can’t out him, it’s wrong. The only chance you can take is hoping Jungkook will believe your word.

“I’m not dating Hoseok,” you say as calmly as you can.

He scoffs, loud. Nostrils flaring as he reaches for the door handle.

Fingers circling around his other arm, you stop him. Causing him to quickly shrug you off as if you’d burnt him.

“Don’t fucking touch me. It’s bad enough we did this. I don’t need you lying to me about it.”

You shake your head, almost reaching out for him again in your panic. “Just...hear me out. If you really like me as much as you say. If you believe that I like you too. Hear me out.” There’s one other way out of this. One other person he would believe. “Please Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He wavers. Caves. “Fine.”

Relief floods your veins, and you sink back against the counter. “Okay, I’m going to call Hoseok.” You grab your phone from your pocket, fingers sliding over the screen shakily. “Just—“

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“HEY!” you call, causing him to startle. “You’re sitting your fucking ass down. It’s not my fault that you’re not willing to believe me and decided to get worked up over some imaginary scenario.” Your voice is barely a growl but it pushes him enough to finally get his hand off the doorknob. “Sit. The fuck. Down.”

He swallows thickly, and your chest heaves with anger. To your surprise, he actually slumps down onto the couch without another word.

“I’m gonna call Hobi, and you’re gonna keep your mouth shut until I’m finished.” No words come from him, but the scowl on his face says enough. Hoseok’s picture pops up with you dial him, and you take the time to steady yourself. This has to work.

“Did you two finally figure out your bullshit?” Hoseok asks the second he picks up.

The nerve. “You gotta help me out here.” You hold the phone steady, putting him on speaker as you look straight at the man across from you while speaking. “Do you remember when I explicitly told you this morning — in all glorious details — about Jungkook and I making out?”

There’s a clear shift in Jungkook’s expression. Eyebrows raising ever so slightly. His red bitten lips parting.

“Yes — Wait,” Hoseok stumbles. “Am I on speaker? Why am I on speaker? I want no part in this!”

“Hobi!” He needs to listen to you and help. “Please just tell your friend that you and I are not fucking.”

The first sound that comes from the other end of the line is a loud snort. Followed by hysterical laughter. “Oh. My. God.” This situation isn't funny to you nor Jungkook, but you suppose that Hoseok comes across very authentic like this. One day you’ll probably laugh about this too. “Jungkook, sweetheart,” he laughs. “You really gone and cockblocked yourself because you thought I was dating her?”

Jungkook's eyes are now wide with confusion, body sunk deeply into the leather couch as his gaze is unfocused. “You’re...not?”

“No offense to Y/N,” Hoseok says with laughter still ringing his voice, “but absolutely not.”

“None taken,” you state dryly, “thank you.”

Your eyes follow Jungkook as he stands up slowly, leaving his bag on the couch. His tongue presses into his cheek, running under his top lip where you know he hides one of his many piercings. The change in his body language is evident, and you shiver as he looks at you.

Hoseok sighs dramatically. “No problem. I’m getting used to saving your guys’ day. Now can you two please fuck out your frustrations so that I can work and live in peace. Use protection. Cheers!”

The line ends before you can say another word to him. When you finally glance up at Jungkook again, he’s closer than you thought.

He stands barely a foot away, eyes curiously meeting yours. Scanning your face for any type of reaction, waiting. His hands hang limp by his side, shoulder no longer bunched but...Something about him is still taut. “You’re not dating Hoseok?” he asks, voice unexpectedly deep.

“No,” you breathe softly, unable to look away from him. From this angle you can see his eyebrow piercing where it hides under his fringe. You can see his eyes darken too.

“You’re single?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a quick flash of gold.

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

Jungkook steps that much closer, toes bumping yours as he lowers his face. His breathing is heavy, chest almost brushing yours as he corners you against the desk. “And I can have you?”

“All yours.”

Everything is forgotten from there. Jungkook’s hands fly up to cup your face, tilting you up so he can capture your mouth with his. You groan, deeply relieved at the contact. Jungkook has no reservations. No, within seconds you find yourself with one of his thighs snugly between yours and his tongue pushing past your lips.

Fuck. The feeling of his piercing pressing against your tongue still takes you by surprise. You shiver with excitement. Your fingers grapple for purchase at his shoulders.

Jungkook moans, a sound that’s silenced by you kissing him back. It’s messy, you can feel his heart hammer in his chest and yours is no different. As he explores your mouth with his tongue, your fingers tug his shirt from his jeans. You graze the warm skin of his waist and back.

As his hands grab your hips possessively, your toes curl. There’s no time to breathe. All you can manage is a pathetic whimper when Jungkook bites down on your lip and runs his tongue across it. Kissing him is oddly foreign, in the most delicious way.

Diving in again, Jungkook grants you more leverage to kiss him back. One of your hands slide into his hair, reaching on your tiptoes to do so. There’s a brief smile from him. Followed by him hoisting you up on the counter without breaking the kiss. No, you’re too busy tracing the piece of jewellery in his mouth as it clacks against your teeth.

It’s wet. Sloppy. And you’re certain that it’s noisy. But all you can hear right now is the rushing of your heart and the rough sounds that come from him. He parts your thighs, pressing himself right up against your centre and — fuck. It’s just right, the way he presses the seam of your jeans into you.

Your mouth falls from him, unable to stave off your air for any longer. Jungkook seems unfazed, tongue tracing your bottom lip to break the string of saliva that connected you. “Kook,” you breathe heavily.

He smirks, nosing along your cheekbone as your nails digging into his back. Tantalised, you hold your breath. Expecting the harsh graze of his teeth just below your jaw. You know it’ll mark, especially when he presses his lips over the same sport and suckles at it until you're shaking in his hold.

By now his hands have slipped under your shirt, fingers digging into your bare waist. His fingertips are rough, like everything about him but his lips. They’re soft and you hate it. He shouldn’t be allowed to kiss you like this.

Still, you let him kiss back up to your lips. You moan into him. The way he passes any of the kisses and hesitation. He licks into your mouth like you’ve been doing this for ages. Tongue gliding along yours, making you want more. You will need it, when he parts. Ache for his mouth again as you pull him unimaginably closer.

A moan falls from both of you as you grind down, and somehow it pulls you back to reality. The reality where you’re sitting on the front desk of the shop. Right by the windows. Where everyone can see.

The reality where Jungkook yelled at you mere minutes ago.

“Jungkook,” you whisper against his mouth. A shiver rakes through your body when he moves to kiss your neck. “Jungkook, stop.”

Those words stop him immediately. He looks up. “Everything okay?” His chest rises and falls against yours.

You nod, placing your hands firmly on his chest. The accidental brush of your palm against one of his piercing causes his breath to hitch. “Just,” you eyes flicker between where he stands between your legs and the large, open windows, “maybe we shouldn’t...you know?”

Jungkook’s hands smooth down your arms, sending goosebumps in his wake. “This is not the part where I tell you we can go to the back. Is it?”

“No,” you whisper.

When his hands fall from your body, you feel cold, empty. You reach for him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Hey, I want this. But maybe we need to let everything cool down a little.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, lips swollen, hair a mess. “Yeah.” His voice is firm, paired with a deep sigh. “Yeah, I’m sorry. For getting so mad at you, I should’ve asked before making assumptions.”

A smile tugs at your lips. You hop off the counter, leaning up to press your lips against his. “It’s alright. No hard feelings.” saying that, you feel relieved from all the tension. Knowing that Jungkook wants you — likes you — makes your stomach flutter.

“Can I get a ride?” Jungkook grimaces at the pouring rain. “I don’t want to get soaked again.”

“Yeah of course, silly.”

To be honest, it was a futile attempt. Both of you don’t make it to the car with a single dry inch on your body. You just hope it’s not going to ruin your seats, that’d be an expensive joke.

Jungkook coughs when you start the engine, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. You turn to give him a look, but there’s no way for you to miss the obvious erection he's sporting.

“Are you really hard right now?”

“I’m still hard, for your information.” He groans, letting his head fall back. “It’ll go away.” The smile that stretches over his lips it too telling. “Or you can help me.” It’s barely a mumble but you can catch it.

“Jungkook!” you spit.

“I know, I know.”

There’s a calm mood in your apartment, Yoongi’s music softly emanating from his room next to yours. Not a single fibre in your body wants to have this conversation with him. Not again. But you have to. Even if it’s for the fact that you need to let him know he doesn’t have to lie to you about these things. That you’re not disappointed in him.

“Hey, you’re home late. I was starting to get worried about you.” Yoongi appears from his room, already dressed in black sweats and an oversized grey sweater. “Everything okay?”

You want to nod, but choose not to. “Can we talk?”

He freezes up, fingers clenching into fists. “Why?”

Because you lied to me. Because you didn’t tell Jungkook and it almost ruined my chances with him as a result. “Just please sit, so we can talk. I promise I’m not mad at you, Yoon.” The nickname seems to be enough incentive for him to nod and take a hesitant seat at your small dining table.

You sit across from him, chest heavy and uncertain of whether this is the right moment to do this. He nervously traces the pattern of the worn down, brown table, his sleeve tattoo peeking out as he does.

“Yoongi, why did you lie to me about coming out to Jungkook?”

Abruptly, he stills. “Did Hobi tell you?”

“How I found out doesn’t matter right now okay. I just want to know why you weren’t honest about it with me.” You watch your older brother as he avoids your gaze. He sinks back into his chair and purses his lips.

Part of you feels like hugging him, telling him it’s okay. But it’s not. Not really. Your brother has been through so much, and you understand this is hard for him. That your parents basically casting him out is why he is so afraid that everybody will reject him. But logically he should know that Jungkook won’t care that he’s gay. Taehyung is, and they’ve been friends for almost their entire lives. Hoseok and Jimin as bi. Jungkook might be the straightest guy you know, but that doesn’t say much.

“Yoongi, I’m not mad at you. You can be honest with me, I want to help.”

“I’m scared,” he says, very matter-of-factly. “I’m scared. That’s it. I don’t have any other real excuse.”

“That’s not an excuse, Yoongi. It’s a legitimate reason for not telling him, regardless of how often Hoseok and I have told you there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Yoongi shakes his head, black hair falling into his eyes. Still, he avoids your gaze. “I was scared that you’d be disappointed. That’s why I haven’t told you.”

“Yoongi...” Your heart aches for him. Even through this, your brother has always been the bravest person you know. He’s built what he has from nothing. He was merely sixteen when he moved out, barely had a degree. You were just eighteen when you showed up on his doorstep unannounced with a suitcase and a request to move in with him. He’d fought so hard to make ends meet for both of you until you’d found a job. Yoongi’s always fought for you. You just wish he’d fight for himself too. “I would never be disappointed with you. Ever.”

He finally looks at you, tears showing at the corners of his eyes. They shine regardless, as he look at you as if you’re his only lifeline. “Don’t you want me to tell him?”

You take Yoongi’s hand from where it lies limply on the table. The small sun tattoo stands out against the bare skin of his wrist. It matches the moon on yours.

Rubbing you finger over his tattoo, you speak to him softly: “I do want you to tell him, but not for me. Or for Hoseok. I want you to tell him for yourself. Once you’ve told him I think you will feel much better. You and Hobi won’t have to hide anymore, and you’ll all be able to be comfortable around each other.” You squeeze his hand. “It’ll give you strength, Yoongi. Telling people instead of letting them find out.”

A tear slips from his eyes, and you hold your breath awaiting his answer. This is why you’ve always looked up to Yoongi. He’s not afraid to show his emotions to those he trusts, even if he trusts a very small number of people. Yoongi is the one who showed you that it’s okay to not be okay, hence the moon tattoo on your own wrist. He has the sun, to signify that you’re the brightness in his days. Or well, that’s how he said it.

“Will you go with me?” he asks. “To tell him?”

It might not be the greatest idea, especially since you and Jungkook are in whatever situation you are in now. But also because this is technically not something that concerns you. If he wants you to go, you’ll go, but there’s a better choice. “I think you should ask Hoseok. That way you can kill two birds with one stone.”

“You really think so?”

You nod.

He takes a deep breath, grabbing your hand and squeezing it in return. “Thank you. For always being here to remind me of how stupid I am.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that,” you chuckle.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You were thinking it.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Am not!”

“Are too, Yoongi. It’s a bad habit.”

“It’s a bad habit,” he mocks with a scrunched up face. “Whatever, I’ll call Hoseok tonight.”

You smile. “Promise?”

“On one condition.”

With both eyebrows raised you await his condition that will most likely make you want to strangle him. You know your brother. His requests are never to make you comfortable. If anything he’s relentlessly able to tease you just enough to make you want to murder him, but not enough to actually justify it. A skill to behold.

“Please tell me whether you coming home an hour late and that disgustingly obvious hickey on your neck are in any way related.”

Your stomach jumps at his comment, hand immediately covering the spot under your ear where Jungkook had laid his claim. “I...”

He gives you a knowing look. If one thing was true about Yoongi it’s that he knows you, through and through. You and him are like peas in a pod and sadly there’s not much wiggle room in said pod. Said pod left no space for you to hide your obvious attraction to his friend.

“Oh God, Y/N,” Yoongi gives you a disgusted look. “No. Not at the shop. I know that Hoseok and Jungkook clean that place religiously, but still. I sit on those stools too! You heathens.”

Your face is red hot as you try to find the words before he can get any more ideas. “We — no, we didn’t fuck, okay. Please just calm down.”

Yoongi sighs, a breath of relief. “Good, because like — I’ve eaten at those tables. I don’t need to accidentally touch Jungkook’s lefto—“

“OKAY! I get it, I get it! We didn’t fuck. I swear.”

“Wait. Not at all?”

“Nope.”

He groans, throwing his head back. “Does that mean I need to sit through another week of gruelling sexual tension. Do I really need to be subjected to this another week? Like I have an actual fear that the two of you will at one point climb over the table and devour each other while I’m right there!”

You get up. “Okay, this conversation is over.” Honestly, you would tell him what actually happened this afternoon. About Jungkook thinking you cheated on Hoseok. But telling your brother that will just make him fear that Jungkook’s already figured out that him and Hoseok are together. “It’s your day to cook today, by the way.”

Then, he pouts. “Hey, no! I was sad today, can’t you cook? I deserve comfort food!” As a grown man, your brother’s ability to whine about little things is slightly concerning. But he will only do so at his advantage. No, whenever a time comes that Min Yoongi must adult on you, he will be an adult. And when he wants things from you, he will whine.

“Not after you called me a heathen,” you sing-song. A kiss to the top of his head and a ruffle to his already messy hair is enough to send him into a fit.

“I’m older than you! Only older siblings get to ruffle heads!”

“I’m in the mood for beef stir-fry. Oh,” you say, turning around to look at his offended form in the kitchen, “don’t forget to call Hoseok while you’re at it. If you don’t,” you smile, “I will let Jungkook fuck me,” pause, narrowing your eyes, “on our kitchen counter.”

Utter scandalisation, Yoongi’s mouth falls open. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I don’t know, Jungkook seems like a guy who’s up for anything. I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

Next Wednesday, you and Yoongi are arguably late to Taehyung’s birthday dinner at Hoseok and Jungkook’s apartment. Not that it’s a problem though. Jimin’s still fussing around in the kitchen with Hoseok’s help and Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

Jungkook, who’d been hitting up your phone the entirety of the two days you hadn’t seen each other. Including various attempts of sexting that you had to shut down because you were either in class or with your brother.

“Finally, Yoongi, I need your help.” Hoseok turns, hands covered in what appears to be some red marinade. “Come here.”

You smile as Hoseok kisses Yoongi before anything else. It’s good to know that they can now be themselves. The two hadn’t wasted another day to tell Jungkook about their relationship. He took it well. Aside from sending you a very exasperated text about the whole ordeal, calling himself a dumbfuck. Something you wholeheartedly agreed to.

Jimin’s busy chopping something, and you can just see the glint of silver ring that sits snugly around his bottom lip. He can’t wear it to work, the same way your brother has to take out his nose ring every time.

Yoongi’s commitment to Hoseok had been clear when he’d taken out both his lip piercings for his boyfriend. The other’s terrible fear of the things made kissing a bit of an issue. It was how you knew that even through their fighting, they’d be in for the long run. Especially because Hoseok decided to learn to live with Yoongi’s nose ring.

Taehyung’s reading a book in the living room, he hasn’t acknowledged your presence yet. Jimin apparently gave him all hell for being so rude to you, so you hope he’s not mad with you anymore.

“Oh,Y/N,” Hoseok says suddenly. “Kook’s probably in the bathroom.”

You frown. “Okay?”

The redhead gives you a flat expression. “You’ve been standing in the middle of the room for the past five minutes. Just go and talk to him or something.” He realises his words. “No, not or something. Only talking!” he calls after you. “No fucking in my bathroom!”

You wave him off. “Yeah, yeah.”

True to Hoseok’s words, Jungkook is in the bathroom that hides in the back of their apartment. The open door lets you quietly peek around the corner. What you find is a little more than you bargained for.

Jungkook stands in front of the mirror. Clad in ripped, black skinny jeans and a deep maroon and black flannel with what seems to be Urban Outfitters version of tribal designs on the sleeves. Said shirt hangs open, and the way he has his hands in his hair to pull it up leaves no inch of his toned chest covered.

Your own stomach flutters as his abdominal muscles shift. His nipple piercings glimmer in the harsh lighting. The way they had felt against your own chest Monday — you remember. You remember how he’d kissed you, held you, ground against you. How h—

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles with a bobby pin between his teeth. His eyes hold nothing similar to the softness of that chuckle.

Once you gaze up from his lips you find his eyes heavy — dark — as he takes you in. This is familiar, this gaze. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that you struggle to repress.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice low. There’s nothing to be ashamed about, he’s openly letting you watch him. The way he smiles, exposing the piercing under his top lip, says that he’s enjoying it. Loves it. You’re certainly not going to complain.

Not with the way you can see every muscle in his torso as he moves, struggling to get the small pin into his mess of black hair. His skin is almost golden in this light. Warm, enticing. You yearn to touch him. Trail your fingers down his pectorals and feel the ridges of his abs. Hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Pull him against you. Kiss him.

Jungkook’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, faint dimples appearing in his cheeks. He’s no longer watching you watching him. But he can feel your lingering stares. It’s evident in the way he takes his time. How he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders to expose the large, intricate dragon tattoo that curls around his bicep. Every scale is detailed as it’s wing spread over his shoulder for the head to rest on his collarbone.

The longer you watch, the further your mind drifts. Thinking of kissing that exact spot where his collarbone dips, tracing your tongue up to sink your teeth into the skin of his earlobe. What sound would he make? Jungkook has proven to be a moaner, but there might be more than meets the eye.

You know he’s rough. The feeling of his fingers digging into your hips had lasted for long after you’d parted. You know that the sounds he makes go straight to your core. How he growls, groans, grits his teeth. His —

His tongue piercing.

The glint of it in the light catches your eye. You’re drawn to it. How such a small thing could have this effect on you. He knows how to use it and you haven't even felt the worst. The quirk of his eyebrow as he exposes it purposely tells you that much. He’s taunting you.

Your entire mouth goes dry when he scrapes his teeth over his lip again, holding your gaze steady through the mirror. Chest rising with a shaky breath on your part, he ever so slightly tilts his head. A smirk paired with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“What?” Your stomach flutters.

He shakes his head with a lopsided smile. When he turns you come face to face with his chest. It’s not as easy to openly stare this directly. Without the barrier of the mirror your words are lost to you.

You swallow, following his hands as they start to button his shirt. A sight that’s equally enticing and saddening. Watching the stretch of his chest disappear behind the fabric, narrow waist no longer apparent. You can’t help but notice the roughness of his fingers. You’ve felt it. They’re calloused, never used sparingly for anything. A small tattoo hides there, one not easily spotted with how the koi fish draw all attention to them.

Euphoria is etched into the side of his middle finger. A tattoo you’ve seen time and time again, but you don’t know it’s meaning. The dragon symbolises strength, power, will, and the koi fish represent balance. He’s even spoken to you about the tarot cards on the inside of his upper arm, that one drunken night in your living room. The reverse magician for untapped potential, the upright eight of pentacles for mastery and honing skills. Yet, the small word on his finger raises a question for you.

Jungkook suddenly grabs you. You would’ve screamed if his mouth didn’t silence you.

He shuts the door behind you, pressing you against it with enough force to knock the breath from your chest. Tongue licking into your mouth you mewl, grappling for something to hold onto. Your fingers automatically loop into his belt.

With a hand behind your head he angles you up, grants himself access to your warm mouth. You arch into him, every nerve on edge. Every sound distorted by the way he kisses you so deeply you can barely fight for control. No, he’s got you in the palm of his hand, literally. One hand sliding to your ass, digits slipping into your pockets to hold you tight.

Jungkook lets out a deep sound, one that rumbled in his chest and pulls an equally ruined moan from you. His lips are pressing, demanding, speaking ‘you are mine’ into yours. ‘I want you. Now’.

Still stunned, you tighten your fingers into his belt, trying to kiss him back but getting lost in his ministrations. The leather material is tough, but you manage to get him closer. A thigh between yours, you shift your hips up to find friction for both of you.

The kiss is beyond messy. Both needy for oxygen but needier for each other. Breaths mingle and the way he runs his tongue over your top teeth causes a lewd yet startling sound.

“Fuck,” you grumble, breaking from him suddenly.

His eyes remain closed as he licks his lips. “I’ll second that statement,” he whispers hotly, “sitting on the sink or bent over it?”

You choke on your own spit, causing him to finally open his eyes and come back from wherever his mind had wandered. “Jungkook!”

“What? That was a very serious statement.”

“Not with everybody on the other side of the door!”

He grins, tonguing his smiley piercing in a habit that has driven you crazy so often. “Fine.” Straightening up, he swiftly tucks his shirt back into his jeans where it’d come undone under your hands. “Just so you know,” he says, leaning into your ear and opening the door, “all you gotta do is say the word and my room’s right there. I’ll find a way to silence those pretty little moans of yours.”

All the hair on the back of your neck springs up at his words. The way his breath fans out over your ear, lips just shy of grazing you. Tongue darting out, brushing the shell of your ear. You have no reply but a shaky intake of breath.

He leaves, and you’re left to stare at your disheveled form in the large mirror. Hair tangled, you curse under your breath. Jungkook probably won’t mind if you borrow his brush if he has no problems basically swallowing you whole, right?

With the hair at the back of your head finally in place again, you shake your feelings. You can't let Jungkook just play you like that with no repercussions. Two can play this game.

This is how you find yourself walking back into the room, briefly receiving a knowing look from Jimin. You pay him no mind. All you do is glance at the obvious space beside your brother and Hoseok, who now sit at ease in each other’s embrace. Yet, there’s one spot that’s more inviting.

Jungkook knows what you’re up to as soon as you look at him. He narrows his eyes, but you unsuspiciously smile as you take place in his lap as if it’s the most normal thing to do.

Everybody is thinking something, briefly glancing at how you comfortably shift on his thighs. Jungkook himself is less displeased than you’d thought, one hand coming to rest on your leg. Beneath you, you can feel the hard muscles of his thighs and you wonder what it’d be like to ride them.

“Now that everybody is here,” Jimin says, “we can finally do what we came here to do.”

All eyes turn to Taehyung, who gives a deep annoyed sigh. You all know there’s no way around Jimin’s plans. What Jimin wants, Jimin gets. That includes Taehyung, Gucci slippers, and the present that will make his boyfriend very happy even though he’d never admit it. It doesn’t come wrapped in anything big. And as to Taehyung’s wishes, there’s also no singing happy birthday. But the light blue envelope which Jimin retrieves from his bag are enough to make the other’s eyes grow wide like saucers.

Taehyung’s name is written on the front, and he looks at it as if it’s foreign. “I said I didn’t want anything.”

Jungkook fingers suddenly start moving — possibly absentmindedly — trailing the outer edge of your jeans. It tickles. His other hand is placed beside him, keeping him steady as he supports you. There’s enough room for you to squirm but you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Or the fact that Jungkook is nosing the back of your neck and shoulders. His breath fanning down your shirt and over your back.

“You did say that,” Jimin says, pecking Taehyung’s lips. “But you also said there is something you do want. You just didn’t mention it in regards to your birthday.”

The younger man frowns, sitting up a little straighter and running a nervous hand through his black hair. “Jimin.”

“It’s a present from all of us, Tae,” Jungkook speaks up, fingers falling from your leg.

The second everyone looks away again from the man who’s currently trailing his lips dangerously close to your skin, you shift. Immediately Jungkook’s hands reach for your hips that now sit flush with his. There’s no space left and he can’t do much more than rest his chin on your shoulder with a trembling breath.

You try to concentrate on Taehyung opening the envelope. Somebody speaks, but you don’t catch it over Jungkook’s quiet swear.

“I...” Taehyung’s uncertainty shows, frowning at the piece of paper. Reading every word carefully at least twice. “What is this?” He looks up, giving everyone the same confused expression. Jimin’s sitting on the armrest beside him, trying his hardest to hold back the tears.

Luckily, Hoseok hasn’t lost his ability to speak. Unlike Jungkook who’s gripping your hips like a vice. “Jimin told us that you’ve been wanting to get a tattoo removed and covered. So we all chipped in to get you a laser-removal appointment.”

Taehyung’s still looking at the paper as if it might catch on fire, but he nods quietly. “You all did this? For me?”

Jimin makes an excited noise. “He means to say thank you.” He grabs his boyfriend, kissing him firmly on the cheek, mumbling a congratulations amidst the embrace. “We all want you to be happy, Tae.”

The man nods again. “Thank you, really.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Hoseok gets up first. Preventing the disaster of things getting uncomfortable and preventing Taehyung from shedding the obvious tears that brim his eyes. “Okay, let's all eat. Come on.”

Getting up, Jungkook’s hands stop you immediately. He keeps you tight, grumbling for you to stay put. You chuckle. Talking big game, sure. But his amusement has faded now that you have returned the favour. He doesn’t let go until everyone’s turned to the table.

You stand, swing in your step. Only turning around to catch Jungkook untucking his shirt to shield his very obvious erection from view.

“Really, Jeon?” you whisper with a giggle.

He clicks his tongue. “You want to tell me you’re not wet right now?”

You look straight at him as you lie: “I am not.”

Jungkook merely smirks, starting towards the table but stopping to whisper: “Good girls don’t tell lies.”

You shiver, breath hitching as you watch him sit down as if he hadn’t just said that. Getting on the upper hand on this guy is impossible, he’s just prepared to go one step further every time. But you’re not ready to give up just yet.

As much as you lied. As much as your need for him is rapidly increasing. You’re not going to let those words sink in. If anything you can prove him wrong. Good girl. What a joke. Maybe.

Everybody sits, chatting comfortably as the table-top grills warm up. An array of food sits on the large table. Chicken, beef, squid, side-dishes, Taehyung’s favourite red bean paste, and Jimin’s home-made secret-recipe dipping sauce. There’s way too much food, but nobody will complain about that.

“Hey Jungkook,” Jimin starts, “how is that whole situation with the guy from Australia going?”

Jungkook sighs. “Not too great to be fair, it’s nearly impossible to find a proper date that suits us both.” For the past two months Jungkook’s been trying to get an internship with an artist he admires. They’ve gotten in touch through instagram, and he’s been beyond excited. Talks of him going to Australia for a month keep getting more serious.

“You’re not going,” Hoseok says with a mouth full of food, “unless you’re trading with someone. I can’t man the shop alone and you know it. It’ll be bad for business.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook shrugs it off. “Anyway, he said it’ll most likely happen next summer if anything. We will see.”

Yoongi coughs, sipping water to rinse down the extensive spices. “Jimin, that sauce of yours. It gets me every time.”

“It’s good!” you and Jungkook interject in unison, causing everybody to shoot you a weird look.

“What?” you question. “Actually, give me some more.” You lean over, firmly planting your hand on Jungkook’s thigh without thinking about it. Leaning over, It lands closely enough to the top that you can feel that he’s still hard — if not harder than before.

He chokes on his food, taking a deep breath through his nose.

You sit back down, but your hand remains in position. His thigh tenses under your touch, warm, trembling as you drag your nails up like he’d done to you earlier. Whatever conversation currently plays goes straight in one ear and out the other for you. One hand busy dipping slightly charred chicken into the small bowl of red sauce, the other squeezing Jungkook’s leg.

He can’t do anything. Not without making it obvious what you’re doing. So he shifts, legs falling open and giving you access you weren’t expecting. Possibly on accident. Or in the hopes that you will actually touch him. Your heart races, but your body gets the better of you. As does your curiosity.

The second your fingers touch the head of his dick through his jeans, he jerks. Sitting up straight and snapping his legs closed.

“Jungkook?” Taehyung questions.

You shoot him an equally confused look, playing your part. “Everything okay?”

From the other end of the table Jimin looks at you with raised eyebrows. A gesture which you return with glee.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jungkook mumbles, “just bit my tongue.”

Smooth. Either everyone believes him, or they all know but unanimously decide to not speak and continue the dinner as normal. Even Jungkook seems to have decided to not reciprocate your touch this time. Both hands above the table, sitting with his legs spread as before.

You cross yours, realising that you are still turned on as you do. “So, now that everybody knows about how Hoseok is dating my brother. Can I like ask for asylum so that I won’t have to get my ears assaulted anymore?”

Jimin snorts. “You poor thing.” He raises his chopsticks, pointing at Jungkook. “I’m certain you can arrange something with him. You know. You sleep with him, Hoseok sleeps with Yoongi.” No filter. Jimin’s absolute inability to not say certain things strikes again. Your cheeks run red.

To your surprise, Jungkook doesn't react.

“Okay,” Yoongi interjects. “Can we please not talk about my little sister having sex.”

“Hey!” You point your utensils at him. “I’ve had to listen to Hoseok literally pound you into the mattress more times than I’m comfortable to admit. You guys have no decency, why should I—“

Jungkook’s fingers snaking into your waistband shuts you up. “How about we just don’t talk about people fucking at the dinner table. I mean we—“

“You’re one to speak Jeon!” Hoseok cuts in. “I’ve heard you often enough. I’m not sure what kinda shit you’re into but she should consider this her official warning if you haven’t given her one yet.”

His words don’t quite impact you. Not with the way that Jungkook starts gently rubbing circles over your exposed hipbone. His fingers still hooked tightly into your jeans, holding you from moving. The touch to your skin is barely there, but it’s enough to put him on your mind the entire time. To make sure you don’t forget the wetness between your legs that he’s causing.

Jungkook is idly engaged in the banter, and all you can think off is his fingers on your skin. What’d be like to feel them elsewhere. Deeper. Rougher.

You uncross your legs, try to relax. To get your mind off the way he tugs you just a little bit closer. Close enough to be able to hook his foot around your ankle and spread your legs wider. Why would he — His hand comes down just above your knee.

Every breath you take is a feat, you’re hyper aware of how you sit, how he touches you. This is payback. He doesn’t move his palm, it just rests there like a threat. Or a claim that you’re his.

“Y/N?” Yoongi asks

You shake awake. “Yeah?”

“I was saying,” he trails, “that once you’re done with school, we could all try to go on a holiday together.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds good. Like, far?”

Everybody starts protesting, complaining about money and fears to fly. Jimin and Taehyung both counter Hoseok’s offer to take a longer flight to a further destination. But Yoongi feels that staying inside the country defeats the purpose of a holiday.

You? You just want Jungkook to take his hand off your leg. Not slowly start trailing it up, but there’s no stopping him. Not without swatting at him, or likely trapping his hand between your thighs. The latter situation seems too dangerous.

So you let Jungkook move his hand agonisingly slow until it reaches the juncture of your thighs. Here, he stops.

Luckily you’re not the only one who still feels like they’re bursting at the seams. Jungkook’s still hard, bouncing one of his legs and shifting in his seat twice before suddenly getting up.

He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but not before trailing a finger along the back of your collar. Little shit. Is he really going to rub one out in the bathroom right now?

Your mind immediately wanders to the visual. Jungkook standing over the bathroom sink, gripping it hard as the other hand slides up and down his length in fast, practiced motions.

Jimin distracts you from this though, asking you about your current study. You do your best to give him coherent answers, but your mind keeps floating back to Jungkook. Dampness between your legs growing fast.

Should you go after him? Maybe that’s what he wants. His earlier offer ringing through your mind, “I’ll find a way to silence those pretty little moans of yours.” Crossing your legs again gives you some friction. Core throbbing even though he’s barely touched you over the course of an hour.

You’re so worked up that when he finally returns you can feel the heft of his eyes on you. He doesn’t touch you, but his presence alone is enough to make you tense. The feeling of anticipation sits heavy in your stomach. It makes you jittery, in a good way. but you’re oh so impatient, fingers itching to touch him, feel him, taste him. It’s a thirst.

It distracts you fully from the dessert. When you look over to Jungkook he’s tonguing at his smiley piercing. Quickly, you avert your eyes back to your plate as if it’s gonna burst into pieces if you don’t.

True to character, you end up getting sticky caramel sauce all over the side of your hand. You lick it off, not thinking much of it but aware of how Jungkook’s watching you. No, you can’t eye-fuck him while everybody is there.

Never have you been so relieved for a dinner to end. Everyone’s getting up and helping to get the dishes in the sink. They’ll be washed later, or tomorrow. Now, you‘re going to go out to a local bar. Maybe there you and Jungkook can get some privacy — or get laid. Whichever way you want to put it. At this point you don’t care about where it happens anymore.

Jungkook lingers by the door, purposely waiting for everybody to leave the apartment under the pretence of having to lock the door. Yet the second the door just falls closed, the first thing he does is grab and entire handful of your ass and squeezes. Hard.

“Shit.” The words slip from your mouth and everyone turns back to look at you. You stare blankly ahead for a few seconds, Jungkook walking past you. He’s easily stopped by you inconspicuously grabbing the back of his shirt. “Is today the twenty-ninth?”

Yoongi looks at his phone. “Yeah, why?”

The lie is easily constructed. “I have a paper to hand in tomorrow at 10am. Fuck. I forgot to send it in early.” You cast your eyes up towards Jungkook, hoping he catches on. “Can I borrow your laptop? I promise I’ll be fast.”

“Yeah,” he answer quickly, “sure.” Jungkook gives his friends a look. “We’ll be right out, don’t wait up for us.”

The other four men are silent, and you know how fucking stupid you look. How obvious it is. But if anybody dares open their mouth about it, you’ll just admit the truth at this point.

“Okay,” Hoseok shrugs, his answer enough to make the others follow him.

Jungkook’s quick to turn towards the apartment, hands fumbling with the key. Only Jimin turns around to look at you. The blonde wiggles his eyebrows, pushing his tongue in his cheek twice coupled with a swift motion of his hand.

You flip him off, holding up your middle finger and turning back to Jungkook.

The door swings open, your stomach tightening with excitement. Hands slightly trembling from the nerves but you get no time to waste a thought on it. To even think about what’s going to happen.

He’s all over you the second the door falls closed. Barely inside. Kissing open-mouthed, hands fumbling for clothes. He untucks your shirt from your jeans, pushing your cardigan off. You struggle with the buttons on his flannel.

The kiss is filled with impatience. You want this. Now. The sounds that fall from both of you are swallowed by the lewd noises of your tongues. You give him no slack this time. Determined, you press into him, promptly tearing the last two buttons off as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He moans as you trace his tongue piercing — louder when you bite and suck at his bottom lip. You let yourself revel in the sounds just a little, fingers finally tracing the ridges of his abs. Tweaking a nipple piercing, Jungkook lets out the most strangled whine you’ve yet heard from him and you smile into the kiss.

Suddenly you feel your jeans slack against your waist. “Off?” he asks, thumbs already hooked into your waistband. Your own fingers sliding his belt out of the loop.

“Now,” you growl into the kiss.

Your jeans and panties are at your ankles in seconds, and you kick them to some corner of the hallway. Jungkook doesn’t linger. Doesn’t gaze up at your now fully exposed cunt from his brief position on his knees. He just grabs you by the back of your thighs and hoists you up around his waist when he stands again.

Like this, the rough material of his jeans rubs against you, making you hiss. It’s good, rough, but good. He knows, smirking into another wet, sloppy kiss. You have no mind for the way your teeth clash. Too busy trying to undo his buttons and zipper between your bodies. Like this you can feel your own wetness slip against your wrist.

“I still can’t believe,” Jungkook mumbles, suddenly hoisting you up even further, “that you,” he bites at a nipple through your shirt, “chickened out on the other nipple piercing.”

You let out a dry chuckle that dies off into a string of moans as he pushes up your shirt and starts mouthing at your chest. He pays special attention to the one nipple that’s pierced. Pressing his tongue into it, followed by a breath of cold air. You shiver, toes curling as he holds you tightly against the wall.

“Not every—everybody,” you pant as he teases your nipple with his tongue, flicking it with his piercing, “is into pain like you, Jeon.”

He lets out a short laugh, mumbling something into your breast that sounds like a version of ‘not now,’ as he sucks a bruise into your skin. You must look like a mess, you think as you slide your fingers through his hair. Marks blooming. Bare centre pressed against his abdomen as he's using all his strength to keep you up in this position.

“Jungkook,” you whine, voice pitching a little too high. “Put it in, or I’ll chop it off and show you pain.” Like this, you can’t feel his dick. But you know he’s hard. He still was when you undid his jeans. It must be painful at this point. Especially with how you’re rubbing your wetness all over his stomach.

He groans, bracing a hand against the wall. “Hold on to something.”

You grapple for his shoulder as you tighten your hand around his waist. The other hand finds one of the coat hangers on the wall beside you. “Fuck,” you realise how hard this is. How’s he keeping you up?

Within seconds, Jungkook manages to pull a condom from his back pocket. Uncanny. Prepared and ready to go. You internally praise him for it. He holds you pressed against the wall as he tears it open and slides it on. A pained moan falls as he touches himself after being hard for so long. The sound is delicious, his head falling against your shoulder.

A thin sheen of sweat already coats your bodies. Shirt plastered to your skin, Jungkook’s fringe starting to stick to his forehead. But he shows no mercy.

His hands now come down to your ass, and your arms start shaking from holding yourself up.

The first initial brush of the head of his cock against your centre has you clench up. Excitement rushing through your body. Finally, after hours, days, months, you feel him. You moan. “Jungkook please.” The position doesn’t allow you to shift. To sink down onto him on your own accord.

He knows this. Letting out controlled breaths as he finally starts letting you down. There’s no resistance because of how wet you are. Your nails dig into his shoulder, his sink deeper into the flesh of your ass. Every single twitch of your core has him shuddering, but you can’t help it. The relief that floods your body at finally feelings him is insane.

You feel like a teenager, on edge this easily. At this point, your arms really start burning, and you try to shift. “Jung—FUCK!” The coat hanger snaps, breaking off the wall and causing you to lose your hold and sink down on him, fast.

In shock, Jungkook catches you and slams you against the wall. Your head knocks back, and Jungkook lets out a harsh breath through his nose as he bottoms out. “You good?”

Laughing, you nod, causing him to smile sheepishly despite the fact that you almost literally fell on his dick. “Please just,” you shift your hips a little to search out any friction, “move. Please move.”

Jungkook obliges, pressing his entire body up against yours. Pulling out, he slides back in to the hilt with one smooth thrust and you can‘t even form a noise. Your moan dies off in your throat, eyes closing at the feeling. The angle makes you feel every single inch of him, so deep. Pressed right up against your g-spot from the get-go. You shiver, clench, making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he growls, “so wet.”

Nails digging into his shoulders, you edge him on. Clenching and shifting to get him to finally just move. And move he does. Though the position doesn’t allow for more than him rutting straight into your most sensitive spot and sending you into a frenzy.

High pitched moans and deep grunts fill the hallway, your shirt protecting you from the harsh rub of the wall. All you can feel is his cock moving snug inside of you. Minimal friction, but maximum contact, you feel him twitch every time.

It’s hot. Suffocating. Having him this close. It’s delirious, toe-curling. You’re a mess, head thrown back as he just keeps moving. His pelvic bone rubbing right into your clit when he changes angle and— oh. “Shit,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” he answers, smiling into your neck. “I—“ he pauses to curse loudly, not stopping his movements. “I’m not gonna last.”

You barely hear him, whining in the back of your throat.

“I’m serious,” he repeats, licking up the side of your neck. “I’m close.”

Can you care? You feel like you’re on the edge, but also nowhere near your end. But in the haze of pleasure you nod, finding his lips as you try to not lose the feeling. “Don’t stop.” Holding him tight, you push his flannel of his shoulder for better purchase. “Don’t,” you lick over his bottom lip, “stop.”

Jungkook moans — a loud sound — as you find purchase to meet his movements. He moans, your cunt suddenly tighter, sucking him in. It takes only two, three more thrusts before he stills and comes so hard he nearly drops you. His entire body shudders as he twitches inside your walls. Your legs slip down, supporting your own weight before you actually tumble.

“Fuck.” He hides his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavy and wet against your chest. With his dick softening inside you, your core aches for more. Dripping still, you need friction. Release. “I’m — shit — wait.” Jungkook lets you down properly, slipping out of you. “Jesus, I’m so—“

You hush him, carding your fingers through his hair as he’s too embarrassed to meet your gaze. The empty feeling between your legs ignored for now. He’s hot, and his back and shoulders are covered in scratch marks. When he finally leans back you see his half-undone hair, his flushed skin. Eyes dark, lips red and swollen. A sight to behold.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, touching his chin to make him look up at you. Thumb running over his bottom lip, you press inside to feel the tip of his tongue. Deeper, to find his piercing. He responds lazily, sucking on your digit. “Why don’t you go down on your knees.” Your voice is a drawl, laced with the arousal that’s still burning through your veins like wildfire. “Show me that tongue piercing is more than a pretty accessory. Hmm?”

His eyes darken immediately. He gives you a taste of what you might expect, swirling his tongue around your thumb. Your stomach swoops, legs still shaky. Pulling off with a pop, he chuckles at your expression. “Let's get to the bedroom. I’m not gonna be able to hold you up while I eat you out.”

So casual. “I’m not afraid of you and your golden tongue medal Jungkook. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Jungkook makes a face, tongue swiping over this inside of his cheek in a habitual motion. A cocky one. “Okay, have it your way.”

Sinking to his knees, trailing down your thighs, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. That alone is enough to unbalance you with the way he licks and nips up your inner thigh. Goosebumps, everywhere. You can’t give in. Not when he hasn’t even—“Shit.” Jungkook goes straight for the jugular, teeth not-so-gently sinking into one of your folds as his thumb slides between them to find your soaked clit. His tongue follows immediately. The pressure of his piercing sudden, and your hand flies to his hair that’s still contained by the elastic.

“Jungk—Fuck.” You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as he wraps his lips around your bud. Your body isn’t prepared.

There’s sudden, hard suction — no warning, no build-up. Jungkook sucks at you in bursts, at just the right angle where the ball in his tongue presses slightly left and — “Ah, shit, shi—fuck!” Your entire body starts vibrating, your high approaching so fast you lose control of your one leg that supports you. He expected it, because his assault stops just in time to catch you from toppling over on him.

He gazes up, lips and chin shiny, eyes glazed over and heavy-lidded. “Bed?”

All you can do is nod. Your mouth dry, breath trembling, legs jelly.

The two of you kiss when he stands and you taste yourself on his tongue ever so slightly. His bedroom isn’t far, but neither of you can let go. His hands sliding under your shirt, finally lifting it off your body. Immediately, his hand find your chest, touching, squeezing, tweaking. You moan, your own hands busy with pulling him along and tugging the last bobby pin from his hair.

Jungkook’s jeans are finally discarded when you enter his bedroom. Now less rushed, you see the floral pattern on his hip. You touch it, roses curling over his skin and disappearing under his boxers only to resurface on his thigh.

You’d take your time to trace him, remember him. but right now you’re too hungry for release. You can’t remember the last time you were this needy. This turned on. High-strung. Just thinking of his mouth has you shivering and rubbing your thighs together.

“On the bed,” Jungkook mumbles against your mouth as you kiss him. “Unless all you wanna do is make out for the rest of the night.”

You chuckle, smiling as he pushes you onto the bed and presses you against the dark covers. He seems gentle now, though your aware that what’s to come is anything but. He’s proven as much.

Back arching while he kisses down your chest, you let your own fingers roam the planes of his back. His skin is soft, ink dancing at the edges of your vision as he trails down your body. Teething at a nipple, scratching over your hip bones — Jungkook has you trembling by the time he reaches the apex of your thighs again.

You whine for mercy.

He smirks knowingly, as he breathes out over your folds. Not another second wasted, yet a teasing edge to his actions, as he lickes up your sex.

Shivering, your hands tighten in the sheets. His tongue is warm, pressing against your core while he uses a firm hand to spread your thighs further apart for him. Like that, he holds you open, pausing, breathing against you. The lack of contact lasts too long, and you shift. Canting your hips up for anything.

Eyes closed, you don’t see him move. You feel the nudge of his nose first and then... Cold. “Ah.” The press of his piercing right against your clit is ice cold and firm. Your entire body tenses up, legs nearly clamping down around his head. It’s downhill from there.

Jungkook holds you open with one hand, fingers painfully firm. He's in a controlled frenzy. Hard, swift, slurping, not a part left unattended as he pulls sounds from you, you weren’t aware you could make. The way he flicks the metal against your clit sends you keening. Back arches, painfully so with curled toes and tug at his hair — he groans. The vibrations going straight into your cunt, his tongue flattening.

He almost lets you rut up into his face. Your hands tightening into his locks, hips shifting up over his mouth. Jungkook moans into you, shoulder tensing and eyes closing. Like this, you get the fast friction you want, the build-up you need, the—

“Fuck.” His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you from his hair. “If you wanted to sit on my face, you could’ve just asked.”

Your core clenches at the thought. Him under you, gripping your thighs as you use his mouth for your own pleasure. Those dark, wide eyes looking up at you. All fucked-out. “Can I?”

He chuckles. “Absolutely not. You can use me next time. Tonight you’re mine.”

His. It falls off his tongue so easily, so deeply. You are his.

He dives back in, no longer stopped by the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair. No, he knows what to do now. Swiftly he slips a finger into your sopping core. The way he curls that one finger into you is as if he’s done it before. You’re still sensitive from when he fucked you but he doesn’t care.

He knows he’s got you when your entire body starts shaking. You can’t stop it. The combination of his finger curling in and out of you, and his tongue rapidly circling your clit — it’s too much.

You whine loudly. Entire body on fire, tingles going down to your toes. There’s no way you’re not soiling his sheets. Him using the back of your hand to swipe over your core so he can gain purchase says enough.

His lips wrap around your clit again and he does that thing. That sucking, the flicking of his piercing. Warm, wet, rapid — this beats any toy you’ve ever used.

You can feel your high approaching like a freight train. A heavy weight in your lower abdomen. It hits you before you can even warn him. White flashes beneath your eyelids as you arch off the bed, hands pulling at the sheets.

He doesn’t stop. Gentle sucking and licking until you fall limp onto his sheets.

Eyes still closed, you’re vaguely aware of what’s happening. It’s like you’re floating, a strange, fuzzy feeling. He closes your legs, and you whimper his name with furrowed brows.

“I warned you,” he chuckles, lips pressing into your shoulder. “You didn’t listen to me.”

When you open your eyes he’s beside you, leaning on one arm. His fingers trail the shape of your chest, brushing over a very sensitive nipple. A leg slung over your limp ones. The line of his body — he’s gorgeous. Yours.

“Fine,” you sigh, “I’ll admit it.” His lips twitch up into a smile before you even finish your sentence. “You’ve ruined me. Now you’re stuck with me. I’ll never want anything but you and your devilish tongue for the rest of my life.”

Jungkook’s smile widens further, holding in a laugh as he reaches over to kiss your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for sweetheart,” he whispers, tongue darting out to touch yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

When he pulls you in, you can feel him. He’s rock hard against the juncture of your hip. Feeling him again...the thought makes you shudder. But you can also feel the sensitivity linger in your core. “No,” you squeal playfully when he rocks his hips into yours. Skin still separated by his boxers. “I need time to recuperate from all that!”

“You get ten minutes.” He nips at your chin, noses the line of your jaw. “I’ll show you what it really feels like to be ruined. We can discuss the rest of your life later.”

You grim, turning to capture his lips, legs intertwining further. “Yeah, Jeon? Gonna prove to me you’re not just a one pump guy?” The little giggle in your sentence conveys your teasing.

Jungkook’s hand grips your ass hard, pulling you flush against him. “Ten minutes are over, brat.”

An unpleasant tingling in your arm is what wakes you in the still-early morning. You sigh, shifting to feel the weight that rests over your shoulder. Jungkook.

Everything comes tumbling back. Him fucking you against the hallway wall, eating you out and making you see stars, and then fucking you again — twice. You screamed his name until you cried both of those times. The dull ache between your legs is the proof of it, as is the dryness in your throat.

Right now he lies asleep with his head on your shoulder, hair splayed messily over your skin. Your legs are twisted, and when you turn you can feel that he’s sporting a very serious hard on. “Jungkook,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair.

He groans, lips brushing your skin as he wakes. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers sending warmth up your spine. When he finally opens his eyes he blinks hard, once, twice, to look up at you with a wide, almost innocent gaze. Your heart skips as he looks up at you so softly. There’s a gleam in those big brown eyes as the sunlight catches them, almost making you forget all the sinful things he did to you.

“Morning,” he croaks.

“My arm.”

“Oh, shit,” he laughs, moving from his position. To your surprise, he ignores his obvious arousal even when it’s unceremoniously pressed against your leg. “Com’ere.” As much as yours, Jungkook’s voice is rough, tainted by your previous activities that went well into the depth of the night.

You let him pull you against him so that your cheek rests on his chest, his fingers carding through your hair. He kisses the top of your head, a warm gesture. Neither of you speak for a good while, almost drifting back to sleep as you bask in the gentle morning. There’s no more tension or heaviness between you. As much as the ‘what now’ question lingers on your tongue, you swallow it. Because you know.

Through the night both of your desires had become clear. Far beyond the point of lust. Jungkook growling that you’re his as his hips drive you into the mattress, and again when he kisses you tenderly after. You asking him if he’s yours, and receiving an affirmative nod as your mouth sank down on him.

No. You don’t need to have that conversation right now.

You reach out for his hand, brushing the euphoria tattoo on his middle finger. “Now I know why you got this tattooed here.”

Jungkook lets out a breath sound, humming into your hair. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget.” This less-sweet answer is paired with his other hand slipping down between your bare legs to brush your sensitive folds. “How ab—“

“Jungkook?!” Hoseok’s voice startles you both. Eyes widening with fear, hand clasping over your mouth.

“What?!” Jungkook calls back, hand coming back to your hip.

“Me and Yoongi are going out to get breakfast, do you want anything?” Your brother is here? Did they hear you?

Jungkook groans. “Where are you going?”

Your hand remains clasped over your mouth, but Jungkook doesn’t seem anything other than annoyed with his friend.

“The bakery,” Hoseok answers. “The one down south.”

“Just the usual then, and an americano.”

There’s a brief silence on the other side of the door, until... “Y/N? You want anything?”

Your face turns red, too shocked to really answer.

“She’ll have what I’m having,” Jungkook calls back with a smile.

“Hey!” You playfully shove at his chest. “I want a latte!” you call towards Hoseok.

“Sure,” Hoseok laughs. “Oh, by the way. One of you is paying for that coat hanger. And Y/N, your panties are cute but I’m not picking them off my floor.”

If you weren’t embarrassed to begin with, you sure are now. Neither of you went back to clean the mess you made in the hallway. Meaning that now only Hoseok saw, but your brother did too and—

There’s a scream “JEON JUNGKOOK! YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!!” your brother wails, Jungkook’s entire body tightens up in response. He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

There’s a long silence, the sound of Hoseok muttering in the distance. You look up at the man beside you, confused. Jungkook’s face is drained of all colour. He known.

You’re about to open your mouth when Hoseok returns.

The door opens, and his voice carries in louder than before. “Jeon, if that nasty ass condom isn‘t gone by the time we get back, you owe me both halves of the rent. Capiche?”

Jungkook gulps. “Yeah.”

Hoseok slams the door shut, getting the message across. The both of you hold your breath until you hear the front door fall closed. Then you erupt into laughter, hands caressing bodies as tears appear in the corners of your eyes.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We have about half an hour,” he whispers, turning you so that you’re lying on top of him.

“I think we can clean up a hallway in less than that Jungkook.”

“Good,” he smirks, sliding your thighs apart so that his hard cock presses between your folds. Bare, no barriers. “Because I want you to ride me.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought, but don't send me any graphic or vulgar asks please.

Special thanks to: @ayxxha @dee-ehn @spicykoreantatertots @taekooksfxck @sevenwho @sunshineangelhobi @hobisbeautifulass @thinksshesawolf @franklytae @softlyjiminie @out-of-jams @mygsii @joonsrack @namjooniebjonesuniverse (i'm sorry if I forgot someone)

@minjoonalist @ironicarmy @kookiesspacebuns @dammit-jjk @jesuislalune @setton00 @hplsmoon @lexi-the-fandom-master-love @thefiresfromheaven @nctssidehoe @tenshikoo @miladavidson @catsandstrawberries @cvbachacbitch @x-guccipeaches-x @yeontanie21 @feel-the-sunset @jimilogy @si1verrose @bishuthot @shane-knight @carolsummerlove @doki-do-ki @topanga27 @vanitypoko @kookoo-kachoo

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kavikaslana · 3 years ago

Text

Part 1

Shigaraki

Definitely jealous

He’s the clingy brat, so just imagine getting a s/o while he’s around

He’s gonna make it real clear that you’re not their lover, you’re just their really good friend

^ He tells himself that

Dude’s even more protective of you

He’s clingy in the same way a kid is

^ Imagine having a 4 or 5 year old kid that got at least most of your attention with your new lover

\Yeah, that’s the type of pain in the ass he is

Wouldn’t be surprised if he just picks you up and walks away from them

It’s more of like a game for him than anything, because now his goal is really just to piss them off

^ Or get all your affection, either one

^ Probably both actually

He’s a little spoiled brat so don’t expect him to share, that’s basically the only thing you really need to know

Death threats, arguments, fighting, you name it, it’s all going to happen sooner or later

Dabi

He’s not too bad actually

Just expect a lot more teasing from him

^ You might get hit on once or twice too

Very few negative interactions with your lover for an extremely long time

That doesn’t mean they’re positive though, it’s usually really awkward conversation

But for the most part, he’s fine with it

As long as he still gets a drink with you every once in a while, he’s perfectly fine

Probably runs off with them at least once to burn down the nearest GameStop to piss off Shig

^ That’s his way to bond with them at this point

Your room might as well be his now too

^ He’s either in there with you, your lover, or snooping around

He will still hog you to himself after a mission to treat any new wounds or burns, that’s never gonna change

^ Your lover’s just gonna have to learn to deal with it

Probably starts arguing with them more when he actually notices he has less time with you, but not nearly as extreme as Shigaraki is

Magne

Probably one of the first ones to try and befriend them

She doesn’t have an opinion on them really, if you ask she’ll say they’re alright and that’s it

They get along enough to share your time at least

She keeps to herself around them for a long time, really only getting in their business if it involves something negative about you

Eventually she at least gets to the point with them where she’ll willingly start long conversations with them

Every once in a while if Toga has extra face masks or whatever kind of skincare routine you guys are doing, she’ll ask them if they want to join

She supports it but she could care less if they were there or not, I’ll be honest

^ As long as they make you happy, she’s fine with it though

All in all, she’s pretty neutral

Toga

She’s pretty excited actually

Just a new person to spice up her day as far as she’s concerned

Definitely the friendliest out of everyone, except Kurogiri

She likes showing off her knives to them and how her quirk works

They’ve played a few games together, not very many, but enough that they know how the other plays

She’s the most supportive of your relationship

^ Every day there seems to be a new rant about how cute you guys are attached to your door

She’s not jealous at all really, it’s very rare that she’ll get jealous

^ It’s rare, but if her day’s already been bad and she can’t spend time with you or vent, she’ll probably threaten to rip out their spine

Always offers to help them whenever they’re doing anything

Sometimes she goes on walks with you two, and Magne if she’s up for it

She’s tried to give you guys a ship name before, but she couldn’t decide on one

Spinner

He could care less

Just don’t be too loud when he’s trying to relax, and he’s ok

^ Then again, Toga’s already loud, and Shigaraki’s tantrums don’t help, so he probably wouldn’t notice after all

He does his best to stay away from them because he’s nervous

^ And scared they’ll judge him

If you really want them to meet each other, then you’ve gotta be the one to introduce them

He’s not really talkative, so if you’re trying to get them to bond, have them ask each other yes or no questions

^ Or card games

Probably interacts with you less because they’re seemingly always there whenever he wants to tell you something

Kurogiri

He’s a little annoyed at first because they just made dealing with Shigaraki a bigger pain

But they make you happy, so he lets it slide

Drinks together are a must

Maybe a smoke too, but he’s not a smoker, so just drinks for him

^ He’ll still go outside with you or your lover just to keep you guys company though

Tries his best to get to know them, but he always comes off as serious and ends up scaring them a bit

He’s probably yelled at them once or twice because they started arguing with Shigaraki

^ Shigaraki’s also tried to get him to throw them out so it’s not all their fault

He’s either found doing chores, calming down Shig, or replacing anything the brat decayed

^ His schedule barely changed honestly

Twice

He needs a bit of encouragement at first, but eventually he’ll talk to them

When he talks, he’s always next to you, and he only talks for a minute or two

^ So just long enough to know their name and age pretty much

When Toga goes up to them, he’ll sometimes follow her

He does try to know them better for your sake, but he’s nervous so he needs the extra encouragement

He likes joining you guys and Kurogiri for drinks and/or smoke breaks

Every once in a while, he’ll help them with something small or ask how you two met

^ He’ll ask how you two met a million times, and yet every time you tell him, he always seems as interested as the first time

Just be patient with him and they’ll eventually get to a point where he’s somewhat comfortable around them

Mr. Compress

He’s annoyed too for a while

He’ll be stubborn with them just so they go away and leave him alone

Tell him something they have a common interest in, and he might talk to them about it

He helps them pick small gifts for you, like snacks

Not the biggest fan of them, but he’ll help them if they ask nicely

Suddenly becomes protective of you

^ If they even say your name, he’s already behind them, just to make sure they weren’t talking shit about you

He doesn’t mind having conversations with them, but the second they say anything even slightly insulting about anyone in the league, they’re getting at least a few bruises

^ He won’t listen to their vents too, he doesn’t care, but he’ll listen to yours

If you complain about them at all, he’ll suggest you break up with them like Shigaraki

He brings you small items like rings or your favorite drink just to annoy them

@undefined--person

#bnha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #kurogiri #toga mha #himiko toga #toga himiko #magne bnha #magne mha #spinner bnha #jin bubaigawara #twice mha #dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #league of villains

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dreamyyang · 4 years ago

Text

summary: you made taeil’s undead heart soar and he was absolutely addicted to the feeling.

pairing(s): yandere!zombie!moon taeil x reader | kim doyoung x reader

warning(s): swearing, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, gore (kind of..?), minor character death, cannibalism, non con (taeil forcefully kisses the reader)

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: this is pretty heavy stuff so if any of the aforementioned content triggers you, do not read. please note that I do not condone taeil’s behaviour and that this is purely a work of fiction. my fic is not an accurate representation of taeil’s actual personality.

part of @127-mile’s addiction collab

emotions were as foreign to moon taeil as brains and human flesh once were. while he doesn’t mind either of them, they were just very hard to come by. that changed when he got a job at the qian family’s mortuary, courtesy of qian kun, a mutual friend. johnny had already explained taeil’s special situation to kun, who agreed to give taeil access to the bodies so long as he worked as kun’s assistant. it was an excellent arrangement for both men - taeil could finally eat some proper food while kun finally had help. for obvious reasons, not many people were willing to work at a morgue, especially for such low wages.

taeil managed to ease himself into a routine of work, brains, sleep then repeat. while many people would eventually go insane from being constantly surrounded by cold, still bodies, taeil couldn’t care less. a zombie couldn’t ask for a better arrangement. while he did not experience emotions, he still felt a semblance of peace.

at least, that was before you showed up, completely unannounced. of course, your arrival wasn’t completely random, kun did warn taeil that his cousin was coming home after getting their phd, but you weren’t what taeil expected. he had this mental image of you being stoic and reserved. he thought you’d briefly acknowledge him with a slight nod while visiting your cousin and that would be it. imagine his surprise when he came to work and was greeted by a smile brighter than the sun. you were like the human embodiment of a meadow of flowers in the summer - warm, wonderful and welcoming. hell, you even smelled like flowers.

suddenly, his daily routine was ruined.

most mornings, you would meet him at the mortuary, looking as fresh as a daisy, and hand him an equally fresh box of baked goods from the bakery next to your clinic. if it was a slow morning, and it usually was, you would make small talk with him while kun went over the day’s plans in his office. he began to cherish those morning conversations with you and his undead heart would sink when the clock struck nine and it was time for you to hug him and kun goodbye. from then on, he was usually in a sour mood for the rest of the day, not humouring the silly jokes kun made as they worked. he would get off work with a dull ache in his heart if you weren’t there to pick kun up or offer to take them out for drinks.

this abrupt change frightened taeil more than anything. why was he suddenly experiencing these strange feelings? he hated it. every day, he was going through a rollercoaster of emotions that would be decided by whether or not he saw his boss’ cousin. it was so absurd. in the past five years of him being a zombie, he hadn’t felt such extreme emotions before. they all felt so...so human.

when he consulted johnny about these strange occurrences, his friend began to howl with laughter, “dude, it’s so obvious!”

taeil glared at johnny, “care to explain what exactly is so obvious?”

“you like y/n. why else would you be constantly pining for them?”

taeil scoffed. johnny must have smoked something because there was no way he liked you. at best, he had known you for three months and it isn’t like you regularly spent time together. plus, you were related to his boss. johnny had no idea what he was talking about, he was full of shit.

“that’s bullshit. I don’t buy it,” taeil shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

“no I swear, it’s true! we drove past this factory and they were just beheading these chickens out in the open,” you sighed. “anyway, the sight was so sickening, I’ve never looked at meat the same way since.”

“yet you decided to be a thoracic surgeon.”

you shrugged, “yeah but operating on people and eating meat are two different things. I don’t mind looking at flesh and blood but the thought of eating any makes me sick.”

taeil silently thanked you as you made that statement. ever since johnny had suggested that taeil liked you, he’d been searching for reasons not to like you. and of course, there’s no way he could like you if you were a vegetarian. you would be absolutely disgusted if you knew what his main diet consisted of. yet, every now and then, he felt his mind drifting away to a different mental list - a list of the things he liked about you.

he liked how you would come up with the most absurd conversation starters, just to make him crack a smile. he liked how your hugs were warm and comfortable. he was even beginning to like the fuzzy feeling that would envelop his heart whenever he was around you. you made him giddy and lovesick and eventually, he didn’t mind anymore. being around you all the time forced him to accept that he had very strong feelings for you. in fact, he was certain that even as a human, he had never had feelings this intense. there was just something special about you that had him feeling some sort of way. normally, he would have been afraid of how you controlled your heart but now? he was in too deep to care.

he decided it was better for him to just accept the fact that he loved you. why try to fight it? it was highly unlikely that he would feel this way about anyone ever again. he had to hold onto you, he would be insane to let you go.

finally, he plucked up the courage to confess to you. he was falling for you more and more every single day, and not being with you was slowly killing him. he decided to surprise you at the clinic where you worked with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. he planned to treat you to lunch at a romantic café then confess to you while walking you back to the clinic. he had rehearsed the little speech he wanted to give over twenty times with johnny, who repeatedly assured him that everything would go well.

it did not go well.

taeil was greeted by a unpleasant surprise when he reached the entrance of the clinic. there you stood, his beloved y/n, in another man’s arms. taeil watched, horrified, as the man placed a soft kiss on your lips. you looked so happy with him and it broke taeil’s heart. he felt awful as he watched you smile at the man. that same wonderful smile that he wished was for his eyes only. it felt like a cruel joke to have your laughter fill his ears as tears pricked his eyes. taeil was glad that nobody was paying attention to him as hot tears stained his cheeks. he couldn’t have gotten away sooner, pushing past the people on the street to go home.

he quickly texted an excuse to kun about how he felt sick and would be gone for the rest of the day. it wasn’t exactly a lie - he did feel sick and every time he thought about you and the stranger, it only got worse. he ripped up the bouquet and the plastic that had been wrapped around their stems, screaming as he did it. pain bled into fury as he destroyed the beautiful flowers. he was unbelievably angry and wouldn’t stop until every last petal had been snatched from the base and scattered on the floor. he was blinded by rage as he made a mess of his apartment floor. finally, the bouquet had been completely ripped apart and tears cleared taeil’s vision.

he dropped to the floor, feeling miserable as he stared at the mess, tears streaking down his face. he loved you so much, but someone had stolen you away. how dare that asshole? you were supposed to be taeil’s, how could he just come between the two of you like that? how incredibly selfish of him. taeil had to get rid of him, as soon as possible. the more time you spend with that jerk, the more he’ll ruin you. taeil scowled at the memory of the two of you kissing. he will pay.

it was decided. taeil was going to make you his, one way or another. whether you liked it or not.

“I hate this, taeil.”

taeil nodded, feigning sympathy as you pouted and continued to complain, “doyoung’s been so busy the past week that he hasn’t been able to call me even once. he just sends brief texts… I really miss him.”

“that sucks, y/n, but you know, it’s a very demanding job.”

“yeah I know…but would it kill him to at least call to say good night?” you sighed, sipping your tea. “whatever. thank you so much for listening to my rant, taeil, I really appreciate it. you’re an awesome friend.”

the word stung, but taeil tried not to show it as he smiled and promised you that he didn’t mind. which was half true. taeil could never get tired of listening to you talk about any topic but one - kim doyoung, your boyfriend. it didn’t really matter, though. soon, taeil would make sure that you would forget all about that piece of shit. soon, moon taeil would be the only thing on your mind, just like how you were the only thing on his min

but first he had to punish you. you deserved it. if you hadn’t gone and dated another man, he wouldn’t have considered such a thing. you needed to be disciplined. you belonged to taeil and he was going to make sure that you remembered that fact. so he sat there in front of you, politely nodding as you vented about your boyfriend, and tried to think of a suitable punishment.

“I know I’m complaining about him a lot, but I really like doyoung,” you laughed. “even though he took me to a barbecue place for our first date.”

that’s when a lightbulb went off in taeil’s brain.

for someone who couldn’t survive without eating brains, taeil sure was an idiot. somehow, he’d gotten roped into a dinner date with you, doyoung and doyoung’s sister, jisoo. at least he managed to convince you to let him host the dinner at his apartment, insisting that he wanted to make a good first impression on jisoo. you’d wiggled your eyebrows and teased him about it but he knew, deep down, setting him up with someone else was hurting you. but you wouldn’t have to worry about hiding your feelings for much longer - taeil would soon relieve you of your misery. ideally of course, he wouldn’t want to start off your relationship with a double date with other people. not to mention your little punishment, but hey, all relationships have their ups and downs.

now if he could just get that pesky little jisoo out of the way.

after briefly stalking doyoung’s instagram account, taeil managed to find jisoo’s account and figured out where she worked. getting her to stay away was easier than he thought it would be. all he had to do was press a small knife against her neck and she was begging for him to leave her alone. he left her trembling in the alley behind her office, with her tears stinging the small cut that ran down the side of her cheek. he wasn’t worried about her telling her brother since that’s who he’d be visiting next.

he had to say, out of all the humans he’d made dishes out of, doyoung was certainly the best. probably because his meat was actually fresh, but you really seemed to enjoy him as well.

“god taeil, your spaghetti is wonderful. I can’t believe doyoung and jisoo are missing out,” you nearly moaned as you devoured your dinner. “these are the best vegan meatballs I’ve ever had. seriously, how’d you make this?”

taeil shrugged, “I used a pretty basic recipe, although I did use something extra special for those meatballs.”

“would you mind sharing what that special thing is, master moon?”

taeil’s smile dropped, his expression completely serious now. you didn’t think much of it, taeil was probably just being dramatic. however his tone as he spoke his next sentence sent a chill down your spine.

“enough dilly-dallying. tell me, sweetheart, did you really think you could get away with dating another man?”

you were too stunned to speak, what the fuck did he just say?

“woah, don’t get shy now. did you seriously think you could go be someone else's whore and I wouldn’t get mad?”

“taeil, what on earth are you talking about?”

you looked like a scared and helpless little rabbit and taeil would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel some type of way. taeil’s predatory gaze burned into your eyes, ensnaring you and refusing to let go. you were confused. why was taeil behaving like this? why was he so angry with you? but you were certain about one thing: tonight was not going to end well for you.

with a gentle voice, you tried to calm him down so the two of you could have a rational conversation but taeil wasn’t having any of it. he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up to your feet, stepping away from the dining table and pulling you close till your chest brushed against his. suddenly, his steely gaze slightly softened.

“y/n, my love, I hope you know that I didn’t want to do this to you, but you left me no choice. you forced my hand.”

tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. taeil was getting frustrated. you knew exactly what he was talking about yet you were acting as though taeil was speaking in cryptic messages. taeil noticed your tears and tsked, cupping your cheeks. there was no point in you crying now. the deed was done. taeil was hoping you’d learnt your lesson so the two of you could move past this.

“don’t cry, sweetheart. at least, not until you know what I did.”

“but taeil, I don’t even know what I’ve done,” you sniffed lightly.

“darling, I love you. and I know you love me too, you don’t need to say it. but why did you have to go and date doyoung? do you know how much that hurt me?”

you shook your head, “taeil, I really didn’t know how you felt. but I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”

taeil glared and tightened his grip on your jaw, “fucking lies! that dickhead doyoung has brainwashed you. oh my precious y/n, I feel so awful for punishing you the way I did, but how else will I fix you?”

“what do you mean?” you asked, afraid of the answer he was going to give you.

“those vegan meatballs, darling. although I suppose the term ‘doyoung meatballs’ would be more accurate.”

your beautiful features were twisted into a look of pure horror as realisation dawned upon you. taeil couldn’t help but let his lips form a maniacal grin. he was rather proud, even if he did say so himself. doyoung would never be a problem ever again. nor would anyone else be, for that matter. taeil knew that you were his good, obedient little y/n. you wouldn’t dare to hurt him ever again. satisfied, he leaned in and forced you into a kiss. you were too shocked to fight back.

as he pulled away, he pushed the hair out of your face.

“remember to behave yourself, darling.”

#nct 127 #nct #moon taeil #nct taeil #nct writings #nct fics #nct angst #nct 127 angst #nct 127 x reader #moon taeil x reader #taeil x reader #taeil angst #yandere!nct #yandere au #zombie au #nct au #yandere!taeil #nct horror

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years ago

Text

The Sanguine Web - Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Alright, here’s part 2, I hope you guys like it. Part 3, the finale, is coming soon! Let me know what you guys think or if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter. Love you all xx

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, angst

Summary: The clocks ticking and you’re trying to get over Peter

Prompts

Masterlist

Part 1

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The last person I expected to see when I showed up for therapy was Peter. Well maybe not the last person, but he was certainly up there. And I couldn’t help the uncomfortable feeling bubbling in my stomach when my eyes met his.

“Hello (y/n),” Dr. Morrison smiled at me.

“Hi,” I blushed as I looked between them, “What’s going on?”

“I just had a few questions,” Peter blushed, "I wanna make sure I'm doing everything I can."

I appreciate the gesture, I know he just wants to help, but I don't like that he came out to see my therapist. It just feels wrong, and I'm worried about what she may have said to him too…

"Right, that's, um, great, but I'd really like to get started if you guys don't mind," I turned my attention to Dr. Morrison, "I've got a lot to talk about."

She nodded, "Of course. Peter if you decide you want to make an appointment you can call in. It was lovely to meet you."

"You too," he smiled back at her and squeezed my upper arm, "Call me when you're done?"

I just nodded, "Yeah, I'll call."

I followed Dr. Morrison back to her office and waited nervously for her to settle in to address me.

“Sorry about that, he stopped by just a bit before you came,” she sighed and took a seat across from me, “How have you been?”

“Good…” I blushed, “What did you two talk about?”

“He just wanted to know some of the things he could do to help you through this, he’s very sweet,” she smiled, “(y/n) we have a confidentiality agreement, I promise I would never tell him anything about you or your condition. I just told him some of the things he can do to help.”

“Like what?”

“Well I told him the most important thing he could do was just listen to you, that he should give you space when you ask for it, and support whatever decisions you make about this.”

“Did he seem receptive?”

“Very, he seems like he really just wants to help you anyway he can.”

“Did he ask about the surgery or anything?”

“No, but he did ask if I thought you’d be able to get over this.” “A-And what did you tell him?”

“I told him if the people around you are as supportive as him then I think your odds are great.”

“Oh,” I sighed and let myself relax about the situation, “I’m glad you think so.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Hey,” Peter smiled as he took the seat across from me, “So, you wanna tell me how it went now?”

“Everything was fine,” I smiled back, “I just wanted to talk to you face to face.”

He nodded, his expression quickly turning worried, “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, you mean besides the plants growing in my lungs?”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m trying to lighten the mood,” I sighed, “Peter I know you had good intentions, but it made me really uncomfortable that you were asking Dr. Morrison about me.”

His cheeks flushed instantly, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean t-”

I cut him off before he could start word vomiting, “It’s okay, I know you're just trying to help, but I really need you to take a step back here. I can’t get better if you're hovering over my shoulder all the time.”

“I just wanna help.”

“I know, and I know you’re used to being a hero and helping everyone all the time, but it isn’t your responsibility to save everyone.”

“I know that, but it is my responsibility to save you.”

“You can’t.” I hated watching the way his jaw clenched when I said it, but he had to hear it. “Nothing Spiderman can do is going to help me. I have to do this myself, and the best thing you can do for me is be my best friend and be here for me in the ways I ask you too.”

He hesitated, taking a few moments to think over his answer, he sighed before he finally answered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone to talk to her. I just wanted to know how to help, but she told me the same thing. I just wanna be able to do more for you.”

“Well you’re gonna be there with me when I tell everyone right? That’ll be a big help,” I smiled, trying to cheer him up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh Peter. You know I’d trust Spiderman to save me from most things, but I just need Peter okay?”

“You aren’t being harsh,” he sighed, “It’s just…” he hesitated again, “I don’t wanna lose you and not be able to do anything about it, again.”

“You won’t,” I promise before placing my hand over his, “I’m gonna be fine, and you’ll help me get better just by being here for me. I promise if I need anything from you, I will tell you.”

“Okay,” he looked down at our hands, “So you still want to tell everyone soon?”

I nodded, “Yeah, like within the next couple days. I think it’ll be better if they all know soon,” it was my turn to blush then, “I hope everything’s okay with you and MJ, thank you for not telling her though. I’m sorry I made you guys fight.”

“You didn’t make us fight,” he squeezed my hand and returned both of his to his lap, “We’ve just been butting heads over everything lately.”

“I’m sorry P, you can tell me about it if you want.”

“It’s alright, I don’t want to stress you out.”

“You won’t,” I assured, “Peter I’m your friend too, if you need to vent I’m here.”

He leaned back in his chair and yet another sigh left his lips, “I don’t know, we just can’t seem to agree on anything lately. Every tiny thing makes us fight, I mean just the other night we started yelling at each other because we couldn’t even decide where to get dinner.”

“I’m sorry Peter, did you guys have some big fight that started it or something?”

“No, not really, er, kind of? I don’t know, you remember when we went out to that bar with Betty and Ned? And we were out like really late?”

“The one with the mechanical bull?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, that one. Anyways, she just got really upset we were out so late, I guess we’ve just been fighting ever since.”

“Well obviously I’m not really one to give relationship advice, but there’s always ups and downs, I’m sure you guys will get better.” It’s hard to comfort him because part of me doesn’t want them to get better, and another part of me hates me for letting that thought cross my mind. “Is she still just mad about that night?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not apologizing for spending time with my friends,” he hummed, “I love her and everything, but she just hasn’t been very fun to be around lately.”

“Have you asked her what’s going on?”

He glances up at me and purses his lips, “Let’s talk about something more fun.”

“Okay,” I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the slight tickle before it becomes something more, “You wanna see the xray of my lungs?”

He frowned and shook his head, “No, surprisingly I don’t think your terminal illness is a very fun subject.”

“I think I forgot how to have fun,” I reached for my drink, taking a big gulp to drown out the incoming cough, “Honestly I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else since I was diagnosed.”

“Are you okay?” he knit his brows in concern.

I nod quickly, “I’m fine, just a little tickle.”

He opens his mouth to say more but stops himself, “Okay, well, since I can’t punch the problem away for you, how about I show you how to have fun again?”

“Hmm,” I tapped my lip, pretending to think it over before nodding, “Okay, but no strenuous aerobic exercise.”

“Alright so no mechanical bulls this time,” he winked and stood, offering me a hand up, “Come on, I’ve got a couple other things in mind.”

I just rolled my eyes and let him help me up.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Are you okay?” Betty raised a brow at me, returning to the kitchen with pizza in hand.

I nodded, “Yeah, just a little nervous.”

“Nervous? It’s just dinner with our friends.”

“I know, I’m still just a little nervous.”

“Okay…” she pursed her lips as she placed the pizza on the table in front of me, “You’re not pregnant or something are you?”

“What?” I flushed, “No, I’m not pregnant.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, you haven’t been feeling well and you’re all nervous about dinner. I feel like you’re gonna tell us all that you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not,” I assured.

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation, “I’ll get it,” she offered, “Try to chill baby mama!”

“I’m not pregnant!” I snapped.

The door opened to reveal Peter, Ned, and MJ, with cupcakes and soda. It’s like we’re having a party, too bad I have to tell everyone I’m dying.

“Hey guys,” I greeted them with a smile, “You’re just in time, the pizza just got here.”

“Great,” MJ smiled to me, setting the cupcakes right beside the pizza, “I’m starved. Did you guys pick out a movie?”

Betty nodded, “Yeah, (y/n) said she had something picked out.”

“Yeah, I was thinking we could watch the movie after dinner though, it might be nice to sit at the table for once,” I laughed awkwardly, I think everyone could tell something was up.

“Sounds nice,” Peter squeezed my shoulder, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I assured, “Just hungry.”

“Let’s get you some food then,” he practically shoved me into one of the chairs at the table and took a seat besides me, “Well come sit down you guys.”

MJ raised a brow at him, “You good.”

“Yeah, I’m great,” he nodded, “I’m just really, really hungry.”

“Okay, you said you weren’t hungry in the car though,” she rolled her eyes as she sat at his other side.

“Well I got hungry.”

“Guys come on,” Ned groaned, “You fought the whole car ride here, can’t you guys just wait until you’re alone?”

Peter blushed, “Yeah, sorry. This is about (y/n), we shouldn’t be fighting.”

Betty knit her brow in confusion, “What do you mean about (y/n)?”

His blush spread up to his ears, “Nothing! Nothing at all! I just mean cause she suggested we have a movie night! Not like I know something you guys don’t or anything…”

“Oh my God Peter,” I sighed, hiding behind one of my hands. “Sorry,” he sank into his chair.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, “I have something to tell you guys.”

“You are pregnant!” Betty accused with a smile, “I knew it!”

I rolled my eyes, “No, I am not pregnant. It’s not something nice or happy or anything good, that’s why I was planning on waiting until after we ate.” Everyone was silent and all eyes were on me. “I’m sick, um, really sick,” I can seem to get the words out so I look to Peter for help.

“She has Hanahaki’s,” he sighed, “I only know because I caught her coughing up a flower.”

They stayed silent, I think they were all just taking it in for a minute. Finally Betty spoke.

“So when you went to the doctor a few weeks ago…”

I nodded, “Yeah, and Peter’s known for almost a week now.”

“They haven’t gotten you in for surgery yet?” MJ knit her brows in confusion.

“I’m not getting the surgery.”

Betty frowned, “Why not?” “There’s a chance that I wouldn’t be able to fall in love again if I did, I don’t wanna risk it.”

“She’s been going to a therapist,” Peter added.

“Who is it?” Betty demanded.

“I’m not telling anyone who it is, I don’t want anyone blaming him for anything.”

“Well have you tried to talk to him?” MJ frowned, “Maybe this is just a big misunderstanding.”

I blushed, “He’s seeing someone. He doesn’t feel the same way. I’m gonna be okay though, I’m gonna move on.”

“Okay it’s great for you to try that, but you need to at least be considering the surgery,” Betty shook her head, “You sound insane right now.”

“Betty,” Peter shot her a glare, “She’s doing her best, and she already heard it all from me.”

“Well she’s still trying to pass up a life saving surgery so I think that talk went awesome,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not going to die,” I tried to defend myself, “I’ve been going to therapy and I’m making good progress, I’ll be able to get over him and be just fine.”

“Is it moving quickly?” MJ frowned.

“So far I’ve been on the slower end, I have my three week check in in a few days and they’ll see if it’s gotten any worse.”

“Well what can we do for you?” Betty sighed, “If you really don’t want surgery…”

“You don’t need you to do anything. I just thought you guys should know.”

“I guess if it’s slow there’s still time for you to try moving on,” Betty reasoned, “Maybe when it gets worse we can talk about the surgery again.”

“It’s her decision.” I was surprised when MJ jumped to my defense. “If she doesn’t want the surgery she shouldn’t get it.”

Peter frowned, “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not encouraging her, but it’s her choice. We shouldn’t try to push her into a surgery she doesn’t want.”

“Okay in every other case you’re right, but not when the alternative is dying.”

“Well she said she can get better, and she’s the sick one, so I think she knows what she can and can’t do better than you can.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t, we’re just saying if she can’t then she should consider the surgery.”

MJ turned to me, “(y/n) didn’t you just say that you didn’t want the surgery?”

“Why are you making this a fight? And why are you bringing (y/n) into this? She doesn’t need to stress out about some pointless argument.”

“Stop babying her for fucks sake Peter she’s a grown adult, not your daughter,” she rolled her eyes.

“Okay so you find out our friend is dying and you still don’t want me to spend time with her?”

Part of me liked watching them fight, and I hate myself for ever letting those thoughts enter my mind. I want them to be happy, both of them, and I don’t want them to fight, not really. Even if some evil part of me likes it.

“Guys I-” I cut myself off with a cough, I try to drink something and force it back down, but I’ve got no such luck. I know what’s coming, I can feel them tickling my throat, so I got up from my chair and stumbled over to the kitchen sink. I leaned over it and coughed not one but three flowers up, along with a heavy amount of blood. It’s the most I’ve ever coughed up at once.

“Are you okay?” Peter rubbed my back, his eyes swimming with concern.

I nodded, “I’m fine, I just need some water.”

Everyone’s eyes were on the sink, they were all just staring until Betty cleared her throat, “Just go lay down, I’ll clean this up.”

“Guys I’m okay,” I insisted.

“No, she’s right, you should sit,” MJ grabbed my shoulders, directing me towards the couch, “Peter get her some water.”

He nodded, “R-Right, on it.”

The rest of the night went about as expected, the fight was dropped and everyone babied me until they went home, then Betty babied me until I went to bed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dr. Shaw was silent as she examined my charts, she didn’t look happy, so I could only assume it was bad news. “It’s getting worse isn’t it?”

She nodded, “It’s made a significant jump from last week, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t getting better, it’s just the nature of the disease. How’s therapy going?”

I sighed, “I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I feel like it’s going well until I’m around him again, then it just kind of hits me.”

She pursed her lips, “Well I don’t know so much about the psychology of it, but I’ve seen a lot of patients get better after a confession, whether that be through reciprocation or just being able to move on.”

“How much longer do you think I have?”

“It’s hard to say, you were progressing slowly but then you had this jump. If it continues at this new pace I’d estimate we’ll have to hospitalize you within the week, if it slows down again we’ve maybe got another two or three weeks.”

“Alright,” I sighed, “I’ll, uh, try to get better I guess.”

She gave a forced smile, “(y/n) we can still get you in for surgery if you change your mind.”

I shook my head, “No, no I can do this.”

“Alright,” she scribbled some things onto notepad, “I’m upping your prescription, we’ll see if we can slow it down again.”

“Thank you doctor.”

I debated what to do on my way out, finally deciding that I’ll need to see Dr. Morrison more frequently and see Peter less frequently. Then I decide I want to go talk to MJ, I think if I can feel less guilty it will help, and I’ll feel less guilty if I can help them get along again. So I swing by her house before I go to get my prescription. It’s a little awkward, we’ve never hung out alone, it’s always with Betty or Peter or someone else, I guess we aren’t that close really.

“Hey,” she greeted as she opened the door, “Come on in.”

I followed her inside, my hands clasped nervously in front of me, “I’m sorry to bug you, I just wanted to apologize about movie night.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she assured, “Peter and I have been fighting anyway.”

“Yeah, he told me,” I blushed, “But I am sorry, and I wanted to thank you too, you’re the only person who’s been on my side about the whole surgery thing.”

She nodded, “Yeah, I mean it’s your choice in the end, but if I were you I wouldn’t make the same one. I’ve been in love, I’ve dated people I’m in love with, and if I were in your shoes, I mean like, if I had to pick between Peter and a life saving surgery, I would pick the surgery everytime,” she smiled and I worried that she may know, “But you know, even if I don’t agree with your choice, you deserve to have someone on your side.”

“Thank you,” I glanced down at my hands, “Sometimes I think I’m making the wrong choice too, but I don’t want to never feel like this again… Anyways, I really wanted to make sure you and Peter are okay. And if I’m putting any kind of stress on you guys I wanted to say I’m really sorry.”

She sighed, “I don’t really know what we are right now, we just can’t seem to see eye to eye on anything lately.”

“I’m sorry MJ, you know I could talk to him if you needed m-”

“No, no,” she laughed, “The last thing I need is for you to talk to him about it. He’s still mad that he thinks I stressed you out the other night.”

“I’m sorry, you didn’t though, I just stressed myself out.”

“He’s just worried, he doesn't want to lose anyone else,” she shrugged, “I think he’s taking it worse than you actually, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do with him if you don’t end up getting better.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m gonna be okay.”

“It’s good that you’re being optimistic, but if you’re really refusing the surgery then there is a chance you don’t get better,” she sighed, “Sorry, you shouldn’t be thinking about that, but it’s just a possibility. And it’s harder for us to be sure you’ll be okay, we aren’t you, we don’t know how you're feeling on the day to day.”

I nodded, ‘Yeah, I, uh, I just gotta stay positive. It’s not easy though, you know I think I’m okay and then I see him again and suddenly I’m not, o-or I see his girlfriend and I just feel so guilty…”

“(y/n), can I ask you something?”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Is it Peter?”

It’s like the whole world slowed down as I tried not to go tense or blush or do anything that would give it away. “No, of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you, we’re friends.”

“I’d understand if it was, I know you can’t help forming feelings, and I wouldn’t get mad either. I know you wouldn’t try to make a move or anything.”

“It’s not him,” I coughed into my hand and glanced down at my phone, “I’m sorry, I need to get to the pharmacy before they close. Thank you for talking with me.”

“Of course,” she was still frowning when she stood up, “I’ll walk you out.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I’d secluded myself after my doctor’s appointment and awkward encounter with MJ, telling everyone I just needed a few days alone. I only left the house once, to go to therapy, where I think I did make some progress, but then realize I didn’t as soon as Peter showed up at my place again. I wanted to send him away, I really did, but I just couldn’t.

“You still haven’t told me how the doctors went, or therapy,” he smiled as he returned to my room, a tub of popcorn in hand.

“Therapy was fine,” I sighed, “The doctors weren't so great, she said it got a lot worse since my last appointment. She upped my medication though.”

His face dropped instantly, “How much worse?”

“She said I’d be hospitalized in a week if it continued at that rate, but like I said, she upped my meds. Hopefully that will help slow it down again, then I’ll still have two or three weeks.”

“Only two or three?”

“That’s still good Peter, most people don’t even last a month.”

“Do you think you can get better by then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” another sigh fell out of my lips, “It’s a little weird, I know we’re never going to be together but that isn’t enough, I have to just not be interested. I know I’ve moved on from people before too, but it’s like I suddenly can’t remember how to do that.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into him with a frown, “You’ll do it, I know you will,” he let his head fall against mine, “It’ll just click, and you’ll get better.”

“I know,” I took a couple of pieces of the popcorn and decided it was probably best to move on, “So, did you and MJ make up.”

He shook his head, “No, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Peter we just talked about how we both know I’m going to get better, so you can’t baby me.”

“I don’t know, she was mad that I was being so clingy to you, and I thought she’d drop it once she knew what was going on, but she didn’t. And I’m mad she’s mad about that, and I’m mad she thinks it’s okay that you’re refusing surgery, and you know, we were already fighting before, but this is just making it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” I felt that wave of guilt again, “I’m really sorry, I don’t want you guys to stress out over me or anything, it’s really not worth it.”

“Don’t apologize, you can’t help being sick, and you aren’t making anything worse. It was all already there. I’m just really upset, she isn’t taking this whole thing as serious as she should be,” he kissed the top of my head.

“She is, you’re just handling it in different ways.”

“I’m supposed to go over there later so we can talk,” he turned his attention to the tv with a sigh, “I don’t even know what to say, I think we’re just drifting apart.” “Don’t say that Peter,” I scolded, worrying that I may be causing a bigger issue than I thought, “It’s just a rough patch, and my whole situation is making it worse. I’m sorry, I should have kept it to myself.”

“You aren’t making anything worse (y/n), the whole surgery thing is just another problem to add to the pile, it’s got nothing to do with you, none of our problems do. Please don’t think that or stress yourself out over us, the only thing you need to worry about is getting better,” he cupped my face, “And you absolutely should not have kept this to yourself, you’re my best friend and I need to be there for you through this, it’s my problem just as much as it is yours.”

“She doesn’t think I shouldn’t get the surgery,” I tried to deflect because if I really thought about what he said I’d start to cry, “She told me she thinks I should get it, but she just wanted me to have someone on my side.”

“I know what she thinks, that’s what the whole issue is. I’m on your side, all of us are on your side, but you’re wrong here, and she shouldn’t even be saying there are sides in the first place. She shouldn’t tell you it’s okay for you to choose dying over the risks of the surgery either. Whether she means it that way or not, I just feel like she’s saying she’s okay with you dying, and I really needed her to side with me on this but she won’t even think about it. Maybe I’m being selfish, but if pressuring you is how we get you to have that surgery then I’m fine with that,” he looked away for a minute, I think he was about to cry too, “I love you, and I just want you to get better more than anything. I don’t want you to be focusing on anything else either, all of your energy needs to be focused on getting better. So please don’t worry about us, whatever happens will be fine just as long as you are.”

I did start crying, and I felt ten times worse because it made him start to tear up too, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he pulled me into his chest, rocking me lightly, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The movie was discarded in favor of sitting quietly while Peter tried to make me feel better. It worked eventually, but I just ended up passing out. I would have thought Peter would have just left after that, but when I woke up he was still right beside me, dead asleep with his head on my shoulder. I freaked out because I remembered he was supposed to go to MJ’s, so I shook him awake as quickly as I could.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned at me, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I assured, “But we fell asleep, and you were supposed to go to MJ’s, you gotta call her.”

“Right…” he sat up slowly, picking his phone up off my nightstand with a frown, “Yeah, it looks like she’s been calling, I should probably head over there…”

I nodded, “Yes, you most definitely need too, and you need to go now, I’ll text her and explain too.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he ruffled my hair and smiled affectionately, “You just lay right here all day and you focus on getting better alright?”

I furrowed my brow but nodded, “Okay… But it would only take me a second.”

“It’s fine (y/n), just focus on you,” he kissed my forehead before climbing out of my bed, “I’ll swing by later to check on you again, try to start hating him while I’m gone okay?”

I blushed and nodded, “I’ll give it my best shot.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Peter never came back, never even texted me. I wouldn’t think anything of it if he didn’t lead a double life as Spiderman, but he did, so I was worried. I texted him once, a simple ‘you good?’ but got no reply. It was really nerve wracking, but around midnight he finally replied.

‘Got busy on patrol, be there soon.’

It relaxed me a lot, but I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. I was curious too, I didn’t want to be nosey, but I wanted to know how things went. I wanted to make sure they were okay. At least until Peter slammed into my window, scaring me so bad that I fell out of bed and decided he could fall off the building for all I cared.

“Screw you Parker,” I snapped as I opened the window, “I’m sick, scaring me like that is totally unethical.” He laughed, “You keep telling me not to baby you,” he reminded, “Can I come in?”

I rolled my eyes and got out of the way so he could crawl inside, “God, can’t you just use the front door?” “You’re jealous,” he teased, drawing my blinds so he could take off his mask, “So, do you hate him yet?”

“Not even a little,” I sighed, “Was she mad?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we had a big fight.”

“I’m sorry,” I frowned, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He stayed quiet for a long time, staring at the wall in front of him before finally speaking, “We’re taking a break.”

“L-Like a break up break?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I mean maybe we’ll fix things eventually, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon.”

Butterflies filled my stomach, happy, nervous ones. They made me sick.

“Oh,” I didn’t really know what to say, “I’m sorry Peter, are you okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve both known it was coming. I should have called you, I just wanted to blow off some steam first.”

“That’s okay.” I knew I shouldn’t have let Peter spend the night, I should have made sure he went to see her on time. “I’m really sorry Peter, I could try to talk to her if you wanted.”

“It’s okay,” he wore a small smile, “I think this is better for both of us. I mean we’ve been dating since high school, and we’ve changed a lot since then. I think maybe we’ll work better as just friends… In the future I mean, I don’t really want to see her right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

I know it’s my fault, at least in part. I know he won’t say it because he’s trying to protect me, but I know it. I know that I stressed them both out, especially Peter, and that couldn’t have done anything but make things worse.

“Quit apologizing, you didn’t do anything,” he fell onto my bed with a sigh, “You know what would make this all feel better?”

“What?”

“If you got all better so we could go do something fun.”

“We can do fun stuff now.” He shook his head, “No, I want to go to the amusement park again, like we did last summer, but just us this time,” his small smile fell to a frown, “But you can’t go until you get better, so you need to get better soon.”

“I’ll try my best,” I promised.

He shook his head, “No, not trying your best,” he sat back up suddenly, “I need you to promise me you’ll get better.”

I nodded, “I’ll get better.”

He pulled me into a hug, quickly kissing my head, “Good. Now I think I’m gonna go on patrol for a little bit again. Call me if you need me okay?”

I nodded, “I will.”

“Good,” he pulled his mask back on and drew my blinds again “And now that I’ve met my quota of visiting sick kids for the night, I’ve got to get back to the real superhero business.”

I rolled my eyes, “Glad I could help, be careful out there Spiderman.”

I locked up after he left and felt good for about one minute, then the guilt set in. I couldn’t avoid it anymore, I couldn’t push it down any longer. I didn’t know what to do about it, I just had to get it out. So I went to Betty’s room in hopes of just trying to vent a bit, luckily she was still awake.

“What’s on your mind?” she smiled at me.

I shrugged, “I don’t know, a lot I guess.”

“Okay,” she scooted over and patted the spot besides her on her bed, “Tell me what’s up.”

“Well I’m still dying,” I blushed as I sat down, “I don’t think I’ve gotten better at all actually.”

She frowned, “Just because you aren’t better yet doesn’t mean you haven’t gotten better at all.”

“But I haven’t gotten better Betty, I know I haven’t,” I stopped myself with a sigh, “Peter and MJ broke up.”

She nodded, “Yeah, MJ’s been texting me, how’s Peter?”

“He seems okay,” I was trying so hard not to cry, “It was my fault.”

“What?” she laughed, “(y/n) you had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes I did, I put all this pressure on them and I made things so much worse and I-” I lost the battle with my eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t putting pressure on anyone, and even if you did, it was just something else on the pile, they’ve been having problems for awhile, you know that,” she hugged me, “You shouldn’t feel bad about anything, you’re just trying to get better.”

“No I- Betty it’s Peter,” I just blurt it out between sobs. It feels good to put it out there, to tell someone, but it didn’t shake the guilt at all.

“What do you mean it’s Peter?” she frowned.

“The boy, it’s Peter, I’m sorry,” I feel like a little kid, crying to their mom over a broken toy. She seemed to be in shock for a moment, “That’s why you wouldn’t tell us who?”

I nodded, “I can’t put that on him! And I feel so bad Betty, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t feel bad, look you can’t help developing feelings for him,” she assured, “Just calm down, it’s not like you’ve ever acted on it, we all know you wouldn’t do that. And you know Peter wouldn’t want you to feel about that either. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t okay Betty! I’m dying! I’m gonna die, I don’t wanna die!” I cried into my hands, “And I just can’t get over him!”

“Yes you can,” she insisted, “Maybe it doesn’t feel like you can right now because you’re all worked up, but you can. Just take a deep breath, let’s calm down okay?”

I took a deep breath, trying to get my sobs under control, “I don’t want to get over him.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, “You have to.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I passed right out after admitting things to Betty, and I had felt better after admitting things to her, but then I woke up coughing. And I just couldn’t stop. Water didn’t help, coughing out the flowers didn’t help, nothing helped. I’d stop for a few seconds and then it would just start right up again. I started getting lightheaded, to the point that I had to sit down. I barely even noticed when Betty entered my room. “Are you okay?” she frowned at me.

I nodded, “I’ll be okay.”

“Drink something,” she handed me my water bottle.

I shook my head and pushed it away, “I already did.”

“Drink more,” she insisted.

I took a gulp just to appease her, then a few petals fell out of my mouth and the coughing finally subsided, leaving me dizzy on my bed, “See? I’m good.”

“I think you should go see the doctor.”

I shook my head, “I’m okay.”

“It’s getting worse, you need to go in,” she insisted, “Come on, I’ll take you in.”

“Betty I’m fine.”

“Then there’s no harm in going in, just humour me okay?”

I sighed, “Fine, fine, we can go to the doctor and see that I’m still just fine.”

Part 3

107 notes · View notes

masonscig · 3 years ago

Text

antidote

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 2.4k

warnings | mention of rook’s death and breaking her wrist when she was a kid, so you know. a little angst. some suggestive language towards the end!

author’s note | so this is my late entry for day one of warm in wayhaven, cooking – as usual when i’m writing these two i can’t shut up for the life of me

•─────────────────•

He wakes up from his first nap in a week to the smell of chicken.

There’s only one person in the entire warehouse that could be cooking at 2 in the morning without burning the place down.

He trods barefoot down the dark hallway, his sweatpants hung low off his hips.

Putting on pants was a formality, really. But he had roommates that’d have aneurysms over anything less, so he’s usually at least half clothed when he ventures outside of his room.

The smell gets a lot stronger, mixes with other scents the closer he gets.

Her heartbeat’s stronger in his ears, though, so he keeps going, despite the way his nose is crinkled and his fists are clenched.

When he makes his way to the kitchen, he stops at the doorway, perching his hip against the frame.

She’s pulled a chair up to the stove, chin balanced on her knees that are up against her chest.

Her eyes are glued to the big silver pot that sits there, steam leaking out from the ventilation tiny holes in the lid.

Her hair’s tossed up in a messy bun, and from the glimmer of light from the overhead light above the stove, he can see that a few strands are plastered to the back of her neck and forehead.

She reaches out to twist the knob all the way to the left, then struggles to pick the pot up.

Despite him not announcing himself, he’s next to her in a flash, moving the pot to the other burner in a flash.

“Oh, hey,” she murmurs distractedly. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah.”

She nods, barely even giving him a second glance, grabbing the lid and placing it on the counter.

The steam threatens to curl higher and higher, but with a quick flip of a switch, the stove’s fan is pulling it into its vents.

There’s something definitely wrong with her – she’ll bake cupcakes for an elementary school bake sale at 2 a.m., but never soup. Who the fuck makes soup in the dead of night?

“I’m not an expert on human food by any means,” he starts, grimacing at the way the scent wafts towards him when she swirls the wooden spoon through the broth. “But why the hell are you making soup when it’s hot as fuck outside?”

She shrugs, dipping the spoon flat against the surface of the hot broth, filling it to the brim. “I was hungry.”

She brings it to her mouth, lips pursed, and blows on it, thin tendrils of steam floating towards him.

He’s still trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with her when she sips it, a small tired smile blooming across her features.

The soft breathy hum that buzzes from her throat is low enough for both of them to hear, nearly matching the pitch of the whirring fan.

He doesn’t wanna press his luck with her, considering they're being civil.

It’d been a week since they were ambushed and she came face to face with her attempted kidnapper.

Things between Mason and Sofía were already… complicated, to say the least.

Different attitudes, different wants, different needs. He’d managed to fail in all three of those categories, disappointing her over and over without really trying to.

There was a certain level of avoidance from the both of them for the days following the ambushing. It’s not that he wanted to get her alone nor he did he care if she was avoiding him, but this was the first time he’d been alone with her all week, so he wasn’t going to actively try to fuck this up.

“That’s it?” he asked, keeping it simple.

She ignores him, instead flitting around the kitchen to grab a bowl and a spoon.

Well, she’d be amicable if she kept quiet – she wasn’t wrong with that one.

He watches as she fishes out sliced vegetables, an ear of corn, and chicken, then fills the bowl to the brim with broth.

Setting it on the table, she grabs a stained tortilla warmer from the microwave and scoots up to her bowl, digging in with one hand, a tortilla rolled in the other.

She’s still sweating under the heat, her chest glistening, the seams of her tattered tank damp underneath her armpits.

He sinks into the chair across from her, arms crossed.

“You gonna keep ignoring me?”

“Maybe,” she says from behind her hand (and around a mouthful of veggies).

“Tell me to leave, then, and I’ll go. Just say the word, sweetheart.”

He knows she won’t.

She lifts her eyes from the bowl to meet his own lazy gaze. Without saying another word, she dunks her rolled tortilla in the broth and takes a bite.

“That’s what I thought. You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“You’re not that invested in my life outside of work, are you?” She challenges, mashing the back of her spoon against a vegetable until it’s smooth, scooping it up with a little broth and popping it into her mouth.

He shrugs. “I just know you’re lying, that’s all.”

“You lie all the time,” she counters immediately, pointing the tip of the spoon at him.

“When?” He knows she’s right, but she hasn’t brought it up since she stormed away from him outside of the warehouse, drenched and shivering.

“You lied at the bakery.”

Bingo.

He leans forward till his elbows are on the table, resting his chin on the back of his interlaced fingers.

“So that’s what you’re upset about.”

He’s a foot away from her, the temptation of closing the gap between them nearly tugging his shoulders forward.

Her face contorts into a grimace, bordering on disgust. “That’s not at the forefront of my mind, no.”

She swirls her spoon around the bowl, eyes following the movements of her wrist.

“I hate the summer. I always have.”

He stifles a wince as he leans back until his bare back presses against the cool plastic.

“Bad things always happen to me in the summer, you know? Dad died during the summer. Mom forgot to pick me up at science camp for a full twenty-four hours when I was 9, and I had to spend a whole day alone with no friends after everyone had gone home. That’s also the same summer she took her first month-long assignment.

“The next summer, they extended it from a month to a full summer. I broke my wrist on my neighbor’s trampoline, and she didn’t even visit me until my cast was getting sawed off.

“Bobby dumped me for the first time during the summer before he studied abroad so he could sleep with whoever he wanted.”

She shakes her head, dropping the spoon and tortilla.

“Sorry, I, uh, I’m just happier in the fall and winter,” she smiles apologetically.

“And that’s why you’re makin’ soup at 2 a.m.?” He asks, eyeing her warily.

“Yeah, kinda. It sounds stupid when you put it like that, really,” she giggles, scooting the bowl forward so she can rest her elbows there too, her chin in her hands.

A sigh escapes her, low and grim. “This dish is really special to me.”

He waits for her to continue, but she just sinks her teeth into her bottom lip instead, chewing nervously at the skin there.

He kicks his toe against her slipper clad foot, a gentle nudge to get her to speak.

He’s gotten pretty good at reassuring her without words, he thinks. Better than when they first met, that’s for damn sure.

“My favorite picture of my dad and I is one where I’m sitting at my high chair and I barely have two teeth in my mouth and my dad is feeding me mashed zucchini and yucca root. He’s laughing and smiling like he wouldn’t rather be doing anything else in the entire world than eating soup with his daughter.”

Mason stiffens at the mention of her father, and even worse so, feels remorse start to trickle into his bones.

It’s stupid to think he could’ve done anything. He pushes those thoughts to the side, recognizing the remaining scrappy morsels of humanity in him clawing its way to the surface. Impulse has always been the most human part of him – maybe she’s changing that.

He doesn’t really know who he was before this, but what he does know is any inkling of humanity he has surfaces when he’s with her.

Yeah, he can’t feel what it’s like to lose a parent, but watching Sofía tear up over bittersweet memories was enough on its own.

“Your dad cooked?”

“Yeah, from what I can remember, yeah. All of our old cookbooks are in his and my abuela’s handwriting.”

She looks like she wanted to say something more, so he leans back, arms across his chest, waiting.

“When I was in high school, I tried making it on my own and it was so shitty. I wanted to surprise Rebecca, because I knew she was getting back from a stressful work trip, and I couldn’t do it like he did. She didn’t even notice that I’d tried,” she sighs, picking up her spoon again to sip the broth.

She hums again, chews, swallows.

“I don’t know why I was so naive back then, you know? I thought I could chop a couple veggies and toss them into seasoned water and it’d turn out just like Dad made it.

“In reality, I didn’t even know what it tasted like. My mom described the taste to me once before, but she never cooked, so I just went off of what she told me. I romanticized the whole thing right down to making up the flavor in my own head.”

“That’s probably why I made the soup tonight. I miss when I was happy, but even then, what the fuck did that even look like to me? I’m just telling myself I was happy because I saw photos of me being happy, but I can’t recall that feeling by memory at all.”

She darts a hand under her eyes to rub it away before he notices, but he can see her eyes glistening.

“How am I homesick for a life that was never really great to begin with, you know?”

He leans forward, brows furrowed. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember. Fuck those old memories. Make new ones.”

He’s speaking from the heart now, compelled to say something before his mind can stop him.

Chuckling with a quick sniffle, she gets up to grab a drink from the fridge. “I know you mean well, but it’s hard when you’ve got an active bounty on your head.”

“Things will get better.” He’s not a beacon of positivity in the slightest, but she’s too good to be feeling this bad, so he has to say something.

“Things can get better.”

“What?”

“It’s not guaranteed. Not for me, at least. Probability’s never worked out in my favor,” she smiles weakly, unscrewing the cap to the water and sipping it politely.

“You’ve got a team making sure things will get better, sweetheart. No matter what.”

“You’re all here by force, though. After you leave, I’m still gonna be stuck here, and –”

She waves her free hand, the other one gripping the damp water bottle.

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I’ll be less of a mess in the morning.”

“Not all of us,” he says, delayed, but hoping she gets it.

“Not all of us what?”

“Are here by force.”

She grips the bottle harder, the plastic crackling. She knows what he means now.

“That’s… uh, good to know,” she murmurs, a smile tugging at her features. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t do anything to warrant a thanks.”

She rolls her eyes, sitting back down at the table. “You’re gonna have to get used to my manners, Mason.”

“Never,” he smirks, leaning over the table, over the soup, running his thumb over her bottom lip before standing.

“You don’t like it because you don’t have any.”

He snorts, a hearty laugh ripping out of his vocal cords and echoing off the tile flooring. “Damn right.”

She smiles, too, this time though with her whole body. It’s dim in the kitchen, but she’s shining nonetheless.

The smell’s grown on him a little bit. The shit honestly reeks, but he doesn’t mind it.

He follows her when she makes her way to the cabinets underneath the countertops, retrieving a big glass bowl.

When she bends down, he tentatively steps behind her, leaving a hair’s width space between them. He’s hesitating to touch her, even as she glances back at him reassuringly and closes the gap between his stomach and her back.

The hum that leaves her this time as he hooks a lazy arm around her waist sounds just like the one she let out when she tasted the soup.

She gently guides his hands to grip the edges of the bowl while she pulls the pot closer.

“So what’s this shit called?” He asks, crinkling his nose as she ladles it in, grimacing when some splashes his hand.

He knows he’s there for something, but he can’t quite remember what for when she licks the stray drops from his thumb.

“Caldo de pollo,” she smiles, snapping the plastic top until it’s airtight, guiding him to the fridge.

He knows “pollo” is Spanish from the times Felix watched kids shows to pick up on English. (He could never quite shake the looping sound byte of Felix’s southern drawl saying “poy-yo” when he discovered Dora the Explorer.)

“You gotta make it for Nate sometime,” he suggests, wrapping his other arm around her waist when she closes the fridge door.

She turns in his grasp, splaying her hands on his bare chest, dragging her thumbs over the tuft of hair in the middle of it.

“Thank you, really,” she whispers, eyes trained on her moving hands. “I mean it.”

He’s shit at accepting thanks with words, so instead he kisses her. He fights the urge to deepen it, to open his mouth to taste her.

She’s not ready to let him in like that just yet. He thinks it’s enough that she’s letting him touch her at least.

The lingering taste of chicken is disgusting, but he’s enduring it, because Sofía’s humming like he’s the best thing she’s tasted in years.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #twc detective #wayhavensummer #mason x sofía #detective sofía olmos #my fic

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sorcerersofnyc · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 3/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Chapter 3: Sam and Bucky try to understand your relationship with Zemo. It isn't complicated, but he remembers a time when things very much were.

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact)

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

A fresh breeze filters in through an open window, swaying the room as Helmut’s words take root.

“Partner?” Sam leans forward in curiosity. “You mean like a life partner or a partner in crime?”

“Yes,” is Helmut’s unhelpful reply. He sends you a conspiratorial smile, one you return with a roll of the eyes.

“Helmut and I are engaged in a… civil partnership,” you explain, “for legal reasons.”

“Amongst other things,” he adds.

“Yes, amongst…other things.” A deep honey-like scent wafts into the room from the kitchen as you share a fleeting glance, a private moment despite the scrutiny of James and Sam. You must have put on a pot of tea.

“That should have been in the reports,” James narrows his eyes and examines the room carefully. “Why doesn’t anyone know about you?” Despite his position on the other wall, he angles his body toward Sam, ready to defend against any traps you might spring.

"Well…" you tilt your head in contemplation, "there was a significant delay in the processing of our paperwork. Nothing was documented until after Helmut’s prosecution."

"How much of a delay are we talking about here?" Sam asks, turning his assessing gaze toward Helmut as if to ask, ‘did you do something?’

"Around—what was it, Helmut? A year and a half?"

"18 months," he agrees. “Our paperwork seemed to have gotten misplaced. It's so difficult to find reliable lawyers these days.”

Sam didn’t seem to believe him.

"I'm his spouse on all official records,” You cut in before either of the two to speak, “but I'm sure you understand why privacy is important to me.” When he testified to his crimes, he made it clear that he had no accomplices and the investigation proved the same. The lawyer ‘misplaced’ the paperwork long enough for public interest in his case to die.

You didn’t need that sort of public scrutiny.

Sam seems to agree.

“We would never compromise your safety,” He assures you. He has his own family, people he loves with targets on their backs. He thinks of them as he addresses you.

The teapot whistles in the background.

“Thank you.” You smile and excuse yourself from the room. “The tea is ready.”

Helmut wants to pull you back to him, but he settles on meeting your gaze as you make a hasty retreat through the archway.

You’re gone all but a few seconds before James begins to speak.

"OK Zemo,” He says, his voice low and threatening, “it's about time you tell us what's going on—your partner? Really?"

"I’ve no reason to lie, James—but perhaps you’re not used to honesty,"

“Not from you," James lurches forward like a beast seeking prey. He glares down at Helmut, a mere arm's length from Helmut’s chair.

Helmut doesn't doubt Jame's violent intent, but he isn't particularly afraid. He settles back in his chair, moves his hands along the length of the arms, and brushes a thumb across the cool metal of the gun strapped beneath.

"Simmer down, Buck.” Sam lifts his hands. “This is weird enough as it is.”

James hesitates but relaxes his defensive stance.

"She doesn't seem to like me and Sam," James continues, reclaiming his position on the wall. “I don’t plan on waking up with a knife in my back.”

“She would never do such a thing, it's far too messy." Unbothered by their altercation, Helmut rises from his chair. He moves toward the bay window and liberates a copy of Arsène Lupin, gentleman-cambrioleur , from the floating shelf.

Before James can say whatever it is he wants to say, Sam intervenes once again.

“What I think he means is, 'how do we know we can trust her?'”

"You won't come to harm under her care, you have my word."

His word.

James scoffs at the mere suggestion. Trust isn't something that exists between them and it never would.

But the air is so thick with tension and he can hear the unspoken words that linger in the air: ‘What about your late wife?’

So Helmut flips through the book absentmindedly, stopping at a dog-eared page.

“My companion,” he begins to explain, “she was my wife's dearest friend.” He glances up from the pages of the book to meet Sam’s gaze. “She lost her husband when your friends made Sokovia into a battleground so I found it prudent to ensure her wellbeing.”

They're quiet—finally—and Helmut finds their discomfort pleasing.

Turning his attention back to the book, he reads a line you underlined.

'Quel dommage que je ne sois pas un honnête homme!' What a pity that I am not an honest man!'

“Would you like some honeybush tea?” Your voice cuts through the silence a few moments later. You stop at the threshold and gaze back warily gaze wary.

“I expected Helmut to be alone, but I have other drinks too.”

“The Tea is fine, thank you.” He sets down your beloved book and walks across the room to meet you. Ever so gently, Helmut coaxes the tray from your hand and sets it down on the center table.

“I made lunch as well... si comes ese tipo de cosas .” You mutter, leaving the room once again.

Helmut pours himself a cup before gesturing toward the tray.

"Please, you are guests; have a seat, enjoy some tea." Grabbing the book with one hand, Helmut returns to his favorite chair.

James doesn’t move an inch but Sam takes the seat near the window. His body sinks into the fabric with a sigh.

“Hopefully Torres finds Donya soon. I don’t want to impose for too long.”

“She really is a lovely hostess.” Helmut takes a seat and returns the book. “I intend to enjoy her hospitality while I can.”

***

At first, living with you was easy; Helmut stayed out of your way, he spent his time conducting research and it was quiet.

But the walls were thin and noise echoed through the open vents—He could hear you crying late at night.

He wanted to help, but he had no temporary comforts to offer. The only thing he had was his anger and his plan. You’d rest easier with the Avengers buried in the ash heap, he told himself. That day, when you hugged him, he felt as though you encroached on something, something that would break if he failed to tread lightly.

When you looked as though you wanted to talk or share a fond memory, he mentioned something about the old-fashioned décor and suggested that you change something. He bought you books from the shops he passed on the streets, jars of pigment, and blocks of clay.

He observed you, found what you liked, and got them for you.

“Thank you,” you’d say with a smile, and that was more than enough for him.

He didn’t expect you to return the favor.

But then you’d do things like make him breakfast (always with black coffee and a side of bacon, his favorite.) You’d buy pillows in the same specific shade of burgundy to accent the walls. You’d leave the paper on the kitchen island and kept a jar of honey with the tea.

And he hated you for that, for doing the things Heike would do, for sharing her habits, humor, and sensibilities.

‘Good morning, Helmut,' you would say in the morning, 'Would you like to visit the market with me?’ or, ‘Helmut, you can’t survive off coffee, aren't you hungry?’

He’d refuse you every time.

It was difficult, disappointing you, but the thought of enjoying a pleasant breakfast, or taking a stroll through the market hurt even more.

He could still feel their bodies buried beneath his feet.

So he opted for uncomfortable silence, and unsteady peace, the ghosts of your loved ones a wall between you.

Weeks went by and he continued his research. It took a while, but Helmut could see the steps of a plan unfolding in his mind.

He wouldn’t be the one to send the Avengers to their graves, he’d make them kill each other—and for that, he would need the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes.

So one day, after reading and rereading the S.H.I.E.L.D. files he managed to decrypt, he told you he was going on a trip.

“There’s business that I need to attend to.”

“You’re leaving?” You looked up from the clay you were molding. It hadn’t yet taken form, just a sad lump of grey. “For how long?”

“Not long.” He promised, “I’ll be back soon.”

But he returned two weeks later.

Exhausted, Helmut had just taken off his shoes when you walked upstairs to meet him, red power on your hands.

“Helmut! Where were you?” You demanded before you took notice of your tone, the accusation present in your voice. You amended your words quickly. “I was worried... I missed you while you were gone.”

“My apologies,” was his unsatisfactory reply, his back still turned.

When he finally turned to look in your direction, you wore a troubled look upon your face, and the look reminded him of Heike.

It was the worry of a soldier's wife, of someone waiting by the door to greet an unknown future.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, genuinely this time, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

For a moment that you would reject him. He was certain you considered doing just that, but when you didn’t move or knock away his touch, a strange sense of relief filled him.

You sighed.

"When you've gotten settled, come down for dinner.” It was an order, he realized, not a request.

"Of course." An amused smile tugged at his cheeks.

"Where did you go?" You asked, lingering by the door as he set down his bag. He wasn’t dressed for business in his drab gray jacket and worn shoes.

“I visited an auction house out east."

“An auction house?” You tilted your head and assessed his clothing again. “To bid?”

“Not exactly."

Not at all, really.

He tracked down information about an auction where fanatics were gathered to bid on HYDRA paraphernalia. He hoped to find the book that once belonged to the Winter Soldier's handler, but it wasn't didn’t exist amongst the garbage he found there.

The trip hadn't been a complete waste, however. He managed to rid the world of a few dozen agents and others who would support their cause—but he wouldn’t tell you that.

"What I hoped to find wasn't there.” He settled on saying.

“It took you weeks to do that?”

“I needed to visit Berlin as well. My family collected many cars over the generations. I’ll take you to see them one day if you like.”

Helmut had no plans to get you involved in his plan to end the Avengers, he couldn't. But he remained true to his word and joined you for dinner that night.

He helped you set the table and you ate paprikash (which, he assumed, you made for his benefit more than your own.)

"Ozenik suggested I make it," you explained. "It was never my favorite but it was fun to make."

"You did a good job."

"Thanks...I thought was time to try something new."

He agreed.

You ate dinner together the next night too, and the next, and the next night after that.

Helmut grew to enjoy the time you spent together—it was a pleasant change of pace.

Even so, he had his ‘business’ to attend to. He would still have to leave.

Sometimes he would go for hours, sometimes he’d be gone for days, and sometimes entire weeks would go by and Helmut wouldn't call or even text you.

And you were frustrated.

Once he returned home to find you painting angry red lines across what might have been an abstract swirl of blue and gray.

One evening discovered you rearranged the dining room completely.

Then one day, during dinner, you attempted to bridge the gap between you once again.

"I received a message last night," You began, "a reminder that I purchased tickets to see a play last year.” It was summer, but the season had been unusually rainy, confining you inside for most of the week. “I’d have to travel to see it but it might be fun. Would you like to see it with me?”

"I'll be gone again soon," Helmut told you. “My apologies.”

You frowned.

"I haven't even told you the date. How do you know you’ll be busy?"

"I have plenty of work to keep me busy through the end of the year." His reply hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. He didn’t even bother to look up as he continued. "If you need to travel, I'll speak with Oeznik about arranging that for you."

You looked down at your plate, sighed, and set down your utensils.

"It's fine." You told him, but it wasn't. You were angry at his rejection, at his nonchalance.

"You know...you don't need to force yourself to be here with me, Helmut." You stared directly across the table at him, meeting his gaze. "We don't have to stay together if you don't want to. I have my benefits from the veterans association now so...if there's somewhere else you'd rather be-"

"There isn't." Helmut looked at you, his eyes dark piercing. "How could you think that?"

“How could I not when I never know if you're going off to the market or leaving for weeks?” A dangerous edge crept into your voice and you didn’t bother to amend it. “What sort of 'business' are you conducting? You won't even tell me."

"You don't need to worry," he tried to assure you, but his weak appeal only seemed to make you angrier.

And that anger, your anger, frustrated him to no end.

Who were you to question what he did with his time?

Heike always understood when he was gone for longer than expected. When he returned, she greeted him with joy and relief, not accusation and scorn.

But you...he didn't know what he expected from you.

You weren’t his wife, you weren’t involved romantically. You weren't even friends, not really.

So really, what tethered him to this place?

What he planned to do was dangerous; he might not even survive. He fulfilled his promise to see after your well-being, did everything he said he'd do, and yet...and yet…

You sighed, huffed really, and gathered your plates quickly.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying but I’m tired, Helmut,” you told him. “You go and move us to this...this ritzy tourist city and what am I supposed to do? Find friends with similar life experiences? I can’t even sleep through the night and you...you just...” You take a breath as you turn away, leaving with your half-eaten plate.

“I don't... I don't fit in here.” You confess resignation carried in your voice. “I don’t think you understand that and I don’t think we’re good for each other either. ” You decided. “We’re too different. I appreciate you trying to help me, I do, but… but maybe I should leave.”

***

Thanks for reading! You’ve come so far and soon you will be rewarded. Next chapter we’ll see the steps Helmut took to amend your relationship. And in the present timeline, we get to see something super cute (something that involves hand-holding, perhaps?)

Feedback is very much appreciated. Please tell me what you think!

Tag list:

@actuallyanita

@fillechatoyante

@viviace

@buckyandlokicanhaveme

Previous | Next

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #I know I'm the one who designed this story to be a slow burn #and yet #I'm really looking forward to sharing the next chapter

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achliegh · 4 years ago

Text

Golden

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 3:

Swim

What Hurts The Most

I Want Crazy

A month passed, Logan was alone. Finn hasn’t spoken to him since they left New Orleans, He texted an apology to Leo but it says it wasn’t even read, he has been avoiding certain people on the team because he knows they would interrogate him. The only thing that gave him any sort of relief from this crippling loneliness, he would watch the videos from the bonfire of Leo and Finn over and over and OVER! It had gotten to the point where that was the only way he could sleep.

He could only fall asleep to Finn’s laugh and Leo’s terrible yet sweet singing.

Adele had been paying attention to Logan, at first she would get annoyed and tell Logan to put on headphones or ask him to go to his room to watch them because he was falling asleep on the couch with his phone loudly playing the same.. Tiktok maybe? Adele didn’t know but she did get annoyed.

She stopped being annoyed when she found out what the videos actually were. One night she was downstairs watching her own show on the kids tv because her parents were catching up on the news upstairs. She didn’t want to turn the tv up too loud because the rest of the kids were asleep and she didn’t want to wake them. She could hear the music coming from Logan's room and she was not in the mood to listen to the same thing over and over again.

She walks over to his door and goes to knock but the door was open, she didn’t want to intrude but she was curious, so she poked her head in. She smiles a little, Logan is curled up on top of his covers, in sweats and a really big Saints t-shirt that she has never seen before. He was lying on his side, looking like he fell asleep while watching those videos again.

She walks over as quietly as she can to click the phone off and she sees the video. It’s one where Logan is being spun around while being held by a tall blonde guy. Logan was glowing. He was so happy. Adele continued to watch, Logan was set down by the man and he wrapped his arms around Logan's neck and bounced to the beat. It was really cute… but there was another video that she heard more often, now that she was here she might as well snoop. She swiped to the left and the familiar sound of that man's sloppy singing punctured her ears. There was someone else in this video… Finn.

Adele always noticed the tension around Logan and Finn, pretty much everyone did, but this just confirmed in her mind that they were, something together. Finn was sitting on the tailgate of a truck and the man from earlier was singing a song about loving country boys. Which made her cringe. But Finn hugged the man's face to his own and they were cheek to cheek as they looked at the camera and the man sang to it. Finn also looks happier than she has ever seen.

Adele Leaves the room with the videos playing, obviously Logan needs them. She went to bed that night putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Logan was known for pushing people away, would he do that to her if she asks about the man?

The next morning Logan came upstairs for breakfast in a different shirt but the same pants, she took mental note of that. Logan was always the last one at the kitchen table in the morning because he's a slow eater, so she waited until everyone else was gone to ask.

“What are those videos you always watch?” She starts innocent, watching all those crime shows has trained her for this. Logan froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. The milk drips back into the bowl. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow, snapping Logan out of his mini panic.

“They are just… friends.” Logan looks like he doesn't even believe himself and Adele stays quiet as if waiting for him to continue. “Just people I miss.”

“Why don’t you talk to them?” Logan sets the spoon in the bowl and signs running his hands through his sleep hair. He looks to make sure Celeste and Dumo don’t see him resting his elbows on the table, resting his face in his hands.

“It’s not that simple Adele. I messed up.”

“Did you say sorry?”

“To one, but they didn’t even read it…”

“The other?” Silence fell between them, she sipped her fruit juice as she waited for Logan to answer.

“They are avoiding me… I see them everyday but it feels like I’m a ghost.” He looks up to an unimpressed preteen and sighs, he shouldn’t be venting to her. It does give him the motivation to want to talk to Finn though. They sit in silence for a few moments longer, a small thanks and Adele going to wash their dishes as Logan goes to shower.

Finn wasn’t expecting a knock on the door, he was just cleaning the apartment with music out of the Bluetooth speaker. Luckily, the knock came when he had paused the music to change the song. Before starting the music again he opens the door, a fluttery feeling in his stomach makes him have a sour taste in his mouth.

Logan.

Logan just being beautiful, his eyes were that sweet pea green that melts Finn's heart, his hair was damp but soft from a shower. He looks up at him and he looks scared, and small. Not something Finn is used to. Instead of letting Logan in right away like he normally would, Finn leans against the door frame, arms crossing over his bare chest. Not saying anything.

Logan about lost his nerve to be here, Finn had that stupid black headband on keeping his hair out of his face. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his creamy skin scattered in freckles at Logan itched to touch. His shorts hung low on his hips and he tried not to stare. Keeping his eyes glued to the copper ones staring him down. He swallows his nerves.

“Can we talk?” His voice was small, slightly shaky, Finn knew he couldn’t resist. Moving to gesture into the apartment. Logan walks in, taking his shoes off and leaving them by the door. He stands around awkwardly while Finn sits on the couch. “Finn, I'm sorry! I-I don’t know why I said those things to-... to him.”

“You can’t even say his name Logan.” Finn spoke calmly but it wasn’t because he felt that way, it was because he was tired of this. Tired of fighting. “I would believe you if you could say his name and not have his look of guilt in your eyes that you couldn’t give him! Leo didn’t deserve that! Even if you didn’t want to be with him, you ruined it for BOTH of us! I would have liked to stay with him, I would have liked to have a relationship with him but I’m- I’m so stuck on you! I’m stuck on you so I can’t go against you, I can’t leave you behind because it will kill me!” He lost his calm and stood up walking into the kitchen to his phone. “I don’t even want to have this conversation because I know you don’t feel how I feel… and I don't blame you for not feeling what I do but can’t you let me go.” Logan followed him into the kitchen and stands there shocked at what Finn had said.

“Stuck on me… You don’t think I'm stuck on you? Finn! I am just as stuck on you! Why do you think I always come back to YOU!” ( Swim) Finn rolls his eyes and picks a song before walking off back towards the living room. Logan grabs him and traps him against the wall, a hand on either side of his torso, his forehead to his bare chest.

Cool hair against warm skin.

“Please just listen to me!” Logan looks Finn in the eyes as the green becomes clouded with tears that he refused to let fall, angry with himself he finally lets everything out. “I feel terrible, I texted Leo and got no reply. I've been giving you space, even when I wanted you, when I wanted to touch you, when I wanted you to hold me. I wanted… Leo too. I’ve been watching the videos from the bonfire to sleep, I’ve been sleeping in the shirt from Leo that I found in my bag… it smells like him. God I fucking miss you so much. You’re right in front of me but… Something keeps stopping me. It's like a barrier that I can't break through unless I’m with you. Why do you let me come back to you…”

Finn feels himself being pulled into Logan's gravity, cupping his cheek he feels Logan’s hands move to his waist and grip like if he lets go Finn will disappear.

“I love you! That's why…” Right before their lips touch a smile forms on the other.

“I love you too.” Their lips crash together, Logan pulls Finn’s body so close to his own that there is no space for Jesus. The kisses are passionate, Finn’s hands wind into Logan’s hairs gripping tightly not letting him pull away until they can’t breath. Finn bites Logan’s bottom lip, suddenly Finn’s anger comes flooding back, everything shitty Logan had ever said to him, and what he said to Leo repeated in his mind. Grabbing Logan's wrists he flips them on the wall, pinning Logan's hands beside his head, and shoving his thigh between Logan's and pressing into him, drawing a surprised whine from the shorter man who is flexing his hands.

Aggressively kissing, nipping and sucking on Logan's lips and neck made him an absolute mess, eventually Finn pulls away and shoves Logan toward his bedroom. Logan walks backwards still facing Finn as he takes off his shirt and drops his gym shorts. His legs hit the bed and he falls backwards onto the soft duvet. Finn reaches him for him and tugs his underwear off of Logan, reaching for the lube on the bedside table. He leans down and nips at Logan’s jaw.

“Hands and knees.” Logan moves quickly after Finn moves away to take his own shorts off but forgetting about his headband, putting some lube on his fingers Finn moves behind Logan and reaches down to begin to prep him, but feels him already stretched. Finn gives Logan a confused look for a second when he catches Logan looking back. A shy smirk forms on his face.

“Shower, I was hopeful.” Finn lets out a breath and uses the lube on his hand to slick himself up and slide into Logan in one solid thrust. Pushing Logan’s back so his chest was to the bed, moving his hand to his wildly curling hair and pushing Logan’s face into the bed as he starts thrusting into Logan, hard but shallow just barely grazing Logan’s sweet spot.

Logan was always quiet loud when they fucked but he got much louder when he was being manhandled and praised. Finn was whispering sweet praises that contradicted his aggressive thrusts.

Lo felt like he was going insane, he felt his insides start to coil as he was getting pounded into the mattress. Gripping the sheets he feels Finn shift and start drilling into his sweet spot and Logan can’t help but scream in pleasure, tears pricking his eyes, the hand gripping his hair tightens and pushes his face further into the mattress. Minutes later Logan breaks harder than he has for a long time, Finn following not long after.

Finn holds Logan close as he pulls out, laying on their sides he feels Logan squirming, pushing his ass back into Finn. He smiles and kisses the top of his head, running a soothing hand up and down his side as his other hand is on Logan’s pounding heart. Logan’s hands gripping his.

“Closer.” His voice is raspy and small but Finn doesn’t hesitate to completely wrap his arms around Logan and hold him tightly, helping his brain come back online. They Lay like that for a while, Finn was busy thinking about getting them cleaned up and maybe even asking a very important question. He barely caught Logan’s soft tired voice.

“I love you” Logan wiggles in Finn’s arms to face him and kisses his nose. Logan looked sweet with the red side of his face on full display and the dried tear streaks and puffy lips just made Finn’s heart skip a beat. Logan's smile suddenly fades away and he cups Finn’s neck. “Can we… be together like a couple?”

“I was going to ask you.” The smile that grows on his face makes his cheeks hurt. He starts peppering his BOYFRIENDS face in kisses and revealing in his sleepy laugh that is rarely heard.

He was on top of the world.

Leo’s back was resting against the large Weeping Willow that provides shade over the pond behind the barn. He’s been spending a lot of time here. It is one of the only places Leo can talk to his dad, because the tree is him. He always got this feeling that on the other side of the trunk sat Wyatt, listening to Leo’s problems and giving advice. Really it was just Leo but… he can hope right. Ever since the boys left he has come to sit out here and think about everything he did wrong to cause them to leave like that.

He rested his head back on the trunk as the music from his headphones made him feel worse, What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts was just not the happiest. It really hit too close to home, but that's how his life seems to be going right now. Clayton and Ashley had broken up after she got him arrested when SHE threw a lamp at his head. Clay now sports a scar from the center of his forehead across his left eye to the top of his cheek.

Speaking of the idiot, Clay sits down next to him and rests his head on Leo’s shoulder.

“How's the face? Still ugly?” Leo smiles a little when Clay smacks his stomach.

“Itchy, the stitches being taken out are nice but now I look like a pirate.” He sits up. “Have you found your phone yet?” Clay knows Leo’s phone is still on the floor of his truck but Leo claims he can’t find it because he doesn’t want to be reminded of the boys. Clayton was actually stealing Finn’s number from the phone so that he can give him a call and give him a piece of his mind.

“Nope! And I refuse to look for it… Why do I miss them so much? I knew them for a week and it's been months since they left! I feel pathetic.” Leo sighs annoyed and unplugged his earphones from his iPod and shoves them in his pocket. “I feel stupid, they are in my head all the time and I don’t even know their middle names, or favorite colors, or favorite foods. I know nothing about them but I want to…” he pulls some grass out of the ground and is glaring down at his lap.

“Do you want to see them again? Like go to a game?” Clay has mentioned this a couple of times and Leo never gives a solid answer, but this time he did.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

A few weeks later they were stepping off the plane in Gryffindor, they had a couple of hours before the game and decided to take their bags to the air bnb. They only had back packs because they were staying for two days before going back home. Might as well make a whole trip out of this.

When they got there, there were a couple of boxes on the table as requested, anything can be done with money. Clayton got to opening the boxes, pulling out two jerseys, two pairs of sweatpants, two hats, two pairs of socks and two pairs of bright white new Adidas shoes. Leo’s clothes were bigger than Clays so it was easy to separate them. They brought their own plain sweatshirts, Leo’s is Black and Claytons is white.

They googled what people wear to hockey games and that's what they got.

Leo was getting nervous, he brushed his teeth twice after a shot of vodka, he started pacing until Clay made him stop and take a nap before they left. Once they were in the arena and found their spots behind the Lions goalie a couple rows up. Leo had his hat on forwards worried that someone would recognize him he had his glasses on as well. They were thin wired and square but he hoped it was enough.

He felt like superman.

The team came out for warm up and Leo couldn’t take his eyes off Logan, skating with a brutal beauty that took his breath away, practicing hitting the puck around. Leo knows no hockey terms so this will be interesting. Suddenly a blur skated next to Logan and skated around him as they talked. Finn, lean and gorgeous.

Leo was fucked.

“I need a drink.”

“Nope! No alcohol you have to process these feelings you dumbass.” Clayton was watching someone skate around with a look that Leo knows. He wanted someone.

“Who is it?” Looking down to the rink Leo tries to follow Claytons eyes and find out who he wants. “43?! You mean the jersey you got!” Leo can’t help but crack up at Clay's red cheeks, already feeling more relaxed now that he wasn’t the only one with his eyes on someone.

The game started and they were… lost. They couldn’t keep up with the puck and they didn’t understand the shift changes. The goalie was on FIRE though! He was so good, and Finn was so fucking fast. Logan scored two goals in the first half and Leo couldn’t help but stand with the crowd and cheer.

“You know, you could probably put a dildo on the ice and it would move the same as the disc, wait it's called a puck! The puck.” Leo smiles as Clay and a couple people around them laughed. A few other jokes were cracked before something stops the game.

A fight? They are allowed to fight!? Maybe Leo should watch hockey.

It was Logan in a fight, Leo watched completely entranced. Logan was pure anger and passion, he threw his gloves off and punched a man with long almost white hair. Leo took a drink of water to get the cotton out of his mouth. Logan gets punched back right in the face, but he jumps on the man and hits him again before Finn and number 12 pull him off. Logan's eyes were bright with adrenaline, but Leo only knew that… because Logan spotted him, when Logan blinked Leo sat back down hoping the crowd standing would hide him. His face was bright red and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

43 was on the ice so Clayton wasn’t paying attention to him, Leo didn’t know if he could handle getting made fun of right now. His heart was beating out of his chest.

He had to talk to them.

After the game, they won by the way, Clayton and Leo were walking out of the rink to the hall when someone grabbed their arms. Looking at the hands on their arms they looked at who they were attached to.

James Potter.

“Nope, this way.” He drags them towards the locker room doors. “Wait here.” He spoke in that way dads do that just to make you listen so Clay and Leo stayed there. The team that lost started walking by and someone grabbed Leo’s ass and spit a racist word at Clayton, confusing the hell out of both of them. Leo noticed the hair and the bandage on his nose and knew that was the guy Logan beat up. He was gone before they could retaliate.

“Okay, I get that you have a temper but if getting into a fight every game necessary! The bruise on your cheek just healed Logan!” Finn was complaining as he examined Logan's face by cupping his chin and moving his head around. The entire team felt the shift when Finn and Logan officially became an item but something was still missing. Especially when country music came on, they would pine and gush about Leo and it drove everyone crazy. Logan was just letting Finn look at him while his own face had the sappiest look on it.

James came back in the room and ushered everyone into the showers because he had a victory surprise. They hoped it wasn’t clowns this time after Kuny almost punched one. Everyone did as they were told and went to shower.

Once they got the signal, Clayton and Leo came into the locker room. Leo was forcefully sat down in a stall with the number 10 on it and Clayton was left to watch by the door. He was getting nervous.

Finn and Logan were hand in hand when they turned the corner twenty minutes later. Finn stopped in his tracks when he saw Leo, in a jersey with a black hoodie on under it, black sweats, red socks, black backwards hat, and not cowboy boots. Logan runs into his back and sighs, looking around Finn to see what stopped him. He drops Finn’s hand and starts walking towards Leo.

“Leo?!” The blonde stands and Logan launches himself into his arms and Leo catches him with no problem. He pulls away a little and cups his face. “Is this real? Are you real?” He pats Leo’s face a bunch and makes Leo laugh.

“Yes, I’m real.” He smiles and sets Logan down, turning towards Finn who still hasn’t moved. He nervously opens his arms to Finn and that gets him to move. Finn walks forward into Leo’s arms and wraps his arms around his waist tightly. Leo hugs him just as tight, pulling away a little and catching Finn’s lips with his own. It was sweet and relaxed.

Once they pull away Logan grabs his face and gives him a kiss as well that was fiery and needy, very Logan. They pull away and smile sickly sweet at each other, hearing a cheer around the locker room they notice everyone else has entered and is whooping for them.

“Nice jersey” Sirius pats Leo on the back and laughs.

That's when Finn and Logan realize Leo is wearing Sirius’ jersey.

“LEO! What the hell!”

“You expect me to choose! This one was the most popular so I got it.” He crosses his arms like a stubborn child and looks around for Clayton to see him trying to flirt with 43 but he's so oblivious that he doesn’t notice. He smiles and looks back at h-the boys. The boys, yeah. “Clay and I are going to wait outside for y’all. Okay?” He gives them each a short hot kiss and starts to walk away from Clay to the door.

Finn and Logan are still standing there in a daze after he leaves, then the fact that they can take him to Finn’s and do as they please! They share a look and then rush to get dressed as a few of the guys laugh at them.

“Huh, he doesn’t look as hick as I thought he would.” Dumo casually spoke as he pulled his sweats on.

“That was your Leo! No wonder you guys have been stuck on him! Fucking makes me question my own sexuality!” Kasey butted in.

Talker was suspiciously quiet.

They were suddenly at a bar. Clayton was chatting with a couple of girls and their boyfriends just being friendly, every once in a while he would send an annoyed glance to Logan. Who had glued himself to Leo, Finn wasn’t any better. Leo was in the middle of ordering a drink when the Bartender slipped her number under his drink and winked before tossing her hair and walking away.

“Are we not obvious enough?” Finn looks at Logan as Leo laughs while taking a drink. “Maybe we should make it reeeaaallly obvious that you’re taken. Hmm?” Finn slips his hand under Leo’s sweatshirt on his back and feels Logan’s hand there too. Glad they were on the same page.

Leo said goodbye to Clayton, promising that if anything went wrong that he would call. Clay made him promise to carry his phone around during this trip. Clayton gave one last dirty look to Logan and nodded Leo off. Leo skipped back over smiling wide. They get a taxi to Finn's. Leo is in the taxi first sitting normal, smiling at the taxi driver. Finn and Logan topple in, Finn’s head lands in Leo’s lap and Logan is on top of him and leans back to slam the door closed. Laughing a little Logan feels his stomach do a hot twist as he sees the other two making out, he bites his lip after telling the taxi driver the address.

He scoots up Finn’s body and leans to suck a bruise onto Leo’s neck, pulling a groan from the blonde, causing the other two to smirk. Leo pulls away from Finn, Logan swoops in and kisses Finn while Leo catches his breath. They pull up to the apartment and stumble into the elevator. Leo presses Logan into the wall and kisses him, shoving his tongue in his mouth. Logan grips his sweatshirt, feeling Finn press against Leo’s back sandwiching him between them. Finn starts to add a couple of love bites of his own to Leo.

The elevator opens and there is a woman in the door, Leo pulls away and laughs at the face she makes, the other two laugh as well, dragging Leo out towards the apartment door. Once inside they take a moment to arrange the furniture into how Leo wants. Aka turning the living room into a bed.

“Okay what's the plan for tonight!” Logan is sitting on the sofa, Finn and Leo are on the ground facing him. All butt-ass naked.

“I have an idea!” Leo smiles and gets on his knees between Logan's legs. “How about I suck you off and Finn fucks me?” The innocent smile that Leo flashes Logan should be illegal.

“As if I’m gonna say no to that.” Logan looks back at Finn over Leo and sees him mapping out all of Leo’s ink. Finn’s got a thing for ink. “Finn definitely won’t either.”

Finn preps Leo as he rests his head on Logan's thigh, until he's ready.

“Logan, Finn, there is kinda something I really really want you to do… Finn,” He turns around to look at him. “I want you to causally scratch me, bruise my hips with how hard you hold me… you know, be rough.” Turning back to Logan and wrapping his arms under his thighs, placing them over his shoulders, and gripping his hips. “I want you to push my head down, and don’t be afraid to pull my hair.” he winks at Lo and doesn’t even pause to take him fully down his throat.

“Fuck!” Logan grips his hair tightly and arches his back, toes curling as Leo begins to suck. Finn swallows and grips Leo’s hips as he slides in nice and easy. Logan see’s Leo’s eyebrows furrow and loosens his grip on his hair. Leo grabs his hand and puts it on the back of his head, adding pressure. Logan gets the idea and pushes him down, Leo’s moans around Logan as Finn starts to move at a steady pace. Leo keeps pleasuring Logan and moves one of his hands to grab Finn’s hip to pull him in harder.

Finn grips his hips harder and starts to go to town, pounding into Leo hard and deep, Logan was getting close to finishing and Finn could tell just by looking at him. His eyes were glassy, the grip on Leo’s hair was unforgiving, his face and chest were flushed red, every once in a while his eyes would roll back in his head and lose his voice. Moaning loud enough they will probably Finn will probably get another noise complaint from his neighbor who hates him.

Leo was feeling great, the pain was sending shocks of pleasure down his spine, the fact that Logan gets so close and then he stops sucking to bring him back from the edge. Finn has fingerprinted himself to Leo’s waist and Leo is so so close.

Suddenly Logan breaks, Leo smiles and swallows, having Logan ride out his orgasm. Leo keeps going. Finn hits Leo’s prostate dead on and both their orgasms take them by surprise. Finn pulls out and Leo pulls away wiping his mouth on his arm. After a clean up and a new blanket. They all lay together with stupid smiles on their face. Leo fell asleep being pressed between… the boys. Logan in front of him. Finn behind him. Absolutely covered in hickey's, so everyone knew Leo was taken.

The next morning was bright. Logan woke first, which was weird because Leo is almost always up before them. He’s not complaining. The sun is shining just perfectly from the large windows in the living room. The light was hitting Leo’s back making him glow. A large tattoo on his back caught Logan's attention. Logan climbed on Leo and sat on his back straddling him. He started tracing the lines. It was large, the only large one Logan could see right now. In the center of his back was a small shield with wings coming out of it, Logan had never seen that before, it was surrounded by flowers. Some he recognized, the marigolds he knew because his Maman told him they were spirit guides, he also recognized the honey suckle from when Leo took them out to the lake.

Leo was covered in tattoos like a sketchbook. Lots of weird quotes and little animals. There was a sloth in a teacup above his elbow. A couple of frogs with mushrooms around them on his biceps. The words “Cowgirls don’t cry” on his forearm. Logan climbed off Leo and glancing down at his body he noticed some interesting ones.

On his left upper booty cheek there was a micro tattoo of a croc… like the shoe, on his right upper booty cheek there was another croc… but the animal. Blinking a couple times he looks a little lower and notices a skeleton hand that looks like it five-starred Leo's ass and he can’t help but burst out laughing. Waking the other two up he was still laughing.

“What?” Leo blinks sleepily at him and drags him over by his waist to snuggle him. Finn yawns and stretches, sniffling sitting up.

“Why are we laughing? Is Leo funny or something?” Finn drapes himself over Leo’s side and smiles at Logan.

“He has the best tattoos. The skeleton hand is what got me.” Logan smiles and kisses Leo's forehead and then Finn’s. “What is the one on your back?” Leo hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s the airforce pilot wings for my dad and then a bunch of my mom's favorite flowers. Marigolds, which is the nickname she calls me, honeysuckle, bluebells, golden trumpet flowers and daffodils. It’s her favorite tattoo of mine besides my bologna one.” He smiles at them, and his stomach makes sure they know it exists by grumbling. “Alright, let's make some breakfast!” He stands up and grabs his sweatpants tugging them on and makes his way to the kitchen. “Wow, either you really like to clean or you don’t cook.”

“I don’t cook, I have no idea how too.” Finn and Logan follow him into the kitchen in their boxers.

“If you don’t cook then who buys all the ingredients?”

“My mom made me.” Leo narrows his eyes at the bag of flour before he realizes he doesn't have his glasses on. Annoyed, he goes and grabs them from the coffee table and begins making pancakes. He asks Finn to turn on some music and I Want Crazy by Hunter Hayes comes on. It’s a cringey song but fits them perfectly.

“Will you cook some bacon?” Logan is rummaging around in the fridge and just happens to find some turkey bacon, checking the date he sees it's still good.

“Nope!” Leo flips a pancake while humming and looks at the other two.

“Why not?” Finn pouts a little.

“Because I’m vegetarian and I don’t want to.”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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