#with another equally or possibly even worse take

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[autolenaphilia]

I’ve talked in a post years before about how male/female socialization is a myth, especially if you argue transfems are “male socialized.” But I’ve read and learned since then, so let’s have another go at it.

Of course what I must recognize is that claims that transfems are male socialized are not good faith arguments, it’s a transmisogynistic canard wielded as a cudgel against transfems. What it is is an accusation that transfems are lacking in the feminine virtues, it’s the old accusation that queer women are too mannish to be proper women. Most often “male socialization” is a claim that we are not demure and submissive enough. It’s a club that taken out whenever we dare disagree with our betters, tme people, or dare assert ourselves in any way. It’s then said that we are “talking over people”, “taking up too much space” or even have “male energy.” This is ubiquitous even in supposedly transfem-inclusive spaces. Even cis women are often falsely perceived as talking too much, due to misogynistic biases, and transmisogynistic biases make this effect even worse for transfems.

But let’s humor the argument for awhile, because I’ve seen transfems internalize the transmisogyny of “male socialization.” And socialization is a real sociological concept, which can be use to lend respectability to the claim that transfems are male socialized.

However actually looking at how socialization is defined reveals the problem with the “male socialization” myth.

Socialization as concept is not simply something that is done to the individual, but actually refers to how the individual internalizes the norms and ideology of the society in which they are raised, “the process beginning during childhood by which individuals acquire the values, habits, and attitudes of a society” as merriam-webster helpfully describes it.

This means the individual’s response to society’s norms defines socialization. It’s not just how people treat you, how you are raised, it’s how you react to how they treat you. And this is equally true if we are to speak of gendered socialization, where a person’s internal gender identity and preferred gender expression, not just their assigned sex by their environnment, defines that person’s gendered socialization.

And it’s obvious that any attempt to “male socialize” transfems failed. If “male socialization” has any meaning it must include that it results in the male individual adopting a male identity. And for transfems, the results speak for themselves. A transfem saying “I was not male socialized, because I’m a woman and not a man” is in itself a valid argument.

The fact that transfems prior to transition can for a long time believe themselves to be male doesn’t mean they were “male socialized” either. Because again, the individual’s own response, both in thought and behaviour to how others treat and teach them is part of socialization. It’s not just the end result that is different from cis men, it’s how we get there too. That’s why some transfems speak of “transfem socialization” because even when we are treated like boys, we have different responses to that than boys and men do, and that is it’s own form of socialization.

The thing is, transfems tend to experience their assigned sex and the masculinity socially expected by them long before their trans realization, as deeply unpleasant. It’s gender dysphoria, but we are not given the words to articulate those feelings. We don’t know that gender dysphoria exists, that transition are an option, or even that trans people exist, except possibly as deluded and perverted men in dresses. So these feelings are instead repressed. This results in dissociation from emotions that are distressing and difficult to understand.

It can often be difficult for us to act according to the norms of masculinity and we are often abused by parents, schools and other children for our femininity.

Now of course there are many boys and men, who are effeminate and gender non-conforming, and are often uncomfortable with the masculinity they are expected to perform. But that just further proves the point that to speak of a monolithic “male socialization” is wrong, because even boys and men vary widely in their responses.

And a central problem with neatly divided male/female socialization, is that while expectations are different depending on assigned sex, we aren’t given separate messages about gender. Basically all children in the same culture are taught the same things about masculinity and femininity, and the misogyny that comes with it. Children who are supposed to be boys are taught what girls are like, and supposed girls are taught what boys are like (and the message is, broadly speaking, girls are inferior to boys).

Trans girls can therefore often internalize the message about femininity, what girls are like, and apply it to themselves, even long before we view ourselves as women. Long before we realize we are trans, that transition is an option, we often feel a painful longing for womanhood, and femininity, tinged with unrecognized dysphoria. The unrealistic beauty standards imposed on women can be especially devastating for trans girls who have internalized transmisogyny. We hold our own bodies to standards that are cisnormative and which are so unrealistic that even cis women can rarely reach them, and it’s used as a tool of repression and self-harm, to tell ourselves why we never could be women. Eating disorders are common among trans women even before transition.

This description of pre-transition transfem lives probably seems surprising to people who never listened to transfems describe their own lives, and this includes other kinds of queer people.

The double standard of how transfems pre-transition lives are described and how basically every other queer group’s closeted lives are described is stark. Like it’s now widely recognized that cis gay people who were closeted and didn’t believe themselves to be gay were suffering in that closet from the self-denial that belief involved. Claims that cis gay people were “heterosexually socialized” and that they enjoyed heterosexual privilege by self-denying in the closet are never made because they are obviously absurd and offensive. But not so for trans women’s own experience of repression and the closet. This is of course rooted in transmisogyny. As Julia Serano pointed out, “AMAB trans people are denied the closet”

[sleepynoons]

jing yuan x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: somnophilia, dubcon (because consent is not explicitly given, but you and jing yuan are in an established relationship with implied unbreakable trust and loyalty), oral (receiving + giving), cum eating, slight size kink (jing yuan's dick is,,, girthy,,, i know it,,, he was in my bed last night), one mention of pain (giving)

notes: lmk if i missed anything in the warnings. jing yuan, i love you, i need you to be real RIGHT NOW.

IT'S VERY rare for you to come home later than jing yuan. after all, he’s the general of the xianzhou luofu, and when does he truly have a moment of respite? regardless, you return home much later than usual as there was an emergency at work that required your whole team to pull overtime.

haphazardly, you peel off your work clothes, leaving behind a trail of stockings, a coat and work robe that are sure to be crumpled the following morning, and finally, your undergarments. you hop into the shower for a quick cleanse but return equally as naked back to bed.

but late nights have always been cruel to you. no matter how tired and stressed out you are, if you’re still awake at ungodly hours of the morning, it will take you hours more to fall asleep. usually, you’d pass the time by counting sheep (to no avail), playing around on your phone, or even resume working, but because jing yuan has decided to crash at your place tonight, you can’t entertain yourself without risking waking your fiancé.

you smile at the thought. the whole engagement was truly an affair, you recall. you and jing yuan have known each other for your whole lives, but there was always a distance and awkwardness between the two of you. even into adulthood, the two of you were never close. however, at the behest of your own parents’ request, jing yuan and you began to meet on arranged dates to see if a relationship was possible.

it’s not like you were against marrying jing yuan. you weren’t in a relationship of your own, and it was better than being wedded off to a stranger, or worse, someone from another xianzhou flagship and having to move from the luofu. besides, jing yuan didn’t seem to mind and didn’t have any engagements of his own, and the two of you began to form a comfortable acquaintance.

but the engagement itself came out of nowhere. after months of arranged dates and meetings, one time, jing yuan had brought the master diviner, fu xuan, herself. jing yuan wore a lackadaisical expression, but something about the way his arms were still by his side and his jaw was locked implied nervousness.

fu xuan intently stared at you before sighing and sitting down across from you.

“i sincerely do not mean to take up too much time,” she said. her tone had a sarcastic edge to it, though it’s not directed at you. you peered up at jing yuan, who’s looking at you expectantly, and you nodded to let the diviner proceed. 

“i am here for the luofu’s sake. as a diviner, i have the ability to seek answers and foretell the unfoldings of a destiny requested.

“however, there is no need to divine such a fate as obvious as yours and the general’s. i am here to humbly request that the two of you get engaged immediately.”

you chuckle as you remember fu xuan’s words.

shocked, you managed to say, “s-sorry, what?”

fu xuan crossed her arms and legs, and stared at you, transparently unimpressed. “the luofu’s general is madly in love with you. how you have not noticed after all of these years, i am not sure, but it is, over time, becoming a noticeable nuisance to those on the luofu.”

you were still too confused. “what? a nuisance? in what regard?”

“as i said, everyone but you seems to be aware of the general’s affections for you. a bet on the general’s wedding date has gone too far, and we need to put a rest to this incessant noise and distraction. general jing yuan loves you, and i think it is time i step in and nudge you in the right direction as well.”

you scoffed because the word “nudge” was an extreme understatement. fu xuan was not being subtle at all (and something in you wondered if she was partaking in the bet and just wanted to win).

jing yuan cleared his throat. fu xuan harrumphed and took her leave. the general sat beside you and put a hand gently on your arm.

calmly, he reassured, “the master diviner is quite strong-willed, and while she means well, do only take her words with a grain of salt. after all, this is our relationship.”

instead, you asked, “is what she said true? that you have affections for me?” jing yuan simply smiled, but you noticed a melancholic glint in his eyes.

after a few moments, he still did not say anything. you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

“well,” you breathe, “we should find a time to go ring shopping, no?”

you must’ve done a poor job concealing your giggles because jing yuan’s hand begins to pat around the bed looking for you. you swiftly take his palm in your palm, and bring it up to your lips to press a kiss on his knuckles.

“what is amusing my fiancée so much?” he grumbles, voice heavy with sleep.

you hum, “i was just thinking about our engagement.”

“mm, there is still much left to do.”

you admire his side profile and trace with your eyes the waves and curls of your fiancé’s thick silver hair. because it’s loose and untied, it’s sprawled all over your pillow, and if you turn your head slightly, you’re sure the tips of it will tickle your nose. you follow the silver down to his bare chest, and – suddenly, an idea hits you, one that is sure to help you fall asleep.

in the moments that you spent observing and memorizing your lover, he had fallen back asleep. you feel slightly guilty for what you’re about to do, but when has jing yuan ever directed any anger towards you?

you pull off the covers, and jing yuan doesn’t flinch or shift. after all, he’s always run a bit warm. the harder part was settling between his legs, but there was no way to make room without forcing them apart, so instead, you do your best to settle your knees on the sides of his rib cage and lean forward, ass facing his head. this position is slightly more promiscuous and forward than what you’re used to, but then again, you’ve been without sleep for almost a whole day now and you know you can’t think straight for a moment longer. besides, the possibility of him waking up and seeing you like this sends a pleasurable tingle down your spine.

you begin to mouth and drool over his briefs. he’s warmer down here, and the smell of fresh laundry and jing yuan’s natural scent further drives your ministrations. after a few more seconds, you feel his cock stirring underneath the swipes of your tongue, and you finally begin to peel down his underwear to free him.

even though he’s only half-hard, he’s large. you lick your lips and gulp, moreso to prepare yourself. giving head to jing yuan has always been tiresome, with his size and all, and that’s exactly what you need.

one hand gently fondles his balls, the other clutches onto the bedsheets in search of balance. your mouth is busy suckling at the head of your lover’s cock, and you have to remind yourself constantly to not release any lewd moans.

finally, when jing yuan’s dick is hard enough, you begin to bob your head and take him in more deeply. you’re beginning to ache at your core, too, but you’re more occupied with the thought of making your fiancé cum in his sleep than pleasuring yourself.

with every bob, you suck in more. the head of his dick prods past your tonsils and at the back of your throat. sometimes, when he’s in too deep, you have to gag and tighten your throat, but that only seems to feel even better. at one point, you have to pause, and as you regain your breath, you admire how his cock is pulsating and turning rouge and purple with need. you’re impressed, truly, with how still and silent jing yuan’s been, but you’re relieved that you’ve not been caught in such a compromising position.

no more time to waste. taking one last deep breath, you dive back in, going faster, ignoring the throbbing in your extended jaw. you’ve added one hand, to make up for the length that you can’t stuff into your mouth, and you feel confident that you can make him cum soon. the sound of your slurping, gagging, gasps fill the room, booming in the face of silence. you’re beginning to lose your mind and are no longer careful enough to prevent yourself from letting out low moans and whimpers. you feel slick gliding down your inner thighs as well, and you swipe a bit of it with your palm to aid in your working of your lover’s cock.

from the corner of your eyes, you see jing yuan’s thighs start to twitch, a sight that almost makes you purr with satisfaction. the throbbing and heat of his cock is also becoming uncontrollable, and you know he’s close. you keep going, eyes closed in concentration, and urge yourself to go impossibly faster. as you take in his length, you also work your tongue more aggressively, licking at the veins that wind around his shaft, and lap at his tip and slit when you pull up. finally, you move the hand that was clutching onto the bedsheets to his thighs and sink your nails into the muscle and fat of his legs. the unexpected combination of pleasure and pain sends him over, and you seal your lips around his cock to drink all of his cum. your eyes roll back as you taste the cream, gooey, smooth, and slightly salty, sliding down your throat. 

but the moment doesn’t last long as fatigue begins to take over. you lick at some of the remnants of jing yuan’s climax that have escaped before sliding his underwear back on properly and tucking yourself around his side, sliding the covers back over the two of you.

-

you wake up panting, body writhing and desperately trying to pull away from whatever’s tormenting you. but you can’t, because your legs are tightly wrapped in place, and you have to blink rapidly to clear your vision and look down at your feet. you make eye contact with your lover, his arms tightly holding your thighs in place on his shoulders. he’s busy lapping at your clit, slick and spit drooling down your folds and dripping down onto the bedsheets.

he hums, happy that you’re conscious now, but the sound only serves to vibrate through your sensitive bud, leaving you a moaning, whimpering mess. your fiancé refuses to relent until you finally call out his name.

“jing yuan!” you exclaim, hands flying to his silver mane and tugging sharply at his scalp.

he stops and lifts his head up and – the audacity – winks at you.

oh. you feel heat rushing up to your face, and you let out a string of expletives. if your hands weren’t so occupied and tangled in your partner’s hair, you’re sure they would’ve flown up to cover up your burning face. you must be making an embarrassing expression, too.

“you knew! the whole damn time!”

jing yuan chuckles before dipping back down, swiping his tongue from your hole to your clit. then, he finally speaks, “i’m simply repaying quality service. you did take care of me so thoroughly earlier this morning.”

you can only throw back your head and moan. the combination of jing yuan’s expert working of your body and his praise makes you delirious, and you know that your lover is intent on paying you back ten-fold, if not more. after all, jing yuan has always had an overflowing amount of love for you, so generous and intentional with his care and affection, that you know he’d never let you leave the bed if he could. 

maybe today’s the day, you think, before all thoughts are swept away as your fiancé takes you with increasingly more rapture and fervor.

[yanderes-galore]

Some concept for yandere Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), please?

Sure! I ended up combining these two requests because how I end up writing Alastor is meant to be... unpredictable? He's a dubious pairing for me so you can argue most of his actions are already "platonic" as he wouldn't show any sign of real "attraction" anyways due to how he is. Hope you enjoy this regardless :)

Yandere! Alastor Concept

Pairing: Dubious (Leans Platonic?)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Sadism, Blood, Murder, Isolation, Soul deals, Stalking, Forced companionship/pairing.

Ah, Alastor, the radio demon.

The thing about Alastor is not many know his true intentions.

It's hard to tell what he wants and that's what makes him an unnerving character.

He acts amiable, charming, good-natured, playful...

But he's a sinner like no other.

He's an Overlord who has killed other Overlords and made deals with many.

He's probably one of the more intimidating characters not only in the show... but to have as a yandere too.

He doesn't see many as his equal.

He's sadistic, a fan of violence, and has an ego.

Alastor tends to hide true emotions and is only around to entertain himself.

The most interesting and scary part of his yandere is how unpredictable he is.

It's unknown why he's attached himself to you.

For one reason or another you've managed to catch his eye.

I would say for better or for worse...

But we all know it's for worse, right?

Alastor wouldn't tell you why he likes you, you can't pick up on it either.

He's just overly friendly with you.

In some way you could consider the radio demon your "friend".

He's capable of friendship, hopefully, considering how he is with Nifty, Rosie, and Mimzy.

Having Alastor on your side, no matter his intentions, is probably better than having him against you.

The demon is oddly attentive to you when he's attached.

You intrigue him and speaking to you is entertaining.

You're entertaining.

In fact, most of the time it just seems like he's around to entertain himself.

Or it looks like he wants something.

Alastor never seems to leave your side, always right behind you, laughing along to a conversation he was never a part of.

He just seems to insert himself into your life, never taking his red eyes off you.

You most likely first met as a member of the hotel.

You work to help Charlie, a task he finds amusing.

Alastor's darling just seems to be treated like a toy at times.

Although, as it progresses, he slowly begins to "care" more.

It's hard to tell what's genuine and what isn't.

Alastor has an intimidating aura around all demons.

Even you feel uneasy when he appears around you, always being charming as he strolls over.

It's like he's always playing a game.

You can never seem to find privacy without the radio demon appearing.

You could be speaking with Charlie, or anyone else really...

Then all of a sudden the radio demon wants to join in on the chatter.

A reason for his friendly and attentive behavior could simply just be because he wants a deal with you.

However... There's also times he just seems... protective?

It's more like he's possessive... Yet they're so similar.

Alastor may rarely let his true feelings slip, but there's times he sheds a bit of light on how he feels.

For example, Alastor loves to listen in on your conversations, as said before.

If Alastor heard someone speak of you negatively or threaten you... You notice his aura change.

It's that or if someone gets too close in general... be it flirtation or even just friendship.

Charlie hugging you or Angel playfully flirting with you for example...

It all seems to irritate Alastor to no end.

Maybe even to the point of the radio demon stepping in, clearing his throat as he tries to keep his temper in check.

Alastor is always watching, always listening.

You may not be his... but he observes you like you are.

He treats you like you are.

The only thing not making you his is a deal.

Which he'll find a way to get eventually.

Perhaps a reason Alastor likes you is because he likes control?

Maybe the radio demon gets a power trip when he chooses who can interact.

While intimidating and downright passive aggressive with others...

Alastor is surprisingly great with you.

He's friendly, always smiling, chatting you up whenever he has the chance.

He acts like a friend... Even if you're unsure if you can call him that.

Alastor may even notice your distrust, always thinking of ways to break down that wall between you.

While he isn't a fan of true emotions, he likes to see yours for some reason.

You may not fully trust him, yet he watches your smiles, frowns, everything.

For some reason you're just so fun to watch.

Alastor likes to dance with you for bonding.

You two are buddies, aren't you?

In that case, join him for a number, will you?

Hell, Alastor seems like the type to playfully tease his obsession.

He'll compliment you, be playful... Just to see your reactions.

He's playing with you.

Alastor is manipulative, often doing anything he can to get you guard down.

He's good at putting on a show, dancing with you and acting all nice.

Although, no matter how much he tries to convince you...

He still isolates you from conversations he dislikes, he watches your every move, he seems to be aggressive to those around you.

It's more like he's territorial than protective.

Alastor can get messy when it comes to his obsession.

We've seen in the show that he can turn many lesser demons into paste.

He's also killed Overlords.

So him being obsessed with you is unnerving, even dangerous.

Mostly because... Why would someone as powerful as him want you under his control?

Sure, he considers you both friends, but what does that mean when it comes to him?

A demon like him only brings violence and trouble.

Even those who know the demon well are stumped as to why he wants you.

Alastor asking you for your soul is expected.

In fact, you may have been waiting for that.

Why else would he be this nice?

Alastor would no doubt pressure his obsession into a soul deal to make them his.

Nothing quite says 'mine' like a chain around your neck.

However, Alastor will try to be patient to play his cards right.

He wants you to believe him.

He tries to promise you care and protection if you make a deal.

He treats you well and is respectful to you.

Yet you can somewhat tell what exactly he wants.

His obsession over you would start as intrigue and a sadistic curiosity.

But who knows, maybe over time the Alastor grows attached to your company.

Alastor doesn't genuinely love or care for many people.

Never has.

However... Perhaps he feels that way with you.

He cares for you in his own way.

He cares for you enough to watch over you, to kill for you, to isolate you... to make you his.

The last thing he needs to do to secure his bond with you is a soul deal.

Something he plans to coerce or force out of you.

Maybe he'd threaten to harm someone you care about if you don't.

Or maybe he'll bribe you.

Eventually, like the 'good friend' he is, he'll get you to sign that contract and give him your soul.

After that? Well, you're completely his to do what he pleases with.

Oh, but he won't force you to do anything else you may not want, darling.

No, this was all just a way to secure you to him.

He's now your companion to the end, isn't he?

He'll hold you, comfort you, treat you better than any other demon here can.

Why would he?

Well, you're his now.

Now no one else can touch what's his.

Which allows the demon to isolate you.

He won't let others speak to you for too long, always lurking around to watch you.

If they do, he'll call you away from them.

Why would you speak to anyone else?

Why would you need anyone else?

Isn't he the best friend you could ever have?

The best companion? The only one you need?

If you don't think so... Maybe he needs to correct how you think?

You don't want that, do you?

Alastor, no matter how much he calls you his friend and companion, is condescending.

He makes it seem like he owns you.

Sure, maybe he does care for you, yet he still isolates you.

He still keeps you all to himself.

There's no point in fighting him... why would you even need to?

He really is all you need... the perfect charming companion... you'll get used to being his, you have to.

[pillow-anime-talk]

injured s/o.

synopsis: You were a bit clumsy, but luckily your partner knew first aid. But they had to be careful because both of you know... they were a ghoul.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; light romance; a bit of drama; also slight fluff; human!reader; mention of blood and wounds; maybe suggestive

includes: gender neutral reader ft. shuu tsukiyama, ken kaneki, touka kirishima, rize kamishiro, ayato kirishima & nishiki nishio {tokyo ghoul}

— SHUU

↘ He instantly smells your delicious blood and almost cries at the sight of the knife covered in red liquid and the onions that were supposed to be part of your disgusting human dinner.

↘ He’s trying hard not to eat your tender, sweet flesh, but after a short breath, he finds a first aid kit and then scolds you from top to bottom. His touch is tender, even though you are well aware that Shuu is holding back all his senses from killing and eating you. He’s a simple man, a bloodthirsty ghoul, so don’t be shocked. Of course he won’t hurt you, but... you never know.

↘ After applying the bandage, he’ll probably lick his fingers to taste your blood, and he feels as if he’s reached the highest level of ecstasy. 

↘ Your blood tastes like the sweetest chocolate, the ripest peach, the best wine, like coffee from the most expensive beans. He almost faints at the thought of you being filled with this dark ruby and delicious ambrosia.

↘ “... Thank you for your help, Shuu-kun.” You smile slightly, touching his arm with your hand. The man just nods, kissing your forehead, then disappears from your view as he enters the bathroom to take a cool shower and calm his farious thoughts.

— KEN

↘ Black Reaper doesn’t show affection to others, unless we are talking about his beloved partner. Then it’s completely different, still dangerous and uncertain, but with you, Kaneki takes off the mask of a dark, vulgar and cruel ghoul.

↘ “May I come in?” He asks softly as your small apartment starts to smell of your sweet like honey blood. Ken tightens his fingers on the doorknob and then enters the room as soon as you let him. One drop of blood escapes from your index finger. You cut yourself with a piece of paper while writing an essay. You look uncertainly at the black-haired man, but you don’t see any negative lust in his eyes. On the contrary, Ken looks worried. “Everything’s all right, love?”

↘ You reply that it’s just a scratch and that you’re fine. Your boyfriend offers you a bandage though, and you smile at him, lightly pressing his body against yours.

↘ “Thank you.” You reply quietly, and he only wonders why. That he didn’t kill you? That he didn’t tear your body in half? That you’re still alive? “... Thank you for being there for me.” His eyes close and he snuggles tighter against your weak, human body.

— TOUKA

↘ Touka is calm and the first thing she will think of is hydrogen peroxide and bandage. She’s not interested in your body, though of course your blood smells like a field of orchids and poppies. This fragrance evokes sentimental memories in her mind.

↘ She examines your wound with the greatest tenderness, and then, equally calmly and without haste, cleans it of any dirt and puts on a professional lint. Her gaze expresses many emotions, none of which are related to her ghoul nature.

↘ “Better now, Y/N?” Dark-haired girl asks calmly, while her hand squeezing yours. You nod your head a bit in response to her brief question and she smiles softly. “Would you like some coffee?” She asks another question, and you nod once more, thanking her for help.

↘ Tonight was full of tenderness and assurances that Touka would never hurt you.

— RIZE

↘ He behaves similarly to Tsukiyama, maybe even worse. The sight of your blood is like a lighter to spilled gasoline. She can’t control herself and runs away as far as possible so as not to hurt you. After all, you are her beloved lover, her little treasure. She can’t afford such a disgusting moment of frailty.

↘ You bandage yourself and expect her return, even though you know it may take several days.

↘ Rize is disgustingly weak when it comes to you; after all you are her greatest drug and probably if she only tasted a drop of your blood or was in the same room with you for a bit longer, she would definitely throw herself at you.

↘ The relationship with her is quite dangerous, but you feel happy with her. Maybe it’s stupid and life threatening, but you really can’t imagine your own life without this beautiful and graceful woman.

— AYATO

↘ He snorts with laughter when your apartment starts to smell like blood. When he enters the bathroom, he sees that you’ve cut yourself shaving and a few drops of blood run down your still wet skin.

↘ “If a razor beats you that much, then seriously consider my proposal to turn you into a ghoul, kitten.” The sarcasm in his voice is strong and you just roll your eyes. You quickly wash the wounds with a cotton swab and water, then find the plaster.

↘ “You know very well that I am the biggest enjoyer of fried rice with vegetables and lasagna. There is no way I will give up these human goods to eat human flesh.” You grimaced at the thought, which made the black-haired man laugh lightly one more time. “You should help me instead of laughing, dumb boy.”

↘ “Hmm... Nope, nah.” He waved at you and then went back to watching TV, calmly waiting for you to come over and lie down next to him.

— NISHIKI

↘ He cares a lot about you; you are the most important person in his life, so the sight of your tear-stained face and chafes on your knees from falling down the stairs is a hard sight for him.

↘ So he takes you into his arms and leads you to the bedroom, where he treats your wounds with the greatest precision with disinfectant spray and bruise ointment. He talks to you a lot during this moment, almost forgetting that he is a ghoul. For sure, a few years ago he would have jumped on you without much thought, just to end your suffering.

↘ Afterwards, he smiles slightly and offers to order you something good to eat to make you feel better. You’ll agree, although you’re asking for a moment of tenderness and a few kisses. 

↘ You’re definitely too cute.

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Four)

Summary: You and Tommy suddenly find yourselves in a small predicament as the impending hour of your engagement ball draws near. Only to be made worse when you make an unexpected bold move in your war of words. As alliances begin to form between the gangster and an unlikely guest later that evening. Yours and Tommy's feelings also begin to show when he makes a move that will leave you as equally breathless. But with someone watching from afar, another problem comes your way. One that could leave everything in jeopardy.

Warnings: Language, angst, domestic violence, use of one racial slur, very brief 18+ themes.

Word Count: 5692

Authors Note: The waltz played at the engagement ball is called "Second Waltz" by Dmitri Shostakovich. Which was also used in my trailer for this series.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" you asked with gritted teeth, hovering over the workman with half his body buried deep under the intricate rail work of pipes as you silently prayed for a better outcome than what the current situation held.

" Busted main pipe, Miss" Mr Potts grunted as he hoisted himself up from under the dusty floors of your aging home.

Well, bollocks, you thought to yourself as you wiped the layer of sweat that had accumulated on the back of your neck. The sweltering heat that had descended over the country, having no mercy on you and every other citizen that was accustomed to summers your southern neighbors would consider dreary and wet.

" Is it possible you could fix it...by tonight?" you questioned in hopes things could be swiftly sorted before your engagement ball set to take place that evening. The soirée you had no choice but to put a brave face on for. But not a sweaty, frazzled-haired one if you had any control over your bathing habits.

" Mr Potts?" you queried once again when a hearty crescendo of laughter left the plumbers jiggling girth at your lack of knowledge for manual labor, and the hours it would take to fix such a problem.

" Tonight? Are you 'aving a laugh?" he snorted as you crossed your arms, the deepening creases of your brow furrowing with every chuckle that left his raspy lungs.

" It's not that funny..." you mumbled as he continued to echo his amusement. Could probably fix it myself, given the chance, your strong willingness pushed through your pouting lips when Tommy came striding down the hallway.

"Y/N" he greeted you with a soft smile, dressed in only a vest and suit trousers, his suspenders hanging loosely from his hips. It would almost be unusual to see him fully dressed in your presence at this point, you thought to yourself as you watched him wipe the sticking heat from under his chin down to his toned collarbone. Hot. So...so, terribly hot...

"Mr Shelby" you greeted him back with flushed cheeks, pulling yourself away from your steamy thoughts as he stood arm to arm with you. His darting eyes unable to divert from the beads of perspiration that had settled on your rising chest, dripping down to the curves of your...fuck

" Pipes about to burst " you said, catching his wandering eye as you subtly shimmied the frills of your dress over your steamy display.

" Right" he replied as he cleared his throat, finding a degree of innuendo in your passing statement he felt would be best kept to himself than shared with the room and it's causing effect. You.

As you both watched the plumber plod about, a silence momentarily settled between you both, free from the bickering, cocky remarks and slamming of doors.

Something had unexpectedly changed since Tommy turned up in both support and respect to your father's funeral. The sudden shift away from butting heads, replaced by the echoing spark of yearning from your first encounter. But for how long, until you faced yet another bump in your precariously winding road to admitting your sentiments towards the other?

"Me and my boys will be 'round first thing tomorrow" the workman announced as he settled his cap on his head, breaking the tension between you both.

" But...but how are we supposed to wash?"you hurried after his heavy footsteps, left inconveniently in the lurch.

" Servants' quarters aren't connected to the main buildings' plumbing" he replied, turning around as his pout belly bounced into yours, the sudden impact causing you to fly back two feet. " Their bath is hooked up to the pipes for the horses stables. That ain't gonna be a problem is it now, Miss? he asked with his hands on his hips as his eyes honed in on your bumbling lips.

" I...I didn't build this house, Mr Potts" you said with darting eyes and reddened cheeks, feeling like you were suddenly the one to be blamed for the houses' layout, and the divide it created between classes.

" I can assure you, had I been the one to oversee the architecture..." you rambled off into an incoherent speech on how you was for workers rights as the plumbers' brow began to scrunch at your nattering to a comment he made in jest.

" No, it's not a problem. Absolutely, definitely not, a problem" you answered, catching your breath with a weary smile as your embarrassment for not being able to reply to a simple question without going into a rant caught up with you.

" Splendid" he replied, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders as he turned around. A chuckle leaving his lips for the high society lady he had left in a dizzy.

Spinning on your heel, you came face to face with your smoking squatter, casually leaning against the wall as a small grin of amusement he had no intention of hiding, lurked behind the fumes of tobacco as you slowly padded towards him, awaiting the dose of humiliation you were sure was on the tip of his tongue.

" One bath" he said stood in front of you as his eyes darted back and forth to the servants' quarters.

" Hmm" you hummed as you watched him brush the droplets of heat from his brow. Both of you in dire need to cool down. But with only one bath, the race to it's location was now tethering on the starting line as you both waited for the other to make the first move.

"Excuse me" you said before taking off down the very hallway he'd been eyeing up, attempting to get a head start on your mutually shared agenda.

" Stifling isn't it?" You said, flapping the top of your dress in attempt to get a draft down to your sweating crevices as he quickly appeared beside you, matching your quickened pace as you both exchanged pleasantries to hide the determination you had to get to the only bath with running water.

" Suffocating" he replied as you jogged breathlessly next to his long strides, distracted enough for him to take a quick peek at the beautiful sight of your bouncing bosom.

" You dropped something, love" Tommy warned you as he glanced down at your feet, causing you to momentarily stop in your tracks.

Dropped something, your eyes narrowed in on him briskly walking away with a throaty chuckle. Dropped your guard for him mischievously fooling you more like!

" You cheat!" you pouted as you summoned the will of your inner child, racing after his steps like a charging young boy, red-faced and sweaty about to tackle down his biggest rival, when you came to a stumbling stop into his body, quickly wrapping your slippery hand around his on the brass handle of the door as you both fought for dominance.

" Ladies first" he relented to the gentlemanly way of doing things, gesturing for you to go as you blew a lock of hair from in front of your eyes,

" No, you go" you replied coyly, intending to play a back and forth game of politeness until your graciously gave. Ignoring the fact you had launched yourself into him seconds earlier, ready to fight him to the death on who gets first dibs.

"Well, if you insist" he opened the door with a smirk, swiftly shutting it behind him.

"But..but..." He left you muted and mumbling as you stood with crossed arms, your eyes darting in disbelief to and from the room he had just entered.

What a... you scoffed to yourself unable to find the appropriate insult as you heard him turn the water on, obnoxiously whistling to himself in the process.

And to think you thought the unspoken ceasefire between you was a treaty you had both signed.

What was he doing, practicing his butterfly stroke? you thought to yourself as your eyes honed in on the bathroom door. One hour. One full hour he'd been in there bathing himself as if he was a Greek goddess in the seas of Pathos.

" Right" you stormed up from the chair placed directly outside the door you had been waiting in front of for the hour of your life you'd never get back.

"Mr Shelby?" you politely knocked for the first time since his arrival, only to have a response of silence.

"Mr Shelby!?" Your patience lasted all but two seconds as your fist began to pound on the door before you dramatically swung it open. It's not like you hadn't already seen the lengthy manhood the gods had bestowed upon him, you reasoned to yourself as you charged through to see him with his head lulled back against the ceramic bath, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

" Get out. It's my turn" you huffed with your back against the sink as you watched him with annoyance, peacefully submerged in the cloudy water filled with Epsom salts.

" Oh, It's you. I would've never guessed" he opened one eye with a smirk to see you getting furiously irritated by the locks of hair sticking to your face.

" It's been an hour. Now leave" you said as you turned to the sink, fiddling with the cold tap to relive yourself from the heat radiating from your skin.

"It's been ten minutes" he said, lifting his cigarette to his lips as his eyes roamed over your dress adhered to your skin with sweat.

"You've used all the water! I can't...I can't believe you!" you snapped, turning the silver faucet to the very end for only a pitiful drop of water to settle in your palm.

" You can use mine when I get out" he said, causing your eyes to widen as big as his cocky grin. He may very well have been accustomed to sharing mucky bath water when he was a child in a bid for his mother to save on pennies, but you had never done anything of the sort. Let alone with a grown man you had only known for a matter of weeks. "Or there's a pond at the bottom of the garden"

" Pond?!"

" Too posh for ponds as well, ey princess?" a sly smirk settled on his ridiculously plump lips as he waited, watching you in the corners of his blue irises with amusement.

"Leave" you demanded, succumbing to the realisation that you had no choice but to bathe in his leftovers than share a pond with any potential slithering beings that lived in it.

" Five more minutes" he said closing his eyes, blowing a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. Had he become so accustomed to your daily bickering, that he was in fact doing this on purpose just so he would have an excuse to interact with you? Yes.

Whatever possessed you to do what you did next, when you propped your foot on the edge of the toilet seat and unclasped your garter straps, shimmying the stockings from your legs along with them. Would plague you for the rest of the evening if not, your entire life.

" Out" you approached the side of the bath, throwing your most intimate of undergarments on top of his bundled up clothes on a nearby chair.

" I think I'd rather stay, darling" he said watching you pull your dress from over your head as his cigarette slowly submerged itself under the murky water. The sight of you now only in your under slip leaving him momentarily stunned.

"Fine" you said forcing a sarcastic smile through your slowly evaporating bravado.

There's no going back now, you thought to yourself, dipping your foot into the bath as Tommy bolted upright until his body was firmly against the back of the cool enclosure.

"Fuck, what are..." he was lost for words at your unexpected display of both competitiveness, and a boldness that would match any Small Heath lass he'd ever encountered.

" What does it look like I'm doing? I'm having a bath, Mr Shelby" you replied, following through with your endeavor without a blip as you poured a tinned jug of water over your locks, watching Tommy shift position as he rubbed the droplets of water sitting on the curls of his long lashes away with his hand. Was he seeing things? Dreaming, hallucinating?

" Do you ever relax?" he asked you after silently observing you laver the soap onto your chest and arms in the quickest manner you could possibly achieve to do it in. Watching the bubbles of perfumed lavender seep down to your ample cleavage as your entangled legs and little room to move, made matters worse for the growing predicament he now found himself in.

" Huh!" you scoffed at his remark that would be better attributed to himself as you went to reach for the bar of soap, when your slippery hands had it sinking to the bottom of the watery deep. Inconveniently close to his side of the bath. Dangerously close to his side.

Locking eyes, you cautiously dipped your hand under the water when you felt him grab hold of your wrist, saving you from discovering the effect you had on him, and grabbing something he'd prefer stayed attached to his body.

With a heaving chest your eyes met in a lustful gaze as you felt the gentle tightening of his hand around yours in the cool water. Beckoning your thoughts to join him in the unspoken line he wanted to cross. The line you had both been dancing precariously close to ever since you met.

Whether it was fear of what would come after, or the nerves you felt about being intimate with someone again after your first disastrous time. You abruptly stood up as Tommy's mouth fell agape at the sight before him. Your body sheathed in your slip, drenched in enough water to see through the thin fabric to reveal your bare body beneath. Knickerless. Fuck.

" Stay" Tommy's breathy voice churning with desire mumbled, swallowing the lump in his throat as his straining cock twitched at the sight of your bare body in front of him. His hands edging to wrap around your legs and pull you down on top of him to relive you both of the tension you had let build through weeks of bickering.

" I won't" you left, leaving him with the angry echo of your voice and the puddles of your parting footsteps. Anger you felt only for yourself, and the yearning you had to indulge in your forbidden desires. Knowing it would only further confuse your mounting feelings for him, and the emotional web it would create if your future dealt you the wrong hand.

" Fucking hell..." Tommy threw his head back, slowly engulfing himself until he was fully submerged under the water. You'd be the death of him.

What the hell was you thinking, you pushed your damp hair away from your face as you walked down the heavy wooded stairs into the foyer. The sight of an unknown woman in the dining room capturing your attention enough for you to momentarily forget your impromptu bath with the blue-eyed trespasser.

" Ghastly, isn't it?" you said with crossed arms coming to stand beside her as she pulled the cigarette from between her ruby painted lips, lowering her sunglasses enough from the large portrait of Tommy to look at you.

" So you're the one" she said with a pursed smile, her hazel eyes igniting with a shared mischievousness for infuriating your mutual acquaintance.

" And you must be?" you queried as she stubbed out her cigarette on the frame of Tommy's imposing painting.

" Polly Gray. Aunt Polly to some" she said, reaching her immaculately painted talons out in a polite handshake before returning her eyes to the large framed picture.

" Whatever do you think possessed him to commission such a monstrosity?" your nose scrunched up at the beady-eyed horse and it's owner looming over you.

"Grand home, grand aspirations" she waved her hand in front of her at the strokes of paint, and it's ill fitting placement. A dining room. His mug watching everyone eat their breakfast. How delightful.

" Grand ego, more like" you said when a puff of smoke to your left came into view as you carried on your torment, knowing the very owner of the painting both you and his Aunt were ruthlessly insulting was standing right beside you.

" Well, he certainly has enough of that" she replied with a smirk, as Tommy furrowed his brow at you both simultaneously ganging up on him, having only met moments ago.

He liked his portrait, he thought to himself as he stiffened his posture, admiring the work that had been done when a burst of giggles came from next of him.

" You two finished?" he said as you both pulled your eyes away from the brooding painting of himself to the grumpy human version.

" Oh, Mr Shelby. I didn't see you there" you said with your hand to your chest, his shaking head not joining you and his Aunts shared amusement.

" Tommy. Y/N and I were just getting to know each other. Or rather, your interesting painting" she said, turning to pick up the folder of documents her nephews' distracted thoughts had forgotten to sign, when Tommy ceased the opportunity to enclose the small space between you as his Aunt bundled her belongings together.

" You left these with my clothes" his hot breath whispered into your ear with a curling smile, prickling the skin of your neck in a gentle wave of pleasure as he reached into his back pocket to pull out your laced underwear.

" Give them" you said quietly through gritted teeth, as you both tugged on the delicate item of clothing until they ripped and Tommy let go with a breathy chuckle.

" What's with you all of a sudden, eh?" Tommy quietly mumbled to you, gently elbowing you in the side to get your attention, you reciprocated back twice as hard just as Polly turned to see the tense display between you both.

Don't think she hadn't noticed, nor the fact both of you had hair still damp with water. Just what had you two been up to?

" It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gray" you bid his Aunt goodbye with the bundled knickers scrunched in your hand behind your back as Tommy's thumb gently brushed over the fleshy part of your wrist.

Why were you suddenly playing so hard to get? You had got in the bath with him for Christ' sake, he thought to himself as his eyes followed you out the room. Were you playing games? his thoughts further nagged him with the idea of you toying with him. He'd seen you looking at him. Seen you stealing glances when you thought he wasn't watching. How long were you going to keep pretending you didn't want it as much as him?

" Until next time" she said with a curious smile, intrigued to know more about you and what had her nephew away from the office so frequently after mouthing to anyone forced to listen, how much you got under his skin.

" Now that's a rare sight worth painting" her drawn lips closed into a tight smile as the door closed and her head turned to see the pining eyes of her nephew, held in captivation for the woman that had just left the room.

" Be careful Thomas, anyone might just think you're in love" she arched her brow with a matching smirk before making her way to his office. Leaving a huffing Tommy with a disgruntled thrown as he shoved his hands into the depths of his trouser pockets.

Shit.

" Don't think I haven't noticed, Mr Shelby" your Grannie lifted her chin, her eyes looking at the gangster from head to toe stood beside her.

"I've seen that look" her lips pouted with a knowing smile, catching him staring at you from across the ballroom later that evening, as your fiance loomed over you. A look she herself had shared with a man not so different to Tommy.

" And what look would that be, Dowager? Tommy said through the toying smirk on the corner of his mouth as he took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, before taking a seat on the gold plush settee next to her.

" A look as old as time" she said, lifting the glass of bubbles to her lips as Tommy's eyes creased into a mischievous smile.

" Your secret is safe with me, Mr Shelby" Grannie's eyes met the spark of youth in his as she returned to keeping a watchful eye on you. Her loathing for the gangster having taken a sudden blow after witnessing his attentiveness to you at her son's funeral in the absence of your betrothed.

"Brute!" her eyes filled with anger as she watched Cal grab hold of your arm, pulling you into the darkness of the corner of the room.

" I can have him find his way into the cut, if you'd like" Tommy scoffed cocking a brow, passing your Grannie the small pocket square of white cotton from the front of his tailored tux, to usher the tears for your bleak circumstances away.

"Behave" she let a small giggle slip, patting his leg as her new budding companion for the evening sent her a boyish grin as she dabbed her eyes through her laughter.

" I'm afraid my dear girl will have even dire choices if Mr Astor happens to go missing. Her last remaining option looking ever the more bleak with each passing day" she sighed as her head cast down in exhaustion to her fingers clutched tightly around the champagne glass resting in her lap.

"Arrow House" Tommy let a breathy exhale out. Your Grannie only confirming his suspicions as to what had you clinging on for dear life to the house that would be better torn down than the many repairs needed to fix the state your father had left it in.

" For what it's worth, Mr Shelby. Your arrival may have thrown a spanner into my granddaughter's secret scheming, but it also brought a spring in her step for the life she once lived to it's full. Something I haven't had the joy of witnessing for many years" she confided in him, resting her aged hand creased with the wrinkles of wisdom she had earned on his arm. "And for that, I'm forever grateful to you"

" You're hurting me" you flinched at Cal's hand clasped tightly around your wrist, his eyes darkening into a bottomless glare of blackness.

" I will have you answer me, Y/N" he demanded, pulling you further into his body, hiding your guests from the controlling nature of your relationship.

" Why was he there, hm? Did you invite him?" his eyes blazed at you with fury. Breaths away from insulting you for his own insecurities having learnt of Tommy's appearance at your father's funeral from your brother.

" Are you whoring yourself out to him?" His paranoia spat through gritted teeth, his tightening hold numbing the extremities of your throbbing hand as your eyes welled with fear." Answer me!"

" Y/N?" Tommy's concerned voice drifted to you with his enclosing footsteps.

" Mr Shelby" you turned away from him, wiping the tears from your eyes with your bruising hand.

" Once again, Shelby. You seek out my fiance" Cal seethed though a throaty laugh, stretching the strain from his fingers that were moments away from snapping your wrist.

" It seems he is quite fond of you, dear" he scoffed with amusement as Tommy handed you a glass of gin, his look of disgust for the man beside him and the state of upset he had left you in further angering him when your limp hand had no strength to hold the small glass of liquor you quietly mumbled your gratitude for.

" A backstreet gypsy boy trying to win himself a woman of society. Whoever gave you the idea you could achieve such a thing?"

" This backstreet gypsy has never been one to turn down a challenge, Mr Astor. Especially not something as pretty as your wife to be" Tommy raised his brow, letting his mouth fall open with a challenging smirk, knowing the bastard in front of him wouldn't have a leg to stand on if he tried his luck with the cutthroat gangster, notorious for killing anyone who dared to come up against him.

" Fellas" your brother came between the two men in an attempt to calm the tension before a bloody shootout ensued.

"Dicky, Harold, meet Mr Shelby. My baby sister's houseguest" he turned to the men beside him as Tommy and your fiance continued to lock horns with a glaring, shared stance.

" Oh yes, the criminal" they tallest sniggered as the other took a chuckling bite of fish eggs on the wafer thin piece of bread in his hand.

" Harold Sterling. We share a business acquaintance" Tommy's head snapped to the giggling duo as he pointed his finger.

" I doubt that" he scoffed as his wife appeared beside him, curious as to who the smartly dressed gentleman was.

" Mr J.R Hughes from Hampstead, London" Tommy reminded him, lighting a cigarette, blowing the first drag of tobacco in his smug face.

" He mentioned you'd be attending this evening's ball. Said for me to send his regards to your wife, Kitty." His eyes narrowed in as Mr Sterling's widened with embarrassment.

" Your secretary, you've been sleeping with her again, haven't you? You dirty pig" his wife quietly snarled at him, as he tried to usher her away from causing a scene in front of the many dignitaries and fellow business partners present.

" Oh I'm sorry, I mean Gladys" Tommy named his second mistress through his cigarette loosely sitting between his lips before he could escape his dues.

" You bastard, you rotten bastard!" She snapped, swatting him across the arm as he cowered away.

" Dicky, how's your old man? Hear he got locked up?" Tommy turned to his next victim, picking them off one by one as you looked down at your drink, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to stop the smile of amusement you had for Tommy's brutal onslaught of the insufferable gang of merry men your brother spent time with.

" You have the wrong man, Mr Shelby. You don't know my father" he spat, turning to leave.

" The whole of Birmingham north of Aston knows him. The butcher of Bordesley Green"

" Your father's a butcher?" Johnathan's brow furrowed as his friend's lips wobbled without an answer.

" If butchering people is a profession" Tommy raised his brow. Ruthlessly unveiling the man's secret, his family had done their upmost to keep hidden from high society. But not from the backstreets of Birmingham his father's midnight killings had landed him in a life long stint at his majesty's pleasure until the noose called his name.

" Good lord, man!" Johnathan looked to his friend in horror, taking a step back from him and the small caviar knife on the porcelain plate in his hand, he feared he would use to gauge his organs out having learnt of his father's murderous hobby, as Tommy watched your finances eyes dart back and forth to him, waiting for the gang leader to reveal his own dirty secrets.

" Gentleman" Tommy left with a wicked smile of satisfaction. Leaving Cal momentarily with the comfort that his own legacy was safely secure. Safe for now, that is.

Watching you from afar at the side of the ballroom later that evening, Tommy continued to quietly endure your brother's nattering of unwarranted business ideas. Only entertaining his nonsense so he could peacefully steal glances at the woman who truly held his interest.

" Compelling, Johnathan" Tommy absently noted, pulling his eyes away from you as he took the last sip from his emptying glass of whisky.

" Another, old chap?" Your brother pointed to his glass, eager to continue his ridiculous business proposition he hoped would earn him big money.

" Yeh" Tommy cleared his throat, passing him his empty tumbler, thankful to be rid of him as he made his way to the lonely seat next to you.

" Mr Shelby" you looked up at him, away from the dancing guests as he settled himself beside you. " I want to thank you, for earlier" your tired eyes looked to him, hoping he understood the depth of your gratitude for intervening.

" Y/N..." he sighed, taking your battered wrist into his comforting touch, brushing his thumb gently over your bruising skin deepened once again with the marks of control your fiance had over you.

" Please, please don't say it. Just let me forget, if only for a moment" you interrupted him, resting your fingers gingerly over his hand as Tommy let out a stifled huff of frustration.

"So, what's this one?" Tommy changed the subject, turning his head to the swaying of ball dresses being guided in step around the ballroom.

" The waltz" you answered, thankful he'd not insisted on the matter you knew looked painfully frustrating to any bystander.

" And why aren't you dancing it, ey?" he turned back to you with a playful grin, keen to see you be spun around if to only have you smile for just one moment like he had witnessed at the ballet.

" I'm untouchable, I'm afraid" you said, raising your left hand and the diamond sitting on your finger. " Only male family members and Cal are seen as suitable dance members" you scoffed, looking down at the weighty piece of jewellery in your hand, only ever letting it grace your skin for events such as tonight's.

" You lot" Tommy chuckled leaning back in his seat, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the rules and expectations of the world you lived in. Small Heath didn't seem so bad after all.

" They show no mercy when they start gossiping" you looked back to the full room of unknown people who were only connected to you by wealth and status.

" Then let them talk" Tommy grabbed your hand, pulling you up and away to the patio doors as Grannie watched from afar with a hiccuping smile in her seat of observation as Tommy shot her a wink.

Naughty boy, she giggled to herself as the years of her own youth and the excitement it brought hurtled back to her.

" Wouldn't happen to have your hawk eyes on Mr Shelby, would you Grannie?" Your brother appeared beside her with two glasses of whisky, as he scanned the room for Tommy.

" Johnathan, must you lurk! Go make yourself busy, child" your Grannie jumped with fright, taking one of the glasses of liquor from his hand, then swatting him away with the other as Johnathan wandered off with a pout.

"Mr Shelby, what...what are you doing?" you breathlessly gasped, having been pulled from your seat to the outside patio quicker than you had time to react to.

" What does it look like, Y/N? I'm dancing " Tommy arched a brow as he pulled his wrapped hand around your waist further into his body.

" Don't be ridiculous, you can't dance" you rolled your eyes, trying to distance yourself from his strong frame, and the blushing effect it had on you.

" I'm a quick learner, love" he smirked as he straightened his back, grasping your hand in his.

As the booming drums rumbled from within the ballroom, Tommy began to lead you into a waltz with your guidance, or what he would best describe, bossy instructions he suspiciously didn't seem in need of, having picked up the steps of the dance astonishingly quickly for a novice.

Quick learner, your skeptical eyes looked up at the cocky grin trying to push past the bottom lip he was biting down on when the interlude of pounding drums had Tommy stomping his feet in unison.

" Stop it!" You huffed, swatting his arm at his playful mocking, when the thunderous sound of the strings recommenced and Tommy suddenly spun you around in his hold, freeing you both from the small patch of concrete he had kept you in as he guided you with long strides across your impromptu dance floor like he had danced it a thousand times.

" Tommy!" His name slipped past your squealing lips when he unexpectedly lifted you up to the starry night of stringed twinkling lights as your dress bloomed around you. The sound of his name and your beaming smile sending his thumping heart racing when he brought you back down into his arms, while your flushed cheeks and darting eyes revealed the embarrassment you felt for losing yourself in the moment.

" Mr Shel..."

"Y/N, shut up" Tommy quietened the use of formalities you had continued to insist on when he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, holding you tightly in his strong hold.

Breathlessly pulling back, your glistening eyes shone through the nervousness settling in your chest as your hands reached to rest on his pounding heart as he wantonly looked down at you, when the urge became too strong and you mutually crashed your lips back together in a passionate hold filled with a longing you had both been desperate to fill. Lips plush against each other, tongues intertwined in a secret dance only you knew.

" Mr Shelby?" Your brother called for the man who was currently locked in a heavy embrace with his sister as he pushed the French doors open with his back, simultaneously sipping from his whisky tumbler.

"Oh, dear" he quietly muttered as the remaining amber liquid poured to the greying concrete floor from his limp hand as he turned to see the unexpected sight of you together, oblivious of his presence.

Now this was a problem. A problem for him and your impending nuptials he was hoping would get him out of the small pickle he found himself in.

Oh dear, oh dear...

NEXT PART

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

American education has all the downsides of standardization, none of the upsides

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

We moved to America in 2015, in time for my kid to start third grade. Now she's a year away from graduating high school (!) and I've had a front-row seat for the US K-12 system in a district rated as one of the best in the country. There were ups and downs, but high school has been a monster.

We're a decade and a half into the "common core" experiment in educational standardization. The majority of the country has now signed up to a standardized and rigid curriculum that treats overworked teachers as untrustworthy slackers who need to be disciplined by measuring their output through standard lessons and evaluations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core

This system is rigid enough, but it gets even worse at the secondary level, especially when combined with the Advanced Placement (AP) courses, which adds another layer of inflexible benchmarks to the highest-stakes, most anxiety-provoking classes in the system:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Placement

It is a system singularly lacking in grace. Ironically, this unforgiving system was sold as a way of correcting the injustice at the heart of the US public education system, which funds schools based on local taxation. That means that rich neighborhoods have better funded schools. Rather than equalizing public educational funding, the standardizers promised to ensure the quality of instruction at the worst-funded schools by measuring the educational outcomes with standard tools.

But the joke's on the middle-class families who backed standardized instruction over standardized funding. Their own kids need slack as much as anyone's, and a system that promises to put the nation's kids through the same benchmarks on the same timetable is bad for everyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/28/give-me-slack-2/

Undoing this is above my pay-grade. I've already got more causes to crusade on than I have time for. But there is a piece of tantalyzingly low-hanging fruit that is dangling right there, and even though I'm not gonna pick it, I can't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd write about it and hope I can lazyweb it into existence.

The thing is, there's a reason that standardization takes hold in so many domains. Agreeing on a common standard enables collaboration by many entities without any need for explicit agreements or coordination. The existence of the ANSI/SAE J563 standard automobile auxiliary power outlet (AKA "car cigarette lighter") didn't just allow many manufacturers to make replacement lighter plugs. The existence of a standardized receptacle delivering standardized voltage to standardized contacts let all kinds of gadgets be designed to fit in that socket.

Standards crystallize the space of all possible ways of solving a problem into a range of solutions. This inevitably has a downside, because the standardized range might not be optimal for all applications. Think of the EU's requirement for USB-C charger tips on all devices. There's a lot of reasons that manufacturers prefer different charger tips for different gadgets. Some of those reasons are bad (gouging you on replacement chargers), but some are good (unique form-factor, specific smart-charging needs). USB-C is a very flexible standard (indeed, it's so flexible that some people complain that it's not a standard at all!) but there are some applications where the optimal solution is outside its parameters.

And still, I think that the standardization on USB-C is a force for good. I have drawers full of gadgets that need proprietary charger tips, and other drawers full of chargers with proprietary tips, and damned if I can make half of them match up. We've continued our pandemic lockdown tradition of my wife cutting my hair in the back yard, and just tracking the three different charger tips for the three clippers she uses is an ongoing source of frustration. I'd happily trade slightly sub-optimal charging for just being able to plug any of those clippers into the same cable I charge my headphones, phone, tablet and laptop on.

The standardization of American education has produced all the downsides of standardization – a rigid, often suboptimal, one-size-fits-all system – without the benefits. With teachers across America teaching in lockstep, often from the same set texts (especially in the AP courses), there's a massive opportunity for a commons to go with the common core.

For example, the AP English and History classes my kid takes use standard texts that are often centuries old and hard to puzzle out. I watched my kid struggle with texts for learning about "persuasive rhetoric" like 17th century pamphlets that inspired anti-indigenous pogroms with fictional accounts of "Indian atrocities."

It's good for American schoolkids to learn about the use of these blood libels to excuse genocide, but these pamphlets are a slog. Even with glossaries in the textbooks, it's a slow, word-by-word matter to parse these out. I can't imagine anyone learning a single thing about how speech persuades people just by reading that text.

But there's nothing in the standardized curriculum that prevents teachers from adding more texts to the unit. We live in an unfortunate golden age for persuasive texts that inspire terrible deeds – for example, kids could also read core Pizzagate texts and connect the guy who shot up the pizza parlor to the racists who formed a 17th century lynchmob.

But teachers are incredibly time-constrained. For one thing, at least a third of the AP classroom time seems to be taken up with detailed instructions for writing stilted, stylized "essays" for the AP tests (these are terrible writing, but they're easy to grade in a standardized way).

That's where standardization could actually deliver some benefits. If just one teacher could produce some supplemental materials and accompanying curriculum, the existence of standards means that every other teacher could use it. What's more, any adaptations that teachers make to that unit to make them suited to their kids would also work for the other teachers in the USA. And because the instruction is so rigidly standardized, all of these materials could be keyed to metadata that precisely identified the units they belonged to.

The closest thing we have to this are "marketplaces" where teachers can sell each other their supplementary materials. As far as I can tell, the only people making real money from these marketplaces are the grifters who built them and convinced teachers to paywall the instructional materials that could otherwise form a commons.

Like I said, I've got a completely overfull plate, but if I found myself at loose ends, trying to find a project to devote the rest of my life to, I'd be pitching funders on building a national, open access portal to build an educational commons.

It may be a lot to expect teachers to master the intricacies of peer-based co-production tools like Git, but there's already a system like this that K-8 teachers across the country have mastered: Scratch. Scratch is a graphic programming environment for kids, and starting with 2019's Scratch 3.0, the primary way to access it is via an in-browser version that's hosted at scratch.mit.edu.

Scratch's online version is basically a kid- (and teacher-)friendly version of Github. Find a project you like, make a copy in your own workspace, and then mod it to suit your own needs. The system keeps track of the lineage of different projects and makes it easy for Scratch users to find, adapt, and share their own projects. The wild popularity of this system tells us that this model for a managed digital commons for an educational audience is eminently achievable.

So when students are being asked to study the rhythm of text by counting the numbers of words in the sentences of important speeches, they could supplement that very boring exercise by listening to and analyzing contemporary election speeches, or rap lyrics, or viral influencer videos. Different teachers could fork these units to swap in locally appropriate comparitors – and so could students!

Students could be given extra credit for identifying additional materials that slot into existing curricular projects – Tiktok videos, new chart-topping songs, passages from hot YA novels. These, too, could go into the commons.

This would enlist students in developing and thinking critically about their curriculum, whereas today, these activities are often off-limits to students. For example, my kid's math teachers don't hand back their quizzes after they're graded. The teachers only have one set of quizzes per unit, and letting the kids hold onto them would leak an answer-key for the next batch of test-takers.

I can't imagine learning math this way. "You got three questions wrong but I won't let you see them" is no way to help a student focus on the right areas to improve their understanding.

But there's no reason that math teachers in a commons built around the (unfortunately) rigid procession of concepts and testing couldn't generate procedural quizzes, specified with a simple programming language. These tests could even be automatically graded, and produce classroom stats on which concepts the whole class is struggling with. Each quiz would be different, but cover the same ground.

When I help my kid with her homework, we often find disorganized and scattered elements of this system – a teacher might post extensive notes on teaching a specific unit. A publisher might produce a classroom guide that connects a book to specific parts of the common core. But these are scattered across the web, and they aren't keyed to the specific, standard components of common core and AP.

This is a standardized system that is all costs, no benefits. It has no "architecture of participation" that lets teachers, students, parents, practitioners and even commercial publishers collaborate to produce a commons that all may share and improve upon.

In an ideal world, we'd get rid of standardization in education, pay teachers well, give them the additional time they needed to prepare exciting and relevant curriculum, and fund all our schools based on need, not parents' income.

But in the meanwhile, we could be making lemonade of out lemons. If we're going to have standardization, we should at least have the collaboration standards enable.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/16/flexibility-in-the-margins/#a-commons

[suntoru]

*BITES YOUR ARM MAJESTICALLY*

summary: exactly what it sounds like (pranking the genshin boys)

feat. scaramouche, al haitham, diluc, itto, kaeya, xiao, venti

a/n: happs late april fools this one was written at like 3 am

warnings: reader being an anklebiter, crackfic (completely utter nonsense), innuendos (not rated for minors), fluff

➵ “…what the fuck?”

─ ✰ SCARAMOUCHE gives you the ultimate look of disgust as soon as he feels something nom his shoulder gently. immediately he pulls back, his face wrinkling in utter confusion. what just bit him? his expression relaxes for a split second when he sees it’s just you, but goes back to repulsion. did you even brush your teeth this morning? do you know where his clothes have been? you start laughing at him because you got his reaction all on camera, but he’ll have the last laugh when he takes the story out of context. oh well, now all the fatui thinks you have an oral kink 💀💀

─ ✰ AL HAITHAM pushes his reading glasses down, slightly lowering his book to see what shenanigans you’re up to now. his eyes raise, seeing you’re now attached to his lower leg, but aside from that, he has no reaction. he saw the camera that is, until he finally turns to you and says, “interesting. according to this book i’m reading, there is more bacteria and fungi living on your shoulder than walking barefoot through the forest.” while you gag and run to wash your mouth, he smirks and continues reading his cheesy romance novel.

➵ genuinely concerned

─ ✰ DILUC, unlike the first two, is genuinely concerned for you. are you feeling alright? did you hit your head somewhere? are you drunk? you do know where his jacket has been… right? is somebody forcing you to do this? he has so many questions, but all your response is in incomprehensible nonsense muffled against his sleeve that he can’t understand. “y/n, darling? are you all right? can you breathe in there? would you like me to call my nurse?”

─ ✰ ITTO is also extremely concerned but for the opposite reason as diluc. in his mind, there is only one reason why you are biting him, and the only one that makes sense. obviously, somehow you have turned into a zombie and are currently trying to infect him. oh, but you’ll have to try harder to defeat the one and oni arataki itto! he heroically grabs a pot from the kitchen and smacks it against your face, smirking proudly. he just saved himself and the rest of teyvat from a possible zombie invasion!

➵ makes a dirty joke out of it

─ ✰ KAEYA is barely even fazed by your antics. you’ve pranked him before, and he knows you’re trying to get a reaction out of him, but he simply won’t just give it to you :( he thinks it’s fun to tease you, and what better punishment than to fluster you himself? he makes it as embarrassing as possible so you just drop it.“oh, y/n, that’s quite a revealing spot for a hickey, shall i give you a matching one?” please smack him in the face because he’s only half joking 😞

─ ✰ CHILDE is far worse than kaeya on this matter, at least he has some common decency. unfortunately for you, childe does not. if you, for some reason, decide to do this around your friends, he can and will fucking moan 💀 if you’re alone, it’s more toned down, but still teasing enough to make you want to really sink your teeth down on him. “babe, this is kind of kinky… if you wanted to initiate something, you could’ve just told me~”

➵ bites you back

─ ✰ XIAO’S first reaction is a mix of ‘wtf’ and flusteredness. to be fair, he’s always flustered with you, but he’s also confused. what do you mean by this? ah, this must be another one of those silly human customs to express love, equivalent to hugging or kissing. he thinks he’s seen a man do this to woman once, and deems it a normal thing to do. so if you ever decide to do this, be warned that you’ll be met back with an equally majestic chomp of your own.

─ ✰ ITTO’S second instinct to that of the first one is that you’re trying to start a friendly competition with him. he assumes that this is a game, and the rules are probably like the punching bag game at the arcade. the harder you hit, the more points you get! while yes, he doesn’t mind losing to you, he’s not purposefully going to lose to you either. where’s the fun in that? while you give him a baby nom, he full on inhales your left shoulder <3

➵ runs away, trips over a rock and farts cutely

─ ✰ VENTI

do i need to elaborate or

©hawkssimpsblog 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[gremlingottoosilly]

very surprised that the lovefool AU didn't have König spanking the reader while making her count every hit in German, starting over everytime she messes up 😵‍💫

GERMAN LESSONS

Your kidnapper decided to refresh your knowledge of German numbers. Unfortunately for you, Konig doesn't appreciate failure. TW and tags: Spanking, non-con, kidnapping, power imbalance, controlling yandere Konig, size difference, fingering

You messed up. 

At this point, you’re not even sure what set König – your kidnapper, as you learned to never forget – off. It might have been some slightly bratty comment, maybe your smile wasn’t cute and girlfriendly enough, maybe you were sleeping a bit too tight and refused to give him hug as he always made you do. It’s hard to predict him, with his mood swings going from almost being a loving boyfriend with an affinity for making you warm and nice for him up to a torturer who wants nothing but to punish your holes as harshly as possible. 

You messed up, and you don’t even remember how – perhaps, this is what made your punishment even worse. König has a desire to make you answer to his every whim, and when you’re as much as resisting even one small thing…

— Fucking brat. I was too soft on you, ja? 

He drags you to his lap, but it’s far from his regular affection. You could have expected kisses, maybe something else soft and pretty, maybe his hands hugging you firmly – but he drops you on his thighs like a dead weight, harsh hand pressing between your shoulder blades to make you lat flat. Ass up in the air, little clothes you had – only his shirt, of course, König fucking hated seeing his little captive girlfriend in actual clothes and not another of his sexual fantasies. 

You sob, you whimper, and you’re trembling because this is the first time he is like this. Violent and cruel in the bedroom – yes, he was kinda beating you up in his basement, but you thought that he wouldn’t drag this to your shared bed. You hoped that the worst punishment you could take is his dick up your ass or a very violent mouth fucking – not this. You hoped for a punishment to be sex, not pain. 

Not his huge hands striking you across your ass like you’re a bratty kid in need of a lesson. 

— I thought you could be a proper girl for me, Schatz. I trusted you. 

You’d say he sounds hurt, but you can recognize the sadistic gleam in his voice. König doesn’t even bother with preparing your skin first, he strikes as hard as he can – and you cry every freaking time because, oh god, it feels horrible, and you’re going to be sick, and you don’t know what to do except for crying your eyes out with every harsh slap across the plush flesh of your ass. Your skin jiggles with every strike, and his cruel laugh almost feels as painful as his hands. 

— I’m sorry! Pl…please, don’t…god…

You whimper, crying, just a dumb girl for big bad König, who has all the power over you now. Giant hands enveloping your asscheeks only to strike harder, to land blows equally on both sides of your ass. There is nothing sexy about it – you only feel a burning sensation and sweet numbness every time they hit lands somewhere new, not tearing already exhausted flesh with new pain. 

It’s like your bottom has been set on fire – he is preparing you for something far worse, you know, not even counting each strike. 

He drags his hand all across the redness of your ass, making you whimper from pain. He chuckles, knowing just how utterly pathetic you look right now – poor girl, can barely even think about getting your mind in place as you can’t even try to think about his hands doing all of this. You want him to fucking stop touching you, but you know that the chances are slim. Non-existing even. 

— Now, Schatz, it wasn’t that bad. Just a preparation. 

If that was a preparation, you don’t want to know what a real one will feel like. You whimper, trying to get up from his lap – maybe, if you cry loud and long enough, he will think about stopping hurting you. Maybe, if you’re pathetic enough, you’ll have the chance for mercy. Maybe, if you’re able to distract him from hurting you, he will think of other options for your body. 

Your hands are trying to reach his crotch – you don’t want to fuck him, but his dick is a far better punishment than his hands. You feel dirty when your hands are trying to hold onto his pants, taking them off as if you’re nothing but a depraved slut in need of a good pounding. Each ounce of dignity gets washed away as your hands softly palm his erection through his pants. Bastard is hard – you knew he was getting off from your pain, but being reminded of this so explicitly…

Only but he is striking you again, harsh palm against already swollen flesh. You yelp. You squirm. You cry. 

Of course, he doesn’t really care. 

— Being a slut won’t help you, dumb thing. 

You sob, hands retracting back to being awkwardly placed in front of your face. Your position on his lap makes your cheeks burn – both of them, which is even more embarrassing. At this point, you aren’t even sure if you’d prefer him cutting your limbs off. Maybe it would at least feel less humiliating. 

— I’m s…sorry, König, I…

He places a hand on your ass again. Softer this time, if only for a bit – your skin still stings as he continues to stroke your aching skin in a feeble attempt at reassuring. His hands are burning, and you don’t want to be touched like this, but even the slight human interaction is probably the only thing that will keep you sane right now. It might be pathetic, but just like a cat, you are crawling to meet the hand that has the power to softly cradle you. Like a domestic pet König made you to be, you hide your claws and present your rear to his touches. Maybe, he had enough. Maybe, this is over. 

His hard-on pressing in your tummy tells you another story. 

— Let’s do it this way, Schatzi. 

His other hand goes to dig in your hair, holding your head high enough to make sure you’re listening. You whimper from pain pulsating in your scalp but don’t make a sound – terrified of making this moment of kindness short-lived. 

— W-what? 

You give him the answer because you’re a good pet, a trained one, because your captor expects nothing but perfect obedience, and you would do anything to make the pain stop. Too bad that your “anything” isn’t even nearly enough. 

— Let’s teach you how to count, ja? 

He tried teaching you German, bit by bit. Dragged you a bunch of kid's books, the simplest expression took you days to learn because every mistake would mean an even rougher round of fucking, and every perfectly pronounced word would mean yet another round of “lovemaking” – soon, you learned to stagger your progress perfectly, being the most mediocre captive student this country has ever saw. You might be dumb, but…ah, no, judging by König’s standards, that’s it. 

You lick your lips, preparing for the worst. He is rubbing your ass softly, gently, but his touches aren’t bringing you relaxation – you can only wait for his to continue, to make you suffer more like he didn’t kiss you like a lover just a few days before, softly cradling your head on his chest and promising to bring you very nice cake if you’d continue to be a good girl and warm his dick with your pussy. 

— For every strike, I expect you to count. If you mess up, we will start over. 

— H…how many times? 

— Let’s start with ten, ja? You don’t look too strong right now, Katzen. 

You never looked strong, this is the sole reason why you’re even here. Not a proper soldier, not actually a fighter, just a fucking domestic girlfriend for a bastard like König, who has nothing but his ego and a rank that made you sick from how much power he had – people like him shouldn’t be in charge, even if he is a merc and not an actual commander. Even if he is nothing but a bloodthirsty hound, he still has way too much power over little ol’ you. 

You nod, but that’s not good enough. You grunt in acknowledgment, but it doesn’t satisfy him either. 

— I…I understand. Sir. 

— What are we saying to be polite, Katzen? 

— Please? S…spank me. Bitte. I promise I will count. 

You can feel his fingers twitching, trembling. He doesn’t like this little game either, it probably feels too artificial and awkward – you’d rather just be beat up by him, but alas, if he needs to take off some steam at the expense of your body…you aren’t exactly fine with that, but it’s not like you really have an opinion on the matter. At least it’s not needles and knives in your sensitive places – just his hands and your sore bottom. 

Then he strikes. 

First time, it felt like the worst pain in the world. Your ass, already sore and bruised, was heated up again – you cut down your scream because you know that he doesn’t want anything but counting. Nothing but your obedience, your pain, you might not want to be a spectacle for someone like König, but you don’t have even an illusion of choice here. You yelp, the only thing you allow yourself to do. 

You start counting. 

— E..ein. 

— Good girl. 

His fingers suddenly slip down to find your pussy, already wet and fucking messy for him. You can’t help it, it felt too wrong and too right at the same time – his hands on your body, his voice praising you like he didn’t just [unished you for as much as fucking existing. You whine, your body trembling with fear as he launches at you again – another harsh smack forcing you to remember all the numbers like your life depended on it. In some way, it really did. 

You lick your lips, biting into soft flesh to suppress your little cries. You can be stronger than this, you need to be stronger than this. 

König strikes your ass quickly, second and third time – you are keeping up as much as you can. Sobbing when he drags his hand lower, his fingers landing somewhere between our cheeks. There is still a lot of clean skin to uncover to reveal new pain – you’re sobbing between rounds, only allowing yourself to breathe when he pushes his fingers down your folds and plays with your core. 

It’s somehow worse than normal spanking. The pain was numbing, allowing you to slip into some other dimension. The pleasure is overweening, fucking with your brain like you should be thanking König for being so nice and stroking your clit between the rounds of punishment. 

You moan as he pushes a finger in, quickly forcing another slap on your already swollen ass. You don’t miss counting, but you do feel like your head is going to explode. Mind isn’t working enough to actually produce something meaningful – only pathetic chants of numbers and his name mixed properly. You feel like you’re going to suffocate. 

König appreciates the view – his darling, precious girlfriend, he never knew you could be any more beautiful but here you are, laying on his lap like a good kitten you are. With his hands bruising you, he should have punished you sooner – you have become so bratty lately, forgetting your place and who is wearing pants around here. He should have brought you across his thighs way sooner, maybe turn this into a regular thing and have you moan his name as you’re pathetically sobbing and begging for him to stop. 

He strikes you a few times more, his other hand two knuckle-deep in the wetness of your cunt. Such a slut for your boyfriend, you shouldn’t get off this kind of punishment – but of course, he can’t really blame his precious girl for being this fucking needy. He appreciated moving you from the basement, it’s much easier to be with his girl when you’re not rotting on some old mattress – yet, he feel that you started to get out of line as he allowed you too much over and over again. 

It’s a good thing he will be able to punish you even more. 

— It’s the fifth one, Liebling. Want a break? 

You consider your options, he can see your adorable face scrunching in, not understanding if he is for real or not. You’re pretty, too pretty to be this alone, small, and scared – he can’t help but lift your head again, hearing you groaning from pain as he strains your hair just so he can press his mask against your forehead. Mockery of a kiss, but he doesn’t want to face you right now. 

This whole fucking thing wasn’t comfortable enough for him. If only he could, he would just make you obedient through less awkward ways – but you’re so fucking bratty, it really is impossible. König smiles, pushing two of his fingers deep into your hole, stroking your folds as gently as possible. He is weak – he can’t stay mad at his favorite girl for long, no matter how much he wants to try and stand his ground this time. God, you’re too fucking adorable to resist.

— Please? You’re so cute, he might as well let you get out of your punishment. It’s not like him to be this soft, but he already turned your ass into a bruised mess, and if he comes any further, you might actually start to bleed – oh well, he doesn’t want this. Oh well, you will pay for this later – on your back, ass high in the air. Maybe he will try your ass today, just so he could have a nice and tight hole around him. A good way to make you shut up, for sure. 

You whimper when he is holding you close, soothing you like a desperate kitten – you cling onto him, all the brattiness going out of your body, just like he intended. So, so pretty for him, he doesn’t know what he will do with you later. 

He spanks you one last time just to hear your precious whimpers. 

God, just how much he fucking adores you. 

[gabessquishytum]

While I love Dream with past shitty partners before he meets Hob having his his mind blown after he finally experiences what a good partner actually is' how about...

Hob was Dreams first love, and with that his first everything, They did the whole romance cliché of childhood friends to a serious relationship (complete with years of pinning) on the very edge of marriage with a white picket fence and kids Dream and Hob have the worse fight ever seen by either of their families, in the end Dream storms out into the rain and Hob is left yelling at him from the doorway (1889 anyone?).

Within a week Dream has moved away to pursue his dream as a artist and writer and Hob is on a plane to start backpacking around the world. The break up is swift and painful,

Eventually Dream starts dating again, but he quickly realizes that he keeps attracting the wrong sort of people; Killala started chatting up some guy obsessed with stars the second she thought his back was turned. Alianora had only dated him because Desire dared her too, Nada has tried to use him to further her families business and Titania had already been fucking married! The less said about Cori the better.

In a different world perhaps Dream would have clung on, would have delt with it and accepted what he could get. Just believed it was all he was worthy of but the thing is Dream has already experienced what it was like to have a partner who sees you as an equal. Who loves you is faithful to you and who cares about your opinion. Dream knows what he is worth and it was so much more than what any of those peoples were going to give him.

Over a decade and a half later and Dream returns to his hometown for the first time with his little Orpheus on his hip. The boys mother Calliope was a fellow lover of the arts and a famous singer. Their combined passion had lead to several award winning pieces and the creation of their beloved son but three months into a relationship had proven they were just not compatible for anything long term but Dream is forever thankful for her steady friendship.

With Calliope away on tour and no deadlines for him to complete Dream takes his son to the local park where the boy becomes fast friends with another little boy named Robin Gadling the only son of recently widowed Robert (Hob) Gadling.

It seems the Hob with his wonderfully soft dad-bod and slightly greying temple can still ignite the same burning desire within Dream as he did when Dream was a young bright-eyed twenty year-old.

This is so glorious, can you imagine their eyes meeting across the park, past the swing sets and slides and toddlers tugging on their hands!!! Dream is sure he must be, well, dreaming. He's thought of Hob often in the past few weeks that he's been back around town, occasionally fantasising about what he might look like now. He just wasn't expecting to see his former lover and have the word "daddy" immediately pop into his head.

And it seems that Hob is, literally, a daddy. He kneels to speak to Robin, who is gesturing wildly towards Orpheus, and Dream can't even move because seeing Hob being attentive to his son is just. So beautiful. But of course Orpheus drags him over to Robin and Hob gets to his feet and he's somehow even more glorious. Dream didn't think it was possible but he immediately falls right back in love with a man he hasn't seen for over 15 years.

Hob is shy and a little withdrawn, seeming like he doesn't want to offend Dream or freak him out by being too friendly. Truthfully Hob doesn't want his heart broken again. And maybe he'd be better at resisting temptation, but Robin wants more time with Orpheus and Hob can never resist his son's puppy eyes. So he finds himself sitting beside Dream on a bench, just like how they used to feed the birds together in the old days. Their thighs brush together and Hob feels like they were never even apart. He could just hold Dream’s hand right now and they could go back to how it used to be. He hopes that Dream feels it too. That he won't be disappointed that Hob is tired, and grieving, and not in the shape he used to be.

Maybe Dream will work up the courage to tell him that his weariness and the fact that he's a little frayed around the edges make him all the more perfect. Because they match each other, perfectly.

[xxsycamore]

❝ The Benefits of Having a Scientist Boyfriend ❞ (ISAAC X READER)

╰┈➤ 💝 Isaac surprises you with a loving gesture that will also greatly relieve your pain.

Isaac Newton x Menstruating!Reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Established Relationship; Fluff • wordcount: 965 • masterlist

a/n: The author is very bad at every field of science mentioned in this fic and still stubbornly made all of the needed research (plus historical research to see how possible it is for our Isaac to put this together in his current time era) while fighting cramps of her own..... Hope you enjoy and also I hope I didn't get my facts (too) wrong! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian, Arthur (NSFW), Vincent 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than halfway done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appears as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly, moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

You weren't aware that your inner cry for help was able to send telepathic signals to your boyfriend, but you witness the miracle of him entering through the door in the very next second.

"Isaac!" You rise to a seating position as the sight of him briefly distracts you from your pain - a big mistake on your part, but before you can ask him what brings him here, the next cramp stabs you in the guts and only a painted sound leaves your lips. "Oww…"

"Are you alright? You were curled up on the couch too."

You've already instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly and it doesn't escape Isaac's gaze, but you still pretend to be brave about it and refuse to bother him with such a minor inconvenience of yours…

"Maybe I just ate something funny at lunch? You know how it is with Sebas and his fusion cuisine, always trying to live up to everyone's taste, haha…"

Isaac stares blankly at you for a couple of seconds, then he averts his eyes.

"You can just tell me if your period came, you know…"

Was it that obvious?! Maybe Isaac just knows you well enough by now - the thought brings forth a certain warmth within you… no, that's just another cramp.

"Oww owww… fine, you guessed it… Don't scold me, I'll go look for some herbal tea in the kitchen or-"

"No, lie back down." Isaac's unexpected touch changes the focus of your sensory receptors again and your heart flutters by the simple action of him beckoning you to lie down. You oblige, looking at him with large eyes full of curiosity.

"I was just about to go out for today's école lessons but let me bring you something first. Just lie here and be patient, okay? It's going to feel better soon."

Your curiosity only grows as you watch Isaac's back until he fully disappears from sight.

***

When your boyfriend returns you're overcome with the need to sit up and see what he's carrying in his hands, but you follow his advice and remain patient.

"Some time ago when your cramps were bad like that I asked you how you dealt with them back in your era. Since then I have been, uh, working on something. I figured now would be a good time to try it out."

You blink in disbelief when Isaac hands you what looks like a… heating pad, the ones that are typically used as handwarmers in your time.

"You'll have to massage it in order for it to radiate heat, but I hope that still works for you."

"Isaac you- but how-"

"It's nothing too complex. When I heard your explanation I figured it must be caused by an exothermic reaction… I happen to be knowledgeable in thermodynamics too, you know. I just had to put a supersaturated solution of sodium acetate in water together with notched ferrous metal… Simply put, it crystalizes and radiates heat. I'm still catching up with chemistry after beginning my second life here but fortunately, it was easy enough."

Easy enough, he says…

You can't just lie still anymore, so you raise your upper half enough to wrap your arms around Isaac's shoulders… you didn't plan it out exactly like that, but the physicist ends up being dragged down on the couch with you, barely able to prop himself up on one elbow at the very last second. You keep sobbing into his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so touched by your gesture! I've read about so many invitations that came out of love and-"

Isaac blushes, and he blushes badly. You see the color spreading on his cheeks when he withdraws just a tad more to leave you space to breathe, but he doesn't stand to his feet just yet.

"I guess you can call it that. I'll just be happy as long as it works for you."

Isaac punctuates his words with a chaste caress on the back of your hand which still holds the innovative heating pad. His own warmth leaves you too soon but the artificial one remains - and you find yourself wondering if you can treat it as a reminder of him, when you miss him. Maybe you should tell him that, next time you want to see his cheeks reddening like that again.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[lila-lou]

✨Rough around the edges - Pt. 4✨

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap

Word Count: 4180

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Jack watched you for a moment, the weight of the evening still hanging heavy in the air. His offer came naturally, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he spoke. “Wanna sleep? You can have my bed if you want”.

You hesitated, the thought of taking his bed making you feel slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t because of Jack, but rather the intimacy of the moment, the vulnerability of the situation you found yourself in. The idea of sleeping in his room felt too personal, too exposed, but the thought of being alone in his apartment—or worse, back in your own—was far more unsettling.

Looking up at Jack, you noticed the genuine concern in his eyes, the protective instinct that had already come to your rescue once tonight. You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond at first. The warmth of the blanket he had given you felt comforting, and the idea of being close to him made you feel safe.

“Would it be okay if I just stayed here?”, you asked softly, your voice shy. “On the couch… with you?”.

For a moment, Jack looked taken aback by the request. His rough exterior didn’t often allow for moments like this—quiet, tender moments where the lines between protection and care blurred. But he understood what you were asking. It wasn’t just about where you would sleep; it was about feeling safe, about not wanting to be alone after what had just happened.

Jack gave a small nod, his eyes softening further. "Sure”, he said, his voice low. “You can stay right here with me”.

There was no hesitation in his tone, just quiet reassurance. Jack reached over to grab another blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over you, making sure you were comfortable.

Then Jack settled himself on the far edge of the couch, careful to give you as much space as possible. He could feel the tension still lingering in the room—yours, his—and he didn’t want to push it. His hand absentmindedly ran through his hair again, a nervous habit that had come out more than once tonight. He leaned back, trying to relax, but the protective instinct within him kept him alert.

The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable, though. In fact, it was comforting—like the calm after a storm. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, and though Jack kept his distance, his presence alone made you feel safe.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Jack’s eyes flicked toward the door now and then, making sure there were no signs of your ex returning. His muscles were still tense, ready to jump into action if anything happened. But the longer the night stretched on, the more the stillness of his apartment soothed both of you.

After some time, you broke the silence, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Jack. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”.

Jack shook his head, his voice equally quiet but firm. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t drag me into anything. You shouldn’t have to deal with that on your own”.

You glanced at him, your eyes meeting his for a moment, then sniffed quietly, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, despite your best efforts to hold them back. You almost never cried, but tonight, everything was too overwhelming—the fear, the relief, the weight of the past, and the kindness Jack had shown you. It was all crashing down on you at once.

Jack noticed the change in your breathing, the way you were holding back your tears. He sighed softly, feeling the tension between the need to comfort you and the hesitation that came with crossing a line he wasn’t sure should be crossed.

Without saying a word, Jack shifted closer to you, moving slowly, cautiously. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering before he made the decision. Gently, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side. The gesture was awkward at first, like he wasn’t sure if you’d welcome it, but then you leaned into him, accepting the comfort he was offering.

Once you settled against him, the floodgates opened. The tears came quietly at first, just a few, but the more you relaxed into Jack’s embrace, the harder it became to hold them back. You buried your face into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence, and let the tears fall.

Jack held you a little tighter, his grip still gentle but firm, his large hand rubbing your arm in slow, soothing circles. He didn’t say anything, just let you cry, knowing that words wouldn’t help right now. His quiet strength was enough.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to be strong for anyone. You didn’t have to hold it all together. Jack wasn’t judging you, wasn’t asking for anything in return—he was just there, a steady presence that made you feel safe in your vulnerability.

After a while, your sobs quieted, the emotional storm beginning to pass. You felt lighter, though your body was exhausted from everything. You pulled back slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, embarrassed by your outburst but grateful for Jack’s understanding.

“Sorry”, you whispered again, your voice shaky. “I don’t usually… I don’t cry like that”.

Jack gave you a small, reassuring smile. “None of that. It’s okay”.

You nodded, still a little unsure of how to process everything. The exhaustion was starting to hit harder now, your body craving rest after the emotional toll of the night.

Jack, sensing your fatigue, kept his arm around you but shifted slightly to help you get more comfortable. “Try to get some sleep”, he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere”.

You nodded again, feeling the exhaustion pulling you under.

Jack’s hand continued to move gently along your bare arm, his touch steady and soothing. The rhythm of his fingers brushing against your skin helped to calm your racing thoughts, lulling you further into a state of relaxation. The exhaustion was slowly winning, and your body began to feel heavy, but there was something comforting about Jack’s presence—about his quiet, unspoken care.

After a long moment, you mumbled softly, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “Your hands… they’re so rough”.

Jack’s movements paused for a split second, as if caught off guard by your comment. He glanced down at his hand, the one tracing slow circles on your arm, and then back to you. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though there was a hint of self-consciousness in his eyes.

“Yeah”, he muttered, his voice low. “Comes with the territory, I guess. Working with my hands all these years”.

“Keep going… please”, you whispered, your voice even softer now as sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness. You nudged Jack’s hand gently with your shoulder, a small but meaningful gesture, letting him know that his touch brought comfort in a way you hadn’t expected.

Jack hesitated for a moment, his rough hand still resting on your arm. He hadn’t expected you to ask for more, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if continuing would cross a line. But then he looked down at you, your eyes half-closed, your body relaxed against his. It wasn’t about anything more than offering you the solace you clearly needed, and that was something he could give.

His hand began moving again, this time with more intent, the slow circles and gentle strokes staying in rhythm, grounding you as you lay there. The silence between you wasn’t heavy; instead, it was full of quiet understanding. .

You exhaled deeply, your body completely relaxing under his touch. It wasn’t just the physical comfort—it was the feeling of not being alone, of having someone care enough to stay with you when you needed it the most.

“Thanks, Jack”, you murmured, barely audible now as your exhaustion took over fully.

Jack gave a small nod, even though you couldn’t see it. “You’re welcome”, he replied quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. He continued the comforting motion of his hand until he felt your breathing even out, signaling that you had finally drifted off to sleep.

Jack stayed there, not moving, not wanting to disturb the peace you had found. As the night deepened, he kept watch over you, knowing that for tonight, at least, you could rest safely.

As the night wore on, Jack sat still, his gaze drifting between you and the quiet surroundings of his apartment. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound breaking the stillness. He kept his hand on your arm, not moving, simply letting you sleep, aware of how much trust you had placed in him tonight.

The weight of the evening still lingered in his mind—the fear in your eyes when he found you, the relief that had come when he’d stepped in. Jack didn’t often find himself in situations like this, but something about you had stirred his protective instincts in a way that surprised him. He didn’t usually let people in, and he certainly hadn’t planned to find himself sitting here, offering comfort in the middle of the night to someone who, not long ago, had been little more than a distant neighbor.

But things had shifted. He could feel it.

Glancing down at you, Jack noticed how peaceful you looked now, your face relaxed in sleep. It was a stark contrast to the tension you had carried earlier, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to relax a little too. Knowing that you felt safe enough to fall asleep beside him made something settle deep inside of him. It felt right, even if it was unexpected.

Jack leaned back against the couch, his own exhaustion starting to creep in. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring—whether your ex would come back, whether you’d still feel comfortable with him after everything that had happened—but for now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that you were safe, here in his apartment, resting peacefully after a night filled with too much chaos.

With a deep breath, Jack closed his eyes for a moment, deciding he would stay awake a little longer just to make sure you stayed undisturbed.

The next morning, Jack woke up slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and why there was a weight resting against him. His back was spread out across the couch, and as his senses came back, he realized that at some point during the night, you had shifted. Now, you were lying completely on top of him, your head resting on his chest, one arm draped across him, your legs tangled with his.

Jack’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, he froze, unsure of how to process the situation. He hadn’t planned to fall asleep, let alone end up in such an intimate position with you. But despite the surprise of it, he felt strangely at peace.

You were still fast asleep, your breaths soft and steady against him.

However, as he adjusted his position slightly to get more comfortable, he became aware of an involuntary physical response—morning arousal. His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and concern as he felt the unmistakable pressure.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focused. Jack’s mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle the situation without disturbing you. He carefully shifted once more to adjust his body slightly, attempting to minimize any accidental contact, and then focused on keeping his movements slow and controlled.

But as he did, you shifted slightly in your sleep. The movement brought you even closer, and you inadvertently pressed against him more firmly. The situation became even more delicate as you slowly began to wake, blinking your eyes open.

For a brief moment, you seemed disoriented, and the close proximity between you and Jack was evident. You stirred against him, your face brushing against his chest, and Jack could feel your warm breath on his skin.

Jack’s heart raced as he tried to remain as still as possible, hoping that your groggy state would prevent you from fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation. He continued to hold you gently, his mind racing.

You finally opened your eyes fully, taking in the sight of Jack’s chest and the realization of how close you were. Confusion flickered across your face as you tried to piece together the events of the previous night and your current position.

As you became more aware of your surroundings, the reality of the situation slowly started to dawn on you. The warmth and closeness you were experiencing suddenly felt different, and you realized the intimate nature of your position against Jack. You could feel the pressure of his erection against you, and it added a new layer of complexity to the already charged moment.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly tried to shift away, but Jack’s arm was still around you, and you found yourself tangled in the blanket and his embrace. You glanced up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of confusion and mortification.

Jack’s face reddened as well, and he immediately became aware of how the situation must look and feel. He tried to give you some space, carefully pulling his arm away, and spoke softly, his voice tinged with awkwardness but also concern.

“Sorry about that”, he said, his tone gentle and apologetic. “I didn’t mean for things to get… this close”.

You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. “It’s okay. I just… didn’t realize”.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “Let’s get you sorted out. Do you want some coffee or anything? I’ll make us something”.

You nodded again, grateful for the change in focus and the chance to distance yourself from the situation. As Jack got up and moved to the kitchen, you took a moment to collect yourself, feeling a mix of emotions—gratitude for his kindness and awkwardness over the intimate encounter.

Jack moved quickly toward the kitchen, adjusting himself discreetly as he reached for the coffee machine. His movements were stiff, not just from the night on the couch but from the lingering awkwardness of the situation. You could see the tiredness etched in his face—the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged just a little. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, that was clear.

You bit your lip, your eyes trailing after him as he worked, watching the way his muscles moved under his shirt with every subtle motion. Despite everything that had happened, there was something captivating about him—his quiet strength, the way he handled things without making you feel judged or uncomfortable. He seemed to carry the weight of his own burdens, but last night, he had taken on yours too.

You leaned back against the couch, pulling the blanket around you tighter as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your mind replayed the events of the night before—the fear, the relief of Jack’s presence, and now this strange new layer of intimacy that had emerged between you two.

Jack grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, filling them both with fresh coffee before turning back toward you. He caught you watching him, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked. There was an unspoken understanding in the air—a recognition of the closeness you had shared, the line you had both walked without meaning to.

He handed you a mug, his fingers brushing yours briefly before he sat down beside you on the couch with his own cup. He let out a deep yawn, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back, clearly exhausted. The weight of the long night, the emotional tension, and the lack of sleep were all catching up to him.

“Rough night, huh?”, you said softly, taking a sip of the coffee and feeling the warmth spread through you. You glanced at Jack, your eyes lingering on the lines of weariness etched into his face. He looked like someone who had taken on more than he should, yet still refused to let anyone else carry the weight.

Jack chuckled, though it was more of a tired exhale. “Yeah, you could say that”. He took a long drink from his mug, savoring the coffee as if it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely. “Not exactly how I expected to spend the night”.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of guilt and gratitude swell inside you. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”, you said quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “You didn’t have to… stay with me. But I’m really glad you did”.

Jack looked at you, his expression softening. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone. You needed someone, and I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay”.

There was something so genuine in his words, and it struck you just how deeply he cared—even if he tried to hide it behind his tough exterior. Jack wasn’t the type to make grand gestures or express his feelings openly, but his actions spoke louder than anything else.

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Well, thank you. For everything”.

Jack gave a small nod, his tired eyes meeting yours. “Anytime”.

The quiet stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it was a moment of understanding, where the two of you seemed to acknowledge the shift in your relationship without needing to say anything out loud. There was no rush to define it, no pressure to figure out what came next. It just was.

After a few minutes, Jack stretched his legs out in front of him and yawned again, this time not bothering to cover it up. “I think I’m going to need about a gallon of coffee to get through the day”, he said with a smirk.

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “You and me both”.

After finishing your coffee, you stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness from the night slowly easing from your muscles. The stretch caused your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a hint of your midriff. Jack, who had been nursing his coffee and trying to shake off the last of his fatigue, couldn’t help but glance up.

His eyes caught the brief glimpse of skin before he quickly looked away, feeling a twinge of awkwardness. He took a long sip from his mug, trying to focus on anything other than the sight he had just seen.

“I guess I’ll go back to my apartment”, you mumbled softly and glanced at Jack, who was already standing up, setting his mug down before walking toward you.

He offered a quiet nod, and without a word, he followed you to the door, his footsteps heavy with the same unspoken understanding that had been hanging between you since morning. Jack opened the door for you, his presence still grounding, but there was a slight tension in the air—an uncertainty about where this connection would lead.

As you stood at the threshold, you hesitated, looking up at him for a moment. Jack’s tired eyes softened when they met yours, and you could feel the gratitude welling up in your chest. He had been there for you without question, and while you knew the situation had changed things between you both, it felt too soon to know exactly how.

In a moment of impulse, you leaned up slowly, your heart pounding softly in your chest as you pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek. Jack stilled, his breath catching slightly at the unexpected touch. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, but something tender and filled with quiet thanks.

“Thank you, Jack”, you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper as you pulled away, stepping back and keeping your gaze lowered, feeling the warmth of the small moment between you two.

Jack didn’t respond right away. There was a weight to his hesitation, something unspoken, as if Jack was carefully choosing what to say next. His eyes shifted slightly, glancing away for a moment before he took a breath and met your gaze again.

“Well, maybe you can thank me with a beer sometime”, he mumbled, his voice quiet but laced with a hint of something more. He scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure of himself in this unfamiliar territory. “You know, if you want to. We could, uh… go out, grab a drink. Nothing serious”.

His words hung in the air, both casual and loaded with more meaning than either of you expected. Jack’s heart raced slightly, wondering if he had crossed a line, but he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to make the situation more awkward.

You blinked, a little surprised by the offer, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. The thought of going out with Jack—outside of the circumstances that had brought you so close—was unexpected, but it felt right. There was something comforting about the idea of getting to know him better, outside of the context of the night before.

“Yeah”, you said softly, nodding. “I’d like that. A beer sounds good”.

Jack seemed to relax at your response, a small grin replacing the uncertainty that had been lingering in his eyes. “Alright then. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know”.

You smiled back, feeling a strange mix of relief and excitement. The heaviness of the night was still there, but the thought of spending more time with Jack—outside of the intensity of last night—made everything seem lighter.

“I will”, you replied, giving him one last glance before turning to head back to your apartment.

As you walked away, the door clicking softly behind you, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things were about to shift in a way neither of you had expected.

Jack stood at the door, his mind racing. He took a deep breath, leaning against the doorframe, trying to collect his thoughts. He had spent the entire night and morning fighting against the pull he felt toward you, trying to convince himself it was just the circumstances—your vulnerability, his protective instincts—but it was more than that. And after waking up with you so close, your body against his, he couldn't ignore it anymore.

There was an undeniable attraction between you, one that had been simmering beneath the surface since the night at the bar. Jack had tried to push it away, telling himself you were too young, that it wasn’t right. But this morning had changed things. The intimacy of the moment had shattered whatever distance he had been trying to maintain. He knew he had crossed a line by asking you out, and yet, part of him couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Jack rubbed a hand across his face, feeling the weight of the decision he had just made. He had told himself that he would keep things simple, stay distant, but now that door had been cracked open. And once that door was open, there was no going back.

The age difference between you two wasn’t insignificant, and he had spent enough time thinking about the complications it could bring. But there was something about you—something real and raw—that made him feel like it might be worth taking the risk.

He sighed heavily, closing the door and walking back toward the kitchen. As he poured himself another cup of coffee, he thought about the conversation you’d just had, the way your eyes softened when you smiled at him. There was a chance here, and he didn’t know where it would lead, but for the first time in a long time, Jack felt like it might be worth exploring.

His mind drifted back to how it felt waking up with you in his arms, your warmth seeping into him, and the way your kiss on his cheek had lingered longer than it should have. He had tried to be the strong, stoic protector, but deep down, there was more to it—something he couldn’t deny anymore.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 5

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Liu Kang and others if you want receiving and hug/kiss from reader after dealing with titan shang tsung

Here ya go! Bi-Han might be a bit ooc but then again I never claimed to write characters perfectly…so there’s that.

Liu Kang was exhausted, with Shang Tsung dealt with and peace was seemingly restored, he knew better then anyone that there was much work to be done to undo the damage caused.

So much that upon feeling your arms encase his muscular build, coddling him against you as your warmth brought him comfort and security. He didn’t feel as though he was Lord Liu Kang, God of Fire in that moment but instead he was just Liu Kang; your Liu Kang. As ironic as it may sound coming from a man as powerful as him but with you, Liu Kang felt safe, he felt protected but most importantly he felt like all his hard efforts had been paid off in the form of you holding him.

A weight had been lifted from his chest, and as the fatigue he had pushed aside slowly start to take hold over him and all he wanted was to stay like this forever, to get the chance to stay with you in his arms for the rest of time, should fate ever allow such a small request to be made; Liu Kang wanted the opportunity to fall asleep and wake up to you like he should’ve been from the very beginning but couldn’t.

Now however he hopes that he could use this as a way to make up for lost time.

Raiden didn’t think his smile could possibly get any wider than it did now as you peppered his face in abundance of soft, loving kisses that left a tingly feeling in his skin after pulling away to kiss another aspect of his face, causing him to chuckle at the almost magical sensation.

His eyes would then close in utter and pure bliss as he leant into the hands that held his face as though it were a priceless antiquity. Raiden felt your thumbs brush over his cheekbones either care, leaving an invisible trail for your lips to follow along.

You were Raiden’s safe haven and he’d always find himself coming back to you no matter what his condition was, for you were always with him even if you physically weren’t because Raiden always kept you close in the depths his heart; sighting you as his inspiration and his guiding force through rough situations, hopeful that one day he’d get to return to your arms and immerse himself in your warmth whilst sharing his own in equal exchange.

You stayed within your own paradise for a long while before going back to it within the realm of dreams, huddled together like two otters, unwilling to let the other drift away.

Kuai Liang reciprocates your hug with his one of his own as an excuse to feel your warmth against him, even though the fact still stood that he ran incredibly warm for the both of you, but he disliked having to leave your side for prolonged periods of time. Something that has only gotten worse with Bi-Han’s betrayal and his promise of bringing you into their quarrel, despite the prior warnings that were given to the cryomancer.

He needed this more then you could ever know with the way he was quick to bury his head into shoulder, his hands holding onto you so tightly, you feared that your clothes would bear scorched imprints of his hands afterwards. You couldn’t blame him however and allowed Kuai Liang to cling onto you in an almost desperate plea to prevent you from fading out of his life forever.

You both held onto one another like you each other’s lifeline, like you couldn’t live without one another as you tried to move in closer to Kuai Liang in hopes of moulding yourself into his very being. You both found comfort in knowing that the other was okay, that they were safe because god forbid if anything were to happen to either you or Kuai Liang.

You were practically soulmates in the literal sense.

Bi-Han, whilst in the privacy of your shared room, would just allow you to hold onto him tightly while made no attempts as to voice his general opinion on this sort of thing.

He was ice cold in more then just powers alone.

his voice was cold.

his gaze that peered at you with judgment was cold.

His unfeeling heart might as well be a block of unbreakable ice.

His entire body was cold and that the longer you held onto him, some parts of your body -primarily in your fingertips and hands- were already starting to feel the numbing effects of embracing someone who was the literal embodiment of a wall of ice. Had you done this in public, in front of people that Bi-Han couldn’t stand, he would have no issue in ripping your arms away from his sides, leaving you to stand in your own embarrassment as he walked away.

However behind closed doors Bi-Han was more lenient towards you showing him affection. No one was nearby to witness this moment between supposed lovers, no one was here to see the one person Bi-Han admitted to calling his Achilles heel, holding onto him with such determination. So for once in his life, Bi-Han allowed those walls he built to come down as he slowly place his hands against your back, tucking you against him even further, closing his tired eyes and resting his weary head into your neck where he let out a sigh before letting himself to collapse into your embrace completely.

Bi-Han was a man devoid of such simple acts throughout his life that once it’s given to him, he has to remind himself that he was under no threat, other then being under the threat of breaking apart in your arms after endearing hardships for so long. So long in fact that a measly small act was enough to have this man crumble internally before crumbling physically afterwards.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, do you think you could write a concept for Legoshi fighting Riz for a reader that's a carnivore? Let's say that reader is a member of the drama club and is a friend to both Legoshi and Riz, but they don't know the truth about Tem's murder. Legoshi wants to protect his darling from Riz while the bear wants to, i don't know, do the same thing he did to Tem in name of their "friendship"? The thing that i like the most about your versus concepts are the multiple endings. If it's not a problem, could you add one for Legoshi and one for Riz?

Ooo! A multiple endings fic :) Been a while since I've done that, so let me try it out ^^ I never got past season 2, so Legoshi's ending is HC.

Yandere! Legoshi vs Riz

(Carnivore! Darling)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Consumption of another person, Kidnapping, Gore, Forced/Dubious companionship/relationship.

One thing I like about this request is the fact that you are a carnivore.

It puts you on somewhat equal footing with the other two.

Although, these two have eaten meat, while you most likely haven't.

You have met these two at the drama club when school was just starting for the year.

While you are aware of Tem's death, you aren't actively looking into it.

You just know a rogue carnivore snapped and mauled Tem, as a result it's been rather difficult to communicate with the herbivores in your class at times.

Which, ironically, makes you more drawn to Legoshi and Riz.

Legoshi is definitely the one protective of you while Riz... well, Riz is complicated.

Riz claims he's protective of you and wants to make sure you aren't hurt, but in reality he's just possessive.

Riz is possessive and delusional to the point of harming and eating those he cares about.

I feel the obsession for both of them is subtle for the events of season 1, then escalate around season 2.

This would be because Riz doesn't feel threatened until Legoshi goes looking into Tem's murder.

Legoshi was already close to you beforehand.

You often tried to help him through his troubles, even when he tried to hide them.

You care about him and were genuinely worried when he attacked the Shishigumi to save a rabbit.

You've always been supportive, plus maybe the Shishigumi incident increases his protective behavior.

Sure, you're a carnivore, but it still gives him the fear that someone will harm you.

Carnivores aren't invincible, after all.

You could still be attacked by a much bigger carnivore.

Which, when he's tasked with investigating Tem's murder...

He gets worried and says the carnivore may be big enough to hurt you.

Funnily enough, he isn't wrong...

Said carnivore is even friends with you.

You and Riz often aid each other in the drama club.

To you he's a relatively kind bear.

He's friendly and gets along with you despite his large size.

The only time you can sense any issues with him is during season 2 since Legoshi is putting pressure on him.

After all, Legoshi could take you from him.

I'm assuming you have an established bond with the two.

You meet them often in the drama club and occasionally outside of class too.

During season 2, Legoshi gets more protective and suspicious.

Meanwhile Riz is occasionally... on edge.

It's all strange yet you think you understand.

Tem's murder was never solved... so maybe that's why?

Legoshi already knows you aren't capable of the murder.

Which is why he's so focused on protecting you, he's worried.

Especially since you're so oblivious... which is even worse if he has a feeling Riz is the problem.

Riz, on the other hand, may distract you and act oblivious to the murder.

You're scared? No need to worry...

Riz will protect you, you're companions, aren't you?

In reality, Riz is planning ways to keep you to himself.

If you get too scared, he could lose you.

Even worse, Legoshi could make you distrust Riz...

That can't happen, can it?

I feel the dynamic is obvious.

As Legoshi investigates Tem's murder, the two get closer to you.

If you're keen enough, you may notice Riz's strange behavior and go to Legoshi.

But if you're still oblivious, then Riz has the advantage.

You'll notice their odd behavior.

After all, Legoshi never lets you out of his sight.

He's always sniffing you and checking you over, claiming he's... concerned.

When you ask why, he seems hesitant to explain yet does express that he's worried about Tem's killer.

He just doesn't tell you he suspects Riz.

Then maybe Riz notices Legoshi making you cautious.

Throughout the investigation Riz can tell that you and Legoshi are getting closer.

Who knows... maybe he'll try to make you suspect Legoshi...

He clearly knows something you don't, right?

Yet Riz would never lie to you...

You're pals! If anything, he just wants to be closer to you.

Don't you want to be closer too?

Legoshi the entire rivalry would be trying to keep you away from Riz.

The moment he knows it's him... He's trying to find ways to confront the situation.

Yet, he also doesn't want to tell you.

If he does, Riz might hurt you.

Legoshi can no doubt tell Riz's infatuation over you.

The bear watches your every move like a hungry predator and Legoshi fears for your safety like he does everyone else.

Legoshi stalks you because he feels he needs to keep his eyes on you.

If he looks away... you may fall prey to Riz.

Legoshi isn't very confident in your abilities when it comes to fighting.

Bears are naturally strong and Legoshi's trained.

You, on the other hand, haven't even tasted meat.

Legoshi feels bad for stalking you... but it becomes less about learning things from you and more trying to protect you.

He sticks beside you, invites you to hang out...

Even during your club he stays beside you like a guard dog.

Legoshi is training to protect those he loves, especially you.

He doesn't like the depraved gaze Riz gives you when he looks at you.

Over time, Legoshi goes through rigorous training with Gohin to be able to confront Tem's killer.

However, such training ends up making him tired more easily.

This no doubt stresses him out because he's worried to take his eyes off you.

He knows that you should be fine...

But he keeps having nightmares of you being hurt.

Meanwhile, Riz is on edge since he notices Legoshi's behavior.

He also knows Legoshi's has his... taste.

While Legoshi is off training and struggling to rest, Riz tries to make you trust him more.

He invites you out and makes comments on Legoshi's behavior.

Isn't it strange?

You try to explain that he's just trying to find the killer of his friend... but Riz doesn't seem to take it too well.

He claims you and Legoshi are just being paranoid... the cops should get the carnivore who did it.

You have nothing to worry about....

Legoshi can't protect you in his tired state, right?

So... let Riz take care of things...

He'll make sure you're safe.

I feel instead of Pina being kidnapped, it would be you.

Once Legoshi knows it's Riz, Riz snaps.

He fears that Legoshi will take his new best pal.

This leads to the much stronger bear kidnapping you.

You're placed in the dump by Riz, who promises to come back later once he takes care of Legoshi.

You struggle in your bonds, but it appears Riz thought things through.

You're a carnivore... which means you need stronger bonds... like chains.

The final battle would determine which ending occurs, just as you wanted.

Legoshi Ending

Legoshi's ending is the closest to canon.

This is when during the final battle, Legoshi manages to have Louis help him by allowing him to eat his leg.

This gives Legoshi the strength he needs to defeat Riz.

Their fight is brutal too.

You can hear their grunting and growling, along with blood hitting the ground.

There's moments you can even see from where you are.

Since they're fighting for you too, I imagine Riz has a hard time backing down.

He knows what he had with Tem was delusional...

Yet he feels he needs you.

This results in the bear fighting more intensely.

Unfortunately for Riz... Legoshi manages to knock him down in the end.

Both carnivores are arrested and treated, along with you being taken in for questioning.

However, both you and Legoshi are released.

Legoshi by this point in the story leaves school, he may even suggest taking you with him so he can protect you.

Even if you don't, Legoshi still often visits you outside of school.

While Riz is dealt with, he still fears leaving you alone.

It can be because he's a protective friend... or he loves you romantically.

His feelings are rather neutral and don't change too much in his intentions.

One thing I can imagine him doing is getting a place to live and asking you to live with him.

You're both carnivores... should be fine to be roommates, right?

In this ending, Legoshi becomes an overprotective roommate.

He's not too possessive... just overly worried as he knows he almost lost you.

Yet, now that you're roommates, you'll be safe with him...

He'll make sure he's always around to protect you...

Even if it means following you around like a guard dog... even while you're unaware.

Riz Ending

Riz's ending is the more... gorey ending.

This is also, obviously, the bad ending.

This is the ending where Legoshi loses.

Maybe Louis wasn't here to help him, for one reason or another.

That or Riz, due to feeling more motivated to get rid of the wolf, manages to overpower him even with Louis' help.

You're praying Legoshi will win.

After all, now you know he killed Tem.

He killed and ate Tem in the name of friendship.

What does that mean for you?

We already know Riz is delusional.

At first it was meant to cope with the fact he snapped and ate Tem due to coming off his medication.

Yet when he meets you, such delusions make him believe he should eat you too.

After all, Legoshi wants to take you from him.

Well, if Riz can't have you...

No one can.

The fight would continue as normal...

But Riz manages to take down Legoshi.

Maybe he kills him, maybe he doesn't.

Either way, Riz flees to the dump where he keeps you.

By the time you see your captor again, his clothes are mauled... and his fur is covered in blood.

Poor you doesn't have much of a chance against him.

The chains make it hard to fight back.

Riz tries to reassure you, telling you he's just making sure you stay together.

After all... This way you two can be close... forever.

No one will take you from him this way.

He tries to make it quick... yet your struggling makes it difficult.

... by the end of it, Riz feels your taste fill his mouth.

Your blood dribbles down his maw, flesh sticking to his fur.

Originally, he would've felt bad.

After all, he isn't sure if this was the right thing to do...

Yet, soon, he tells himself this is what you wanted.

He convinces himself, just like with Tem, that this was the best way to make you his.

Will he still be arrested? No doubt...

But he accepts such a fate... the deed is done...

Now Riz can have you all to himself, with no one to take you from him...

Forever.

[profoundbondfanfic]

hello! I love this blog so much - as a new spn fan (and tumblr user) it’s a great source for good fics to read, so thank you so much for this blog!

If you do take (possibly) more specific requests for recommendations, I was wondering if you knew of any fanfics where it’s cas-centric and involves him realizing/coming to terms with his feelings for dean? I’ve read a lot of (esp post-canon) fics where it follows dean’s journey with this, but not as much with cas, especially within the context of canon. Thank you, and best wishes for this blog!!

Hey! First of all, thanks so much for the kind words, we're glad you're enjoying our blog.

Here are a few fics that fit this. We included both AUs and Canon from Cas' POV with him realizing/coming to terms with his feelings for Dean.

Canon:

Better Off by caelum_writes (Teen and Up, 7k words)

As an angel Castiel never had to think about what to wear. As a man who struggles with deep self-loathing, Dean never had to think about the idea of anyone loving him.

between sex and death and trying to keep the kitchen clean by ftmsteverogers (Explicit, 13k words)

"I don't get you," Dean spits. "I don't get what you want. Just — just tell me. I'm a big boy, I can take it." "I did tell you!" Castiel exclaims. "I told you, and then I died!"

Dean Winchester and the Belly Button Piercing by Trenchcoat_Paradigm (Explicit, 34k words)

Dean Winchester was 23 when he got his belly button pierced. It was during a time in his life when everything felt like it was in turmoil (long before he even really knew what his life being in turmoil truly meant). He never intended to go out and get any piercings—his father would have never allowed it. For 20-something years it had been his best-kept secret… that was until one fateful night when a hunt went wrong and his best friend had to swoop in and help patch him up, catching an eyeful of his elusive secret. Castiel’s infatuation with his best friend took a dangerous turn that night (not that he wasn’t already treading treacherous waters with his feelings towards the man). He had already known that Dean had a piercing, but he had no idea it was still functional, and equally had no idea that a piece of jewellery, Dean’s own slice of quiet rebellion, would have such a profound effect on him. Now Castiel can’t help but want him and his fading grace is doing very little in hiding his… indiscretions. The idea of it slowly drove him insane. And what makes it worse… Castiel was certain Dean was doing it on purpose.

restless by vipjuly (Explicit, 4k words)

Kissing Dean feels not only right, it feels important, like them kissing is another one of the events Chuck intended to come to fruition when he first created the earth and all its people.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and Up, 4k words)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

The Black Trench Coat by Yool_chan (Explicit, 22k words)

When Dean found out Castiel was working with Crowley to open Purgatory, he had no choice but to leave the angel in the ring of fire with nothing less than a broken heart. But instead of plotting against his friend, Dean takes a literal sense of fire vs fire. He decides to kill Castiel with love. Or that story where Dean convinces Castiel to look into their future to see if Castiel's plan against Raphael succeeds, only to find the world in chaos and an angel donning a black trenchcoat emerges to take Dean away.

The Law of Equivalent Exchange by awed_frog (Mature, 60k words)

“And what’s the point of it?” “Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

until the end and after by Philyra912 (Explicit, 27k words)

A year ago, the world didn't end. Now it's summer and the cicadas are buzzing, and something is changing. Something is going to give.

AU:

Dean Winchester, Straight Shooter by triedunture (Explicit, 15k words)

Dean Winchester, star of StraightShooter.com, is a gay-for-pay porn star with a huge following. Cas Novak signs on to do a scene with him, even though he dislikes "straight" porn stars on principle. But Dean is more complicated than he first appears, and after inadvertently learning his secrets, Cas finds himself falling for him.

For Evermore by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 110k words)

There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster (Explicit, 94k words)

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

Satin and Sawdust by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 159k words)

When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head. Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend. But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.

Smoke In the Mirror by letters_of_stars (Mature, 52k words)

It begins with the flier hung in the library: art model needed for thesis project, will pay. Castiel figures it's an easy way to make some extra money, but modeling for Dean Winchester ends up complicating his life far beyond anything he could have imagined.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?

[bloogers-boogers]

Anyways guess who finally got some sleep at the hotel? And also a nightmare! Yup, Adam

(Eden Adam AU)

-Cain and Bernadett-

In this Au Eve had abandoned Adam with their first born son Cain (who turned out to be Lucifer's son confirmed by the angels). Adam and Eve were seen as 'Night and Day' Adam represented humanity and hope, a bright future ahead of them. While Eve represented sin and darkness, an eventual death.

One cold night Eve had parted ways with Adam claiming she'd go fetch some of their clothing in the river while Adam looked for shelter to protect Cain who was sick from a really bad fever, he found the shelter, a cozy nice cave big enough for the three of them, he waited outside while Cain was tucked inside wrapped around the fabric of his robe, he stood for hours freezing himself in a hug waiting for the arrival of his wife. Yet she never returned. At first Adam remained hopeful she would return even after a period of him searching for her around the fields and woods; worried she may had gotten attacked or lost, yet still found nothing that could lead him to her.

The angels one day landed on earth, Adam was sparkling with joy hopeful that they knew where Eve was. Yet, they gave him a devasting news that almost broke him.

Informing him that Eve was seen leaving earth to join Lucifer in hell.

At first Adam couldn't believe it, there was no way Eve would abandoned them. She would never abandon Cain! Anger and betrayal surfacing and taking over cutting through his heart like an axe. He wasn't even given the time to process this after they also revealed Cain wasn't his and instead; was the son of the devil. Instinctively Adam hold on to Cain protectively thinking the worse of the angels, it was the only thing he had left, he wouldn’t be able to bare losing him too, but they reassured him they couldn't do anything as it wasn't in their right to do so. That Adam must pay for his sins (and for his wife's) and raising a son that wasn't his (the son of the devil) was enough of a punishment. However, they would return eventually to declare of the next solution to the now growing concern: The possible extinction of humanity. Now that mother of humanity was no longer in the picture, who would bare the children to the world? It was only Adam (male) and Cain (male, baby). So solutions needed to be discussed with, and pronto.

And oh, did they in fact, find another solution.

It took five years, five dreadful years alone raising his son Cain, alone. Through sickness and pain, starvation and fear, cold and heat; he did it all to keep his son alive. His gut told him that Cain would take his spot keeping humanity alive and he couldn't ask for anyone else better enough to take that role better from him. And somewhat he was right. The angels returned, finally giving him his new task, on what was going to happen next. He was prepared, he even made sure Cain looked presentable enough among the devine to show them the future ruler of earth.

So Bernadette was born. A beautiful baby girl with blonde curly hair and green eyes. She was made from leftover dirt from the creation of both Lilith and Adam. She was technically an 'equal' but she remained inferior to both first humans by the little amount use on her which is why she was made a baby instead of becoming Adam's third wife.

Her purpose was to be Cain's wife. As Adam had already guess, Cain would take his place as father of humanity and he was okay with that. However, his new purpose given was to raise the children until they were at the age to fend for themselves.

With time the children grew older, Cain was always by Adam's side no matter what. He was his biggest support in his most weakest moments, he was there to help him provide a safer living, he was a strong and caring boy, and Adam cherished his son more than anything the angels could've offer him. Bernadette was his biggest comfort, she'd hold him tight when things became too overwhelming, and knew the right words to cheer him up. She had a strong character, her emotions where always kept control, fearless and courageous. She kept them fed and made sure their home was always guarded while they hunt for food or other resources.

However he would not deny that he felt a bigger connection to Cain because of his mother and because he was there at his birth, he was there when Eve presented her first symptoms of pregnancy, the months of pain and struggling Eve dealt with while carrying him. He was his, blood or not.

But the angels had made it cleared that both children weren't Adam's. Adam would called them his family, angels would defined them as a group. Adam would call Cain his son, angels would call him son of Eve. Adam would claim that Bernadette was capable of doing the same tasks as Cain, angels would claim she shall not. Adam would claim that Bernadette was an equal to Cain (inferior), angels would remind him she was not (superior).

Bernadette would spend most of her time around the angels when they were present, they guided her through everything and they made it know that Adam was not her father and Cain was her soon to be husband. While with Cain they left him alone most of the time, and they let it slide for him to call Adam 'dad' as he was not much of their concern, conflicted opinions was casted on Cain when they had no choice but to resort for the second father of humanity. This difficulty was all linked being the son of the actual devil when Bernadette was not. Bernadette was their pride and joy. Cain was just… Cain.

With years passing by Bernadette became more beautiful, an absolute gem under a bunch of mud. Cain fell head over heels for her in a heartbeat. At this point the angels had separated Bernadette from Cain and Adam. Their claims were because there was still so much to prepare Bernadette before becoming mother of humanity, she would be the main leader of earth being Cain (corrupted) an inferior in their eyes and she should not indulge in sin just yet.

Both Cain and Adam protested not liking the idea of her being alone but angels stated they will guard her until she was ready to conceive a child.

Adam still didn't understand why she needed to be separated.

Another few years had past and the angels came back to Cain stating Bernadette was ready and she was now bride of Cain. Cain eager to greet Bernadette after years of not seeing her, was excited. However Adam took caution of the careful wording of the angels "your bride Bernadette, Cain" "Bernadette your husband" (having been used to the this sublime type of wordings the angels would use on them (on his son) this could be also seen as Bernadette not entirely belonging to Cain. Why didn't they use wife?)

Adam also notice that years really did went by fast, Bernadette was now a grown woman, completely changed and he wondered if she could see the changes on Cain too.

Cain had become stronger, he wasn't the same scrawny looking boy she had grown accustomed back when they were just children. He was well fitted, more than capable of protecting her and their soon growing family. He was the perfect provider and husband Bernadette deserves.

Adam was proud to say the least that he managed to do his job well on creating the perfect man and father of humanity earth needed. Now newlyweds lived separated from him.

However, thinking his duty was finally over, that was far from the case.

Bernadette showed no interest on pursuing Cain, neither was she impressed of his courting. Adam would try giving advice to his son but neither was he understanding of the matter considering he never needed to court Lilith or Eve to form some bond, they just did? Though, he knew the feeling of not being able to receive the affection from your spouse (Lilith) but there was a point Lilith and him were attracted to each other, it just didn't last long as what the angels would've wanted. Either way, his advice was pretty much useless because Bernadette made it too difficult to Cain.

She did what was told, she gave her body to Cain and was now expecting their firstborn. But eventually, Cain would come looking for him and tell him he couldn't feel the love being corresponded and that he yearn to feel her warmth. Adam sympathize with Cain, having felt this himself with Lilith.

But he really couldn't do anything.

What he didn't expect was for Bernadette to keep looking for him. Yes, she was wife to Cain and lived in separate homes but they weren't too far apart. Bernadette would give her part on the matter, complaining about Cain's lack of ability to understand her. Telling him that Cain would have temper tantrums and lash out on her. Things Cain never told Adam about but he knew his son well enough to know these were true. Cain was perfect in many ways but he had a temper, he was inpatient and impulsive. But it never went so far on causing too much damage. So maybe he should speak to him about it.

So far, Bernadette was still the sweet and caring girl he raised. Gentle, loving and soft spoken. Though, now there was more elegancy and grace in the way she spoke from being around the angels for far too long. She was also more frail looking compared to when she was with them, her rough edges had smoothened down with delicacy all of the lectures and teaching from the holy beings overshadowing her previous teachings of survival. Hopefully her skills weren't forgotten.

Oblivious to all, Adam never consider there was even the slightest possibility that there was something far deeper into the behavior of Bernadette.

Bernadette was in love with the first man: Adam.

Yes, she had fallen in love with the first man even before the angels had taken her away. She never felt the connection of father and daughter dynamic Cain would claim them as, he even once called them siblings because "equals but not entirely" thing he'd tease her for. Neither did the angels felt comfortable in that matter, they agreed with her that Adam was a whole separated thing from them. He was initially perfect, yet corrupted from sin by being tricked of his own wife. He was innocent and loyal since the very beginning. That snake and unfaithful woman ruined everything! Adam was meant to be father of humanity and by the wording of God himself.

It was only right for her to stand next to him as the third and actual deserving of the title: mother of humanity. Adam's wife. But unfortunately they were not successful in making her as such; from the lacking of material stored. So she had to be confirmed with Cain.

She also grew resentful of the constant labeling when it came to being wife of Cain. Every lesson was to be of a good mother and spouse. To serve and love her husband, all of that silly yapping she supposed they had firstly taught the first woman and the second.

Still, initially oblivious of their ulterior intentions. The angels and Bernadette were far alike when it came on holding the same opinion and wishes in regard of Adam.

The angels were hopeful that if Bernadette was separated from Adam for a certain period and then reunite them again after so long, seeing her as the full grown woman that she's now become, that he'd take a liking to her and claim her as his wife; retaking his initial purpose. But no, not even a spark on those eyes when she reached out her hand to greet him, just genuine fondness and happiness to see her alive but never more. While Bernadette was holding herself back from jumping on to the first man's arms and claim him as hers.

However, they waited long enough and the angels insisted for she to claim Cain and conceive a baby. She denied and protested she was not in love with Cain and did not want him, to calm her down and not attempt a 'Lilith' they made a agreement that benefited both; a promise that her second born would be of Adam's.

This was enough to let Bernadette pleased.

Adam was shocked when the angels had called him and Cain in for some news. Cain was still overwhelmed with many feelings after the birth of his first daughter Merida. The first man was immediately alert for literally anything; he did not trust them.

But what shocked him the most was what they told them.

"To make things quicker you must share Bernadette. The timing of your development delayed many possibilities of growth so we must now make up for the time lost," Raphael told them.

Adam wanted to screamed for the amount of bullshit that was, but he had to keep it cool these were superior beings from them, "pregnancy still last for nine months why am I needed for all of this? It only requires one man to give her seed."

"It would help prevent birth defects if the children aren't fully from the same blood," Michael simply added.

"It is not a choice Adam, it's an order," Sera spoke much stern compared from the others, " your seed is crafted by God's hands, it's a blessing and it would garantee to grant more than one child in Bernadette's womb as the intended purpose of the creator was for you and the first woman to create very quickly. While with Cain we are not certain when exactly they'd have multiple."

Adam glared at them in the first time in forever he wanted to run away and never returned, now he understood why Eve left. Fuck, why Lilith left him too..

He glanced at Cain and he was absolutely furious from jealousy.

"Doesn't Bernadette have a voice in the matter?! This is so wrong! Adam is like a father to us!"

"But he's not," Michael coldly admitted.

Cain eyes opened wide, "w-what is that supposed to mean?!"

"That he is not your father, never was and never will be. He was only there to raise and keep you alive. We made that cleared countless times. You're son of Eve and fruit from infidelity, the son of Lucifer: the devil." Raphael continued on.

The second man gasped tearing out, "I thought you guys were just messing with me about that!" Seemingly forgetting to consider angels rarely humored anything.

"we do not mess around with humans," Michael cleared out any of his doubts, something in that sentence hold a whole different meaning.

"You should feel grateful we had to spare you as it's not in our right to take you out, only God can," Gabriel added.

"And Bernadette is okay with it. We've already discussed this with her and she's fine with having to bare one of Adam's children," Sera lastly added, to finish the discussion. And started their exit; leaving both humans alone to deal with their issues.

Cain that day broke in tears, falling on his knees and accepting a truth he tried burying for so long. He would always be seen as the son of the devil.

Adam knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around in a hug to comfort him.

And it went like that, Adam and Bernadette's first son Abel and daughter Azura was born. Bernadette was happy, genuinely happy compared to her first labor. Cain couldn't help but difference her reaction from carrying his father's baby over his. Jealousy rising in his heart everytime he'd see how Abel and Azura overshadowed Merida, the way Bernadette after conceiving with her father would now try latching on him with every opportunity she'd get (to try and conceive again with him). Let's not forget about the fucking angels favoring the children of Adam and the idea of her continuing birthing more of Adam's children was far more recommended.

However for everyone's displeasure with the exception of Cain, Adam kept denying and distancing even further away from the ideals of heaven. He was left disgusted from his intimacy with Bernadette, it changed him. It was becoming worrisome as it was a sign Adam was losing his faith so they all started being more subtle and decided not to push the issue any further than they should (which made Bernadette upset.)

It took nearly five years but the angels manage on convincing Adam to conceive a second time with Bernadette. Adam's spark for living was returning in flames (but not in the way the angels would've wanted. Not a leader. It was paternal) by having to raise Abel and Azura. They were his life. He was smitten of love for them. Protect them at all costs. He did the same with Cain’s children but it was just slightly different.

Even more time went on and children from both Cain and Adam wondered around the (now) small village; starting to become a more common thing to see. Now descendants became a thing, and eventually it grew in bigger amounts that the humans started dividing themselves in different sections.

Eventually conflict arises as newfound jealousy became more intensely evident once Abel grew older, Cain felt that his father had completely replaced him (even if that was far from the case.)

Abel was attached to the hip of Adam. He was the shoulder the first man could rely on for everything. Those were all things he use to be! And Cain hated it. It was a feeling he couldn't shake off, no matter what he did, even when Abel was so nice to him and there would be times they'd get along. He had even become null over Bernadette and Adam having sex, it was far more easier to forgive than whatever hatred he holds for Abel.

He also despised how the angels would prefer his offerings over his.

It didn’t take long for things to take a turn to the worse. When Adam began feeling life wasn’t as bad as he thought it’s, all hoped shattered when Cain murdered Abel. The light in his eyes had drained out completely. No longer did he care.

The banishment of Cain broke him.

Things drifted differently and he was forced to take Bernadette as his wife. To continue repopulating.

But Adam was far disconnected to even realize how much easier it was to submit to the angels wishes.

Life was basically meaningless, only made to follow orders, submit and worship. And so he did.

Like a puppet. Lilith’s words echoing his head in ongoing whispers, ‘we’re nothing more than objects with no free will to them. While we submit they will remain in control. They would destroy, change, put us through pain and reconstruct us again, break us again, and do it again over an over until we’re nothing more than dust and broken shards. No longer fixable, no longer useful.’

Bernadette took the name of Eve. For Adam’s displeasure and the angels delight.

They were both promised heaven.

Adam and Eve were back and ‘thriving’.

And with that, Adam wakes up, sweating and anxious unable to move. His body frozen, unable to scream, cry as darkness wrapped around him like a blanket. A red brightness coming underneath the bed hovering the walls and ceiling forming a form of a smiling woman and a apple.

Before vanishing in seconds and returning to the same silent darkness of the night Adam was already use to. Able to move, Adam calmed his breathing, seeking answers far from what he could able to understand. Things he couldn’t piece together. He didn’t know what it all was, what it meant. But he sure knew, he did not like it..

He feared being alone, and he let that know to the closest person he could find comfort with.

Lucifer.