#^ that all is unrelated to this drawing. i just like to scatter notes around my work

[st4rstudent]

[wicked-elfie]

Time Swap (ROTMNT)

Time Swap AU created by @teetlezhere

Chapter 7

TW: Mentions of death, anxiety, LOTS OF CURSING AND YELLING

Beginning / Previous / Next

( you guys can’t imagine the shit-eating grin I’m wearing as I sob rereading this. )

~*~*~*~*~

In the future…

“This is it…” April leans against the doorway, Raphael towering just behind her, but refusing to look into the room. Leo hesitantly steps in; His face is puffy and stained with salt along his cheeks. He’s trembling like a leaf in the wind as he takes in the mural.

Leonardo sits upon his tired feet. The wall before him is coated in vibrant, practiced strokes. The portrait subject is none other than an exact replica of his twin’s face. He takes note that his brother appears young in the painting, just like back home; Mikey painted this. He also takes note of a set of nunchucks nestled in the corner with several trinkets and a photograph of a wrinkled Michaelangelo, grinning, wedged between two other mutants. One of his thin, but toned arms is wrapped over the shoulder of a small axolotl mutant. His opposing hand rests on the knee of a tall, stern-looking salamander Yokai. The worn photograph is surrounded by an array of brightly colored candles, flickering quietly with the light breeze that dances in from the hall. There are several other images and drawings scattered around the room and plastered to the walls. Leonardo doesn’t recognize most of them, but he can pick out a few faces: Cass, Sunita, Señor Hueso and his son, and… Splinter.

The teen hears a loud slump before he is encompassed from behind. He wants to fight to hold, but can’t bring himself to. His brother is much larger now, but the contact is so familiar, he finds himself defenseless to its power. He lifts his shaking hands to grip onto the massive arm over his chest, tethering himself before he crumbles into the hug. Dead silence fills the air as Leonardo’s eyes flick across the wall. So many faces. God, there’s so many faces. He chokes on a couple sobs, his lungs burning in agony, before letting out a blood-curdling scream. April flinches at the sound, covering a quiet gasp with her hand as tears slip past her emotional blockade. Raphael tightens his hold on his baby brother. Wailing defeatedly at the wall before him, the boy doesn’t know if it’s anger or sadness coursing through him. As he digs his fingertips into Raphael’s embrace, he decides he feels grief: erratic, unrelenting, and not even entirely his own. He wants to hide, he wants to run, to tear down the pictures, to throw himself off a ledge, to hug his family, to sleep in a pile after a Jupiter Jim marathon. He needs to hear his father complaining about his back; to watch Raphael and April, carefree, sparring in the training room; to smell Mikey’s amazing cooking from the kitchen; and he desperately needs to feel his twin’s breathing as he leans against him while he clicks at his phone and chuckles at a video of a cat or a stupid angry Twitch streamer. His brothers and his father are still out there - just not here - but as he stares at the memorial before him, he feels as though he has already lost them. After all, in this future, Leonardo had lost them.

He’s drowning helplessly in his own mind till he senses a cool wetness, running across his shoulder and down his arm. The sensation makes him shiver as it tickles its way along his torso; It’s sobering, and it’s heartbreaking. His body turns inward with the weight of an exhausted warrior pressing against him. His breathing slows and his clutch relaxes. The two brothers take several minutes to quietly mourn in whichever way. April softly turns away a couple concerned passerbys who’ve come to make sure no one had been hurt, given the scream. She steadies herself against the doorway, fending off sleep-deprivation and crippling heartache. She can’t stand the only sound in the space being Raphael and Leonardo’s hushed weeping. She can’t afford to fall apart as well; She pretends as though she isn’t already whimpering into her hands as she watches over the pair.

The dense atmosphere is interrupted when Raphael’s voice croaks out, “They’re still out there. Your brothas are still out there… Leo will make sure it stays that way.”

The younger ninja shakes his head slowly, still recovering from the swelling in his brain. “Raph… You are my brother. These are my brothers. This… Krang… They took everything from us: From you.” Leo squeezes a couple times at the warrior’s fist, asking him gently to let go.

The giant’s head pulls back and his hold around the teenager falls. He whispers to the blue-banded boy, “This isn’t y’a fight. You’re gonna go home. You’re gonna be safe. This future? This ain’t something you’re gonna have to live with. I swear on my life, little brotha.”

Leonardo turns to him, his eyes glassy and red, “Your life doesn’t matter to them! None of these lives do! I-“ He digs his fingers into the dirt floor, scrunching his brow. He snags a handful of dust from the ground and stands. “I can’t-” His eyes peer at the mural, first for several seconds in sadness, then in a flash of rage. He launches the dirt towards Donatello’s portrait and growls, “Shit!”

Raphael winces at both the powder that now covers the purple-banded ninja’s eyes, and at Leonardo’s language. The eldest always tried his best not to curse, partially because his father would’ve had his head for setting a bad example. However, the middle brothers - especially Leo - always took a liking to profanities: usually when they were upset. “It’s funny, y’a know… How different you became in the future, sure, but also…,” the snapping turtle chuckled almost bitterly, “but also how you’re just the same.”

The teen seems to release some of his tension as he listens in to the older mutant’s words. “How so?,” he mumbles, still glaring daggers at the wall.

“Well,” Raph lifts his knee and places a hand upon it to assist him in standing. He grunts as he raises himself off the ground, “the first time you saw the portrait when Mikey finished it,” he steps forward, dusts off Donatello’s dark eyes, and points at a splatter of orange poking out from underneath the right iris. He continues with a bittersweet smile, “y’a threw his paintbrush at it. You were upset because you were convinced he was still alive. You never gave up. Y’a never do: sometimes to a fault.” He faces the younger ninja again and engulfs his shoulder with his large hand. “And you apologized, of course, but y’a still went searching every few days, for three years… Three. Years…Y’a kept looking for ‘im.,” Raphael’s voice wavers. “You never even actually stopped believing either. It’s just, with all the losses around you, y’a had so much responsibility, especially with Casey. After Cass died, you and y’a partner practically adopted ‘im.” The snapping turtle lets his hold slip down to Leo’s arm. “But your duties - your family - this war… Y’a grew up so quickly from the first attack to fallin’ through that portal.”

Leonardo snarls at the ground, “Great… I even managed to start a family, and that was taken away too.”

“That’s not the point, Leo…”

“Really?! Because I haven’t even heard of said ‘partner” yet! Let me guess! He’s somewhere on this stupid wall! Which one is he? Is he human? Yokai? A scientist? A warrior? Even maybe a nurse? I wouldn’t fucking know, because I can’t even begin to guess given how many goddamn faces there are!” He throws Raphael’s hand off his arm and attempts to level his height to the snapping turtle. “Casey has been out cold for three days! You and April haven’t slept a fuckin’ wink! Our brothers are dead, Raphael!” His voice crackles and any tears left in his eyes have dissipated. His tone is cold as ice when he continues through bared teeth, “Our father… is dead…” His chest heaves from overexertion. His vision is tunneled as he turns to the door. “I’m gonna send these assholes to Hell for what they did to my family.”

April blocks the exit, “Leon, you are out of your mind if you think we’re gonna let you try to take those guys head on.”

Raphael attempts to clutch the younger mutant’s hand, only to watch it be snatched away. “Please, Leo. Y’a need to listen to us. We’re gonna go after them, I promise, but we need a plan. We have to work togetha.” He sighs and slicks back his bandana, “That’s a lesson we learned tha hard way.”

The teen tsks and continues towards the door. He grabs hold of his katanas, “Then It’s a good thing I haven’t learned that one yet.” He stares down the woman in his path, “I’m going.”

The commander takes a single step forward, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

Raphael’s eyes widen as a soft blue glow emits from Leonardo’s blades. “No…” He rushes forward, “Don’t do this, Leo!” He reaches out in desperation.

“Watch me.” With a flash, Leonardo slices a portal into the floor and falls through.

Raphael grabs nothing and crashes to his arms and knees, “Gah!” He holds his side and winces in pain.

“That asshole’s gonna get himself killed.”  April whispers as her terror-struken gaze meets Raph’s.

The snapping turtle clumsily stands and scowls, “Not if I can help it… We’re goin’ in after him. I am gonna go grab him by the shell, drag him back here, and beat his ass myself…” As he storms past her, April knows he would never lay a violent finger on his brother, but his language and the darkness under his brow could convince her otherwise.

[karanuit]

LA ROGUE !

synopsis. in which choi san shaded the universe in dark red love for her, but she had no idea of his existence. muses. choi san and female reader. genre. dark angst with a hint of smiley san. trigger warning. mentions of gore and minor character death. type. yandere mafia. word count. 4,560 words. mirae's note. please take note that the depiction of the muse in this writing does not reflect upon their behavior in the real world nor do i condone the actions taken by the muse, this is all purely a work of fiction.  

it was love at first sight.   

when choi san saw you for the first time, dazzling smile with rosy cheeks to compliment the gleam within your warm eyes, he could have sworn that the heart he had proclaimed to be shattered had skipped rapidly to stop his breath of awe from slipping out of his lips. the finger that once rested upon the trigger had fallen loosely as his eyes remained glued to your hair that flowed with the wind once she had tossed your head back to let out a melodious laugh at whatever your companion had told you.  

"san, what is your status?" the stern voice fell upon deaf ears for the entranced man had pressed himself against the windowpane to watch the sun glisten upon your natural skin, your figure accentuated by your casual attire that unintentionally teased his tainted mind. his sharp eyes darted to the person sat opposite of you, barrels of bile churning in his stomach at the sight of the unknown person gently caressing your hand.  

his hand wrapped tightly around the handle of his gun, the temptation of executing the source of his sour mood too colossal of a chance to pass up until static pierced his ears. a painful hiss tumbled from the color streaked hair male as he pressed upon the device and uttered out, “what the hell was that for?”  

the receiver merely chuckled, seemingly amused by his reaction before he replied, "just had to make sure you're still alive and remind you that ogling at that girl isn't worth as much as completing your mission."  

a low growl echoed from the assassin, anger rearing its vile head once he remembered the reason for his original position and heard the mocking tone of his friend when he brushed upon the core of his attention at that very moment. he hadn't bothered to fully open the window as his bullet had already embedded itself within his target, the sight of their blood oozing while they lay sprawled across the dirty ground triggered a chain of screams and bystanders who sprinted away without a second look.  

he found delight in their reactions, a twisted pleasure relished by the male, until he looked at you once more.  

the smile on your face had slipped away, the mask of fear covering your frozen state before she was tugged away by your companion whose arm wrapped around your waist in order to hold your closer to their body. san stiffened immensely, his slender fingers ready to dispose of another body out of jealousy but the emotion washing in your eyes caused a halt in his actions. he couldn't scare you, he couldn't even bare to face the harsh reality that he was the reason for your fright.  

instead, he resorted to falling back on his seat and crossed one leg atop of another, brows crinkled in thought while he caught his bottom lip between his pearly whites. he pressed a finger to his ear piece and called out, "sangie ~"  

a sigh reached his ears, followed by a bored voice that carried over the rapid taps of fingers pressing along a keyboard. "you only call me that when you need something." the secluded male paused, seemingly taking a sip of a drink. "what is it now?"  

"tell joong hyung that i'll be late tonight please!" he left no space for the older male to question why, the device already tossed carelessly on the table next to him. his firearm lay idly next to a knife that he couldn't help but to pick up and run his finger along the jagged edge. if he had pressed harder, blood would have stained the metal yet he wouldn't care as he found joy in pain.  

san giggled, the spirit of a child looking to make an appearance through the sound before he squelched it deeply. a deep shade of rouge flashed by his eyes, the image of you imprinted in his mind like a flame prepared to lure in a moth. his mouth nearly watered at the thoughts that associated itself with you, playing him a line that had him craving a bigger mission.  

he needed to have you, he was sure of that. he couldn't let himself live for another night without you under his protection and love. he'd do anything to have you, no matter what the price may be. he'd slip his way into your heart easily, he'd devote yourself to no one but him.  

but first, he had competition to discard of.  

the moon had appeared once more, her jet black fields covering the once azure sky.  

san rested upon a roof where he was offered a clear view of his opponent, the latter unaware of the unrelenting stare that tried to mar their skin. it was not hard to find out where the male lived as yeosang had given him the home address of his darling where, to his utter disdain, your companion had left you at the door with a gentle kiss to your cheek. he poured out his anger through his clenched fists, repeatedly reminding himself to be patient before he lost his chance and sunk into a life of regrets.  

elation coursed through him once he noticed that his darling lived a fair distance away from what the person that he deemed to be a troubling issue who had no right to be near a beauty such as his muse. as he watched his opponent stride across the dimly lit streets, he found the eagerness of execution too much to bear for much longer. it was alright, he assured himself as no one was around to witness the oncoming slaughter of dirty blood.  

beneath the occasional blinks of the gleaming stars, he stealthily approached his prey with his ebony irises smothered by a wicked glint. his hand tightly gripped on the handle of his knife, its sharp blade resting by the curve of his hip. no sound resounded from his steps, agile movements hidden under the thuds of the other's footfalls.  

the victim pivoted their foot, ready to take a new turn onto the next street until a hand encased their throat roughly and allowed their body to fall against the lean build of his captor. their feet kicked against the pavement in a futile attempt to stand on their own balance again but that only angered the taller male, his calloused hand wrapping tighter around their neck. they couldn't find their breath, the air held within the grasp of the stranger until they was held up against a brick wall.  

their body trembled, the action fueling the deranged assassin who looked at him with a mix of fury and insanity. they weakly cried out for mercy, hoping to find a reason for their undeserved fate. "w-why are you d-doing th-this-?"  

"you’re trying to take her from me." the victim's eyes widened as they tried harder to escape the clutches of death by claiming that they had no idea who he was talking about but they only received mocking laughter in return. "you can try lying to me as much as you want but i know you want my darling."  

he took the knife in his grasp once more, waving it slowly in front of his terrified target with its edge drawing closer to his skin with each sway. a gulp lumped itself through his throat, quivering eyes flitting with the movement until it rested by the along the column of his neck. they looked into those dark eyes once more, looking to beg for mercy but choi san was not a man of forgiveness.  

his taunting smile was the last sight the held to their eyes, the words of their killer ringing endlessly in his ears like a poisonous mantra.  

"have fun dancing with the devil." 

choi san wanted to crumble. 

after washing his hands in the slain blood of his latest victim, he had discarded the body in a manner that would ensure no one would find out of what he had done. he had then laid a veil upon his deed and forged a text that would seem as though the male had left for another lover before leaving it in the hands of you, his beloved darling. though he believed it was for your benefit, it wasn't enough to brace him for the translucent tears that stained your cheeks and the high intake of wine that you poured upon your supposedly broken heart. 

his lungs clenched tightly, the sight nearly enough to make him punish himself by ensuing the same fate but he couldn't be selfish. not when he knew that you were still in pain and in need of solace from the bleak stains that your so called lover's departure had left behind as a painful reminder. so, he stood by the sidelines, waiting for the perfect moment to approach his darling and sweep you off of your feet like a knight in shining armour. 

even though he knew patience was key to his plans, he couldn't halt the restless bounce of his leg as he perched himself on a stool while nursing a glass of whiskey that had yet to be consumed. numerous glances were thrown at him, whispers of awe and lust filled gazes surrounded him yet he only had his eyes on you, his darling who sat only a few meters away from him in a booth while your friends scattered across the dance floor. clad in an off-the-shoulder, black dress that fell above your knees and your favourite pair of shoes adorning your feet, san couldn't help himself from straightening his back and licking his chapped lips. 

she was truly an ethereal sight to behold to his eyes that he had nearly let the hungry glances of onlookers float over his head until one foolish soul decided to approach you with an aura that exuded lust. his jaw clenched at the sight, the glass in his hand nearly shattering by the iron grip he had upon it as he watched you shuffle in your seat, the look of discomfort written on your face. you gave the stranger a small smile, trying your best to polite in brushing him off but he certainly wasn't having it as he leaned in closer with a sly smirk on his face. 

that was his cue, he told himself. this was the spotlight preparing itself to shine upon him once he entered to save his damsel in distress. he approached the sight with long legged strides, the sounds emitted from the speakers doing its best to drown the rise of gossips. with a professional smile on his face, he stood by the table and asked, "excuse me, is there a problem here?" 

his cat-like eyes caught your shoulders sagging in relief, the muted breath that left your pursed lips sending a swell of pride in his fibers. on the other hand, the muscular male scoffed at his entrance and remarked, "it's none of your business so you can run along somewhere else." 

there was a subtle shift in the assassin's expression, muscles tensing before he raised a hand to pat the persistent male on the shoulder before lifting his lips to whisper by his ear, "i can tear your limbs right ere but i won't as my darling is here. i'm only showing mercy because of her, you better get out of my sight right now before i change my mind." 

he had made his warning sound as easy as saying one's name, the gory thought sending a multitude of tremors across the other party's spine. he nodded mutely, quickly scurrying away from the dangerous male before he could decide to change his mind. the exit was left unnoticed as san had already turned to his darling with a look of concern and slowly advanced, frightened that he would startle you after the scene that had just played out. 

"are you alright?" his voice was laced with worry, you had to take half a minute to retrieve yourself from your shocked state before you could reply, "yes i am, thank you so much for helping me." 

you sent him a smile of gratitude, the gesture breaking itself to serve as more drugs to his addiction. he played it off, a small chuckle that matched the soft lilt of his voice filled your ears and was welcomed warmly as he told you, "it's not a problem, anyone in my position would have done the same thing." 

the scarlet streak haired male mentally praised himself, very proud of his "achievement” that he had almost let your question be blocked off by his celebration.

"can i get you a drink?" he shook his head and sent you a dimpled smile, the look nearly sending your heart swooning for him but you tugged yourself at the last second. your brows knitted in a frown, the feeling of uncertainty crawling upon you as you tried to think of how to repay him. 

as if he was a mind reader, your savior handed in a suggestion. "why don't i keep you company instead, to make sure that the encounter doesn't repeat itself." 

you were quick to bob your head up and down to show your agreement, words chasing after your nod. "that would be lovely, especially with my friends having fun on the dance floor." 

he moved to the other vacant seat in the booth, arms rested upon the table before he propped his elbow up and rested his head upon the palm of his hand. he looked at you with glazed eyes, silently admiring all of your features with the struggle of restraining his movements high on his radar. you took another sip of your drink as you watched your friends tear up the floor before catching your newfound company's gaze upon you. 

"did i smudge my lipstick?" you quickly moved your hand to hover over your lips, fingers darting towards your skin to wipe away the possible stain. he shook his head again and answered, "no no, i'm just wondering what a beautiful lady like you is doing at a scene like this." 

the giggle that he had dreamed of hearing had finally graced his system, followed by a playful reply from you. "i bet you say that to every woman during the first meeting." he played along by remarking with the dimples of his grin visible once more. "you can ask them if you'd like but i highly doubt you will find anyone else but yourself on that list." 

that had taken you aback, your lips forming a small o as you stared at him with disbelief. "you're joking! i'm really the only woman you've talked to?" 

his free hand reached back to scratch the nape of his neck and reveals the small freckles that dotted across his milky skin. there was a bashful tone in his voice as he corrected you, "you're the only woman i've ever gathered up the courage to approach since i struggle to interact with the opposite gender." 

You rested your hand upon your chest and replied with your bright smile nearly blinding him. "well i'm honored to be your first." they shared a laugh from their conversation, the past event erased from their minds before he spoke up, "but really though, what made you decide to visit a nightclub?" 

her fingers played with each other, a habit of yours that you had picked up whenever you were sad, as you explained to him the backstory that involved your ex-lover and your friends deciding to bring your out of your shell to remove the memories that he had bestowed upon you. san listened intently, a small nod that let you know that he was listening until you had finished. 

"he's an idiot." you giggled at his first reaction, your heart lightening considerably like the story had been a burden upon you that you didn't want to bare alone any longer. he brought his hand under the table, balling it into a tight fist at the mention of the male but he hid it behind sympathetic words. "i'm sorry you had to waste time on a player like that." 

your shoulders shrugged, the small sigh escaping from you as you said, "well i can't change the past so all i can do now is move on and look forward to not making the same mistake in the future." he took an empty glass that had been left behind and held it up with complimentary words for you. "cheers to that." 

you clinked your drink with his and took a slug of the liquid before leaving it on its place mat and taking a glance at the watch that rested on your wrist. a small mutter was covered by your breath, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip as you looked to be pondering about something. it was obvious that you had made a decision once you finished the last of your drink and took your clutch into your hands. he watched you with a slight tilt of his head and asked, "leaving so soon?" 

an apologetic look was sent in his direction as you voiced out your reason. "i have bundles of work to attend to tomorrow so i have to leave now unless i'd like look like a zombie who is doing her best to nurse a hangover." you glanced at your watch again before taking out your phone and holding it out to him, asking for his number so they could hang out some other time. 

he was more than happy to oblige, the number inputted in less than thirty seconds before he returned the device to you with his contact saved as ‘best boy san’ with a heart by his name. you sent a message to the number, the vibrate of his phone alerting him of your text before you gave him a wave and exited the venue. 

“i hope to see you again!” you had exclaimed on your way out, your voice overpowering the booming speaker sounds and reaching his ears easily. he wanted to tell you that he was sure that you'd definitely see each other again but held back his tongue, letting a smirk play on his lips. 

the pieces of his plan were falling into place. 

the day had finally dawned upon the horizon. 

after numerous exchanges of messages between the two of you, along with a few brief and "unexpected" encounters on his part, the male had deemed that you were finally ready to love him. there were no faults in his plan, he had made sure of that but his best friend had tweaked it without permission. 

"i told you to take her with no harm, why's there a cut on her forehead?" when he had heard the knock upon his bedroom door, he was excited to be greeted by the sight of his darling in wooyoung's arms but upon further inspection, his mood had depleted by the blood that dripped from your minor wound. without a second thought, he had taken your unconscious figure from his best friend and placed you upon his bed, adjusting your head above the pillow. once satisfied, he darted across the room to grab his first aid kit and patched up the injury silently. 

the younger male who stood by the side shrugged nonchalantly and simply told him, "she tried running away and ended up bumping her head on the corner of the dining table, it's not my fault she is clumsy."  

he had earned a hard stare for his explanation before a sigh followed it up. "you can go now woo, i can handle this." 

the seducer nodded, acknowledging his dismissal before sending a smirk his way and a light tease in the form of a short melody. "have fun but remember, we also need sleep too so try to keep it to a minimum ~!" san spluttered for a reply, his mind doing its best to repel such impure thoughts as he had wanted to keep you innocent for as long as he could. his best friend's smirk grew wider before he shut the door behind him, off to fulfil his own tasks. 

a bouquet of blue daises sat upon his bedside table while he sat at the edge of his bed, gently running his fingers through your silky hair while he hummed a soft tune that he had learned from his childhood if he could recall correctly. he went along with this for an hour before you began to stir, lashes fluttering open to reveal your glazed irises as you blinked owlishly to regain focus. 

"san?" your throat was parched, his name had barely slipped off your tongue before a thump resounded through your mind. you raised a hand to your forehead, shocked to feel a fabric upon it before your eyes looked around to grasp at the unfamiliar surroundings. the aforementioned male stayed silent for a moment before gently cooing, "careful there, you took quite the hit." 

the last time they saw each other, he had an innocent gleam in his eyes that could send any heart toppling if it were to be combined with his charming, dimpled smile and quick wit that stood as the topping on the icing. that was the choi san that you remembered, not this supposed impostor who looked at you with a warped glaze and whose voice held the tone that an adult would use when speaking to a child. something was not right, the dread that smothered your heart was enough to tell you that. 

she tried to speak again but he held up a hand, as if pausing your sentence before he offered you a glass of water. though wariness had taken control of your body, the need for liquid in your system was too overwhelming that you took the whole glass in one gulp. he nodded, seemingly happy with the outcome before you asked, "w-where am i?" 

a frown implanted itself on his face once he heard you stutter, a twinge striking his chords as he came to terms that you were afraid. you were scared, because of him. this nearly tore him but he held up a gentle façade and answered, "you're in my home. well, it'll become our home sooner rather than later." 

"o-our home?" you looked bewildered yet terrified at the same time, the two emotions colliding with one another to form a reaction. his smile appeared once more yet it didn't hold the same effect on you as it did before. instead, it shot off flares of panic and worry within your trembling body. "yes, seeing as how we belong to each other now." 

the words were a flurry, a tsunami that sent your mind toppling over itself and into a black hole. everything you thought you knew about the male in front of you was thrown down the drain, there was no trace of who he was in front of you anymore. your mind knew this yet your heart was in denial of it, desperation brimming over the edges. 

"no. this isn't real, this is a nightmare. no, it's not possible." your teary eyes roved over his face, your heart shoving you to believe that there was some silver lining yet all you found was a poisoned yarn that tied you up in the place he wanted. you shook your head and bit on your lip, coming close to drawing blood as you wailed, "i want to wake up right now!" 

san tried to swoop in like he did before during their first meeting, offering soothing words and gentle pats on the hand but it was too late, you had seen too much. he tried his best, slender fingers caressing your cheeks as he whispered, "it's okay darling, i'm here for you." 

"i want you to get away from me! i want nothing to do with you!" 

the pieces of his heart fell past his stomach, body frozen as he processed your words. it was his turn to deny what you had said, his hands trembling as he looked at you with wide eyes and a jut in his bottom lip. he resembled a frightened, ingenuous child so closely that you almost sat up so you could comfort him but held back. you no longer trusted him, wary that it was only another façade to lure you in. 

he shook his head, vehemently pressing for what he believed was the truth as he took your hands in his and asked with a quiver in his voice, "that's not true, right? you l-love me, i know you do. it's hidden deep in you, you just can't see it yet because of that scum of a lover you once had." from the mention of his deceased adversary, his head tilted slightly with his lips curling into a proud grin as he added on, "they didn't even put up much of a fight, they were obviously a weakling who can't protect you like i can." 

the ice drew up your veins as realization dawned upon you like a blow to the gut. "y-you, you killed them?!" you tried to wrangle your hands out of his grip but he wasn't willing to let you off, nodding eagerly as an answer while the crazed smile rested on his face. "of course, i did it for you!" 

her head drooped low, the bright eyes that once held joy and warmth were encased by the dark light. it was his fault, he was the one to blame for the sorrow that was sewed within your heart. for too long, you had grieved a lost love with the fault on your shoulders yet it was never your sin that had taken away the one you had loved. it was him and his deadly obsession with you, one that you couldn't fathom as to why it existed in the first place. they both held different perspectives but, in the end, they were both present to witness the same outcome. 

his once warm hand cupped your face, slightly tilting your chin up so he could look at the only pretty face that he could bare to look at for the rest of his life. the pad of his thumb gently caressed your skin while the tone of his voice contrasted that vibe. "don't fret too much darling, you'll learn to love me one day." 

she attempted to dig your nails into his palms, the twisted desire of watching him bleed would have been a small amount to avenge the innocent blood that he had shed. your plan had been foiled when he pulled his free hand away from you, seemingly aware of what you were thinking of and playfully tutted. "now that's not very nice, i know you're more kind that you're portraying." 

her reply did its best to drag a slash across his impenetrable forces. "you know nothing about me. if you did, you’d know that i wish you get sent to hell so you can burn there for the rest of your life." your voice dripped with the putrid acid of hatred you held towards him as clear as his twisted love for you. 

"oh darling, i'll drag you in with me so we can burn together forever." ⠀⠀⠀ 

[glassworkspiderlilies]

portrait of a lady

Genshin Impact | Lumine/Albedo | AO3 Summary: Three times Albedo draws Lumine, and the two times he doesn't. Notes: mr. albaedo...

.

.

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Dragonspine is only the beginning.

Albedo is well-informed about her by now, one would think, after running so many tests and observing her first-hand. But those were all in controlled scenarios of his own making, and so, he discovers, that outside of that, there is far more to Lumine, stranded Traveler of worlds.

Somewhat surprisingly, there are quite a few chances to see her out and about around Mondstadt. Albedo is, besides Chief Alchemist, also Captain of the Knights of Favonius’ Investigation Team—which means he too does his fair share of fieldwork, granting him opportunity to cross paths with her at unexpected moments.

But even so—the Traveler has her goals and he has his, and since Dragonspine, he spots her only in passing.

As such, in order to perform a separate study when he only sees her in such scattered moments, Albedo does the other thing that he does best besides alchemy and childcare—

He draws.

.

It is one thing to see her combat in a controlled situation, and another to see her fighting out in the wild. Even from the distance that he spots her, she is quite the sight. Lumine is strong; this he knows. But her movements are different when she’s in a trickier situation and does not have to account for the safety of another person. She is as vicious as she is elegant—relentless in her swordsmanship, flawless in her footwork.

It could be a dance, almost—and so too can he see that it is not one meant to be performed alone. The one who stands beside her can only be just as formidable—and of course it must be her missing brother, whom Albedo feels like he can picture despite never having met him. Still, she does what she must to make up for that lack of partner, and with one final array of slashes nearly too quick for the eye, the Ruin Guard falls. Lumine pockets the core of the monster before flipping her sword into the air, and it disappears to wherever it does.

She’s on her way again before Albedo thinks to call out to her, unwilling as he is to interrupt whatever mission she’s on without a particular reason.

Instead, he flips open his sketchbook. He has a very good memory, but he uses quick, broad strokes anyway to capture the basis of what he saw before a certain amount of detail is inevitably lost to the limits of brain capacity. He is in the middle of a field investigation with the command of other knights, so it won’t do to take too much time for something so completely unrelated.

That night though, he sits at his desk and refines the sketch. The sharp angles of her arm as she cuts through the Ruin Guard’s tough body, the fluidity of movement from one slash into the next, the flow of her hair as she whips her body around to dodge…

It is not perfect, but it is passable. There is only so much he can derive from such a short moment, without additional time with the model.

Still, it will do, until next time.

.

Miraculously, for all the dangerous maneuvers she tends to do, the Traveler’s flight license has yet to be revoked. She always falls just short of penalty, in a way that makes the Acting Grand Master’s lips pinch together and the Cavalry Captain grin in delight when they see her. Jean can only sigh and request for Lumine to simply be careful, to which the Traveler dips her head obediently and solemnly swears that she is, and would not let her flying jeopardize herself or the citizens’ safety.

There is something about the way she says that, so serious and matter of fact, that goes beyond simple confidence in one’s flight skills, and has the Knights questioning.

But they do not ask, nor can they really figure just what it is exactly they want to question.  

Albedo, of course, observes. She is so natural in the sky, the glider seeming like an extension of her body. She flew exceedingly well even after she’d been first gifted the glider, according to Amber, even when Stormterror’s winds had whipped her so suddenly into the air. Lumine has Barbatos’ blessing, it is true, even if not quite in the form of a Vision, but her skill does not feel owed to that. Jean, gifted with her Anemo Vision as she is, is not so remarkable in the skies; even Amber, three-time winner of Mondstadt’s Gliding Championship, does not quite have the particular easy grace that Lumine does.  

It is….baffling, this ever so slight yet just discernable difference that cannot quite be explained.

Albedo sees her sometimes out in the field, a large shadow overhead as she glides. On somewhat rare occasions she will accompany him while he experiments in the wild, and he watches with mild trepidation as she steps off the sides of cliffs so casually, unfurling her wings like an afterthought to retrieve an herb or some such thing down below.

Other times, she drops from such great heights that he can only marvel at the lack of fear.

He is painting below Starsnatch Cliff the first time this happens, suddenly hearing a soft call of Albedo! in the distance. It takes a minute to locate where it is coming from, and he squints to see the tiny figure of the Traveler atop Starsnatch’s tip, waving her arm. He waves back, but he cannot hear what else she is saying nor understand what she is gesturing at, and tilts his head in confusion. In another minute, she takes a running leap off of the cliff, gliding towards him. He watches as she soars, then takes out his sketchbook to capture her figure in the air. Albedo’s eyes follow her as she glides past him, and—ah, the band of hilichurls making their way towards him must have been what she was trying to warn him about.

But then—she drops suddenly, hurtling down with such speed that it is genuinely alarming, the wind whistling. Her sword manifests in her hand and she uses it to pinpoint her landing; she slams into the ground, the blade sinking into the sand before her knee does, her other leg bent and braced for support. The hilichurls are blown back from the resulting blast of power, and she’s up again in a flash, ready to fight.

Albedo blinks before adjusting his gloves, and joins her in the clean-up.

“Are you not afraid of falling?” he asks, immediately after the battle is over.

She turns to him with a faint smile, putting away her sword.

“Not when I mean to,” she responds. “Are you not afraid of surprise attacks, if you are so focused on your art?”

“I would not be Chief Alchemist or Captain of the Investigation Team if I could not handle such situations,” he replies politely, “Though I thank you for your concern, and assistance.”

She gives him an amused look.

“Are you hurt?” he queries, glancing at her knees, “That was…quite the landing.”

“It is not so bad with sand,” she shrugs, brushing off the grains that have stuck to her skin, “But I have gotten better at mitigating the damage.”

He raises an eyebrow, and her lip quirks up as she awaits his potential scolding. There are a few beats of silence between them before he sighs.

“I trust you know what you’re doing,” he relents, and her eyes grow more mirthful.

“As do you,” she says pointedly, and he holds out his hands in defeat.

They have a quick lunch—she splits her food with him despite his protests—and she’s off again, always busy.

Albedo stays behind until the sun begins to set, filling pages in his sketchbook, the image of her descent burned into his mind.

.

“You want a lesson on alchemy?”

He blinks at her in surprise as he lets her into his laboratory. She steps in carefully, looking around with interest and taking in its disorganization and clutter.

“This is not so different from Dragonspine, is it?” Lumine says, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and he coughs lightly in mild embarrassment. “And yes. Is it so surprising? Timaeus has been a great help, but I do not think it remiss to ask his teacher for guidance as I move on to craft more complicated things.”

“From what I hear, you are shaping up to be quite the alchemist yourself,” Albedo says, crossing his arms and putting a thumb to his chin in thought.

Both Timaeus and Sucrose, who had seen her craft in person before while he has not, had mentioned that she was taking to the process quite well.  

“You are exaggerating, surely. Perhaps it may seem that way when all one crafts is the occasional potion. But as I said, I find myself needing to make use of more complicated alchemy if I want to reinforce my weapons.”

Albedo hums, studying her. It is true that such a thing was one of his topics of particular interests for a time, hence her coming to him instead of Sucrose, who was far easier to find.

“Have you ever thought of becoming an alchemist, with this growing interest of yours?” he asks, motioning for her to come closer to his crafting table.

“Ah, Sir Kreideprinz, is two students not enough?” she teases lightly, “I’m afraid I haven’t the proper time to invest currently, as you must know. But I shall promise not to abuse any knowledge you are willing to impart upon me.”

It startles a laugh out of him—one, because it had not occurred to him that she would, and two, because what was considered misuse of the art was not always the same between alchemists.

“All knowledge is worth having,” he murmurs absently, and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, but he says nothing further on the topic of potential misuse. “Alright, then. Look here…”

She is a good listener, despite the complexities of the process he outlines. They discuss the theory, and he shows her how to combine the pieces she’s brought to higher-level material. She watches with a nearly hawk-like keenness, and asks him to repeat the process a few more times before she attempts it herself.

It is all about trial and error, in the beginning, and so Albedo steps away and takes the back seat as he watches her work out the formulae and arrangement of materials on the table to achieve what she wants. He pays close attention to prevent any dangerous accidents, but also idly puts a pencil to paper while he observes her.

Her focus, the way she drags her fingers lightly over the symbols as she thinks, the purse of her lips as she works out what she needs to…yes, drawing her is never tiring.  

Eventually, she succeeds in her crafting, straightening out her back and smiling in quiet pride as she turns to show him the results. Under his further guidance, she uses her newly crafted materials to reinforce her sword, and they both look upon the end result with satisfaction.

“Good work,” he says, as she prepares to leave, “May this serve your well on your journey.”

She glances at the papers he had set aside before coming to assist her again, unable to see what is on them from this distance. Still, there is a knowing gleam in her eye.  

“And may that serve you well in your research,” she replies, with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

His lips twitch in amusement, but he does not respond.

.

As much as Albedo loves Klee, she is a boundless ball of energy, and he must admit that he is not always able to keep up with her. It is why there is a rotation of knights to look after her when Albedo is particularly busy and cannot be disturbed—and playing with Klee comes to be considered tantamount to a training regimen. Oftentimes the girl will have left a string of exhausted knights—especially recruits—in her wake when he finally comes out of his laboratory.

So it is odd that this time, when he comes out to take down his “Experiment in Progress” sign, that the halls are unusually quiet. The knights seem fairly undisturbed, and he does not even hear any distant telltale explosions to signal her presence.

“The Honorary Knight is watching Klee,” he hears Jean say, and Albedo turns around to see the Acting Grand Master smiling at him as she comes down the hall. “The last I saw them, they were in the courtyard.”

“I see,” Albedo says, inclining his head in thanks, and goes searching.

Jean had spoken truly; the two are still in the courtyard, sitting on the grass, and apparently weaving stalks of dandelions into garlands. Albedo is surprised to see Klee so focused on such an activity, when she usually prefers more active games.

“Hello,” he says, to draw their attention, and Klee perks up immediately, rushing over to hug him around the middle.

“Albedo! Are you all done now? Can we eat dinner early? Can Miss Lumi come? We played all day so I’m really hungry!”

Albedo pats her head and murmurs acknowledgement of her requests, his eyes crinkling as he looks over at Lumine.

“Jean had mentioned you were watching her,” he says, “Thank you. I hope you were able to convince her to leave the fish population at Starfell Lake intact.”

To his incredible surprise, Lumine’s cheeks turn faintly pink, and Klee begins to jump up and down, still holding onto him.

“Albedo, did you know? Miss Lumi is really good at fishing! She can catch them with just her bare hands! We brought lots back, so can you make Woodland Dream tonight, pleeeeeeeease?”

He blinks at Klee, then looks back at the Traveler, who avoids his gaze and steadily continues to weave dandelions together with careful precision.

“With her bare hands, you say?” he asks, and his sister uh-huhs enthusiastically.

“Oh! But I want to finish making these first! Albedo, do you want to make one too? Miss Lumi says that in some other worlds, flower crowns are a sign of appreciation!”

“Alright then,” he says, though Klee is already dragging him towards the spot she had temporarily abandoned.

He is quiet for a while, letting Klee and Lumine show him how to bend the stalks carefully and weave them tightly without breaking. But as he falls into the proper pattern, he is too curious to stay silent.

“…Where did you learn to catch fish with your bare hands?” he asks innocently, without looking up.

“…The fish population is intact enough that, given a little time, Starfell Lake will be full again,” Lumine says first instead, sensing the question he is not asking. “But—nowhere in particular. It is simply a matter of practice. It was a silly thing that Aether and I had challenged each other to do one day, and then contested one another for the most caught.”

Her tone grows a little quieter at the mention of her brother, her eyes more melancholy. Albedo glances at her, but before he can say anything, it is Klee who broaches the subject.

“What’s Mr. Aether like?” she asks cheerfully, and Lumine startles at the question. “You’re twins, right? Do you look exactly the same?”

Lumine blinks, her eyes growing thoughtful.

“No,” she says absently. “But we do look…very similar. His eyes are a little sharper, and his nose is a little more pointed. His hair is sort of like mine, but he could never the front to lie flat. Back when both of our hair was long…I braided his, but he liked it so much that he kept it. He cut mine for me, when I wanted a change.”

Albedo looks at her, noting what she says, trying to imagine her other half.

“Go on,” he encourages, and her eyes widen a little as she pauses, thinking about stories to share.

Haltingly, she tells them a little more about her brother. How he favored the hotter months over the cooler ones, how he liked acrobatics when they flew, how he preferred darker clothing over lighter ones. As she speaks, Albedo forms a clearer picture of Aether in his mind.

In the course of this, Klee ends up dozing against Albedo’s side, though she tries hard to stay awake.

“Ah, I tired her out,” Lumine says, her eyes crinkling.

“Quite the feat,” Albedo murmurs, patting Klee’s arm. “Ah, Klee. What about dinner?”

“Woodland….Dream…” she murmurs, and Lumine chuckles.

“It was all she could talk about, at the lake,” she says, reaching out to stroke the little girl’s hair tenderly. “I have high expectations.”

“It’s my specialty,” Albedo says easily, “So it should not disappoint. Ah—here, this is for you.”

He gives her the garland he had woven, as well as the finished one of the two Klee had been making, as Lumine was undoubtedly meant to be one of the recipients. Lumine blinks, taking the crowns gingerly.

“Appreciation, right?” Albedo says, and Lumine nods.

She puts both on her head, and then places the one she made carefully on Albedo’s.

“My gratitude, for dinner,” she tells him, and he smiles.

“Well, you will have to come home with us first,” he says as he picks Klee up, and she blinks a little in mild surprise before smiling back.

Albedo leads the way, and it is not long before Lumine falls into step beside him.

.

He is finishing up some sketches in the library when she climbs through the open window, startling him out of focus.

“Hello,” she greets amicably, sliding into the chair across from him.

“Hello,” he greets back, “That was quite the entrance.”

“It’s faster this way, sometimes,” she says, and he blinks at her, unable to formulate a response to say otherwise. “How many hours have you been here?”

He blinks again, working out the time via the position of the sun, peering out of the window.

“Four hours, perhaps?” he guesses, and Lumine hums, looking at the papers laid out in front of him, which are all various portraits of her.

“Will you finally tell me what this is about?” she asks, propping her elbows up and putting her chin in her hands.

He smiles.

“Nothing so mysterious,” he says, gathering some of the drawings closer to glance at for reference, “I have said before you make a fascinating study, have I not? But I suppose I did want to try something.”

She raises an eyebrow in question, but Albedo signals for her to wait a moment as he makes some minor adjustments to the piece he is working on at present, which is tilted towards him against the edge of the table and thus out of her sight.

“Alright, then,” he says after a while, “Here—all of these are for you.”

He places this last finished piece on top of the small stack resting on the seat of the chair next to him, then hands the whole thing over, and she takes the little pile with open curiosity.

Her expression changes to shock when she looks down at the first drawing.

“…Aether,” she whispers wonderingly, her hand hovering over the portrait as if she is afraid this too will disappear in front of her.

“You paint quite a vibrant picture when you speak of him,” Albedo explains, “So I thought I would try my hand at actually putting him to picture. I am sure there are inaccuracies, but…tell me, how did I do?”

She is silent as she goes through the others—some quick sketches, some more detailed renderings, some smudged with color, and even a couple of full paintings. Her eyes grow wet as she looks through each page, pausing here and there to trace the lines with her fingers, or to relax her grip so she does not crinkle the paper overmuch.

“Near perfect,” she finally says, very quietly, as she looks at him. “Albedo, this is….remarkable. I feared…forgetting small things about him, with the time that had passed. Thank you.”

He is not sure what to say now that she is teary, so he coughs a little and pushes the sketches of herself towards her, as well.

“You are very welcome. I confess I may have given him some of your mannerisms, for lack of other reference. But when you fight, there is a space for him, and I can guess how he might compliment your movements as you must complement his. Of course, as I have never met him, I did take some liberties…”

He trails off when she looks at him again after studying her portraits, her gaze a little more intense.

“You…must have been studying me quite closely, to produce these,” she says, tone deceptively mild.

“Ah—my apologies, I suppose it was presumptuous of me,” he says, worried about losing her regard, “I—sketch people around Mondstadt so often, they have grown used to seeing me do so. But I should have asked your permission.”

“Oh—that is not what I mean,” she reassures him, tilting her head, “I just hadn’t realized you were paying quite so much attention to me. I would have sat for you, if you asked.”

His eyes crinkle at the suggestion; she bore his constant tests with great patience up in Dragonspine where others would not have so readily, and here she is still willing to do additional favors for his whims.

“I appreciate the offer, but it was not such a…staged manner that I was after. I enjoyed seeing you simply going about your activities.”

She hums, gentling putting down the stack of drawings before leaning back in her seat a little.  

“And now?” she asks, and he blinks at her, confused at her meaning. “Is this moment also something you are looking to draw?”

He stares at her, taking in her profile in this moment, a curious feeling creeping over him as he observes her. The quiet intensity of her gaze, the faint smile curving her lips, the weight of some sort of expectation in the air…

“I…suppose I could, but as I mentioned, I was hoping for something other than a controlled environment,” he demurs hesitantly.

“Ah, so you believe this a controlled environment?”

He pauses again, taken aback, and as if to purposely disprove his implication, a strong gust of wind rushes through the open window. The papers on the table rustle loudly, startling the both of them, and the two instinctively surge from their seats, lunging across the table in half-panic and slamming their hands down to prevent the sketches from flying away.

“Oh no—have we creased them?”

“No, they are fine, I believe.”

They look up then, realizing how close they have come to each other.

A few heartbeats of silence pass.

“…Do me a favor, if you please,” Lumine says quietly, as they try and sweep the papers back together. There is a balance hanging between them that has not yet broken while they do so. “Keep these portraits of me. If you…come across my brother, please give them to him.”

“I will keep them safe,” Albedo says, narrowly missing grazing her fingers as he lays another sketch onto the pile, “It is no trouble.”

She smiles faintly.

“I should hope not,” she murmurs. “I shall…entrust myself to you.”

She means the drawings, he knows, and yet there is a slight unguarded lilt to her voice, and he does not miss the double meaning.

There is a question here, an offering, if he chooses to accept it.

At this distance, they can see each other’s eyelashes; one slight movement and they could be touching. The delicacy of the moment is suspended as they stare at each other—Albedo’s blue, blue eyes are wide and searching, Lumine’s pink lips slightly parted. The gauzy white curtains are billowed upwards by the wind again, fluttering over them like a veil, hiding them from direct view.

A soft murmur, a gentle brush of cheeks, a warm puff of breath.

…Do you trust me, Albedo?

…Yes.

Their silhouettes slowly drift closer.  

[irwinkitten]

step forward | poly!kayshton

request from anon:  Please please do an alpha and omega ply?kayshton where Ashton knots the omega and gets her pregnant during her heat. I love love you writing this ship so much! notes: i’m not even sorry. i got so carried away. thank u @sexgodashton​ for being cheerleader and letting me murder you with snippets. and thank u for gifting us with this a/b/o!sos universe. once again, don’t like it? don’t read it. warnings: smidge of angst, smut, breeding kink word count: 3.4k lmao i give up trying to write something short for this ship.

donate to my ko-fi here

find more of the abo!sos universe by my twin over here

-

The relationship between the three of you had certainly rocked the boat with people, a lot of people still scathing over the fact that Ashton and Kaykay were mated too. 

But the way they bore your mark with pride, quietened a lot of the noise, especially when Ashton finally admitted in a documentary how difficult the comments had made his relationship with Kaykay to begin with. 

“What people don’t realise is that we toed the line for months. Instinct was telling us we're mates but our minds refused to accept it. We knew there was no way two Alpha’s could be mates.” Luke has been sat beside him, nudging his leg against Ashton’s. 

“It was difficult to watch them both struggle once they’d marked each other and the world ripped them to shreds.” Luke added when Ashton remained silent. “Their love was a beautiful thing to witness but they couldn’t show any affection unless it was behind closed doors. We dropped a lot of so-called friends who reacted badly and continued to do so.” 

Ashton snorted and blew out a breath of air. 

“We were so unhappy and it hurt because there was nothing we could do. I’m almost certain that had our omega not come into our lives when they did, we’d have fallen apart. And losing something like that changes you.” Ashton grimaced before his attention refocused on the interviewer they’d gotten for the documentary. 

Their eyes were wide with shock at the admission. 

When Ashton had gotten home that day, you’d been at work, and he needed to reassure himself. So he’d knotted Kaykay holding her tightly. And when you’d gotten home, smelling of the unmated Alphas who traipsed through your store, his emotions had driven instinct to claim you again, Kaykay doing the same. 

You were precious to both of them and the documentary had highlighted it to the world that it was all of you together. No one could take that away. 

As time went on, people slowed down on their remarks and it was easier to go out in public. Despite being an omega, you could hold your own and never held back when people made comments. 

You were possessive and they loved it. 

It was when your heat had passed and something Ashton had said during the previous one when you’d clawed desperately for them, despite triggering your orgasm, it had sat on your mind. 

“Can we talk?” 

He’d been sat in his office, eyed focusing on some of his work, but you offered the distraction that he was craving. Kaykay had been out doing errands and you’d been pottering about the house. It was a day off for you before you were in work for the next week to compensate for the days you’d be missing during your next heat. 

“Of course. What’s up sweetheart?” His haze finally broke from the screen, spinning in the chair to face you.

Your teeth pressed against your bottom lip as you sat on the futon style sofa that sat within his office, Ashton pulling his office chair closer to you. 

“Do you really want to breed me or was that just your rut talking?” You finally got out and Ashton froze.

Your face grew hot as you looked down at your lap, your mind struggling to accept that maybe he would want this as well, but his silence was deafening. 

After a few more minutes of silence, your nerve turned into sadness and you fought back the tears that were threatening to spill onto your cheeks. 

“It stupid. Forget that I asked.” Your voice broke mid sentence and it seemed to break your Alpha from his silence as you stood up. 

“Sit down, little omega.” Your knees buckled under the order, a fleeting moment of panic hitting you that he would use the alpha order to break your heart this way.

“Look at me.” You obeyed. Watery eyes met concerned haze and his face fell as he moved off the chair to kneel in front of you. “Don’t cry my sweet omega, you just caught me off guard.” This time it wasn’t an order but your body begged you to fight the tears so the sad look on his face would disappear. 

“Alpha.” You got out and his heart broke that you would feel so upset that you couldn’t use his own name. 

“Sweetheart, do you realise how long I’ve wanted to see you pregnant with our pups? God, do you realise how often our mate complains that she wants to breed you when you’re in heat?”

“But that’s the rut talking is it not?” You demanded, the first tear falling. He sighed. 

“Sometimes, yes. But this is something we want too, sweetheart. Even when you’re not in heat, I dream of nights where your belly is swelled with our child, and it drives me to distraction.” His admittance soothed your worst fears as you both heard the front door slam shut. 

“Kaykay, come up to the office love.” Whether he meant it or not, you could see there wasn’t much room to deny that order. And soon enough Kaykay was standing at the door smirking. But then her face fell at your tears, anger flashing across her features. 

“What happened?” Her haze had moved to Ashton and so the order in her tone didn’t hit you completely. 

“A misunderstanding when our little omega caught me off guard. They want to know if we really want pups with them or if it’s our ruts talking.” Ashton’s cool tone with the words had you wanting to look away, but his fingers caught your chin. 

Kaykay was breathless before she stumbled over, dropping to her own knees and a part of your mind noted how the roles had reversed. Two powerful Alpha’s on their knees for you, their little omega. 

“Baby, my god I want you full of us.” She breathed, her eyes meeting yours. “It’s not even the rut talking. I want children with you. I want to watch your belly grow and see you glow.” Her voice was breathless and eyes glassy. 

It truly struck you, almost how desperately they wanted you. How the idea of having a family drove the three of you. A sob broke free from your lips as you fell into Ashton’s embrace, his arms catching you as Kaykay wrapped herself around you. 

“We want it all, sweet omega.” His voice was firm and unrelenting and filled with so much love that part of you felt like it was going to suffocate. 

You were theirs. 

“Your next heat is in a couple of weeks isn’t it?” Ashton questioned carefully and you nodded. 

“No morning after or blockers.” Your heart nearly stopped. 

“Really?” You breathed between your sobs, stunned at his words.

“I think it’s time we worked on our family, don’t you?”

—

The lead up to your heat was one that you anticipated with excitement. But the excitement seemed to draw in those unmated Alpha’s, despite the two glaring marks that screamed you were claimed. Twice you’d called Kaykay before leaving work because an Alpha had lingered around the store when you were closing up. 

The one time you called up Ashton, he sent them scattering. 

They couldn’t blame you for your excitement but after your called Ashton when the unmated Alpha’s weren’t getting the message, they took you to work and picked you up from work without you having to ask. 

But as your heat crept closer barely a day away, you took the day off. Your excitement had already made your scent appealing to your mates and the last thing you needed was a fight breaking out because of it. 

It was the day before that you could smell it and you recognised that both of your Alpha’s were close to their ruts. 

Ashton had left the house for the day to get a food shop done because he knew with their ruts syncing up with your heat, none of you were leaving the house. 

Kaykay had teased about you smelling so good but she knew that you were nervous because their ruts had never synced up with your heat before now. 

“Do you think it’s because we made the active decision to start a family?” Your voice was quiet as your head lay in her lap, her fingers massaging your scalp. You were jelly at the sensation. 

She hummed in return, silence filling the space before finally speaking up. 

“I think it’s that, but your excitement at being bred, little omega, might have a stronger part in it as well. I nearly ripped that other Alpha’s hand off your shoulder the other day. Ashton and I worked out that our ruts were most likely syncing up to your heat which was why I was so angry and possessive.” Your neck still bore the assault she had done that day, the possessive streak having taken over instinct and marked you over, filling you up as she did so. 

Ashton had simply watched, knowing that she’d needed that time to settle her instinct and him encroaching would’ve started a fight that would’ve resulted in you possibly hurt. 

The lethargy that hit you the following morning, didn’t concern any of you. Ashton had hustled you from bed to eat something and Kaykay had switched the sheets around.

It was the waiting game of who broke first. Your heat or their ruts. 

You spent the morning napping, your Alphas going about with their day to day routine until you felt the beads of sweat break across your skin and the desire that had been sitting at a comfortable twenty shot up to one hundred. 

“Alpha.” The word was moaned as you pushed the covers from your body, pulling the clothes off as your skin warmed up. 

When your eyes pulled open, they were stood there, hard as anything and naked. And your fingers gripped the sheets firmly as you whined at them. 

“Please. God, please do something.” Kaykay sauntered first, her knot looking delicious in your eyes but you were needy for something else. 

“What do you want us to do sweet omega?” Kaykay’s words were dripping in honey and it felt like torture until her fingers trailed your skin and you pushed your body into her touch. Ashton chuckled. 

“I want you to fuck me. Fuck me and knot me please.” The whine had her smirking as she settled over you, barely touching your entrance and you whined. 

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do, little omega. Your Alphas are going to ruin you. We’re going to give you so many orgasms till you can’t think straight and then we’re going to breed you like the bitch that you are, so willing and desperate for our cocks.” You moaned in return at her words, her eyes going glassy and it seemed to be an even break as you bared her mark. 

“Please. Please breed me. I want you to fill me, have your pups.” You breathed and you watched as something within Kaykay snapped and she pushed in. 

“Is this what you want little bitch?” You surprised her by flipping the two of you over, her back pressed into the mattress as you began to fuck yourself on her. 

“Tease later, please.” You whimpered and a soothing noise from Ashton as he pressed behind you did wonders for the clawing need that was filling you. 

“You’re already close, little omega. God, your excitement has really pushed this on you.” He breathed and you whined as his fingers moved around you, adding to your build up whilst you fucked yourself on Kaykay. 

The Alpha beneath you allowed this, Ashton’s words ringing a sense of truth. Your excitement in the lead up had pushed your heat practically from zero to one hundred in mere moments. And you were so close. She could feel your legs trembling and walls clamping down on her. 

“Cum little omega. Cum for your Alpha’s.” Your moan at the order as you came, Ashton’s hands firmly holding your waist, keeping you moving, fucking yourself on Kaykay before his tip pressed in and stretched you. 

It felt needy and primal as he set the pace for you, Kaykay fucking up into you as you moaned their names, the second orgasm washing over with no warning and you were slowly losing the capacity to say a word, any word as they kept going, giving you no reprieve. 

You could feel their knots, your mind dimly registering that both of them were close, but you could barely think, another orgasm hitting you before you felt their knots expand, filling you up with their cum. 

Your breathing was laboured as the heat in you seemed to die down, the sensation of feeling so filled with your Alpha’s knots and their cum settling the need to be filled down, the three of you moving so that you and Ashton were lay down. 

Being pressed between your two alphas like this never got boring and the way that Kaykay peppered your face with kisses soothed you. 

“Gonna breed you all week, little omega. You barely pull through to the end of our ruts, but coupled with your heat?” Her groan drew a whimper from your lips. 

“Let our omega rest baby. We’ve got time since we’re not going anywhere.” Ashton’s words cut through and Kaykay pouted but she relented and you snuggled into her, eyes heavy. 

“Rest little omega. We aren’t going anywhere.” She whispered and you felt light kisses on your shoulder as well as your lips as you slipped into a light sleep. 

—

The week itself was overwhelming to say the least. 

You were mated to two possessive Alpha’s and more often than not, you were pressed between them, barely coherent and in unmeasurable amounts of pleasure. 

It took three days after your respective ruts and heat had finished before you could sleep in your bedroom again, the mixed scents of your heat with their ruts sending your head spinning. 

By the time the air had cleared and you were back in your normal room, everything fell back into routine. You went back to work, Ashton continued with his music and Kaykay was off doing shoots every so often.

As the weeks started to go by slipping into months, you lost track of the days, completely forgetting the original reason of your excitement when your previous heat happened. 

So when you came home to both of your Alpha’s waiting for you, confusion flooded you as you accepted Ashton’s open arms invitation, settling yourself on his lap. 

“Sweet little omega,” he began, his voice soothingly sweet, “have you been tracking your heats?” A frown crossed your face as you tried to think back before it hit you. 

You should’ve been in heat last week, but you weren’t. 

“I haven’t. I, I was meant to be in heat last week.” There was a tremble to your voice as the realisation hit you. The only reason why your heats would stop was if you were pregnant. 

“Go with Kaykay, she’s got some tests upstairs for you.” He soothed and she took your hand, pulling you up the stairs. 

Your voice was lost as you followed the instruction of the package and she glanced at the tests which were face down, taking a deep breath. 

“Do you want me here or do you want to come downstairs?” And you were torn. Part of you wanted them both but the other part was hesitant if they came back negative, even if you were so sure of the dates of your heats. 

“Wait with Ash? Please? I need a minute.” And she smiled understandingly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before the soft click of the bathroom door filled the empty space.

You knew you couldn’t completely freak out, your two overprotective Alpha’s wouldn’t let you be alone if you did. But your mind raced with the possible implications, the possible outcomes. 

And then the timer beeped and you could feel your heart thundering. 

You mildly wondered if you were going to be sick from the way your stomach was twisting, but you kept yourself together. 

That was, until you turned the tests around and fell to your knees, shock colouring your face as your emotions surged up, tears falling almost immediately. The two little lines on each test, telling you that your instinct was right and you were pregnant. 

“Oh my god.” The words were breathed out as you stood up on shaky legs, pulling open the door and racing across the landing, your knees weak as you rushed down the stairs. 

They stood, waiting as you flung yourself into Ashton’s arms, a sob escaping from your lips as he pulled you closer to him tightly, your feet lifting off the floor. 

They got the wrong message from the sob, a soothing hand rubbing circles between your shoulders before you could finally find your words

“I’m pregnant.” And when your face pulled back, the tears on your face clear, but the wide grin on your lips spoke otherwise. “We’re having a baby.” The looks of shock on their faces were priceless. 

“Really?” Kaykay whispered and you nodded. 

“Go check!” You urged as you wiped your tears and she was gone as Ashton set you down on your feet. His face was a picture and his hands held your hips tightly. 

“You had us so worried for a second.” He breathed before a squeal interrupted. You could hear Kaykay’s footsteps thundering down the stairs before her arms had you picked up, spinning you around. 

“We’re gonna be parents!” And it seemed to set the trigger for Ashton, a stunned laugh escaping as he finally wrapped his arms around you both. 

“We’re gonna be parents.” He echoed and you smiled, lifting a hand to press against his cheek. He pushed his head closer to your touch, eyes closing as he let out a breath of air. 

“We need to get it confirmed.” Kaykay finally broke the moment and you nodded in agreement. So it was easy work to get an appointment set for the following week and you could feel your heart beating rapidly at the thought of the small life you carried. 

That week was careful for all of you, making sure that you gave nothing away. Your caution was explained to your friends that there’s been some threats this time, which wasn’t untrue, but they’d already been dealt with. But nobody questioned the three of you. 

When the appointment arrived, your excitement was palpable as Ashton drove. You’d received some filthy looks from those who were waiting but they were minimal. You received kinder looks from the pregnant omegas who were with their mates, all in varying stages of pregnancy. 

Part of you mused at some of the kinder looks, it was out of reminiscent memories of when they found out about their own pregnancies. 

Your hands were shaking as the doctor pressed the small wand against your abdomen, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. 

“It’s unsurprising to me, since you’re mated to two clearly strong Alpha’s. But congratulations to all of you, because you’re having twins.” You could’ve sworn your heart stopped. 

When you were back out in the waiting room, Ashton booking the next appointment, you could only stare at Kaykay in awe. 

“Twins.” You whispered in shock and she beamed. 

“This might be a running theme if both of us breed you, little omega.” Her voice was teasing but you felt flustered at the thought of them filing you like they had. 

It was any wonder you didn’t carry four babies instead of two. 

“Right, next appointment is booked. Let’s go home and celebrate with some ice cream and renovation plans.” The joy in his voice made your heart melt as you pulled him in for a kiss, doing the same to Kaykay before allowing your amused Alpha’s to guide you from the building. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Ashton’s tone was tinged with amusement and curiosity. 

“I get to share this with you both. Can I not kiss my mates because I want to?” And a soft smile settles on his lips as he pulled you in for your own, his lips searching out Kaykay’s moments later. 

“Can’t wait to do this with both of you. Our sweet little omega giving us the perfect family we want.” The grin you wore for the rest of the day would have surely powered LA alone, it was that bright

It was the next step forward and you couldn’t wait.

-

if you wanna be added to the specific poly!kayshton taglist just hmu

@sexgodashton​, @loveroflrh​, @calumsmermaid​, @cashtonasfuck​, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​, @iovehemmings​, @wokeupinjapanisabop​, @converse-luke​, @itjustkindahappenedreally​, @tobefalling​, @cal-puddies​, @queer-5sos​, @hemmingsmendess​, 

[hvlfwygod]

know your strength, part 2 | patrick & ben

tw: idk it’s a little intense

June 20

When he opened the door, his father was on the other side.

Very creative, he thought, or said. So the dream skipped a few minutes and got right to the point. Despite himself, his heart started beating faster, faster, and he closed his eyes, but this was a nightmare so he saw it all happening anyway.

I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, he said, or thought, just as the door slammed in his face again and the dark started to suffocate him. Whatever you want, I’m not doing it.

I’m just happy to know you’re stuck here. The voice sounded muffled, far away, and then footsteps retreated, leaving him there.

His heart was still racing when he woke up.

—

A small canvas, coated in blacks, grays, browns. Dark reds. Jagged bursts of white.

His stomach curled, threatening to eat itself.

His head hurt, hurt, hurt. 

The figure in the doorway stood like a menace, face blurred because his fingers would not stop trembling. 

Patrick hadn’t slept so much in months, and the inspiration was spilling out of him. He woke up in the middle of the night and finally knew how to finish the painting. His throat burned, he wanted to be high and far away, anchored only by his frenetic brushstrokes. This scene was not his mind, but it was shaped like his nonetheless. All quaking lines and consuming shadows. It was hungry and aching, just like him.

His leg bounced, shaking his easel.

He felt like shit.

But he was nearly done. Withdrawal was a bitch and lasting long, long, but he’d be out of the woods soon. Soon. Focusing on creating let him shut out the rest.

June 21

Constant nightmares were not new to him. He could handle them, especially since he knew why they were happening. There was no monster waiting for him when he closed his eyes.

Still.

He knew how to function on little to no sleep. And he’d started napping, snatching a few hours of peaceful, quiet rest.

Still.

He was sure that the point was to break him. Make him tell someone, or beg for it to stop, or grovel and apologize. He wouldn’t. He could endure more than most.

Still. Still. Still.

Ben kept waiting for his mother to come, but she must have had better things to do.

June 22

When the painting was done, he set it to dry, then scoured his kitchen. Left his roommate a sloppy apology note. Ate until the hunger pangs stopped. 

His head was clearer now, and he thought about his knife.

Patrick would never tire of his nightmares. He reveled in them, came alive when he had them. He’d never stop relying on them first, always.

Still, a push might be nice.

Hence the painting. And the knife. (An impulsive purchase, back when he could make those.)

He hadn’t really had a plan when he started this. All he wanted to do at first was attack, to indulge his powers. But now that days had circled by and Patrick had circled deeper into a hellish sobriety, he wanted more. He wanted to see Ben’s face.

Patrick found it on his shelves. He watched the blade spill into shape, roll back, spill again. Roll back, again. Spill.

He really felt like shit.

Patrick hadn’t slept so much in months, but he slept anyway, because the other option was to think and think and think and think about little pills, little tabs, little piles of powder.

—

Ben didn’t try unpinning himself from under the beast— he knew in this version of events no one came to save him. But he did look it in the face. How much longer until you get bored?

Never, it answered, showing off its teeth. Are you? I can make things worse. I love a challenge.

Ben felt the ground move. A hand emerged from underneath him and rested on his forehead. It pulled him down, down. He didn’t flinch, even as his chest tightened up. Whatever you do, it won’t work.

The monster made a low, growling noise, but it sounded amused. It will work on someone else, I’m sure. You have a roommate? I noticed on my walk in.

Ben did not answer, which felt like a defeat. Another hand snaked around his arm, his leg, hugged his torso from below. Because this was a nightmare he knew he was going somewhere worse. The beast hummed again, the noise huge and deep.

I won’t, I won’t. As long as you meet me tomorrow. I have a gift for you.

June 23

For how excited he was, it was hard to get out of bed. His head felt as though it was trying to detach itself from his body.

Patrick felt almost delirious from the pain exploding out of his skull. Had withdrawal been this bad last time?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He found something that resembled a painkiller, drank water straight from the faucet. He felt like complete shit, but it didn’t matter. He had somewhere to be.

—

Every morning since this started, he woke up angry. Today was no different.

Ben considered the candle, still in the same place on his dresser. Unlit, and no offering beside it.

He was in no mood to cook.

There were no instructions on where to meet, so he just went to the same place as before. He bought another coffee, sat at a bench, and waited.

Something approached him that was tall and gaunt and resembling a human that hadn’t slept in days. Ben confirmed after a few frantic blinks that it wasn’t a ghost. His shoulders relaxed.

He had about three seconds of relief before his shoulders tensed up again. Ben had no time to get up, so he pressed himself back into the bench. “Are you fucking crazy?”

There was a knife in Patrick’s hand. It was oddly shaped, and the blade was black and slick like an oil spill. Ben’s eyes didn’t move from the sharpened point, because he wasn’t sure where it would go once he looked away.

“Oh, relax,” Patrick scoffed. Ben watched the knife get lifted, and the blade slide into its hilt, defying all that he knew about knives and the laws of physics. “Of course you assume I’m going there. Fucking scumbag.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Ben asked. Cautiously, he glanced up to Patrick’s face. The man looked very, very sick, and equal parts smug.

Instead of answering, Patrick presented the object in his other hand. Ben had been so focused on the weapon he hadn’t even noticed the painting until it was in his lap.

His father glowered back at him. He stood in the doorway to Ben’s old room, body slightly turned. Clothing rumpled. One arm hung down, hand curled around a bottle. The other was gently bent at the elbow. He was pointing, just firmly enough to be menacing. Clothes scattered the room, his bed just peeked into view, mostly eaten by shadow. His father was mid-sentence. His face drooped into its scowl, as if his muscles has learned to settle into that expression.

The lines were shaky, but it was so perfectly him.

Ben poured his coffee all over it.

Patrick was laughing, but Ben heard it at a slight delay. He could barely see anything besides his father’s painted face, warping.

Aw, you don’t like it? Ben realized Patrick was talking. “But I worked so hard! I guess I’ll try to do better next time. Don’t worry, Prius, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Ben was so mad he couldn’t speak. His heartbeat shook his entire frame. His teeth practically chattered as he tried and failed and tried and failed to respond.

“How d—”

“How dare I?” Patrick interrupted. Suddenly, he was in Ben’s face, and Ben jerked away. Another laugh, but he couldn’t hear it at all.

Sometimes anger was like a living thing.

—

Something was wrong. The headache hadn’t subsided. In fact, it’d only gotten worse since leaving his house.

Ben was unresponsive. Patrick’s skull was spitting open. Something was wrong. The wrongness needled at him. He was almost nauseous, but stubbornly he refused to stop smiling.

“Prius? Oh, poor guy, did I upset you? Good.” He sneered as he grabbed Ben’s face, forced him to look up from the ruined painting, now on the ground. The man flinched, but not out of fear. He couldn’t describe it, but the distinction was obvious. Ben was returning to this reality, and he was pissed.

Plus, his eyes were all wrong.

“You’ve had it too good for a killer, Ben,” Patrick sneered. His knife was close; maybe unneeded, considering the response the painting had caused. But he’d come this far, and the guy deserved it. So he held it up, pressed it to Ben’s cheek, pulled it down.

It didn’t draw blood, not really. It was more interesting than that. His knife was an extension of his powers, and it harmed accordingly. Something inky and unkind sank into Ben’s skin. In the same instant, his screamed. He curled over, hands flying to the mark. Patrick backed away, watching with a bright, hungry interest. For as much as he loved his nightmares, there was a sick satisfaction with seeing the fear in person.

Ben had said he was immune. Patrick had called bullshit, and he was right. He reveled in that.

Then, his head exploded.

—

Ben hoped that Patrick felt every second of his nightmares. Every single, terrible second of this. This unrelenting terror, this mind-bending fear, fear, fear. This free fall into the worst of his memories. He hoped Patrick felt it all, tenfold.

No, twenty fold.

Feel it. Physically, terribly feel it.

His mind scrambled to steady itself. He came to just as Patrick was passing out.

And then, he left again, this time with his mother. Ben could barely tell up from down; all he knew is that she was just as angry.

—

For a split second, Patrick thought he died.

He pushed himself upright. Instead of Ben, Morpheus sat across from him. They weren’t in New Athens anymore. If he had to guess, Patrick would say his dad brought him inside a cloud.

“How do you feel?”

Patrick scowled. “Good to see you, too.”

Morpheus sighed. “Kiddo, what’s going on?”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” Patrick snapped at him. “Nice of you to show up after I figure out my powers. Really convenient.”

“Did you want me to leave you on the sidewalk?” Morpheus looked genuinely confused. Patrick just scoffed. The god sighed again. “I am glad your dreams are back, son.”

“Don’t mock me. You gonna take them away again?”

Another look of confusion. Morpheus tilted his head. “I didn’t take them away.”

Patrick frowned at him. “Then why—”

“Patrick, come on. You just needed to sober up.”

All this time. Patrick stared at Morpheus. “Bullshit.”

“I don’t deal in bullshit.”

“Ugh.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “No one says that.”

Morpheus shrugged. “I’m a god, I don’t need to keep up.”

“Whatever.” Something about this conversation was deeply humiliating. Patrick turned away. “Thanks for the help, I guess.”

“You didn’t answer me. How do you feel?”

He paused, thought about it seriously. “My head feels better. I feel, okay.”

“Good.” Another stretch of quiet. “I love how you use your powers. But be responsible, please.” When Patrick didn’t respond, there was another, longer sigh.

He reemerged in his bed. At his side was a few bills and a bottle of water. A little note that read: say no to drugs -M

—

“What are you thinking?”

Nemesis was raging. Ben stood in a parking lot in Canada, shaking.

“This is what you use your power for, Ben? A petty fight?”

Ben sucked in a breath. “I didn’t—”

“You cursed him days ago—”

“I didn’t know.”

“That is no excuse! You cursed him then, and then again just now! You could have killed him!”

“I don’t know what to do.” Ben was crying, all at once. Everything crashed on top of him, all at once. “Sorry, can you give me a minute?”

She gave him six, since that was how long he needed before he could speak again.

Slowly, he wiped his face with his palms. “How do I control it? Why didn’t you come earlier?”

“You need to figure this out. Your power is triggered by anger. You cannot let it consume you like this.”

“I don’t want it to,” he argued, but weakly. His eyes burned. “That was what he did, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be like that.”

“Don’t think about him. This is about you, Ben.”

“Mom, what do I do?” He looked up at her. “People hate me, they’re out to get me, and I can’t even blame them, but I still did this. I want to stand up for myself without—” He shook his head. “I can’t keep doing this. Please help me not do this.” He was shivering, cold to his bones.

Nemesis was quiet. Then she placed a hand on Ben’s head. “I will try to guide you, Ben. But this is still your responsibility.”

It was a kinder response than he expected. Ben felt like crying again. He closed his eyes. For the first time that week, he felt as tired as he should be. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in town. The sun was bright, the painting gone. Patrick, too, was nowhere to be seen.

He took a deep breath.

Ben put his head in his hands for a while, then he stood. He needed to go home. He needed to lay in bed for the rest of his life, but just the rest of the day would have to do.

[be-dazzled]

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive language and content

It gives me sweet little pains in my heart Like a sweet little rain, that falls for a flower And that's love A new kind of love

–       A New Kind of Love, Skylar Grey

The sun had already set when the little party ended at the Home for Boys. The day ended with hugs and high fives, some ugly cries too – from the big guys, not the kids. The team promised to be back the next year. Even with that promise, goodbyes weren’t really that easy. Juvia had to comfort a sobbing Mika all the way to the presidential car. She said it never gets easier.

After a laughter-filled dinner and teasing, Gray invited Juvia to walk off the carbs. He took her to the back part of the house, to the most beautiful flower-filled garden Juvia has ever seen.

Mika Mine hand-grown the flowers in her garden. She started with just some dark pink Geraniums she liked sitting around the house. Not until she found that large blank canvass behind her mansion that the Mine matriarch eventually developed a certain fondness getting her hands dirty, waking up early to water them and most of the time, talk to her plants. She said it was therapeutic, helping her cope with the stress. Gray uneasily admitted he was almost always the reason for her stress. So, her mother named that garden after him.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Juvia was sure Mika Mine’s garden would have been very beautiful under the brightest shine of the sun. She took a note to come visit the “Stressful Gray Garden” in the morning. Tonight, she took the time appreciating the living attraction in the silence of the evening. It was simply magical.

Illuminated by natural moonlight, Gray and Juvia covered the narrow pathway, bathed in cold breeze and silver light. On either side of the pathway were beautiful, fully bloomed flowers on trimmed shrubs. But they cleared the path that led somewhere more beautiful, as Gray promised.

“More beautiful than these flowers borne out of the stress you caused?”

Juvia looked around the backyard garden. Mika Mine outdid herself. Or Gray was just a stressful fellow to raise. Page Six did a good retelling of how Gray painted the town red. Looking around the fully bloomed buds around the ‘stress garden’, Juvia had a feeling she didn’t know the half of it. Different kinds and colors scattered around, giving life to Mika’s green-thumb project, like fresh from a Monet painting. If Olivia Lockser saw this, she would have begged Gray’s mother to become best of friends or maybe died of jealousy. That’s a thought.

“Yes. But not as beautiful as my girlfriend.”

Gray pulled her to a stop. As a gentleman who had his fair share of women, Gray knew that off-hand ‘more beautiful’ comment would read as ‘even than your girlfriend?’ He crossed the small distance between them and got himself that kiss that he’d been waiting for. It was just a brief brush of the lips, like a kiss shared in children’s books, at the end of the story, when the prince and the princess lived happily ever after. One innocent kiss like that came so naturally.

Juvia wiped the stain of lipstick that transferred on Gray’s lips. Then, she took his hand, taking the lead this time. They walked down the narrow path, side by side. Her small hand was clasped in his bigger one, her slender fingers intertwined with Gray’s. She leaned on Gray every now and then, wanting and needing the contact. They exchanged stories here and there, talking about nothing much really, until they reached the end of the paved path and a silhouette of a familiar structure emerged.

“That, girlfriend, is my favorite part of this house.”

The ground they stood on was abruptly cut by a grassy, shallow slope, right before the rectangular pavement began. Gray guided the ballerina down the sloping garden, watchful over Juvia who was trying not to lose her footing, and held her hand as he ushered Juvia onto the flat surface.

“Stay here.”

Gray’s absence was quickly missed. It made the breeze feel colder against the skin. Juvia enveloped her arms around her own frame to fight the chill. Her eyes never left the figure jogging towards a shed. Even through the dimness, Juvia saw Gray pushing a lever. The light coming from the lamp posts standing at each corner flooded the playing surface. In the floodlit view, Juvia could make out the unmistaken round hoop attached to the backboard; the rectangular pavement bordered by freshly cut-grass. Juvia knew enough about basketball to recognize the lines painted on the pavement. Although, it did seem to have seen better days. There were obvious wear and tear, a few repairs here and there. When the mansion decided to move forward, that particular part of the house was left behind.

She lost Gray for a moment, not finding him where has just a minute ago. Next thing she knew, her boyfriend was standing next to a covered cart near the stone bench. He peeled off the cover, bent over to pick one ball out. Gray remained standing, feeling the rubber skin in his palms, taking his time, like some sort of ritual. He then waved his girlfriend to come.

Juvia crossed the paved court, her purposeful steps synced with the bounce of the ball in Gray’s hand. But instead of running toward the ring to show off a perfect shot, as Juvia expected, Gray replaced the ball inside the cart. He met her half-way and led Juvia to rest at the stone bench.

“Man, I spent most of my childhood here.” shared Gray. He turned to Juvia, who remained quiet, and held her gaze. “This is where everything began, you know.” The usual confidence in Gray’s smile was hidden safe for the time being.

Gray left her side and covered the pavement with sprints toward the middle of the court. His absence allowed the breeze to touch on her exposed skin, penetrating through the fabric of her clothes.

“My first shot.” He dribbled an imaginary ball and pretended to shoot the same, flicking his wrist like the pro that he was. Juvia imagined the ball went in perfectly and she clapped, humoring him with his ‘play pretend’ game. Then, Gray scampered over to much nearer the ring, executing the familiar two-step footwork before he jumped off his left foot and shoot with his left arm. The ball would have hit the backboard and went into the hoop without miss.

“My first lay-up.” He made a quick chuckle. “It wasn’t a good one. That I admit.”

Gray dashed back to the center, the tip of one shoe nearly touching the white paint which Juvia recognized as the three-point line. Hoopster had his proper posture down to a T: with feet shoulder-width apart; his dominant foot ahead the other; knees bent at the perfect angle; his toned body and shoulders squared toward the basket. His dark blue eyes were unrelenting, drilling a hole on his target. Juvia has seen it far too many times, but every time Gray fell into that stance, her heart skipped a beat. Like any minute now, something magical was about to happen. That’s how he always made her feel. Gray held the ball above his head, elbows bent in the perfect degree, then he snapped his wrist, ending his signature three-point shot with a perfect follow through. Juvia was back at the lower box of the Fairy Academy Dome, her heart in her throat as she and the rest of the roughly six hundred basketball fans waited at the edge of their seats.

His sharp blue eyes, now staring at Juvia’s mesmerized ones, pulled the ballerina out of her reverie. He resumed his rightful spot next to her at the stone bench, drawing a long, slow breath. That little prancing around the court didn’t tire him out. Gray didn’t even break a sweat but showing off to his girlfriend did exercise his lungs.

“My dad always said, ‘Gray… if you. Want to set yourself apart from the others, you need a signature’. He decided, right there and then, that three-point shots would be mine.” He relayed to Juvia. “He trained me day and night until I perfected that shot.” Those perfect three point shots that eventually earned him his nickname.

To Juvia, it sounded like the Fullbuster patriarch was a believer of putting in the time. She knew now where Gray got his hard-working disposition. She believed in that too… nothing of value was ever borne out if taking it easy. Juvia believed in the hustle, too. His father may have had all the connections to make her dream a reality sooner but Juvia was never one to want everything handed to her.

“Or passed out, whichever came first.”

He tried to play it off as a joke but Juvia could see no humor in Gray’s eyes nor that forced smile – because he was talking about his father. Once, when they were just starting to get along, Silver’s name was mentioned in passing. Juvia remembered how his expression turned serious and how Gray quickly changed the subject. It was obvious back then that it was a touchy subject, one Gray would rather not talk about. Ironic, considering how Gray was considered an open book, his tales of gallivanting making headlines. But Juvia understood, that topic was too personal for Gray. This was the first time that the elusive Hoopster was the first to mention Silver Fullbuster to her, which only meant one thing – he trusted her. She knew better than laugh. Juvia sought his hands, took them in hers and giving them a gentle squeeze – one that told him that she was there. This time, she was going to be there for him, like how he was always there for her. It was Juvia’s chance to show Gray that she was going to be the one he could rely on; the one he could trust with his heart. If she could, Juvia would have eased the pain she knew was still there. A big chunk of Gray’s heart was still missing. But there wasn’t much she could do but to lend an ear. Her soft gaze told him she was ready to listen.

Gray heaved out another breath, preparing himself for the outpour.

“I miss him every day, you know. He was my best friend.”

Gray wasn’t looking at Juvia. He was staring at somewhere at the court, remembering. A bittersweet smile touched his lips, eyes looking out at the empty court as if he was watching the figures play on the paved ground – Silver and an eight-year-old Gray.

“He trained me in this very ground. Sometimes, we’d just play around all day until mom calls us for dinner.”

When Gray turned to the quiet ballerina, his eyes were different. The soul behind them was different. He was showing another side of him, one Juvia has yet to see. They said the eyes were the windows to the soul; that they held the truest, most genuine emotions. Tonight, those windows held his vulnerability.

“He wasn’t just my coach, my strict trainer. He was my dad.”

Juvia knew she was only an audience, merely a listener. She didn’t say a word and continued to listen even through the shy moments of silence that filled the in-betweens. A few strands of black hair fell over his forehead. Juvia brushed it away from his face, tucking them back to that shock of coal-black hair.

“What I am now is all because of him.”

Honor and gratitude equally shone through his dark eyes. But there was another one hiding behind that shine – loss. He lost his father. The tears he was holding back was for that important person taken from him far too soon. Juvia knew of the pain of losing someone she loved but she could never fully understand what Gray went through, still going through. It was something that sticks with us no matter what happens.

“When I was in my senior year, my school was up for a championship in the regionals. He stayed behind because he wasn’t feeling well. That was a first for him because he was always present to all my games.”

It’s been more than a decade but the memory was as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

“The neighbors called my mom. They said dad was… my dad was on the way to the hospital. He had a heart attack.”

His last words felt like a silent whisper lost in the soft gust of wind.

“She hid it from me. My mom waited until I finished the tournament. And when I got there… when I got to the hospital,” Gray shifted in his position, his strong jaw tightening at the memory, at the long-forgotten anger that resurfaced. He faced Juvia, finally letting her see that side of him he never wanted to show people. And she saw the tears in his eyes that he tried to hold back. “It was too late. He was there, lying on the hospital bed. His doctor just…covered him in that… in that white sheet.”

He brushed away the tear that managed to fall and for some reason, an awkward chuckle erupted from him.

“I don’t even know why I’m still crying over it.” He said, harshly wiping the tears with his bare palm.

“It never really goes away.” offered Juvia.

“For years I’ve blamed my mother. I blamed her because I couldn’t even properly say goodbye. Then, basketball.” Gray huffed. “God, I hated basketball.”

Juvia remembered that silent, blank space in his career. When he graduated from High School, everybody expected Gray to be the first to be picked out for the draft season. No one ever heard from him since the news of his dad’s passing.

“I should have stayed, you know. I should have been there for him.”

Regret clouded his dark blue eyes like an unkind storm rolling in.

“It isn’t your fault, Gray.”

Gray visibly gulped.

“I know that. But for so long I’ve been so angry at everyone around me.” He struggled to bit back the sob. “If I hadn’t met Natsu at that orphanage, I would have never went back to basketball.”

“Is that why the Home was so important to you?”

His only answer was a gentle smile followed by a stretch of silence. Juvia thought Gray didn’t want to continue but he did.

“I realized, basketball was only way I can feel closer to him. When I touch that rubber ball, the rough texture of its skin, the smell of the rubber, the beat when it hits the floor, suddenly, I was back here.” He didn’t need to point to the open space. “In this court, with my dad, teaching me how to properly hold my first ball.”

He gave her a small smile, a result of a mixed feeling of gratitude and regret.

“That’s why I can never hate basketball ever again.” He expelled a breath that felt like a finality, like an end. The worst part was over. “Why are you crying?”

Juvia laughed it off, looking like some crazy woman as she frantically rubbed her eyes. She told Gray she didn’t even know why. That wasn’t true. Juvia was crying for him, for all the bad things he went through and for all the good things that came after. She couldn’t feel more proud of him, of how Gray overcame that painful moment in his life. Not all could recover from that loss. But Gray was strong. A warm feeling swelled up in her chest. Juvia was grateful he was able to overcome his rock bottom. Now, he was on top of the world.

Gray reached to Juvia, cradled her wet cheeks between his palms. She leaned into the warmth of his hands. Juvia wished she could be there for him back then, to help him go. Through that darkness. That’s all in the past. All she could do was be here for him now.

“Look at us crying like idiots.”

They made a shared attempt to laugh. Then, Gray gathered her in his arms, lending his girlfriend heat against the night chill. But more so, feeling sorry for having Juvia go through all of that. Yet he was grateful to be able to get it off his chest. It wasn’t easy to be so out into the open, to even admit to any weakness. In his world, in basketball, there was no room for weakness. But even if he covered himself of layers and layers of defenses, at the very core he was still vulnerable. When he saw Juvia struggle through her dance albeit being a professional, seeing the stern, no-nonsense ballerina he first met being bothered by the small things as performance jitters or her paralyzing adoration for Aquarius, Gray realized that he didn’t have to keep up appearances all the time. That he could just be him – flawed and human.

Hoopster rested Juvia’s head against his chest, gently stroking waves of her long, silky hair while Juvia listened to his heart’s every beat.

“Man, after all the ugly crying, you still think your boyfriend is cool?”

He used to think that his pain was his weakness. It did almost ruin his career and his future once. He was never going to let that happen. He was never going to let his emotions get the better of him. So, Gray went through all those superficial relationships, if he could even call them that, and worldly fun, albeit fleeting. But now he decided it was time to break down the wall. He was ready to allow himself be vulnerable.

“Much cooler.” answered Juvia as she snuggled into his hard chest. “Much, much cooler.”

Because now he wasn’t just some fantasy Gray Fullbuster that was perfect at everything. He was real.

---

Writer’s Corner: Allowing yourself be vulnerable in front of that person you love, I don’t think it can get any realer than that. As promised, this is a double chapter posting since, as you noticed, this chapter is a little short.

P.S. We got a new design because we are entering a new age.

tags: @ship-ambrosia @juviaafullbuster @keencreatormuggoop @sasskiiia @anaken101 @mika-milano @icelyn20 @gruviafanficsyo @nay-ssi @shampooneko @hiccstridhumour @shounenmangaotphell @ftmains @sobatsu @freeezingrain @gruvia-galaxy @tinyvoidtrash @juvialockseroff @jetblackrevival @cobblepottantrum

[muesliforbreakfast]

Fabian Tactics

Part 1?

This one got a bit of traction on the sub, but is actually more of a salvage job of stuff I’ve had written down for YEARS but couldn’t get to work.

What are they running? Picture the Frontier Buccaneers by Johnsonting except with like a thick mesh cape type thing, and the rifle looks kinda like an RM277.

This doesn’t really matter, but I did a bunch of worldbuilding I’ll probably never get to use :’(

On an unrelated note - Look at this one by the same artist. If this dude had an EF88 I would actually lose my shit.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cadet Ralek was the only one in his company behaving himself before the lecture. He came from a military family. Growing up he was steeped in discipline and tradition. But that wasn't his only reason for attentiveness. This weeks modules were focused on counterinsurgency, and todays lecture on the greatest insurgency of all, on that Ralek's uncle had been on the losing side of nearly two hundred years before. The Terran insurgency.

“HOLD FAST!” An NCO called, at the front of the lecture theater. The hall, full of chattering cadets fell silent as they all braced their upper limbs on their desks, whilst some officers went through their rituals, transferring command of the cadets over to the officer, who introduced himself.

“I am Second Lieutenant Orion, of the Federation Marine Corps. As part of today's module we have a very special presenter – Corporal Felix, of the Terran Heer.”

The class perked up at that – Terrans no longer had an army of their own; they hadn't had one for one hundred and seventy four years. The exact date that every race had been accepted into the Galactic Federation had been drilled into each and every one of them. They watched as an old, frail man was wheeled into the lecture theatre, ashy, paper thin skin hanging from his face. Civilian clothes in the Terran style, with several medals pinned on the left of his chest.

O1 Orion bowed politely and they whispered to each other. Then he pinned a microphone to Felix' lapel. He began to speak, with the thin, frail voice of a man nearing the end of his twilight years.

“Good evening cadets. I'm getting straight to the point because there's just one thing the Armed Forces of the Federation want you to learn from me. And because I want to deliver it to you. Before I drop dead.” The old man struggled to get enough air between his words.

The class laughed nervously. The old man gathered his strength, eyes closed, breathing slowly.

“We Terrans had inferior numbers and technology, and we were fighting a war of extermination, but we still beat the Empire. How did we do it? You.” Felix pointed at a cadet in the fourth row, with a bony, wavering finger. A Kelress, who looked like a four foot red panda.

“Sir, because humans are physically tough and aggressive apex predators, sir.”

Only the Ji Te who were in the theatre laughed at that. Only some of them. And only a little.

“Don't fucking swear at me, cadet. I'm a corporal, and I'm retired,” The whole class giggled that time, “You. You think that's funny. What do you think?” He said, as his frail finger pointed at one of the closer Ji Te, a hulking reptiloid in the second row.

“Because humans are sly, intelligent and patient, mister Felix. Your kind came up with tactics we simply couldn't counter. Over time frames we didn't anticipate.

“You could and you duh...did, cadet....... The empire was fighting a war of extermination; they blocked out our sun. And it only took us three years.”

The class had no answers to that. Felix pointed at another of the Isae in the room.

“You. Have you got answers for me?”

“I agree with the other cadets, Mister. But I would like to add, humans are willing to do anything to survive. Uh. Mister Felix,” The Isae replied.

“Mmmmm... A better answer. Maybe I should ask someone who knows,” The old man pointed at one of the Terran cadets scattered throughout the lecture theater, “You, young lady. What do you think?”

“Mister Felix,” she began, “In guerilla warfare and insurgency operations, all you need to win is to not lose. Classic Fabian tactics that go as far back as the Punic wars. Classic Maoist tactics of the 20th century. Deny the enemy resources and deny them battle unless it's at a time and place of your choosing. As long as someone survives, you haven't lost. Mister Felix.” The old retired corporal seemed to relax somewhat. He paused for a long while. His threat of dropping dead seemed like less of a joke by the minute.

“Straight from the pam. Good drills cadet.” He finally said, before pausing again.

“I was barely nineteen when the empire invaded. I was fresh out of basic training when the sun shield went up... I was lucky... I was evacuated by arkship less than a year later. By then we had been on less than starvation rations for months.”

The class exchanged looks. They were all thinking of the human reputation.

“What do we taste like?” Cadet Ralek couldn't help but ask.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Private Felix' section was running Personal Radios and Line of Sight communicators but for now they were doing it old school. Hand signals. They were patrolling their sunless planet, towards the location where the latest enemy incursion had been reported. As point man he was the first to see the glow of the enemy in the distance.

>Take cover

>Enemy contact front

>Enemy Squad 8-2-0m North North East

>Come here

His squad slowly lowered themselves to cover, and his squad leader made his way over to him.

“What do you see?”

“One of those wide slow walkers, being protected by a team of hunter-killers, I count 9. They're using spotlights and floodlights, they may not have optics.”

“They might have a team on overwatch that does”

“What do you think they're doing?”

“Science or harvesting, or drawing attention...” His section commander paused for a moment, “This kind of walker goes back to their smaller bases with a load, drops it off then leaves again... Stay here on overwatch, radio silence. Wait out for further instructions.”

His squad leader flashed hand signals, and left two of his squadmates with him, while they watched and waited.

Around half an hour later they had their orders.

Recon. Then kill them all, destroy the walker. Booby trap the bodies, hide and observe. Develop the situation.

His section commander flashed the hand signals for their orders. The squad took their positions across the walker and they awaited the signal.

A purple beam silently lanced from the squad commander's Modular Infantry Laser Rifle; the beam both squealed and thudded as it burst through one of the hunter-killer robot's bodies. The robot had barely begun to fall when each of the squad members rifle also lanced a robot body with their own beams. The robot corpses clattered and rattled lifelessly to the ground. The squad's aim then played across the legs of the walker where they attached to its thorax. It dropped to the ground with a prolonged thud, and then silence aside from the hydraulics within the walker trying in vain to move its legs. The squad took an all round defensive position around the area while the squad commander finished off the walker, his rifle punching a hole through the side for him to throw a plasma-grenade into. That done, they placed trip bombs under the HK bodies, accounted for everyone then moved off to their predetermined form up point less than half a kilometer away.

The whine of a dropship's engines steadily increased in volume over their whispers – the HK team's backup had arrived, in the form of another sixteen HK's, one of the nine foot tall crocs and a twelve foot tall mechsuit. The croc and the mechsuit was a lot of firepower. The squad quietly deployed from their form up point, crawling low and slow through the withered scrub towards the site of their previous victory. It had become easy to move quietly in the sunless dirt with the plants long dead. Their Matte Adaptive Camouflage absorbed a variable amount of light from the EM spectrum, from low energy IR to high energy UV. On their sunless planet, they were basically invisible.

A sharp crack filled the dark, and the croc dropped to the ground, briefly flailing in the dirt.

<honorless/shameless><brutes/thugs> have trapped bodies leave bodies be, take positions, bring <leaders>

The HK team had positioned itself in a perimiter around the fallen walker, the mech-suit stood lifelessly by it, and a pair of the three foot slugs were sliding towards the wreckage. One began to cut into the side of the walker with a plasma torch, while the other examined the legs that had been sheared off by laser beams. Not even the robots attended to the croc, which seemed to have bled out.

Felix looked to his squadmates and commander for orders.

>Squad rifles target HK's on my signal fire at will

>Squad heavy weapons target Mech on my signal three high impact rounds

>Extended File 10m spacing

Felix took his position in the formation and they began to close in on the invaders.

The squad commander's beam lanced out across the battlefield, scorching a hole through a robot body, and the squad unleashed a controlled burst of hellfire. In less than four seconds the hunter-killer team had been annihilated. Four seconds after that the mech-suit had been shorn it half at the waist by repeated high impact lasers.

The squad closed in on their hapless victims.

“Felix! Ballistic rounds on the slugs, fire at will! Heavy Weapons! Peel that Mech, kill the pilot! Alpha! Suppress! Bravo! Security!” The Squad commander was yelling now.

“Ten four!” He acknowledged his order, then drew his vintage Browning GP-35 as he closed in on the invaders.

mercy <owner/master/ruler> mercy let me live mercy

His universal translator filled his helmet with the slug's pleas for mercy. He sauntered to their cowering forms, their desperate clicking and screeching audible over the translation of their words.

He pumped three rounds into each.

“We eat tonight.”

At the mech, his squad had used their lasrifles to shear off the mechs arms and an ablative armour panel. A feeble, raccoon like creature about four feet tall had sprayed out the viewport with its small kinetic machine gun, but Zahn had responded with a short squirt of pepper spray. When the spray of kinetic fire stopped he simply reached in and dragged it out by the throat, its soft velvet fur ripped out through its ruined uniform as it raked past the broken viewport. Its screeching and whining unintelligible even to the universal translators. He drew his clearing knife and sliced across its throat, before driving its head against a corner of the broken mech once. Then twice. It fell limp, as if deflated, with the last sound it heard being Zahn's voice echoing into the dark “We eat tonight!!”

The Squad regrouped at the edge of a re-entrant, in the shallow valley the walker had been traversing.

The Commander quietly addressed the squad.

“I've called it in – we won't be rationed in for another week. Their reinforcements will be here within two hours, probably less, so we need to hustle. Zahn, Vorhut, store the badger and slugs. Forget the croc it's ruined.” The members of the squad fell out as they received their orders. “Kaiser, Ulan, Water and ammo. Felix, Erik. One AA mine and AP mines on that ridge there. The rest of you all round security. Ten minutes, Then we move.”

Felix and Erik both clambered up the hill with a sense of urgency, uncomfortably warm in their heat and light absorbing camouflage armour, despite the temperature being close to zero. They both hadn't eaten in days. Despite the bitter, earthy taste and the slimy, gelatinous yet tough texture, Felix was looking forward to his share of slug.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You Isae taste absolutely vuh... vile...” He stammered out, then pointed at the Ji Te, “But you... You taste like salmon.”

[beatnicksellar]

Marda Loophole: TPB: Issues #7-12

Issue #7 – The Exodus Then: Mada opened her eyes to the inhuman sights and sounds of war Half-men strewn about Bramshott the RCAMC tent soaked in red gore Through the horror she saw her scarecrow the one she treated before Minus a leg he was alive and that was enough to lift her off of the floor Now: Mada opens her eyes to the fuzzy sight of 4 purple children overhead Siphoning energy from a radiant boulder their chant stirs her from the dead A tingle in her toes and sour taste in her mouth the Hole is as Dennis said He labours nearby as the kids stitch Mada together with amethyst thread With the dulling drone done the rock bathes everyone in its immortal hue The old wendigo’s cell unlocks in the uproar allowing her to slip through Before Mada’s blurry eyes the frailest child’s torn from the circuit and slew She can hear the rapacious wendigo sob as she reluctantly continues to chew The plaster walls of the outbuilding begin to buckle from the stone’s potency Suddenly Pope enters the Hole and descends the staircase with much urgency The doctor’s met mid-way by the limping wendigo who embraces him completely Mesmerising him with her wildfire eyes she gladly detaches his loins from his body Dennis returns to find the Hole in shambles with Dot eaten and Dr. Pope screaming He disconnects the kids and requests that Mada give the boys’ lives a new meaning One of the boys grabs a ledger while the other two grip Mada and they begin fleeing Dennis and the wendigo clash by the emitting mound soon buried under the ceiling South Calgary is silent for the first time since the 33 soldiers were secretly dosed But without the hum to calm them they thrashed 33 Avenue like a whipping post Possessed troops overturned the streetcar and chard the theater like it was toast Stiff pedestrians and sate scavengers guide Mada back to her husband Marc’s ghost She mourns over his blood-spattered prosthesis as one boy reads a shard of glass His brothers study the ledger as he peers into the sliver to see what’ll comes to pass ‘We’ll return when the streetcar does’ the scrying boy points to the upturned mass With crazed GIs loose Mada and her boys depart while a curious crow tails her ass… Issue #8 – The Wild Boys ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩ A gayageum plays notes from the concerto called Dorothea The ribbon of rhythm writhes on the airstreams over Korea Baroque tones stir the ancient visage which inspired its idea Eddying over the ocean to hover above a 33rd avenue pizzeria ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪��♪♩♬♪♩♫ The melody meanders up 20th street pausing at its composer Three long-haired boys that look 10 but are very much older Standing before Currie Barracks Condo they are of one mourner The unrelated triplets commiserate over their deceased sister ‘I cannot feel her in there’ John the empath of the family confirms ‘I cannot reach her’ Robert retorts ‘all I hear is Dennis and worms’ Scryer James perceives future events but cannot grasp their terms ‘All I see is that the stone has been scattering its ill will like germs’ Treating the condo as if a gravestone they pay respect to her spirit With unkempt heads down the trinity are subdued for a moment Each recalls Dot, the Hole, the old woman then all begin to fidget John pulls a music sheet out of his shorts and whistles a snippet ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♬ James and Robert join him in his performance of Dorothea No. 4 When done John tosses the concerto down onto the sewer floor As they skate through the Loop Mada’s name hangs in every store Coffee shops hum with anticipation over the 70-year-old folklore Around the corner of 35th avenue is where a hungry entity stalks A hefty shadow cast from a vacant lot that limps wherever it walks The boys are too distracted to notice the relic from Pandora’s Box Because a fireball is about to knock’em out of their graphic socksIssue #9 – The Vacant LotYellow barricades protect the rich soil within the vacant lotThough ideal for growth it’s contaminated by junkyard rot Comparable to the toxin that comprises Hausis’ blood clot An

inherit gift from her father and the affects it has wrought Over a century old she has been scarred twice by the stoneAs well Hausis has been forced out of more than one homeFrom her log cabin to that school and finally the catacomb A hole she fled full of a plum, revenge and astral syndrome Dark energy leached into her, those boys and the headless one Wendigo mixed with indigo and once again she was on the run But on the Rez her spirits calmed; she even adopted a grandson It was the last time she felt love as the Sixties Scoop had begun Hungry and hateful she hid her mercy and fed on colonial fears Hitchhiking Highway 16 in the 1970s she traded entrails for tears Retribution for her surrogate sisters who had began to disappear When the stone summoned her home she returned with souvenirs She settled in South Calgary and became a landlord to tasty tenants Bones buried in the vacant lot next-door while lying to their parents A cane sword to assist her limp and cutback on the slaying minutes Serrated steel dentures to masticate and absorb her preys’ essence A century old entity at last content with her damned life up until TONIGHT When her plums return assured and still ripe enough to enjoy a quick biteWhen her bone yard is deemed aseptic and police investigation is in sightHausis lunges at the wild boys only to be repelled by a nimbus of starlight… Issue #10 – The Above People CREEEAK! The tactless teenager forcefully opens the oxidized attic door In search of a white wig for her cosplay getup she stomps across the floor Rummaging through containers she finds something unusual in a drawer A thirteen-year-old letter that when opened clarifies exactly who it is for ‘Aline: It’s with regret and sadness that I write this letter to my daughter’ ‘I had to go to a dangerous place so I left you to be raised by your father’ ‘I never stopped loving you or dreaming of the day we would be together’ ‘When you are ready to meet amass juniper twigs and a magpie feather’ Elated to see her mislaid mother Aline flees the loft in her space-opera costume She sprints across 35 Avenue towards a vacant lot shrouded by juniper in bloom Ripping off a bouquet Aline is unaware that just beyond bodies are being exhumed She spots a pudgy magpie perched on the yellow barricade and plucks at its plume Clutching the vital items the Big Dipper shaped beauty marks on her right arm glows FWOOOOM! A blinding white light descends from overhead lifting her off of her toes Aline suddenly finds herself in a melancholy landscape of stars, clouds and shadows Before her sit 2 enormous Above People who enquire as to her odd-looking clothes ‘It’s for Comic-con’ she roars removing the wig ‘who’re you and where’s my mom’ Sun God laughs as Moon Goddess speaks: ‘We see that you were raise with aplomb’ The electric entities sizzle and pop as they struggle to alleviate Aline’s many qualms ‘Your father fell in love with our granddaughter: the Morning Star he wished upon’ ‘But she had to return to Sky-Country to rid it of the evil her mother had let loose’ Mother Moon details how Feather Woman disobeyed and iniquity was introduced ‘She moved the giant turnip that which protects our portal because she was obtuse’ Mother Moon adds she encased the dummy in indigo stone and made her vamoose That is the past but the portal remains open for dark matter to infest Sky-Country The same stuff brought down with the stone when it crashed in the 19th century Aline accuses her great-grandparents of killing her kin and for spreading villainy The Gods giggle at the allegation clarifying Feather Woman merely has an injury More gen is traded and a deal is struck: if Aline fixes the portal all will be forgiven Above People will help find the Morning Star and teach Aline of her nuclear fusion KRA-KOOM! A fiery comet crashes and Aline emerges from impact like a magician Gazing at the wild boys she states ‘You dudes are my gran and we have a mission’… Issue #11 – The Penultimate Sequential squares spread over an infinitude of glittering stars Panels parted by gutters spanning

centuries between the bars A billboard advertises Marc and Mada’s forthcoming memoirs Christened Marda; Loop denotes the superannuated streetcar Inset in the ad is a shot of Magpie gnawing on a decayed thumb bone Balanced on the sign she spots a bird below who was once well known Magpie cries: ‘Ain’t seen you since you left with THAT there veiled crone’ Alit next to Magpie Crow recalls his ghastly exploits beyond the stone ‘It was Hell’ he croaks ‘The screaming, the silence, the suicide attempts’ ‘It took HER forever to bond with THOSE boys and get over her regrets’ ‘Once she did’ Crow pauses ‘she spearheaded some tantalizing events’ Led by the ledger and scryed images they tracked the fiery GIs’ contempt While 7 indigo infected ones enlisted for Korea 26 settled in Forest City An innocuous epithet for somewhere death stalked the streets regularly Enclosed by thickets it’s where butchers would conceal a mutilated body ‘The Serial Killer Capital’ Crow yelps ‘We lured them out during the 1960s’ Crow clarifies that when the GIs moved there each become a major player: Mad Slasher, Bedroom Strangler, Balcony Killer + the Chambermaid Slayer Mada the bait, Crow the lookout, and 3 wild boys unified became the healer ‘In the forest we’d draw out the purple poison leaving the mortals tamer’ Mada’s nursing background afforded them a home and a baby-grand piano She worked while under pseudonyms the boys penned novels & concertos ‘Forest City was safe and we had obtained almost all of that fugitive indigo’ ‘Almost’ Crow echoed ‘We left for Korea in ‘81 on a plane from Toronto’ Magpie squawks sceptically: ‘And then miraculously back for the 70th Anniversary’ {Had it been that long?} the crone ponders {Why did they whitewash my tragedy?} The veiled woman below the advert grimaces then utters anachronistic profanity Stalwart in stance she shudders when the #7 rolls by renewed for the pageantry… Issue #12 – Giant-Size Finale The fixed indigo stone pulsates expelling the remnants of its space toxin Pumped into the faucets of 22 occupants of the new condo atop its coffin Dragging fingers thru mauve hair they’re rapt by the stone’s dim doctrine They riot inside the structure while outside Mada and her wild boys lock in ‘Try it again’ the costumed Aline guides from inside the infinite sealed loop She has juniper and feather in hand yet something is off within their group ‘That thing’s teeing me off’ Mada breaks from the ring and sits on the stoop The rebuilt #7 streetcar gleams in the parking lot next to an effigy of troops Suddenly…a service door opens and the old wendigo limps out of the edifice ‘You’ Hausis growls at Aline ‘You’re relations with that Metis bastard Dennis’ Mada perks up at the name of the man who inadvertently made her endless ‘Are you?’ Mada asks ‘She sure is’ Hausis sniffs ‘and it’s making me ravenous’ Incensed Mada bares the jagged indigo scar spanning the length of her collar ‘Dennis did this’ she states ‘and orchestrated the 1950 South Calgary slaughter’ Aline has entirely no clue as to what occurred because of her great-grandfather And before Mada can educate her the group is spotted by a police helicopter ‘Freeze Ms. Cranmer’ a voice booms as a squad car pulls up with guns drawn Hausis has been hiding since police uncovered the bodies she had feasted on Clotheslined and cuffed the 145-year-old Cree woman is beaten with a baton Aline, Mada and wild boys watch in horror as Hausis is tenderized like carrion The wild child named Robert tugs at Aline’s skirt pointing at the departing cop car ‘Dot’ the 80-year-old kid chirps ‘The hungry lady has carried our sister’s soul so far’ Mada is not their 4th because it is the frail child Hausis mauled like a chocolate bar ‘We need that granny back’ Aline barks at Mada who turns away rubbing her scar Aline suggests they take the idle #7 and propel it with a trick she has just learned ‘Can I borrow a feather from your crow?’ she asks of Mada who still feels scorned Crow leaves Magpie atop the streetlamp landing beside Aline his feathers formed ‘I am not getting on that ’

Mada repeats just as the crazed tenants emerge armed KRA-KOOM! The refurbished #7 streetcar rockets down 20th street like a fireball Crow and Magpie try to slow the tenants’ progress to the 33rd avenue mini-mall Meanwhile the #7 zips down the parade route until it hits the cruiser then a wall Everyone on the #7 is unscathed and so too is Hausis who’s eating a cop’s eyeball Magpie and Crow flutter in to warn everyone of the approaching horde of tenants The wild boys jump into action with a hand out for Hausis who sees it as penance ‘Doesn’t make me a plum’ she gripes grasping John’s hand as if she is pregnant As the 4 siblings unite clouds appear and a powerful deluge forms within minutes The first drop hits as the vicious throng reaches Marda Loop then the sky cries The drenched tenants lose their momentum as the mauve washes over their eyes The rain relents as does the horde but Mada’s inner ire cannot be overemphasized The wild boys embrace Hausis and in turn Dot whose soul has now been reprisedOnlookers have gathered at the site sad to see there’s no anniversary to reminisce Crow and Magpie peck at the injured police officers as Aline stares into the abyss She apologizes to Mada for her relative’s actions but asks for her not to be remiss ‘We cannot change the past’ she points out ‘But if you help us now we can fix this’The wendigo, the crone, the wild boys, the star-child and the scavengers all return Loitering outside of the Currie Barracks condo building hashing out their concerns Hausis has subsisted with the stone while in exile so she knows where it’s interned In the bowels of the sub-basement they find the ancient rock fading in a slow burn John, James and Robert the perpetual 10-year-olds encircle Aline and embrace her Hausis jeers as the boys kiss their kin then whisper in Mada’s ear: Goodbye Mother The siblings start siphoning the stone’s essence back; Aline waves Magpie’s feather Hausis and the boys convert to stardust they swirl around the stone and then enter Aline and Mada escape the building as the boulder flies backwards thru the nexus Its trajectory bearing straight for Sky-Country where it will rid the land of sepsis The portal is sealed and The Above People welcome Feather Woman and Hausis Back in South Calgary Mada stands in the quiet rubble no longer feeling headless ‘Wanna meet my dad?’ Aline asks of her lithe friend who nods producing a smile Mada calls Crow but he and Magpie are stardust in a constellation of their profile Unveiled Mada and neophyte Aline walk towards a rainbow after their long trial As both fade over the hill stardust diffuses and floats to somewhere worthwhile An End

[kenkamishiro]

Ishida Sui’s Review of 2019

I didn’t think I’d ever finish this with my onslaught of classes including pharmacology, but I somehow managed! 6k word count, the longest TL I’ve done to date besides Parvati’s interlude for FGO. Lots of insight into Jack Jeanne’s production and what Ishida’s been up to for the past year. It was tough to translate because it was so long, but I had a lot of fun.

Let me know if there are any mistakes, I’m sure there’s a whole bunch. Have fun reading!

Original can be found here.

＊＊＊

2019. I’m reflecting on this past year while flipping through my agenda. Since I’m writing this for my sake, there’s going to be a lot of sections without much explanation.

January

○ This was when Jack Jeanne had yet to be announced, so I was mostly doing preliminary work at the time. Stuff like “BU” and “character facial expressions” will be finished some time this month, is written in my schedule book.

○ New Year’s party in Tokyo from the 16th - 19th. The New Year’s party is a joint party that’s comprised of the 4th editorial department (Shueisha’s seinen magazine branch) that’s held every year in January. I attended the party with the staff every year during serialization, minus my first year.

2019 will be the first New Year’s party since the series ended, but I thought I should stop inviting the staff to attend since we’re not working together anymore (plus it’d be a hassle), so I didn’t really invite anyone. But the day before the event, Editor M brought up the topic inside the taxi and asked, “Are none of the staff coming this year?” (Even if they’re invited now, it’s going to be impossible, asking them to fly the next day and causing a ruckus…) When I replied, “Hey, I’m sure it’d be fun if you invited them and they all came~”, the editor contacted Goubaru-kun, and after said, “He said he’s going.” Guess he wasn’t busy. In the end, the staff during serialization and several people from OB and OG came, almost identical to the lineup from previous years, and it occurred to me that maybe I should have just invited them from the start.

Anyway, at this year’s New Year’s party, I don’t really remember much of what happened. I talked with my senpais from back when I was an assistant for Kingdom, and outside the venue I sobered up from the agoraphobic dizziness I was feeling inside. At the second party I remember people talking to me haphazardly and being photographed. I wish I’d refused. Also, I was sexually harassed by Rikudou Matsubara, my senpai from the same region as me. This New Year’s party will be my last.

February

Briefing session for the game held in Tokyo. Key visual created. It says here [on the agenda] that I want to go to Kagoshima. Every week there’s a checklist for 10 km of jogging and weight training 2-3 times a week. I spent about a week doing some composition work. It ended up being helpful for me, but it made me decide not to work anymore with people with different levels of interest from me.

○ TRPG is written for the 28th. Usually we use the DX (Double Cross) system, but this time one of our participating players, M’s schedule was under mysterious attack. As game master, taking consideration of everyone who’d made time in their schedules for tonight, I thought we could switch to Cthulhu and asked them to wait an hour. 2 hours later I finished coming up with a scenario and began the session. It was fairly fun.

March

Finish BU this month, is clearly noted down. BU stands for bust-up, which are drawings of characters in standing poses [sprites] that are common in ADV games. Normally, since it takes a huge amount of work, the BU work is always divided up. The original drawings are done by the illustrator, in this case I do the base illustrations (line drawing & colouring), and using them as the base, the department sharing the work cleans up the line drawings and recolours it...that’s how the process goes. But since I’m a mangaka and don’t have the technology needed to make gaming assets, I thought it’d be best to leave it to the pros in that field, so that was how that stage proceeded. At that point in time at least.

I also had plans written down to go to Kagoshima. Looks like I didn’t go.

○ TRPG on the 25th. Player M’s schedule lined up with ours, so we played DX with 6 PL plus me as GM. We went to the aquarium, were attacked by witches, and so on.

April

Finish BU, is faintly written down. It seems like the work was more or less completed earlier this month.

○ High school friend K’s wedding on the 6th. Up until then I’d only been to two other wedding receptions. The weddings were for a different friend from high school, and Tajika-san, one of my senpais from Kingdom. This suddenly reminds me of that time at Tajika-san’s reception, when I took a super early flight because I absolutely didn’t want to be late whatsoever, but I ended up not being able to fly for about an hour and a half because of engine trouble or whatever, so I entered at almost the same time as the bride and groom during the reception…

K’s wedding was the first time in my life where I was present all the way from the wedding to the reception, but how should I put it, I was struck by a beam of light. I don’t know who he’s getting married to, I have no clue what their relationship is like. But I was somehow bombarded...by all these thoughts that became jumbled in my head, like the energy in this place, the power of their oaths, questioning what it was, how light isn’t always justice.

I got the feeling that this was what proper, respectable humans take part in, but since I'm fine with not being a proper, respectable human, I decided to not do anything other than what my heart desires.

I'm definitely not good with places where I’m in the spotlight. But congratulations.

○ “Play Sekiro” is strongly noted down. Thank you for supporting me in the first half of 2019.

○ TRPG for the 29th - 30th. DX. Player M’s character dies.

May - June

My schedule book is starting to look more scattered now. On the other hand, since I’ve got a good memory of this time, I can write while recalling the events.

○ I did the covers for the Touken stage play book.

I drew the cover illustrations for the Touken [Ranbu] stage play that Mikasano-san, who I’m grateful to for his work on the anime and movie scripts for TG, worked on. In my mind, it feels like I'm watching the back of who I'd consider my older brother in the creative world, or a fellow comrade on another battlefield fighting to the death. I think it came out quite charmingly, so I’ll include the links for now. Link 1 | Link 2 | Link 3

During this time of work for Jack Jeanne, I was working on “model sheets”. Blueprints for the characters’ attire, not just from the front but also the internal structure.

Unlike most other games, Jack Jeanne has “performance costumes” in addition to normal attire. Because of its “revue” theme, costumes that will be worn onstage needed to be prepared. I was shocked when I suddenly admitted that I needed model sheets for 5 different performances (spring, summer, fall, winter, final) for the 6 main characters, making 30 designs in total.

Back in the TG era, these kind of drawings that I just explained, or drawings that needed a lot of layers, were a pain in the ass. Plus I wasn’t good at them, so I thought that I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life if possible. But it seems like I have to do this myself. With a sense of determination, I decided to work solely on this for all of May. At the same time, I made nothing but curry for all my meals. There’s no deep reason behind it, but my aim was to kinda boost my ability to concentrate daily by choosing to be decisive in that action.

○ Working on model sheets It came with an unintended effect. Because I spent a month on work that required balance and consistency, my right-left checking skills got better, and completely unrelated, I improved in drawing perfect copies. The design work for the model sheets itself became really fun to do, starting around when I became obsessed with the scarf design (sumo wrestler drawing) I definitely couldn’t use for Neji’s summer costume. I discovered that it’s precisely because I’m not good at this that my labour bore fruit. I feel like this was my experience for the latter half of the year.

July

The cast members were chosen. Unlike TG, there are 6 people + 1 person who can be referred to as the main character, so it was interesting to have a cast with some breadth.

Seems like lyrical work was the main thing I worked on.

Lyrical work. In Jack Jeanne, each performance contains several songs to sing and dance to, so each one is supposed to be sung. ...hence the lyrics.

The topic of what to do with the lyrics was brought up in November 2018. What happens typically is that, let’s say there’s singing in an idol game, then a company that specializes in it is asked to produce the songs. Even for Jack Jeanne, there were several candidates I could pick and choose from. But after a quick look-through, frankly speaking, they all looked the same to me. There’s one person that’s good, it’d be great if we could get them...is what I thought, but, “Even though I don’t have the skills, I’m the one who understands this world the best,” crossed my mind. ...should I try? I tried it. To be honest, I was super embarrassed since it’d be seen by a lot of people, but it evolved into, “Who cares if you’re doing it?” And so Jack Jeanne’s lyrics were tasked to me.

I mentioned this earlier, but there are multiple songs for each performance. So if you combine those plus the opening and ending songs, that makes 17 songs in total. Lyrics for 17 songs that I’m fully responsible for. What the hell...am I doing? Maybe it was from that moment that I started losing it.

Including the lyrics that I’d been working on bit by bit every month, the remaining ones were finished in one go this July. By the time I finished everything, my current state was, “Give me more songs...let me write more lyrics!” But it wasn’t over just yet.

August

Every time I meet someone I tell this story. I’m thinking of keeping it up. Here I am, relieved to have finished the lyrics, when a message pops up on the Skype group chat. It’s from Yamashita Daisuke of Broccoli.

To briefly touch upon Yamashita Daisuke, he is a young man who’s been involved with this project since October of 2018, and a poor soul who was tasked with conducting very important meetings on his third day of working at the company.

The producer from Broccoli was going on maternity leave, so he was scouted as her replacement. As an aside, if I have to be honest, the exchanges between me and Towada-san, and Broccoli’s Jack Jeanne team up until then were quite frustrating. “How about doing it like this?” they would counter. And we’d respond with something like, “This part is going to be developed later on, and since this will become foreshadowing for the entirety of the story, it can’t be modified that easily.” This kind of situation, having to explain everything in detail one by one, going 3 steps forward and being held 2 steps back, had been going on for about 3 years, so the two of us would often whine about it over drinks, going, “When should we quit, this is ridiculous,” etc.

Finally when things began going more smoothly, the producer who was leading the project took her leave, so I wondered if we’d be able to get along with Yamashita Daisuke, but he was, how should I put it, very diligent. For the last year I've been working with people who don’t put in their best effort, so I was very hopeful and thankful to him.

But I digress. This was the gist of the message that Daisuke sent.

“Kosemura-san’s who’s in charge of musical composition wants ‘scratch vocal tracks’ for when the singers are recording.” “Does Ishida-sensei happen to know anyone he could ask for this favour?” “I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you!” “Frankly speaking, it’s okay even if they’re bad.”

Huh. Well, as you might have already guessed, even with the lyrics, it’s impossible to really understand the song at first sight without knowing what kind of rhythm, what kind of emotions are being expressed in the bar measure. Of course we’d need ‘scratch vocal tracks’ to explain the general feeling of the song.

Now, what Daisuke said was, “Do you have anyone you can ask? It’s okay even if they’re bad. Or even you can do it.” But if I found a “it’s okay even if they’re bad” kind of person, we’d still have to show them how to sing it and explain how the rhythm goes. Daisuke already knew which was probably why he asked for the favour. “The person writing the lyrics would be able to make the scratch vocal tracks the fastest.” ...come to think of it, the demo songs that Kunimitsu sent me every time that were sung using Vocaloid, weren’t they also scratch vocal tracks?

Daisuke must have been in a pinch trying to figure out how he should ask me candidly. Ishida-sensei, I couldn’t just ask you to sing it, so I had to ask in a roundabout manner.

I’d already given my answer, but I was still hesitant. It’s true that after I finished writing the lyrics for the 17 songs I’d already lost sight of myself, but if I sang, my singing would reach Broccoli and Kosemura-san’s team’s ears. But I couldn’t just leave poor Daisuke hanging.

So I consult Towada-shi, whom I’d been collaborating with in creating the scripts for Jack Jeanne, for advice. (He had been in charge of TG’s novels, and I’ve known him for a long time.) “Did you check Skype?” “I did.” “What do you think?” “Start by looking up scratch vocal tracks,” so we paid a visit to YouTube. The first search result that came up for ‘scratch vocal track’ was a video of a vocalist who was used to sing a scratch track for AKB or something. I see, so that’s what it looks like. Innocuous, but I could see it was very professionally done.

And the second result that came up was Tsunku♂-shi. The figure of Tsunku♂-shi himself recording a scratch track for his idols. The producer himself became an idol, and was singing really cutely, in his emotions and how he sang it. “This is it?” I said. “Yeah, it is,” Towada-shi agreed. If Kosemura-san and his team, and the people who will be performing the songs have to listen to it, it’d be a disservice to them to half-ass it. I don’t like people who don’t try their best. That means I have to show that attitude myself. Let’s come out of my shell for poor Daisuke as well.

“You’re gonna become Tsunku♂.” “Yeah...I’m gonna be Tsunku♂!” And that was how I became Tsunku♂.

I replied to Daisuke on the Skype group chat. “Understood, I’ll do what I can.”

So this guy, who doesn’t even know what the ‘D’ in DTM stands for, first downloads the software, and begins setting up a recording environment. Other work is pushed aside. I set 3 days to work on this.

I timidly begin working on the scratch tracks. From the perspective of someone who doesn’t have to listen to their singing for a living, it starts out as a living hell, but you get used to it as you listen to it over and over.

And so I kept learning new things. I noticed I was harmonizing with myself.

Just like Tsunku♂-shi, I’d change the voice for each character. If it was Jack (male in a male role) I’d sing like a man, and if it was Jeanne (male in a female role), then like a woman, while the main character Kisa (female) should sound cute... No, Kisa needs to be cuter! I re-recorded her part many times. Depending on the song, I’d sing for 7 people. I was Jack Jeanne now.

Tsunku♂ (I) recorded 17 songs in 3 days, and sent the data first to Towada-shi. Since I was now Tsunku♂, I no longer felt any sense of embarrassment.

“I listened to it,” the reply came, and I called him. Towada-shi was roaring with laughter. I regained the embarrassment I’d forgotten.

“Oh no, I was laughing ‘cause I was impressed,” he said, but my heart was already as fragile as that of an abandoned dog.

“Even this is a big help to Kosemura-san, and Daisuke should be grateful, right?” Yeah. Although Towada-shi guffawed at me, Daisuke will surely thank me. And then he’ll definitely tell me what a good job I did!

I dumped the music into the Skype group chat. “I did what I could,” I added.

How will Daisuke react to my Tsunku♂? I waited restlessly. Three days later on August 5th, a formal message arrived after it was received.

“Thank you very much. We will schedule a meeting with Kosemura-san…”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My hard work got dismissed with, “Thank you very much.”

Daisuke, why? I thought you were in a pinch, so I...were...were you fooling with me from the start? Answer me! Daisuke! Just tell me I did a good job, or follow up with something, I’m fine with anything! So much for my heart being like an abandoned dog, it’s more like a grown-ass man left naked on a snowy mountain. I did what I could! This feeling was welling up inside me, but was it myself that managed to do it?

○ Later, at a meeting with Kosemura-san “It’s great that you could do this much for us. You didn’t have to do all that.” With the gist of those words, a warm blanket was finally placed over my heart, which had almost frozen to death.

“I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t sure if Sensei was the most who did it in the first place,” Daisuke said, so I decided to satisfy myself by threatening, “I’m gonna tell this story until the day I die.”

September

○ Responses to the Questions to Ishida Sui contest We did a “Ask anything to Ishida Sui” contest as a project for the art book “zakki:re”, where purchasers could apply with a postcard. I was writing the replies for them.

I thought there’d be a lot more questions about TG or its contents, but surprisingly there were a lot of questions asking for life advice. There were quite a few questions that I had to seriously think about to answer.

It was kinda tough since there were over a hundred of them, but I thought it’d be nice to get in touch like this every once in a while.

○ BU work for Jack Jeanne Once the music-related tasks like lyrical composition and scratch vocal tracks were completed, I worked on BU. ...BU work? Wasn’t it finished back in April?

Well, a similar situation arose just like what happened with the lyrics. Regarding sprite quality I might not be able to beat the pros, but since I’m the one who best understands how the characters look best and their body balance, I had decided to do all the line drawing colouring myself in June. I had no clue whether I’d make the deadline or maintain the quality, but thanks to Broccoli’s understanding, I was allowed to make it myself.

I realized once again that I’m terrible at splitting up work. If I can do it by myself, I will.

Plus, it’s, how should I put it, starting from my TG days, even though it wasn’t a lot I got to see various types of workplaces. I’d see places where there was no sense of responsibility whatsoever, or the work may have been divvied up appropriately, but it felt like they were making something without a sense of purpose, like a main plot line that isn’t going anywhere.

It’s impossible to accomplish big things with that kind of stance, and I understand that the more people that intervene, the more uncertain the core becomes, so I didn’t like that kind of approach. It makes me wonder whether there’s any meaning in creating a work that’s conservative and unchallenged, and if it’s nothing more than a money grab.

Since I don’t have any desire for material things, getting fed up about it is useless, but I just can’t help thinking about it.

Of course, it may be difficult to get what I want 100% of the time, but I want to create things in an environment that I think is beautiful, even in places that I’m slightly involved in.

...in other words, BU work is tough, but I began remaking the sprites once again by myself. This was the toughest work I’ve ever done out of everything, including the serialization...

○ Scratch vocals training camp at the end of September I went to the recording for the scratch vocal tracks. Based on the scratch tracks that I made, we got professional vocalists to sing it again properly. This is what the actual cast would use as a reference to sing. (So my version was like the pre-scratch vocal track.)

I was stuck in Tokyo for almost a week. Wake up, get ready, go to the recording studio. Come back at 8 or 9 pm, rest and sleep, repeat.

It was like I was back in school, and since I don’t have a steady lifestyle, I enjoyed it.

Kosemura-san’s team is really great, and I know I mentioned this before, but I felt like their workplace was a very healthy production site. When I was drawing manga, I never had much time to talk with fellow manga artists, and I’ve never had the chance to experience what other professionals’ workplaces were like, so it was very exciting for me to see people as professionals tackle one thing seriously. The vocalists were as amazing as I expected, and although my scratch tracks were played at a loud volume to annoy me, I had a great time.

The game might have a high level of entry, but it’s worth listening to just for the songs, is what I truly thought.

○ Parting words to Editor M-shi This might have been back in August, but from 2018 to 2019 I had a lot of things on my mind, so I began talking to the editor.

In between the 11 years of serialization starting from my rookie days, I’d received guidance from him so it wasn’t easy, but I expressed to him that we should keep our distance for any future works.

“I want to become absorbed in myself, not to Ishida Sui or Tokyo Ghoul,” I told him. The other part said he also felt the same way, and accepted it. The next time we meet, I hope we can talk about what we’re into, what we’re going crazy over, he said.

And so, 2 months after that conversation was the scratch vocals training camp in Tokyo, and I had the chance for the two of us to talk again. That day I was completely tuckered out from recording the scratch track, but it was a day filled with accomplishments.

He took me to a restaurant with delicious food in Ebisu or somewhere, and after concluding our brief business meeting, I tried throwing out the cliched, “So, what are you up to lately?” As the lead writer, there was a part of me that was curious about how he was doing after that talk we had.

The editor began talking about homemade curry.

...that’s what he’s into? I decide everything from selecting and picking the ingredients myself, and next time I want Ishida-kun to also see how delicious the curry is...he told me passionately, but how should I put it, the conversation wasn’t very spicy.

The food was delicious.

October

○ BU work

What’s hard about BU work is that it’s difficult to separate the layers according to the face, hair and clothes, and they all have to have the same style and touch to it. If it was manga, then maybe...no, even in manga, there’s still some need to match the outfits, but it doesn’t really matter to that extent.

It’s because I don’t like game sprites. “This character has so much energy from their sideways pose! Amazing!” This never happens…

Around this time of the year, my older sister called this elaborate task, “the task you’re probably the worst at.”

○ The bean life I’m not really fat in particular, but I made up my mind to try dieting. At the time, my body fat percentage was at 18%, and I’ve never been below 10% ever in my entire life, so I’m thinking of aiming for that. Instead of eating rice with unseasoned chickpeas and black soybeans, I began my lifestyle of consuming vegetables and cuts of meat with less fat. Hopefully I can achieve my goal in about six months’ time.

○ Ano-chan, Honda Keisuke, and I After Ano-chan left “You’ll Melt More!”, her official Twitter account removed every single account she was following, but for some reason only two people remained. Those two people were Honda Keisuke and Ishida Sui. To Ano-chan, Honda Keisuke and Ishida Sui belonged in the same category. After some time passed, even we were removed, but I consider this one of my hottest mysteries of 2019. Ano-chan! I’ll always be waiting, so let’s have tea some time with Honda Keisuke!

November

○ BU Need I say more.

○ Main cast’s first recording session from the 26th - 27th.

I visited Tokyo with Towada-shi to supervise the main cast members’ recording session. Wow, everyone was so amazing~

Of course, not just the main characters. Terasaki Yuka-san who plays the main character, Tachibana Kisa, was wonderful as well.

In this kind of game genre, the position as the main character feels less important than the male characters, but I want her to stand firmly in this story’s script. I thought it’d be nice to have the main character not stand out too much and have her watch over the male characters, and I felt that Terasaki-san’s voice and acting fit that image perfectly.

About the cast members, it seems like there’ll be a chance to speak to them eventually, so I’ll come back again.

○ 1 month into the bean life I’m steadily losing weight. Basically I always work from home. I go to the gym and supermarket 2-3 times a week. I started cooking for myself. I got a brand new refrigerator to replace the one that suddenly broke. It actually cools things down now. Living standards have risen.

December

○ I break off ties with M who I played TRPG together with. He was a former classmate who was even chief assistant at some point during the series’ run, but eventually he ended up getting fired due to falling asleep at work. He said he’d attend the last session for the story that day (although his own character had already died), and I was working on a schedule to accommodate him, but once again he cancelled at the last minute.

It’s fine to cause trouble for me (although I’ll probably get pissed), but I can’t overlook treating others the same way. And it’s not the fact that his schedule didn’t match up, it’s because he was complete trash who didn’t know how to behave like an adult once he made plans with others, that I felt sorry for the other TRPG people who took time out of their schedules. Since I felt ashamed when I was together with him, I decided I’d had enough.

This was a year where I cut ties with a lot of people, but I think what they had in common was that I was ashamed to be with them. From now on, I don’t want to associate with such people.

What’s more, when I finally told him, he didn’t even try to deal with it and just gave up, responding, “So that’s how you felt about me. Okay. My bad.”

I won’t go anywhere with those kind of people again.

○ The bean life ⇒ the potato life. I changed it to potatoes.

○ BU is over...

On December 17th, I finally finished the BU work that I spent ageeeeeeeees on.

Although I said that serialization is tough, as long as I finished 18 pages a week that was it (although there were times where I was chasing myself with other work), so I could finish it as long as I didn’t sleep. I somehow managed to finish both the manuscripts and the colour illustrations this way, so expecting BU to be similar, I wasn’t really scared about it never ending, but BU truly was despair. When is this gonna end? I’m even working super hard… This is how it went on the entire time for over a month.

There were about 200 different sprites I had to make myself, including the different costumes and poses, and I had to do all of them.

For one thing, when, “This process is necessary,” came out, I had to go through the same process roughly 200 times, that it felt like I was facing the final boss who already transformed many times. Also, it’s like not equipping myself with a lot of equipment and recovery items in the previous town, but the dungeon I somehow managed to enter is extremely dangerous and even though there’s no safe points anywhere in sight, the boss suddenly comes up behind you, and you go I’m gonna die I’m gonna die

○ If you eat a lot while you’re losing weight, you’re going to have a bad time.

On December 15th I had trouble concentrating, so I tidied up the living room, created a space in the middle of the room, and darkened the lights. After an hour of meditating, only the sound of my breathing could be heard in the room, and so I went back to work with renewed concentration after confronting the issue (like a monk?).

On December 16th, I’ve been working the entire time since morning. I thought today was going to be the last day, but an entire day has passed and I don’t have any energy...

I’ll buy a midnight snack, replenish my energy, and end it once and for all. I’m trying to lose weight, but I went to the convenience store while thinking about how I’m gonna eat a katsu sandwich (I didn’t have the energy to cook).

While looking for something at a convenience store I can eat during weight loss, I think back over the last few months.

Like how it seems like BU is finally over, how a lot of things have happened, how I’m working hard, how lately I’ve been eating only potatoes, vegetables and meat.

And then I suddenly thought, “I wonder if the reason I don’t have any energy is because I haven’t had any rice lately.”

...I thought I should go on a diet in October, so I’ve been living a very modest life since then. Thanks to that, my weight has steadily decreased, and my body fat percentage has gone down 3% to 15%. What will happen if I continue with my relatively strict dietary restrictions during this difficult time?

...even if you’re losing weight, there’s a technique you can set up to binge eat during periods where weight loss stagnates, called cheat day (though results may vary), but what is it that makes no-cheating so inefficient even for weight loss?

...should I have a cheat day today?

“Huh, is it really okay?” I asked my mind. “Do it!” was the answer I got. From that moment, everything around me morphed into things I could eat.

No exaggeration, my knees trembled.

I crammed into my shopping basket carbohydrates, carbs, more carbs… It’s okay just for today, I say as I shove cream puffs, dorayaki, pudding, Family Mart chicken and ice cream. (Even if it's a cheat day, it’s probably not a good idea to take non-nutritional foods, but shh.)

With food in both hands and in high spirits, the first thing I ate was the delicious part of the Family Mart chicken.

I groaned loudly, all alone in the room.

Alright, let’s finish this work! I was energized, but my blood sugar levels spiked so much that I felt extremely sleepy and went to bed instead.

The next day on the 17th, I wake up at 4 am and immediately notice something unusual. My body is burning. I’m sweating.

I immediately wake up, and overflowing with energy, I head for my desk. I’m working actively, and I finish the BU work. It felt like I was pushing forward with only positive energy, feeling uplifted.

I break out a laugh at a slight joke I found funny from a foreign drama (The Mentalist) I’m playing while working. The greenery of the plants and the lighted sink glisten, and the scenery is vivid.

What is this?

I suddenly recall the story of a YouTuber I saw recently. He lives in a region where medical marijuana is legalized, and he explained in detail what changes would occur if you smoked cannabis.

To put it roughly, you feel calm and your senses sharpen. Trivial things can become funny, and funny videos can make you roar with laughter.

Then maybe...I thought, I'll watch Nagareboshi (a comedy duo) on YouTube. Usually I go, haha, that's funny! But that day I exploded with laughter...all of their videos were just too funny.

I learned that when you’re losing weight and suddenly eat a lot, it alters your mind and body as if you smoked cannabis. (※ Just to be clear, I don’t know what cannabis is like.)

Thus the BU work ended with me being high as a kite.

(※ I’m covering it with mosaics for now. I’ll remove it once I can announce it.)

○ I stopped playing TRPGs. I’ve been doing it for about two and a half years, but it also helped me in honing my creative skills. I’d sometimes perform, so it was useful when I was recording the scratch vocals… It was a good experience, managing to vicariously live the energy of ending a story. It was a story about a group of friends, so it was easy to appreciate.

Summing up 2019

After the weekly series finished in 2018, I was in a daze for a few months, but in 2019 I worked only on Jack Jeanne for the year.

This year I tried various things, and trite as it may seem, felt the possibilities within myself expanding. I had many opportunities to realize how important it is to keep a distance from bad things that don’t do anything for me.

During my work on Jack Jeanne, I vaguely thought about my future creations. The work I’m doing now in game production is fun so I wonder if I can keep working in this field, but I’d also like an environment where I can release things more constantly.

I can’t promise anything specific, but I’m going to work on things that I want to do.

I look forward to what 2020 has to offer. Have a happy New Year.

2019.12.31 Ishida Sui

[junghelioseok]

catharsis.

↳ no matter what kind of release you need, he’s there.

◇ jungkook x reader | ft. pjm ◇ smut | college!au | fwb!au  ◇ 23.5k [1/1]

notes: i don’t have a good explanation for this. i’m comprised of exactly 0% chill and i really wanted to write a jikook threesome, so here it is ft. too much plot and a whole lotta whipped kook, lmao. quick shoutout to @puellaigmotum, who has been supporting me and calling me out on my shit in equal measure during this process. thanks for listening to me ramble and making me suffer with pictures/gifs of the rude fucker aka jeon jungkook - i do appreciate it ♡

also, please read this on a computer if you’re able! the keep reading cut doesn’t always show up, and this fic can and will freeze the mobile app, believe me, lmao.

warnings: switch!jjk, kinda sleazy jimin, oral, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, masturbation, sexting, threesome (mfm), mild cumplay? who really knows!

Of two things, you are certain.

The first—and undoubtedly the most pressing—is that finals week is going to be the death of you. Tearing your gaze from the chemistry book on your desk, you flop down ungracefully onto your bed for a well-deserved break, extending one hand to rummage around the crumpled blankets for your phone.

The second—and really, you’re counting on this—is that Jeon Jungkook’s dick is going to keep you sane until graduation. Over the past year, you’ve called on each other so often that you don’t even have to scroll down in your text messages to find his name. A few clicks and a simple come over later, you throw your phone down and release a long, heavy breath before letting your eyes slide shut.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because you jolt awake to the sound of someone knocking. With a groan, you drag yourself to your feet and pad over to the front door, throwing it open to reveal one exceptionally rumpled Jeon Jungkook, his chest heaving.

You raise an appraising brow. “What, did you fucking run over here?”

Jungkook rakes a hand through his tousled hair—still damp with sweat—and adjusts the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Just got out of dance practice, actually,” he explains. “And your elevator’s out, so I had to take the stairs. Six flights is no joke, you know.”

Stepping aside, you let him in, watching as he drops his bag to the ground carelessly as soon as he’s over the threshold. “You better not be too tired to fuck me.”

His gaze darkens. You barely have time to register the change in his expression before he has you pressed against the wall, strong arms caging you in an ironclad embrace. “Trust me, baby, I’m wide awake,” he murmurs before leaning down to crush his lips to yours. His tongue finds its way into your mouth as he reaches up to cup your cheek, the other hand sliding down to rest at the small of your back and tugging you flush against his firm chest.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, pulling away from his addictive mouth only for his attentions to refocus on the crook of your neck instead. A soft moan escapes you as he nips at the sensitive skin, and Jungkook groans lowly in response, his grip tightening around you.

“I’m going to end up fucking you right here against this wall if you keep moaning like that, babe.” His hands dip down to the fleshy curve of your ass, squeezing as if to emphasize his point.

Your head falls back at the jolt of not-quite pain. “Wh-while that wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,” you stammer, watching through lidded eyes as Jungkook grasps the hem of your shirt and tugs it up to expose your bare breasts, “why waste the perfectly good bed I have in my bedroom?”

Jungkook dips down to press a kiss to your cleavage, and you thank whatever god may be out there that you decided to forego a bra this morning. “Why indeed?” In an instant, he’s pulled your shirt entirely off, tossing it to the ground haphazardly before scooping you up into his arms. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he commands, and you are quick to obey, winding your arms around his neck for additional support. His mouth finds yours again as he carries you into your room and places you gingerly on the bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and as soon as you’re settled you break the kiss to reach for his white t-shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Throwing it aside, you greedily take in the sight of his bare skin, golden like honey in the soft light of your desk lamp.

“Pants,” you demand, grasping at his belt buckle, but Jungkook stops you with a laugh, much to your displeasure.

“No way,” he murmurs, hot breath washing across your cheeks. “It’s your turn.”

“We’re taking turns? What is this, elementary school?” you ask in disbelief, only for the complaint to trail off into a moan when Jungkook starts kissing a path down your bare stomach. Sly fingers find their way into the waistband of your sweatpants, and in a single, practiced motion, he peels them off along with your panties. You gasp loudly at the sudden rush of cool air, hands flying up to tangle in his silky hair as your body jolts in surprise. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

“So sensitive.” Jungkook chuckles, brazenly blowing a puff of warm air against your clit. “And already wet,” he marvels, drawing closer to your core. “You’re so needy, baby.”

A low groan escapes you, your hands tightening their grip on his hair. “Don’t tease,” you plead, canting your hips up toward his smirking mouth.

Obligingly, Jungkook leans down and licks a long, slow stripe across your entrance, ending with a teasing flick of his tongue against your clit. “So needy,” he repeats, his voice deceptively soft and bordering on a husky growl that sends shivers down your spine. 

And then his face disappears between your thighs entirely, his questing tongue dipping inside you with every slick motion. There is nothing soft or sweet in the way he eats you out, but that doesn’t stop your tummy from tensing or your thighs from clenching just a little tighter around his head.

A throaty chuckle escapes Jungkook when he feels you tighten around him—the sound rumbling straight to your core and drawing another gasp from your lips. Strong arms wind around your legs, hands settling on your knees to hold you open, and when you try to tilt your hips upward again you find that he’s rendered you entirely immobile, only able to take what he sees fit to give. “Jungkook, oh god—“

“How are you already this close?” the dark-haired young man murmurs in fascination, releasing your clit from his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. “I’ve barely touched you.”

You wriggle uselessly against his unrelenting grip, frowning when he doesn’t loosen up in the slightest. “And now you’re not touching me at all,” you grumble, petulant. “You getting tired on me, Jeon?”

Jungkook growls lowly at your provocation, dark eyes glinting. “Actually, I wanted you to cum on my cock instead of my tongue, but now I’m rethinking letting you cum at all,” he says, his tone surprisingly even despite the danger lurking in his gaze. “You wanna take that back, babe?”

“I don’t think you have any right to be threatening me when you’re that hard,” you retort, glancing pointedly down at the bulge straining against his faded jeans. Then your gaze wanders down further—past the thick muscle of his thighs and tight definition of his calves all the way to his feet, just hanging off the edge of the bed. “Hang on. Are… are you wearing Iron Man socks?”

The dark-haired young man flashes you a crooked little smirk and wiggles his toes in affirmation. “That a problem?” he asks.

You groan. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one who texted this nerd at midnight to come and fuck your brains out, so I wouldn’t be mouthing off if I were you.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “Better yet, why don’t you put that pretty little mouth to good use and wrap it around my cock?”

“Lose the socks first and I’ll consider it,” you reply, finally managing to free yourself from his firm hold.

Jungkook chortles, watching as you sit up. Slowly, he slides off the bed and straightens up to his full height, eyes never once leaving yours as he deliberately reaches down to pull off one red sock, then the other. Tossing them aside, he settles onto the bed again, lying back against the pillows scattered along the headboard and beckoning for you to join him with an outstretched finger. Obediently, you crawl over, pausing thoughtfully before throwing one leg over him and perching atop his strong, thick thighs. You find his belt buckle with deft fingers and practiced ease, a quiver of anticipation jolting through you when you finally free his erection from its denim prison.

“Fuck,” you breathe softly, not even realizing that you’re speaking aloud. It’s only when Jungkook chortles again that you realize your mistake, flushing as he tilts your chin up with his index finger.

“Trust me, I will be,” he assures as he reaches into his back pocket, amused gaze raking across your face before settling on your mouth. After a moment’s digging, confusion etches its way across his face, slowly morphing into despair when he rummages through his other pocket. “Shit. Do you have a condom?”

“Ran out last week,” you reply, taking perverse pleasure in the look of panicked anguish that creases his expression.

“Goddamnit. I thought I had one... Do you think the convenience store downstairs has any? I can run down and check—“

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a languid kiss before he can ramble his way off a cliff. Your thumb brushes across the head of his weeping cock, relishing the way he immediately twitches in your grasp. “I’m on birth control, you know,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to whisper the words against his lips. “And last I checked, we were both clean.”

His eyes widen to comic proportions, jaw slackening when he pieces together the meaning behind your words. “Do you mean—I mean, I can…?”

Smirking, you circle the tip of his dick with your thumb once more, spreading his slick precum over the head. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook breathes, awestruck. “Fuck, yes.” His hips stutter forward, seeking more friction, and you giggle as you obligingly wrap your hand more firmly around his length and give him a few good strokes. A hoarse groan escapes him at the added stimulation, and you break out into a satisfied grin when you notice just how prominent the vein in his neck is from the strained way he’s clenching his jaw. “Still want my mouth now, baby?” you murmur into his ear.

Jungkook lets out another groan when you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his erection again. “T-tease,” he accuses, but there is no real bite in his tone. His hands curl around your hips, and your question is answered when he greedily pulls you closer, guiding your body until you can feel the velvety head of his cock slipping between your slick folds.

Still, you can’t help but torment him a little. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” you murmur, trailing your hands down his chest and along the muscular ridges of his taut abdomen. The insubstantial touch draws a shiver from the man underneath you, his muscles twitching underneath your fingertips, and a pleased smirk stretches across your face when his hands tighten their hold on your hips.

And then, before he can even think to open his mouth to retort, you sink down onto his cock—all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion. The surge of fullness draws a moan from you, an answering groan leaving Jungkook’s parted lips when you immediately begin to move, raising yourself up only to sink back down again. “God, you’re so warm,” he sighs. “So warm and—nngh—so fucking wet. Christ. I’m never fucking you with a condom again.”

“Good,” you gasp, bouncing a little faster on top of him. Your ass meets the well-worn denim of his jean-clad thighs with every movement, and Jungkook lets loose another low groan when you reach up and rake your fingers down his chest, grazing across his nipples.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages breathlessly, gazing up at you with darkened eyes. “Ride me, baby.” His fingers twitch against the supple skin of your waist, urging you to move even faster as he begins to snap his hips up in time with your thrusts.

A devilish whim strikes you then, a mischievous smirk stretching across your face as you immediately slow down your rhythm. “What makes you think you’re in control here, Jungkook?” you purr, grinding against him languidly. A shudder ripples through his body at the motion, sheer desperation seeping from every single pore.

“{Name},” he rasps, letting his hands flop down uselessly at his sides. His throat bobs as he tries to find the words to continue, and you stop moving entirely to watch his silent struggle.

“What is it, Jungkookie?” you tease, tracing the dips of his toned abdomen and grinning when he shivers under the insubstantial touch.

Jungkook swallows harshly, his breath stuttering in his throat before every ounce of desperation comes pouring out like a tidal wave. “Baby, please,” he entreaties, gazing up at you pleadingly with those wide doe eyes that are so incongruous with the rest of his body. “You look so good bouncing on my dick like that and I just… fuck. I wanna cum inside you so bad. I wanna cum inside you and fill you up all nice and pretty and—“

Whatever he was going to say is going to have to go unfinished, because you are surging forward to mold your mouth to his, desire flaring in your belly. Instinct has Jungkook snaking his arms around your waist to tug you flush against him, skin against skin as you deepen the kiss.

“Baby,” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to mumble the words against your mouth. “I need you to move, please.”

Obligingly, you grind down on him, once, an electric thrill running through you when he immediately lets out a hoarse groan. You’ve never been able to resist how vocal he is in bed, and you are quickly realizing that you are in no state to tease anymore—not with the heat in your belly flaring up to unbearable levels. Whimpering, you begin to rock harder against him, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders. You’re certain that your fingernails are digging vicious crescents into his honeyed skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, his eyes hooded and darker than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Oh god, Jungkook—“

“Fuck, {Name}.” Jungkook’s head falls back against your pillows, mussing his tousled hair even further. “Fuck, that’s it, right there. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like that. You feel so good clenching around me, baby.” The words escape him in a rush, and the deepness of his voice is enough to make you shiver. He’s rolling his hips in time with yours now, the mattress springs squeaking in protest under your combined weight. Every thrust sends electric warmth coursing through you, and when Jungkook’s hand darts between your thighs to rub at your clit you almost lose your balance, tilting dangerously on his lap.

“Oh god, fuck—“ Your vocabulary is steadily deteriorating, but the heat simmering in your belly is reaching unbearable levels, coiling tighter and tighter with every deliciously heavy drag of his cock along your walls. Sweat gathers at your temples and slicks your neck, and a glance down at the young man below you shows that he’s faring no better.

Jungkook is staring up at you, transfixed. His breathing is growing ragged, his chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat, but he is absolutely relentless in the way he touches you. In the months that you have slept together, he’s learned exactly what you like—and with a flick of his thumb and just the right amount of pressure you are sent spiraling off the edge, lost in a wave of pleasure. Even as you come back down from your high, he doesn’t falter, his thumb still drawing determined circles around your sensitive bud.

“Jungkook—“ His name is a whine on your lips.

“Come on, baby,” he rasps. “I know you can take it. Cum for me again—you’re so pretty when you cum.”

“Jungkook, I can’t—“ you protest, but the words have barely left your mouth before you are tensing again, leaving you to marvel at how well Jungkook knows your body. Any protests you might have had turn into a series of keening whimpers and moans, and he barrels over the edge right alongside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Distantly, you hear him grit out something that sounds suspiciously like your name as creamy heat floods through you, his body going lax underneath yours.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing. You are still straddling Jungkook’s denim-clad thighs with his dick softening inside you, and from the way his arms remain wound around you, he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon. He hasn’t even raised his head yet, drawing a shudder from you as his hot breath washes across your sweat-slicked skin.

“Cold?” he asks, and you can hear the amusement lacing his tone, feel the way his mouth curls into a smile against your clavicle.

“Sticky,” you say honestly.

Jungkook snorts out a laugh and finally lifts his head, brown eyes crinkled with amusement. “Good thing you have a bathroom and a working shower, then.”

“Both of which I will happily put to use once you let go of me, you big baby.” You tap his cheek playfully, coaxing him to loosen his hold on you before wriggling off his lap, wincing slightly when his cock slips out. Almost immediately, your combined juices begin dripping down your thighs, and the way Jungkook’s gaze immediately zeroes in on the glistening trails doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Interesting. “Jungkook?”

He blinks twice, rapidly, and looks up at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“You were staring,” you explain, casually reaching down and scooping up a bit of the sticky substance. Jungkook follows your every movement, never once wavering from the droplet of white sitting on your fingertip.

“I—“ He clears his throat and tries again. “I was thinking about something.”

“Oh?” You cock a brow before raising your finger to your lips, delighting in the way his eyes grow even bigger. Without breaking eye contact, you open your mouth and touch the pad of your finger to your tongue, relishing the salty tang and the positively ravenous expression that overtakes Jungkook’s face. “What were you thinking about, baby?”

His gaze turns positively lurid, pure desire flashing in his dark irises. “I was thinking about making you gather up all that cum on those fingers of yours,” he growls, a thrill running down your spine as his voice drops an octave. “And watching as you push it all back inside that pretty little pussy.”

Arousal flares up in your core once more, but you tamp it down in favor of smirking coyly at him and scooting forward until you’re kneeling between his spread legs. “I’m sure we can make that happen,” you purr, leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sharp curve of his jaw. Then you pull back and stand up from the bed, taking perverse delight in the confused frown that crosses Jungkook’s face as you make to walk toward the bathroom. “But right now, all I want is a hot shower.”

A hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. Turning around, you find yourself staring down at Jungkook once more, heat flaring in your tummy when you notice the residual hunger still lingering in his gaze. But when he speaks, his voice is back at its usual pitch, soft and pleasantly melodious. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not if you’re just planning on fucking me against the shower wall,” you say dryly. “That thing’s freezing, you know.”

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth as he stands up, tucking his spent cock back into his jeans for the sake of propriety. “I won’t, I promise. At least, not this time.” Then he breaks into a grin, his prominent teeth on full display. “Not sure I can even get it up again right now, to be honest. Hobi’s working us into the ground for this showcase. I’m fucking beat.”

The snarky retort in your head dies on your lips when you take a good, hard look at him—noting the bags under his eyes and the crease between his brows. You know that his dance crew—Neuron—is putting on their end-of-the-year showcase in just a few days. It’s a highly-anticipated event every year, and a welcome break from the stress of finals, but up until now you’d never really thought about how taxing it must be for the dancers. “Kook,” you begin, trailing off uncertainly when you realize you have absolutely no idea what to say.

“I’m fine,” he says, brushing you off with another smile. “Come on, let’s go shower.”

Dazedly, you allow him to guide you into the adjoining bathroom with a hand at the small of your back. He shucks off his jeans as you climb into the shower and turn on the water, joining you underneath the spray once it’s reached a comfortable temperature. Silently, you reach for the soap, watching as Jungkook grabs the travel-sized bottle of shampoo that he’s taken to keeping at your place. A few months into your arrangement and after many a late night rendezvous, you’d both agreed that it’d be far more convenient if he had some basic necessities here. And so, small bottles of Jungkook’s shampoo and body wash joined yours on the shelf, an extra towel hanging on the rod and ready for his use. Sometimes, he even joked that he should bring his razor, just in case he wound up staying the night.

But he never did, and you never asked. Somehow, it felt like crossing a line—and jeopardizing your friendly arrangement with the dark-haired young man is the last thing you want. Besides, you like having your bed to yourself, and Jungkook definitely seems like the type to sprawl out like a starfish in his sleep.

“Pass me the—?”

The last half of his request is lost to you in the sound of running water. “Huh?”

“The soap,” Jungkook repeats patiently, gently prying the slippery bar from between your fingers. “You were done, right?”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Gesturing for him to take your place under the spray, you begin lathering your hair with shampoo. Quietly, the two of you finish washing up, Jungkook turning off the water while you step out, grabbing your towel and tossing him his. Drying off your hair quickly, you wrap the soft cloth around your body and meander back into your bedroom in search for your pajamas.

By the time you manage to locate clean underwear and a large shirt to sleep in, Jungkook is stepping out of the bathroom, buttoning his jeans and buckling his belt. “Have you seen my shirt?” he asks.

Glancing around, you spot it lying near your desk. As you pick it up, your open chemistry book from earlier catches your attention, reminding you that you still have a few chapters’ worth of material to cram on tomorrow. “Here,” you say distractedly, tossing the white tee in his direction. He catches it deftly, smoothing out the wrinkled cotton before pulling it over his head.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you reply, still staring at your chemistry book and your scattered notes. “Don’t forget your bag on the way out.”

A beat of silence. Then Jungkook huffs, drawing your attention back to him. “What, not even gonna walk me to the door?”

You raise a brow. “What, did you forget where it is?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says solemnly. “Your tiny, one-bedroom apartment is a fucking labyrinth.”

Rolling your eyes, you gesture for him to follow you out and into the hallway. “You’re a dumbass,” you tell him, picking up his bag from the floor and shoving it into his waiting arms. “There. Happy?”

Jungkook slings the duffel over his shoulder. “Satisfied.”

You can only roll your eyes again, reaching for the doorknob and wrenching it open. “Whatever floats your boat, Kook. Now go away, I need to get some sleep.”

He rakes a hand through his damp hair and shoots you a playful wink. “Why sleep? Let me stay, and I’ll prove that there are way better things to do in a bed.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up from your chest, and Jungkook grins, looking very pleased with himself. “True as that may be,” you concede, “I have a final tomorrow and I still have studying to do.”

“Who’s the nerd now?” Jungkook quips, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs and a very unladylike snort from you.

“Still you, Iron Man wannabe.”

He snickers. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe. See you later?”

“Later,” you agree. Jungkook offers you one last grin before turning to leave, and you watch as he jabs the elevator button a few times before remembering that it’s out of order and walking over to the stairs instead. “Oh, and Jungkook?”

The dark-haired young man turns to regard you curiously, his hand on the doorknob of the stairwell entrance. “Yeah?”

You take in the creases of exhaustion lining his face, suddenly wishing that you could smooth them away with your fingertips. “Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

A grin splits across his face, breathtaking and brilliant. “Okay.”

///

You are in the middle of haphazardly shoving every notebook you own into your bag when your phone goes off, the vibration unnaturally loud in the silence of your bedroom. Grabbing the device off your nightstand, you glance at the screen, a laugh escaping when you read the message displayed there.

[11:37am] Jungkook: if I die in the next few days just know that Jung Hoseok is the murderer

Another message pops up below it just moments later:

[11:37am] Jungkook: I’m serious. He may look all innocent and happy but the guy’s a stone cold killer. Might kill jimin too while I’m at it, he’s just as bad sometimes

[11:38am] You: So dance practice is going well then

[11:38am] Jungkook: clearly lmao

[11:38am] Jungkook: anyway what are you up to?

You giggle. Obviously, he only wants to know whether or not you’re available for a romp in the sheets—maybe put his newly-discovered cum kink into action. At the thought, the ravenous expression he’d eyed you with last night springs to the forefront of your mind and you have to blink a few times to dispel the image.

[11:39am] You: Sorry babe, got my chem final in half an hour

His response is immediate.

[11:39am] Jungkook: fuck, that’s the one you’re really worried about isn’t it?

Surprised, you read his message twice before typing out an answer.

[11:40am] You: Yeah. You remembered that?

[11:40am] Jungkook: hey I may not be as smart as you but I do know some things

And then:

[11:41am] Jungkook: good luck, you’ll do great

Warmth bubbles up in your belly, winding through your ribcage and settling around your heart. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you sling your bag over your shoulder before heading out, his words echoing in your head. You’ll do great.

You hope he’s right.

///

“So, how was it?”

You shrug out of your jacket, letting it crumple carelessly onto the chair before taking a seat and fixing your best friend with a mock glare. “Jesus, can’t I at least sit down before you start the interrogation?”

Jisoo laughs and raises her mug of coffee to her mouth, batting her lashes innocently at you from behind it. “Who said this was an interrogation? If it were, I’d be harassing you about finally getting off your sorry ass and dating Jeon Jungkook already.”

“We are not going over this again,” you sigh, exasperated. “We’re just having fun and blowing off some steam, that’s all.”

“Right,” Jisoo says, setting down her coffee and fixing you with a knowing stare. “And you totally don’t have the hots for him, and he definitely doesn’t have the hots for you. Are you fucking blind, {Name}?”

You huff. “My vision is fine, thank you very much. And I don’t have the hots for Jungkook.”

Jisoo just laughs again, delicately selecting another sugar packet and tearing it open. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetie. But, fine, all right. Back to my original question, then: how was your final?”

Relief floods through you at the return of a subject you’re comfortable with. “It was okay, I think. What about yours? You had bio this morning, right?”

“Yeah.” Jisoo stirs her drink thoughtfully, lips pursed. “I think it went all right. I’m ready for the weekend to get here, though.”

“We’re almost there. Tomorrow’s Friday,” you say kindly before snatching her cup away and helping yourself to a sip. She squeals in protest and you laugh, returning the mug to its proper place by her elbow after another generous swallow of coffee. “You going to Neuron’s showcase on Saturday?”

“I don’t know anyone who isn’t going,” she replies with a pointed look, daintily picking up her mug and moving it out of your reach. “And you have to go. Support your boyfriend, and all that.”

“Not my boyfriend,” you say automatically.

“Not yet,” Jisoo corrects with a wry laugh. “Mark my words, {Name}, it’s going to happen sooner or later. You two already act like a couple anyway, so would it really be a big deal if you actually started dating him? Jungkook’s a great guy.”

“I know he is,” you sigh. “Which is exactly why I’m not going to risk our friendship by trying to make it into something more. Besides, he doesn’t want a relationship either.”

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Maybe not when you first met,” she concedes. “But a lot of things can change in a year, {Name}.”

“Not this,” you say stubbornly. “Not us.”

///

Three hours later, you are curled up on your couch with textbooks strewn around you, soft classical music floating from the speakers of the laptop balanced precariously on the armrest. A fresh notebook lays open on your lap, your pen scratching away as you slowly transcribe your electronic notes onto paper. The longer you work, however, the more the words on the screen begin to blur. After a fruitless minute of watching the black text swim unsteadily in front of your eyes, you heave a sigh and let your pen drop to the ground with a clatter.

Standing up, you are about to wander into the kitchen for a snack when there’s a knock on your door. Curiously, you approach and peer out the peephole, a smile breaking across your face when you see who is standing on the threshold. “Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask, swinging the door open to receive him.

Said man grins, raising a cardboard box in one hand and a tray with two paper cups in the other. “I come bearing gifts: pizza, coffee, and my dick if you want it,” he announces grandly, sweeping his arms out in a dramatic arc and sending the delicious smell of greasy cheese wafting your way.

You can only laugh at his dramatic declaration, gesturing for him to come in. “My three favorite things in one place? You’re a lifesaver, Kook.”

“Sure am,” he agrees cheerfully, following you into the kitchen and setting the food down on the counter. Immediately, you dive into the pizza box, ripping it open and tearing away a slice of cheesy goodness. Sinking your teeth in, you practically moan with delight, and Jungkook can only look on with amusement as he selects a piece for himself. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, then,” he remarks dryly, watching as you inhale the remainder of the slice.

You reach for one of the cups, washing down the grease with several gulps of hot coffee. “Considering how empty my refrigerator is right now, your guess is absolutely correct.”

Curiously, Jungkook opens the door of your fridge and pokes his head inside. “Have you considered maybe going grocery shopping to fix that problem?” he asks, voice echoing inside the cool space.

“I don’t have time,” you reply, ripping off another slice of pizza and taking an enormous bite.

“I don’t have time,” the dark-haired man mimics in a high-pitched warble, shutting the refrigerator door and joining you at the counter once more. “What’s with the pencil?”

You blink up at him, utterly bemused by the random question. “What?”

Jungkook reaches up, warm fingers brushing against your cheek as he tugs a yellow number two pencil from behind your ear. “This. Who the fuck still uses these? Everyone knows that mechanical pencils are way better.”

“Hey!” you protest. “They’re perfectly good pencils, and I like them!” Jumping up, you try to snatch the pencil away, but Jungkook only holds it up and out of your reach, his chest rumbling with laughter when you flounder against his taller frame uselessly. Pouting, you give him your most pitiful look, complete with fluttering eyelashes and clasped hands. “Jungkook, please give it back? I’ve been searching for it all afternoon!”

He cocks his head, lowering it slowly into your grasp. “All afternoon? Aren’t you done with your chem final?” Then something seems to click, his eyes narrowing. “You’re still studying?”

You drop your petulant expression and raise a brow, tucking the pencil back behind your ear for safekeeping. “I do have more than one final exam, you know.”

That earns you an eye-roll. “You work too hard.”

Before you can think of an adequate retort, Jungkook wolfs down the remainder of his pizza and grabs the open box. Walking out of your tiny kitchen, he starts in the direction of your living room before backtracking and poking his head back around the doorway.

“Grab the coffee, will you?” he asks between chews, his cheeks puffy.

“Ew, swallow before you speak, you heathen,” you reply, wrinkling your nose in distaste. Nevertheless, you pick up the two cups and follow your companion to the couch, watching as he carefully gathers your strewn notes into neat piles. You move your laptop—still playing soft strains of Stravinsky—to the coffee table, snatching up another slice of pizza before plopping down onto the couch. “So, what brings you to my humble abode?” you inquire curiously, glancing at the dark-haired  man who is making himself comfortable on the other end of the couch. “Besides trying to force your dick on me, that is.”

“Hey, I’ve never forced it on anyone,” Jungkook defends immediately. “Besides, you just told me that my dick is one of your three favorite things. No take-backsies.”

“No take-backsies?” you ask in disbelief. “Jesus, I can’t believe you just said that. Remind me why the fuck I’m sleeping with you again?”

“Because you need regular orgasms, and I’m willing and able to deliver,” Jungkook says smugly, munching on his pizza crust.

You snort, thwacking him on the arm. “Oh, please. This is a mutually beneficial relationship and you know it.”

He simply cackles in response, plucking up another cheesy slice before relaxing back against the cushions and slinging an arm over the backrest. The two of you eat in amicable silence for a few minutes with Tchaikovsky playing from your laptop speakers, the music broken only by the sound of soft chewing and the occasional sip of coffee.

It’s comfortable—spending time with Jungkook like this. In the last year, he’s rooted himself firmly in your life and your heart, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s become one of your closest friends. He’s kind, dependable, and ridiculously handsome—even with his cheeks bulging and pizza grease staining his chin. His sense of humor meshes perfectly with yours, and he knows your body almost better than you do. Just the thought of losing him is devastating—which is why you repress the tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that you’re already in too deep, and will your heart back into a regular rhythm whenever he looks at you with too much warmth sparkling in the brown of his eyes.

You’re friends. Just friends. Neither of you have the time—or the desire—for anything more.

“Hey, I never asked—how was your test?”

The soft question pulls you out of your reverie. “What?”

“Earth to {Name},” Jungkook says with a laugh, waving a hand in front of your eyes. “Your chem final, dummy. How’d it go?”

“Oh.” You think back to the two-hour exam, a frown pulling at your lips. “It was… all right, I think.”

“All right?” Jungkook echoes skeptically, raising a brow. “You really should give yourself more credit—you worked your ass off studying for that final.”

“I know,” you sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions and staring up at the hairline crack running along the ceiling. “I just don’t feel like I did enough.”

Jungkook takes another bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “Were there any questions you didn’t know how to answer?”

“No,” you admit.

He chuckles and pokes your cheek gently, making you look at him. “Then you’re fine! Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, retaliating by flicking his nose. “I’ve seen you during dance practice. You’re just as bad as I am.”

Jungkook wags a knowing finger. “But unlike you, I know when to take a break. Like right now, for example.” Grabbing the pizza box from the coffee table, he extends it to you like a peace offering. “Here. Eat the last slice and relax a little.”

You stare down at the remaining wedge, surprise etching its way across your face. “You… you don’t want it?”

He shrugs. “Nah, I’ve already had four. Besides, I’m not that hungry.”

“Jungkook, I’ve seen you put away an entire family-size bag of chips and six cups of ramen as an afternoon snack,” you point out. “On multiple occasions. There’s no way you’re not hungry.”

A huff of laughter escapes him, lips curling up into a grin that shows his prominent teeth. “Fine, you got me. Split it?”

“I’ll get a knife,” you agree, moving to stand up, but Jungkook wraps a strong hand around your wrist and stops you in your tracks.

“Why bother?” he asks, chomping off the slice’s pointed tip before handing it to you. “We can just take turns. It’s not like we haven’t exchanged bodily fluids before.”

You splutter out an incredulous laugh, but accept the pizza nonetheless. “Why are you so disgusting?”

“Hey, sex is a beautiful and natural thing!” Jungkook protests, a satisfied grin crinkling his face when you laugh again. “And we’re pretty damn good at it.”

You shake your head when he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, still chuckling. “You’re not gonna talk me into getting dicked down tonight, Jeon. I still have studying to do.” Taking one final bite of pizza, you extend it back toward your companion. “Here, finish this.”

Jungkook accepts the half-eaten slice and takes a bite. “Didn’t I just spend the last half hour telling you to stop studying?”

“Yes,” you say, standing up to collect the empty box and cups. Your companion trails you into the kitchen with crust still dangling from his mouth, watching as you break down the cardboard and shove it in the trash bin. “And I didn’t study for that whole half hour, so technically I did as you said and took a break.”

“Thazznawdalonnh,” Jungkook says around a mouthful of dough. You raise your eyebrows at him, and a smile twitches at the corner of his lips as he swallows and tries again. “That’s not that long. Of a break, I mean. Aren’t the rest of your exams next week anyway?”

“Yeah, but I have a lab report due tomorrow,” you reply, brushing past him to return to the living room. “Which I’ve barely started, thanks to today’s exam.” Collapsing back onto the couch, you gather up your notes and plop your laptop down onto your lap, waking up the screen. Your music resumes playing as you open up a fresh document, and Jungkook joins you a few seconds later with his black duffel in hand, dropping it on the ground as he takes a seat. You glance at him curiously as he begins pulling books from within, setting them on the coffee table before taking out his own laptop and booting it up. “Kook? What are you doing?”

He opens up one of the notebooks, his forehead creasing in concentration as he skims the contents within. “Studying, what else? I have finals too, you know.”

“But you never study,” you protest, confused.

He glances up, one dark eyebrow disappearing into his hair. “It’s cute that you think I’m some kind of academic whiz, babe, but unfortunately I’m not. Now hush, I’m trying to read.”

With that, he immerses himself back in his book, but you don’t miss the tiny smile that lingers on his lips. Shaking your head, you turn back to your own laptop and begin typing, the clatter of your keyboard and the rustling of Jungkook’s notes melding perfectly with the dulcet sounds of Vivaldi.

///

Friday afternoon finds you at the library, hunched over your laptop at a tiny, secluded table shoved halfway behind a shelf full of geography books. You’ve been sitting in the same place for nearly five hours now, and the hushed, monotonous atmosphere is beginning to drive you insane. Exhaling heavily, you let your head drop, hitting the table with a quiet thunk.

Unbidden, Jungkook’s face materializes in your mind’s eye. Tousled black hair falls into a face crinkled with mirth, his laughter clear and melodious as he lounges on the couch beside you, cracking inane jokes. You imagine the shape of his grinning mouth and scrunched nose, picture the way his eyes crease into crescents.

And then the image shifts. Jungkook’s eyes darken, his body shifting closer. You can feel the warmth of his lips on yours, imagine the exact way he would slip his hand into the waistband of your panties. There’s a damp spot growing in your actual panties by this point, and as your thoughts turn increasingly sordid, you find yourself scrambling for your phone and pulling up your messages.

[6:46pm] You: I wish I’d taken you up on your offer last night

Putting down the device, you try to refocus your attention on your notes as you wait for him to respond. After a few minutes of unsuccessful reading and no new messages, however, you grow impatient.

[6:49pm] You: all I can think about right now is how good you feel inside me

[6:49pm] You: And how I should’ve crawled onto your lap and sat on your cock yesterday

This time, your phone buzzes with an incoming text before you can even set it down.

[6:49pm] Jungkook: wow babe

[6:49pm] Jungkook: you’re really missing me huh? Fuck I wish I were there right now

His words stoke the fire inside you, pure want simmering in your belly and trickling down to your core.

[6:50pm] You: then come find me. I’m on the 4th floor of the library, what’s stopping you?

[6:50pm] Jungkook: Ugh, I have practice. I’m gonna kill Hoseok and Jimin I swear

Three dots appear at the bottom of your screen, indicating that he’s still typing. And then his new message pops up, the words sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

[6:50pm] Jungkook: god I wanna be inside you so bad

You can no longer contain your smirk, devious fingers already typing out an incendiary answer. Want you inside me too, baby. I’m so wet right now, you have no idea. I’m thinking about going into the bathroom and touching myself.

Almost immediately after pressing ‘send’, you see the telltale ellipses spring up at the bottom of your screen.

[6:51pm] Jungkook: fuck. Fuck fuck fuck

[6:51pm] Jungkook: you absolute goddamn tease

[6:51pm] Jungkook: do it. I dare you.

Your smirk widens, turning downright sinful. Oh, baby, I already am, you reply. Not quite true, perhaps, but you waste no time between pressing send and standing up, winding your way through the maze of bookshelves to the restroom on the other side of the library. It is thankfully empty upon arrival, and you immediately lock yourself in the stall furthest from the entrance, leaning against the door and checking your phone for Jungkook’s response. Right away, you realize that it must be a long message, because the preview on your lockscreen cuts off mid-sentence. And when you finally unlock the device and open up the full text, a delighted peal of laughter bubbles up from your chest and escapes into the open air.

[6:52pm] Jungkook: no you’re not. Are you? Jesus. fuck babe, you’re killing me. You’ve somehow beat jung hoseok to murdering me and now I must be in hell because all I want is to go over there and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name

[6:52pm] Jungkook: are you really in the bathroom right now??

Still giggling, you open up your camera, angling the screen so that it captures the telltale navy walls of the stall you’re standing in. Adopting a mischievous smirk, you tug your bottom lip coyly between your teeth and hike the hem of your shirt up to expose a tantalizing flash of skin. Your free hand snakes into the waistband of your jeans, now unbuttoned just enough to see a glimpse of the lace underneath. Snapping the photo, you send it off with just one sentence: What do you think?

His response is near instantaneous.

[6:54pm] Jungkook: damn it

[6:54pm] Jungkook: you’re really trying to ruin me aren’t you

He really is far too easy to rile up sometimes, you think with a grin. But you certainly aren’t complaining—not when heat is still curling in the pit of your tummy and the spot on your panties is growing increasingly damp. I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do know that your fingers would feel so much better than mine right now.

[6:54pm] Jungkook: fuck, baby. Tell me what you’re doing

You wriggle your jeans down your hips and let your fingers trail downward, drawing light circles around your lace-covered clit. Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do instead?

[6:55pm] Jungkook: so that’s how you wanna play, huh

[6:55pm] Jungkook: i like your panties, by the way. sexy. why don’t you slip your hand inside them and touch your clit for me?

Your breath catches in your throat when you follow his directions, the pads of your fingers sliding through the gathered slickness between your thighs with ease.

[6:55pm] Jungkook: are you pretending it’s my hand instead?

[6:55pm] You: of course

And it’s true. You can picture the wicked tilt of his lips, can practically feel the warmth of his body caging you against the cool wall, one hand anchoring at your hip while the other rubs hard circles against your sensitive bud.

[6:56pm] Jungkook: good. god, I wish I were there. Slide two fingers into that sweet little pussy of yours and pretend it’s my cock filling you up instead

Clearly, Jungkook is in no mood to tease. Exhaling shakily, you do as he commands, savoring the feeling of your walls molding to the shape of your fingers. You dig in as deep as possible, head falling back against the wall as you raise your phone again.

[6:56pm] You: now what?

[6:56pm] Jungkook: move them. Slowly. And tell me what you’re thinking about

Your mental picture of the dark-haired man returns, imaginary hands sliding down to cup the sumptuous curve of your bottom as he lifts you effortlessly and pins you in place with his hips.

[6:57pm] You: thinking about you pinning me against the wall of this stall

[6:57pm] You: your pretty cock stretching me open

Letting out a soft whimper, you pick up the pace, thumb flicking over your clit in frenzied strokes. The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

[6:57pm] Jungkook: fuck, babe. What else?

[6:58pm] You: ypour mouth on my neck

[6:58pm] Jungkook: want me to bruise you up all nice and pretty? Mark you as mine?

You barely manage to type out a coherent answer.

[6:58pm] You: g od yess

[6:59pm] You: nd fill me up with your cum

[6:59pm] Jungkook: christ. You filthy thing. You perfect pretty little tease, I’m gonna have you six ways from sunday when i get my hands on you

[6:59pm] Jungkook: fuck. I gotta go hobi’s starting warmups and I’m still half hard

[7:00pm] Jungkook: talk to you later. Think of me when you cum, okay?

His last few messages arrive in quick succession, a disbelieving huff escaping your lips when you read through them. Your orgasm—so close just moments ago—suddenly seems miles away. But his last message is still lighting up the screen of your phone, and so, with the thought of a half-hard Jungkook in mind, you let your fantasy take over again.

If Jungkook were here, he would be pressing even more urgently against you, hips snapping against yours as his thumb rubs hard circles into your clit. His mouth would be brushing along the column of your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin of your collarbone and the sensitive spot just below your ear. His thrusts would become sloppy as he nears the edge, and—

—It’s not the most satisfying orgasm you’ve ever had, pressed up against the metal wall of your university library’s bathroom, but it’s enough for now.

Besides, you still have a lab report to finish.

///

Ten o’clock comes and goes. Your keyboard clatters underneath your fingertips as you put the finishing touches on your report, scanning your conclusion for any errors before leaning back with a relieved sigh. It takes only a few more seconds to save your work and send the document to your professor. By the time you pack up your materials and head for the library doors—shooting an sympathetic look at any stragglers who remain—it’s ten-fifteen, and you are more than ready to head home and crawl underneath the fluffiest blanket you own.

Stepping outside, you suppress a shiver. Even though it’s springtime, the evenings are still rather chilly once the sun sets, and you curse when you realize you’ve forgotten to bring a sweater. Hiking your bag a little higher on your shoulder, you steel yourself for the trek back to your apartment. Every breeze raises gooseflesh on your skin, but you just walk faster, thinking about the hot cocoa packets stuffed away in one of your kitchen cabinets.

As you turn the corner, the performing arts building comes into view, glimmering in the darkness like a beacon. Low music thumps from within, and you wonder briefly at the sound before remembering Jungkook’s recent complaints about his long hours spent at the dance studio. Curiosity overcomes you and draws you closer, the music growing louder as soon as you step inside the building. Following the sound to a set of double doors at the very end of a dimly-lit hall, you debate briefly whether or not to knock before throwing all caution to the wind and pushing open the unlocked door.

The first sight that greets you is yourself, reflected in the long paneled mirror that stretches the length of the entire wall. A few chairs line the perimeter of the room and you immediately spot Jungkook’s duffel bag sitting on top of one of them, the sleeve of one of his many black sweatshirts poking out from the unzipped opening. The man himself is on the other end of the room, flanked on either side by two figures you recognize as Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok. None of them have noticed your presence yet—all three are immersed in the low, seductive beat still pounding from the speakers, perfectly in sync as they dance. Every movement is mesmerizing, flowing easily into the next as Jimin takes a running start and leaps over Jungkook to take center stage for his solo.

“Okay—cut!” Hoseok calls, raising a hand. “That was a lot better, nice job. Jungkook, just be sure to watch your hand movements during that last eight; you’re faltering a little when Jimin jumps. And Jimin, you’re still hesitating half a beat before the jump, so just speed that up and we should be good.”

Jimin nods wearily, raking his blond hair out of his face. “Got it.” Behind him, Jungkook stares at his hands for a full five seconds before repeating the section of the dance that Hoseok had specified, his shoes squeaking in protest against the hardwood.

Hoseok eyes him critically. “Yeah, that looks good. Cool. Should we run through the last song again?”

“Honestly, Hobi, I think we’re all pretty beat,” Jimin says, his head lolling against his shoulder. “We’ve been at this for over three hours now.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, swinging his arms overhead and shaking out his muscles. “Yeah, I think it might be time to call it quits for the day.” Then his gaze flickers up, catching sight of your reflection in the mirrors. “{Name}?”

Your face flushes at being caught. “H-hey.”

His mouth lifts into a smile, tired but bright. “Hey yourself. Waiting for me?”

You glance at Hoseok and Jimin before returning your attention to the dark-haired man. “Just poking my head in. I don’t want to interrupt or rush you, or anything.”

Hoseok grins, shaking his head. “Nah, you’re fine. I think we’re pretty much done here, anyway. We’ll just grab some water and cool down, and then you’re free to take him for the night.” He claps Jungkook on the back, and the two of them head for the water cooler in the corner of the room, conversing quietly.

Jimin chooses that moment to step forward, flashing you a crooked smirk. “Take him for the night, huh? Lucky guy, getting to go home with such a pretty girl.” He eyes you up and down, making no move to hide it, and you raise a brow at his boldness. The blond-haired man is a notorious playboy—well-known around campus for his various escapades and his reputation as a heartbreaker—but you’re still rather surprised that he’d hit on you so blatantly with Hoseok and Jungkook still in the room.

“Settle down, Park. Don’t you have some stretches to be doing?” You nod at Hoseok, who is now seated on the floor and reaching for his toes.

The blond man grins. “The only kind of stretch I want to be doing is stretching you open with my co—“

“You sure you want to finish that sentence?” A heavy weight settles across your shoulders, and you turn to see that Jungkook has draped his arm over you, his dark eyes glittering.

Jimin has the audacity to laugh aloud, honey brown eyes crinkling into gleeful crescents. “What? Can’t handle a little competition, Jungkookie?”

The dark-haired man rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Jimin.”

“Fuck off?” Jimin steps closer, tilting his head in a perfect picture of mock innocence as his fingers find your chin, forcing your gazes to meet. “From what I recall, {Name} definitely wanted to be fucked earlier. What were her exact words—oh, something about a pretty cock stretching her open?” A grin splits across his face, wide and mischievous. “And believe me, princess, I’ve been told I have a very pretty cock.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide, abject horror painted across every feature. “What the fuck, Jimin? How—how the fuck did you…?!” His spluttering trails off into dismayed silence, his breathing quick and sharp.

You, however, do not hesitate to wrench away from Jimin’s grasp, your open palm colliding with the soft flesh of his cheek. The slap echoes in the empty silence of the dance studio, and Jimin touches the angry red handprint on his face gingerly before smirking up at you.

“Feisty, huh? That’s okay, I don’t mind it a little rough.”

It’s probably a good thing that Hoseok is already gone, because the litany of curses that leaves Jungkook’s mouth is surely something that would get him in trouble with the red-haired dance captain. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jimin, what the hell is wrong with you? And why the fuck were you reading my goddamn texts?!”

Jimin finally takes a step back, the salacious smirk dropping off his face as he puts his hands up in surrender. “To be fair, I didn’t mean to,” he says. “But you were being weird, sitting by yourself in the corner before practice started, so I got curious. And then I saw your phone’s screen in the mirror, and—“

“Shit, the mirrors,” Jungkook interrupts, sounding utterly defeated. “Goddamnit. Fuck, {Name}, I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Kook,” you reassure, patting his shoulder gently. “Park, here, on the other hand…”

The blond-haired man at least has the decency to look somewhat abashed. “I am sorry, just for the record. I really didn’t mean to read your messages, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad I did.” Jimin grins, boldly shooting you a flagrant wink and a smirk. “My offer still stands, you know, if Jeon isn’t up to the task tonight.”

Jungkook’s arm tightens around you. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one day, Park?”

Jimin throws his head back and laughs, far too hard for your liking. “What’s the matter, Jungkook? Afraid I’ll get her off faster than you?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Jungkook’s eyes narrow to slits, and you watch as his mouth twists into a dangerous scowl. “In your dreams, asshat.”

“In my dreams?” Jimin chuckles, stepping forward and throwing a jovial arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. “Doesn’t have to be.” Then he turns to you, shooting you another wink. “What do you say, princess? Care to find out who can make you feel better?”

It should be easy to say no—should be simple to tell Jimin to go fuck himself and go home with Jungkook as you have so many times before. But there’s a tingle in the pit of your belly, something dark and insatiable that croons obscene suggestions that refuse to be drowned out by logic or reason. Beside you, Jungkook’s jaw is clenched, and you recognize the competitive glint burning in his gaze immediately. The dark-haired young man isn’t one to back away from a challenge, and you know from experience just how easy it can be to rile him up. And it seems Jimin knows it, too, if the triumphant smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“{Name},” Jungkook says, releasing you from his hold only to spin you toward him and cup your cheeks instead. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I can just take you home—“

You cut him off with a finger, pressing insistently against his soft lips. “Take me home,” you murmur. “But we’re bringing this fucker along, too. I bet he’s all talk.” You nod in Jimin’s direction.

Jungkook’s face dissolves into mirth, a hearty cackle escaping his lips. “You know what? So do I.” He turns to the other man, quirking a brow. “Well? You still coming?”

Jimin grins. “I think we’ll all be coming tonight.”

“No thanks to you,” Jungkook quips, grinning when you giggle. Then he’s strolling off to grab his bag, with Jimin following suit and gathering up his belongings as well. As he bends down to pick his water bottle up from the ground, you can’t help but check him out—something he notices right away and remarks upon with a sly grin once he straightens up again.

“Enjoying the view, princess?”

Warmth blossoms across your cheeks. “I’m just trying to see what all the girls see in you.”

Jimin steps forward, stopping only when he’s mere inches away. “And?” he breathes.

This close to him, you can see the flecks of amber dancing in his honey brown irises. “Not impressed,” you lie.

The amused tilt of his head makes it clear that he doesn’t believe you, and you flush when his hand comes up to pat your cheek. “You’re cute,” he chuckles, brushing the pad of his thumb along the skin below your right eye. Then he turns away and begins shoving the rest of his things in his bag, whistling cheerily under his breath.

“Thanks, I think,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“You’re welcome, I guess?”

Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, two strong arms winding their way around your waist and tugging you into a warm, familiar chest. “Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, you know,” he murmurs into your ear, hot breath caressing your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Good thing I was talking to Jimin, then,” you whisper back, craning your head so that you can look him in the eye.

He hums. “So you’re getting along.”

“As much as a girl can actually get along with Park Jimin,” you reply with a laugh. “Hey, you ready to go?”

He nods, dark hair bobbing. “Yeah.” Releasing you from his embrace, he keeps one arm slung around your waist as he turns toward the door, Jimin sauntering up to join you on your other side. Together the three of you head for the building’s exit, and when Jungkook pushes open the front door with his free hand, you shiver at the sudden burst of chilly air.

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out the black sweatshirt you’d spotted earlier, releasing his grip on your waist to drape it over your shoulders. You thank him with a smile, slipping your arms into the sleeves and giggling at how it dwarfs your smaller frame. Jungkook seizes the opportunity to playfully pull the hood over your head, tugging it down until it covers your eyes and breaking out into laughter when you whack him with your overly long sleeves in retaliation. With him distracted and you temporarily blind, neither of you see the knowing smile that curls Jimin’s lips.

The remainder of the walk to your apartment passes in mostly companionable silence. Jungkook and Jimin occasionally fall to bickering, but despite the high tensions earlier, it’s clear that the two are good friends. And you’re more than happy to walk between them quietly, bundled in Jungkook’s warm sweatshirt and listening to them talk about their upcoming performance.

“I don’t know, man, I always feel off during that second song,” Jungkook says, raking a hand through his hair and ruffling it even further. “I just can’t seem to get into the right rhythm.”

Jimin snickers and shoots you a sideways glance. “I hope you have better rhythm with {Name}, otherwise this night is going to be very disappointing.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m being serious, here.”

“Okay, you want me to be serious?” Jimin asks, reaching over and giving the younger man a reproving nudge. “You’re not off; you’re just getting in your own head.”

“That sounds like Kook,” you pipe up, pulling out your keys as your apartment complex comes into view. “Instead of getting in your own head, why don’t you relax and let me give you head?”

Jimin lets out a delighted laugh and raises his hand for a high-five, which you happily give him as the three of you step into the lobby of your building. “That was fucking amazing,” he declares, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Absolutely incredible. I think I just fell in love.”

On your other side, Jungkook is shaking his head in exasperation, mumbling something about god there’s two of them under his breath while jabbing the elevator button. The three of you pile inside as soon as it arrives, with Jimin still chortling quietly at your joke.

Jungkook takes the lead when the elevator doors slide open again, gently prying your keys from your hand. Striding down the hall, he comes to a stop in front of your door and shifts his gaze to you. His brown eyes regard you carefully, and you know that this is his way of giving you one last chance to say no.

But you don’t want to say no. Heat has been simmering in your belly ever since you left the dance studio, and now that your front door is the only obstacle between you and whatever the night may bring, it flares up, growing hotter and more insistent. You meet Jungkook’s gaze and nod.

He inclines his head and inserts the key into the lock, turning until it clicks. The door swings open.

The atmosphere shifts as soon as you cross the threshold, all jokes and jabs dissipating to leave only a thick, palpable tension. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment when Jungkook’s gaze darkened into obsidian or when Jimin’s hand found its way to the curve of your ass. All you know is that the air is positively crackling with hidden energy, sizzling and electric, and that the two men on either side of you are undoubtedly the source.

Jungkook kisses you first. His mouth brushes against yours briefly before descending down the column of your throat, tongue and teeth laving against your skin. Strong hands settle on your hips, guiding you backwards down the hall and into the living room until you find yourself being pressed down onto a firm surface, a second pair of hands joining Jungkook’s curled around your waist.

Turning around, you meet Jimin’s amused gaze, belatedly realizing that you are seated firmly in his lap. A soft laugh escapes him as he takes in your surprised expression, his fingers crawling down the expanse of your stomach to linger near the hem of your shirt, toying with the thin fabric. “I can kiss you, right?” he murmurs, leaning in close.

If you even so much as nod, your lips would meet his. “Yes,” you breathe, not daring to look away.

Jimin smiles crookedly. “Good.” And then he closes the gap.

Kissing Jimin is different. His lips are fuller than Jungkook’s, his movements more languid. One of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, gentle but firm. The other slips underneath your shirt, rubbing tantalizing circles into your hip, and when it ventures farther up and trails along the seam of your bra, you break the kiss with a gasp.

“Still okay, princess?” Jimin murmurs softly.

“Still okay,” you confirm, sucking in a deep breath and shifting around until you are facing him, your legs straddling his thighs. Leaning forward, you kiss him again, and this time his tongue finds its way past your lips and flicks gently against yours. He explores your mouth thoroughly—hungrily—and by the time you break apart, both of you are gasping for air.

Jungkook’s hands return then, grasping at the thin material of your shirt before pulling it up and off entirely. Your arms settle back around Jimin’s shoulders, his brown eyes raking appreciatively across your figure as Jungkook lays a trail of soft kisses along your spine before coming to a stop at your bra.

“Wait a sec,” he mutters, pinching the elastic stretched across your back between two fingers. “How the fuck do you get this thing off?”

It takes you a good second to process his confused question, but once you do, you can’t stop the peal of laughter that escapes you. Jimin echoes your hilarity, snickering wildly as he fights to answer Jungkook. “Jesus, Jeon,” he manages after a few seconds, sucking in a lungful of air. “You’re adorable. Haven’t you ever seen a bra with a front clasp before?” As if to emphasize his point, he reaches for the clasp nestled between your breasts, popping it open smoothly.

Jungkook watches as the cups fall to either side of your body, your nipples hardening at the sudden exposure to the open air. “Oh, fuck off,” he grumbles, tugging the garment down and off your arms.

Jimin finally curbs his chuckles and returns his attention to you, squeezing at the twin swells of your breasts before tweaking the sensitive peaks. “Shit, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, leaning down to mouth at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “How has Jeon kept you to himself for this long?”

You aren’t given the opportunity to respond, for Jungkook chooses that moment to mold his mouth to yours. His tongue slips past your lips, slick and familiar, and you moan into the kiss as his hands slide down your sides and anchor at your hips.

Jimin hums from where he’s sucking a purple bruise into the thin skin above your clavicle, laving across the tender skin before leaning back to survey his work. “Jungkook. Let’s get her jeans off, shall we?”

You gasp for air when the dark-haired man finally pulls back, his fingers sliding around to pop open the button and slide down the zipper. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teases, gently urging you off Jimin’s lap so he can wriggle the jeans down your thighs, your panties disappearing right alongside the denim.

“How is this fair?” you protest, suddenly very aware of how naked you are before the two men. “Neither of you have taken anything off yet.”

“So impatient,” Jimin chortles, straightening up and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. In one smooth motion, he’s pulled it off, baring the smooth expanse of his toned torso. “Is that better, princess?”

You drink in each dip and ridge of muscle, following the defined lines of his pelvic bones to where they disappear into the waistband of his ripped jeans. “Better,” you confirm, flashing him a wink and a grin before turning your sights to the other man in the room. “Your turn, Jeon.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jungkook gives you a playful salute before shedding his shirt as well, grabbing it by the back of the collar and tugging it over his head. Flinging it onto the growing pile of clothes on the ground, he closes the distance between you and crushes his mouth to yours in another searing kiss. His warm hands find purchase on your shoulders, smoothing along the bony ridges of your clavicle before dipping down to grasp the curve of your waist, and you can’t help but melt into his embrace. Your fingers fly up to tangle in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until you are molded against his bare chest, soft curves meshing perfectly with the hard planes of his torso.

The dark-haired man is in the middle of determinedly mapping out every inch of your mouth with his tongue when Jimin rises to his feet and presses himself against your back, his hands sliding down to the curve of your ass and giving the flesh a playful squeeze. “Being a little selfish, aren’t we, Jeon?” he murmurs, mouth at your ear.

Gasping, you break away from Jungkook. “Jimin!”

Said man presses a little closer, and your eyes widen when you feel his hardening length twitch against your thigh. “Screaming my name already?” he asks with a chuckle, his fingers now traversing the length of your spine.

You shiver at the gentle touch. “D-don’t get too used to it.”

Jimin’s entire face crinkles in glee, honey brown eyes disappearing into twin crescents. “Fuck, you’re really something else,” he chortles, nipping at your earlobe. “What are you going to do when I make you eat your words?”

Jungkook snickers and plants an affectionate kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away. “You sure you’re up to the task, Park?” he challenges. Nudging Jimin aside, he gently presses you backward until he can safely lower you down onto the plushy couch cushions.

The blond man simply grins and steps forward, jostling Jungkook away before he can make himself comfortable between your legs. “Why don’t you save the trash talk and let me take it from here?” he asks playfully, dropping to his knees. Warm hands settle on your thighs, urging your legs apart, and you watch as his tongue darts out to moisten his lips once you’re fully spread before him. “Fuck,” Jimin rasps, his voice dropping several pitches. “I bet you taste so sweet.”

“She does.” Jungkook’s voice comes from above you, and when your head lolls back onto the backrest, you see that the dark-haired man has stepped around to the other side of the couch, standing behind you with his fingers trailing random patterns across your bare shoulders. Every movement leaves gooseflesh and pinpricks dancing in its wake, and you shiver when he suddenly descends farther to mold his hands around your breasts.

“Fuck, Jungkoo—oh!”

A sudden flare of heat against your clit has you gasping and tearing your gaze away from the young man hovering above you. A glance down the length of your body reveals that Jimin has chosen that moment to bury his face between your legs, only his honey brown eyes visible above your mound. “Eyes on me, princess,” he commands huskily, raising his head just enough to give you a perfect view of his tongue tracing a sensuous trail across his plushy bottom lip. Then he’s dipping down to blow another cheeky puff of hot air against your core, and this time you can’t help the way your hips automatically cant up toward his mouth for something more substantial.

Jimin is more than happy to comply with your desires. His hands slide up your thighs slowly, heavy gaze never once leaving yours as he presses a kiss to the soft skin just above your mound. Then he’s sliding down, pink tongue flicking against your clit before plunging inside your weeping entrance for a taste.

“You’re right, she is sweet,” he purrs, pulling away briefly to wink at Jungkook. “So fucking sweet.”

You don’t have a chance to glance back for the dark-haired man’s reaction before Jimin returns his attention to you and delivers a playful nip to your inner thigh. The sudden sharpness of his teeth against the delicate skin sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and instinct sends your fingers flying up to wind through his silky golden hair. A crooked smirk etches across the blond man’s handsome face, and you can practically see the gears turning wickedly in his head when you stammer out a breathy, “O-oh god.”

“You liked that, huh?” Jimin slides two fingers through the slickness gathering between your legs, waggling them playfully in Jungkook’s direction before licking them clean. “I think Jeon liked it too. You doing okay back there, bud?”

With a start, you realize you hadn’t noticed when Jungkook’s hands left your body, but when you tilt your head back, you see the exact reason for their disappearance. The dark-haired young man is standing just behind your sprawled figure, his belt undone and jeans pushed down just enough to free his cock. One hand is wrapped firmly around his length, thumb flicking across the head, and a low groan escapes him when he notices you watching.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, tongue darting out to moisten your lips at the sight. “Why don’t you let me help you out a little?”

The words have barely left your mouth when Jimin suddenly tightens his grip on your thighs, taking your clit into his mouth and giving it a punishingly hard suck.

“Jimin!” you gasp, jolting in his grasp at the sudden burst of aching pleasure.

The blond man’s resulting smile could put Wonderland’s infamous feline to shame. “That’s more like it,” he croons, trailing his index finger along your drenched folds and chuckling when you squirm beneath him. “You sound so good moaning my name, princess.”

Your fingers tighten in his golden hair when he leans forward to bury his face between your legs once more, his name floating from your lips a second time when his wet tongue darts out to lave insistently at your core. Your tummy tenses under the sudden onslaught of pleasure, your thighs tightening around Jimin’s head as his questing tongue delves inside you experimentally. Seconds later, his fingers join in, two digits stretching you open as his mouth latches onto your clit with earnest.

“Who’s being selfish now?” Jungkook’s voice comes from somewhere above you, and a moment later his face appears in your peripheral vision, hovering above your prone body as he leans over the backrest to press an upside-down kiss to your mouth. Both hands wander down past your clavicle to squeeze your breasts, drawing a shudder from you when he begins rubbing slow, deliberate circles around the sensitive peaks.

“L-let me suck you off,” you offer, your voice coming out in little more than a breathy stammer. “I did—ah—tell you to relax and let me give you head, didn’t I?”

The dark-haired man shifts his attention to your neck—soft lips ghosting along the column of your throat—and you immediately tilt your head to give him better access. “You did,” he murmurs between open-mouthed kisses, warm breath sending gooseflesh and pinpricks dancing along your skin. “And you know how much I love your mouth, babe.”

You gasp when his teeth suddenly sink into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, turning into a moan when he begins to suckle at the bruised flesh. At the same time, Jimin begins to lap at you again, licking deliberate stripes along your entrance that end with teasing flicks on your clit. “O-oh fuck,” you say shakily, fighting to maintain your train of thought as heat simmers in your belly. “Fuck. Let me make you feel good too, baby.”

Jungkook lets out a hoarse groan at your incendiary words, nipping at your neck one last time before soothing the bite with his tongue and straightening up to his full height. One hand descends to wrap around his hard cock, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he takes in the way you’re sprawled across the couch, your vision turned upside-down with the way your neck is arched over the edge of the backrest. After a few moments of deliberation, he carefully reaches out, brushing his thumb along the seam of your lips and urging them apart.

You are more than happy to comply, letting your jaw fall slack as he positions the head and begins to press forward into your mouth. Every move is slow and gentle, your heart swelling at his mindfulness as he gives you ample time to adjust to his girth and stops just short of the back of your throat.

“Doing okay, baby?” he murmurs softly, cupping your cheek.

You hum in affirmation, eyes fluttering shut under the gentle touch. Jungkook groans at the resulting vibration, his hips stuttering forward—and you immediately suck in a quick breath before relaxing your throat for the familiar intrusion.

The sound that Jungkook makes when he bottoms out is positively cavernous, rumbling through his chest. “Fuck, baby,” he hisses, the strain evident in his voice. “God, you feel fucking incredible.”

Heat curls at the base of your spine, crawling up and flaring outward. Reaching around, you curl your fingers around the backs of his thighs, smoothing along the tensed muscles to reassure him that he can begin moving. At the same time, you swallow around the head of his cock, eliciting a sharp gasp and a startled rock of his hips. The sudden surge forward has you spluttering to fight your gag reflex into submission, and you feel Jungkook begin to pull out before you squeeze his thigh again to keep him in place.

It takes a reassuring hum and several languid licks along the vein traversing the underside of his cock to reassure Jungkook that you’re okay to continue, but when you swallow around him again, something in him seems to snap. He surges forward until his hips are flush against your chin, and each subsequent thrust has you stretching out, desperate to open up more of your body for him to possess. “Christ,” he grits out, his fingers wrapping loosely around your throat and increasing the pressure on his cock lodged within. “God, {Name}.”

Jimin chooses that moment to renew his ministrations, diving back inside you with a vigor that puts any of his previous actions to shame. His tongue flicks furiously against your clit as his fingers delve further inside you in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you moan brokenly around Jungkook’s dick when he finds it without a hitch. “Look at how greedy your little pussy is,” he croons, pulling away from your folds just enough to murmur the words. “Sucking my fingers back inside each time I pull them out. But I bet my cock will feel even better, huh?”

You’re in no position to give him a verbal response—not with your throat swollen with the entirety of Jungkook’s dick—but Jimin doesn’t seem to need one. The warmth of his body suddenly disappears from between your legs, and you wonder vaguely where he’s gone even as Jungkook increases his pace. Saliva pools in your mouth to ease the dark-haired man’s thrusts, and somewhere between the slick slide of his cock against your lips and his strangled cursing, you vaguely hear the metallic clack of a belt buckle and the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open.

Jimin’s warmth returns moments later, the heat rolling off his torso almost unbearable as he leans over your supine figure. “Jesus, princess,” the blond man murmurs, laying a trail of kisses from your stomach to the valley between your breasts. “You’re fucking soaked.” As if to prove his point, he runs the tip of his cock between your folds, chuckling when you tense up beneath him in anticipation. “Greedy,” he remarks to no one in particular.

And then he’s lining himself up and sliding inside you, inch by torturous inch. The sudden surge of fullness renders you completely breathless, and Jungkook seems to sense your lungs’ desperation for oxygen just before you can choke on his cock. Pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop, he immediately drops to his knees and cups the back of your head, urging you to straighten up and allow your neck to bend in the right direction once more. “Breathe, baby,” he encourages lowly, tangling his fingers in your hair and massaging through the roots.

Obediently, you suck in a deep breath, only to release it shakily mere seconds later, when Jimin suddenly rolls his hips. A pleased grin stretches across his face at your reaction, brown eyes dancing with barely-contained glee. “Is that good, princess? You like being full of my cock?”

“God, yes,” you breathe, relishing the stretch as he pulls back until only the tip remains inside before snapping forward again. “Fuck, Jimin.”

His grin widens at the sound of his name. One hand flits down to the apex of your thighs, rubbing circles into your clit as he settles into a comfortable rhythm. The other curls around your waist, anchoring you in place firmly on the plushy couch, your body sinking further into the cushion as his thrusts become bolder and more urgent.

The air fills with the sound of skin against skin, your airy moans intermingling with Jimin’s grunts of exertion. Behind you, Jungkook refocuses his attentions on your neck, determinedly suckling another bruise just below your jaw as his fingers find the swells of your breasts once more. Your head lolls against the backrest at the mixed sensations, the heat in your belly coalescing into something sharper and more tangible with every passing second.

You aren’t sure how much longer you can last. Pressure is beginning to build in your core, your tummy tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. Every thrust, every stroke of Jimin’s thumb on your clit, every nip and lick that Jungkook bestows upon your neck and shoulders—all of it drives you closer to the brink of what promises to be an absolutely explosive orgasm, and your companions seem to realize how close you are as well, doubly renewing their efforts to send you off the edge. Jungkook’s teeth dig into your skin a little harder, intermingling pain with pleasure, and Jimin tightens his grip on your waist and slams into you so hard you swear the couch scoots back a few centimeters. Your breath hitches in your throat.

And then you’re falling, your body collapsing into a searing wave of pleasure that starts in your core and flares outward like a supernova. A series of garbled moans and keening whimpers is all you can manage as your hands reach out desperately to ground yourself to earth—one flying up to wrap around Jungkook’s neck while the other finds purchase on Jimin’s arm. The blond man has not relinquished his grasp on you—if anything, his grip only tightens around your waist as he chases his own high. His hips stutter as you clench around him in the throes of your orgasm, and it proves to be too much when he follows you off the edge just a few seconds later, burying his face between your breasts and letting out a low, satisfied groan.

It takes you a few long moments to recover, your breathing labored. Jimin grins as you raise your head to meet his gaze, raising a dark brow and pressing a fond kiss to your sternum. “You’re cute,” he remarks, straightening up and rolling off his condom. Tying it off, he wanders away to toss it in the trash before returning to sprawl out beside you on the couch. “I see why Jungkook likes you so much.”

He says it so offhandedly that you barely even notice the way Jungkook stiffens on your other side, inhaling sharply. You are still feeling utterly boneless from your orgasm, your thoughts muddled and hazy as the pleasure recedes back into your veins. But when Jungkook suddenly stands up and walks around the couch to take up residence between your still-spread thighs, you finally snap to attention, your heartbeat quickening at the smolder in his eyes.

“My turn,” Jungkook breathes softly, reaching out to run a finger along your swollen folds and smiling when you shiver at the fleeting touch. “Christ, you’re already so sensitive, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin teases. “I did you a favor by going first, you know.”

Jungkook hums, grabbing one of your hands and absently playing with your fingers. “Did you?” he asks, a playful smile settling on his face when you immediately lace your hands together. “You don’t know {Name}’s body like I do.” And as if to prove his point, he leans forward and lays a trail of kisses along your jaw, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just below your ear that always makes your breathing stutter.

“F-fuck, Jungkook—“

The dark-haired man’s grin grows, prominent teeth on full display as he gives your hand one last squeeze before straightening back up to his full height. “On your knees, baby,” he commands, tonguing his cheek thoughtfully.

Anticipation coils in the pit of your belly, sizzling and electric. Jungkook slides a finger along the bony ridges of your vertebrae as you begin shifting into position, but before you can settle comfortably Jimin reaches out and stops you in your tracks.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap instead, princess?” he suggests silkily, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging until you are straddling his thighs. Your knees sink into the plushy cushions on either side of his legs, and Jimin smirks crookedly as he curls his fingers around your nape and tugs you down for a kiss. Behind you, Jungkook splays a hand flat against your spine, urging you to arch your back and leave your ass on full display for him.

“Christ,” he grunts, squeezing the presented globes of flesh in his large hands. “I love your ass so fucking much.” The tip of his index finger circles your puckered rim briefly—drawing a gasp from you and sending gooseflesh prickling across every inch of your skin—before he moves down into more familiar territory. “But I love this pretty little pussy of yours even more,” he croons, using his fingers to spread your lips apart before licking a long stripe along your dripping entrance.

“J-Jungkook,” you warble weakly, burying your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck as your thighs tense. The blond man chuckles softly at your predicament and lays his hands on your shoulders reassuringly, even as Jungkook’s hot tongue dips inside you for another taste. “God, please. Please don’t tease me.”

The dark-haired man laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending vibrations dancing up your spine. “Want my cock, baby?”

“You know I do,” you keen into Jimin’s clavicle.

Another laugh. “Good.”

The air shifts behind you, and you deduce that Jungkook is straightening up to his full height and shucking his jeans off his legs from the sound of rustling fabric. Seconds later, his hands caress your waist, smoothing down along the soft skin to anchor firmly at your hips. You suck in an anticipatory breath, waiting.

And then Jungkook is sliding home in one smooth motion, and even though you can’t see him, you can perfectly imagine the tight clench of his jaw and the prominent vein in his neck as his throat bobs with restraint. “Jesus,” he hisses, his hips nestled snugly against the soft curve of your ass. “Fuck. How are you always this tight?”

You cannot find the words to answer, rendered breathless by the slow throbbing of his cock along your walls. Unlike Jimin, he’s forgone a condom—and you can clearly feel every ridge and vein as your body molds to his exact shape and girth. The anticipation in your tummy coalesces into something darker—something potent and heavy—and you finally find your voice again when Jungkook groans in a voice so cavernous that it sends heat spiking straight to your aching core. “Jungkook,” you groan, barely coherent enough to string together words. “Jungkook, please, I need you to move, please.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook snarls, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, baby, you know I’ll give you anything you want. God, you feel fucking incredible.” His hands tighten around your hips as he begins to move, rolling up into you with fluid, practiced strokes.

Pure heat coils in the pit of your belly, dark and heady and thrumming with the need for release. Jungkook picks up his pace, pushing in so deep that you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, a choked gasp escaping your parted lips as he pounds into you relentlessly. Every snap of his hips shoves you up against Jimin, his body taut and his face creased in a lascivious grin as he watches you descend further into delirium. Both of his hands find their way to your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh before he shifts downward to wrap his mouth around a hardened nipple, lapping at the delicate nub and grinning lazily when you reward him with a shaky whimper.

“Damn, princess,” he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Keep rubbing up against me like that, and I’m going to end up needing a second round.”

Jungkook growls when he realizes how firmly you are crushed against the blond man, your chest and stomach sliding against Jimin’s bare torso with every thrust. One of his hands slides from your hipbone up to the base of your throat, splaying just below your jugular and forcing you upright until you are no longer pressed against the blond. The new angle draws a gasp from you, your hands flying up to brace yourself on Jimin’s shoulders, but Jungkook growls again and gives your neck a punishingly hard nip.

“Arms around my neck, baby,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. Immediately, you snake your arms around him, drawing him close until his chest is flush against your back, and Jungkook rewards your compliance with a tender kiss to the soft spot below your ear.

“G-god, Jungkook,” you moan, quivering in his grasp as he picks up his pace. Every snap of his hips sends stars skittering across your vision, the delicious friction between your bodies driving you ever closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” Jungkook rasps, the hand on your hip descending to your clit and drawing tight circles around the aching bud. “Cum for me.”

You keen at the additional stimulation, heat welling up in your core, and Jungkook’s hips stutter when your walls clamp down around him—your fingers simultaneously tightening their grip on the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, come on,” he grunts, recovering his rhythm quickly. “I’ve got you—just let go for me and cum, baby.”

With one last push, Jungkook sends you spiraling over the edge. The coil in your tummy snaps, releasing a wave of pleasure that surges through your veins like wildfire. A broken keen that vaguely resembles Jungkook’s name fills the room, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from you, your eyes fluttering shut as you shake apart in his ironclad grip.

Jungkook only manages half a dozen more strokes before his hips stutter again, this time faltering entirely as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, {Name},” he grits out, thumb still drawing circles around your clit even as he gives in to the tight, wet draw of your body squeezing around his cock. You can feel him painting your walls in spurts of creamy white, and even in your euphoric haze you still make sure to milk him for every last drop.

“Jungkook,” you whine, slapping his hand away when overstimulation sets in. “Fuck, I can’t.”

Obediently, he withdraws. His softening cock slips out from your entrance, and you groan at the feeling of your combined juices dribbling out and down your thighs. Jungkook zeroes in on the sight immediately and presses two fingers to your entrance to act as a stopper, his lips brushing tenderly along your shoulder. “Keep me inside you, babe.”

Your face flushes when Jimin catches your eye, his plump lips curving up into a shrewd little smirk. But you’re left with no time to wonder about the knowing look on his face because Jungkook is gently gathering you up in his arms to lift you off of Jimin’s lap, plopping you down next to the blond-haired man. He disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm towel, and you smile when he gently begins cleaning you up, wiping at the mess smeared along your inner thighs. 

“Doing okay, baby?” he asks, and your heart swells with warmth at the concern lacing his voice.

“More than okay,” you admit, turning to press your lips to the sharp angle of his jaw. 

Jungkook’s bare chest rumbles with laughter, his mouth finding yours in a brief kiss as he finishes his work and collapses beside you. “Good.”

On your other side, Jimin is grinning. “Well, this was fun,” he remarks casually, running a hand through his mussed blond hair. Leaning over, he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward his so that he can plant a lazy kiss on your mouth before pulling back and winking. “If you ever wanna do this again, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, a laugh creasing your face when he swoops down and kisses you again. “Jesus, Park, I’m starting to think you really did fall in love with me.”

Jimin’s grin widens. “You could make an honest man of me yet, princess. But for now, I’ve still got a reputation to uphold.” Standing up, he begins gathering his discarded clothes, pulling on his jeans and buckling his belt. You admire the smooth flex of his abdominal muscles as he pulls his t-shirt back over his head, and when he catches you looking, a delighted peal of laughter escapes him. “I’m just a call away, princess,” he reminds with a salacious waggle of his eyebrows. “If Jeon ever stops satisfying your needs, I’ll be more than happy to step up.”

“Oh, fuck off.” This time, it’s Jungkook who speaks, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “Go find some other girl to harass, Park.”

“Testy,” Jimin says with a snicker. Slipping into his denim jacket, he checks his pockets one last time for his wallet and keys. “But I know when I’m not wanted anymore. You coming to the showcase tomorrow, {Name}?”

Suddenly cold, you grab the afghan hanging over the armrest and throw it over your naked body. “I’m going to try.”

Jungkook turns to you, eyes wide. “Try? Christ, {Name}, were you planning to study instead?”

Guiltily, you meet his dumbfounded gaze. “Maybe?”

“Damn,” the dark-haired young man mutters. “You really would be a complete hermit without me.”

“Would not!” you defend immediately. “I have Jisoo!”

Jimin perks up at the mention of your best friend. “Speaking of Jisoo—she’s pretty cute. What’s her story?”

“Oh, fuck off!” you and Jungkook exclaim simultaneously, turning to the blond man still standing in the middle of your living room.

He chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. See you at practice tomorrow, Jungkook. And {Name}, I hope you do come to the show. Seriously. We’ve worked hard, and it’s going to be a great performance. Take a study break and live a little, princess.” Shooting you one last playful wink, he saunters out of the room. A few seconds later, you hear the front door click shut behind him.

“Jesus, he’s something else,” you remark with a giggle, turning back toward the dark-haired man lounging beside you.

Jungkook snorts and stretches lazily, one arm coming to rest on the back of the couch, just behind your shoulders. “Yeah, no kidding. You should see him after performances—he gets swarmed by girls and loves every fucking second of it.”

“He does seem like an attention whore,” you admit, grinning when your companion snorts again.

“You’ve got no idea.” Jungkook’s head lolls back, lips parting to release a yawn. Wordlessly, you offer him a corner of your afghan, which he accepts gratefully and throws over his lap.

For a while, the two of you just sit there in comfortable silence. At some point your head falls against his shoulder, and Jungkook quietly shifts to make more room for you against his side. Finally, after several minutes, you exhale heavily, straightening up and looking longingly at your dark bedroom doorway. “God, I’m exhausted.”

Jungkook follows your gaze. “I guess I should let you go to bed,” he murmurs, but there’s something soft and halting in his voice that makes you glance back at him.

“Do…” you start, trailing off awkwardly when his doe eyes lock onto yours. Fidgeting uncomfortably, you clear your throat and continue. “Um. Do you, maybe… want to stay? I mean, it’s pretty late and you live kind of far away…“

Jungkook’s face breaks into a grin. “Sure,” he says softly, reaching up to brush your cheek with his thumb—the motion so tender and intimate that your heart stutters in your chest. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “No problem.” Gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom, you add, “You know where the shower is, and all that.”

“I sure do,” he says with a chuckle. “Join me in there?”

You aren’t sure that you can handle being in such close quarters with him just now. “No, you go ahead,” you say, waving him off. “I’ll go after you’re done.”

Concern flickers briefly across his expression before he wipes it away. “All right. I’ll be quick, promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s something you want to hear from the guy you’re sleeping with.”

That earns you a hearty cackle. “You know no one else can fuck you as good as I do,” he boasts, standing up and allowing the afghan to fall away from his body. Jungkook stoops down to tap your cheek playfully before strolling off in the direction of the bathroom, whistling under his breath and seemingly completely at ease with his nudity. Shamelessly, you stare until his chiseled ass disappears around the corner and you hear the shower turn on. And only then do you flop backward with a groan, draping an arm over your eyes and allowing the couch cushions to engulf your body.

Already, you are beginning to regret inviting him to spend the night. Even though the two of you have never established any definitive rules against sleepovers, you still feel odd, as if sleeping—just sleeping—in the same bed will irreparably change something about your arrangement with the dark-haired young man. We’re friends, you remind yourself. Friends who also happen to fuck every now and then. That’s what we agreed on.

You still remember the night you came to that agreement—the night you first met Jeon Jungkook. You remember Jisoo squeezing you into one of her too-tight dresses and dragging you to the frat house, excitedly chatting about Neuron’s amazing first performance and their hot new member. You remember how you barely heard a word she said over the thumping bass. Jisoo eventually disappeared somewhere amidst a swirling haze of red cups and bitter alcohol, and you, in an attempt to escape the wandering hands on the dance floor, found your way up to the roof of the house.

The stars were exceptionally bright that evening. Autumn was settling in, and the damp chill in the air almost had you retreating back inside when you spotted a figure silhouetted against the night sky, his face upturned toward the twinkling, diamond-studded heavens. Curiosity piqued, you stepped a little closer. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here,” you say by way of greeting.

The young man startles slightly, wide eyes meeting yours. In the dim light shining out of the open window you’d just climbed out of, he looks exactly like what you imagine a deer in headlights would. “Oh! Yeah, uh, I was just looking to get some fresh air,” he explains, gesturing around vaguely. “It was starting to get stuffy downstairs.”

“No kidding.” You nod at the open space beside him. “This seat taken?”

“Nope.” Obligingly, he scoots over to make more room, and you shoot him a grateful smile as you settle down on the rooftop.

“I’m {Name}, by the way,” you introduce, carefully arranging your limbs until you’re sufficiently certain that you’re not flashing your new companion in Jisoo’s absurdly short dress.

The way his gaze lingers on your bare thighs doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Still, his voice remains even when he responds, extending a hand for you to shake. “Jungkook.”

“Jungkook,” you repeat suspiciously, releasing his hand and peering at him a bit more closely. “Why does that sound familiar?”

He chuckles. “I take it you didn’t go to the showcase this afternoon.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, shit. You’re the new Neuron guy everyone’s been talking about?”

“Guilty as charged,” Jungkook admits, scratching the back of his neck.

You huff out a disbelieving laugh, tugging idly at your short skirt as you crane your head back to admire the night sky. “God. You’re famous, dude. Why aren’t you down there basking in the attention? This party’s for Neuron, after all. You should be down there with Hoseok and Jimin.”

“And drown in the sea of girls?” Jungkook snorts. “No thanks. I’ve had enough stress for the day.”

“Are you saying that girls stress you out?” you tease, giggling. “Because if that’s the case, you really aren’t ready for a co-ed college, bud. Or maybe you’re just not into girls?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the starry reflections glinting in their depths. “Very funny,” he says dryly. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I’d still like to state for the record that I do, in fact, like girls. The swarm down there’s just a lot to take, okay?”

“Okay,” you say agreeably, leaning back and resting your weight on your outstretched palms. The rooftop is rough underneath your fingertips, but you barely notice as you take the time to observe Jungkook’s profile, admiring the straight cut of his jawline and his dark mop of mussed hair. “Huh. I guess I can see why you’re so popular. Objectively, you are pretty hot.”

This draws another chuckle from your companion. “Oh yeah? In that case, you’re pretty cute too. Objectively.”

You grin at him, and he grins back. He looks rather like a rabbit with those adorably prominent teeth, you notice. But a glance down at his lithe body and strong thighs tells you that he is far from being a floppy-eared woodland critter, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering just what he might look like underneath the loose black t-shirt and ripped jeans. “Jungkook.”

He hums. “Yeah?”

It isn’t like you to be quite so bold, but you suspect the vodka swimming in your system plays a factor in the question that leaves your mouth next. “Do you want to have sex?”

The dark-haired man blinks twice in rapid succession, and you can practically see the gears whirring in his head as he processes your suggestion. “S-sorry, what?” he finally manages after a few long seconds, his large eyes meeting yours.

“Sex,” you repeat patiently, giggling when his eyes widen even more. “You’re hot, I’m cute, and we’re at a dumb frat party. May as well, right?”

Jungkook snorts out a laugh, lips twisting into an impish little smile. “So, what, do you just proposition every passably hot guy at the parties you go to?”

“Of course not,” you say with a grin. “Only the really hot ones.”

He throws back his head, eyes crinkling into mirth-filled crescents as he lets loose a delighted cackle. “You’re really something else,” he remarks, recovering from his bout of hilarity. “And honestly? I’ve been wanting to rip that dress off you ever since I saw you in it.”

His gaze shifts into something dark and ravenous, and you no longer know if the heat simmering in your belly is from arousal or alcohol. “Well,” you start, watching as he stands up and offers you a hand. “That can be arranged. Your place or mine?”

Jungkook grins crookedly. “How about neither? I don’t know where you live, babe, but my place is pretty far. And I’m pretty sure I passed an empty bedroom on the way up here.”

You take his outstretched hand, relishing the way his long fingers curl protectively around yours as he pulls you to your feet. “Lead the way.”

Mere minutes later, you find yourself laying on a stranger’s bed, Jungkook kneeling between your spread thighs and eagerly tearing Jisoo’s tiny dress off your frame. Clothes disappear in a flurry, and you are pleased to discover just how fit he is underneath his shirt, the muscles in his arms straining as he anchors your hips and pushes inside you.

Needless to say, he’s the best you’ve had in a long time—quite possibly the best you’ve ever had. Jungkook is outrageously open-handed when it comes to your pleasure, and between his generosity and ridiculous stamina you’re surprised you haven’t passed out in a haze of euphoric exhaustion.

“Jesus,” you groan when he finally pulls out.

“No, I’m Jungkook,” he corrects, flopping down beside you with a smug little smirk. The mattress bounces slightly under his weight.

Your answering laugh is equal parts incredulity and amusement. “Oh my god, shut up.”

His smirk only widens. “You’re not as mouthy after three orgasms,” he points out wickedly. You respond by whacking him over the head with the nearest pillow, and Jungkook feigns an exaggerated gasp of pain as he collapses flat onto the mattress in a tangle of naked limbs. “But you’re more violent,” he muses quietly, rubbing his chin in thought. “I don’t know if that’s better.”

“Depends on whether you’re a masochist or not,” you reply breezily, replacing the pillow and dragging yourself into a sitting position, glancing around for your discarded dress.

“I might be for you, babe,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, watching as you fish your panties out of the haphazard pile of clothing on the ground and slip them back on. “Fuck. I’d let you do anything you wanted to me as long as I got to be inside that sweet little pussy of yours at the end of it all.”

“That’s weird. You almost sound like you want this to happen again,” you remark, raising a brow. “Shouldn’t you be a fuckboy like those dance buddies of yours? One-and-done, or whatever the fuck you want to call it?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting into another smirk. “That’d probably be easier,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But I tend to prefer a little more consistency in my sexual encounters.”

You finally manage to locate your dress, sliding the silky material over your hips and tugging until it lays properly across your breasts. “So what are you suggesting?”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” Jungkook replies, watching you struggle with the dress’ zipper for a few seconds before standing up to lend his assistance. Carefully, he brushes your hair away from your bare back as the zipper’s teeth glide into place. “Just sex, no strings attached.”

“Friends with benefits,” you breathe, all too aware of the way his warm fingers are lingering on your exposed shoulders. “That makes sense.”

“Not that I’m trying to force you into anything!” Jungkook’s hand slides to the crook of your neck, gently urging you to turn around and face him. “I mean, this is only if you want to,” he says hastily, and you have to suppress a giggle at his slightly flustered, wide-eyed gaze.

“I know that, you dumbass,” you tell him patiently, reaching up to pat his cheek. “And luckily for you, I do want to.”

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, all traces of hesitance disappearing from his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a grin. “Now give me your number so I can have you at my beck and call.”

Jungkook obligingly grabs his crumpled jeans off the floor and retrieves his phone. “Yes, ma’am.”

Still lost in your memories, you don’t hear the shower switch off in the bathroom or the quiet footsteps of your approaching houseguest. Only when a hand settles on your shoulder are you pulled out of your reverie, your startled gaze skittering up to meet Jungkook’s brown one. He’s standing before you with dripping hair, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips and another one folded neatly over his shoulder. “{Name}? You okay?” he asks, his forehead etched with concern.

You nod hurriedly, making to stand up from the couch. Jungkook looks skeptical, but doesn’t press the issue further. Instead he simply hands you the other towel so that you can wrap it around yourself on the way to the bathroom. A hot shower is just what you need to clear your head.

By the time you leave the bathroom, Jungkook is already sprawled out in your bed, the blanket thrown haphazardly across his bare chest. He grins lazily as you approach him, taking in the loose tee and lacy panties you’re wearing. “C’mere,” he murmurs, lifting a corner of the blanket so you can crawl underneath.

Quietly, you join him under the covers, careful to leave a few inches of space between your bodies, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy Jungkook in the least. One strong arm finds its way around your waist, tugging you flush against his warm body. The other reaches down to squeeze the curve of your ass playfully, drawing an alarmed shriek from your mouth. “Jungkook!”

He chuckles. “Couldn’t help it, your ass looks fucking incredible in this thing.” As if to emphasize his point, he slides two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your panties, snapping it teasingly against your skin.

You retaliate with a sharp elbow to his ribcage, fighting to suppress the smile that threatens to curl across your face. “Go to bed, you pervert.”

Jungkook just laughs again, obediently rolling over to switch off the bedside lamp sitting on your nightstand. “Night, babe,” he murmurs as the room goes dark. You vaguely see his shadowy silhouette settle back down next to you, listening as the mattress springs creak underneath his weight.

But he doesn’t try to reach for you again, and you can’t explain away the sudden, aching emptiness that slithers between your ribs and settles in your chest, just below your erratically pounding heart.

///

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to bright sunlight suffusing the room through the open curtains and stifling warmth pressed up against your back. It takes you a full three seconds to realize that there is an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and another two to identify the arm’s owner as Jeon Jungkook. All at once, your stomach drops to somewhere near your toes, your heart leaping up into your throat and threatening to burst forth from your mouth entirely. “Oh, shit,” you breathe, trying to wriggle free from his embrace. “Shit.”

By some miracle or perhaps just dumb luck, you manage to escape the strong arm banded around you without awakening its owner. All your previous assumptions about Jungkook sprawling out like a starfish in bed are incorrect, you realize. He’s no starfish—he’s a goddamn koala. Your sleep-addled brain conjures up an image of Jungkook’s head pasted onto a koala’s body, and the sheer absurdity of it sends you into a fit of convulsive giggles that you just barely manage to contain with a hand slapped over your mouth. Still chortling, you somehow find the strength to throw your legs over the edge of the mattress and rise to your feet.

It takes several seconds to recover from your outburst, but after a few deep breaths you glance back toward the dark-haired man still fast asleep in your bed. His mouth is parted slightly, his breathing deep and even, and for a fleeting moment you think just how unfair it is that his lips look so deliciously soft first thing in the morning. Personally, you’re in dire need of some chapstick and a toothbrush—not to mention some much-needed distance from your still-sleeping fuck buddy—and it’s with that thought in mind that you head into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door firmly before slumping against it with a low groan.

You’re in over your head. It’s something you’ve known for a while now but have stubbornly refused to admit, telling yourself that your feelings for the dark-haired man extend no further than simple friendship. But now, with Jungkook sound asleep in your bed after spending the night, you can no longer deny the very real feelings bubbling in your chest.

“Shit,” you mumble again, dropping to the floor and pulling your knees to your chest. Your heart beats frantically against your ribcage like a caged hummingbird, and it takes every ounce of discipline you possess to not break down right then and there.

Instead, you take three long, deep breaths—letting your eyes fall shut and exhaling through your nose. You concentrate on the rise and fall of your chest—feel the way oxygen rushes into your expanding lungs—and when your heartbeat eventually settles into a more even rhythm, you clamber to your feet and reach for the toothpaste.

When you emerge from the bathroom ten minutes later, Jungkook is sitting upright in bed with an expression that’s halfway between a pout and a frown, his eyes still obstinately squeezed shut. At the sound of the door opening, he turns, one eye blinking open blearily to regard your figure silhouetted in the doorway. “Hey.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a full octave lower than his normal pitch, and you can practically see the gears whirring weakly in his head, adamantly telling him to stay awake.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, carefully picking your way across the room to your dresser and trying to ignore the way his gaze follows your every move.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” he murmurs sleepily. Turning around, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut again. “Can I borrow yours?”

You throw open the bottom drawer, digging through to locate your favorite pair of jeans and plucking them out from among the other piles of folded denim. “Gross.”

Jungkook chuckles hoarsely, one hand reaching up to rake through his already-tousled hair. “I had my tongue halfway down your throat yesterday, babe.”

“That is not the same thing,” you say pointedly. “You can have some of my mouthwash though.”

He hums in assent, stretching both arms overhead and groaning when something pops. “’S fine,” he mumbles, craning his neck and wincing at the resulting crack. “Hey, what would it take to convince you to come over here and give me a massage?”

“Baked goods. Probably at least an entire cake,” you reply, selecting a balled up t-shirt from your dresser and chucking it at his head. It unravels in midair and flops sadly over his face instead, and you giggle as he claws halfheartedly at the red material before shaking it off and tossing it onto the bed.

“A cake it is,” he says. “Can you come over here and get rid of this knot in my neck? Please?”

Not for the first time, you wish Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so goddamn irresistible. “Lay down,” you sigh, approaching the bed and watching as he sends you the most radiant, grateful grin you’ve ever seen before flopping down onto the mattress. Tentatively, you settle next to him, leaning over and placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “How’s that?” you murmur, rubbing circles into his warm skin.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he groans, melting under your touch. “Just for this, I’m making you two cakes. And a batch of cookies. Any kind you want.”

“You can’t even bake,” you retort. “I’m pretty sure you would just end up setting yourself on fire.”

He snickers quietly, his shoulders quaking underneath your fingertips. “How would I set myself on fire with an oven?”

“You’d find a way.”

Jungkook hums out a content sigh when you begin working on a particularly tense spot in his back. “Fine, so I might need your supervision.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I have a better idea—why don’t you just buy me all the desserts I want? Less babysitting, more instant gratification.” Teasingly, you poke him in the ribs, giggling when he wriggles away and nearly tangles himself up in the mess of blankets on your bed. However, the grin is wiped promptly off your face when he suddenly rolls over, two strong hands gripping your hips and dragging you down onto the mattress. In an instant, you are on your back with Jungkook hovering over you triumphantly, a smug smirk painted across his handsome face.

“Instant gratification, huh?” He leans down until his nose brushes against yours, his dark gaze penetrating. “I can help with that, you know.”

He’s being too intimate. Everything about this—the sleepover, the impromptu massage—is far too intimate. Too domestic. Too romantic—as if he’s your boyfriend and you’re in love. This close to him, you feel as if all the air has been sucked straight from your lungs, your eyes widening when you see him descending even further to press a kiss to your mouth. “Damn it, Kook,” you grumble, mustering up your strength and shoving him away before your lips have the chance to touch. “Why are you so horny all the damn time?”

Jungkook rolls off of you, stretching like a cat before settling on his side and propping his cheek in his open palm. “What can I say?” he murmurs, wide gaze raking across your sprawled figure. “I can’t resist you.”

There’s something unspeakably tender in his tone, something that sinks between your ribcage and takes up residence in your chest, winding around your heart and squeezing until you can barely breathe. “D-don’t say such ridiculous bullshit,” you stutter, unable to look him in the eye. “Don’t you have places to be, or something? Jimin said something about practice yesterday, didn’t he?”

You don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes flash with equal parts hurt and anger. You don’t see the way his fists clench in the rumpled sheets, wrinkling the soft cotton. Your gaze is fixated firmly on the sliver of blue sky visible from your window, and you don’t dare look away until you hear him mumble a quiet yeah and feel the mattress shift underneath you as he gets up and walks into the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him, and only then do you release the breath that you’re holding.

Minutes pass—minutes that you spend simply focusing on your breathing and trying to quell your tumultuous thoughts. You listen to the water running through the pipes in the ceiling while valiantly ignoring the sound of the shower in the adjacent bathroom—the sound that signals Jungkook’s lingering presence in your apartment. Groaning, you roll over onto your stomach and smother your face into the nearest pillow, but one whiff tells you that it’s the one Jungkook slept on last night and the realization sends you recoiling back and off the bed entirely.

You need to do laundry, and you need to do it as soon as possible. Anything to get Jungkook’s pleasantly musky, boyish scent off your sheets and pillows—anything to forget last night’s mistake of a sleepover and return things to normal.

Heart pounding, you back out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. The empty pizza box from the other night is still sitting in your trash bin like a taunt, and you resist the urge to flee again at the memories it brings up. Instead, you wrench open your refrigerator in search for a distraction, your gaze flitting across the empty shelves with growing distress. “Fuck.”

“You still haven’t gone grocery shopping, have you.” Jungkook’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you, and it’s not a question. Whirling around, you glance guiltily at his tall frame silhouetted in the entryway, one dark eyebrow raised at your predicament. “Jesus, {Name}.”

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you promise weakly. “I have some free time then.”

Jungkook shakes his head, closing the distance between you in a few short strides and tilting your chin up with his index finger. “For someone so smart, you’re absolute shit at taking care of yourself,” he says sternly. “What’s stopping you from going today?”

“I have to study,” you say, already knowing exactly how feeble an excuse it is when the first few syllables leave your mouth. “And, um. Your showcase is this afternoon.”

He brightens. “You’re coming?”

You swallow, hating how happy he suddenly looks—as if your presence at his performance means the world to him. “Y-yeah. I’ll do my best.”

Jungkook reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing across the skin just below your right eye. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs seriously. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

But then he’s pulling away again, his hand dropping back down to his side as he steps back and offers you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You watch as he grabs his duffel bag, swinging it over his shoulder before patting down his pockets for his wallet and keys. And then he’s walking off, disappearing out your front door and leaving you completely and utterly speechless in his wake.

///

You can’t focus.

Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the words swimming across the pages of your textbook when your stomach is constantly and loudly protesting its current state of emptiness. Grumbling, you snatch your phone up from the table, unlocking the device and sending off a text to your best friend.

[10:04am] You: I’m starving, wanna get food?

Her response comes in almost immediately:

[10:04am] Jisoo: Don’t move a muscle, I’m coming over!!

Jisoo bursts into your apartment thirty minutes later with two paper bags and a massive thermos, her mouth already open and ready to berate you for your lack of self-care.

“Look, I know it’s finals week and all that, but you have got to take better care of yourself,” she trills, slamming the thermos down in front of you. “That’s coffee, drink up. I’ve got breakfast sandwiches in here—“ she drops one bag into your lap, “—and some basic groceries in here so you don’t die in the next couple days.”

Turning on her heel, she marches into your kitchen and begins emptying the contents of the second bag. You watch as she pulls out a carton of milk and a small crate of eggs, shoving both into your refrigerator before taking out a box of cereal and placing it on the counter. “I didn’t tell you I didn’t have any groceries,” you mumble, awed by her kindness.

“No, but you asked if I wanted to get breakfast,” Jisoo replies, fixing you with a knowing stare. “And you never ask if I want to get food unless your fridge is empty. Besides,” she adds, pulling out a box of crackers and another of cookies, “you always neglect your health when it comes to final exams. I kind of figured you’d already be half-starved to death by now, so it’s honestly a wonder you still look okay.” Her gaze skitters over to the pizza box in your trash, one perfectly arched brow raising. “Did you order pizza?”

You bite your lip. “Jungkook brought it over.”

“Thank god,” she sighs. “At least your boyfriend is taking care of you so I don’t have to worry so damn much.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

Your perfunctory response only earns you an exaggerated eye-roll from the dark-haired girl. “Yeah, yeah. Your fuck buddy then, whatever.” Pulling two mugs out of the cabinet, she joins you at the table, grabbing the thermos and pouring generous helpings of hot coffee into both before sliding one to you. “Did he bring it over yesterday?”

“Day before,” you murmur. “But… he was here yesterday too.”

“Of course he was.” Jisoo settles back comfortably in her chair, taking a long sip of coffee and nodding at the brown paper bag still sitting in your lap. “Hand me a sandwich and tell me everything.”

So you do. You detail all the events of the last two days—from your impromptu pizza dinner and study date to Jungkook’s departure just a couple hours ago. Jisoo listens intently the entire time, her eyes widening when you tell her about Jimin’s involvement, and narrowing in smug satisfaction when you mention the sleepover.

“God, it’s about time. I was wondering when you’d finally let him spend the night.”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, slamming your mug down onto the table a bit too vigorously and sloshing hot coffee across the wooden surface. “Fuck. I just… fuck. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let him stay.”

Jisoo flinches back at the sudden spill, her eyes widening. “{Name}, it’s fine. It was late, and you were just looking out for him. No big deal.”

You shake your head. “Jisoo, he’s never spent the night. What if he gets all weird about it? What if this ruins our friendship?”

She raises a brow. “Honestly, sweetie, it looks like you’re the one getting weird. Besides, he wouldn’t have agreed to stay if he didn’t actually want to.”

You are about to open your mouth to protest again, but Jisoo cuts you off with a raised finger and a fistful of clean, slightly crumpled napkins.

“Nope, no more talking about it. I’m going to clean this mess up, you’re going to open that box of cookies I brought over, and we’re going to watch shitty reality TV until you’re not overthinking things anymore. Got it?”

You sigh and turn toward the kitchen, having learned long ago how useless it is to argue with Jisoo once she’s made up her mind. “Fine.”

///

There is already a sizeable crowd forming in the open lot behind the performing arts building by the time you and Jisoo arrive. Music blares through the loudspeakers, the bass boosted high enough to vibrate the ground beneath your feet. A makeshift stage sits at the very edge of the lot, steel gray beams rising up against the cloudless blue backdrop of the sky to hold aloft a simple white banner with Neuron emblazoned across the front in bold black text.

“Let’s get closer to the front,” Jisoo suggests, grabbing your wrist and dragging you forward until you are practically toeing the flimsy metal barricade corralling the audience.

“I’m gonna go deaf,” you lament, distastefully eyeing the speaker system sitting just a few feet away on the grass.

As if on cue, the music dies down, and Jisoo nudges you playfully as Hoseok ascends the steps to the stage, followed by Jimin and Jungkook. All three are decked out in ripped jeans and loose-fitting shirts with the topmost buttons undone, no doubt to expose a teasing flash of collarbone with every movement.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok steps up to the front where a microphone is set up, giving it a few taps before flashing his dazzling trademark grin. Cheers ring out, and the red-haired man beams. “Welcome to Neuron’s spring showcase!” he continues once the noise has died down. “I know we’re all busy with exams, but the three of us really appreciate you guys taking the time to come see us. We’ve worked incredibly hard on this routine—I’m sure Jimin and Jungkook can vouch for that—and we’re really excited to show it to you guys today. So thanks for coming out, and we hope you enjoy the show!”

Applause breaks out, and Hoseok’s beam widens as he turns away from the microphone and strides back to join his fellow dancers. His emerald green shirt billows in the breeze as he takes his position on Jungkook’s left and leaves the youngest member in the center—sunshine yellow shirt standing out like a beacon against Hoseok’s green and Jimin’s royal blue. The music starts up again—something low that pulsates with a bass line so heavy you can feel it rumbling in your chest—and you watch in fascination as Jungkook strides forward, each step as calculated and graceful as a prowling cat. One hand rakes through his hair as the other trails down his chest, and when someone in the audience whoops, an absolutely devastating smirk stretches across his lips and settles there.

Hoseok and Jimin join him then, flanking the younger man on either side and joining the choreography seamlessly. One by one, the three dancers fall to the floor, catching on their palms and kicking outward before sliding to their knees. The hip thrusts that follow send the audience into a frenzy, but you barely hear the boisterous cheers over the sound of your pounding heart. Jungkook’s gaze is roving across the crowd intently, and somehow, you know that he is looking for you.

The performance continues. Jimin leaps over Jungkook as the song changes, landing neatly and rolling his hips in time with the new, sultry rhythm. Without missing a beat, Jungkook rises smoothly to his feet and falls back alongside Hoseok. His eyes are still flitting across the audience, and for a brief, insane moment, you consider ducking behind Jisoo and using her as cover.

And then his gaze finds you at last, his brown eyes alight with a fire that you rarely see in the normally mild-mannered young man. You are unable to look away from his piercing stare, the erratic thud of your heartbeat against your ribcage a stark contrast to the smooth, seductive beat still pouring from the speakers. The pounding bass echoes heavy in your ears, the music wrapping around you like a blanket as you watch Jungkook move across the stage, each move flowing effortlessly into the next.

Before you know it, raucous applause fills the air. Startled, you tear your gaze away from Jungkook, taking in the furiously clapping audience surrounding you. To your left, Jisoo cheers heartily, tugging on your arm and grinning so hard you fear her mouth might fall off entirely. “That was their best performance yet!” she shouts. “I can’t believe you get to experience those hips firsthand, you lucky bitch.”

You flush at her insinuation. “Oh my god, Jisoo.”

She simply laughs, flicking her long hair over one shoulder. “Shut up, you love me. Are you gonna go congratulate Jungkook now?”

“Oh.” Glancing back up at the stage, your heartbeat picks up when you realize that it is now devoid of all three dancers. The intensity of Jungkook’s piercing stare is burned into your memory, and you can’t even begin to pinpoint the emotions roiling in your tummy at the thought of talking to him. “I, uh. I guess I should probably find him.”

Jisoo beams and waggles her fingers in farewell. “Well, don’t let me keep you from loverboy,” she singsongs cheerfully. And before you can berate her for the nickname, she’s already skipping off, tinkling laugh echoing behind her.

You heave a sigh, watching her disappear amongst the remaining members of the audience. People are milling about, all smiles and cheery chatter as they enjoy the reprieve from final exams. Hoseok’s distinctive hair catches your attention immediately, shining like a cherry-red beacon in a large group gathered near the stage. Expectantly, you scan the faces surrounding the dance captain, but the one you’re seeking is nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for me?”

Whirling around, you find yourself face-to-face with a thoroughly amused Jimin, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his tight jeans while the other rakes through his ruffled blond hair. “Because if so, there’s no need to look further. I’m right here, princess.”

You snort out an incredulous laugh and roll your eyes. “Dream on, Park.”

“Believe me, after last night? You’ve been showing up plenty in my dreams,” Jimin replies with a wink. When that only earns him another eye-roll, however, he tucks both hands into the pockets of his jeans and relents with a good-natured chuckle. “Anyway. You enjoy the show?”

“It was incredible,” you say honestly. “Really. I’m… I’m glad I came.”

Jimin’s face stretches into a smug grin. “Glad you came to see Jeon?”

Ignoring the knowing look in his eyes, you shrug. “Needed a study break.”

He chuckles and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Sure, princess.” Then he’s turning around and hollering for Jungkook, his grin widening when said young man immediately extricates himself from a nearby group of students and jogs over. “{Name}, why don’t you tell Jungkookie here what you were just telling me?” Jimin claps the other man on the back and offers you another saucy wink before strolling off. His golden head of hair quickly disappears amidst a group of squealing girls, leaving you alone with a wide-eyed Jungkook.

“What were you telling him?” the dark-haired young man asks, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing!” you say quickly. “I mean, well… I was talking about how incredible the show was, but then he made it all weird. I don’t know.” Huffing out a sigh, you meet his gaze. “You guys were great, though. Really great.”

A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.”

For a few seconds, the two of you simply stand there. Jungkook shuffles awkwardly, scuffing his heel against the asphalt, and your gaze finds his sneaker-clad feet before darting over to your own toes. A crumpled beer can rolls by, buoyed by the spring breeze. You tuck a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“So, I guess I should go—” you start, making to walk away.

Simultaneously, Jungkook plants his feet and blurts, “D-do you want to go out?”

Both of you stop, blinking owlishly at the other. “What?” you ask dumbly, certain you’d misheard him.

Jungkook’s cheeks flush pink. “I… um. Fuck, I’m really not good at this.” Sheepishly, he scratches the back of his neck, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours as he sucks in a deep breath and slowly releases it again. “Look, I know this is kind of shitty timing. Really shitty timing. And I know you might, uh—well, you probably don’t feel the same way. But I…”He swallows, his throat bobbing anxiously before he exhales the next six words in a rush. “Fuck. I really like you, {Name}.”

Your voice, when you find it, is little more than a confused stammer. “Y-you… wh-what?”

Jungkook shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing out a self-deprecating little chuckle. “I’ve ruined everything haven’t I? Shit. I’m sorry. I’m just so into you… but I totally understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. It’s just—I just couldn’t hold it in any longer, you know? And seeing you with Jimin drove me fucking crazy—“

“Kook.”

“—I mean, it was hot and all, but it also made me realize that I want you to myself but that’s probably not possible now. Fuck, sorry. I’ve ruined everything and I’m s—“

“Kook!”

The dark-haired man finally pauses in his rambling, eyes wide. “Y-yeah?”

Nervously, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying at the delicate skin. “You… like me?”

Jungkook sucks in another long breath before giving you a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

“But you said… before, back when we first met…” you mumble weakly, mind still whirring to process his confession. “You said no strings.”

“I know,” he says, running a frazzled hand through his hair. “But… things changed, you know? We got to know each other better and I realized how incredible you are—how smart and funny and nice and—and I just…” He sighs. “I had to tell you how I feel. But I know you don’t want a relationship, so I’m just gonna leave before I embarrass myself any more…”

He trails off, already turning to walk away when you snap back to your senses, reaching out and grabbing ahold of his hand. “Wait!”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

“You didn’t even let me talk, dummy,” you admonish gently, squeezing his hand.

He glances down at your intertwined hands, his expression morphing into one of tentative hope as he waits for you to continue. Your heartbeat thuds rapidly in your chest, threatening to burst out from your ribcage entirely as you search for the right words.

“I… I think you’re incredible too,” you finally manage after a few seconds, wincing at how awkward you sound. Jungkook, however, doesn’t seem to mind the stilted nature of your words. His face melts into a crinkly, full-fledged grin—one that shines brighter than his yellow shirt, brighter than the sun overhead.

“Yeah?” he asks, squeezing your hand. His grin doesn’t falter for a single second.

“Yeah,” you confirm, unable to look him in the eye. “And, um. I... I like you too. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter, releasing your hand in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you close. “You’re so cute,” he says, leaning down to pepper kisses across both of your cheeks before finding your mouth.

“And you’re a dumbass,” you mumble, your face flushing when he just lets loose another delighted cackle and kisses you again.

“But I’m your dumbass,” he retorts playfully once he’s had his fill of your mouth. “All yours. What do you wanna do for our first date?”

You hum thoughtfully, fisting your hands in the soft material of his yellow shirt. “Well, you did promise me baked goods this morning.”

“I did, didn’t I? Then that settles it—let’s go grocery shopping.” Jungkook’s hand finds yours again, and when he laces your fingers together, you cannot help but think that nothing has ever felt more perfect. Still, you’ve never been able to resist an opportunity to tease him, and your new relationship status isn’t about to change that.

“Gave up on the idea of baking me cake already, huh?”

“Hey, I never said that. I just figured going to the store would be quicker.”

Your dark-haired boyfriend—because yes, he’s your boyfriend now—glances down at you, the beginnings of something wicked glimmering in his eyes.

“After all—we’re going to need a lot of sustenance with the way I’m planning on fucking you tonight.”

⇢ a bit more [prequel].

[algandarsplaguepositive]

“Take Note”

A/N: This is a story I wrote several years ago partly for myself and partly for my friend Sammy and it was originally based on a post talking about how if Zane were to ever permit Genius into the City of Flowers it would probably end in disaster. I won’t say anything more to spoil the story but content warning for descriptions of blood and violence. That alone probably spoiled it but oh well.

I did make a few small grammatical revisions and changed the dagger to a letter opener because it makes more sense in context. Also, on an unrelated note, I wrote this with the initial assumption that Zane was taller than Genius but upon seeing their character models next to each other (which the game seems to be pretty good about keeping their in-game character heights true to the heights in their bio), I discovered Zane is actually shorter than Genius which takes away from the intimidating vibe but hey, he can always hover to make himself a few inches taller to tower of Genius and scare him, right?

Despite how grateful the young scientist was at having the privilege to live such close proximity to the City of Flowers, one thing that Genius could not stand was the humidity. Being in a marshland, it was to be expected but nevertheless, he preferred days in which the air was cold and dry, especially in his long overcoat.

It had been a particularly nice day as Genius decided that he wouldn’t spend it cooped up in his shack but rather take his research outside. It was a perfect day to study the flora and fauna of the region, so he packed a rucksack with some of his many notebooks, scholarly texts, and of course his precious microscope along with a pack of slides to keep specimens.

Once he was all packed and ready, he headed up the path with the intention of visiting the swamp north of the City of Flowers. To his surprise, however, he didn’t have to walk far before finding himself face-to-face with the light elf leader himself, Lord Zane.

Genius suddenly became flustered. The only time he had ever seen Lord Zane was from afar, through a telescope. This was the first time ever he ever made it this close to the elf lord. He looked… different than Genius expected. He was definitely taller than the other light elves he had encountered during previous attempts at the gate. The boy was both intimidated yet charmed at the same time.

Knowing about Lord Zane’s disdain for humans, he expected their first encounter face-to-face to be met with something along the lines of a cold glare along with some harsh words from the elf leader but to Genius’s surprise, he was…smiling?

“So…” Lord Zane began, a smirk upon his lips and his hands behind his back. “You must be the human who has taken such a keen obsession with my City of Flowers. Would you care to give me your name?”

“P-Professor Genius W-W-Weisheit, sir—err your lordship.“ Genius stuttered.

“I see.” The elf lord nodded. “Now, I might as well get straight to the point. I know you’re watching my city. I know you’re watching my citizens. But most importantly, I know you’re watching me.”

Genius’s face turned beet red, “W-Well…I-I-I have asked Shin and Fan to…uh… let me in but, you know, they’ve always refused. B-But let me assure you that never have I once—”

“Do you think I’m blind?” Lord Zane scoffed, “I know what’s going on. Don’t try to act like that giant, invasive telescope of yours doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb.”

“It’s not pointed at the City of Flowers!”

“True. It’s not. At least not all the time.” The elf lord maintained a calm voice, his hands still behind his back. His composed expression soon changed into a glare, “Sometimes it’s pointed at the waterhole that I bathe in.”

Genius’s face burned with humiliation.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be too angry. The fact that a human—and an esteemed scholar at that, has taken such a fascination with me is flattering. However, I hope you understand that this can no longer go on.”

Genius gazed down at the ground and sighed.        

“I’ll make you a deal; I’ll let you into my city just this once. I’ll let you see everything that you need for the sake of this research of yours. Be sure to take plenty of notes because this will be the only time I’ll let ever let you in. I’ll let you gather all the information you need regarding my city, my culture, and my people on the condition that you promise to never come to this region ever again unless you’re willing to suffer dire consequences. Well, does that sound good to you?”

Genius was silent. He couldn’t believe he was actually being offered an opportunity like this from elf leader of all people. Completely startled, he forgot that Lord Zane was waiting for an answer.

“Well, Genius? Yes or no?” Lord Zane spoke up.

“Absolutely!” Genius caught himself. He was ecstatic. For so long, he had only dreamt about entering such a place as the City of Flowers and now it seemed like all his hard work was finally about to be paid off.

The enthused scientist eagerly followed the elf lord back to the city gates. Shin and Fan were guarding it as usual but instead of being met with hostility, he was greeted warmly as he and Lord Zane walked past them and walked through the entrance. The crevice they walked through was pitch black. Following the light of the elf lord’s wings, he worried that he might get stuck between the wedged walls.

Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel and upon entering the light he was met with a breathtaking sight. This was it--the forbidden elven city that he had strived so single-mindedly to see firsthand. It was everything he thought it would be and more. His dreams had finally come true.

Wooden huts of varying sizes with grass roofs that lined the cliff, glowing white evening blooms that lined the walkways to light up the path at night, spectacular waterfalls leading into flowing rivers of pristine water— it was all there. The sweet smell of flowers and grass was overwhelming. It was as if he had entered heaven itself. Genius wanted to write down in his notes everything he was seeing. He even wanted to draw pictures of it but he was positively entranced by the very thought of being there.

“I suppose you would like a tour.” Lord Zane turned to face Genius.

“I would like that very much, your lordship.” Genius tried to hold back his tears of joy.

~~~

The day eventually drew to a close. The sun was beginning to set and Genius was satisfied with how much he had filled up his notebook with information and sketches of everything he saw and learned that day. He felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. This was the most progress he had ever made in his research on elves and the entire day, he felt like a kid in a candy store. However, there was one place he had not yet gotten a chance to see but couldn’t bring himself to ask Lord Zane for because he felt like it would come across as ungrateful.

“You want to see my house, I assume?” Lord Zane turned to Genius.

Genius grinned and nodded. Containing his excitement was nearly impossible. Lord Zane drew back the leafy veil in the doorway to his house and beckoned the boy inside.

His house was much like some of the other buildings he had seen but much larger. There were plants growing from every surface, it seemed. One thing he had taken note of was that the elves didn’t seem to feel the need to destroy nature in order to build a home of their own. They tended to let nature grow around them. If it wasn’t already apparent in the other buildings he had seen, it was definitely so here.

To the right, Genius saw a large table that had various papers scattered about on it in addition to other miscellaneous clutter. To the left, a couch and in front of him was a throne. There looked like there was also an upper level to the house but he hadn’t cared to ask what was up there.

“Well, I suppose now you’ve seen everything.” Lord Zane made his way to the table, his back to Genius. He didn’t bother to turn around as he continued, “Did you take a lot of notes?”

Genius smiled, “Yes, your lordship. I did.”

“Have you written down everything you wished to record?”

“Yes, sir.” he nodded proudly.

The tone in the man’s voice seemed to change, “You possess some valuable information. You’ve learned everything there is to know about us. I hope you’re satisfied now because unfortunately for you…” Lord Zane slowly turned around, revealing a sharp, silver letter opener gripped in his hand that he had kept concealed under the mess of papers, “The only place you can take this information is to your grave.”

Genius peered down at the blade in both shock and horror. His adrenaline rushed and his heart pounded loudly in his ears. In a panic he barely realised that he had dropped his notebook as he was backing away from the armed elf lord.

Some loose pages from the notebook fell out and scattered about the floor. Lord Zane stepped on them as he advanced toward the boy with his blade raised, light gleaming from the reflection. Closer and closer the elf lord came and louder and louder the boy’s heart pounded. The sound of it deafened everything else around him except his own shrilling cries which were soon turned into muffled screams. The pages, the notes, the sketches were now ruined by blood stains.

[sharada-n]

As it is now officially the new year I can share the piece I did for the Papchat Secret Santa 2019 exchange! It was a lot of fun to write some Undertale again that wasn’t so angst focused and more of a fluffy piece ^^

Sans never considered himself to be the responsible adult.

He had found he rather played the part of the fun uncle for Frisk at best and even back when they lived in Snowdin Papyrus was the one always cleaning around the house, cooking, making sure their bills were paid. Sans wasn't very good at worrying about those things, or too lazy to bother with them. But that doesn't mean he can't be the responsible adult if the situation calls for it, everybody has to draw the line somewhere after all.

And Sans draws the line at serious bodily harm.

That's what compels him to say it out loud, even if a bigger part of him knows it's probably useless anyway. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Papyrus laughs. Honest to god cackles and Gaster follows suit, a deep chuckle that kind of catches Sans by surprise. It's been a few weeks, but he still needs to get used to having their father here again. "Having good ideas is not important," Papyrus says, with the kind of overblown confidence people usually display right before they break every single bone in their body and it only makes Sans more nervous. "Having fun is!"

"I'm all about having fun," He answers. "But this particular idea feels a little...deadly."

"I would be offended by your assumption that my calculations are that off," Gaster answers, staring down the hill with an assessing gaze. Sans is quite sure you can't determine the angle of a downward slope with the naked eye but what does he know. "If I wasn't so busy being puzzled by your assumptions that we can die."

"Says the guy who just came back to life after being dead for over a decade," Sans retorts. "Thanks to your calculations being way off I might add."

"Not dead," Gaster shoots back, while Papyrus is busy putting the final touches on their sled. "That would have probably been less... upsetting."

The way he says it is so casual it robs Sans from any response. Their father talks about his accident like it was a momentary stroll to the store that just so happened to delay him for years and as he watches Papyrus unfurl an honest to god sail, complete with little skull flag on the top, Sans wonders how, somewhere along the way, he became the most normal member in the Wingdings family.

"Papyrus," He says, both because their father looks too busy determining their ideal trajectory to pay attention and also because he is seriously worried. "You do know a sail is meant to catch the wind coming from behind, right. To go faster?"

"Excellent explanation of the functionality of sails on boats, brother." Papyrus answers, connecting the mast to their sled. The thing is made entirely from wood and painted expertly by Papyrus himself and it reminds Sans of the bridge back in Snowdin. "Good thing this is not a boat."

"Could have fooled me."

"The sail will be tied up while we speed down, but as we reach peak velocity we can deploy it to slow ourselves to an amiable meander. A reverse sail, if you will." Papyrus stands up, admires his horrid creation like a parent sending their firstborn off to university. "Except the wind is coming from a forward direction instead of backward like a typical ship sail. Which makes it pretty confusing namewise."

"I do believe between the reverse sail, the angle of the descent and the combined weight of us and the sled, the landing will stick," Gaster adds, smiling with unrestrained glee and Sans feels the concern grow. He admires both his father and his brother in their own unique passions for physics, much like his own, but just wishes they would use it for something besides death rides and scattering yourself across time and space.

But to each their own.

"Well, it's your funeral." He says, watching as the other two skeletons fit themselves in the carefully carved out seats Papyrus designed for them, leaving the first one empty. "It certainly was ice knowing you."

"You need some new material." Papyrus answers, without missing a beat, even though he's smiling.

"Now, Papyrus," Gaster says seriously, "Don't give him the cold shoulder."

Groans are all he gets as answer, from both his sons, followed with an empathic: "I will throw myself off this thing mid-ride." By Papyrus.

Then Gaster pulls a lever Sans hadn't even noticed and fire shoots out of the back of the sled, proving that the two exhaust pipes attached there were not merely for show. Knowing Papyrus as he does, Sans really could have guessed as much. He watches in what can only be described as stunned silence, part admiration and part fear, as the thing takes off at an alarming speed, making short work of the flat distance of the hill's summit and then disappearing downward, while Sans looks on.

The rockets give up about one-third of the way down, perhaps because those two had some sanity left in them but more likely because they didn't manage to fit any more fuel into the sled's contraption. Another third and Papyrus deploys the sail, the skull flag at the top flapping bravely in the wind and it takes Sans all but three seconds to realize it's not slowing them down nearly enough. Or at all. Unsurprisingly, as soon as the sled hits a bump it crashes spectacularly, flying in a neat little arc then nose-diving again, throwing both occupants out of the vehicle in an almost impressive display of the unrelenting force of gravity.

Sans holds his breath for a moment, two, then he hears the echoing laughter from the distance and sees Gaster throwing him a thumbs up and he starts sauntering slowly down the hill. No need to hurry, after all.

By the time he makes it down there, a trip that took the sled a few minutes at most but takes Sans a whopping ten minutes at the leisure pace he uses for non-emergencies, Papyrus has already managed to put the thing upright again and is noting the damage, Gaster is scribbling in his notebook with renewed vigor.

"So that went well." He says, while Papyrus lifts him up effortlessly and spins him around.

"It went perfectly!" His brother exclaims proudly, "Better than I had hoped!"

"Did it?" Sans asks as he is put down again, pointing at the warped frame of bottom rails. "Because it looks to me like you crashed."

"Just a little."

"Luckily the snow here is quite thick and cushioned our bodies from exploding into a gazillion tiny bone shards." Gaster adds triumphantly, turning to them.

Sans pushes his hands into his pockets. "What was that about sticking the landing?"

"Well, we probably would have if you had been in the sled. We did calculate for three passengers."

"Thinking I would step into that deathtrap in the first place was your biggest mistake then." Sans laughs but everybody ignores him.

"Sadly we burnt through all our fuel reserves in one go," Papyrus frowns at the rockets as if it was their fault for not being more considerate. "We won't be able to launch it again today to see for different results." Gaster pats him on the back in a consoling gesture.

"That's great because I'm not stepping in that thing," Sans repeats.

Gaster throws him a truly infuriating smirk. "Really, Sans, who would have thought you had become so boring while I was gone."

"I'm not boring for not wanting to die. And not wanting you to die either."

"Sans is very boring." Papyrus agrees with a solemn nod. "He does many things very boringly."

Sans sighs, tries to refrain from cracking his knuckles because he knows how much Papyrus hates it. "Well, excuse me for not wanting to lose something I only just got back, ok?" He mutters and it does stop the others dead in their tracks, smiles falling from their faces suddenly. "We only just got to be together again. There's... there's still a lot I want to do now that we have the chance-"

They are stunned for a moment, Sans doesn't give them much time to think it over though, bending down instead to scoop up a handful of snow and aim it at his father's face. "Like this!"

To his credit, Gaster ducks surprisingly fast for his age and the snowball misses him and hits Papyrus right in the eye instead. Sans burst out laughing at the same moment that Papyrus yelps, shaking the snow out of his socket. His laughter is quickly interrupted by a face full of snow himself however, courtesy of Gaster.

The area quickly devolves into an impromptu battlefield, the sled serving as cover for Papyrus who proceeds to expertly decimate his opponents with his superior aim and effectiveness, rolling masses of snowballs in record time and hurling them with marksman accuracy. Sans could have predicted this, he hadn't won a single snowball fight between the two of them since his brother turned nine, but that didn't mean it wasn't fun. And he definitely got a few hits in on Gaster, who despite his initial ducking wasn't very adept at snowball fighting himself.

By the end, they had no choice but to declare Papyrus the ultimate snowman (a title he chooses for himself) and Sans "soaked to the bone", pun intended. He didn't wear a coat, because the cold usually wasn't a problem, but now both his hoodie and short are heavy with melted snow and too wet for comfort. He grimaces at them.

"I guess we should postpone our sled relaunch until next time," Papyrus says, lifting the entire thing with just one hand. "When I have convinced the black market human to sell me more fuel."

Sans decides to ignore how concerning that statement is, instead focusing on Gaster, busy brushing the snow off his black coat. "Are we going to let him do that?"

"I don't see a reason not to."

Sans nods, "Of course you don't."

"Instead," Gaster says, as they start following Papyrus, who is by now lifting the sled high above his head with the skull flag still waving in the wind. "How about you tell me some of those other things you still want to do together now that I'm back."

"Right," Sans says, and the sky is strikingly clear but with dusk setting in he can just see the twinkle of stars in the distance. "That would be nice."

[chunhua-s]

CHERRY RED  ➽ ASAHI AZUMANE X OC

genre: ongoing, fluff

warnings: mutual pining

Chapter 2: In Apathy’s Lonely Lullaby

That hallway on the first floor had, within her three years spent on Karasuno’s grounds, become something of Sora’s own personal haven. A place where her music filled up the walls and danced on the air like cherry blossom petals, brushing against the cheeks of those that passed by as if it were the hands of a lover that so tenderly touched their skin. Students and teachers always fell into similar reverence whenever they passed through the hallway, abandoning their thoughts and voices in favour of hearing her play and allowing the gentle notes she created to fill up their hearts, for the faster songs to settle heavy on their tongues like molten gold. She was a world-builder, capable of spinning entire universes under the touch of her fingers; an urban legend that was whispered about beneath the waves of her harmonies, hushed words of supernovas and dying stars that sang of unworldly beauties in their final moments.

Her fingers moved seamlessly in their journey across the piano keys, their transition from one note to the next appearing so elegant even with the quick tempo of the piece. Her face was set in the perfect picture of composure, the underlying hums of exhaustion and hunger hidden away by her concentration as she pushed herself into practicing for the upcoming competition. She’d spent the better half of the previous night similarly in the confines of her home, sat with her back straight and hands outstretched to brush against the keys until her body had grown stiff and her mind hazy with neglected dreams. Over the course of two weeks, the time she dedicated to practice had become something of a constant battle, one in which she tirelessly fought with herself to pour her feelings into her music, fill the notes with what she so frequently left unsaid that her audience would be left defenceless against the barrage of it. Over and over, she repeated to herself that she needed overwhelm them, wrap their very breaths between her fingers and pull them from their lungs; leave behind nothing but an empty void waiting to be filled up by the torrent of her emotions. For them to truly understand her; the need grew into something so incessant that the only thing she could think of was the unexplainable craving to carve herself into their hearts and wrap herself around them like a vine, leaving behind such a strong and impactful memory in the wake of her storm that they would see her face whenever they heard a piano play.

She was left breathless by the end of the song, and yet even as each gasp for air was dragged between her parted lips, her red eyes continued to burn against the white music score sat neatly on the sheet holder. It wasn’t enough yet, her feelings weren’t getting across the way she wanted them to. The room still felt too cold, too empty, too desperate and yearning for the sentiments she kept locked away behind cherry lips. Frustration bubbled on the edge of her exhaustion, leaving her to feel drained and near ready to collapse against the grand piano as angry tears threatened to leave star trails across her brown skin. All her effort — her blood, sweat and tears, the countless nights she forced herself to stay awake, pouring out over black and white keys until her stomach cramped in hunger and her vision turned white — and she was still unable to give her heart to the piece. The very thought caused the golden blood running through her veins to burn hot across her body and collect on the back of her tongue, so that she could focus on nothing but the unrelenting bitterness of her inability. So that it would remind her of everything she lacked and tear her apart by the seams, until she was absolutely destroyed and what remained of her star-filled galaxy was left to scatter across dark plains and disappear beneath black holes. It would break her apart, scream at her until her spirit caved in and left Sora Ishida as nothing but an empty shell.

A familiar face appeared in the doorway, and it was as if she relearned how to breathe in the light of caramel brown eyes. His face was painted into the same concerned frown he’d worn that morning, when he saw her emerge from her front door with red lines beneath her eyes and across her nose. And yet, even in his picture of worry and tender care, he appeared unto her as beautifully as he’d always been; the sight of him there with her was enough to still her aching heart and wash her fears away beneath a gentle summer rain.

“Did you eat yet?”

Guilt consuming her under the weight of Asahi’s question, she was left unable to answer as she watched his expression turn from worried to exasperated, his feelings being so effortlessly translated in the heavy sigh he let out. With silent, lumbering steps, he crossed the distance between them with two bento boxes in his hands. He held one out to her wordlessly, his eyes telling of a particularly quiet sternness that was so often absent in his relaxed expressions; she felt as if she were a child being scolded by her senior as she helplessly received the box from his hands, followed after him as he moved to sit beneath the open window, away from the piano.

“I promise I was going to get something from the vending machines before class started again,” she tried to appease him, gingerly taking the spot next to him and gazing down at the lid of the box he gave to her. She felt an appreciative smile grow on her lips and was unable to fight back the swelling of her heart for the cute drawing of Totoro, the large cat depicted over the baby blue colours. A doubtful hum came from the boy next to her as she popped the lid to reveal a very delicate arrangement of rice and curried shrimps, broccoli, and carrots.

“You speak as if anything from the vending machine can keep you alive,” Asahi said, his words light in his sarcasm as he gently unwrapped his own box, a simple wooden thing with small flowers covering the sides. The smell of the delicious food quickly surrounded them like a warm blanket, familiar in its flavour and, as if to prove his words, caused her stomach to rumble its ascent. She felt her skin grow warm in shame, a resigned smile taking its place across her lips as Asahi’s gentle laugh danced on the wind. It was the sound of hushed waters passing through a spring meadow, filled with secrets and promises told to each other beneath the watchful stars, and she wanted more than anything to capture every second of it inside a glass bottle, one that she’d hold close to her heart in every waking moment.

“Mom’s basically badgering me to make sure you’re eating, too,” he admitted to her after swallowing a mouthful of his lunch just as Sora began chewing on hers; she’d nearly missed his words on the high of the delicious flavours on her tongue, feeling herself instantly relax as she absorbed the taste of the curry-covered rice. Heavens, it had been too long since she’d eaten a proper home-cooked meal, considering that both her and her father had been eating store-bought bentos for the past two weeks while her mother left on her travels. Because of her absence, the two had only barely given much thought to properly sustaining themselves on real food, something they wouldn’t have been able to get away with had her mother been at home with them. As Asahi continued speaking on nodes of astonishment and a look of betrayal, she relished in another taste of her rice and curried shrimps. “She rarely ever makes lunch for me anymore, but she made sure to do this for you because she felt like you and your dad wouldn’t be eating well in Olivia-san’s absence — it’s like she forgets who her real child is sometimes, honestly.”

A laugh rang through from her lips at his expense, recognizing the words for their playful nature. “Well,” she hummed, the last of her chuckles tumbling from her mouth like butterflies, “I’ll be sure to come over and tell Mitsuba-san thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Asahi abandoned his faux-frown for his regular, sweet smile, tilting his head to the side in the softness he always bore with him. “She’d like that — she’s really excited to come see you perform again, you know?” At the mention of her upcoming competition, Sora felt her throat lock and tighten around her next breath and her smile drew just a bit tighter, and it was as if the merciless waves that thrashed around in her chest before his arrival were coming back to pull her under.

Sensing her growing turmoil, Asahi’s lips turned down and his concerned frown returned to his face; Sora felt so guilty, watching the peaceful expression he bore fade away into undeserved worry, all because she wasn’t able to keep her feelings in check. He shouldn’t have to worry about her, she silently scolded herself, especially now that he was beginning to get back into volleyball. She should be the one to take away whatever was on his mind, not add extra things for him to worry about when he didn’t need to.

Before she could try and brush away his concerns, she watched his hands lower with his bento and chopsticks until they were rested between his crossed legs and turned his head to fully face her. “Is that what has you so torn up these days?” Ah, had he been able to read her feelings all that time? The guilty feeling worsened, knowing that he’d been watching her eat away at herself for so long when he should have been concentrating on his volleyball practices.

She drew a smile across her lips in hopes that it would ease his worries off her, did her best to reassure him that she was alright. The words “Don’t worry about me, it’s only competition nerves,” fell from her lips and she prayed desperately that he would take them as she gave them, that he wouldn’t think to try and see through them. And yet, she knew Asahi, and she knew that he could read her like an open book, that he could trace every single constellation that scattered across her caramel skin and connect them to show everything she tried to keep masked beneath her passive smile. She saw now, in the way his coffee brown hues searched the expansive, barren lands of her red eyes, that it was futile to hide anything from him; he was picking apart each and every negative emotion that plagued her dreams, and would lay them out between the both of them so that they were no longer concealed.

“You’ve been working yourself a lot these past days,” he muttered as the lines on his forehead deepened in quiet distress for her and her well-being. It made her wish, for his sake at least, that she would have been more careful. “I know you want to do well but you have to take care of yourself too, you know?”

She sighed again, the sound heavy and relenting to the feeling of weakness that crept across her spine like insects. How was she supposed to tell the boy in front of her about what was plaguing her? How could she look at him and tell him sorry that he had to put up with such a boring person for so long? A girl of placid expressions and smiles that never told enough of the happiness she felt whenever she was with him, how could she say sorry for being so plain and apathetic? She tried and tried, but the words wouldn’t come out of her throat. Like a cruel joke, the words of her classmates echoed in her mind, “Really, Ishida-san, you’re too bland! It’s so hard to tell what you’re really thinking!” And though their words were said in a harmless remark, Sora couldn’t help the way that she’d begun to consider them for their weight, dwelling on them for longer than she should have until they began to fester in her mind like an open wound. As bad as she felt for having been the most boring, uninteresting, friend, as cold and lifeless as icy wastelands, she was selfish and didn’t want to let go of the boy who warmed her dead heart with his joy and smiles.

And so, this selfish girl forced her lips to move with a prayer at the back of her throat, that no matter what, she would still be able to latch on to the boy that made her happy. “I have to keep playing, Asahi.” The smile on her lips burned like acid, the doubts and worries that plagued her in the latest hours of the night threatened to choke her with tendons of shadows until she would collapse and fall away. But she kept going, pushed past their restraints so that if anything, at least he would be able to understand her when no one else would. “If I don’t play, then how else will they understand me?”

And there it was. The look that was able to wash away each pain of her heart and fill it up with a never ending well of acceptance for everything she was. Asahi’s smile was so gentle and tender, warm under the afternoon sun where the smell of curried shrimps and chalk dust surrounded them between four walls. In that moment, her entire universe shrunk, compassed itself to fit between the seconds that passed them by like fine gold dust and red rose petals. In the place where her music fell silent and her heart ached for the familiar burn of unexpressed feelings, she felt herself instead embraced by everything that he was, drank up the sunlight that stretched across lavender fields and green grass meadows. Her universe became the hallway on the first floor where students and teachers let their hearts sing on her keys; the piano room that had seen her crack and fall apart and build herself together again; her universe became him.

She felt her heart melt into a puddle when Asahi’s hands cupped her cheeks and lifted her head so that she could meet his gaze once more, so that she could see the endless patience in the smile he bore. He had always been a tender boy with a heart of glass, a little pessimistic and an abstract sense of humour that drew shameless laughter from the depths of her belly. He was a grounding anchor that kept her tethered among harsh waves, a beacon of light in the darkest moments of her life. And with his hands holding her the way they did, he was guiding her out of that darkness to bring her back to him, letting words of comfort and promises of safety dance on the wind and wrap around her heart.

His thumbs rubbed slow, easy circles across her skin and he held his eyes locked with hers, drowning her in pools of caramel and warm coffee. “Isn’t it more important,” his voice came in on a low whisper, one that tickled her ears and caused her heart to flutter, “for you to understand yourself more?”

And suddenly, the universe fell quiet. Everything except for them had suddenly stopped moving, becoming trapped in a vortex of stagnant time flow that left her alone with him. The chalk dust and sakura petals had all become still, and all that remained was his warm smile and the feeling of his palms against her skin. His soft words echoed in their small space with an impact great enough to shatter and recreate the foundations she’d built up in her chest; she could do nothing to fight against it, let herself become swallowed up by him so that he could mould her as he wished. Until she became everything he would want; he only needed to command her and she would act.

“If you’re able to understand yourself, won’t everything turn out alright” He said, “and if it’ll make you feel better, I understand you perfectly fine.”

He was right. Was there any real need for the world to understand her? What would their validation and acceptance bring her save for transparency in places where she preferred obscurity? Just as quickly as her worries had overtaken her, they seemed to dissipate like stardust, crumbling between Asahi’s fingers and leaving back a bright and genuine smile. She lifted her hands to hold on to his, felt the warmth that met against her cold skin and let it fill her up to the brim. “It makes me feel much better,” she told him, grinning back as his lips stretched farther across his face, “it means the world to me.”

As a musician, Sora Ishida could create entire worlds beneath the tips of her fingers, could tell legends in the sounds of the melodies she played. And yet, she decided that there was no world more beautiful than the one where Asahi Azumane remained in her life.

[catscards]

I used to do general readings like this in the past, so i figured that it would be nice to do one again! As with all general readings, you probably won’t relate with every single message! I would suggest that you pick the reading for the sign that your sun, moon or rising is in! Also, keep in mind that my readings are for entertainment purposes only! They can’t replace help from a professional! Have a wonderful September, filled with light and growth! 💕💖🌻

Lastly, i want to wish everyone that has their birthday in September an amazing birthday!

🍄Aries🍄

I honestly think that you need to learn from past mistakes. There is something that is going to happen this month, that might be quite hard to get through if you haven’t learned your lessons. If you are being too controlling, and try to look over every single little thing, you might end up so overwhelmed that you don’t know what to do or where to go anymore. Your focus would get so scattered that it would be hard to move forward in a consistent and actually productive way. This could turn into you loosing something that might be quite important to you. If this happens i think the rest of September is mostly going to consist of you crying over spilled milk, and licking your own wounds. It might in turn also make you extremely worried about loosing other things in your life. On the other hand, i think that if you let go of the things that don’t serve you anymore and surrender to the fact that you won’t be able to have control over everything in your life you’ll have a way more productive month. You are going to feel a lot more creative, which is going to aid you in your projects. In fact, it would boost your morale and feeling of accomplishment to the point that you would be restless to move onto new things to do!  One last thing, please try to be conservative with your money, i don’t know why but something is telling me that you might need to save that extra cash you have laying around. 

🌿Taurus🌿

You have a relationship that causes you disharmony. No matter how small this issue is, you need to seek closure on the thing that causes you disharmony. This does not necessarily mean that you need to let go of the relationship unless you feel like it is necessary. What you need to do though is to communicate your emotions clearly and respectfully with this person, and gain closure on what brings disharmony. I think this would make the month of September way happier on your part, as you might be able to relax way better. I also think that there might be an issue that you don’t seem to be able to progress with in September. This is probably going to manifest in form of a project or task that you need to do. My biggest advice would be that you should ask for help, and listen to what a person with more knowledge has to say about the topic. Learn from them. You are not going to be able to take any shortcuts with this task. Just accept the fact that you are going to get a result based on how much effort you put into it. Unrelated, i think risk taking is something you should avoid. Your might make up your mind about things way too quickly this month, which might result in you making some bad choices. If that happens, forgive yourself. Think about how far you have come, and the fact that most make miscalculated judgements. Overall i don’t think these bad choices is something that is going to affect you too much, as the last card i pulled indicates that you are going to have things under control. You are going to be able to adapt to any mishaps that happen, so there is nothing to worry about.

🌵Gemini🌵

From the get go i can see that you are going to have a new burst of energy in September! I got a bunch of cards indicating you getting inspiration and the energy needed to start something new and fresh! Maybe it is time to focus more on your education or work, or start doing that passion project that you have been planning out in your head? If you feel scared, you should know that things are going to be fine! Take that leap of faith, and use that energy the universe has given you! Please don’t hold yourself back, but as always remember to not be foolish as well. On another note, i noticed that you have a bit of a weird relationship with your money. For some of you, you are being way too cautious with your spending. In September this is going to lead to you feeling left out from your friend group, since you missed out on some really nice time out with them because you didn’t want to spend money. Let yourself go out some time, it won’t hurt you. Also, i think you are going to spend the entire month having a bit of a weird and disharmonious relationship with your family and loved ones because of the fact that you take on way too much of their baggage. Remember that their responsibilities aren’t always yours, and that you shouldn’t take on more of other people’s pain than you can handle. It might damage the relationship you have with them if you do.

The rest of the signs are under the cut!

🍁Cancer🍁

To be completely honest, i think that you are chasing material wealth in a way that might not be entirely healthy. You are trying to heal from a hard situation and time, through focusing too much of your attention to what you still have, which is your possessions and material things. Maybe you put way too much time at school, work or just that you focus too much on the material part of life. I understand that this is a way for you to regain balance in your life, and that you are just grasping onto what you have. In September, i don’t think this is going to work anymore. You need to find a new way, that truly makes you move away from what happened. It might be slightly unconventional, but what works for you works. If you feel scared, i can tell you that i see that you have the strength to pull yourself through this. Just be nice to yourself. Create things. Go out in nature. Become your own best friend. But most importantly, don’t resist change. You are going to have to get rid of some parts of your life, or thought processes that you have been holding onto. This might bring some anxiety, but ultimately you are strong enough to fight that, and get through this pain. 

🌷Leo🌷

In September, you might want to start developing your understanding of the world around you, and how you communicate effectively. Maybe you came to the conclusion that you had been relating to things in a way that wasn’t beneficial for you. Though i think that you might actually have a hard time actually developing those things, because you draw way too many boundaries around yourself. Maybe this is because of you having a really bad experience around an emotionally immature person, that in hand also made it hard for you to actually have healthy relationships with other people? It is time to let those patterns, and if that emotionally immature person is still in your life let them go too. You are probably holding onto them because that’s what you are used to, and that is what makes you feel safe. In reality though, you need to have the respect for yourself and cut the things that are bad for you out, even if it means that you need to confront people and things in yourself. Confrontation can be so hard, but i truly think that you are strong enough to do what you think is best for yourself. Just act patiently, with your own best interest in mind when it comes to this.

🌺Virgo🌺

Was there something that ended recently that you haven’t entirely gotten over? Because it seems like that’s what’s going on. In September it’s still going to affect how you see the people around you. Maybe you are going to pull back a bit, because you feel as if people are disingenuous. Because of this you might reach a stalemate, because your relationships make you feel out of control but you don’t know how to regain that sense of security you had in your relationships in the past. Ultimately, you need to first find that security that you are seeking within yourself. Be patient with yourself, and do things with purpose. When you feel secure and balanced within, you should try starting to deal with the disharmony around you. That disharmony ultimately comes from the fact that you choose to give more of yourself than others do in relationships, which might leave you feeling used or just completely exhausted. If you try finding more equality in your relationship i think that you will feel more in control of your surroundings and what is going on in September.

🌸Libra🌸

Do you have a person that you feel as if you connect really easily with? A person you share a similar outlook on life with, and that have your back? If not, i think a person like that might pop up during September, because i see feelings like that being significant for you this month. I think that these feelings and this person finally pushes you out of your comfort zone, which makes you start a project that is going to give a new start for you financially. You might have planned this thing out for a long time, but didn’t have the guts to follow through. I think this person is going to inspire you and also support you along the way. Unrelated to that person, but i think that you harbor some pain in your heart. You are keeping negative feelings from the past, that doesn’t serve you anymore. This is making your path towards truly feeling like you don’t have anything that is weighing you down emotionally take so much longer. You really need to start working on this, so you can feel light again. I think that something to keep in mind is that you have all the answers you need, but you haven’t been able to see them. I think that in September you might actually start realizing what you need to do. A key to that would be to look within yourself for happiness instead of relying on other people and circumstances to be happy and grateful about your life.

🌻Scorpio🌻

Why do you keep looking towards the things that you don’t have in your life, when there are so many things that you have? There are opportunities that you miss, because you keep focusing on everything else. Be a bit more mindful of what you have, out of respect for yourself. In September you are going to keep resisting change, maybe because you are sitting and waiting around for something that you hope one day will come. Why do you do that? It seems like you have so many plans for the future, that you just don’t act upon. Make the choice and actually start working towards your dreams instead of sitting around waiting for something that isn’t available for you at this moment. Stop holding the grudge on yourself for not acting differently in the past. What is done is done, and if you forgive yourself you are going to be able to regain a sense of control and security, which is going to make it easier to see the whole picture instead of focusing on the small details of the past.

🍀Sagittarius🍀

There is going to be a disagreement of sorts in September. Maybe there is someone that you are close to that won’t really agree with some choices that you have done. None the less you, i think you might feel overwhelmed for a bit because you have to look within yourself to get the validation that you crave. That might feel a bit lonely and hard, but truly you just have to keep going. You are strong enough to go through this. Unfortunately, i don’t really see anyone getting out of this disagreement feeling fine, as it might damage thee relationship. But don’t worry. Even if i pulled a lot of cards about this disagreement, there are good things as well. The two last cards i pulled indicate really positive things so everything is going to turn out fine, and in the end you might not feel super affected by the disagreement. September is going to be filled with light in other areas of your life, it’s going to feel really refreshing and like a breath of new air. You might actually feel better than you did in August, almost as if you can experience life to the fullest again. Despite everything you are going to feel happy. Just protect yourself from the negativity, and surround yourself with people that are loving!

🌳Capricorn🌳

In September you might feel like you want to walk away from something, because it hasn’t reached the point of accomplishment that you would like. The thing is though, that this thing you want to walk away from has developed so much, it’s just that you aren’t paying attention. I think that you are focusing way too much on the fact that things are moving slowly, instead of seeing how it has developed. Feeling like you haven’t accomplished anything is absolutely going to cloud your vision a bit, as it might make you feel like you can’t center yourself, and that it’s your fault that you haven’t gotten to the point where you wanted to be. Truly, i think that you should be nicer to yourself in September. Don’t hold yourself to such a high standard. You are not going to reach success as quickly as you expect, and in turn it’s just going to make you feel bad because you didn’t reach your own unreasonable expectations. Go with the flow, but at the same time have control over your situation and what you are doing. Expect yourself to do good, but do so in a kind way. You wouldn’t start hating a friend just because they didn’t accomplish what was expected of them, so why would you hate yourself for it?

🌼Aquarius🌼

The main thing i see in September is that you are over investing your time into work or school. You put way too much thought and effort into it, mostly because of you being a perfectionist. None the less, it has to be exhausting? Why do you feel like you have to overwork yourself to reach the next stage on your journey? From what i can see, you are going to reach the result you want, as i see that you are almost reaching a significant milestone. For September, i think you should remember to continue having hope, as it seems like you are currently doubting that things are going to turn out fine. You might feel as if you can’t see the bigger picture, and that’s why you are focusing so much on the details. Why do you feel as if you are fumbling in the dark for answers? Reflect over if your current goals still reflect what you truly want. It might be hard to find perspective if you are working towards something that won’t serve you anymore. Unrelated to this, but in September please permit yourself to have fun. Go out with your friends, and try not thinking about school or work or anything. Live in the moment for those times, and try having as nice of a time as possible. I think it might be a nice break that will give you new motivation!

🌴Pisces🌴

It seems like there is going to be a certain extent of you dreaming for things instead of going after them in September. You might be hoping and dreaming for good grades, a promotion or a new relationship, but it doesn’t seem like you are going to go after it. This might be because you are focusing on taking care of yourself this month, instead of going after things, and in that case it’s great that you are working on yourself! Though, i think that a part of why you choose not to act is because you are scared of unfinished business that is lingering in your life. Why are you choosing not to resolve things that are kind of messy right now? Is it because you don’t know how to do it? I truly think what’s stopping you is your own self doubt. It makes you avoid looking at the big picture, which limits your ability to actually act. You are kind of digging yourself into being stuck in this situation, since you are stalling. Perhaps it’s just better to take care of it, instead of waiting and possibly making it worse. 

[unpack-my-heart]

IT Fandom Prompt Week - Day 7 - Famous / Band AU

@constantreaderfool​ @xandertheundead​ @tinyarmedtrex​

Final Prompt for IT Prompt week 2019. 

Read on AO3 HERE

Like many people, the first metal band that Eddie listened to was Metallica. He was 16, and had spent the day at Bev’s house, the balmy evening sun hanging heavy and bloated in the sky. They’d sat at the bottom of her garden, legs bare and grass between their toes. Bev’s old cassette tape player was balanced precariously on a rickety wooden chair, the tapes lay scattered around the grass, like plastic flowers. Eye’s half-closed, Eddie was listening to Bev tell him about the book she’d been reading, and how he should read it before they start their college degrees in the fall. Bev’s voice, pitchy and animated, fought with Morrissey’s crooning voice, and Eddie let himself swim in the noise. That was, until Bev changed the tape, and an unrelenting guitar riff came booming out of the tinny speakers. Eddie’s eyes snapped open.

“Who’s this?” Eddie asked, shifting so he was propped up against the fence.

“Huh? Oh, Metallica. They’re pretty good, right!”

“Yeah,” Eddie mused, bobbing his head slightly along with the rhythmic chugging of the guitar, “yeah they’re pretty good”

That night, Eddie had practically skipped home, fanny-pack stuffed with as many cassette tapes as Bev could wedge in there without breaking the zip. The bands are those he has never heard of before, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Nine Inch Nails. Bev promised that he’ll love them, and he trusted her.

A few days later, Eddie escaped the stifling confines of his mother’s house to join Bev on a trip to the local record store. Bev immediately tugged him over to the ‘rock and metal’ section, where they spent ages flicking through the tapes, Bev filling Eddie’s hands with tapes in a matter of minutes. Eddie, who had felt out of place in a dingy record store in his pressed khakis and pastel yellow polo shirt, had immediately struck up a conversation with the friendly guy behind the counter, who couldn’t have been any older than he was.

“First time?” The guy asked, picking through the tapes that Eddie had dumped on the counter, looking for the price stickers.

“Pardon?”  

“First time somewhere like this? You have the first time kinda look, like you’re afraid the tapes will bite you or something”

“Oh,” Eddie replied, scuffing his feet on the floor, “Yeah, it’s my first time. Bev said she’d been in here loads and it’s cheaper than the store downtown, so…”

The guy laughed, a warm laugh that rang in the quiet store like a bell.

“Yeah, Bev’s in here a lot. Doesn’t spend much money, though !”

“Bite me, Hanlon”

“Ever the charmer, Miss Marsh,” The guy turned back to Eddie, “As rude as she is, Bev has good taste. You’re definitely in safe hands, but you can always come in here and I can help you, if you get sick of her forcing you to listen to Trent Reznor’s entire discography over and over and over again”

“I’m warning you, Michael!” Bev hollered, brandishing a vinyl record like a weapon.

– X –

Soon enough, Eddie fell into a routine. He’d wait until his mother fell into a deep, sleeping-pill induced sleep in front of her soap operas, and shut the lounge room door, painfully slowly to stop it creaking. Then, he’d charge upstairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Whilst Eddie looked everything the picture-perfect poster-boy for “good boys” everywhere, from his perfectly coiffed hair, his crisp, 100% cotton polo shirts, and even down to his sensible, chalk-white sketchers,  he had a secret hiding under his bed.

Under his bed, behind the stacks of biology and chemistry textbooks and old shoes that don’t fit him anymore, lurks a small metal box, and a rusty cassette player. The metal box is home to his ever expanding collection of tapes, and he’d take great pleasure in passing his fingers over the spines of the cases, like he was choosing the biggest, most decadent chocolate in the box. His fingers almost always landed on Metallica first, his gate-way drug. He’d disrobe the tape, and place it into the cassette player, but not before he’d plugged his monstrously large headphones into the jack. Cranking up the volume, Eddie would place the cassette player next to him on the bed, and lie back, and drift.

Master of puppets I'm pulling your strings Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Eddie would spend hours listening to Rob Halford’s demonic screaming if his mother had been particularly taxing that evening, or if his day had been slow and lazy, Ozzy Osborne would sing him to sleep, regaling him with tales of faeries dancing with dwarves. Soon enough, and without any real effort, Eddie became a secret, but die-hard, metal-head.

– X –

A note hit the back of Eddie’s head in chemistry.

Anthrax are playing at oil slick in Bangor! We gotta go. B x

Eddie tries to protest, he really does. He sits under the bleachers with Bev at lunch, and tries to convince her that he’d never be allowed to go to a show in Bangor, that his mother would never let him, that he can’t lie to her, really Bev, I’ve tried, I’m a terrible liar.

She doesn’t take no for an answer, and sure enough, when the night of the show arrives, Eddie is sat in his bedroom at half past six, practically vibrating with nerves. He knew that his mother would be dead to the world in a few minutes, passed out for a whole twelve hours. Eddie thanked the God of Nyquil and prescription medicine. When the familiar rumble of his mother’s snores starts to seep through his floorboards, Eddie throws open his window, takes a deep breath, and leaps like a frog onto the branch of the big tree that stands dormant outside his window.

He runs straight to Bev’s aunts house, and they both clamber in her rickety Sedan, Bev, who had recently turned 17 and was now trusted with her Aunt’s car, at the wheel. Eddie was wearing the black straight-leg jeans he’d begged his mother to buy him, and Beverly Marsh, his lord and saviour, had lent him one of her old leather jackets and her Iron Maiden tour shirt that fit him like a glove. Together with Bev clad in enough leather to upholster a couch, they drove to Bangor.

Eddie had the best night of his life, and crawled back in through his bedroom window at four am the next morning, sweaty and disgusting, but happier than he’d been in years.

– X –

When Bev’s aunt gets a PR job at Iron Horns, the best heavy metal festival this side of the Atlantic, Eddie almost squeezes the life out of Bev when she invites him to go with them. He was eighteen, and on the precipice of adulthood. He’s staring down the crevasse of responsibility, college degrees, mortgages and student loan repayments, and the void is staring straight back at him. He toyed with the idea of telling his mother that her little Eddie-Bear spends his weekends lurking in dive bars listening to boys with longer hair than most girls scream into the microphone, and he plans on getting dirty in a field for a weekend with his best friend.

He, of course, doesn’t do this, and instead told his mother that Bill and Ben have invited him to go camping with them, and he wanted to go. Predictably, she wasn’t happy, and bleated on at him about bears and poison ivy until she was blue in the face and panting, but she couldn’t catch Eddie as he sprinted down the path, backpack bulging on his back, pop-up tent in hand.

Iron Horn’s was huge. The site was a sprawling sea of grass, tents and stages, and as they drove down the make-shift drive-way to the staff car-park, Eddie could feel himself begin to panic. His hand instinctively tried to find the inhaler he has stashed in his fanny-pack, but Bev’s hand caught his hand in hers and squeezed. They held hands until they got out of the car.

Bev’s Aunt Lucy was ‘head of logistics’ for the entire festival, something that makes Eddie gawp with awe, and because she was such an important cog in the machine of the festival, they had arrived one day before the music started. Lucy was also able to throw her weight around a bit and swing them a camping plot in the staff and VIP section of the festival, something that calmed Eddie’s nervous jitters. The staff camping had a regular block of toilets, so he wouldn’t have to venture into alien territory … the dreaded porta-loo.

The staff camping ground is made up of plots of grass for people to pitch tents, but it also had porta-cabins for the musicians. Eddie scanned the names on the doors, finding that he recognises all but one of the bands.

“Bev, who are Crimson Nightmare?” Eddie asked Bev, trying to help her pitch their tent, but mostly just getting in her way.

“Huh. I have no idea, but they’re headlining the second day so I guess they’re probably pretty good”  Bev huffed, trying to bash the tent-pegs into the firm ground with the heel of her boot.

Once they (or rather, Bev) had finished pitching their tent, they both clambered inside with their bags, and proceeded to get changed out of their travelling clothes. Most of the clothes that Eddie has brought with him are Bev’s hand-me-downs, or things that she’s bought him for Christmas, or just because. Eddie changes into one of Bev’s ripped Judas Priest shirts, and a pair of her tightest black skinny jeans that just about fit him if he doesn’t breathe too deeply. Luckily, because Bev’s feet are the size of common shrews, Eddie has his own boots that he’d saved up for with money from various birthday’s. Obviously he can’t keep the boots at home because his mother would find them and burn them in a sacrifice to the God’s of easy listening music, so they live in the trunk of Bev’s Aunt’s car for him to change into when they go to shows. They’re beaten up old black Docs that he bought in a thrift shop. He swapped out the characteristic yellow laces for rainbow ones, and he let Bill draw dancing skeletons on them in white sharpie. Eddie treasured those damn boots.

Once they’re changed, Eddie and Bev head over to the VIP tent where they grab some food. The VIP tent was home to a catering service, and a small bar for the staff and the musicians to wind down in the evening. Upon walking through the entrance flap, Eddie was immediately star-struck. There are people from his favourite bands milling around, talking to each other, laughing, shouting, existing. As he looked around, Eddie realised that no-one else looked quite as starstruck as he did, which made him feel all sorts of ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. He continued to stare at Layne Staley.

Once Eddie and Bev had finished their food, and Eddie was trying not to stare at the lead singer from Steel Martyr too much, he caught the eye of a tall guy with intense dark eyes and a wicked smile leaning nonchalantly against the bar. Eddie doesn’t recognise him, so he assumed that he must be a light tech, or an audio engineer, or maybe even a roadie. He also looks very young, perhaps no older than nineteen. This, accompanied with the fact that he’s wearing sweatpants with an old hoodie, suggested to Eddie that he couldn’t be a member of a metal band. The guy held Eddie’s gaze for a beat too long, and before he glanced back to the bartender, the stranger winked at Eddie.

Against his will, Eddie felt the all too familiar heat in his cheeks – an unfortunate indication that his face was blooming a violent scarlet red. Eddie snapped his head away, eliciting an loud bark of laughter from the stranger at the bar. Bev, who had been too busy trying to surreptitiously roll a joint under the table, looks up when she heard the laugh.

“Eddie, why is that guy over there staring at you?”

“…Wuh-What?,” Eddie stutters, fertilizing the glint in Bev’s eye, “What guy? There’s no guy”

“Uh… Yeah there is, that one” Bev snorts, and turned in her seat to point directly at the stranger, who waved at her.

“Him? What about him? I don’t even know him” Eddie mumbled, staring very intently at an interesting speck of dirt on the floor.

“Well, he’s been staring at you since we got here, he laughed at you about thirty seconds ago, and now he’s coming over here”

“WHAT!”

“Yeah, he’s totally coming over here!” Bev squealed, looking positively gleeful.

Eddie snapped his head up, and sure enough, the stranger in the sweatpants was striding over purposefully, his eyes glued on Eddie.

Eddie stared back at him, eyes owlish and ridiculous.

“I guess I’m gonna have to make the first move, then?” was the first thing the sweatpants-stranger said, as he plonked himself down in the empty seat to Eddie’s right.

“Um” was all Eddie said in response.

Bev was thirty seconds away from howling with laughter judging by the look on her face, and Eddie prayed that embarrassment was a painless way to die.

“Hi! I’m Bev, and this beetroot looking thing here is Eddie”

“Nice to meetcha, Red. The name’s Richie. D’ya have a voice, short-stack?”

“I do as it happens” Eddie replied, snottily.

“Oof. I like ‘em spicy. Come here often?”

“Do you speak only in pick-up lines or are you capable of stringing a coherent sentence together?”

“Get yer coat love, you’ve pulled”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and angled his body away from Richie’s.

He knew what this game was, and he intended to play to win.

“Hey now, I’m just playing with you” Richie cooed, taking Eddie’s bait, “In all seriousness, whatcha doing here? You performing this weekend?”

“Naw, my Aunt is the head of logistics for the fest so we came along for the ride. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Tool for the fifth time!” Bev responded, speaking for Eddie, who raised his eyebrows at her gratefully.

“Ah, of course. Gotta admit, I’m pretty heartbroken I’m not gonna get to see little Eddie Spaghetti losing his shit on that big stage, though. I bet that’s a real pretty sight”

“And what are you doing here, then? Light tech, or something?” Eddie interjected, a feeble attempt to steer the conversation away from himself.

“Something like that. A bitta’ this, a bitta’ that. Jack of all trades, me”

Eddie wasn’t entirely satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t push it any further.

“Can I get you both a drink?” Richie asked, drawing Eddie out of his introspection.

“Are you over twenty-one?” Eddie affirmed, sceptical.

“Nah, but I’ve known Jonsey for a few years now. He’s not worried about silly little things like legal drinking ages”

“Uh ..,” Eddie looked at Bev for confirmation, and much to his chagrin Bev gave him the most ridiculous, and most unsubtle thumbs up ever.

“Okay, sure,” Eddie relents, “just get me whatever you’re having”

“Are you sure you can handle that?” Richard said with a wink. Eddie stared at the floor again, eyes wandering over Richie’s boots. The laces were not proper laces at all, and were instead blue string, frayed and threadbare.

“I’ll have a jack and coke, if you’d be so kind. Lotta Jack, not so much coke” Bev asks, smiling up at Richie.

“That’s a lot of booze for a young lady like yourself” Richie drawled in something Eddie supposed was supposed to be a southern accent.

“Bite me”

“If you’re sure”

Eddie sort of expected Bev to tell Richie to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She did something much more surprising.

“Hey Eddie, why don’t you go and help Richie carry the drinks? I’m just gonna –“ she gestures to the opening of the tent and waggles the spliff between her fingers.

“Aw, man. I’m hitting on the wrong person here. Any chance of a do-over, Red?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance, Trashmouth. I’ll be back in a few, Eddie, go help with the drinks!” Bev says again, a little bit more insistent this time.

“What a marvellous idea! Come on, Spaghetti” Richie announced, sending a look towards Bev that Eddie didn’t understand.

Eddie stood up, wordless, and followed Richie towards the bar, but not before sending a silent “what the fuck?!” Bev’s way. She just smiled at him, stuck her thumbs up, and disappeared out of the tent.

Eddie waited at the bar with Richie, who was drumming out the beat of a song that Eddie doesn’t recognise on the polished wood.

“Bev has a girlfriend, you know,” Eddie blurted out before he could stop himself, “just so you, y’know … know”

“Does she? That’s nice. Now, do you have a boytoy, Mr Eds?”

“but … aren’t you trying to hit on her?”

“Uh, I’m definitely trying to hit on someone, but it ain’t Red”

“Then … who …”

Richie looked at Eddie square in the face with epitome of are you shitting me written across his face.

“…oh”

“Yeah, Oh” Richie mocked, laughing. Eddie couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were glittering despite the low light of the tent.

Unsure of what to say, Eddie remained silent for a few beats too long, but he was saved when the bartender came over to take their order. Richie orders Bev’s drink, before also ordering two pints of hard cider, one of which he passes to Eddie.

“So, to return to our previous conversation, is there a Mrs Eddie Spaghetti waiting for you at home?”

“Okay, you gotta stop with all this spaghetti stuff. It’s just Eddie”

“Sure. Is there a Mrs Just-Eddie waiting for you at home?”

“Wait – hang on. How did you even know I like men?”

“Lucky guess” Richie boasted, waggling his eyebrows.

Eddie stared at him until Richie burst out laughing.

“No, Seriously! It was a lucky guess. I was fully prepared for you to tell me that Red was your girl and that I’d have to slink off with my tail in between my legs”

“Bev will find that hilarious when I tell her that”

“C’mon, S’getti you’re killing me,” Richie groaned, “should I persist in my pathetic attempts to woo you or am I wasting my time?”

Eddie pretended to think, and rubbed his chin with the hand that wasn’t holding his cider.

“I’m not sure I wanna tell you, yet. I’m quite enjoying watching you squirm”

“You sadist” Richie shot back immediately.

Eddie stood up on his tiptoes and whispered, “you don’t know the half of it” directly into the shell of Richie’s ear, before he swiftly turned on his heel and slinked back to the table.

“I’m taking that as a ‘Yes, Richie, please continue trying to get into my pants!’” Richie yelled after him.

Eddie threw his head back, and laughed.

– X –

When they got back to their tent that evening after staggering back across the field, Bev and Eddie collapsed onto the same tiny air mattress and curled around each other like inebriated kittens.

“Sooooo?” Bev drawled, as she tried to pull her boots off without unlacing them first.

“Whazzit? What?”

“Richie? D’ya like him? Because I’m pretty sure he’s gone all kissy-kissy-mushy-mushy over a certain little spaghetttiiiiii”

“oh m’god, shut’p,” Eddie slurred, and he tried to hit Bev on the arm but missed by a good six inches, “he’s just … uh … flirtatious”

“Naw, Eddie, he’s desperate to, y’know, get in there!” Bev laughed hysterically, as she pointed at Eddie’s crotch.

Eddie rolled his eyes, at least he thought he did, he’s definitely too drunk to tell.

“C’mere, tiny, I wanna spooooon” Bev moaned, grabbing Eddie.

They both fell asleep almost instantly after that, Bev’s arm wrapped snugly around Eddie’s waist.

– X –

The next morning Eddie woke up with a mouth that tasted like he’d gargled with white spirit, and, surprisingly, no headache and a stomach that only felt a tiny bit like a whirlpool.

Bev, on the other hand, wailed like a banshee when Eddie shifted on the air mattress to open the tent flap, letting a stream of cool air into the tent.

“Edward, I will cut off you bollocks if you let any more light in”

Eddie slipped out of the tent, leaving Bev to her hangover. The sun was already high in the sky, and Eddie guessed it couldn’t have been earlier than eleven or midday. His mother would definitely never have let him sleep in this late. The music started today, the first band taking to the main stage at 3pm. There seemed to be more people than Eddie had ever seen in his life charging around the staff camping grounds, carrying various bits of rigging, instruments and electrical equipment. Eddie sat on the grass outside his tent, trying to psyche himself up enough to make the long, arduous 500 metre walk to the bathrooms to brush his teeth, when a large hand clamped on his shoulder. Eddie barely managed to suppress his scream.

“Howdy, neighbour!”

“Oh my God, it’s you”

“That isn’t a very nice way to greet your beloved now is it, Eddie?”

“I thought I’d dreamt you up in an alcohol-induced fever dream” Eddie deadpanned as Richie all but threw himself down on the grass next to him.

“Naw,” was all Richie said, closing his eyes against the light of the sun. Eddie swore he could see the freckles scattered across the bridge of Richie’s nose multiply in front of his eyes.

They sat without talking for a while, listening to the hustle and bustle of the campsite. Richie looked exhausted, and Eddie wanted to let Richie rest his head in his lap while he stroked Richie’s wild hair until he was snoring.

“So … plan on seeing any good bands today?” Eddie asked awkwardly, consciously aware of the fact that the Dutch courage previously coursing through his veins had evaporated overnight.

“I dunno, yet. Who are you going to see?”

“Bev wants to see Def Leppard, who I’m not majorly fussed about, but I have to go see ‘em if she’ll even think about coming with me to see Kiss”

“Where is Red this morning, anyway? Is that … is that tent of yours empty?”

“She’s still asleep”

“Cockblock” Richie cursed under his breath, just loud enough for Eddie to hear it.

“You’re very presumptuous, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of this” Richie replied, with a serious edge to his voice.

Eddie blinked.

“Make a habit of what?” Eddie asked, dumbly.

“This,” Richie gestured to Eddie and then back to himself and repeated the action, “I’m not … I don’t do this stuff”

“Richie, I’m confused”

“Never mind, sugar. I’ll explain it to you when you’re older”

Before Eddie could protest that he wanted Richie to explain his cryptic message now and not later, a rather dishevelled and grumpy looking Bev poked her head out of the tent.

“Okay. One, Eddie, I love you but you are so dense that light bends around you. Two, can you guys go flirt somewhere else please, it’s making my stomach churn”

“Top o’the mornin’ to ya, lassie!” Richie bellowed in an awful Irish accent, shuffling closer to Eddie to allow Bev more space to clamber out of the tent.

Bev collapsed on the grass next to them, rubbing her head.

“Do you have any painkillers in that magic fanny-pack of yours?” She asked Eddie, a pitiful twang to her voice.

Eddie nodded, and climbed back into the tent to search for the fanny-pack. When he’d grabbed it and climbed back out of the tent, Bev and Richie were sitting close, heads together, whispering frantically about something that Eddie couldn’t hear. Bev’s face was stern, like she was scolding a small child who had broken her favourite mug, and Richie’s eyebrows looked very insistent, but also vaguely scared. They sprang apart when Eddie climbed back out of the tent, painkillers in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He passed both items to Bev, who hoovered up two painkillers quicker than Eddie could blink.

“I gotta skedaddle now, my love. Promise you’ll stay faithful as you wait for me,” Richie announced as he stood up, and brushed stray blades of grass off his jeans.

“I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, Rich,” Eddie tried to joke, but it fell flat as Richie’s smile, only for the briefest of seconds, was replaced by a mask of hurt.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” and with that, Richie sauntered off, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head hanging uncharacteristically low.

“Eddie, what I need you to do right now, is go after him and apologise for being a dick”

“What did I do?!”

“You know exactly what you did”

Eddie did know.

The truth was, Eddie was harbouring a crush on Richie that was growing exponentially. He’d spotted him immediately as they’d walked into the VIP tent the day before. His heart had thumped wildly the entire time they sat close together, drinking cider and laughing, and he’d almost vomited every time Richie’s arm brushed his. Eddie had it bad. He knew this. But, try as he might, something kept him from entirely letting go. Something about the fact they’d met at a festival, miles and miles away from Eddie’s home town, and they’d probably never see each other again. He’d never experimented with casual sex, a nice fuck and a see you never! arrangement. He’d never given it much thought. Maybe he should.

Without another word, Eddie sprung up and chased after Richie, who was now rounding the corner by the toilet block.

“Rich!” Eddie called out, panting.

Richie turned around, and beamed at Eddie.

Eddie felt lighter.

“I’m sorry I’m a dick”

“You’re not a dick”

“I am, and I’m sorry. Do you … I dunno, do you wanna come see Def Leppard with us later, maybe? I mean – you don’t have to, I just meant if you have nothing better to –”

“I’d love to”

– X –

“POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME!” Eddie screamed along with Joe Elliott, thousands of other people, and Richie.

Bev had disappeared a few songs ago, pushing her way to the front barrier, but Eddie had hung back. He was stood directly in front of Richie, who had been whispering (or, more accurately, shouting) into his ear occasionally, and even in one delicious, ridiculous moment, picked Eddie up and stuck him on his shoulders. That didn’t last long because Eddie was terrified he’d fall off, but having his thighs wrapped around Richie’s neck was exhilarating for the four minutes it lasted.

“Eds, this might be the best day of my life,” Richie shouted, hot, moist breath tickling Eddie’s ear.

“I think me too!” Eddie shouted back, and the Richie did something that made Eddie’s brain shortcircuit.

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, crossing them over his stomach, and placed a large, wet-sounding kiss on the top of Eddie’s head.

Eddie didn’t dare blink, breathe, move or think.

“Thank you for inviting me” Richie whispered, and it was a real whisper this time, spoken directly into Eddie’s heart.

“it’s uh – no problem”

The band ripped into a cover of The Who’s ‘My Generation’, and much to Eddie’s annoyance, Richie released Eddie from his cobra-hold and tugged him forward, forward, forward until they ran into Bev at the barrier. Bev’s long orange hair was piled on top of her head, her face was sweaty and pink, and she looked absolutely radiant.

“This is our fucking song now!” Richie bellowed, hoisting Bev up on his shoulders like he had done to Eddie a few songs earlier.

Eddie grabbed Bev’s ankle and squeezed it. She smiled down at him, all teeth and tongue and happy, happy, happy.

– X –

The sun had fully set behind the massive stage, and Def Leppard had just finished their encore. The mass of people that had been surrounding Eddie, a coagulated mass of shadows and sharp elbows, parted like red sea as people slowly started to trickle out of the main arena and back towards the campsites. As they walked, shoulders bumping together occasionally, Eddie noticed several people staring at Richie, or pointing at him and whispering. Eddie glanced up at Richie to see if he’d noticed, only to find Richie looking down at him with soft eyes and a small, but genuine, smile.

“You okay, Eds?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fucking great, Rich. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as I did”

“Ah, that’s because I was there, obviously” Richie boasted.

Eddie could tell that he was joking, that he was just playing the game they’d been playing for the past twenty-four hours, but that didn’t stop Eddie from saying “yeah, it probably was”, as honest as the day is long.

Eddie’s honesty seemed to hit Richie in the stomach like a sucker punch, because he made this weird spluttering noise.

“Fucking hell, Sugar, you can’t just say stuff like that”

“Why?”

“Because – Never mind, I’m gonna walk you back to your tent, c’mon”

Eddie stopped walking, and tugged on Richie’s arm to get him to stop too. Richie swung around so he was facing Eddie, boot toe to boot toe.

“Richie, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Eddie”

“Do what?”

“I can’t just keep this up. I can’t keep fucking – fucking dancing with you, laughing with you, letting you smile at me like that, and then when you cuddled with me during the show I was like, ‘oh my God, this is it, he does feel the same’  but then … then you go all cold on me or you glare at me or …” Richie trailed off, his eyes flickered between Eddie’s eyes and mouth.

“Richie, I – ”

“Please don’t, please don’t pity me or say you’re sorry, or anything like that. God, I’ll drop down dead if you say you’re sorry, Eds. It isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I wasn’t joking about walking you back, though, c’mon, Bev will kill me if we’re back much later than – ”

Richie stopped talking because Eddie had kissed him.

Eddie curled his hand around Richie’s neck and dragged his face down, before he smashed his lips to Richie’s in a kiss that started off almost violent in its awkwardness but soon became soft and hesitant. Richie didn’t move at first, and Eddie almost pulled away, ready to sprint off to the campsite fuelled on nothing but mortal embarrassment, but just as Eddie had pulled his lips a millimetre away from Richie’s, Richie opened his mouth slightly, just barely, and kissed Eddie back.

They kissed, Richie’s hands cradling Eddie’s face, until someone came careening into Eddie’s back, sending him flying forwards into Richie’s chest, arms flailing wildly.

“Sorry, mate!”

“No problem, bro” Richie responded, voice low and gruff, and from his position squished up against Richie’s chest, Eddie laughed, poking at the soft flesh of Richie’s tummy with his index finger.

“Bro?” Eddie mocked.

“What?”

“You’re ridiculous”

“And yet, you kissed me”

“I did”

“So that makes you ridiculous as well”

“It does”

“Wanna do it again?”

“Yes”

This time, Richie kissed Eddie.

– X –

By the time they’d gotten back to the tent, Eddie wasn’t done with Richie. Not even close. They’d stopped a few times on the way back, mostly Richie cutting Eddie off with his tongue, or one time that Eddie got so frustrated with Richie doing that he shoved him up against a tree and kissed him until Richie couldn’t breathe. It still wasn’t enough. However, Eddie didn’t know how to ask for more, how to ask Richie to climb into his tent with him.

Bev wasn’t in the tent when Eddie poked his head in, but there was a note lying on the air mattress.

With my mom tonight, wanted to give you some space WINK WINK

Love you be safe I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you

Don’t show his this note

Or you can if you want

Richard I’ll kill you if you hurt him okay

Love you love you love you

Eddie loved Beverly so much he could scream.

“Uh… are you tired yet?” Eddie asked, trying to remain inconspicuous, but subtlety was never his strong point.

“Nope” Richie responded, popping the ‘P’.

“Do you wanna, come in? I can’t offer you coffee because … well, I don’t have any way of making any but I can offer you … lukewarm water?”

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Cut the shit”

Richie all but threw himself through the entrance of the tent, pouncing on Eddie with a loud ‘oof’. They both sprawled backwards, and Richie hovered over Eddie, his eyes dark.

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve been of anything for a very long time”

“Do you have … the necessarily equipment?”

“Are you talking about whether or not I have a dick? Because …” Eddie gestured to his crotch where, yes, it was very obvious that he was packing heat, thank you very much.

“No, you goof, I meant lube and stuff”

“Oh… yeah I do, hang on”

“You’re very … prepared”

“Jealous?”

“I would be if it wasn’t me in this tent with you right now”

“Well it is, so shut up and kiss me”

– X –

The next morning, Eddie had woken up with a crick in his neck. Richie had gone. What lay on the pillow where Richie’s head should have been, was Bev’s note. Or, rather, another note, scrawled on the back of Bev’s note.

Please get as close to the barrier as possible during Crimson Nightmare’s set

Please please please please

You fuckin’ rocked my world last night Eds

R x

– X –

Eddie looked behind him at the pulsing mass of people, blurring into one lacquered mass in the darkness of the night, random faces illuminated by the spotlights. Raucous chants surrounded him, a war cry, “CRIMSON NIGHTMARE! CRIMSON NIGHTMARE! CRIMSON NIGHTMARE!”. It was cultish, and Eddie could feel himself becoming indoctrinated.

Without warning, the huge fluttering black cloth that had been obscuring the stage was sucked through a gap in the ceiling, and revealed the stage. The entire set was decked out to look like an industrial hellscape, all juddering fans, sharp looking pieces of metal jutting every which way and large metal platforms. Several huge industrial fans were stood in the centre of the stage, acting as a podium for an obscenely large drumkit. Eddie hardly noticed the stage, though, as he was preoccupied with looking at the elaborate venetian masks the band were wearing. They obscured almost their entire faces, and looked like they were made of a buttery-soft leather with horns curling skywards. The bassist was stood on a large piece of scaffolding stage right, and the lead guitarist was standing on the floor surrounded by shards of metal poking out of the floor stage left. The screams and hollers of the crowd grew deafening, and the guitarist ripped straight into a blistering riff that sounded like it’d been spat from the mouth of the devil himself. A scream tore its way out of Eddie’s body, and he began jumping up and down with the crowd, coagulating until he had become One with the throbbing mass of people.

Like Richie’s note had said, Eddie was right at the barrier. His ribs were being crushed against the hard metal every time he leapt up and down, but he hardly noticed it once the vocalist walked out onto stage. The vocalist walked with a swagger that punched Eddie straight in the gut, and before they had even managed to spit out a single syllable, Eddie almost collapsed on the floor. He was held up by Bev, who shot him a questioning look. Eddie didn’t dare speak, move, breath, blink.

“Aw man, look at you see of sexy bitches come all this way to see little old me?” the vocalist brayed, stamping his feet in time with the rhythmic booming of the bass drum.

The crowd roared back in response. Eddie couldn’t breathe.

The vocalist was wearing the same mask as the rest of his bandmates, but that didn’t matter.

“All this noise for me? Too fuckin’ bad I’m gonna make your ears fucking bleeeeeed. This one’s called ‘You’ll Float Too’ and you’re gonna fucking love it” Richie yelled, before screaming like a banshee and launching into the first song.

It was Richie.

It was Richie’s voice.

It was Richie’s voice, Richie’s raspy growl, Richie’s beaten up old boots.

The frontman of the last headliner of Iron Horns was the guy that Eddie had ridden on his shitty little air mattress in his shitty little tent the night before.

Eddie tapped Bev on the shoulder, and soon the taps became almighty whacks when she wouldn’t turn around, but when she did, Eddie knew that she knew.

“IS THAT?!”

“IT IS!”

“FUCKING HELL”

“I KNOW”

Richie paraded up and down the stage, the big black coat he was wearing flapping in the breeze of the industrial fans. Eddie was mesmerised by the way Richie made screaming into the microphone with such tenacity look easy, and the way that Richie leapt around the stage effortlessly. The crowd were screaming, and a pit opened up directly behind Eddie, who clung to the barrier, knuckles bright white, to avoid getting sucked into its depths. Bev, as she always did, disappeared into the centre of the hurricane, and was spat out again several minutes later, eyes gleaming, hair tousled.

– X –

Half way through their last song, Richie locked eyes with Eddie.

Eddie hadn’t been sure that Richie had seen him there, a fleck of sand on the beach, faceless amongst the crowd. But, half way through ‘No Dread, No Desire’, Richie’s eyes locked with his. Of course, Eddie initially thought that Richie could have just so happened to have been staring in his general direction, but when Richie practically ran to the spot directly in front of where Eddie was standing, all doubts dissolved. Richie dropped to his knees and belted the rest of the song directly at Eddie, who needed Bev to hold him up once more.

– X –

Even after Richie had sung the last note of the encore, and bid the crowd farewell, Eddie couldn’t move. He was glued to the spot, practically growing roots. Bev stood next to him, saying nothing, just breathing, loud and heavy breaths curling into the black sky like smoke.

“So”

“So”

“Richie’s in a band”

“Richie’s in … a fucking good band”

“You slept with him”

“I did”

“You slept with a guy in a band”

“I did”

“Are you a groupie now?”

“Fuck off”

A figure appeared on stage, and shuffled towards them. A figure wearing sweatpants and boots with laces that weren’t real laces, but were instead blue, frayed string.  

The figure crouched in front of them.

“Did you like the set?”

“You’re fucking famous” Eddie blurted out, tongue thick and fat in his mouth.

“M’not, not really. The vocalist of Crimson Nightmare is kinda famous, but he’s … he’s not really me. M’just Richie”

“But … Aren’t you the vocalist?”

“Well, yes, I mean technically, but I wear that mask n’ all so… It’s also sort of, not me?”

“Richie I have no idea what to say, I’m like … I’m fucking shaking”

“Good shaking? Bad shaking? Did you hate it? That growl in the third song came out so fucking janky, and I know that I sounded kinda flat in a few of the songs but –“

“You were … spectacular” Eddie breathed, and stared up at Richie with wide, earnest eyes.

“Aw, shit. You’re gonna make me blush, Eddie Spaghetti”

Richie hopped down off the stage, crowding into Eddie’s space. They were separated by a thin metal fence. It was too much distance.

“Beverly, if you don’t want to watch me shove my tongue down Eddie’s throat, I suggest that you avert your eyes, otherwise, enjoy the fuckin’ show”

Bev’s indignant squawk was drowned out by the all-consuming taste on Eddie’s tongue.

– X –

From: Sugar Daddy:

[youtube link]

From: Sugar Daddy:

Last night in Denver. I think you’ll like it <3

Eddie opened the link. It was a video of Crimson Nightmare headlining a spot at Denver arena. The camera was shaky, and the audio screechy, but it was clear enough so Eddie could hear everything Richie was saying.

“Alright, alright, now, I know this is gonna come as a fuckin’ surprise to some of you, or maybe it won’t, but I dedicate this next song to the boy who inspired it. Eddie Spaghetti, this one’s for you, my love, my one, my only”

Screeching guitar and guttural screams filtered out of the shitty speakers of Eddie’s phone. Eddie lay back on his bed, closed his eyes, and drifted.

To: Sugar Daddy:

I love you