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letsbangts · 2 months ago

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paint me, play me: moonlight || jjk

⤷ summary: you are the day; he is the night. you are the sun; he is the moon. not meant to collide—one must set for the other to rise. but what happens during that rare moment when an eclipse occurs? can you both coexist peacefully together?

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 46k+

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: e2l, college au, fluff, angst

⟶ content: grumpy!jk (+ rocker!jk, fuckboy!jk) x sunshine!reader (+ cheerleader!reader, artisit!reader, bimbo!reader), rockband!bangtan

⟶ warnings: explicit language, mean comments, jk being a jerk, jess is a b*tch, bullying?, insults, bickering, insecurities, self-doubt, past trauma, ptsd?, mentions of death, mentions of car accident, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, flirting, teasing, (idt there's anything else, but if there is pls lmk!!)

⟶ part: 1/4

↬ a/n: this took forever but I hope the wc justifies why lol but I’m so excited to finally have pt. 1 of pmpm out. the response I got from my initial post about this series was way more than I expected so I hope you all enjoy. and to my little freaks there’s no smut in this chapter but just you wait my loveys ;) happy reading! angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: AND LET IT BE KNOWN I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UNIVERSITY, ROCK, ART, OR CHEERLEADING. I have no knowledge about anything I’m writing about sooo readers discretion is advised. *also this is edited to the best of my ability but she is a beast so feel free to let me know of any mistakes*

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ moonlight ariana grande 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

series masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ main masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

i never knew, i never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands 'til the night i held you you are my moonlight, moonlight

New beginnings and change are hard for people, but you have grown accustomed to them. You have come to embrace them. There aren’t many things that could bring you down, and a new town and school aren’t among them. This move might be good for you; a shift in your surroundings may be what you need.

At first, you felt a bit nervous when your mom accepted a new job out here, but once you saw the new house, it sold you on the move. Then, when you looked up the university located here and discovered it is known for its Visual Arts major, all your worries faded. So, when you applied for a transfer from your previous university to Borahae and not only got accepted but also received a scholarship for all your achievements, you felt as if everything was falling into place. You felt as if it was all destined to be.

You walked around to familiarize yourself with the area; it was a pleasant town. It has a small-town vibe but is still a bustling city, and the people are very nice. When the adorable elderly lady who works at the convenience store you stopped by heard you were new to the town, she gave you your lollipop for free. You would never pass up free sweets, even though you were ready to pay.

With a skip in your step and a treat in your mouth that tastes even sweeter because free food is always more delicious, you head home with a newfound high – not from the sugar, but from the feeling that things are looking up.

You practically bounce up the stairs and through the front door, where you find your mom doing some of the last bits of the unpacking. It was overwhelming when the two of you first moved in, but you expected to be stressed out when relocating your entire life from one place to another. But as always, you both had each other to lean on.

You could not ask for a better mom, even without a biased opinion, because she is the woman who gave you life; she is the strongest and kindest woman you know. She has always been in your corner, cheering you on, and had your back when things got shaky. As you have gotten older, she has also started to come to you for support, and you have always been there to give it to her. The past year and a half have been tough on both of you after your dad’s passing, but you noticed she seemed to carry the weight of everything much heavier on her shoulders.

You have seen how this move has brought back that spark in her. Everything about your old home was like a constant reminder of his absence, making it difficult to move on from grieving. Although you both will never forget him or all the memories shared with him, a new space for building a new chapter in both of your lives has boosted her drive for life.

Your mom looks up from the box she was unpacking when she hears you come through the door, and a smile forms on her face as you walk into the living room.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re back already! How was everything?”

“It was nice! Everything is so pretty and old-timey, and the shop lady gave me a free lolly!” You wave the dwindling candy in the air to show her.

She laughs lightly and continues unpacking, placing books on the half-full bookshelf.

“Well, that was nice of her. I will have to stop by myself and greet her. The town seems full of kind people; you just missed one of our neighbours. This sweet young man helped me bring in this box,” she gestures to the heavy box of books. “He mentioned how he and a few other boys live together next door. They’re actually around your age and even attend Borahae as well.”

“Oh, what a coinkydink!” you giggle.

“I know, right? And get this: he said they all play in a rock band! Talk about coincidence! They rehearse in their garage, so he wanted to be sure the noise wouldn’t bother us, but I told him not to worry.”

You nod with wide eyes and your mouth in the shape of an ‘O’.

“I wish I was here to say hi to him.”

Your mom waves her hand, “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. You’ll meet him soon. I mentioned that I have a daughter his age and that you will be attending the same university as him. I’m sure you’ll meet all of them eventually.”

You nod again, with your lollipop perched between your pursed lips.

“Well, I guess I’ll finish the last few boxes in my room.”

You walk over and kiss your mom on the cheek.

She smiles and continues with her box. As you walk up the steps, she calls out,

“Keep an eye out for him; he was a nice boy. His name is Namjoon!”

☾☀︎

You walk down the sidewalk as fast as possible in your wedge heels. Being late on your first day isn’t ideal, but you had to be sure you looked cute. As you hurry towards the enormous building, your pink mini-dress flows in the light breeze. As you step onto the school grounds, you hear the roar of an engine. When you turn your head towards the sound, you see a motorcycle zoom past you at top speed.

“Ooh, shiny,” you gasp, coming to a halt as you stare at it, mesmerized until it banks the corner and disappears. You shake your head, pulling yourself from your trance and refocus, resuming the trek to the main entrance.

The large building makes you nervous; butterflies form in your stomach as you get closer. You see two guys at the bottom of the stairs leading to the main doors. The guy standing with the broadest shoulders is talking to the other guy sitting on the large stone bannister. The shoulder guy is laughing at something he said, but the other guy sits there with a neutral look as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

You approach them with a big smile, their conversation pausing as they both turn to you. The shoulder guy raises his eyebrows in question while the other looks you up and down before turning back and continuing to smoke.

“Hi! Do you know where the office is?”

The shoulder guy smiles and nods his head.

“Uh, yeah. When you enter the building, turn right, and you’ll see a big ass wooden door, that’s it.” He says, gesturing up the stairs to the building as he talks.

“Big ass wooden door,” you mumble to yourself, nodding. “Got it, thanks, Shoulders!”

You turn and walk away, following his directions before he can reply, causing you to miss his reaction to your name for him and the grin that spreads across the other guy’s face as he chuckles.

“Did she—Did she just call me Shoulders?”

“Well, that is like 75% of you.”

You also miss the guy holding a motorcycle helmet who walks up and joins the other two.

☾☀︎

In the office, you are filling out some forms, making sure all your ‘i’s are dotted with a heart, when you see a middle-aged woman walk out of the back office with a red-haired girl, immediately catching your attention.

She looks the complete opposite of you in her black denim dress, black fishnet tights, thick-winged black eyeliner, and a hoop nose ring.

The secretary assisting you interrupts the two’s conversation, notifying her of your arrival.

“Mrs Baek, this is Y/N L/N.”

Once the woman sees you, she grins and extends her hand for you to shake.

“Ah, Y/N! It is lovely to meet you. I’m Mrs Baek, the dean here. We are so honoured to have someone of your merit attend Borahae. I was very impressed by your work. You are such a gifted artist with a great eye for fine detail. I am sure you will make our school proud.”

You don’t notice how the red-haired girl’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Mrs Baek! I am so excited to be here!” you bounce in place while giving her hand a little squeeze.

Mrs Baek chuckles, giving your hand in hers a pat with her free hand.

“If you have any questions, my door is always open, dear.”

You nod eagerly, and with that, she turns to leave. She gives the red-haired girl a tiny nod, which she returns with a smile.

You and the girl are now left standing at the counter alone. She steps closer to you, her hand gliding across the wooden surface.

“So you’re new here, huh?”

“Yup! My mom and I just moved here—not to the school, to the town; we don’t live here.”

“I hope not; we’re here enough as it is,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Y/N, right? I’m Chaerin.”

“Nice to meet you! I love your hair, it’s so pretty, it reminds me of a–”

“A cherry?”

“Yes!” you gasp.

“My nickname is Cherry; all my friends call me that. You can, too.”

“Oh, yay! Are we friends?”

Cherry nods with a smile.

“Wow, I haven’t even gone to a class yet, and I’ve already made a friend. This place is great!”

“I heard Mrs Baek say you’re an artist. I’m guessing you’re an art major?”

“Yeah, Visual Arts. Are you studying art, too?”

“Oh no,” Cherry shakes her head fervently, “I can’t even draw stick figures properly. I’m a music major, Music Technology.”

Your mouth hangs agape because your new friend keeps getting cooler and cooler.

“What kind of art do you do?” Cherry asks.

“The one with pictures...” you furrow your brows.

“No, no,” she laughs at your confusion, finding it adorable, “Like, what do you specialize in? Drawing, painting, sculpting?”

“Oh! I’m good at everything, but painting is my favourite!” you beam.

“So you draw too?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Oh my gosh, this is perfect,” Cherry mutters, thinking aloud.

Before you can ask what she means, she grabs both of your hands, bringing them up to her chin with pleading eyes. You look at her in surprise.

“I know we just met, and I’m not usually this forward... that’s a lie, I am, but I don’t want to seem rude. But what are the chances that I would run into the new artist getting the dean’s praise? It’s like fate crossed our paths,” she rushes out her words in one breath, “So as your new friend, I need a favour from you. You see, my boyfriend is in this rock band with his friends, and they have been looking for someone to design a logo for them.”

“A rock band?” your look of surprise only grows.

First, you move in next door to a rock band, and now your new friend is dating someone in a rock band. What crazy odds.

“Yeah, Army of Bombs is what they go by. I help them with their songs sometimes. I know I’m a little biased, but they are amazing!”

“And you want me to design a logo for them?” you say slowly, taking her request in.

She nods desperately, squeezing your hands tighter. “Please, pretty please, with a cherry on top. No pun intended.”

You giggle at her remark and even more at her puppy dog eyes and pout.

“I would love to help you, but—”

Cherry, thinking you’re about to say no, interrupts.

“Look, I know rock music is probably not your thing,” she gestures up and down at you, “But I mean, you don’t have to like it,” she says, trying to reason.

You chuckle at the irony.

“No, that’s not it. I just—I don’t know the band well enough to design a logo for them,” you shrug with a small smile, not wanting to disappoint her.

“You can come and sit in on their rehearsals! You can get a feel of the band’s vibe. The guys won’t mind. They’re cool; you’ll like them.”

She stares at you nervously as you tilt your head in thought, considering her offer.

“Hmm, okay! I’ll do it!” you exclaim.

“Oh my gosh, seriously! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pulls you into a tight hug, swaying side to side. “You’re the best, Y/N! If you ever need anything, say the word, I’m your girl.”

You hug her back just as tightly.

“I can’t help this week though. I have a lot going on since it’s my first week here,” you tell her as you pull apart.

“That’s cool, I get it. Whenever you’re free, let me know. You can text me. I’m usually always at the rehearsals anyway. They rehearse at their house. Oh yeah, here, let’s exchange numbers.”

She pulls out her phone, encased in a piano phone case and hands it to you to put in your number. You pull out your pink rhinestone-covered phone and give it to her to do the same.

She enters her number and flips your phone in her hand. She looks at the sparkly case before glancing at you and chuckling as she hands the device back.

You look at her with wide, curious eyes.

“You really are like a little Barbie, huh?”

You light up at her comment, “Thanks!”

“They will be so pumped; I can’t wait to tell the guys about this! My boyfriend is waiting for me outside. He’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”

“I’m excited to meet everyone,” you smile.

“Barbs, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” she smiles back.

You think the same thing.

☾☀︎

You are nearing the end of your first week; it has been great so far. You like all your classes, and your professors have been very welcoming; they have all heard of you and your scholarship. You’ve made connections with a few classmates and gained more friends, but Cherry still sits at the top of the list.

You and she have been texting all week, and it’s not just about the band logo; she has been making sure you are doing okay with adjusting to everything. However, she did mention that she told her friends that you agreed to design their band’s logo and that they were excited.

Speaking of bands, you have yet to meet any of your neighbours that your mom told you about. You would think no one even lives there if it weren’t for the music you hear coming from the garage almost every night. That Namjoon guy must be nice if he warned your mom about the noise because it is loud. But they are talented; you’ve caught yourself bobbing your head to the music numerous times. You’ll tell them you’re a fan when you finally meet them.

You are headed to the gym to try out for the cheerleading team. Art is a relatively sedentary and solitary activity, so you enjoy cheerleading because it gets you moving and allows you to socialize with others. Also, the uniform is super cute, and you love cheering people on.

You push open the gym door and walk over to the girls gathered on the bench, waiting for the tryouts to begin. You sit down next to a strawberry-blonde girl who is texting away on her phone. You notice a pink gummy bear charm dangling from her cell.

“I like your charm; it’s so adorable!”

She looks up upon hearing your compliment, and her eyes dart from you to her phone and back to you before she smiles.

“Thanks, I like your set,” she gestures to your hot pink sports bra and matching pants, “I see we both have great taste in colours.”

“I love pink and candy, so this is like they had a baby,” you say, taking the charm between your fingers and examining it more closely.

“You’re funny. I’m Rina, by the way,” she lifts her hand in a small wave as she introduces herself.

“I’m Y/N,” you wave back gleefully.

The doors open before you two can talk anymore, and the room fills with the echo of laughter. Three girls walk in, wearing purple and white cheerleading uniforms, and stand in front of the waiting students. The tallest girl among the three stands between the others and plasters a wide, fake smile on her face before she speaks.

“Hello, everyone. Welcome to the cheer tryouts for the Borahae Belles. I’m Jess, the cheer captain. And this is Mei,” she points to the girl on her right, “And this is Kat,” she points to the girl on her left.

“This is our second year cheering for the school; we had a stellar year last year, winning nationals,” Jess flips her ponytail over her shoulder, placing a hand over her chest, “And like I did last year, I plan on leading us to victory this year, so I hope you brought your ‘A’ game.”

Everyone’s faces fill with fear, but you aren’t worried. You are excited to be cheering again; you missed it.

“We would usually have tryouts out on the field, but the football team has practice today, so we had to settle for in here. As you can see, we only have a few roll-out mats, so try not to get injured because we really can’t deal with that right now,” Jess rolls her eyes, and the other two girls snicker.

“Okay, enough talk. Let’s get started!” Jess claps twice, and Mei hands her a clipboard with the signup sheet.

One by one, people start going to the centre of the room and performing their routines. The three cheerleaders give little to no response, simply calling out the next name after each performance.

“I’m so nervous, are you?” Rina whispers to you.

“No, not at all,” you shake your head.

“You must be confident.”

You are. You were cheer captain throughout high school and even at your old university. You don’t have a big head, but you know you’re good, so you’re confident you’ll make the team.

“I am; you should be, too. I bet you’ll do great,” you say, squeezing Rina’s shoulder in encouragement.

Just then, Rina’s name gets called out. She gives you a weak smile, gets up and makes her way to the mat. She performs her routine flawlessly, finishing with a back handspring, jumping into a herkie, and landing in a torch position.

“Yay, Rina,” you applaud enthusiastically for her, thinking she had no reason to be nervous.

You don’t see the dirty look Jess gives you.

Rina mouths a silent “thank you” and “good luck” and gives you a thumbs-up before she leaves the gym.

Four more people’s names get called out before you finally hear yours; you spring up and skip over to the mat.

“Hi, I’m Y/N L/N! I’m very excited to cheer for you.”

“Yeah, we know your name’s on the signup sheet,” Kat says as she and Mei snicker.

Jess tilts her head, eyes scanning you, “Why don’t you start your routine?” she smirks.

While you perform your routine, Jess sits up straighter than she has since tryouts began. Both Mei and Kat’s eyes are wide in shock. You’re good–excellent. You’re better than they thought you’d be, better than the others who have tried out. The two girls don’t say anything for fear of upsetting the captain, but you’re even better than Jess.

Mei and Kat glance warily at Jess, her eyes are narrow, and her lips are pursed from her sucking her teeth.

You finish with a toe touch and land in a liberty pose. Once you face the three girls with an anticipatory expression, Jess immediately breaks into a smile, which you return, unaware of her disapproving look throughout your routine you were too absorbed into to notice.

“You’re good. Y/N, was it?” Jess asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

She hums, glancing down briefly before continuing, “I shouldn’t say anything before the official list goes up, but I think you can consider yourself a Borahae Belle.”

You hop up and down in place, hands balled up, nearly bursting with joy.

You’re clueless about how the other two cheerleaders whip their heads towards the captain in surprise, taken aback by her complimentary words and acceptance of you.

You thank the three girls before practically bouncing out of the room.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Jess’s smile disappears.

☾☀︎

Cherry is sitting on the sofa in the guys’ garage as they get ready to rehearse, tune their instruments, and set up the equipment. Seokjin, who is rolling out the amplifier and plugging it in, calls her name.

“Hey Cher, when are we going to get to meet this art girl? I’m dying to discuss logo ideas with her.”

Hoseok, who was tuning his guitar, chimes in at the mention, “Yeah, it’s about time we finally got one. Every iconic band has a logo; branding Army of Bombs if we want to make our mark is a must.”

“She’s super busy this week; I told you she just moved here. Once she settles in, she will start working on the design. She’s going to sit in on rehearsals to help her get ideas,” Cherry replies.

“If she is as good of an artist as you said, shouldn’t she be able to draw something up at the snap of her fingers?” Jimin comments.

“The logo has to fit the band, and she knows nothing about you guys or your music. Also, rock and roll music doesn’t seem like her style, so she has to get familiar with it.”

“Did you get to see any of her work? You know, to see how good she is?” Namjoon asks.

“No, I never got a chance to,” Cherry shrugs.

The band exchanges pessimistic looks with one another.

“So let me get this straight, you asked a girl who doesn’t like rock and who might be a shit artist to design our logo? Well, that sounds promising.” Taehyung smirks, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“She is talented; I heard the dean praise her myself.”

“The dean would kiss anyone’s ass. You know how much people pay to go there,” Taehyung rebuts.

“She said she was honoured to have her attend the school. I don’t remember ever hearing that she complimented any of you.”

“She once told me I was, and I quote, “unbelievable” actually,” Jimin says.

“She wasn’t saying that as a compliment, you idiot. She said it in disdain,” Seokjin clarifies.

“Semantics,” Jimin waves off. “The point is that Cherry has probably roped us in with some new girl and opened our rehearsals to her without checking her credibility.”

“What are you blaming my girlfriend for?” Yoongi inquires as he walks in with Jungkook a few steps behind him. He sits on the sofa beside Cherry and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

“We just found out that she doesn’t know if the girl she got to do the logo has any real talent,” Hoseok updates while pointing at Cherry.

Yoongi turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed, “I thought you said she was good?”

“She is!” Cherry exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. All the guys jump in shock at her outburst.

“I can’t believe you guys are giving me such a hard time. You were eager to find someone, and now that I have found someone willing to do it, you are complaining.”

“We aren’t complaining, Cher; we are sceptical. She might be willing, but that doesn’t mean her work will meet our standards,” Taehyung states.

“Didn’t you see any of her drawings or something?” Jungkook asks while grabbing his guitar and putting the strap over his head. When he looks up, he sees the rest of the band staring at Cherry, whose eyes are rolling in exasperation.

Jungkook smirks and snickers, “You didn’t. Way to put in the work, Cherry.”

“Okay now, step off. We gotta give this girl a chance at least; I’m sure Cher is vouching for her for a reason.” Yoongi comes to his girlfriend’s defence, calming everyone down. He kisses her on the temple before making his way to his keyboard.

“Yeah, who knows? She might be like a little Picasso,” Namjoon says, intervening to lighten the mood. He pats Cherry’s shoulder as he walks by her and sits behind the drum set.

The guys take their positions, and Cherry leans back onto the sofa with a huff.

“I’m telling you, she’s good and doing us a big favour by agreeing to help us. Once you guys meet her, you’ll be eating your words.”

Namjoon does the count-off, his drumsticks hitting together with each number, “One, two, three, four.”

☾☀︎

Rehearsal ended a little while ago, and the band was scattered around different spots in the garage resting.

“Kook, what happened to that chick you were seeing? I haven’t seen you with her since Junho’s party,” Hoseok asks from his seat in the beanbag chair in the corner.

Jungkook, sitting on top of an amp, looks up from his phone, tilting his head in thought.

“Which girl?” Jungkook questions in return.

“Wow, seriously, man? You’re an animal,” Jimin laughs, shaking his head.

“The one who always showed up at the venue an hour before our shows and sat on stage the entire rehearsal,” Hoseok describes the girl.

“Oh her, I got rid of her a while ago.”

“Why? What was wrong with that one now?” Seokjin asks from the sofa, accustomed to the youngest one’s pattern.

“I just ended it,” Jungkook shrugs.

The older guys shake their heads, some chuckling at Jungkook’s nonchalance.

“Ugh, you are such a stereotypical rocker,” Cherry scoffs.

“Don’t hate the player, babe, hate the game,” Jungkook smirks, sending her a wink.

“Getting with girls shouldn’t be a game, Kook.”

“Hey, it’s all good fun, and we’re all consenting adults. It’s not like I hunt for these girls; they come to me.”

“More like they cum for you,” Taehyung jokes and daps Jungkook.

“Disgusting,” Cherry turns to Yoongi sitting beside her, “I sometimes question your choice of friends.”

“How come in moments like this, they’re not your friends, too?” Yoongi laughs.

“Speaking of girls, Joon, didn’t you say the lady who moved in next door has a daughter our age?” Jimin diverts, sitting on the armrest of the recliner Namjoon is sitting on.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, she said she goes to Borahae too, but I haven’t run into her yet.”

“She must be one of those students who live their lives studying–home to school to the library and back,” Jimin says, waving his hand, tilting his beer bottle back and forth.

“Wait a minute, did you say a girl our age? Why am I only hearing about this now? I would have gone over to introduce myself, like a good neighbour should,” Taehyung perks up on the stool he’s perched on.

“That is what we don’t want,” Seokjin points to the three youngest, “You three are prohibited from going next door.”

“Hold up! Why are we being singled out?” Jimin exclaims.

“Because you guys wreak havoc wherever you go, and her mom is nice and was cool about us rehearsing out here. We don’t need you ruining that by messing around with her daughter,” Seokjin explains.

“Excuse me, I am a perfect gentleman. These two are the ones you need to worry about,” Jimin says, pointing two fingers at Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me; I don’t shit where I eat,” Jungkook raises both hands in surrender.

“And I resent being classed the same as Kook; I am nowhere near as big of a hoe as he is,” Taehyung defends himself.

“We’re not taking chances; don’t go anywhere near the kid, all three of you,” Yoongi declares.

“Yeah, the poor girl just moved here. Don’t corrupt her with your sleaziness; give her a break,” Cherry smirks.

“I can keep my hands to myself, but if she approaches me and she’s cute, I make no promises where my hands will be on campus,” Taehyung shrugs before sipping his beer.

The conversation shifts after that, and various topics are discussed, from upcoming shows to party invites they have received. The current topic is their female escapades despite prior denials.

Seokjin is in the middle of a story when he gets interrupted by a low whistle from Taehyung.

“Hottie headed this way,” he announces, his eyes focused on the street where a girl is walking down the sidewalk.

All heads, excluding Yoongi’s and Cherry’s, turn to follow his line of sight.

“Those are our school colours,” Namjoon notes.

“Damn, since when did cheerleaders roam this street,” Hoseok says.

That causes Cherry to glance in reluctance briefly before doing a double take. She suddenly stands up from Yoongi’s side, “Y/N?”

The guys all redirect their eyes to her in question.

“Y/N? Didn’t you say the art girl was named Y/N?” Yoongi asks.

She stands up, walks out of the garage, and yells, “Hey, Y/N!”

☾☀︎

As you expected, you made the cheerleading team, but you were still excited when you saw your name on the list of those who made it onto the team. Rina also made the team, so you were extra happy.

You changed into your new uniform right after you picked it up and made your routine stop by the convenience store on your way home. You told Mrs Lee, the adorable elderly lady who works there, that you made the team and twirled around to show off your new outfit. She was just as excited as you were and told you how pretty you looked. When you went to pay for your lollipop, she refused to let you pay, saying it was a reward for the special occasion.

So now you are walking home in your cute uniform and with a celebratory lollipop in your favourite flavour: bubble gum.

You think you’ve reached peak happiness at this moment. You can’t wait to get home to tell your mom the news and have her happiness added to it all. You turn the corner to your street and walk down the sidewalk to your house. As you get closer, you notice your neighbour’s garage open, this being your first time seeing any sign of life from the residence.

You pick up your pace, wondering if this is when you’ll finally meet the elusive rock band from next door that you’ve been hearing through the walls all week.

As soon as the garage comes into full view, you hear your name called.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You look up your neighbour’s driveway to see Cherry waving at you. With a big smile, you run up to her and hug her, making sure not to get the sticky candy caught in her hair. The thought of finally meeting the rocker’s neighbours gets instantly forgotten.

“Cherry!”

“What are you doing here?” she laughs as you pull away from the hug.

“I’m on my way home,” you point towards the direction of your house.

“You live close by?”

“Yup!” you giggle.

“And what’s this,” Cherry gestures to your uniform, “You didn’t tell me you were trying out for the cheer team.”

“I guess I forgot to mention it,” you knit your brows and pout briefly before lighting back up, “But isn’t it great! Don’t I look so cute?” You give her a twirl with your arms stretched out at your sides.

The guys watch in amusement while Jungkook slides off the amp, rolling his eyes as he heads over to the mini fridge in the back.

“You look cuter than anything my eyes have ever seen,” Taehyung interjects from his seat.

You glance over Cherry’s shoulder and smile at the boy. She lets out a huff and grabs your hand.

“I guess this is a time as good as any to introduce you to the band,” she tugs you into the garage with her.

“How do you know them?” you ask as you walk behind her.

Cherry turns and looks at you with a confused yet amused expression, letting go of your hand, “Huh? What do you mean? Remember when I asked you for help? I said my boyfriend was in a band with some friends.”

You nod slowly, still not caught up.

She smiles at you and flails her hand at the guys dispersed around the garage, “This is the band. Y/N, meet Army of Bombs.”

Your mouth hangs agape at the news. Your rocker neighbours are the same band Cherry asked you to design for. Wow, another coinkydink!

She pulls Yoongi from the sofa by his arm, “This is my boyfriend, Yoongi. He is the keyboardist of the band.”

He gives you a nod in greeting before a look of realization crosses his face.

“Wait, haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, pointing to you but turning to Seokjin.

You follow his gaze and gasp, “Shoulders!”

“I usually go by Seokjin, but I’ll take the nickname as a compliment,” Seokjin says with a laugh as he gets up to shake your hand.

You laugh as you shake hands while Cherry’s eyes dart between the three of you, puzzled.

“You met her already?” she asks the boys.

“She asked us, well, me, Yoongi — as usual, gave no help, for directions to the office,” Seokjin tells her.

“That was the day I met you,” you add, lifting your lollipop back to your mouth.

“Wow, that’s so crazy. Fate seriously crossed our paths!” Cherry exclaims.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you formally, Y/N. I’m the band’s manager,” Seokjin explains.

“Or, as we like to call him, our roadie,” a voice adds, stepping forward to join the introductions.

“I’m Taehyung, the visual relief of the band, but my official role is bassist,” the boy says, bared with a suave smile. He takes your hand and is about to bring it to his lips when Cherry rips his hold of you and pushes past him.

“He is also the official buffoon; ignore him,” Cherry glances back, glaring at Taehyung, who sticks his tongue out playfully at her before smirking.

“This is Hoseok. He’s the rhythm guitarist. Jimin, he’s the lead singer.” The boys give you a friendly wave and a smile, greeting you.

“Namjoon’s the drummer,” the boy flashes you a dimpled smile.

The name catches your attention, and your perplexed expression has Namjoon and Cherry looking at you bewildered.

“What’s wrong?” Cherry asks.

“Namjoon,” you mutter, tapping your lollipop against your lips in thought.

Namjoon sends Cherry a worried look, and she shrugs.

“Ah!” you exclaim, and they both raise their brows at your sudden outburst.

“You’re the sweet young man,” you smile and point your candy at him.

He gives you an amused chuckle, tilting his head slightly, “Am I?”

You nod, “Yeah, my mom said you were a nice boy.”

“Okay, Joon, going after MILFs now,” Jimin hollers but receives a quick nudge in the ribs from Yoongi and a dirty look from Namjoon.

“Your mom met Namjoon? Where?” Cherry questions.

“Outside,” you point out of the garage, answering Cherry.

The boys let out a small chuckle; Cherry ignores them and gives you a stare, urging you to explain further.

“He helped my mom bring in a heavy box.”

When everyone comes to the same realization, their faces turn to shock. You glance around and giggle at their expressions.

Cherry grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face her body.

“Y/N, you moved in next door? Like into the house beside this one?” Cherry simplifies, trying to get a clear answer.

“Mhm,” you nod up at her, sucking on your lollipop.

“So you’re the daughter she mentioned,” Namjoon sends you a gentle smile.

“Well, now we know she for sure isn’t one of those students who live their life studying,” Jimin whispers to Hoseok, causing both of them to stifle a laugh.

A clink is heard from the back of the garage, catching your attention. You gaze in that direction, catching a glimpse of a broad back closing the mini-fridge door. As the person turns around, you encounter the most beautiful human you have ever seen.

His dark hair is black like the night sky, his skin is golden like a radiant star, and his eyes are big and intense like a black hole. He is like a galaxy walking on two legs, his gravitational pull too strong to escape; you feel the need to move towards it.

“Oh, right. Y/N, this is Jungkook; he’s the lead guitarist,” Cherry says, though her voice is almost like white noise to you, yet you still hear her.

“Jungkook,” you repeat.

For a brief moment, Jungkook, wearing a blank expression, his eyes unreadable, holds your gaze before breaking it, opening his beer, and walking over to sit on the stool in the corner. But you can’t ignore how your heartbeat quickens, the tingling sensation, how you somehow feel warmer.

“We never got to thank you for agreeing to design our logo,” Namjoon says, pulling you out of your trance and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“O-oh,” you blink, collecting yourself, “It’s no biggie!” you smile brightly.

“You’re doing us a solid; we’ve been searching for someone for months to do it,” Hoseok says.

“I’m so excited to do it and to sit in on your rehearsals. I’ve wanted to meet my neighbours. I can hear when you guys play through the walls, and I’m already a fan. You guys are super duper,” you say, giving them a thumbs-up.

Jungkook scoffs to himself quietly while the rest of the band smiles at you in gratitude.

“We’re excited to see what you come up with. Do you have any drawings so we can see your style?” Jimin asks.

“I don’t have my sketchbook with me; it’s at home,” you shake your head.

The boys give Cherry a doubtful look, which she ignores.

“Oh yeah! I have to go; I told my mom I would be back in time for dinner,” you say.

“Of course. We’ll see your stuff when you come to rehearsal. You’re still coming tomorrow, right?” Cherry asks as she walks you out.

You nod eagerly, “Yup, I’ll be here!”

She smiles, and you hug each other goodbye.

Before you take the few steps to your house, you turn and wave to the band.

“Bye-bye, see you tomorrow! It was nice seeing you again, Shoulders and Shoulders’ friend! And it was nice meeting the rest of you,” you call out, saying the last part while looking at the beautiful boy on the stool.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your words, occupied with his phone. The band bids you farewell, and you head to your house.

As you walk up the steps to your home, you smile with a blush, “Jungkook,” you muse, “What a pretty, pretty boy.”

☾☀︎

After your departure, Cherry turns to the boys with a raised brow.

“She’s nice,” Seokjin nods in approval with a smile.

“I can’t believe the person who asked for directions, the one Cher got to help us, and our new neighbour are all the same girl. What are the chances of all that?” Yoongi raises a finger with each point.

“I can’t believe you failed to mention how hot she was,” Taehyung says in disbelief to Cherry.

“Maybe because that has no relevance to anything,” Cherry deadpans.

“To you, but a hot cheerleader who is a talented artist and lives next door is like the female trifecta,” Jimin says.

“Oh, so now that you guys see she’s cute, you’re suddenly backtracking and agreeing with me that she’s got talent,” Cherry notes.

“I’m more hopeful about it,” Taehyung shamelessly declares with a nod, receiving an unimpressed look from Cherry in return.

“You guys can’t be serious,” Jungkook pipes up.

“What?” Cherry asks.

“You couldn’t find someone whose head isn’t in the fucking clouds.”

“Come on, don’t be so judgemental, Jungkook,” Cherry scolds.

“I have to admit, Cher, I’m still wary that she’s got any real art skills; she does seem a bit... ditzy,” Hoseok says gently, trying not to offend.

“She’s an airhead. I’d be surprised if she can even spell art,” Jungkook comments, his tone harsh.

“All of you should be the last to judge someone so quickly. Do you think when people hear you say you’re in a rock band, they don’t immediately assume you’re a bunch of wannabe rockstar losers before hearing how talented you are?” Cherry rebukes.

“You’re talking as if you’ve seen how “talented” she is,” Jungkook counters, his fingers making air quotes around the word.

“You know just as much about her supposed talent as we do. You’re just being defensive because she’s your new little friend,” Jungkook continues.

“And you’re being rude because she isn’t all doom and gloom like you,” Cherry argues.

“More like I’m calling it as I see it; she’s living in a world of her own,” he ripostes.

“And what does that have to do with her capabilities?”

Namjoon steps in to de-escalate the conversation: “She has a point: We can’t evaluate her abilities based on her personality. I say we wait to see what she shows us before jumping to conclusions,” he says, throwing Jungkook a look of reassurance; he adds, “We may be pleasantly surprised.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mumbles, backing off. But he remains very doubtful that you can bring anything of substance, not believing that there is anything under your surface of lip gloss, bows, and lollipops that will surprise him.

☾☀︎

The next day couldn’t come fast enough for you; it was a bit after lunchtime when Cherry texted you that she had arrived at the garage and that the band was setting up for rehearsal.

As you skip next door with your sketchbook held to your chest, it feels like you are floating on a cloud. You thought about the pretty boy with the pretty big eyes all night, and you couldn’t wait to lay your eyes on him once again.

The garage door is wide open. You turn to enter and nearly bump into the very man you’ve been eager to see. You look him up and down shamelessly; he is wearing baggy jeans, black chunky combat boots and a white shirt with a black bomber jacket. With a chance to look closer at him, you notice his plump pink lips adorned with two piercings, his right eyebrow pierced, his ears decorated with several earrings, and a small scar on his left cheek.

“Oh, um, hi!” you smile at Jungkook with a tiny wave.

Jungkook gives you a once-over, his face emotionless, and walks away without a greeting.

You pout slightly, glancing down at your pink frilly crop top and white jean skirt, but don’t stay hung up on it for too long as Cherry notices your arrival.

“Barbs, you’re here. Come in,” Cherry waves you over.

She gives you a quick hug, and the rest of the band greets you warmly with head nods and waves.

“Hey, Shortstack,” Taehyung says with a gentle pat on your head.

You giggle at the nickname the tall boy has given you. Cherry sees the book cradled in your arms and smiles at you, excited for the guys to finally see how talented you are and, quite frankly, to see herself.

“Is that your sketchbook? Can we take a look?” she asks.

“Mhm,” you nod and hand her the baby pink sketchbook, a picture of two swans with their beaks touching on the cover.

The guys abandon their instruments as they overhear and huddle around the red-haired girl. You sit on the worn-out black leather sofa, glancing around the grungy place decorated with posters of different rock bands and filled with musical equipment. Your eyes land on Jungkook tuning his guitar in the back, not concerned with seeing your sketches like the rest of the band.

You watch as Cherry opens the sketchbook, and her eyes light up. Her mouth drops open as she flips through the pages, and her eyes widen with the guys’.

“Y-You drew these?” Hoseok asks dumbfounded, pointing at the book.

You nod brightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N! These are amazing!” Jimin exclaims.

“I knew you were talented, Y/N, but I didn’t think you were this good,” Cherry chuckles at the pages, shaking her head.

“They’re okay; I’m better at painting,” you blush at the compliments.

“No need to be humble, kid. These are way better than okay,” Yoongi says.

At Yoongi’s comment, you watch Jungkook walk over to the group, look over their shoulders at your drawings, glance at you, and then walk back over to continue tuning his guitar, all while his face remains impassive.

“Huh, you are like a little Picasso,” Namjoon says with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter shyly.

“I get why the dean was kissing your feet,” Hoseok says in awe, nodding.

“She didn’t kiss my feet,” you correct, shaking your head with knitted brows.

“He means why she praised your work,” Cherry explains.

“Oh... yeah. Mrs Baek is very nice,” you nod.

The guys all snicker, “Nice? Now that’s the first time I’ve heard that said about her,” Jimin tilts his head to the side with a slight shake.

“Well, the scholarship was nice of her,” you shrug.

They all look at you with faces of astonishment, and you give them the same look in return.

“What?” you ask, eyes wide.

“You got the dean’s scholarship?” Cherry asks, amazed.

“Yeah… is that bad?” you ask, worried at everyone’s shocked expressions.

“Man, we hit the jackpot!” Seokjin laughs with a clap of his hands.

“Getting a scholarship at Borahae, especially in Visual Arts, is very impressive, Barbs,” Cherry says as she comes and sits beside you, handing you back your sketchbook.

“You are very talented, Shortstack. Army of Bombs is honoured to have you design our logo; I’m sure you’ll make us proud,” Taehyung winks.

“I’ll do my bestest!” you declare with a determined nod but then pause before continuing, “On one condition, though,” you say, holding up your index finger.

Their eyes fill with apprehension, “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Remember to thank Y/N with $1 million when you become rich and famous,” you smile brightly.

They all chuckle at your cuteness when an irritated voice interrupts.

“Are we rehearsing today or not; because I have other places I could be,” Jungkook says in exasperation.

The boys roll their eyes and then move to take their positions. Seokjin sits beside you and nudges your shoulder with his; you turn to look at him.

“Thank you for helping us; we seriously appreciate it,” he says, shifting his eyes to the band. You follow his gaze to Jungkook. “All of us,” he finishes.

You look back at Seokjin, “I’m happy to do it,” you reply with a soft smile.

Cherry puts an arm around you, pulls you into her side, and gives you a little squeeze. You rest your head on her shoulder as the band begins to play. The loud music you previously had only heard through the walls shakes the room. Your body vibrates, and your ears ring as a sentimental smile forms on your lips at the nostalgia.

☾☀︎

It has been two weeks since you started attending the band’s rehearsals, and Jungkook still has not said a single word to you. He barely even looks at you, but when he does, it is brief, as if he is looking right through you.

The rest of the band seems to have accepted you into their circle quite warmly, even Yoongi, who isn’t very expressive; however, Jungkook remains cold and distant. You refuse to believe someone so beautiful could be so closed off. You have never been a girl who gives up quickly, so you have become determined to get the boy to embrace you just as the rest have — maybe even more. You can’t ignore the attraction you feel for him, not just physically, but it seems something deeper is compelling you to him.

Sitting in your newly designated spot on the sofa, Jungkook approaches you, and you perk up at the hope that this is the breakthrough you have been waiting for. But to your disappointment, as usual, your presence is dismissed as though you don’t exist; he reaches to the side table next to the sofa and picks up a water bottle. You stare at him as he chugs the liquid, watching his Adam’s apple bob and the sweat trickle down his neck.

He is captivating and handsome no matter what he does, even with the moody, intimidating aura around him.

Your eyes flicker down his body, and his arm catches your eye. As this is the first time you have seen him without a jacket on, you have never gotten to admire how his right arm, from his fingers going all the way up, is fully decorated with intricate ink designs.

This time, your gawking must be too much for Jungkook because only a second later, he sets his gaze on you.

“What?” he snaps.

You lift your eyes to his own, “What?” you blink.

The roll of his eyes is something you’re familiar with now, so you don’t take it to heart.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and exhales slowly through his nose as if calming himself, “You’re staring.”

You nod, “I am. I always do. You’re so pretty,” you say as if it’s obvious, gazing into his eyes.

You smile when his eyes meet yours. He turns his head to the side, looking away from you and clears his throat.

“You’re staring more than usual,” he states.

You seize the opportunity and jump off the sofa to his side; he flinches slightly at your suddenness.

“I was looking at your tattoos; I never noticed them. I like them! They are almost as pretty as you,” you take hold of his arm to examine the designs.

Jungkook rips his arm out of your grasp like your touch burns his skin. You don’t let his movement stop you, carrying on.

“They must have been painful. You are so brave to have done that,” you point at Jungkook’s arm, smiling in awe.

“They’re tattoos, not battle scars,” he grumbles, his tone grim.

“You’re so funny, Jungkookie,” you giggle.

His head whips, his jaw clenched, and he steps forward, towering over you.

“Don’t call me that,” his teeth gritted, his voice low, almost a growl.

Jungkook’s eyes flash dangerously, throwing a look meant to be a warning, but it completely unfazed you.

“Why don’t you like it? I think it fits you perfectly; your eyes are like big chocolate chips,” you tiptoe to peer into his eyes, not paying attention to how close your faces are to each other.

Jungkook stares back silently, then he leans back, looks to the side, blinks, clears his throat again, and pushes you back by your shoulders.

You turn your head to his big hand on your shoulder and blush; his touch is warm and not too forceful, just enough to create a suitable distance between you.

Then he tilts his head, “Are you always so annoying?” he sighs.

“I don’t think I’m annoying,” you say nonchalantly with a shrug yet pouting.

Jungkook only shakes his head, blinking once again before he walks away with a quiet curse escaping his lips.

☾☀︎

You waltz into the garage, no longer hesitant; it has become a place of comfort for you.

“Hi!” you announce your arrival and are greeted with hellos from those present. Your eyes shift, and you notice that a few members are missing, most notably the man of your dreams.

“Where’s Jungkookie?” you ask, not bothering to name the others absent.

Namjoon picks up on this but doesn’t mention it. He chuckles as he replies, “JK, Tae, and Jimin are on their way; they should be here soon.”

You nod, relaxing slightly; your eyebrows unfurrow, and your shoulders ease.

You settle beside Cherry on the sofa in your spot, pull out your sketchbook from your tote bag and open it to see the rough drawings you have made for the Army of Bombs logo. The book now has several pages of draft illustrations that you hope will lead you to the final design. You also pull out a new lollipop, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth, humming in satisfaction.

“What flavour is it today?” she grins and nods towards your candy.

You pull out the red sweet and point it towards her with a wink, “Cherry,” you giggle.

“Ah! The superior flavour, as expected, great taste, Barbs,” she says, shooting a finger gun at you.

“Bubble gum is the greatest flavour, actually, but cherry is a very close second,” you correct jokingly.

You hear gravel crunching, and then Jungkook and the other boys enter the garage. His figure almost glowing as you watch him walk in.

“Sup,” Jungkook says, greeting the guys and doing that dap-hug guys do.

“Hi, Jungkookie!” you wave enthusiastically.

You don’t see how Cherry raises a brow at him, knowing his habit of ignoring you. He sighs and turns to you reluctantly.

“Hi,” his voice curt. The second the word is out of his mouth, he turns away, but you beam at the attention.

“Hey, Shortstack.”

Taehyung walks over and hugs you, patting your head.

“Hi, Taetae, where were you guys?”

“We were at the venue for our upcoming gig, just checking some last-minute stuff. Why did you miss us?” Taehyung pinches your cheek.

You nod, although you missed one of them more than the rest. Taehyung chortles, patting your head again with fond eyes.

“Sorry, Shorty. We had to take care of business,” Jimin taps your chin.

“Bold of you to call her Shorty,” Cherry quips, eyes darting up and down Jimin’s body.

“Haha. Funny,” Jimin laughs mockingly, “Why don’t you tell that joke to your boyfriend?”

“Touche, Park,” Cherry narrows her eyes at the mention of her equally short boyfriend.

Although, the whole band still towers over you.

“Why am I getting caught in the crossfire? I’ve been silent,” Yoongi comments.

Cherry waves him off, “Barbs, you should come to the show,” she taps your knee lightly.

Jungkook, whose back is facing you, winces at the invitation. The idea of you coming to their show already agitating him.

“Yeah, Y/N! You have to see us at our full effect!” Hoseok agrees.

“Really? That would be so cool!” you smile, bouncing in your seat.

“She has already been sitting in on all our rehearsals; is it necessary for her to come to our gigs?” Jungkook counters.

“Rehearsals and live shows are completely different,” Namjoon replies, “You have to come and see us to get the total Army of Bombs experience,” he adds, speaking to you.

“It’s not real rock and roll if you don’t have a crowd cheering you on, it’d be great to have you there,” Taehyung says.

“And it’d be great to have someone else to keep me company; Seokjin doesn’t cut it,” Cherry pouts to you.

“Now I’m catching strays,” Seokjin whispers to Yoongi.

“So you’ll come?” Cherry’s eyes are hopeful.

“I’ll come!”

And Jungkook grits his teeth at your answer.

☾☀︎

You’re in your bedroom with Cherry, and the both of you are getting ready to go to the guys’ show. They are playing at a bar known for having live performances—The Golden Bottle. It usually attracts a large crowd, but an even larger turnout tonight is expected since Army of Bombs is well-known in town.

Cherry had picked out your outfit: a hot pink latex strapless mini-dress paired with silver chunky platform heels. It’s still you—as Cherry had put it— “with just a little edge”. Since she picked your outfit, you’re doing her makeup in trade.

“When you told your parents you’re going to see a rock show, did they freak out?” Cherry asks as you apply her eyeshadow.

“No, my mom thought it sounded like fun! Plus, she knows you’re my friend, so she trusts me to go with you,” you tell her.

”What about your dad? You seem like you’d be a daddy’s girl?”

Your hand freezes as you move to pick up the blush brush, but you gather yourself quickly, hoping Cherry doesn’t see your falter.

“Um, my dad isn’t around,” you say, phrasing your words carefully.

“Hey, I understand. My parents are divorced too,” Cherry waves her hand at you, “My dad lives in a different city; I barely talk to him, let alone see him.”

“Oh, no, that’s not... I-I mean, that’s sad too... but,” you stammer over your words, “My dad, he, um, he passed away,” you finally get out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N—” she begins, her eyes widening with a face of guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize; you didn’t know,” you cut her off, offering her a reassuring smile.

“How long ago? W-wait, oh god, I’m being insensitive, aren’t I? That’s insensitive. I didn’t mean to—” she starts nervously babbling.

“You’re not, Cher,” you let out an airy laugh, “It’s been a little over a year and a half. It was a car accident,” you tell her, knowing she probably wanted to ask but was already feeling remorseful.

”So it’s just me and my mom now,” you say, dabbing the blush brush into the powder.

Cherry’s sad eyes look down as she fiddles with her fingers in her lap, not knowing what to say. You begin applying the peach powder on the apples of her cheeks.

“But you were right,” you break the silence. “I am a daddy’s girl, but he also would have thought it was super cool that I was going to a rock show.” You smile fondly at the thought.

Cherry smiles, and her body is no longer tense. She gets a view of her reflection in your vanity mirror and gasps.

“Oh my gosh, look at me! If they made a punk rock Barbie, it’d look like me,” Cherry laughs.

”Hey, no fair. You weren’t supposed to see yet,” you fake pout, “I still have to do my finishing touches.”

You twist open a tube of lip gloss and apply it to Cherry’s lips. Your tongue sticks out slightly as you focus, and Cherry pokes at it with her finger, causing you both to giggle.

“Okay! All done,” you back up, admiring your work, “I have finished my new masterpiece. You were pretty before, but now you’re pretty with sparkly eyelids,” you smile proudly.

Cherry gets up and hooks your arms together, dragging you to the full-length mirror to check out your final looks. She is wearing a black leather mini-dress that fits her like a second skin; she looks phenomenal.

“Damn, we look hot!” she exclaims, “Wait till the crowd gets a look at us. I bet the whole audience won’t even be watching the band play; they’ll be too focused on us,” she jokes.

“I hope Jungkookie thinks I look good,” you giggle as you fix some strands of your hair.

“Barbs,” Cherry’s voice now a bit cautious, “You don’t like Jungkook for real, right? Like, have feelings for him?”

“I do,” you nod, your eyes brightening, “Why is something wrong? Does he have a girlfriend already?” you question, worried.

“No, he doesn’t,” she shakes her head.

Your shoulders relax at her answer.

“But,” she continues, “I don’t think Jungkook is the best fit for you,” she rushes to explain when she sees you frown.

“He’s my friend, don’t get me wrong. I get it if you have a crush on him; he’s a good-looking guy. I just don’t think,” she pauses to think over her words, “You’re such a sweet girl, but Jungkook isn’t the type of guy to commit. And when it comes to girls, he isn’t the nicest, and I don’t want you to take him not liking you back personally.”

“He doesn’t have to like me back; me liking him is enough for me,” you shrug and give her a grin. “I think he’s the most handsome guy ever, and I want to get close to him.”

“He doesn’t open up that easily, so don’t take him not being the most caring to heart. He doesn’t consider others where feelings are concerned. You’re my friend, too, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You pull Cherry into a hug, and she rubs your back. When you pull away, you smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Cherry. I like being around him; there’s no harm in that. I won’t get hurt.”

She nods, “Okay, but still, just be careful, alright?”

You nod, and she sighs, “Then, with that, let’s get going, Barbs. Yoongi will have my head if we’re late.”

☾☀︎

You and Cherry enter the bar arm-in-arm, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke hits you. The aged dark wood reveals how old this dingy bar is. It maintains its historical familiarity, but a few newer elements show the renovations made to keep the place relevant for younger patrons.

The venue is full of people, bustling with life when you arrive. The two of you push through the packed crowd to the front of the stage, with Cherry leading. You navigate through the crowd with relative ease, thanks to her aggressive elbowing, while your eyes wander all over, scanning the mass of people, all about to see Army of Bombs perform.

“There are so many people, it’s like they’re celebrities,” you lean over, speaking directly into Cherry’s ear due to the noise of the patrons, the soft clinking of glasses, loud drunken chatter, others laughing boisterously in their groups.

“In this town, they are. Almost everyone knows of them or at least has seen them play before,” Cherry tells you, leaning in as well.

The lights overhead dim, and then the crowd erupts out into cheers. You can feel the energy pulsing through the air. You and Cherry stand pressed close together, shoulders touching as she keeps a secure arm around you to keep together amongst the upcoming chaos. You can see the silhouettes of the band as they take their positions. You find Jungkook’s figure right away. The stage lights turn on as Jimin takes the mic, and the feedback rings through the speakers.

“What’s up, everyone? We are Army of Bombs! Hope you’re ready to rock out!” he yells before turning and nodding to Namjoon.

Namjoon does the count-off, and the set begins with the last hit of his sticks. Jungkook plays the opening note to the first song, followed by Jimin’s voice as the rest of the band joins in.

The bar’s atmosphere becomes electric with the music, the audience’s screams, the many devil’s horns raised in the air, and the headbanging. The guys are performing their all, but your eyes remain on Jungkook: how fast his fingers move on his guitar strings during his solos, how his melodic voice resounds as he sings backup, and how his body glides around on stage in tune with the melody so effortlessly. The lights shine down, glistening as sweat accumulates on him, and you’ve never seen someone look so angelic and sinful all at once.

You and Cherry get lost in the music, jumping up and down while you sing along to songs that you have now memorized. All too soon, the last notes of the final song of the set fade, and the crowd roars, chanting the band’s name.

The guys all come to the edge of the stage out of breath, bowing and sending out waves and winks to the audience, basking in the glory. Jungkook pushes back his sweat-dampened hair, chest heaving as his eyes sweep the crowd; they find you.

His gaze lingers on you longer than usual, and you swear everything else fades; you two are the only people in the room as your eyes lock. The world moves in slow motion. You get tunnel vision; he is all you can see, and all the screams become white noise. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel your blood rushing through your veins. But then the spell breaks, and he’s walking off the stage with the rest of the band.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and spin around, spotting Seokjin standing behind you and Cherry.

“Hey, Shoulders,” you wave.

“Hey, I had to make sure the VIPs of our fan club attended the after-party. I’m heading backstage to meet the guys; I gotta talk to the bar manager, but we’ll be at the lounge afterwards, so meet us there,” Seokjin points his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

“Okay, see you guys there,” Cherry nods.

Seokjin walks through the mass of people and disappears, heading backstage. Once he’s gone, Cherry grabs your hand and leans in to speak to you.

“Let’s go touch up our makeup first,” she says, and you nod. You let her lead the way to the restrooms, holding your hand.

☾☀︎

With the time it takes the two of you to wait in line for the restroom, freshen up your makeup, and elbow your way to the lounge, the guys are already there.

When you approach the entrance to the lounge, a security guard is blocking it. Cherry yells over his shoulder to get Yoongi’s attention. When he sees you two, he walks over and pats the security on the back, telling him to let you two in.

Cherry wraps her arms around Yoongi’s neck, kissing him on the lips and complimenting him on how much of a good show it was, and you think you see a blush form on his cheeks. You smile at their interaction and decide to give them a moment alone.

You look around, hoping to spot Jungkook, but there are too many people in the lounge to get a view of everybody. You spot Namjoon standing in a corner talking to some people, so you go to him.

He shifts his head while in conversation, and once he notices you approaching, he smiles and hugs you.

“Great show, Joonbug!” you speak loudly over the music playing.

“Thanks, I’m glad you made it. I told you it was way different than rehearsals, didn’t I,” Namjoon nudges your elbow with his.

”It was insane; it was like you guys were different people. I felt like I didn’t know you at all,” you laugh, and he does as well.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Invitation is always open to our shows; you’re more than welcome to them.”

“I will! I got told I am a VIP of your fan club, so I can’t disappoint,” you wink, “By the way, where’s everyone else? I want to congratulate them on the show,” you swivel your head around; finally asking the question that you have been itching to ask.

You follow the direction he points to with the neck of his beer bottle and see the rest of the band sitting on the couches surrounded by people, primarily women. You try to mask the frown that threatens to take over your face when you notice Jungkook sitting between two girls, his arm resting on the back of the couch as the girl on his right leans into his side.

Ignoring the twist of your stomach, you saunter over to the couches with your head held high. When you are close enough, Jungkook’s eyes flicker in your direction absentmindedly, and just as he glances away, he does a subtle double take once he registers it’s you approaching. He gives you a discreet up and down as you walk closer.

Hoseok notices you, already seeming to be a bit tipsy; his arms shoot up like he just shot a goal.

“You made it!” he smiles, his voice booming.

You wave nervously as everyone’s attention lands on you, but your face flushes from having Jungkook in front of you. Jimin and Taehyung give you a much more blatant scan of your body up and down with approving smirks on their face.

Taehyung rests his drink on the glass table in front of the couch and gets up to give you a tight hug. When he lets go, his hands run down your arm, squeezing your hand as he steps back to glance over your outfit again.

“My, my. Shortstack, don’t you look extra lovely tonight,” he says.

“Lovely? She looks fucking hot!” Cherry appears beside you, wrapping an arm around you in a side hug, causing Taehyung’s hand to let go.

“I was going to be gentlemanly with my words, but yeah, you look fucking incredible, Shorty,” Jimin shoots you a wink, raising his bottle.

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“Speaking of incredible, the performance was fantastic! You all looked so so so cool, you sounded so so so good, and—and everything was just amazing!” you beam, bouncing in place.

“You know how to boost a man’s ego, Y/N,” Hoseok chuckles.

You continue brightly, speaking to Jungkook, “Your guitar playing was really, really awesome, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook raises his brows and stretches his mouth in a tight line, his dimples emerging even though he does not smile.

“Wow, Y/N, I’m sad. You’re just going to ignore your cheer captain without even saying hi?” a voice makes you turn your head.

You failed to catch that the girl sitting to the right of Jungkook was none other than Jess, and with a quick scan, you soon see Mei sitting on his left and Kat sitting next to Jimin. A frown threatens to break out on your face for the second time when you see Jungkook’s arm resting on the backrest behind her. Somehow, it bugs you more now that you know the girl.

You compose yourself, keeping your voice bright, “Oh, Jess, I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you. Hi!”

“I didn’t think I would run into you here. I didn’t know this was your kind of scene,” Jess says, eyes raking over you in a judgemental manner you don’t pick up on.

But Cherry instantly does, and alarm bells go off as she carefully observes Jess’s behaviour. Jungkook sits silently and watches your interaction.

“They invited me to the show; they’re my friends,” you smile as you gesture to the guys.

“Friends, huh?” Jess turns to Jungkook, tilting her head with a fake pout and laying a hand on his chest, “Where was my invite? I thought we were friends?”

Jungkook shrugs in response, taking a sip of his drink. Your breath hitches at their contact, but you keep calm.

Cherry pulls you to sit down with her, and you find yourself sitting directly in front of Jungkook.

“Y/N is designing our band logo for us since she is an art genius,” Jimin says to Jess and motions to you.

“Ah! So you’re working for them,” Jess nods to herself as if she finally understands the situation.

Cherry narrows her eyes but grins as she speaks, “More like she’s a friend helping out; she’s doing the band a huge favour.”

“Well, AoB is the hottest band in town,” Jess rubs a hand along Jungkook’s thigh with her eyes fixed on him.

Your heart clenches. For one, because Jungkook accepts Jess’s touch and welcomes it—something he doesn’t do with you. Also, because she’s pretty, and a pretty boy like Jungkook belongs with a pretty girl like her.

She continues looking at you with a smile.“So I hope you’re able to design something worthy.”

“I hope so too!” you answer warm and cheerfully, oblivious.

“She will,” Cherry says curtly to Jess before switching her attention to Seokjin, “So what did you talk to the manager about?”

“Oh, right!” he claps, remembering his previous conversation. “He was so impressed with the response we received from the crowd that he offered us a full weekend gig! Friday to Sunday, baby!” he hollers.

The band also celebrates, with high fives going all around. You even catch a hint of a smile on Jungkook’s face.

“Fuck yeah!” Jimin fist pumps.

“What are we celebrating?” Namjoon asks as he and Yoongi join the group. He sits beside you, and Yoongi sits beside Cherry.

“We got offered a full weekend gig here,” Hoseok informs them.

“Man, that’s great! Y/N must have brought us good luck,” Namjoon punches your knee lightly.

“Or the manager must have finally caught up with the rest of town and realized how talented you guys are,” Mei says, fluttering her eyelashes.

Seokjin bypasses her comment, “It’s not for another month, and I’m not trying to rush anyone,” he glances at you, “But it would be a perfect time for us to unveil our logo.”

“That would be sick! Do you think you could finish it by then, Shortstack?”

Feeling put on the spot with everyone’s hopeful eyes on you, you stutter, “U-um, I—”

“Don’t pressure her, you nimrod. Art takes time; she’s not a machine,” Cherry chides him.

“It was just a question,” Taehyung defends with his hands raised.

“A stupid question,” Cherry disputes.

Namjoon leans over to you as they bicker, “There’s no pressure, seriously,” his voice soft. He nudges your knee gently with his.

You look at him and nod with a grateful smile.

“Have you designed a logo before, Y/N?” Jess asks.

“No, this is my first one. I’m so excited to do it.”

“Are you sure you can do it? I’m sure you’re good, but a rock band logo isn’t the same style as painting flowers and trees, right?”

This time, her words sting. It’s a common occurrence—people doubting your art. You don’t let it get to you; you know what you’ve done and what you can do. You don’t have to prove your talents to anyone; your work speaks for itself.

“It is, but I am good. I can do it,” you shrug with an assured tone.

“Enough about the logo. You guys are playing a full weekend; I’ve never heard of a band booking three nights in a row here,” Cherry enthusiastically changes topics.

“I know. The manager said he couldn’t remember the last time he booked the same act for an entire weekend, but the crowd’s reaction blew him away,” Seokjin matches Cherry’s enthusiasm.

“We should write a new song and debut it on our first night, create some extra buzz. What do you say, JK? Up to working on one?” Yoongi says, asking the member who has been silent so far.

Jungkook nods, “I have a few different scores I’ve been working on; I recorded some of them already. I’ll send them to you.��

Yoongi nods in reply. You’re awestruck by this revelation; it shows on your face and tone of voice.

“You can write scores?”

His eyes shift to you, and he nods as his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers. Your eyes stay locked on each other until Jess’s voice cuts in.

“He’s a musician; obviously, he can write,” she sneers, with Mei and Kat snickering.

Cherry, fed up, is about to clap back, and her mouth opens, but you speak before she can.

“A lot of musicians don’t know how to write or read music,” You lift your fingers and count, “Jimi Hendrix, Slash, Eddie Van Halen, all of The Beatles, some of the greatest guitarists in rock and none of them could write or read scores. So it’s impressive that he can do both.”

Cherry looks at you with proud eyes, and the guys look at you taken aback. Even Jungkook looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes, although his face is still emotionless.

You fail to see how Jungkook hides his smirk when he raises his beer to take a sip and how his arm no longer rests behind Jess.

You bat your eyelashes, chuckle, and add, “But what am I saying? I’m sure you already know playing an instrument isn’t the same as writing scores, right? Since this is more your scene than mine.”

“Exactly, I meant he’s a trained musician, so of course he knows how to do both,” Jess tries to save face, her eyes shifting in embarrassment, “No need to get all defensive, Y/N.”

“Y-Yeah, Jess knows all about rock,” Kat says. Mei nods in agreement.

Cherry scoffs audibly and grabs your wrist, “Let’s go get drinks before I say something I won’t regret and hurt some feelings,” she glares at the three cheerleaders.

She gets up and pulls you with her. When you both reach the bar, she huffs, rolling her eyes, “Can you believe them? What bitches! The nerve! I’m usually a girl’s girl, but—ugh! I hate girls like them, acting all high and mighty when all they are are a bunch of desperate groupies. I was so fucking close to giving her a piece of my mind.”

She glances at you and smirks, “But I didn’t have to, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you. You sure are full of surprises, Barbs. Where did all of that come from?”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Oh, don’t give me that! I know you were giving her a taste of her own medicine. You kept your innocent demeanour but were quick with your comeback about guitarists. How do you even know all that anyway?”

“It’s just something I know,” you say casually with a shrug, hoping to bypass the topic.

Luckily, the bartender comes over before Cherry can say anything else. She tells him her drink order and looks over at you, to which you shake your head, not wanting to drink tonight. When the bartender walks away to make her mojito, she leans in to speak to you.

“I have to pee,” Cherry says as she looks towards the restrooms. “Can you grab my drink and wait for me here?”

You nod and give her a thumbs up, not bothering to give a vocal response over the music. She returns the gesture and manoeuvres through the sea of people.

You puff out your cheeks as you wait, tapping your fingers on the glass bar while staring at the shelves of alcohol bottles on the wall behind the counter illuminated by red and blue lights.

When you feel a hand on your lower back, you turn with a small smile, stunned at how quickly Cherry peed, but instead of your vibrant-haired friend, you face a sweaty, tipsy, dishevelled man.

The man is drenched in sweat but not in a soft glow from dancing. His face is dripping, several beads streaming down. The dark stains on his shirt sticking to his skin are apparent even in the low lighting.

His presence instantly fills you with worry. You step away, sure not to be within arm’s reach of him. He stands in front of you with a greasy smirk; although he is standing in place, his body sways due to intoxication.

“Hey,” he says over the music, voice a bit louder than necessary.

“Hi,” you reply, leaning over the counter to get a glimpse of the bartender.

The tipsy stranger ducks his head into your view, blocking your line of sight of the bartender. You try to suppress a cringe when the stench of perspiration and booze hits you, burying your nostrils.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this? Get lost on your way to an Ariana Grande concert,” he laughs at his lame joke.

“I’m here with friends,” you say, hoping he will leave you alone if you mention you are with people.

It does nothing of the sort, and his smirk widens, “Hmm, with friends, so not with a boyfriend?” he asks, his speech slurred.

“Um—”

He interrupts, stepping towards you, invading your space again, “If I were your boyfriend, I would never let you out of my sight. A sexy woman like you should never be left alone.”

His bloodshot, predatory eyes and creepy attempt at flirting were making you extra uncomfortable; drunk guys and rejection often led to anger, and you did not want this guy to become aggressive with you.

“I-I’m not alone; my friend will be back soon,” you glance over your shoulder, pointing to the restrooms. “Uh, so—”

“I’ll keep you company then. It’s not safe for a gorgeous girl like you here,” he licks his lips and coats them sloppily with his saliva, taking a step closer to you. He leans in, his wet lips disgustingly brushing the shell of your ear, “There are plenty of bad men just waiting to get their hands on a sweet thing like you.”

With the crowd surrounding you, you cannot back away from him. As a sense of panic begins to form in the pit of your stomach, you internally scold yourself for not walking away from this guy the second he approached you.

You try to muster your refusal, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak, “I don’t—No, I don’t want—”

You feel physically ill. Your breathing starts to pick up, and your palms turn clammy as they raise to push at the creep’s chest to create even the smallest distance between you two.

Suddenly, the drunk creep is yanked back by the back of his shirt, sending him stumbling back into the people behind him. He barely manages to catch himself with a hand on the bar.

A gasp leaves you, but despite the slight chaos, so does your panic. The man’s red, glassy eyes widen and match yours in shock. Your body stiffens. Slowly, you both turn your heads towards the source, your heartbeat pounding. Your eyes remain the same while his eyes narrow into slits filled with irritation as your sights land on your saviour. And as much as it adds to your shock, instant relief takes over your body, and you visibly relax as you release a breath.

“Everything okay here?”

Jungkook stands beside you, his stance intimidating. Towering with his hands in his front pockets, he shows no sign of agitation, but his stern calmness and his strong physique show he is not to be messed with.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What’s your problem?” the drunkard spits out, too intoxicated to recognize this is one of the guys he just watched perform.

“You good?” he asks, focused on you, completely ignoring the man.

“We were just having some friendly conversation, right, doll?” the persistent creep slurs his interjections, sending you a wink.

“I didn’t ask you,” Jungkook retorts sharply.

“We were just talking, bro. Ease up,” the man tries to defuse the tense encounter he has got himself in.

“Were you guys talking?” Jungkook looks down at you, waiting for your answer.

You look at him with big, uneasy eyes and shake your head.

Jungkook steps in front of you, blocking your view of your harasser. His firm body acts as a shield. You feel so small standing behind him but have never felt more protected, more safe.

Jungkook narrows his eyes in a glare with his chest puffed out, “Looks like now you’re done talking; conversation over. Bro.”

With way too much pride and ignorance, in an attempt to get in Jungkook’s face, the drunk takes a step forward, but instead of standing nose to nose, the men stand nose to chin.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the creep sneers.

But Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t budge.

Jungkook tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. He almost looks amused, but there is nothing funny about the way he lets out a snicker through his nose and bends slightly, burning gaze staring the man dead in the eye to say,

“The guy telling you to fuck off.”

There are about three seconds of them having a stare-down. Jungkook is unrelenting, his confident yet harsh stance unmoving.

The drunkard cracks under the unnerving pressure, and his alcohol-induced cockiness falters. Accepting the evident disparity between the two and becoming reconciled to the physical disadvantage he is at, the drunk finally gives up. With a parting huff, he mutters one last expletive and stumbles away.

You are still left with some remaining shock, partly from that whole interaction and also partly from Jungkook coming to your rescue. Relief could barely settle in your chest before it’s ripped away.

“Thank you, Jungk—”

Jungkook turns around, runs his tatted fingers through his hair, and his eyes settle on you, annoyed.

Your breath hitches, your entire body frozen in place. Jungkook had just jumped in and rescued you from a drunken creep. Yet, there isn’t a single ounce of sympathy in his expression—only irritation. It feels as though you have caused him an inconvenience. Gone is the protective man who was an impenetrable defender. Now stands an uncaring, vexed man.

He clicks his tongue.

“If you can’t hold your own, you shouldn’t come to places like this,” he gestures around vaguely, unimpressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Everything’s not all sunshine and rainbows all the time. There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

You are stunned in silence, not expecting to be reprimanded for being cornered by some intoxicated jerk and saddened that this is the most Jungkook has ever spoken to you.

“What? You’re constantly running your mouth and suddenly have nothing to say. Where did all that insufferable boldness go?” he scoffs, continuing, “I mean, you’re a chick at a bar; you didn’t expect some tipsy guy to make a pass at you? You seriously can’t be that naive, Y/N.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of Jungkook.

For the first time since meeting him, Jungkook’s gaze is unwanted. You wish his attention were on someone else as you hang your head in shame and embarrassment.

It stings that this is the most you’ve ever heard him speak and the most emotion you’ve ever seen him express, but it’s nothing like what you’ve dreamt of; it’s all negative. It’s hurtful.

That familiar feeling surges back within you: being berated, talked down to, made to feel small.

Overwhelmed by everything that has happened—Jess, the drunk creep, and now Jungkook—all these confrontations are beginning to take a toll on you. You feel your throat tighten, and your breathing picks up once again.

“I d-didn’t—”

“I’m back! Sorry, that line was killer. I swear I was about to piss myself,” Cherry returns. Surprise on her face at seeing Jungkook with you, she quickly looks between you two, sensing the tension and scanning your face; she gently touches your upper arm, “Hey, you okay?”

Still avoiding looking at Jungkook, you sheepishly give Cherry a nod and a tight smile. Jungkook’s gaze drags a quick once-over, a slow run of his tongue over his lip rings, and a sniff before he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“If you insist on bringing her here, watch after your friend.”

Jungkook walks away, and from your peripheral vision, you see the same broad back that was protecting you minutes ago disappear into the crowd.

“What the hell is his problem?” Cherry says as she watches him walk away. “Did something happen? Was he mean to you? I’ll kick his ass if he was an ass to you.”

With a hand still on your upper arm, she uses her other to point in the direction Jungkook walked off to and is already taking a step forward to go after him.

You frantically shake your head, pulling her back by her wrist.

“No, no, he helped me. There, um, there was this creepy guy who was drunk and was bothering me. Jungkookie made him leave me alone.”

Cherry doesn’t hide the astonishment on her face; her eyebrows shoot up so high that if they go any higher, they will touch her hairline.

“Jungkook? He helped you?” she asks in disbelief.

You find her reaction interesting; Jungkook is standoffish, but was it so shocking that he would help someone in need? Even someone as aloof as him would swoop in when they see a damsel in distress and save them, so it shouldn’t be such a shock to his good friend. Right?

Or was this really out of the norm for Jungkook? And if so, why did he save you?

You nod.

“Oh…” Cherry glances in the direction Jungkook went, and after coming out of whatever thoughts were running through her mind, she turns back to you in worry, “Well, what about you? Are you sure you’re alright? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

“No, I’m okay. The guy got a bit too close, but Jungkookie showed up before he could do anything,” you reassure her, putting on the best smile you can muster right now.

Her eyes flicker over your face, assessing your expression to be sure you’re telling the truth, and she takes your word with a worried nod. She pulls you into a hug as she sighs in relief.

“Okay, good. I’m glad someone was here to help you. I would have hated myself if my bladder had created the opening for some drunk creep to get to you,” Cherry shudders at the thought, “That fucker, though! What’s with tonight? I’m so sorry, Barbs. I did not want your first AoB show to turn out like this.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, Cher. I’m honestly okay,” you squeeze her hand and gesture around at the bar, “And no offence, but I didn’t expect this place to be crawling with prince charmings,” you giggle, attempting to lighten the mood regarding how the night went.

Cherry also glances around and giggles, “Fair, and hey, I mean, I did say we look hot. I should have been on high alert for creeps. Hotties like us always have to be on the radar for hopeless losers,” she rolls her eyes, smirking.

“I think Yoongs was keeping the losers at bay for you, you know, with his… face,” you wave a hand over your face and laugh.

“Yeah, gotta love my Yoongi the Grouch,” Cherry smiles fondly, her eyes twinkling at the topic of her boyfriend, “He’s like my own personal creep deflector. We should get back to him before we start attracting them,” Cherry grabs her mojito, the glass now covered in condensation.

“Do you mind if I go home? There has been a lot of excitement for me for one night. I’m still getting used to this rock and roll lifestyle.”

“Sure, let me finish this drink and tell Yoongi; then we can head out.”

“You don’t have to leave because of me. I can go on my own; I don’t want to ruin your night,” your words trail off as Cherry sends you a look.

“Barbs, I invited you. We came together, and we’re leaving together. I have been to enough shows; I know I’m not missing anything. Plus, I would never let you go alone at this time. Are you crazy? What kind of friend would I be?”

You smile, this one reaching your eyes. You have to blink back tears. Cherry’s friendship is unwavering; she is one of a kind.

With that, Cherry lifts her drink to her lips and chugs it down like it’s water, and you two are off to tell Yoongi that you’re heading out.

When you return to the lounge, subconsciously, your eyes find Jungkook. He’s back to sitting on the couch with Jess tucked into his side as if he never left that spot. You catch his eyes flicker over to you so briefly that you almost doubt it even happened.

Yoongi notices Cherry return without a drink and gives her a questioning look. She leans down slightly to speak to him.

“We’re going to go home now; tonight’s been a lot for Y/N,” Cherry tells him. Without Cherry even asking, Yoongi nods, downs the rest of his beer, and gets up to leave with the two of you.

“No way! You guys are going? You can’t leave yet!” Hoseok calls out.

Namjoon smirks at you, “Party too hard, Little Picasso?”

“I was right; this isn’t your scene after all, huh?” Jess remarks with that antagonizing smile you are becoming familiar with. Mei and Kat snickered at her remark.

“No, some drunk bastard was harassing her,” Cherry speaks for you.

That shuts Jess up quickly and catches the band’s attention. Jungkook sits up straighter as his body tenses. The rest of the guys focus on you, their faces now serious.

Jimin and Taehyung stand up, “Are you okay, Shortstack? Did he touch you?”

“I’m okay,” you smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Who was the son of a bitch? We’ll find him and take care of him,” Jimin says.

You wave your hands to stop them.

“It’s fine now. You guys don’t have to. It—He’s been taken care of,” you tell the guys to calm them down, your eyes going to Jungkook for a fraction of a second.

Jungkook, who is still avoiding looking your way, is biting on his lip rings—but otherwise seemingly totally removed from the conversation.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” your voice is smaller than usual, but your eyes are as big as a scared puppy, and you can feel your face heat up again from all the unwanted attention you’re causing.

“We can’t let him get off scot-free, especially doing something like that on our night here and to one of our crew,” Namjoon remarks.

Being called part of their crew doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you are too worried about them causing a ruckus because of you, especially after the whole Jungkook thing, his words still lingering in your head.

“There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

“She’s right; he’s been dealt with already,” Cherry says, her eyes locking on Jungkook, who meets her gaze, holding it for a moment, then continues, “I don’t think he’ll be a problem again. Y/N wants to get out of here, and I can’t blame her. I would want to call it a night, too.”

Reluctantly, the guys settle down, and Taehyung pulls you into a hug and cranes his neck to look at your face, “This didn’t scare you off from coming to our shows, right?”

“Y/N? Are you kidding? Nah, she just joined the fan club; I even made her a VIP. Of course not,” Seokjin says, winking and playfully ruffling your hair.

The drastic change of now being flooded with words and touches of comfort warms you and melts away the anxiousness.

“Yeah, I can’t give up my spot that quickly,” you laugh.

“Well, just to be sure, I’m promoting you to fan club president, so it’s mandatory to attend live shows,” Taehyung narrows his eyes and points at you.

“Yes, sir!” you bring your hand to your brow in a salute.

“Get some rest, Prez. We’ll see you at rehearsal,” Jimin bids you farewell, hugging you tight and kissing the top of your head.

Hoseok and Namjoon also hug you goodbye. While hugging Namjoon perched on your tiptoes, you glance at Jungkook over Namjoon’s shoulder.

Jungkook, with his typical impassive expression, has his arm back to resting on the backrest behind Jess. He faces her as she leans into him, whispering in his ear, her nails running up and down his thigh, her hand getting close to his crotch; you’re sure her fingers have grazed over it.

You tear your eyes away once you feel a hand pat your back, “Let’s get you home, kid,” Yoongi says gently.

You give him a soft nod and smile, turning to leave. With your back turned, you’re unaware of how Jungkook’s eyes trail after you. Jess, however, is very aware; she follows his gaze when she sees how uninterested he is in her flirty words and wandering hands.

You hear a voice call out.

“I’ll see you at practice Monday morning, Y/N,” Jess says with her phoney smile, her hand still inappropriately gripping Jungkook’s thigh.

You plaster on a smile that matches hers and seal it with a friendly wave.

“See you bright and early Monday, Captain!” you hesitate but decide to continue, “Bye, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook appears surprised by how his eyes widen slightly, his brows twitching, but you get no other kind of acknowledgement of your goodbye. Not a word, a wave, not even a nod.

You and Cherry tell the guys one last goodbye, and Yoongi gives them a nod before you three make your way to the exit and bring an end to this eventful night.

“I should’ve asked her what the guy looked like. I could’ve told the manager to keep an eye out for him,” Seokjin mentions after your departure.

“The girls made it sound like he won’t show his face around here anymore, but we can tell them to let us know if he does,” Namjoon says.

What you don’t know, what the guys don’t know, is that Jungkook did talk to the manager. He had him check the cameras and pointed out the guy. The drunkard is banned from the bar now.

☾☀︎

You are at cheerleading practice, doing some warmup stretches with Rina by your side. Today, the team is supposed to be running through a routine for an upcoming game; this will be your first performance since joining the team, and you are so excited to experience that rush again.��

You are helping Rina stretch, holding her leg down, when you see Jess and her minions walking across the field towards the team.

Jess jumps into business without greeting the team; she claps her hands twice and yells, “Okay, into your starting positions! You should all have this down by now; if not, don’t bother. I expect perfection.”

Practice ensues, and it’s not the smoothest. Some people make minor mistakes: a little stumble, timing a bit off, pose slightly mispositioned. But Jess watches them like a hawk, scrutinizing everyone’s performance or sending Mei or Kat to chastise them immediately if she doesn’t do it herself.

As the end of practice nears, the field erupts into mild chaos as the football team arrives, gathering for their practice. Their booming voices and boyish roughhousing practically take over the area. The quarterback, Mingyu, walks away from his team; the players are huddled at the side of the field by the bleachers while waiting their turn.

He approaches Jess, Mei, and Kat. He is still far from them when he calls, “Hey, Jess. Are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

You are performing the routine flawlessly, as you always do when Jess stops when she reaches you as she makes her rounds around the team.

There hasn’t been any mention of seeing each other that night at AoB’s show, so you thought Jess had moved past it. The little back and forth you two had was probably so minuscule in her whirlwind of a life that she must have forgotten about it already.

“Hey, Gyu, hmm, I don’t know. Jungkook and I were supposed to hang out tonight. Unless he’s going, too,” Jess turns to you, “Y/N, you’re friends with Jungkook and his band, right? Do you know if they’re going to the party?”

“I don’t know, they haven’t mentioned anything,” you shrug, “But if you already have plans with him, why would he go to a party? ” you ask, slightly out of breath.

Rina’s eyes widen beside you, and Mingyu laughs lightly with his head down. You are unaware and lost in your genuine curiosity when Mei interjects.

“Well, obviously, if he didn’t mention it, then he’s not going because he has plans with Jess,” she narrows her eyes at you.

“You can hang out at the party; it’s gonna be wild! You know how we Borahae Bears get down! You should still pull up. All of you,” Mingyu says loud enough for everyone to hear, motioning to the cheer team.

Mingyu speaks directly to you when he adds, “Tell Jungkook and the guys to come, you as well,” he smiles.

“Thanks! I’m going to their rehearsal later, so I’ll let them know,” you smile back at him.

“And if I talk to him first, I’ll tell him,” Jess adds.

“R-Right,” Mingyu nods stiffly, his eyes shifting between you and Jess.

“Well, I should go start getting ready for practice,” Mingyu points a thumb over his shoulder, “But I’ll hopefully see you all tonight,” he flashes a wink before turning around and jogging back to his team.

“A party sounds like a lot of fun!” you say to Rina with a big grin, softly clapping your hands.

With you not facing her, Jess narrows her eyes at you while clenching her hands into fists, yelling, “Practice is over!”

You flinch at the sound and see her spinning around and storming off the field with Mei and Kat running after her.

☾☀︎

Since the night at the bar, things haven’t changed regarding your interactions with Jungkook—or lack of interaction, you should say. You’ve been attending the band’s rehearsals as usual, and just as he was before, Jungkook ignores your entire existence. But of course, just as you were before, you don’t let that stop you.

Despite his harsh words, you can’t forget how he was like your knight in shining armour that night. After spending a month in his presence, he may not treat you like a friend or be as cordial as you would like, but he was there for you when you needed help. He stepped up without being asked and protected you. To you, that means something, so even if he continues to ignore you, you won’t ignore him.

Jungkook can keep up his cold, grumpy attitude, but you know, within him, there is a kind man. What he said to you may have been hurtful at the moment, but when you reflected on it in bed that night, his words sounded more like a lecture for your safety than an insult. And although he may disregard you, he has never really been rude to you despite your persistent efforts to get close to him.

So tonight, like every other time you’ve entered the garage, you say hello to all the guys present—including Jungkook.

“I’m here!” you sing, dragging out the words as you skip in, still in your cheer uniform and, of course, with a lollipop in your mouth. It’s watermelon flavour today. And once again, Mrs Lee didn’t let you pay; something about that being the last one of that flavour, so there was no point in charging you for it.

“Hey, Prez,” Jimin smiles as he looks you over, “Had practice today?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “Hey, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook keeps tuning his guitar without raising his head to spare you a glance. Taehyung, standing beside him, gives him a serious look, “Dude.”

Jungkook raises his head, “Hi,” lowers it and resumes tuning his guitar.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, swinging his bass around to hang behind him, “Hey, Shortstack, how was practice? Were you getting thrown around in the air today?”

“No, not today, Taetae,” you giggle, “But I did tumble a lot today; look how red my hands are!”

You pop your lollipop into your mouth and hold your palms up in his face, “I’m going to end up with ugly, rough hands like you guys,” your words mumble due to the candy as you pout with a slight grimace.

Taehyung grabs your wrists with a fond smile, then furrows his brows as he pretends to examine your hands, “Well, aren’t you one tough cookie.”

You smile—wait, cookie, cookie. Hmm, why does that remind you of something? Cookie? Cook? Jungkoo—Jungkookie! Right!

You gasp, startling the members; even Jungkook’s head shoots up. He watches you sceptically as you approach him.

“I almost forgot! Jungkookie, I’m supposed to tell you about the party.”

“What party?” Cherry jumps in, asking as she and the rest of the members walk through the door, entering the garage from inside.

She walks over and throws an arm around your shoulder as you answer, “The football leader told me to tell Jungkookie and the guys to come to his party. What did he say… teddy bear party?” You tap your chin, thinking.

“Football leader? Do you mean the captain, Mingyu? The Bears are having a party?” Namjoon asks with an amused grin.

“Mingyu! That’s his name!”

“Sometimes I forget you hang around those frat douches,” Cherry says.

“You know, I think I remember Jaehyun telling me about the Bears having a party at the frat house,” Jimin comments.

“Why would Mingyu tell you to tell JK about the party?” Hoseok asks.

“During practice, Jess asked me if you all were going, even though she has plans with Jungkookie tonight,” you point to Jungkook with your candy. He looks confused by what you’re saying, but you continue, “But I told her I didn’t know, so Mingyu said you all should go. He invited the cheer team, too!”

“You have plans with that bitch?” Cherry asks Jungkook.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head, then juts it to you, “I don’t know what she’s going on about.”

“Jess said you’re hanging out with her tonight. You’re not?” you ask Jungkook, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

He looks down at you, surprisingly meeting your gaze, “No, I’m not,” he sighs.

You release a breath and can’t hold back the smile on your face, “Oh... okay,” you break eye contact, looking down at your feet as you blush. His stare and words take over you; you honestly didn’t expect a direct response from him.

Cherry squeezes your shoulder, “You seriously wanna go to this party?”

“Yeah, I have to! My friend on the team is going, and I told her I would go,” you see the look of reluctance on Cherry’s face.

“Pretty, pretty please! The muscle bear said it would be fun,” you add, attempting to convince her.

“Wait, did I hear you say the cheer team is going? Like the whole team? As in multiple cheerleaders at one party?” Jimin asks you.

You nod.

And Jimin turns to the band with a firm nod and says,

“We are going to this party.“

☾☀︎

The frat house comes into view, music already pumping through the walls. You can hear the music as you walk up the porch steps, the bass thumping through the floorboards under your feet. People pack the house from the inside to the backyard; even the front lawn has a few partygoers scattered. You’re arm in arm with Cherry as you step into the house, with Yoongi and Namjoon behind you, having chosen to come here with you two instead of leaving with the others. A decision they later regretted if their groans about how long you two took to get ready are any indication.

“Okay, first objective: find the alcohol. If I’m going to be mingling among jocks, I need to be intoxicated,” Cherry announces.

The three of you chuckle at her, but the guys lead the way to the kitchen anyway. You glance around, bodies swaying to the beat on the makeshift dancefloor in the living room, pairs locking lips against the walls, a rowdy game of beer pong in the corner. Your eyes fail to find any familiar faces; although you don’t catch sight of a certain doe-eyed boy, you are scanning the place in search of Rina.

You refocus when a red solo cup gets shoved into your hands. You sniff it, scrunching your nose at the strong smell; nevertheless, you cheers with Cherry and down the drink—tequila, oh God, it’s tequila— in one go. Once the shot burns its way down your throat, you ask Namjoon to mix you a drink, asking for something much sweeter this time.

With your drink in hand, you pull Cherry in, “I have to try and find Rina.”

She nods and turns to say something in Yoongi’s ear; he nods at her in reply, and then you are off to search for your teammate. Luckily, you don’t have to search for too long; you’re passing the beer pong table when you notice a head of strawberry blonde hair sitting on the sofa nearby. You grab a hold of Cherry’s wrist as you guide her over with you.

“Rina!” you call out.

Only when you get closer do you see that she is sitting with none other than the guy who invited the team himself: Mingyu. Rina pauses midcoversation, turning away from him.

“Y/N!” she jumps up and smiles as she swoops you into a hug. You chuckle at your seemingly already intoxicated friend.

“This is Rina, my closest friend on the cheer team,” you say to Cherry, then switch to Rina, “And this is my bestie for the resties, Cherry.”

The girls give their greetings after your little introduction, and just as you expected, the three of you get along seamlessly. After a few minutes, Rina seems to remember the football player she was conversing with earlier; she sits back down beside him, bringing him into the conversation, “I was just telling Gyu, I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen so many people enjoying themselves like this. It’s nice.”

The nickname doesn’t go unnoticed by you, nor does the way Mingyu flushes it; you make a note to tease Rina about it another time.

“It is! Thanks again for the invite,” you say to Mingyu.

“Don’t mention it,” he flicks his hand, “The football and cheer team have always had a good bond. Oh, and thanks for extending my invite.”

Mingyu tilts his head to the side, and you turn to see Jimin and Taehyung playing against Hoseok and Seokjin in a game of beer pong. Your eyes wander behind Jimin, landing on Jungkook braced against the wall, drink in hand.

When you set your sights on him, your knees almost give out. He looks hot—somehow hotter than usual. He is wearing his signature baggy jeans and black chunky combat boots; his black leather jacket, unzipped to display how his fitted white shirt hugs his firm body that sets you off, and his fingers, clad with several silver rings, send you right over the edge.

Beside him stands Jess, who is without her two sidekicks for the first time. She is leaning into him, whispering in his ear, and you get a sense of Deja Vu; images of them from that night at the bar flash through your mind, but you shake them out.

Jungkook said he didn’t have plans with her. She’s here because Mingyu invited her to the party. Jungkook wouldn’t lie to you—or at least he has no reason to. If they had plans to hang out together, he would have just said so.

Last time, your disappointment held you back from interfering, but this time, you have the warmth and courage of alcohol coursing through your veins. So, with a confident stride, you head in their direction.

“Prez!” a very tipsy Jimin stops you, tackling you into an embrace.

“Hey, Chimchim,” you pat his back.

He pulls back, but his hands remain on your shoulders, clutching them, “Thank you for reminding me about this party, Prez. This is amazing! You are the best! Forget president! You are officially the queen of the fan club,” he slurs.

“Man, how are you already this far gone?” Cherry walks over.

“Cher!”

He tackles her next, swaying their bodies back and forth. Now free from the shackles that are Jimin, you spin around and find your target with his eyes already on you. You don’t let it sway you.

You exhale sharply, then force yourself to meet his gaze. And then, with zero hesitation,

“Hi, Jess,” you give her the briefest of glances, then settle on Jungkook, “Hi, Jungkookie, you look handsome!” you run your hand down one side of his jacket along the zipper.

His eyes widen in shock, and his lips part, but no words come out due to Jess’s interruption.

“Y/N, I see you made it. Jungkook and I were talking about you and your little mix-up earlier. We cleared it up, though; no need to worry.”

She takes a small, almost inconspicuous step forward, her body between you and Jungkook’s. She squeezes your elbow in faux cordiality, and you’re left puzzled.

“Mix-up? What do you mean?”

“At practice today, you misunderstood when I said I wanted to message Jungkook about hanging out at AoB’s next show, for me saying he and I had plans for tonight.”

Now, as much as you may be a bit forgetful, there is no way you mistook how she went on about having plans with Jungkook tonight. She made it clear right when Mingyu mentioned the party.

“No, I didn’t, you said—”

“It’s okay; I understand how you could get confused.”

Jungkook is still looking at you from behind Jess with an expression you can’t determine. Being blamed for something untrue this blatantly with your crush watching would typically embarrass you, but being portrayed as a liar bothers you.

“That’s not what happened, you said—”

“Little Picasso, it looks like you need a refill. Let’s get you one, come on,” Namjoon suddenly comes behind you.

He takes you by the shoulders and guides you to the kitchen; you don’t have time to grasp what’s happening.

Once at the array of bottles, Namjoon begins mixing you a drink. While pouring the liquid into a new red plastic cup, he speaks.

“You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

“Hmm?” you watch him.

“Jess. She’s trying to get a rise out of you, don’t let her.”

“But what she said wasn’t true. I heard her. I would never lie to Jungkookie,” you fret.

There’s a pause as he finishes mixing your drink and hands it to you. He sighs, “People like you are better off staying clear of people like Jess, who provoke others to make themselves feel superior. She’s the kind who will always take the opportunity to walk all over you if you let her.”

“We’re on the same team; I can’t avoid being around her. And she’s the cheer captain, so I can’t be rude to her.”

“I can respect that,” he nods with a sympathetic smile, “But that doesn’t mean you should let yourself get belittled.”

You lower your head, swishing around the drink in your cup.

“She’s patronizing because she feels threatened by you.”

“I never did anything to her,” you pout.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” he mulls his words, “Evny comes out without you having to incite it. From what I heard from Cherry, you are an equally talented cheerleader as she is, dare I say more. Among your other great qualities, you also seem to be gaining attention in other areas where she seems to fall short,” he smirks after his statement.

Namjoon looks over at Jungkook and Jess, the latter failing to capture the interest of the man beside her despite her forceful attempts. With your cup covering your view from taking a sip of your drink, Namjoon averts his eyes before you notice.

“Huh?” you wonder what other areas you’re exceeding Jess in.

He shakes his head, bypassing you, and continues.

“There aren’t many people like you, Y/N. You’re a very positive person, and the world needs that. Plenty of things and people will try to test how brightly your light shines but never dim it.”

His words wrap around you like a hug, a much-needed hug. A comfort you didn’t realize you needed till now.

“Thanks, Joonbug,” you smile, but a frown soon takes place, “I don’t like this, though. I don’t care if she doesn’t like me, but I don’t want her to make Jungkookie not like me too.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Jungkook isn’t someone easily deceived; I wouldn’t worry about that,” Namjoon pats your shoulder reassuringly.

☾☀︎

After your talk with Namjoon, Cherry came looking for you with Yoongi in tow, and Cherry, ever the encourager, kept the drinks flowing. One shot became two, and two became seven. You stopped counting drinks during several rounds of beer pong against Hoseok and Taehyung.

How Jimin got cut off by Seokjin but not you two is beyond you.

Now you and she have some concoction of a cocktail in hand as you dance—or try to dance in your heels to the EDM music blasting through the speakers.

After the current song ends, you and Cherry crash down onto the sofa, out of breath and plastered. The party is still in full swing around you. You two chat and giggle about insignificant topics for a while; your sense of time has long gone. There’s a peaceful lull in between when you are both sitting there with your head resting on her shoulder, no talking, just being. Your lingering thoughts break through the pause.

“Cher, do you think I’m naive?”

“Hmm? Where did that come from?”

“Just—” you shrug, “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

The words pierce through the noise of the party; you wince, deflating emotionally and physically. You slouch deeper into the sofa. Cherry doesn’t seem to catch on to the effect of her words, yet she doesn’t stop there.

“You have this… innocence about you. A pureness as if you have been untainted by the world. It makes me want to shield you from it.”

“You don’t think I’m… useless?”

Cherry cranes her neck to look down at you so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. Her eyes widen.

“No! Why would you ask that? Did someone call you useless?” she sits up straight.

You pull her back to sit comfortably and place your head back on her shoulder.

“No. Not recently, anyway; I have been called that before. I was just curious what you think.”

Cherry rests her head against yours.

“Do you think you’re useless?” she asks gently.

You shake your head, “There was a time I did; someone I thought loved me made me doubt myself. I know other people’s opinions don’t matter. But I still care about how the people that matter to me think of me, and you matter to me.”

“I think you are naive, but not in the typical sense. You are one of the wisest people I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something when you know someone like Namjoon,” you both chuckle at that.

Cherry reaches for your hand and holds it.

“It takes a certain kind of person to walk through life so optimistic and unaffected by—well, by life.”

You inflate; your self-esteem is experiencing a huge boost tonight.

“You matter to me too,” she squeezes your hand, “I have always been a protective person, but the guys have always been around to look out for me. Since I’m an only child, I’ve always considered them family, so it’s nice that I have a sister to look out for now.”

The sentimental bubble bursts when Yoongi emerges, smirking down at your bodies on the couch as if dumped there.

“There’s my little boozer,” Yoongi pinches Cherry’s cheek with a grin on his face like a Cheshire cat.

She swats away his hand, and he laughs.

“You ready to head out? I should get you home before your mom sends the cops after me,” he tilts his head towards the front door.

Cherry groans, tossing her head back against the couch.

“Going home means moving. I don’t know if I can manage that,” her eyes are shut while she speaks.

“Again, with the dramatics,” Yoongi grabs her hands and pulls her up with a soft grunt.

“You too, kid. Let’s go,” he reaches out and pulls you up.

The three of you walk to the door, you and Cherry stumbling, Yoongi trying to make sure neither of you falls on your face. When you see Yoongi’s shielding hand on Cherry’s lower back, you remember Jungkook. You were having so much fun in your tipsy state you didn’t realize you hadn’t seen him since you tried talking to him earlier when Jess tried embarrassing you.

The cool night air washes over you; the contrast to the inside instant. The crisp breeze kisses your hot skin, and a shiver runs down your spine as you step onto the porch. The muffled music and laughter echoed from inside; you shut your eyes and inhale deeply to try and sober up with fresh air, but instead, breathe in the scent of cigarette smoke.

You have no time to relax when Yoongi’s low voice cuts through the quiet night air.

“Oh, sick, you’re here. I need to take Cher home, so make sure Y/N gets home,” Yoongi tells someone.

“Why me? Get one of the guys to take her.”

You open your eyes, and there on the porch is Jungkook, smoking a cigarette. The smoke curls up into the air as he holds it near his face, halting his movements at Yoongi’s order.

“Jimin and Tae are even more wasted than these two, believe it or not,” he refers to his girlfriend and you, “So Seokjin has his hands full with them. And I have no idea where Hoseok and Namjoon are.”

“Throw up,” you mumble.

Jungkook and Yoongi both quickly look at you with startled expressions.

“Hobi went to throw up. Joonbug is with him,” you drawl, clarifying.

“There you go, that’s why you,” Yoongi claps Jungkook on the shoulder.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll rip one of those piercings out of your face, Jeon,” Cherry rounds Yoongi and stands chest to chest with Jungkook poking at his chest threateningly.

Cherry hugs you goodbye, and the couple are off before Jungkook can make any more protests.

Just like that, you are left alone with the guy you have been enthralled with since you met him. The thumping bass and the joyful murmurs are the only sounds between you and Jungkook as you both stand there in painful silence.

You keep your gaze locked on the street, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating presence beside you.

Jungkook leans against the railing like he has nothing better to do, smoking the remainder of his cigarette, his gaze fixed in the distance on the night sky. You sigh, side-eyeing him as you shift, restless with your arms crossed. You try to remain calm, but inside, you are as excited as ever, pondering how to use this chance to your advantage.

He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other interaction, so you leave him immersed in his thoughts.

What makes this situation a little more nerve-wracking is that you know you are not really in his good books. Yet, you can’t miss out on this moment with him because being alone like this won’t happen again so smoothly. He dismisses you whenever he gets the chance or keeps his engagement short and curt when he does pay you attention.

A beat of silence later, you ask cautiously, “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” for the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “Until I got stuck chaperoning,” he snarks.

“There isn’t always gonna be someone around to babysit you and come to your defence.”

His sharp response had felt like a slap. Your drunken pride steps in, “You don’t have to. I can take care of myself,” you meekly contest.

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time.

Instead, he merely shifts his gaze from you to the empty, streetlight-lit road ahead before he begins to move. He drops the butt of his cigarette, putting it out with the toe of his boot, then stomps down the steps as he takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You follow immediately, walking by his side until he says, “I’m ordering an Uber.”

Your chest tightens, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

It all flashes before you in a millisecond.

Tires screeching. Glass shattering. Metal crunching. Blood. Pain. Fear.

“No!” you react instinctively and grab his arm, stopping him.

When you meet his eyes, Jungkook eyebrows furrow. Surprised and annoyed, he sends you an intense, fiery glare.

“I can’t take an Uber,” you shake your head frantically.

“Do you expect me to fly us there?” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your hold.

Your mouth opens and closes, but your throat seals shut. What possible defence could you offer?

Your nails carved crescents into your palms as you clenched your fists, your eyes tightly shut, “I-I just can’t ride in an Uber,” you force out quietly, ashamed; your voice is barely audible. A single tear slips down your cheek before you hurriedly wipe it away

Jungkook hears your voice crack and your sniffle. His scowl falters for a split second as he takes in your appearance—your teary eyes, chest rising and falling far too quickly, hands trembling at your sides. You are practically hyperventilating.

“Jesus…” he wavers, staring at your face, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes flicking around awkwardly, “You don’t have to cry about it.”

He shifts uncomfortably; abruptly, he walks away, his back now to you. You are left standing there like an abandoned kitten. He calls over his shoulder without even looking at you,

“You gonna stand there and sulk all night? Are you coming or not?”

His voice is cold and detached—as if he’s doing this out of obligation rather than concern.

Your eyes narrow, and your lips press into a thin line.

“Not,” you frown.

Jungkook freezes, leans his head back, looks up at the stars and groans, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. He lets out a slow breath before turning to you to speak again,

“What?”

You shake your head, cross your arms in protest, and pout, “I don’t want to go with you if you’re going to be a grumpy pants.”

He looks genuinely perplexed. As if you have just spoken in tongues.

“Grumpy pan—Are you a child?“

You remain silent, fixed in your spot. Feet planted on the sidewalk, arms crossed, as you and Jungkook engage in a staring contest.

Jungkook rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, cocks his pierced eyebrow. He squints his eyes at you, slipping his hands into his front pockets, “And how exactly do you plan on getting home then?“

“By myself,“ your chin lifts defiantly.

“By walking there. The same route I have to walk. Because we’re neighbours,” he deadpans.

Oh. Right. Damn, you didn’t think that through. You try to conjure up your next comeback to counter.

“Do you always have to be this difficult?” he exasperates.

“Hmph!” you stomp your foot, turning away from him to face the road.

Jungkook, for a brief moment, can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jungkook mutters his curse to himself between gritted teeth, exhaling a long aggravated breath before returning to your side.

“Alright.”

You ignore him.

Jungkook places a hand on your upper arm, using it to have you face him. The warmth of his touch vanishes just as quickly as it came.

“Look, let’s just walk home. I won’t say anything,” Jungkook holds his hands up in surrender.

You peek at him through your lashes, “You won’t be a meany? You’ll be nice?”

“I won’t be mean,” Jungkook replies, disregarding the second part of what you said.

“And…” You bite your lip, trying not to smile. Your eyes are innocent, but your tone is playful when you tiptoe, lean in a little, hesitantly, and say, “We can stop to buy a lollipop on the way?”

Jungkook, holding onto his last bit of strength, doesn’t say anything. He breathes through his nose, pressing his lips together and responding with a stiff nod.

Like a flip of a switch, your mood brightens so fast that Jungkook flinches slightly.

“Yay! Okay, let’s go,” you cheer and brush past him.

Jungkook is stunned as he watches you head off, swaying your hips.

“Come on, Jungkookie!” you yell back to him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

That damn name.

Jungkook walks after you, wanting to hurry and get you home as fast as possible so he can get away from you just as fast.

He is left thinking about how he has a feeling that wasn’t his last hurdle of the night.

☾☀︎

Jungkook, true to his word, is on his best behaviour. But that is because he doesn’t utter a word on the walk to the convenience store. Even when your heel snags on the sidewalk and you lose footing, he catches you by the elbow with a displeased grunt and proceeds on.

“Are you seriously going to stay silent the whole way?” you wonder.

Silence.

Your shoulders brush his as you walk, your steps in sync with his, although yours are more clumsy.

“I know you said you won’t say anything, but it feels like I’m walking with a ghost,” you mope.

Silence.

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands, “Maybe you are a ghost,” you raise a hand to poke at his bicep.

Is he made out of stone or something? His arm is rock solid, like a statue. Having the perfect view of Jungkook’s profile, he does look like an ancient Greek sculpture, with chiselled features and sharp, distinct edges that Adonis would envy. With the moonlight breaking through his hair, you marvel at his beauty.

Jungkook tuts and throws you a disapproving glare.

“Didn’t you want me not to be mean?“ he gruffs.

You gasp again dramatically, “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it, he speaks,” you joke.

The thought flashes through Jungkook’s mind. With your wide, happy smile, your hands cupping your cheeks. How you look up at him with big eyes, sparkling under the glow of the night—it’s almost… cute.

He shakes his head, this time not at you but to force the thought out of his mind before it accidentally spirals into something worse.

“We agreed on just walking home—”

“And to stop and get a lolly,” you add, correcting him.

“Yeah. Whatever. My point is I didn’t agree on any conversation.”

“But it’s boring walking in silence. Plus, you said you’d be nice,” you whine.

“I said I wouldn’t be mean.”

“Well, isn’t ignoring me pretty mean?”

But he won’t answer. He only makes a disapproving sound.

“I’m so nice to you. I don’t know why you ignore me all the time. I wish you liked me as much as I like you. Jess also doesn’t like me, so you aren’t the only one. What she said wasn’t true, by the way,” you turn to face him while walking, “I know what I heard. I would never lie to you, Jungkookie. Joonbug said you wouldn’t believe her, but I still wanted to tell you myself,” you ramble on, filling the silence.

“Jeez. How drunk are you?”

“Only a little,” you singsong, pinching your index finger and thumb together, leaving a tiny gap in between.

“But I got you to talk to me,” you smile, bumping your shoulder into his arm.

He stares at you and tilts his head slightly, studying you. Then, he lets out this half-laugh, half-disbelieving breath.

You don’t look away. Jungkook’s warm stare seeps into your skin, grounding you in a way that feels too easy.

The pure gaze you give him throws Jungkook off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat endearing.

Jungkook’s stomach lurches. He snaps his head forward and coughs awkwardly into his fist.

Woah. Stop. What is with him tonight? How drunk is he?

You give in to Jungkook’s silence this time, sighing and letting him sink into his thoughts.

The convenience store’s sign comes into view, flashing in the short distance.

“Jess’s words hold no merit to me. Whether what she says is true or not doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Because I don’t care about her,” Jungkook’s tone is flat, emotionless, as if he’s simply stating a fact.

The convenience store’s sign comes into view, glowing in the near distance.

“The same goes for you,” Jungkook says casually before turning to enter the shop, his response so abrupt that it catches you off guard.

↬ THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ boo 1k block limit!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! it continues where this leaves off and begins with a new scene <3

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xoxochb · 1 month ago

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“percy.”

“hmm?”

“what are you doing?”

“I,” percy begins, reaching over to his bedside table and bringing his shark lego to his lap. “have to finish building my shark.”

not even ten minutes ago he was talking you through your orgasm and now he’s constructing his lego.

“seriously?”

“oh.” percy smiles and looks over at you, small bag of legos in hand outstretched for you to take. “here. you can help.”

you roll your eyes with a similar expression, contagious on percy’s end. “I hope you know that you’re ridiculous.” you open the bag and begin to construct the corals that go along with the set.

“I do. I also enjoy building legos with my betrothed.”

“I have no comment to that.” you laugh silently and hand the two corals to percy who works to build the left fin.

you take the empty packaging and toss it onto your own nightstand to deal with whenever you arise from the bed. which, quite frankly, probably will not be until midday tomorrow.

with percy working intently with his legos, you curl back into his side like you had been before he moved; arms looped around his bicep, legs entwined.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder, watching his hands as they handle the small plastic pieces. the same fingers he’d had running over your bare skin only moments ago.

“how much more is left?”

“uhhhh…” percy pauses for a moment and scans through the remaining pages. “not that much. I think I only have this last fin and then the stand.”

“this one was quick.”

“really? we were at it for an hour and a half.”

you scowl and pinch his arm, making him yelp. “you know what I meant.”

“do I?”

“percy.” you lift your head to squint up at him. he looks back down with a boyish grin.

“sweet girl.” while you’re angled as such, percy presses a kiss to your forehead. “my sweet girl.” another kiss. “my betrothed.”

“shut up,” you remove an arm from his bicep to wipe off his kisses.

unsurprisingly, he begins to pepper more over your face in response to that. it only elicits laughs from you, breaking your previous scolding demeanor.

“there’s my sweet girl.”

“do you realize— mphm— that— mhmm— your germs are going go be all over me!”

“sweet girl.” percy backs away with a smirk, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to stare into his. “less than fifteen minutes ago my tongue was inside of you.”

oh how you only wish you could turn away before the red hue painted your cheeks. “I hate you.”

“that’s my sweet girl. sweetest there ever was.”

— based on this post from earlier ♡

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe

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iconbyunghun · 4 months ago

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Drive Me Home

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: A simple ride home takes an unexpected turn when tension and desire get the best of you, especially when the man driving is your best friend's father.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (early 20s/50s), car sex, unsafe sex, creampie, slight degrading.

Word count: 3.1 k

a/n: I don’t know where all these words came from; this was supposed to be short. uh, I hope you enjoy it!

The gentle breeze coming through the car window tousled a few strands of your hair. With a mischievous smile on your lips, you glanced sideways at the man who had just settled into the driver’s seat.

Hwang In-ho, your best friend’s father, was the one responsible for driving you home after the party you and his daughter had organized with some university friends. You were a little tipsy, and your friend had suggested that her father take you home in his car. Despite your attempts to convince her that you could just call a taxi, her concern made you give in.

It wasn’t the first time he had driven you home, so he already knew your address. Of course, on previous occasions, his daughter had always been present.

He couldn’t help but regret agreeing to let them throw a party at his house—by morning, he’d have to clean everything up and take inventory of all the broken glasses and other damaged things. He sighed, resigned. That would be a problem for later. Right now, his main concern was you, alternating between watching the road and stealing glances at him—furtive, yet not at all discreet.

“Won’t your parents say anything about you coming home at this hour… and drunk?” he asked, trying to break the ice.

“My parents are traveling, and I’m not drunk,” you replied, pretending to be offended, though the slight slur in your words made him chuckle.

“Riiight, not drunk at all,” he teased, playfully mimicking your tone. You couldn’t help but laugh. His charisma was your weakness—that, and the fact that he looked amazing for a man in his fifties.

“Hm, if your parents aren’t home, you could’ve stayed over,” he added.

“Yeah, I could have, but I didn’t want to impose,” you half-lied. “Besides, I also didn’t want to be stuck cleaning up the post-party mess on a Sunday morning.” You shrugged.

“Of course, let the old man do all the cleaning,” he said, feigning irritation.

“Old?” You looked at him, this time more intently. His hair was slightly tousled, and the sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms, where veins ran down to his large, masculine hands, firmly gripping the steering wheel. For a brief moment, you imagined what it would feel like to have them on your body.

He glanced at you for just a couple of seconds. The city lights reflected on your face—not too bright, but enough to highlight the sparkle in your eyes as you observed him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. He wondered if it was the alcohol that had you looking at him like that.

“I guess I am a little old,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of resignation.

He turned his attention back to the road, hoping you’d do the same and stop scrutinizing him. But this time, you didn’t follow his lead. Instead, you shifted in your seat, curling your legs up and hugging your knees against your chest. The movement caused the hem of your dress to slide up past your knees, so you pressed your legs together, trying not to reveal too much… at least not yet.

From your new position, your entire focus was on him—concentrated on driving, oblivious (or perhaps not so much) to the way you were watching him.

“Well, you look better than any guy I know,” you blurted out without a filter, uninhibited—whether by the alcohol, the night… or by him.

He let out a low chuckle, though he seemed slightly uncomfortable as he stopped at a red light. Your comment had caught him off guard.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. That was the truth,” you said with a playful smile. “Guys my age are all idiots.”

“I suppose you have plenty of those idiots chasing after you,” he said, turning to gauge your reaction.

“There’s always a few,” you paused, debating whether to say what was on your mind. “But… I prefer older men.”

Your eyes locked onto his just as you bit your lower lip slightly, under his intense gaze—a gesture both casual and deliberate.

In-ho smiled, the slight curve of his lips confirming that he knew exactly where you were going with this. Of course, he wasn’t a naive man. At his age, he could easily recognize blatant flirting, and you were making it painfully obvious.

There had been too many signs he had been trying to ignore—those short dresses that always seemed purposely chosen whenever you visited, the kisses that landed dangerously close to his lips when you greeted him, the hugs that lasted a little too long, your chest pressing against his. The way you always found an excuse to brush against him, with a sweetness that pretended to be innocent… but neither of you truly believed that.

He had always tried to keep his composure, to act with the restraint expected of someone his age. After all, you were just a reckless young girl with raging hormones. And he, despite having been divorced for over two years, had neither the time nor the patience to date again—especially not someone so young.

At least, that was what he had always told himself. But this time, the situation felt different. There was something about the contrast between the rosy tint on your cheeks and your slightly tousled hair, the way you looked at him with that almost pleading gaze. You were completely alone, and the darkness of the night made everything feel more intimate.

His eyes traced down your exposed legs to your crimson heels. Under any other circumstances, he would have scolded you for dirtying his car seat. But not now… not when you were so dangerously close that it would only take him a few seconds to slide his hands over your thighs and take you as he pleased. Oh, just the thought sent an electric pulse straight to his cock.

“You’re a bold little thing, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as his gaze returned to your face. Something in his expression had changed.

“Hmm, well, you don’t seem to mind. Or do you?” you shot back almost instantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh no, it doesn’t, sweetheart."

The way he said that pet name sent a flutter through your stomach. You briefly glanced at the traffic light, which had already turned green, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to move. Not that it mattered—at this hour, the street was completely deserted.

Before you could react or come up with a witty response, he acted first. With unsettling ease—or maybe simply because you didn’t resist—he took your right hand and, with a gentle tug, pulled you toward him. The sudden closeness made you lower your legs back onto the car floor, seeking stability. His face was now dangerously close to yours.

Before you could process it, he guided your hand with determination straight to his crotch.

"Do you want to see just how much I like that little tease of yours?" he added in a deep voice.

A sharp breath escaped your lips as you felt how hard he was and how his much larger hand pressed over yours, keeping it firmly against his arousal.

Shit. If this was some kind of alcohol-induced dream, you hoped you’d never wake up.

The look of surprise on your face only seemed to amuse him more. His gaze dropped to your lips, and without a second more of hesitation, he closed the distance between you. His hands slid up to your face, ensuring you followed his pace. Within seconds, his tongue parted your lips, exploring your mouth with restrained hunger.

A shiver ran down your spine as you searched for something to hold onto, something to steady yourself. With your free hand, you tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently at a few strands.

His reaction was immediate—a soft gasp, barely a whisper against your lips, his body shuddering under your touch—clumsy, yet eager—both in his hair and over his straining length.

When the need for air became unbearable, you broke apart.

The sight of your tousled hair, your heavy breathing, and your swollen, glistening lips—slick with both your saliva and his—completely shattered the last threads of his self-restraint.

"Come here," he demanded.

Adjusting his position, he unbuckled his seatbelt and reclined his seat back, making enough room for you to kneel between his legs.

You settled yourself as best you could, your face just inches away from his erection, still concealed beneath his pants but under the weight of his intense gaze.

"This is what you wanted so badly, isn’t it?" he murmured. "To be on your knees, ready to suck my fucking cock?"

The sheer filth of his words only made the fire inside you burn hotter.

You nodded clumsily, placing your hands on his thighs.

"Good. If you’re going to act like a little slut, you’d better take responsibility for it."

Without waiting for an answer, his hands went straight to his belt, swiftly undoing it. Your hands moved on instinct, reaching for the button of his jeans. He let you take over, pulling his hands back as you continued.

Once unbuttoned, you slowly unzipped his jeans, dragging it out in a torturous way—for him, at least. He helped by lifting his hips slightly, and soon, his jeans were pooled around his ankles.

In front of you, his hard length strained against the fabric of his gray boxers, a small damp spot visible where the tip pressed against the material. You hadn't been wrong to fantasize about its impressive size. Eager for more, you ran your tongue over it through the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband, carefully freeing him.

He smirked at the expression of raw desire on your face, a flicker of pride mixing with arousal. The thought of someone so much younger, eager to take him in her mouth, sent a spark of heat through him.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you stroked him slowly, feeling his heat and velvety texture. Finally, your lips parted, and as you took him into your mouth, a shudder ran through you. The salty taste of his skin flooded your senses, making your core tighten with anticipation. You took him as deep as your throat allowed, swirling your tongue around him and sucking gently as you pulled back. Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on the sensation—his heavy breathing, the way his fingers slid into your hair, guiding your movements.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough with need. His grip tightened as he tugged your hair, pulling you back just enough to leave only the tip resting on your tongue. Your tear-brimmed eyes met his, a sinful mix of pleasure and submission. The sight alone nearly undid him.

The car's interior felt suffocating, thick with heat and tension. Fogged windows bore witness to the electricity crackling between you.

With a firm pull, he shifted you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. The moment you settled, his mouth claimed yours again, devouring you with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His tongue moved with purpose, teasing, demanding, leaving you breathless beneath him.

His hands wasted no time finding the hem of your dress, sliding it upward, exposing more of your heated skin beneath his eager touch. He pulled you closer, his grip possessive, his fingertips digging into your flesh—enough to ensure you'd still feel him tomorrow.

His lips broke from yours, trailing lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His teeth grazed your skin before his lips soothed the sting, marking you in ways you knew would linger long after this night.

"I-I need you…" you whimpered, feeling the firm press of his arousal against the softness of your inner thighs.

A shaky breath left him before his hands found the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the delicate fabric, stretching it, teasing you with just enough friction to make you squirm. A wicked grin tugged at his lips before he gave a sharp tug, tearing the fabric effortlessly, discarding it without a second thought.

Gripping himself, he lined his aching length up with your entrance. His gaze lifted to yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the way your eyes silently pleaded for more.

"Be a good girl and ask me nicely," he demanded, savoring your anticipation as he teased your entrance, using your own arousal to lubricate himself.

"Fuck me... please," you begged, moving impatiently in search of more friction.

With a satisfied smile, he aligned himself before slowly pushing in to the hilt, a deep, guttural moan escaping his throat. His large hands gripped your hips, kneading your flesh.

"I-In-ho... fuck, it's... so big," you squealed, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, lost in the sensation of his length stretching you. "It feels so good."

He remained still for a few seconds, savoring the way you clenched around him, the warm wetness enveloping him so perfectly that, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you over and over again.

When he finally began to move, he did so with slow, deep thrusts, letting your body take him in completely. Your slickness made everything easier, making him crave more of your tight pussy. His pace quickened—deeper, harder, more of your breathless moans filling the air.

Ragged groans escaped his throat as he pressed his head against the backrest of the seat. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had sex, and the sensation of your walls gripping him, your nails digging into his skin, and the desperate, needy whimpers spilling from your lips right next to his ear had him on the verge of madness.

At that moment, nothing else existed—just the two of you, the tension, the relentless collision of your bodies, the frantic heartbeat that kept you both trapped in the moment.

And when everything finally reached its peak, your lips found each other in desperation. Your orgasm hit first, overwhelming, your hips moving on their own as you ground down on him, desperate for more. The way your pussy clenched and pulsed around him sent him over the edge. He gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming erratic, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling his release as your walls throbbed around him, milking every last drop.

You collapsed against his chest, pressing your head over his racing heartbeat, both of you still struggling to catch your breath.

A few seconds passed before you felt his arms wrap around you.

“Fuck,” he exhaled in a breathy sigh. The haze of lust slowly began to lift from his mind, and reality started to set in. “My daughter can’t find out about this,” he muttered. His voice was still heavy with exhaustion, lacking the sharpness to sound truly serious.

You slowly opened your eyes and pulled back slightly to look at him.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoffed, giving his chest a playful slap. How could that be the first thing on his mind after the way he just fucked you? “Of course she won’t find out.” You rolled your eyes, and he fell silent.

The air inside the car was still thick, heavy with the scent of sex, a lingering reminder of what had just transpired. Your breathing had steadied, but the heat between you had yet to fully dissipate.

You felt him softening inside you and shifted just enough for him to adjust his boxers and pants. You smoothed out your dress with deliberate slowness, running your hands over the fabric in a way that was almost teasing. In-ho averted his gaze, turning toward the window as he fastened his belt, but his attempt at indifference failed—his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to your chest before he could stop himself.

“You owe me a new pair of panties,” you remarked with a mischievous smile, rocking your hips slightly on his lap.

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his dark eyes tracing your face. You were absolutely stunning.

“Didn’t seem to bother you a few minutes ago.”

His jaw tightened, as if holding back the words he really wanted to say.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before slipping back into the passenger seat. He wasn’t sure whether to take it as an affectionate gesture or as pure mockery.

The rest of the drive was quiet—but not in an uncomfortable way. The tension still lingered in the air. When he finally parked in front of your house, you made no immediate move to leave. Instead, he was the first to open his door.

“You don’t have to walk me to the entrance.”

“I know,” he replied, stepping out and circling the car.

He opened the door for you—a gentlemanly gesture that starkly contrasted how he had handled you just minutes ago. As you stood, you felt his eyes briefly rake over your figure. It was involuntary, but you noticed. And you loved it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, leaning casually against your front door with a playful smile.

“Thanks for…” In-ho paused, seeming to reconsider his words. “…Nothing. I’m not saying anything else.”

You laughed softly, tapping a finger against your lips in mock contemplation.

“You know, you could come in for a bit,” you suggested casually, pretending to search for your keys in your bag. “It’s late. We could have a drink.”

He looked at you with a mix of disbelief and warning, as if you were temptation itself standing before him.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, his voice low.

You stepped closer, closing the space between you.

“I think I can handle a little more,” you whispered, resting your hands against his chest, tilting your head slightly.

Silence stretched between you until In-ho let out a sigh—part surrender, part anticipation.

“Do you have whiskey?”

You bit your lip, holding back a victorious smile as you turned to unlock the door.

“You’ll have to come inside to find out.”

In-ho followed, a nearly imperceptible smile playing at his lips. This time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing. That would come tomorrow, when the weight of the night could no longer hide the guilt of his actions.

#hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho #in ho x reader #hwang inho x you #front man squid game #squid game #squid game imagine #lee byung hun #lee byung hun imagine #lee byung hun x reader #lee byung hun x you #squid game in ho #smut #Reminder that English is not my first language #so I apologize for any writing mistakes.

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miabebe · 8 months ago

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Camp Seventeen: Chapter 3

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (Reader x Jihoon for this Ch)

Word count - 16K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up! Warnings below the cut

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As the days in camp seventeen unfold the many burdens you had tucked away in your heart, you dive into the sorrows you had presumably left behind. Thankfully (or not) a musical moment and a menacing monster serve as unforeseen distractions.

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! This chapter is a bit heavy, the plot is thickening so please do take your time with it - I promise things will make sense eventually!

Special thanks to @monamipencil! Your comments made my day Lola <3

Warnings - Handjob, fingering, music trance(?), stripping, masturbation (f), unprotected sex (no glove, not love), riding, creampie, making out

“Chief.” Soonyoung took a worried step forward, hand slipping out from yours. “Is everything okay?”

“If you’re here it's either not serious enough or it's too serious.” Minghao frowned at Seungcheol, crossing his arms. “My guess is the former.”

“The camp is under attack.” Seungcheol sighed, running his hands through his hair like he was embarrassed. “Of….”

“Of what?”

“O-of geese.”

“Geese??” Soonyoung looked at him stupidly. “Like plural of goose, geese?”

“What other kind of geese do you know, you dumbass.” Seungcheol rolled his eyes.

“I don't know. The kind of geese I know don’t attack human establishments??”

“It’s obviously some elaborate prank by the children of Nemesis, considering it's their companion.” Muttering, Seungcheol stuffed his hand in his pockets. “Those winged brats are just wreaking havoc everywhere - they’ve broken all of the farm's tools, they’ve made a mess of the dining hall, they’ve shat all over the houses-” Both boys groaned. “-it's a catastrophe.”

“Are we sure it’s not Jeonghan?” Soonyoung narrowed his eyes. “We all know how much he enjoys stuff like this….”

“Jeonghan also loves to watch the consequences of his very well planned antics.” Seungcheol scoffed. “And he’s not at camp - he said he was going to the city for….. something, I don’t know but no, it’s not him.”

“If it's not him then how did these birds enter camp at night?” Minghao raised his eyebrows confused. “They shouldn’t have been able to pass Wonwoo’s nighttime defenses.”

“He says they might have sneaked in during the shift handover. Apparently Hansol and the hounds were the only ones patrolling when he was settling up because Jihoon was busy elsewhere.” Seungcheol looked straight at you, almost accusatorily.

What the hell, how was this your fault?

“There’s no need to look at her like that.” Minghao took a step forward, half covering you behind his frame. “You should talk to Jihoon about being more responsible with his time.”

“That’s not the point now.” Watching both men glaring at each other, Soonyoung tried to ease the tension. “We should be discussing how we can get rid of those menaces.”

“We've been trying.” Seungcheol groaned. “But neither Jun nor Hansol are able to communicate with them for some reason. It seems like they are some weird mix of domestic and wild.”

“That's strange.” Minghao frowned, lost in thought.

“Something does seem off.” Soonyoung agreed. “Not only have they breached Wonwoo's protection but they're also some sort of unheard half breeds? Two anomalies cannot be a coincidence.”

“Moreover, it's not like the children of Nemesis to prank.” Minghao frowned, staring at the ground. “Pettiness isn't their nature.”

“What other reason could they have to do this?” Seungcheol crossed his arms, muscles tense. “Revenge?”

“Maybe, or it might not even be them.” Sooonyoung looked lost in thought. “Seungkwan and I will speak around with our contacts. I’m sure we can find out something.”

Seungcheol nodded, “In the meantime we need to clear them from camp premises before they cause more destruction.”

“Then why aren't you at camp doing that chief?” Minghao narrowed his eyes at the leader. “Why is it that you're here, like there's more important things to worry about?”

You didn’t have to look to tell that Minghao was glancing at you over his shoulder.

Soonyoung didn't seem to think his presence was suspicious. “He's the Son of Zeus, Hao. Geese and him don't really go well together.”

You vaguely recalled Jihoon telling you something in the Iliad about Zeus, geese and the Helen of Troy.

“Is that it?” Minghao raised his eyebrow amused. “Big ol’ chief afraid of some feathered friends?”

“I’m here for Soonyoung.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth. “And I asked for the message of the attack to be passed to him alone.”

Your eyes followed Soonyoung’s which focused on the group huddled in the corner - a bunch of the most beautiful people you had ever seen, snickering away.

“Fucking Aphrodite’s children.” He muttered knowing all three of you were purposely misled here in the interest of creating a scene.“How can I help, chief?”

“We were wondering if your ability to induce intoxication can calm them down so they can be captured?” He looked unsure. “Hansol and Jihoon were ready to shoot down the birds but if this really is a prank, we don’t want to harm their animals and seek trouble with the other camps.”

“Even though this might be their fault?”

“We have enough on our plate this season, Soonyoung.” It was very apparent that Seungcheol was trying his best not to meet your eye. “The last thing we need is more camps to be against us.”

Soonyoung nodded like he understood. “We should leave then but Chan is too drunk to drive-”

“I got here on Wonwoo’s bike.” Seungcheol waved his hand, dismissing the younger one’s concern. “You and I can head back first and the rest of the team…...Minghao, are you sober?”

The man in question nodded.

“Good, gather everyone immediately and make sure they reach camp safely, especially….”

Seungcheol glanced at you, his expression a lot softer but the anger you felt for him had not changed.

“I’m not leaving yet.” You spoke up for the first time, earning the leader’s confused look. “I don't want to.”

“Are you drunk?”

“And what if I am?”

“It’s a Thursday night Y/n, we have training tomorrow morning-”

“Ugh I don’t care.” You grabbed a canned cocktail from the nearby table and popped it open, ignoring Soonyoung’s widened eyes. “Your camp, your rules, whatever the hell you’ve got going on, I don’t care for it Cheol- oh sorry, Seungcheol.” You corrected yourself. “I will leave this party whenever I feel like I want to leave this party.”

“Stop being a child.” Seungcheol was clearly holding back his anger. “There’s enough going on back at camp now for you to-”

“Exactly, go deal with it chief. I’m sure you’ll all fare better without the “weak link” around.”

“Y/n I…” He sighed, watching you drink in big gulps. “First of all, you shouldn’t be drinking that-”

“Can someone please explain to this man that I’m not going to listen to him.”

“Cheol.” Minghao looked pointedly at his leader who was on the verge of snapping. “I’ll bring everyone back to camp safely…. everyone.” He emphasized again. “You and Kwon should get going now.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung nodded before turning to you and grabbing the bottom ends of Minghao’s jacket, aligning them as his voice fell to a whisper. “Y/n, that’s a sex potion too.”

Eyes popping out, you nearly spat out your drink. “I thought it was just the beer??” He nodded. “Yeah, so did everyone, hence the improvisation.” He pulled the zip up, adjusting the jacket on your shoulders. “Take care sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes briefly meeting Seungcheol over Soonyoung’s shoulder. He looked…..indifferent as he stared back.

“Come on Kwon.” He muttered, turning away as the Soonyoung dropped a kiss on your forehead before taking a step back and jogging away to catch up with his leader. You only let out a breath as their figures disappeared in the rain that only got heavier.

Before you knew it, a familiar feeling began licking up your spine, warmth spreading all over your being just like it had earlier. As you slowly turned to Minghao, embarrassed to meet his eye, he straight up shook his head, looking amused.

“Nah uh. Ignorance I can understand but stupidity?” He scoffed. “That's your problem.”

“Minghao-”

“Fight it Y/n.” He grabbed a macaroon, stuffing it in his mouth as he began to walk away from you. “Fight it.”

Unlike Seungcheol’s house, the room you woke up in did not have sunlight streaming in.

Stretching on the large king size bed, you glanced at the now empty space beside you - the man who had given you company last night was no longer there and rightfully so considering it was way past training hours.

Ignoring the pain in your head, you swung your feet off the mattress, glancing out the window. The view is much nicer than Seungcheol’s house - there all you could see were endless trees and hills but here you could see much more of the camp, particularly the common cabin, where everyone was slowly walking towards after hitting the showers. Slightly annoyed and very bothered that yesterday’s events were about to repeat, you sighed, heading down the stairs, making your way to the dining hall. Unlike yesterday though, no one spared a glance at you as you walked in.

You could tell they were all tired - you saw much of the aftermath of the geese ambush as you returned to camp late last night. Considering everything looked normal today, you figured the boys must have spent all night cleaning up before reporting to train in the wee hours of the morning.

“Y/n,” Mingyu’s voice called out to you from behind as you turned to him. “You left this in my workshop last night….”

As you glanced at the jacket in his outstretched hand, the eyes of the other boys flickered between the two of you.

“That's mine.’ Minghao walked up, swooping his garment in his hands as the attention of the room shifted to him. You gulped as he walked away from the hall wordlessly.

You figured you should say something considering the silence was only getting worse, maybe apologise for missing training yet again but before you could say it, Seungcheol got up and walked right past you without saying a word.

Lips parted, you watched him leave once more, refusing to say anything, refusing to listen to you, simply being stubborn like he always was.

Fine, if he was going to be a bitch, so were you. Following his suit, you walked out of the hall in the opposite direction, leaving everyone inside baffled.

The heat of the water just wasn’t comforting.

You knew it was hot, there was steam all around, the tiles of the shower were covered in condensation and designs you had mindlessly traced with your finger. But rather than scalding your skin off, the boiling hot water just felt like a tickle. Annoyed, you turned off the pouring water and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around your body, tucking it in front of your chest. As you ran your hand through your wet hair, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Water was dripping from the wet strands, running down the many darkening, reddish purple marks on your neck and shoulder. You knew they would get darker as days passed but you didn’t expect them to look so bruised up already. Running your finger across them you sighed - last night was a horrible mistake. Sure you were under the influence of some messed up concoction but sleeping with more than one member of the camp was ridiculous to say the least.

What was more burdensome was the idea that maybe there was more than the concoction involved…. Soonyoung had broken up with his girlfriend because of you but neither he nor you were sure about what exactly he felt for you and Minghao? You had noticed he was generally protective of you since you had joined camp and thought it was just because he was nice, but the way he pulled you away from Soonyoung every time the two of you were a little more intimate? That did not seem very ‘general’.

Shutting your eyes, you tried to push the details of last night out of your mind. Thank god you listened to your trainer when he told you to fight it. Otherwise when you asked Mingyu if you could crash at his place in order to avoid Seungcheol and found yourself sharing his king size bed, maybe you would have allowed yourself to make another mistake. You couldn't make another one so soon.

Tightening the grip of your towel, you turned towards the changing rooms, slightly startled by the figure that just walked in.

Wonwoo - also in his towel, hanging low at his waist, moving as silent as a shadow as he walked towards the showers. You should have felt exposed, more conscious, given you were barely dressed, and covered in innumerable hickies but you didn't feel a thing. Because Wonwoo hadn't spared you a glance. He walked past you like he couldn't care less, like you weren't there.

“What is your problem?”

After days of watching this man behave so unnecessarily indifferent to you, you finally spoke up, mind already disturbed by a hundred and one things.

“Why do you always behave like I don't exist?” You crossed your arms, staring him down. “If you're an introvert, I can understand, Hansol doesn't interact with me much either but at least he doesn't behave like I'm invisible, like he can see right through me-”

“Because I can.” His voice left him deep and cold as he turned to you. “Because I can see right through you.”

You scoffed. “What-”

“Because regardless of what you pretend to be in front of others, I can see the real you. I know things about you that you won't even admit to yourself.”

“What-” You emphasised again. “-can you possibly know?.”

“What can I know?” He raised an eyebrow. “I know you're a loner Y/n. You've been one your whole life. Your biological parents never cared enough about you, you don't have any siblings, you've never bothered to make friends, you've always been alone.” He took a step forward. “Even though it was circumstances that drove you to loneliness, you always told yourself that it was your choice, that you wanted to be alone because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to tell yourself that you chose to distance yourself from everyone rather than admit that you were rejected. You knew you would never be accepted. You knew no matter where you were and what you did, you would never fit in. You knew you were a freak.”

Eyes widening, you stared at his nearing figure.

“But now? Now you're finally in a place where you belong. You are finally with your kind but you're still terrified - you're scared that maybe, this isn’t where you’re meant to be either. You're scared that if you accept these people and they find out what you really are, they'll leave you too. They'll break the heart you've been safeguarding for all these years.”

Your heart was quite literally in your mouth.

“That's why you rebel. That's why you call this place 'camp' and never ‘home’. You say things are hard and you're having trouble adjusting but what you're really trying to do is establish that you always are and always will be an outsider - you’re trying to escape the pain that will come when you're finally abandoned. That is why you'll always look for reasons to leave this camp. You'll never let yourself belong, you'll never let yourself become one of those here. So tell me, why do I have to try and bother with your existence when you’re just looking for the first chance to run?”

And somehow, now you could feel the heat all over. It was uncomfortably coursing through your whole body, burning you inside out in a way that made you want to rip out your skin but you already felt so bare, so naked in front of this man.

But before any words could leave you at all, Wonwoo took a step back and then another till he retreated out of sight and into the showers. It was only when he disappeared that you finally let out the breath you were holding.

Maybe the more logical thing to do was to dive into the lake before you hit the showers but here you were, stripping into just your inner wear and jumping into the ice cold waters, desperate to cool yourself off. As you submerged yourself further in the waters, you shut your eyes, submerging into the darkness as well.

The fire burning inside you because of Wonwoo's words was just not dying. For the first time ever, it felt like you had truly looked into a mirror because every single word that came out of that man's mouth was true. So, so true.

And he was right when he said you've never admitted these things even to yourself because you were never really one for introspection. It wasn't like you to explore your thoughts, understand your nature, figure out the intentions of your actions. No, none of that.

You were impulsive. You dived head first into things. You made decisions, then considered the consequences. You were reckless, you lived fearlessly, you lived like no one and nothing else mattered.

Because nothing else did matter.

Ever since you were young, you were on your own. You were not even sure when your mother left you, you had no memories of her and your father? The man who was barely ever present, abandoned you 3 days before your 12th birthday. From then your life had been just yours alone. You worked odd jobs to feed yourself, you worked hard to study, you studied harder to work better and life just went on like that. You didn't have many friends to compensate for the solitude either. Making friends was somehow not very easy for you - how were you supposed to explain the shambles of your life to people? How were you supposed to establish any kind of relationship with anyone when the only ones you ever had, walked out on you?

You were better off alone. You were always better off alone.

That was until one incident turned your entire life upside down.

The days leading up to your arrival at camp are still a blur to you. The flames, the masked men, the court, the meeting of dozens of people - it all still felt like a fever dream. But one moment was still very clear in your memory - the moment when you were standing at the shrine of your mother, in front of her statue.

Goddess of the hearth, home and hospitality they said. The old man beside you was going on and on about her. About her powers, about what a wonderful woman she was, about how delighted you'd be to meet her.

You, though, felt like you were stabbed in the heart you had so carefully locked away.

When the masked men revealed the truth of your parentage, when you learnt about your mother, you let that hope in you grow again. You thought maybe with this big secret finally out you’ll finally get to meet her. That she would finally be a part of your life.

That’s why when they gave you a choice at the swearing in ceremony to join camp seventeen or go back to your mortal life, you chose the former. It was for her, it was to be with your mother, it was to finally feel home.

But as you stared at her statue, offering your respects after the ceremony, it was like someone was drowning you in cold water. Nothing about the expression on her face felt remotely homely, nothing about her felt warm and loving to you - she did not feel like a mother. Rather she felt cold, distant and unwelcoming, just like you imagined the woman who abandoned you would look like.

And with time, you realised your fear was right.

Ever since you arrived at camp, all you did was wait. Wait for just one conversation, maybe an explanation, or even just a glimpse. But there was no indication of her. She didn’t drop by the camp, she didn’t respond to your invocation at the temple, she didn't care at all, just like she hadn’t in the last twenty five years.

The pain of being re-abandoned was so strong that, with each passing day, it began to gnaw on your insides. The breaking point was perhaps realising that you were her only progeny yet you didn't matter to her. It was a blow you had refused to accept but one that had most definitely broken you internally. You had uprooted your whole life for her, you made this new world yours but at what cost - daily incessant instructions to train, classes after classes teaching you how to fit in, members continually trying to make you feel at home. You didn’t want this home, you didn’t want these people, you only wanted her.

Wonwoo was right, you were never here to be a part of this camp, it was merely a stepping stone to your final goal. You were indeed looking to run.

But before you could wonder about how Wonwoo knew all these things about you, a hand wrapped around your waist. In a flash it pulled you out and tossed you onto the bank as you launched into a coughing fit, throwing up water.

“What the hell Y/n?” A worried voice patted your back. “What were you thinking?”

In between your fit, you raised your head to meet the sight of a set of extremely well chiseled abs, rivets of water dripping down them. Gulping you cleared your throat and scooted back, suddenly aware that you were very very minimally dressed.

Your saviour Seokmin, looked away from you realising the same as he grabbed the shirt he had tossed into the grass before jumping into the water and handed it to you. Taking it from him, you slipped it on.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What?” You frowned. “I'm fine.”

“You were underwater for so long, I thought you drowned…” Seokmin muttered, pushing his wet hair off his face. “Are you okay?”

“I'm okay.” You mumbled. You weren't but you knew he wasn't referring to your broken heart.

“You looked distressed.” Or maybe he was.

“I just… had some thinking to do.”

“Well underwater isn't the best place for that if I'm being honest.” He chuckled. “Unless you're Poseidon's child.”

“What, only you have a claim on water?”

“No, only we can breathe underwater.” He somehow looked embarrassed. “Though I was well into my teens before I discovered that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was terrified of water as a child, wouldn't go near it.” He laughed. “Ironic for the Son of the Sea right?”

You scoffed. “A little.”

“When my aura got stronger, my father found me and helped me get habituated to the waters, that's how I-”

“Your father?” You gulped, knowing the answer even as you asked him. “Your father as in Poseidon? Poseidon helped you?”

Seokmin nodded like it was obvious. “I was so scared of any kind of water body, he would lure me in with my favourite snacks. As I got older, I stopped falling for such tricks so he took me to Olympus and made sure I was personally trained in those olympic size pools-”

“Fucking hell.” You got to your feet, much to Seokmin's confusion, tripping as you did.

“Y/n careful!” He quickly got up, catching you before you hit the ground again. “Are you okay-”

“No.” You shook your head.“I am not.”

And with that you walked away from there, body alight with a different kind of fire now. You needed to find someone immediately.

“Jihoon, we need to talk.”

As you slammed the door of Jihoon’s house open, you were met with silence.

This was the first time you were in his residence and somehow if you had to picture how his home looked, it was nowhere close to this. You assumed the son of the Sun would prefer whites or lighter colours but most of the minimal furniture in his house was a dark black, standing out starkly in the small room. But right now wasn't the time for you to ponder about his interiors, there were more important things you needed to talk to him about.

Turning on your heel, you shut the door behind you, wandering into this backyard instead. You knew Jihoon had his own personal gym somewhere there and if Soonyoung was right about his tendency to work out, it was highly likely you would find him there.

“Hi Cow.” You waved at the half asleep animal under the tree, lazily blinking at you. As though it read your mind, it pointed its head towards the small path on the side before tucking its head between its legs and dozing off. You followed its directions, reaching a large tinted greenhouse and when you opened the door you were greeted by two dozen gym equipment. In the middle of it all was the man you were looking for, his bare back facing you as he hung off a bar, pulling himself up with way too much ease.

“Y/n.” Well it was no surprise he recognised you without even a glance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Why has everyone on camp decided to be shirtless today?” You mumbled, walking in, looking around.

Chuckling, Jihoon jumped off, turning to you as he landed. Eyes running down your body, he cocked his head. “Is that why you chose to go bottomless instead?”

And it was only then that you realized you didn't fully dress yourself before storming away from the lake in just Seokmin's shirt.

“I was hot.” You shrugged, pulling down the shirt.

“Hot you are.” He mumbled, sitting down on the bench, grabbing a pair of dumbells. “There's way too much heat in your body, which means you're either mad or ovulating and I'm not sure how I can help with either.”

“The former.” You rolled your eyes. “And only you can help with it.”

“Go on.” He sighed, curling the weights, his biceps bulging with every move. Tearing your eyes away, you cleared your throat.

“I want to meet my mother.”

“Which one?”

“Hestia.” You crossed your arms. “I have something to ask her.”

“I'm still missing the part where I can help.”

“You said you'll teach me how to reach out to her.”

“I did.” He grunted, focusing on his workout. “And I will, every Thursday at 4-”

You grabbed the dumbbell with surprising ease and put them down before leaning over the man before you, expression threatening.

“Lee Jihoon, I swear to god, if you don't help me right now…”

Your words trailed away as his eyes shifted down to your neck, the shirt no longer hiding the bruises that were littered all over it. You glanced down before straightening yourself, taking a step back. Jihoon got up, pushing his hair back, eyes fixed on you.

“I just…” You sighed. “I just want to meet her once.”

“Then go to the camp temple and invoke her presence.”

“I have, everyday. She doesn’t respond.”

“Then there’s no way I can help you Y/n.” He grabbed his towel, wiping the sweat off his arms. “One can only meet Gods if they wish to meet you and I think your mother has made her wishes very clear.”

“I don’t care what she wishes.” You spoke between gritted teeth. “And you said if I played my cards right, my mother would come looking for me.”

“I also said it would take years of training to become worthy of that.”

“I don't have years, Jihoon. I want to meet her as soon as I can.”

“And why the newfound urgency?” He frowned. “What changed overnight?”

Wonwoo.

“Seokmin said his father taught him to swim, that as a child he took him to Olympus.”

“So?”

“So how come my mother never cared, Jihoon? Why is it that she still doesn't?”

“I already told you-”

“I don't buy that.” You shook your head. “How can a mother be ashamed of having a child? Of her only child?”

“You'd be surprised.” Jihoon looked at you pitably. “Gods aren't like humans.”

“Then let her say that to me.” You took a deep breath. “Let her give me that closure so I can stop losing my mind over this. I just want one meeting with her please, is there really no way?”

“There is one.” He hummed, crossing his arms, his pecs bulging behind them.

“And what is that?”

“By doing a sacrifice.”

“Sac-sacrifice?” You looked at him shocked. “Like those cult stuff?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, forgetting just how little you knew about this world. “Sacrifice is an age-old tradition made by our ancestors to please the gods, to gain their favours.” He leaned against the treadmill, slipping into his professor role, just like he had yesterday. “At times of droughts, they used to call on Zeus for rains. When crops were ravaged by pests, Demeter was the one to turn to. When they were at war, Ares was their savior. But,” He sighed. “calling upon a god was not so easy - it required time and perseverance and procedure-”

“What kind of procedure?”

“It was insanely complex.” Reaching for his bottle, Jihoon began walking out of the greenhouse, you following closely behind. “First, men would have to climb to the top of mount Olympus to get holy fire, then they would gather items for sacrifice. Every god has a set of items that they just cannot refuse. Dionysus loves his gemstones, Poseidon will do anything for seasalt. Artemis is harder to please, she likes a very specific kind of wildflower. If one offered enough of these to please the gods, then they would appear and were obliged to extend one favour in exchange. But ‘enough’ was where the problem lied.” As he bent down to pet Cow, you stared far off at the horizon, lost in thought. ”The Gods were incredibly difficult to satisfy, it took large amounts for anything to be ‘enough’ for them. There were demigods who had spent ages trying to invoke them, even losing their minds in the attempts.”

“That’s degenerate.” You frowned, as he stopped again, this time to grab a bunch of herbs from the wall of his house.

“It was.” He began plucking the leaves, grabbing handfuls. “Eventually, when the Oracle of Delphi was made in charge of the Demigods, things changed. Any demigod who wished to do a sacrifice had to obtain a scroll from her - the Scroll of Sacrifice. A piece of paper that would explicitly state just one thing that the gods wanted in exchange for a favour.”

Pushing the nearby door open, he stepped in.

“So you’re saying,” You followed him into his house. “-the only way for me is to go to the oracle, get a scroll, sacrifice whatever is needed and then in exchange I can earn her favour and make her answer my questions?”

“Theoretically yes, but in reality,” He shook his head, opening yet another door and walking in. “it won’t be that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Delphi only hands scrolls to very few demigods, ones she deems worthy and even if she does, they're incredibly difficult - the sacrifice demanded in exchange is almost always impossible to let go.”

“How hard can it be?” You frowned. “What kind of sacrifices do they ask for?”

Jihoon sighed, the incessant questions finally getting to him. “You do know your weekly classes are for exactly such information right?”

“But I want to know right now.”

“Can I at least tell you without having you stare at me getting dressed?”

Oh.

Apparently you had walked behind him straight into his dressing room.

Muttering an apology, you stepped out as he shut the door behind you.

“So,” You half spun on the balls of your foot. “You were saying?”

Another one of Jihoon’s sighs reached you before his voice. “The Gods are not fond of being obliged to hand out favours - that's why they make sacrifices nearly impossible. I heard Apollo asked for a demigod’s sight and the boy fell to his death before he could even ask for what he wanted. Aphrodite made one of her own children give up her ability to love….. it drove her to insanity. And one of those who prayed to Zeus has been chained to a rock on an abandoned island for nearly twelve years and he still has five more years to go. There are endless stories like this Y/n and each of them will only tell you not to opt for such madness.” He opened the door, now fully dressed, a pair of shorts in his hand. “Here.”

You took it from him, looking a little stumped. “Please wear them Y/n. I can barely look at you…” He muttered walking away again and you quickly slipped on the pair that was just a little too big for you. Following him past a room full of what seemed like musical instruments, you walked into a small pantry.

“What about Hestia?” You gulped, images of her cold face flashing before you. “What has she asked in exchange?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He threw the herbs he had gathered earlier into a motor. “I’ve never heard of anyone who’s really seeked her favour.”

You scoffed. “Of course not, what would they ask her help for? Light up their fireplace?”

Jihoon looked up from the paste he was crushing, slightly miffed. “Your mother is no minor goddess Y/n. She's the caretaker, the protector. Hestia is worshiped in every place called home.”

“How ironic.” You smiled sadly. “Her own daughter has never had a home.”

“Unfortunately, no god considers it their responsibility to take care of their bastard children.” He looked pointedly at the counter. “Sit.”

“Why?”

“Just sit Y/n.”

“But why?”

Sighing, Jihoon rolled his eyes and grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you onto the counter effortlessly as you bit back a scream. As though nothing happened, he continued to do whatever it was he was doing while you tried to calm your uncharacteristically racing heart.

“It's also unfair to blame Hestia for not having a home when your mortal parents were the one who were supposed to care for you.”

“I know.” You muttered looking down at your fiddling fingers. “This may sound insane but finding Hestia might be easier than finding my mortal parents…. I don't know a thing about them.”

“I know someone on camp who can help-”

“But I don't want to find them….yet. I don't know what to ask them.” You looked up as Jihoon pulled out a ladder from the side and began climbing it, reaching for something on the higher shelves. “I’m not prepared to find out if they know the kind of monster I am.”

“Why would you say that?” He looked at you over his shoulder, frowning. “You don’t even know what your powers are, right?”

You gulped, staring at the floor, mind racing back to a conversation last night........

“Try not to touch anything.” Mingyu warned as you strolled along his workshop in the faint light of the moonlight. “I’m not really sure if any of these are still hot. I don’t really…. feel heat.”

As if you did.

Hanging out with Mingyu wasn’t really on your cards today. After Minghao had left you to deal with your little problem on your own, you had silently made your way out of the house and down the street, searching for a pharmacy. It must’ve been a good twenty minute unsuccessful walk before Mingyu, who was driving around on his bike looking for you, spotted you. You told him you were looking to buy some pills for a headache so he offered to drive you to the nearest store. He didn’t need to know what you really needed was some plan B. After you had procured what you wanted and he started heading back to camp, you told him to take the longest route possible. While he obliged, you wrapped your arms around his waist and drifted off, not wanting to think about all that was plaguing your mind. Not wanting to think about Seungcheol.

But he’s the first thought on your mind the moment the bike halted at the camp gate. You didn’t want to see him, not now. Mingyu was generous enough to agree when you muttered wanting to take up his offer to crash in his residence. He didn’t question the change of heart, instead he carefully walked you through his workshop, bringing you to the stairs on the other side, leading you up to his house. You though are far too enthralled to follow him.

“You’ve got quite the space here.” You pursed your lips impressed, stripping out of the jacket as he smiled proudly. “Must never be boring.”

“It isn’t.” He admitted. “Making weapons doesn’t take me too long, leaves a lot of time on my hands for other experiments and endeavors.”

“Such as?”

“I like creating little automations.” He shrugged. “Machinery that allows me to be creative and makes life easier. Like the one that's currently out there chopping up wood, for your house.”

“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows looking around. “What else have you made?”

“Too many to remember.” He laughed. “But my best creation is probably my bike. It took months of trial and error. Couldn't have done it without my best buddy.”

“Wonwoo?” You had noticed the two were significantly closer than the rest. There was definitely some story there.

Mingyu laughed. “Yes Wonwoo is the best but no, I'm talking about that little guy.”

He pointed behind you and you turned, finding yourself about 500 meters away from a not so little three headed dog, snarling at you with all three of its mouths, drooling leaking from the edges. You took a careful step back and another, crashing into the chest of Mingyu who had sneaked up to you.

“What is that?” You whispered, voice shaking just a bit.

“That’s Cerberus, my pet.”

“That’s a pet?!”

“It’s Wonwoo’s actually….. But yes, he’s a pet and he’s really friendly, don’t worry.”

“Huh.” You breathed, not believing his words but only relieved cause you noticed he was chained. “And he helps you with your experiments?”

Mingyu nodded, steering you away from there, walking you toward his house once more. “Cerberus is a very powerful creature - he’s immensely strong, uncharacteristically intelligent and most importantly, he’s my fire source.”

“Fire source?”

“The most important tool for a blacksmith like me is the flame - you see those.” He pointed at big cave shaped structures lined neatly on the edge. “Forging presses like that require fires that cannot be ignited by tiny matchsticks. It takes a powerful source to work them, like Cerberus.”

You tensed, just a little. “So Cerberus can create fire?”

“He breathes fire.” Mingyu clarified. “Cerberus is from the Underworld, like most mysteries in our world. So yeah, he is one of the few creatures that can create fire.”

“C-can’t you?” You scratched the back of your head, trying to seem casual. “You said you don’t feel heat so can’t you… make fire too?”

“Don’t be silly Y/n.” Mingyu scoffed. “Fire is one of the five natural elements. Even the gods, your mother included, can only control fire, not create it.”

You were right. Even here you were a freak, even here you didn’t fit in.

None of Mingyu’s excited explanations about the various projects he was working on went into your head. There was only one thing you could think about - You didn’t belong here and you needed to leave before everyone realised that.

“...and that’s why I don’t have a guest bedroom but don’t worry, my bed is king sized.” Mingyu leaned against the stairs with a small smirk dancing on his face. “Though I can’t promise I can keep my hands to myself.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing him to lead the way up. The only thing that gave you comfort as he laughed was the knowledge that if you burned, Mingyu was perhaps the only one who couldn’t hurt with your fire......

“Y/n.” Jihoon hopped off the ladder looking at you quizzically. “Where are you lost?”

“I….” You cleared your throat. “I just meant, I don’t know, what if my mortal parents are aware of any kind of powers I might have? What if�� that’s what kept them away from me?”

“Then that’s all the more reason you have to find them.” Jihoon shrugged. “It would help us-”

“No.” You firmly shook your head. “Just…let me just talk to Hestia first, everything else can wait.”

“As you wish.” He held up the bowl of whatever concoction he was mixing, a green paste staring at you. “In the meantime…”

“What is that?”

“It's my special ointment for bruises. Makes any and all scars and wounds disappear.”

“I’m not hurt….” Your voice faded away as Jihoon’s eyes landed on the red, purple and blue trail of hickies on your neck.

“Are you sure you want to go around parading the evidence of your threesome last night?”

“I’m not trying to…how do you even know it was a threesome?”

“Those are clearly marked by two different men.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is this another one of your body reading tricks?”

“Yes but anyone who knows you were at your first Aphrodite rager last night will be able to guess that much.” Jihoon shrugged, standing right before you. “In fact, three is a rather small number there, most scenes tend to involve a minimum of five people.”

You felt your jaw hang as Jihoon looked amused.

“So do you want it gone or not?”

“Why?” You cleared your throat. “You think I should hide all this in case the other boys make assumptions like yours? That I ought to have some shame?”

“Not shame, I thought you might appreciate some privacy.” He shrugged. “Given there’s someone who you have been particularly wary of these days.”

Seungcheol.

How did this man know everything?

Sighing, you gripped the edges of Seokmin's shirt and pulled it over your head, baring your neck to the man before you. Trying not to smile, Jihoon slotted himself between your dangling legs, pushed the hair off your shoulder, gently tending to your bruises.

“It might sting.” He warned right on time as you grabbed his bicep with your free hand, feeling pain shooting up your nerves as the cold ointment touched your skin.

“Breathe.” He instructed, softly running his fingers along your collarbone. “It’ll pass.”

You figured listening to the expert might be better so you did, trying your best to ignore the intimate proximity between the two of you.

“While we are at it,” You looked away as he blew on your wounds, cold wind caressing it. “Do you also have something for potential STDs or…. You know, ensuring our kind doesn’t replicate?”

Jihoon chuckled. “Again, demigods don’t get sick Y/n, STDs don’t mean anything to us and we don’t ‘replicate’ either so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Suddenly, every cell in your body stopped functioning. “What do you mean?”

Jihoon blinked at you like he was only just realising what he said. “Uh…. Demigods are barren Y/n, we…. cannot have children.”

Though you were sitting it felt like the ground had been pulled from under your feet. Like everything around you had stopped. Like everything had ended.

“Y/n are you okay?”

How could you be? You just learnt that you could never have children, that you could never be a mother. All your life you didn’t have a family but now? Being a demigod had robbed you of your chance to ever have one in the future. You wanted to peel that part away, rip it and throw it somewhere far away, get rid of this side of you that had done nothing but make everything worse.

Jihoon seemed to have understood the storm inside you. Or felt it. He was quiet as he grabbed a washcloth and slowly wiped away the ointment, the bruises beneath it starting to look a lot lighter already. As the sting ebbed away, the pain in your heart felt more apparent, coursing through you, hurting everywhere.

At that moment your eyes trailed over the soft and sharp features of his face burrowed in concentration, your admiration for it overpowering every other thought.

That’s it. That’s what you needed again. A distraction.

Now that his job was done, Jihoon tried to move away but your grip on his arm was like a vice. He glanced at it then at you with a raised eyebrow.

“So you're telling me-” You cocked your head at him. “-even though I let two men cum inside me yesterday and if my prediction is right, another will get his turn today - I'm not at the potential risk of anything?”

Jihoon raised his eyebrow. “No you're not but pray tell, since when did the daughter of Hestia dabble in predictions? I thought that was in the hands of Apollo's prodigy.”

“It is.” You ran your hand down his arm, feeling every ridge of muscle under your touch, voice leaving you in a whisper. “The possibility of my prediction coming true or not is in your hands really.”

Jihoon’s eyes darkened as your tongue darted out to lick your lower lip slowly. Before you knew it, his hands gripped the thickness of your thighs and with a quick jerk he pulled you closer to him, your legs wrapping around his waist. Jihoon looked up at you and you down at him, breaths mingling in anticipation.

“I know what you're doing Y/n and I know why you're doing this.” He spoke ever so softly. “But I'm not a distraction kind of guy so if there's ever a time you really want me, then you'll have me.”

With that he pulled you off the counter and let you lower your legs on to the floor, looking away. Given the kind of tension and the comfort you had grown to have with him and most importantly how unbelievably hard he was, his length right below your ass, you didn't think he'd say no. It was fair, he was allowed to. It wasn't his fault you were looking to jump any given person just to take your mind off things.

Nodding, and mumbling a soft thanks for the ointment, you grabbed your shirt and walked past him, only stopping by the corridor to return what was his.

“Sorry.” Muttering you slid off his shorts and placed it on the shelf beside you.

Jihoon surprisingly let out a soft groan. You thought it was because you were suddenly minimally dressed but you noticed his eyes were gazing between your legs, on the wet spot of your underwear. You tried to press your legs closer, suddenly feeling very exposed but all it does is darken the spot, making things worse.

“Fucking hell.” Jihoon muttered and in a flash you were pushed up against the wall, trapped between it and him, caged by his arms on either side. “I'm only just a man Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered down to his pants, the outline of his hard on starkly visible. “Uh huh.”

“Do you still want this?”

You cocked your head, hand running down his chest and over the tent in his pants as you smirked. “I predicted it.”

“Allow me to make a pre-” His words faltered as you squeezed his length. “-prediction as well.”

“By all means.”

“You're gonna cum three times before I do.”

“Oh really?” You raised your eyebrows and spat into your hand, slipping it past the waistband of his pants, wrapping your hand around his length. “I don't think so.”

“That's….” He half panted, watching your hand do its job, his own hands still against the wall like they were taped to it. “Getting a headstart is cheating.”

“You're slow.”

“I'm savouring.” He smiled, leaning closer. “I'm in good hands and I know you're soaked. It's only a matter of time before you're begging.”

You chuckled softly as though you were amused by his assumption but true to his words, your walls were already fluttering, clenching around nothing as your legs squeezed together. Jihoon, like the master of reading your body that he was, put his hand right in between, cupping you over your underwear, the pressure of his palm on your clit ever so light. From the soft sigh that left your mouth you both knew you were faring far worse than he was - truly, it was brave on your part to challenge him.

“Jihoon….”

He hums in response as the pace of your hand falters.

“Touch me.”

“I am sweetheart.”

“More.” You wrapped your free hand around his wrist, breath shaking and Jihoon allowed you to lead him exactly where you wanted him - past the hem of your panties, right where the wetness was pooling between your legs.

“Good fucking god…” He swore like he didn't expect you to be this drenched. What a funny guy. What did he think was gonna happen when he was this undeniably hot?

You on the other hand expected him to be a tease, to draw this out, to make you beg. But to your complete surprise, he wasted no time in sliding two thick digits in, making you squeeze his length at the sheer stretch of the intrusion.

“Sweetheart, you're gonna kill me.” He muttered, shutting his eyes tight.

You wanted to apologise, you really did but whatever words were leaving your mouth didn't seem to be making any sense. Not when Jihoon was picking up the pace, taking turns pumping, curling and scissoring his fingers inside you. You felt your back arch on its own, head thrown back as an unholy moan left your being. Fuck he was right, you cannot possibly think of anything else now - this man was capable of turning you into a complete wreck before you could even get a moan out of him.

“Your bruises have nearly disappeared.” He noticed with your neck bared to him once again. “It was prettier marked.”

“Mark it then.” You panted, composing yourself, getting back to stroking him again. “Do whatever you want.”

And that's enough to break his resolve, as you felt his fingers slowing down while his teeth ran across the skin of your shoulder. Taking advantage of his momentary fixation, you ran your thumb across his slit, feeling the precum spill onto your fingers. Jihoon groaned, his mouth getting more aggressive on your neck as you gripped his bicep again, sinking your nails into it.

Fuck, there it was.

That tightening in the pits of your being, there it was, slowly climbing as you felt your legs starting to shake and Jihoon smirking against your skin, reading all the signs like he knew your body inside out. Thank god he could because just when you needed it, he slid in another finger and curled them up, reaching that sweet spot that had you instantly snapping, falling apart.

He stilled his movements as you convulsed around his fingers, holding onto him tight but before you could even come down from your high, he started moving again.

“Ji… Jihoon.” You whimpered, chest heaving. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

And before you know it your barely ebbed orgasm blended into a second one and you were practically gushing out into his hand.

“Damn sweetheart.” He smiled at you like he was a little too pleased with himself. “You're an easy one.”

Excuse me?

You could barely get a hold of yourself but that wasn't the most pressing matter - how dare he dismiss you so easily?

Given your mouth was dry you swallowed on nothing, and shoved him back with just a small push. Jihoon looked at you confused initially, then his eyes widened as you dropped to your knees and he realised what you were up to. But just as your hand reached the waistband of his bottoms and he pushed the hair off your face, more than ready to fuck your mouth, a loud sound rang through the silence of the afternoon.

“Shit.” Jihoon muttered pulling you up. “That's code purple.”

You groaned. “Why are there so many fucking colours?”

Frowning, he threw you your clothes before leading you to a small basin to wash your hands and his. “We need to go. It’s an emergency team meeting.”

As he scurried around grabbing his things, his bow and arrows to be specific, you dressed yourself once again, watching him. Guess neither of your predictions were coming true after all.

Noticing you were still lost in your thoughts, Jihoon sighed and grabbed you by the hand, leading you out of his house and to the dining hall of the common cabin where apparently all team meetings were held.

When the two of you had reached, thankfully only Soonyoung and Seungkwan were there and though their expressions were full of questions, they asked none. Before you knew it, everyone had gathered and whispers going around as they settled in their seats but the moment Seungcheol raised his hand, they died down.

“What's the matter?”

Seungkwan nodded at Soonyoung who stood up, looking around.

“Kwan and I sent some messages out today asking about the geese attack last night.” He shook his head slowly. “It seems no camp is responsible for it.”

Minghao spun the blade in his hand with a frown. “So it wasn't a prank or an act of retribution?”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Considering how we all thought their nature was odd, Hansol connected us to some Hunters of Artemis.” He laid out a map with four red crosses. “They gave us four locations where birds like this were sighted.”

“So this was just like any other animal attack?” Seokmin leaned back, looking relieved.

“I'm afraid not. It may or may not be a coincidence but the Hunters also claim that all four locations have been frequently exhibiting very high energy signals, signals that might belong to…” Seungkwan gulped. “The Chimaera.”

A strange silence descended upon the room as glances were exchanged. You looked at Jihoon questioningly but he looked troubled.

“The fire breather.” Chan let out a low whistle. “It hasn't been heard of in centuries.”

“It seems to be on the move off late.” Hansol tucked the arrows he was polishing into his quiver. “It's hunting.”

“And I think the geese are its agents.” Soonyoung pointed out. “Geese have always been symbols of vigilance and surveillance. Whatever the Chimaera is hunting, I think it's using the birds to trace it. That's why neither Jun nor Hansol could understand them, because they aren't wild or domestic - they're monsters.”

“Chan,.” Seungcheol straightened himself. “Alert Olympus, tell them we need troops-”

“It seems Olympus assigned the hunt to Artemis, ” Seungkwan added. “And you know how the Hunters function. Their goal is to capture the beast, not kill it so they have been taking their time to strategize.”

“Well we can't wait for them to figure things out.” Jeonghan stared at the map on the table, a hundred things running in his mind. “We're going to have to hunt the monster on our own.”

“Us?” Minghao looked around. “Do you even understand how powerful the creature is-”

“Should we just sit back and wait for it to attack the camp then?” Jeonghan raised his eyebrows. “Because whatever it's looking for is here and monsters aren't patient creatures.”

“I know, but-”

“Minghao.” Seungcheol interrupted, warning. “Jeonghan is our strategist, we'll let him decide what's best.”

Minghao nodded begrudgingly as Jeonghan pulled the paper towards himself, Soonyoung handing him a pen.

“We'll split according to our assigned partners.” He began drawing out lines and scribbling names. “Seungkwan and Soonyoung, you two head to the demigod union in the city and alert them, in case we need back up. Minghao and Jun, I want you both here for camp protection, Mingyu and Wonwoo as well…” He looked thoughtful. “If the Chimaera decides to attack the camp in our absence, Cerberus is the only chance we have against it.”

As all four boys nodded, Jeonghan turned to the rest.

“The remaining of us will go to the four locations. Everyone will use an energy reader and find the location of the Chimaera. Once you’ve narrowed down its location, alert the team to gather for a hunt. Any foolishness such as going after the monster on your own will not lead to punishment because you'll already be dead.” He glanced around. “Is that understood?”

Mummers of agreement echoed in the room.

“Jihoon and Hansol, you two head to the one in the south, that's the biggest area but your hounds should help cover it. Joshua and I will head east, Chan and Seokmin will head west and Seungcheol…..” His eyes landed on the leader who was very evidently shaking his head. “Seungcheol and Y/n, you two will head north.”

You looked at Jeonghan in disbelief.

“Han,” Seungcheol spoke before you could say anything. “I don't need a partner, I've always been a lone hunter-”

“That was because we were an odd number of members. But now there's 14 of us so Y/n will go with you-”

“It's a dangerous mission and she's untrained.” Seungcheol spoke between gritted teeth. “She will be better off in camp-”

“She will be safer with our strongest warrior.” Jeonghan argued back. “You cannot always be team leader Cheol, learn to be a team player. Y/n will accompany you.”

“No I won’t.” You shook your head. “I have no interest in being where I am not wanted.”

“Y/n, it's not a choice.” Jeonghan sounded tired. “I'm the strategist and this is an order-”

“I don't care.” You got up, firm about your decision. “I'm not going anywhere with this man.”

And with that you stormed away from there, ignoring the faint voice of Jeonghan who sighed and continued giving instructions.

“We leave tomorrow at daybreak.”

You stared at the schedule in your hand wondering why on Earth you hadn't looked at it before you stepped into the classroom. Admittedly all your time went in washing up, changing your clothes, grabbing lunch and rushing for your afternoon lesson, but you should have noticed what was in store for today.

Friday - Quest Strategy (Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan)

And you didn't want to see either of them right now.

But before you could grab your things and leave the room to make it seem like you were never here in the first place, Jeonghan arrived, standing against the door, watching you pack up.

“You need to stop running away from everything.”

As he walked in, you looked up, rolling your eyes. “And you need to stop interfering in my life.”

“My decisions as strategist aren't personal Y/n, I do what's beneficial for the camp and its members.” He leaned against the board. "Accommodating your individual preference is not a part of my job profile.”

“Okay, that's great, then be prepared for only one of us to come back alive tomorrow.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes at your dramatic statement. “What happened between the two of you?”

You scoffed at him. As if you were going to tell him.

“Seungcheol has been my comrade since we were teenagers, I know him better than anyone and I know for a fact that he's not the villain you're making him to be.”

“Oh he's not?” You crossed your arms. “Okay then explain why when I was throwing myself onto him for days, he kept avoiding me but the moment I walked away from him, he came chasing? And did the man at least go through with that? No, he decided to leave me hanging yet again and then he behaved like everything that's happening is my fault?” You threw your hands in the air. “No apology, no explanation, he just continued to avoid me and when I finally got him out of my mind, then he decided he wanted to talk to me? I didn't want to, but he couldn't even respect my space and ended up coming to the party and….”

“And?” Jeonghan looked curiously.

“And I think he knows that I slept with Soonyoung….” You didn't meet Jeonghan’s eyes. “and Minghao.”

Jeonghan hummed, nodding his head, taking in all the information, as you added quickly.

“But it was only because all of us were under the influence of aphrodisiacs-”

“That's irrelevant.” Jeonghan waved his hand. “Who you choose to be with and what you choose to do is entirely your choice. But you think Seungcheol is mad about that?”

“I'm not sure. I have a feeling he is.”

“That's not right.”

“Now you see my point?”

“I didn’t say he wasn't stupid.” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “But I still stand by the fact that he's not a bad person.”

“Okay mate, you need to get your head out of your bestie's ass.”

Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. You expected him to say something snarky but his expression slowly turned serious.

“Do you know why you're in Camp Seventeen Y/n?”

“Because I'm a demigod?” That was perhaps the first time you had said that out loud.

“Yes but why this camp?”

“The Oracle assigned me.”

“Partly.” Jeonghan nodded. “The Oracle of Delphi only assigns demigods to camps that are willing to take them. Seungcheol was the only leader willing to take you.”

Your lips parted in surprise as Jeonghan continued.

“Do you know what was supposed to happen the night you were kidnapped and brought to the court?”

You shook your head.

“You were going to be attacked.” Jeonghan let out a deep breath. “The sudden activation of your aura after years of dormancy seemed to have drawn in a lot of attention. Days after your little incident, Olympus sent out a report that the levels of monster activity in the city were unprecedentedly high. They said there was a large influx of monsters and we had to be alert but I don't think so. Especially not after what we learnt today.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's not monsters but one monster that came to the city.” Jeonghan looked at you keenly. “I think it was the Chimaera and I think you are what it's hunting.”

The things in your hand slipped and hit the floor with a thud. You?

“You mean… I'm the threat in this camp?”

“You're the one in danger.” He corrected. “But yes you are the threat and more importantly, Cheol knows that. He always knew that. It was evident from the start that you were a monster magnet, that you are some kind of anomaly and that making you a part of our camp would only mean more danger but he said it didn't matter. He said as long as someone needed to be saved, he would do it. He said he would be your protector and that's why you're here Y/n - because Cheol made the choice to safeguard you.”

You blinked at a loss of words.

“Even yesterday, when the geese attacked and we didn't know what was happening at the party, his first instinct was to check if you were okay. That's why he came to the rager. That’s also why he's been so frustrated, why he doesn't want you to accompany him tomorrow. Your safety is his first priority.”

Letting out a deep breath, you ran your hand through your hair, internally beating yourself up. You had no idea.

“Will Seungcheol be coming for the lesson today?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I don't think so, he's busy at Mingyu’s workshop, preparing for tomorrow, like you should be doing too.”

“I can't possibly learn anything by tonight that'll help me tomorrow.”

“Yes you can.” Jeonghan walked up to you. “We can try and understand why the Chimaera is after you. We can discuss your lawsuit considering it was the root cause of everything and see if it gives us any answers. Let me just call Wonwoo and-”

“Absolutely not.” You quickly grabbed all your things again. Wonwoo was still on the list of people you didn't want to meet. “I need to find Cheol first.”

And with that you swung your bag over your shoulder, rushing out of the classroom, leaving a sighing Jeonghan behind.

When you reached Mingyu’s residence, Seungcheol was indeed in the workshop along with a couple of camp members, inspecting the weapons for tomorrow. Immersed in their discussion they didn't notice your presence until you stepped in and Cerberus let out a low growl, his eyes following you.

“Y/n.” Mingyu jogged up to you, looking concerned. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” You gulped looking at Seungcheol’s back. “I was hoping to talk to Cheol real quick.”

“We're in the middle of a meeting, I'm not sure…”

“Please Mingyu, it'll be quick.”

“I can ask him but-”

“Gyu.” Seungcheol looked over his shoulder. “What's the matter?”

“Y/n is here,” Mingyu raised his voice. “She wants to talk to you.”

As lightning ripped across the sky, Seungcheol let out a deep breath “Send her away.”

And for the nth time you could hear your heart breaking because of Seungcheol.

“Seungcheol I just want to apolo-”

“I don't want to hear it.” He turned to you, voice hard and gaze unforgiving. “Please leave.”

Mingyu looked at you apologetically as did the other members, Jihoon included. Taking a step back and then another you walked out, the low grumbles of the thunder not louder than the thumping of your heart.

Sometimes you really had to remind yourself that Natalie was in fact a pig and not a dog.

You tended to forget given how much she liked to be taken on walks and sniff everything around. Today she took you from Seungcheol’s house to Mingyu’s to Seungkwan’s to the common cabin and finally to the temple where she found a spot of wet mud and decided to roll in it. That was until she spotted Wonwoo walking by, perhaps heading to secure the camp's borders for the night, given it was nearly dusk. You looked away from him but your pet decided to jump up and follow him like she always loved to do.

Sighing, you walked over to the area designated for campfire and sat on one of the logs, picking on the chips of wood nonchalantly. When the cold wind of the evening caressed your skin, sending shivers down your spine, you looked around, making sure no one was watching you. Realising you were all alone you waved your hand, watching the flames dance on your palm before they floated over to the wood in the middle, lighting the campfire. You stared at the orange flames, Jeonghan's words ringing in your head again - I think you're what it's hunting.

It couldn't be a coincidence. A powerful monster, a fire breather that had been quiet for centuries, wanting to find you of all people. That couldn't be a coincidence. Was it possible the Chimaera knew something about you? Did it know why you were such a freak?

And why did Seungcheol choose to protect someone like you? Why won't the man just let you hate him peacefully? He just had to be so righteous and brave and good…. But if he cared about you so much, why did he always pull away? Why did he never reciprocate?

It seemed like life only liked to throw questions at you, never any answers. You were too tired for all this. You just wanted to stop thinking. You just wanted this day to end and let yourself be taken away by sleep so you could forget all this. You just wanted some peace.

As though the universe hated you, at that exact time, Jihoon walked out of the temple, hands shoved in his pockets, mind clearly elsewhere. You were thankful he hadn't noticed your presence and had almost left the premises busy in his own world until he suddenly stopped at the edge of the trees, turning back to see you.

As your eyes locked his, he sighed walking back to you, sitting just over a foot away. He didn't say anything and you didn’t know what to say.

“You're nervous.” He pointed out. “Your heart is racing.”

You shook your head exasperated. “Do people tell you how annoying it is to be around you?”

“Not quite.” He chuckled. “I don't like being around people.”

“Why am I the exception?”

“You came looking for me.”

“You literally just came and sat next to me.”

“I meant earlier.”

“I'm talking about now.”

“I just…” He sighed, turning to you. “I just wanted to say, don’t take whatever Seungcheol says to heart. He has too many pressures on him as leader, especially in situations like this-”

“You know, that excuse is getting very overused. Is his consistent dismissal of me justified just because he's a busy, important man?”

“It's not.” Jihoon shook his head. “But I thought you should know - his heart was racing just as fast when you came to talk to him. It always is around you.”

You scoffed, tired of people telling you the same thing.

“All that tachycardia could be pathological. He should get himself checked-”

“There's clearly something he's unable to tell you, some reason for why he is the way he is.” Jihoon justified. “Give him a chance to explain himself.”

“I have to give him a chance?” You looked at him incredulously. “Did you not see how he sent me away?”

“Yes I did, it was the same way you ran away to a party when he wanted to talk.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “If you both just keep being idiots like this, things are never going to get better.”

“Honestly things don’t have to.” You tugged on the sleeves of your shirt. “It's not like we are star crossed lovers or something. This infatuation or crush or whatever it is, it will eventually die down. All I hope is for us to at least be courteous with each other but he can't even seem to do that.”

Jihoon stared at the ground. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

That was a question you didn't have an answer to. So you ignored it.

“I just want us to be pleasant over tomorrow's hunt, that's all. But something tells me things might just get a whole lot worse.”

“Are you making predictions again?” Jihoon chuckled. “Have you still not learnt that you're horrible at it?”

“Hey, that's not fair.” You laughed along. “Besides, the day is not over yet.”

“Oh you still think you stand a chance with me?”

You narrowed your eyes at his laughing self. “I didn't say it had to be you. But you said you could make me cum thrice - I only came once.”

“Twice.”

“Once.”

“You're forgetting that I can read your body.” He cocked his head at you. “Twice.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Still less than three.”

“You and I both know if I wasn't interrupted I could've done it.”

“Not true.” You shook your head. “If I blew you, you didn't stand a chance.”

“How ever will we know which of us is right?”

He looked at you, something darker swirling behind his eyes and it made your insides twist. There was a way to find out and given how empty you had been feeling since earlier, maybe you would have, if only Seungwkan didn't walk over, settling down on the log across yours. Although Jihoon and you were already sitting apart, the two of you moved further away.

“Natalie is sleeping in Jun's barn apparently.” Seungkwan informed. “Wonwoo has too much to do today - There won't be a shift handover tomorrow since Hansol and Jihoon will be heading for the hunt.”

You nodded, not really understanding because you didn't really bother to actually. Your mind was entirely elsewhere, wondering about other possibilities.

“We uh should probably sleep early since, you know,-” You got up swinging your arms. “-big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon followed your suit, slowly standing. “Better get good rest.”

Seungwkan nodded, glancing at Hansol who was walking over, “You two go ahead, the two of us need to have a little chat.”

You nodded as the man in question sat beside Seungwkan, poking the fire with a stick, avoiding your eyes as usual. Unbothered, you turned to Jihoon, catching him already looking at you.

“Jihoon can I-”

“Y/n do you-”

Both of you looked at each other, gulping.

“I uh…” You tried yet again to feign casualness. “I wanted to ask for the ointment you gave me earlier, for bruises. I… have many mosquito bites.”

“Right.” He scratched his head. “I was going to offer you the same.”

“Oh good.”

“Yeah good.”

Seungkwan’s eyes flickered between the two of you but it was only when Hansol looked up that you realised just how suspicious this must seem. Waving an uncharacteristic bye, you quickly left, Jihoon following at a considerable distance as you made your way to his residence.

The events of earlier today repeated in a similar fashion - Jihoon plucked a few herbs and walked into his house. You followed him, straight into his pantry this time considering neither of you needed a change of clothes. He proceeded to grind up the greens in a paste as you leaned against the door, watching the strong muscles of his back. Fuck you’d love to run your nails down that.

“What are we doing Y/n?” Finally stopping whatever he was doing, Jihoon gripped the edges of the counter, his expression unseen.

“I don’t know what you are doing.” You shrugged. “I am just here to prove I was right.”

Chuckling, Jihoon turned to you. When he saw you slowly unbuttoning the shirt you had donned, his eyes darkened. “Straight down then left.” He turned back to whatever he was doing. “Wait in my room.”

Pulling your shirt off your shoulders you threw it at him, letting out a giggle and walking away.

“I don’t like to wait!” You announced, following his instructions. Almost.

On the way your eyes fell on the music room you had seen earlier, legs instinctively taking a detour. There were all kinds of instruments in there - banjos on the wall, guitars lined up beside the drum set. There was a large grand piano too and a huge computer with all kinds of equipment around. It was impressive to say the least.

“I said left, not right.” Jihoon walked in, one hand shoved in his pocket, another holding on to a strange, black drink.

“You have a recording studio here.”

“I would say you're observative but it's pretty obvious so that would be an overstatement.”

“How do you power these?” You turned to him. “Without electricity?”

“Well you’re analytical, I’ll give you that.” He let out a small laugh before he explained. “I’m the Sun’s progeny - a little solar energy goes a long way.”

“So all of these work?” You looked around surprised. “Can I listen to something you’ve made?”

“I don’t think we’re close enough for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “But we’re close enough for you to have your fingers in me?”

“You asked for it.” He shrugged. “And I’m a giver.”

Laughing, you ran your fingers across the piano. “Can you at least play something for me?”

Jihoon looked at you for a solid minute before he let out a resigned breath. Setting the drink down on the counter, he grabbed a saxophone from the wall and aligned it with his mouth. You leaned against the piano, urging him to continue with the tilt of the head.

As the sultry sound of his melody rang through the room, you found yourself swaying to it - it was a good piece, a sexy one that definitely worked to set the mood. But you had ways you could do that on your own too.

Nearing him, each step matching the rhythm of the music, you ran your hand along his groin, feeling his erection already waiting for you. Smirking to yourself you got on your knees before him, hands working on his waistband and surprisingly, you heard him mess up a note.

“Uh oh.” You tutted, looking up at him. “No mistakes, no fumbling or I’ll stop.”

Jihoon tensed under your touch, continuing to play his piece, facing turning red but the melody not stopping. Unzipping his pants, you just about leaned in to give the bulge in his underwear a butterfly of a kiss when you felt a chill run down your body. Something was wrong.

As though you’d lost all sense of autonomy, you could feel yourself moving back, sitting on your heels, your hands proceeding to unclasp your bra instead. Sliding it down your arms and throwing it away, you got up and shimmied out of your shorts and underwear in one go. You gulped as Jihoon watched you sit on the black couch across him, breaths shallow and fast, chest heaving because this wasn’t you - you somehow had no control over your body. You didn’t mean to pull your legs up and spread them open or run your fingers along your slit, or slide them into your wet hole as though you were putting on a show for him. Yes you felt good but none of this was you.

Jihoon watched with hooded eyes as you pumped your fingers in and out, free hand moving up to squeeze a boob. Everything moved to its own accord, working you up with a vigor you would have never used on yourself, the sound of the wetness and your moans almost drowning out the song. Your back arched as you felt everything tense, but your eyes did not leave Jihoon’s who finally could not take it anymore, setting the sax aside, leaning over you.

His own fingers found your clit, rubbing onto it in a way that unmistakably tightened the coil in you. Whimpers left your mouth and though it felt like you were in control of yourself again, you couldn’t stop. Not now, not when you were feeling so good, not when you were so close…. Not until Jihoon whispered.

“Come on sweetheart, cum for me.”

And you did, around your own fingers, eyes seeing white as he continued to tease your clit, a groan rumbling across his chest.

“Wha…” You panted, slowly coming down from your high, arousal leaking out of you. “What the hell just happened?”

“That-” Jihoon smirked, straightening himself. “-was my prediction coming true.”

“But why could I… why could I not…”

“Control yourself?”

You nodded.

“Because the song you just heard is what we call Apollo’s Anthem.” He cocked his head at you victoriously. “If mastered, the one who plays it can make anyone dance to their tunes, like you just did.”

“That….” Your eyes widen with realization. “That was you? Making me do all that?”

He nodded.

“Now that's cheating.” You huffed, pulling your legs together, pressing them. “I demand a rematch. We're gonna have to redo-”

“Next time.” He fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled his shirt over this head. “Right now there's another prediction we need to work on.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as Jihoon stripped out of his pants, baring himself completely given he had gone commando underneath.

“For fucks sake, I've been hard since the afternoon and there's nothing I can think other than cumming inside you.”

A triumphant smirk danced across your lips as you leaned back, watching his callously stroke his length.

“You know, I had my fill with three orgasms today and I'm quite exhausted. I see no reason I have to indulge.”

Jihoon blinked at you. “Didn't you want to be proven right?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “My math teacher always used to say, the truth never needs to be proven, it always reveals itself. He was a hot man, now that I'm thinking about him, very irresistible.”

“Can we please not talk about your hot math teacher while I'm jerking off?” Jihoon groaned. “Now I'm thinking of my math teacher and he was a gnome of a man.”

You laughed, watching as he picked up the pace, desperate to finish himself.

“Is your right hand satisfying enough?”

“No but I'll have to settle for imagining it's you.” He whimpered. “Albeit it's not even close to how tight you were.”

You hummed, suddenly feeling both pity for him and curiosity as to just how much a dick as thick as that could stretch you out. “Do you still want to fuck me?”

“Why is that still a question?”

“I'll allow it.” Spreading your legs again, you ran your fingers along the folds again, this time wantonly, smearing the remnants of your previous orgasm all over. “But only because you've to hunt tomorrow and I don't want you to be distracted, thinking about dicking me down-.”

“Stop talking and move over.” He muttered and finally you listened, shifting to the side as he sat beside you. Wasting no time, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his lap, his dick grazing against your clit, sending a jolt down your body. As you held his shoulders, he pumped himself a few times before aligning the tip right at your hole, dragging it along the wetness agonisingly slowly.

“Jihoon for god's sake, just put it in.”

“Say you want me to fuck you.”

“You want me to fuck you.”

Your bratty-ness was met with a painful spank on the ass.

“Say it.” He rubbed the area softly, before spreading the cheeks, the head of his dick ever so slightly entering you. “Say you want this as much as me.”

You tried to chase that feeling, sink further down his length, but his grip was strong and unnerving.

“Fuck Jihoon please.” You whined as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking it. “Let's just do this already.”

“Can’t hear you.”

“Jihoon…” You begged as he pulled out, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Walls are soundproof sweetheart.” He reached up, nuzzling your neck. “Let me hear you.”

“For fucks sake, fuck me already Jihoon!” You babbled, desperate to not lose the feeling of him sliding into you again. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-”

“Ride me.” He whispered, pushing you down on his cock, the sheer thickness of it nearly splitting you open. “God you're so tight.”

“And you're so big.” You moaned, as you bottomed out on him, feeling every inch of his thickness against your fluttering walls.

Jihoon allowed you to adjust to his length, mouth working on marking your breasts instead but when you began involuntary squeezing him he pulled away, biting his lip like he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Y/n....” He mumbled, fingers gripping your waist tighter. “Move.”

And you did, like your life depended on it, knees digging into the couch taking support. With his hands sliding down to your ass again, he helped too, bouncing you on him with a pace you could not have managed on your own. You threaded your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, head thrown back, guttural moans leaving you. Jihoon seemed to enjoy all of it, the way you sounded, the way you felt around him, the way you gripped his hair as your core began to tighten threateningly. You could tell from the way he chose to hold you in place instead, thrusting himself up into you and your arousal dripping down his length filthily that you were close but he was far from ready for this to be over.

Oh this was going to be a long night.

“Y/n wake up.” It was the soft shaking that drew you out of your sleep. “It’s nearly dawn.”

Jihoon’s face hovered over yours, looking tense. You stretched awake, blinking your eyes open, looking around - you were still in his music room, lying on his couch. You must’ve slept here last night, you didn’t even realise when you went into a deep slumber. From all the bedding on the floor you figured Jihoon crashed in here with you despite having a room of his own in his own house. Slightly thankful that he was gracious enough to not leave you alone, you sat up, pulling your hair into a bun.

“The boys are done washing up if you wish to hit the showers.” He gathered the remaining of your clothes on the floor, which was really just your bra and handed it to you. “You should also eat something. We skipped dinner last night.”

Of course you did.

You’d never had sex this intense before last night. You vaguely remembered cumming nearly three more times - once while you were riding him, right before he emptied his load right into you and two more before he pulled you off him and had you on your knees on the couch, your ass and his cum dripping out of you on display for him as he fucked you and filled you one more time. After that, right before you faded into a deep sleep, you also recalled him cleaning you, handing you that black drink from earlier and helping you get dressed - eating was not even on your agenda before you passed out.

But now admittedly, you were hungry and also in desperate need for a shower so you swung your legs off the couch and got to your feet. Taking a step was particularly difficult though, given how sore you were.

“Here.” Jihoon handed you a glass of the same potion. “It’ll help with the pain.”

Muttering a small thanks, you downed the bitter juice in one gulp. As you returned the glass he handed you a small box of a very familiar green ointment, looking pointedly at your neck. Apparently he had given you his own set of the very bruises he had healed yesterday. Scoffing, you took it from him, walking away, towards the main door.

“Are you okay?” He asked from behind as you nodded, looking over your shoulder.

“Thank you Jihoon, for everything.” and with that you shut the door, stepping out into the darkness before dawn, taking a deep breath.

Something about Jihoon’s expression told you he was expecting you to say something more but you didn’t have anything else to say. He was a distraction, you were successfully distracted and now you were back to your reality and the real world. Now it was time to face Seungcheol again.

Realising the sun would be out in a while, you quickly headed for a shower keeping your head down not to meet the eyes of the boys busy loading the cars at the edge of the camp. As you walked into the bathhouse you wondered if you would meet your regular bypasser at this time of the day too and brushed off the possibility but to your complete surprise, Wonwoo, fully dressed for a change, was right there, leaning against the lockers as though he was waiting for you.

“You're on time.”

“And I don't have the time for you.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your towel, heading towards the showers.

“Careful Y/n.” Wonwoo called out from behind you, his voice a lot less nonchalant than it normally was. “The Chimaera is no small monster. It's dangerous, manipulative and feeds on chaos.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he continued.

“If things take a turn and you're forced to face it, do whatever it takes to fight it. Don't think, don't analyse, just do it.”

Frowning, you turned to him, wondering why he was suddenly saying all this but without explaining himself any further, Wonwoo straightened himself and simply left from there.

By the time you had arrived at the dining hall, right around the time the sun had begun to peak from behind the mountains, all the boys had gathered around the table, dressed in armours and gear. Jeonghan was leading the meeting again, walking around handing something that looked a lot like a golden medallion.

“Keep your energy readers close to you at all times - the Chimaera is a very intelligent monster but it's not very fast, so in a critical situation, early detection may be what saves your lives.” Noticing your presence, he walked up to you, holding the medallion out. “This is an energy reader. The way demigods have auras, monsters do too and this little handy thing can pick up on it. The closer you are to a creature, the warmer it gets so pay attention. If the medallion manages to pick the right frequency, it will morph into an image of the monster so you'll know exactly what it is. Understood?”

You nodded.

“Turn.”

And you did, as he pushed your hair onto a shoulder and secured the chain at the nape of your neck. You ran your fingers across the golden indentation of the surface curiously - it was kind of heavy.

“Your armour is in Cheol's car.” Mingyu piqued from his seat. “So are the flares and your looking glass.”

You turned to Jeonghan who understood the confusion etched on your face.

“You are, at no point, allowed to abandon your partner but on the off chance that you are separated, send a flare and it will help him identify your location and a looking glass-” He pulled out a small pane of glass from his pocket. “-is how you can communicate with the members. Just say the name of whoever you want to talk to and they'll appear on it.”

Finally understanding you nodded, as Jeonghan handed you one last thing - a folded paper.

“This is a copy of the map. Seungcheol will be driving so be sure to guide him properly.”

You looked over his shoulder at the leader who seemed tense.

“Whatever is going on between you two, please just keep aside for one day.” Jeonghan looked at you pointedly and sighing, you nodded. You would be courteous with him, you could do that much.

As the boys began shuffling around, getting to their feet and leaving the hall, a hand on your arm stopped you from following.

“Breakfast.” Jun held out with a small box that looked like it was filled to the brim. “Eat on the way. You'll need your energy.”

Muttering a grateful thanks, you took it from him, glancing at Minghao who was standing beside him, arms crossed.

“I know you're not fully trained but every demigod should have a weapon on them when they're out in the real world.” Your trainer put a pair of daggers in your hand. “Twin blades. I think they'll suit you.”

You turned the sheathed weapons in your hand, liking how light they felt. Minghao seemed proud of how comfortable you were.

“Stay safe doll.”

He called out as you left, a new unknown fear coursing through you as everything got more and more real.

By the time you reached the gates, everyone else had already taken off, leaving only Seungcheol leaning against his G wagon, waiting for you. The things Mingyu mentioned were in the passenger seat, neatly folded when you opened the door. As you tried to quickly slip them all on, Seungcheol waited, not offering to help, not even looking, just staring out at the woods. When you finally clambered in, he got in too, turning on the engine and taking off swiftly. You stared at the map on your lap - fuck, it was a long ride.

In the 2 hours that the two of you had been driving, the sun had fully risen, you had finished your breakfast and not one word that was irrelevant to the route had been exchanged. You stared out of the window, watching the trees whizz by - you had crossed much of the town houses in the outskirts and the road was getting narrower and lonelier now. It made sense why a monster would hide out here.

“How much further?” Seungcheol asked, fingers drumming the wheel.

“Until we reach the big olive tree.” You peered at the map trying to understand the images instead given you couldn't read Greek. “There we turn left.”

Seungcheol hummed, then silence descended once again.

It was a miracle you went through so much time without saying anything to the man beside you. Considering it was just the two of you and neither of you could run, it was the perfect time to talk about everything going on but you found yourself complying with Jeonghan’s instructions and keeping quiet. Perhaps because you had too much on your mind.

As nonchalant as you tried to seem, the Chimaera terrified you. It wasn't because it was apparently a big scary monster but because it was seeking you. You were no idiot - you knew that if a creature that powerful wanted to kill you, it could have at many instances when you were being particularly reckless. This one definitely wanted something else from you and the thought of that was more terrifying. What could a monster possibly need from you?

You didn't know. And maybe like most things in your life you wouldn't get to know. Like you didn't get to meet Hestia, or didn't understand why your powers were so different, or didn't know how to cope with the fact that you could never be a mother. It was perhaps just another thing to add to this never ending list.

“Y/n.” Seungcheol's hand on your arm pulled you out of your thoughts. “How many times do I have to ask? Is that the tree?”

You glanced at it and then back at the map and nodded. “Yeah, sorry, that's the one.”

Shifting gears Seungcheol slowed down, turning left like you told him to but to both of your surprise, the road ahead led straight into a forest that was submerged in darkness despite it being so early in the day. Confused, Seungcheol turned on the headlights as he drove ahead but the moment the car moved ahead, the lights turned off.

Frowning, he tried again, only to receive the same result - the lights kept turning off.

Annoyed, he stopped the vehicle, grabbing a rather large lighter from the dashboard and stepped out, opening up the hood. Unbuckling your belt, you followed him.

“Sit inside Y/n.”

“How are you supposed to hold the lighter and fix this thing?” You grabbed the light from him and held it over the engine. “Is there a problem?”

Seungcheol peered at the machinery, frowning. “I don't think so. I don't know why…..” He trailed off like a realisation hit him. “Did you say the tree we crossed was an olive tree?”

“I think it was?” You held out the map for Seungcheol to see. “I can't read Greek.”

“That’s not an olive tree and this isn't any ordinary forest….” He turned to you, both your faces illuminated by the faint light of the fire. “This is the Forest of Nyx, the Goddess of the Night.”

“Is that why the lights won't work?” You whispered, feeling a chill run down your body. “Is that why it's so dark?”

“It's always night at her realm. No light, no Gods, no eyes are allowed here.” He gulped as though he suddenly realised the proximity between the two of you. “No one can see us here.”

You frowned not understanding what he meant when he shut the hood, the headlights surprisingly flaring up again. Before you could even process what was going on, he pulled you up against him, the lighter dropping from your hands due to the sheer force as your body pressed against his.

“Cheol-”

“No one can see us Y/n.” He whispered, eyes drifting to your lips. “No one.”

And in a flash, his mouth was on yours - hot, wanting and desperate.

You gripped his arms, taken aback by the suddenness but when he pulled you closer like he didn't even want air between the two of you, you ran your hands up his chest and neck, threading them into his thick hair. Taking that as a sign of approval, he moved his hands down, briefly squeezing your ass before catching hold of your thighs and lifting you with unsurprising ease, wrapping your legs around his waist. You moaned when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, his hands annoyed by all the armour as though they wanted to rip it out.

It was only when you felt breathless and pulled back that he finally let you go. Looking up at you equally breathless, eyes almost pleading, the words that you'd been dying to hear left his mouth at last.

“Fuck I've wanted this for so long.” He groaned. “I wanted you for so long Y/n, please….”

You gulped, stiffening when you understood what he was begging for.

Choi Seungcheol wanted to sleep with you.

Next Chapter

A/n - aaaaand scene hehe

If you've managed to make it till the end, congratulations, this was a long one, I'm sorry buttttt Cheol enthusiasts (aka everyone) y'all are in for a ride next chapter hehe, stay tuned!

And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

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fantastic-nonsense · 23 days ago

Text

Charting out Shiva's "backstories" (or rather, vaguely implied backstories) throughout the years and how Tate Brombal's new History of Shiva in Batgirl 2024 impacts Shiva, Cass, and their relationship moving forward:

After Batgirl #8's publication today, I thought I'd take a look at what pieces of Shiva's history were previously depicted before now and how Tate Brombal has changed things (or kept them the same)...just to see what he did and didn't do in context of Shiva and Cassandra's history. I have a lot of thoughts on how he's approached this given what little we actually knew about Shiva going in and how messed up Cassandra's own history still is, so let's dive right in!

1975: Denny O'Neil writes Shiva in Richard Dragon as someone who has no backstory. She's here to kick ass, take names, and avenge her sister; her backstory, where and how long she trained for, etc. is irrelevant. Sandra's sister Carolyn is killed by the Swiss in a getaway chase between Richard Dragon and the Swiss, and Shiva comes after Richard because the guy who hired the Swiss convinced her Richard was responsible for it.

The two shreds of Woosan Sisters backstory we do get: 1) Carolyn has an uncle named 'Shiruto', a weapons developer who kills himself rather than reveal his secrets to the Swiss within two pages of his first appearance, and 2) Carolyn goes to school in New York City and is O-Sensei's goddaughter:

"I am Carolyn Woosan...the O-Sensei is my godfather!" -Richard Dragon, Kung-Fu Fighter (1975) #2

This is never elaborated on at any point after this comment and Shiva seemingly does not know who O-Sensei is when she and Richard track him down later in the series. Shiva has several adventures with Richard and Ben Turner within this book but is not mentioned again in the pre-Crisis universe after it ends. Within the actual source material, this is all we get of Shiva.

Then we start getting into the additional information and various changes that occurred post-Crisis:

1987: In the Who's Who in the DC Universe 1987 Update, after Denny O'Neil reintroduced Shiva in The Question, we get a Shiva write-up seemingly indicating that the entirety of Richard Dragon is still canon while also providing a few new shreds of Shiva backstory:

"After being convinced by criminal industrialist Guano Cravat that her sister Carolyn had been slain by Richard Dragon, Sandra Woosan swore to slay her sister's killer. She studied and prepared, taking the name Lady Shiva." ".....before transforming herself into Lady Shiva, Sandra had a basic knowledge of the martial arts. These skills were then honed to near perfection and she is now one of the deadliest fighters in the world." -Who's Who: Update '87

1991: the next Who's Who write-up of Shiva further implies that Richard Dragon is still canon and somewhat explicitly says that Shiva did not start studying martial arts until Carolyn was killed:

"Life presents many different paths and opportunities to a person. Sandra Woosan's life took a destructive path when Guano Cravat, a criminal industrialist, convinced her that martial artist/spy Richard Dragon killed her sister Carolyn. Motivated by revenge, Sandra dedicated her life to mastering the martial arts, hoping one day she could beat Dragon at his own game. Sandra became a master of many forms of combat and confronted Dragon." -Who's Who in the DC Universe (1990) #10

Both the 1987 and 1991 write-ups are extra-canonical material that are not, to my knowledge, mentioned anywhere in-text, and neither were written or directed to be written by Denny O'Neil. But like. They're there and ambiguously canon.

2004: Chuck Dixon writes Richard Dragon, a maxiseries that de-canonizes all previous information in favor of saying that Shiva met Richard at a fighting tournament in Japan while scouting for students. Richard, Ben, and Shiva's histories are all massively fucked up as a result of this maxi. While nothing is explicitly stated about Shiva's history, she mentions offhand near the beginning of the book that she has "unfinished business in Detroit," which leads us to...

2006: Andersen Gabrych writes Shiva in Batgirl as a girl who grew up with her sister Carolyn in Detroit. This is first mentioned in Batgirl #65 and then slightly elaborated on in Batgirl #73, in the process of retconning Shiva to be Cassandra's mother:

"We all knew each other. But there was one time...[Cain and Shiva walk away from a fight. He seems to be telling or asking her something. She shoves him and walks off]...never asked her about it. Me and Sandy weren't tight like that." "Wait. Sandy?" "Oh. Haha! Well, before she annointed herself Lady Shiva, she was just plain old Sandra Wu-San from Detroit." -Batgirl (2000) #65

Sandra and Carolyn are now both martial arts prodigies who trained constantly, fought together, and either a) trounced people on the competition circuit or b) put on fighting exhibitions that everyone came to see, depending on how you read and extrapolate from the two pages of story we get, which is how Cain found her:

"Long ago and far away...in the land of Detroit, lived two sisters. Though as different as night and day, they loved each other deeply. And more than that—they loved to dance. Every moment of the day was spent in lessons. They danced all through the night. They danced so much it became the secret language of sisters. The world had never seen anything like it. People would come from near and far to watch the sisters perform. People like the lonely hunter, Cain." -Batgirl (2000) #73

Cain kills Carolyn to "unleash Sandra's potential." Sandra goes after him in revenge and fails to kill him. Explicit sexual coercion happens (Cain gave her a 'give me a child or die' proposition with a gun to her head), Sandra trains with Cain until she has Cass, and then she goes off to "be reborn" as Shiva.

Batgirl is the first time we get any actual substantive Shiva background in-text post-Crisis. Her time working with Richard and Ben as part of the Kung-Fu Fighter Crew is now extra definitively non-canon, as even beyond Dixon's book there is no way to reconcile Cain killing Carolyn in Detroit with the events of KFF. O-Sensei is similarly not mentioned in any capacity. Carolyn has been slightly revamped from helpless damsel to someone who was theoretically capable but "got in the way." We still see none of it beyond a 7 page fairy tale-esque sequence that does a lot of victim-blaming of Sandra for taking Cain's deal to save her life. Moving on.

2007: Gail Simone writes Shiva in Birds of Prey as someone who may or may not have grown up in an unidentified, purposefully hidden "Southeast Asian village." Regardless of whether she grew up there, that's certainly where she "became Shiva," training under the brutal woman known only as "Mother." Carolyn is not mentioned. Simone implies that the Detroit backstory established in Batgirl is also somewhat true:

"This is the agreement we made. To trade life experiences." ... "Why here, Shiva? I'd heard you grew up in Detroit." "That is only part of the story." -Birds of Prey (1999) #93

However, Simone's new backstory (if taken as true, which is not necessarily the case, because nothing is definitively stated at any point) completely contradicts Gabrych's backstory, as Mother implies that Shiva was raised in the village on multiple occasions:

"Just so you are aware, Tag...at four years of age, she cried out less than you did just now." -Birds of Prey #92

There is also an implied "there must always be a Shiva" element to this backstory, as Sin Lance was being groomed to become Shiva's successor before Dinah dropped in.

Generally, I think a reasonable explanation, given the sequence of canon events, is that you can fit this village into Shiva's post-Crisis backstory if you assume it's where Sandra at least partially trained to become Shiva after leaving Cain and Baby!Cass. So Mother credits herself as Shiva's "mother" because it is where Sandra died and Shiva was born. But that's an assumption and not anything definitively backed up by canon.

Fast forward to...

2015-2018: Cassandra is reintroduced into post-Flashpoint continuity during the events of Batman and Robin Eternal. Shiva is not mentioned. When Shiva does finally appear in Tynion's Detective Comics Rebirth run, her backstory and relationship with Cain is not elaborated on beyond the fact that she "had no idea what David Cain did with her daughter" and wanted to see if Cass was "worth her time." We get one tiny tidbit from Ra's taunting Shiva that hints that the Batgirl-era Detroit backstory is possibly canon, but that's it:

"Sandra Wu-San. Searching so hard to find what she lost back in Detroit. But instead losing more and more of herself until there was nothing left. Nothing but Shiva." -Detective Comics (2016) #956

2019: Bryan Hill writes Shiva in Batman and the Outsiders as someone who now vaguely grew up in a village in China. Apparently this village used to be full of assassins but is now a village of farmers:

"As I recall, you were born in a small Chinese village. Once a place of assassins. Now a land of farmers." -Batman and the Outsiders (2019) #12

There is no elaboration on whether it was still an assassin training ground when Shiva lived there or if it was already a farming village by the time she was born. This is a brand new backstory that completely contradicts Gabrych's Detroit backstory (which had been previously hinted at in Tynion's Tec run) and largely contradicts Simone's possible village backstory...and only Detroit is even remotely reconcilable with Cassandra's New 52 backstory. Shiva also does a complete about-face from Tynion's portrayal of her; she now thinks of Bruce as someone who "took" Cassandra from her and seemingly desperately wants to be a mother to her. This portrayal continues into Batgirls and more recent books.

2022-2023: Che Grayson explicitly names this Chinese village as 'Duoyishu Village' in Batman: Urban Legends #3:

[Location stamp stating 'Duoyishu Village, China'] -Batman: Urban Legends (2021) #3

We have no idea how long the girls lived there with their parents, what their life in the village was like, and no clue what happened in between then and now other than the tidbit that Shiva has very few memories of her childhood and loved her mother's pork belly:

"Memories...you know, I don't remember much from when I was a child." -Urban Legends #3

Grayson also continues the throughline established by Hill in Outsiders and Cloonan/Conrad in Batgirls of Shiva seeing Bruce as someone who "took Cassandra from her" in both this story and the "Memory Lane" Birds of Prey story in Urban Legends #14-16.

Then Kelly Thompson reintroduced Sin Lance in Birds of Prey (2023), largely wholesale; this means that Dinah and Shiva's "life experience swap" arc from Simone's BOP run is canon again...and implicitly, Simone's potential Shiva backstory. We also have Alyssa Wong, who wrote Spirit World (2023) and effectively re-canonized the entirety of Batgirl (2000) in the process. So both Detroit and "Asia" are both actively on the Shiva multiple choice backstory menu; any pre-2004 conceptulization of Sandra as a "normal girl" who never really knew martial arts before Carolyn died? Seemingly off the table.

By this point, the events of Richard Dragon, Kung-Fu Fighter have not been canon since (generously) at least 2004. Shiva now has four largely contradictory origin story hints, three of which are ambiguously canon and none of which have been expanded upon enough to actually say anything useful about Sandra, Carolyn, Cassandra, their relationships with each other, or their collective past. Cass's own backstory is also still a royal mess with all of the nonsense that happened with her between 2006 and 2023.

Cue Batgirl 2024 and Tate Brombal, who for the first time sat down and told Shiva's story in her own words. In this new interpretation, we get a solid mixture of old and new that's been put into a blender:

Ming-Yue and Mei-Xing's parents were a forbidden romance from rival sects, the Blood and the Unburied. They lived as nomads in China, including in Duoyishu Village, until they were killed by Wu Feng (leader of The Blood and the father's brother) in the Tibetan Himalayas. They were then raised and trained by Akhu and a group of monks, hidden away in "a small village in the Himalayas" until the Blood attacked.

After leaving the village post-Blood attack, Mei and Yue traveled the world for a few years, mastering various combat forms and martial arts, and finally landed in in Detroit, where they took the American names Carolyn and Sandra and started putting on exhibition fights. We then get the Batgirl-era backstory of them continuing to dance, fight, and perform for crowds as a travelling act and being seen by Cain.

Brombal then does some timeline shenanigans, making Sandra and Carolyn crimefighters once they meet Richard Dragon and Ben Turner, adding Carolyn to the Kung-Fu fighter team and fully re-canonizing everything from the 1975 Richard Dragon series post-Shiva's introduction (for the first time in 20 years+) so they can all work and chill together before everything goes to shit.

Cain, who has been stalking Sandra for some time, makes a creepy af proposition to her in a dark alley. She refuses. He states that he knew she would, which is why he's already removed Carolyn from the equation. She rushes home, and together with Richard and Ben finds Carolyn dead and left for her to find. And this is where we've left off, with the final part of the story (Shiva and Cain) seemingly left for the final part of this three-part arc.

So. Where does this leave us with Shiva? Well, let's start with a look at what Brombal seemingly took from Shiva's various other canon lore drops:

Shiva was born and at least partially raised in a Chinese village as a young girl before their parents' deaths (Batman and the Outsiders, Urban Legends),

Sandra and Carolyn were raised and taught by Akhu, implied to be the O-Sensei (the man who trained Richard and Ben in Kyoto, Japan), in an unidentified southeast Asian village located somewhere in the Himalayas (possibly calling back to Simone's potential backstory in Birds of Prey). They call him "practically a godfather," calling back to Carolyn's lore drop in RDKFF #2

Sandra and Carolyn lived in Detroit for some time (re: Batgirl #73),

Sandra and Carolyn danced and fought together for years, to the point of being able to work together seamlessly (Batgirl #73)

Cain finding Shiva through Sandra and Carolyn's exhibition matches in Detroit, seeing potential in Sandra and thinking Carolyn holds her back, and killing Carolyn and leaving her body for Sandra to find (Batgirl #73)

The entirety of the events of Richard Dragon, Kung-Fu Fighter (1975) post-Shiva's introduction, excepting the specifics of Carolyn's death (which he takes largely wholesale from Batgirl #73 while changing the timeline so it occurs during the time Sandra was working with Richard and Ben rather than before),

Richard Dragon's name, look, and general pre-O-Sensei backstory from Dixon's Richard Dragon run, with the caveat that all of the nonsense about Ben training Richard got thrown out the window in favor of the OG Richard Dragon interpretation of both Richard and Ben being trained by O-Sensei

……also the Richard/Shiva implications from both the 1975 Richard Dragon run (where it was mostly a couple of jokes Ben makes at Richard's expense) and Dixon's 2004 Richard Dragon maxi (which makes Richard kind of obsessed with her)

And now a look at what's new: Sandra and Carolyn Wu-San not being the girls' birth names, the family history with the Unburied and the Blood, the defined adolesence in the Himalayas, the nomadic life post-China and pre-Detroit, Carolyn being part of the Kung-Fu Fighter crew (+her relationship with Ben), and the timeline shenanigans to re-canonize RDKFF while also keeping Shiva's Batgirl-era backstory intact. Also new: Carolyn having a personality, Sandra and Carolyn's rather complex familial relationship, and Sandra's hunger for vengeance pre-dating Carolyn's murder.

So. What are my thoughts on all of this?

First off, I really love the reinvention of the Kung Fu Fighter crew. It solves a lot of timeline issues, leaves the door open for someone to truly update those stories for the modern day, and fixes 3.5 characters in one go (giving Richard and Ben their proper histories and personalities back, giving Carolyn something to do outside of die in Richard's arms, and giving Shiva her crimefighting era back, inserting the moral ambiguity back into her history rather than making her a flat villain like she has been so often for the past 25 years), so I'm not mad about it at all.

I'm happy Brombal is giving Shiva a life, voice, and perspective outside of 'Shiva The Mother' and 'Shiva the Villain.' Shiva the daughter and Shiva the sister are not things that have ever been explored before! I also genuinely love the work being put in to make Carolyn an actual character, especially the page-time dedicated to showcasing Sandra and Carolyn as two women who have a complex relationship and long history outside of Carolyn's fridging and Sandra becoming Shiva in response. It gives us a real look into why Carolyn's murder was the catalyst for Sandra becoming Shiva, and I think it's a very effective one.

Mei has opinions that put her in conflict with Yue; she's more peace-loving and disciplined in general than Yue, but less willing to keep her head down and look the other way when injustice is happening. She doesn't like combat as much as Yue even though she's better at it. She clearly feels parentified by her mother's last charge to look after her younger sister. She likes boys more and wants to proactively help people and move on from her past in a way that Yue is simply incapable of thinking about. It's a really fascinating glimpse into Carolyn as a person and her relationship with Sandra.

I'm also a huge fan of Brombal seemingly doubling down on unpacking the implications of Cain's "proposition" to Sandra in Batgirl #73 when she tracks him down for revenge and fails to kill him:

"I want what you want. Perfection. To help you meet your target. The power and ability to put the world in its place...vengeance against the man who killed your parents. All I ask for is one thing. For years, I have been developing the perfect weapon, the perfect...killer. But failure after failure has only proven [he touches Sandra's stomach] the importance of good stock." -Batgirl (2024) #8)

He previously implied that Shiva hated Cain and the entire situation surrounding Cass's birth, but that one was a lot more ambiguous:

"I know what I am, and I know you hate it. But that old woman, Ba Bao, she said that there is soft and there is hard. Well, somewhere along the way, I lost my soft, and I now realize it was when I had you. You took all my soft, daughter. I held you in my arms, and I saw it. I saw my sister, too. And perhaps I hated you for it. Perhaps I wanted to hate you for it. To make it easier to leave you with that—that man." -Batgirl (2024) #4

Personally, this is a fantastic and very welcome change in my book. The only time we've ever gotten the story of Shiva and Cain was a victim-blamey 7 page sequence in the last issue of Batgirl (2000), where Shiva implies that she appreciated him "unlocking her potential" as a fighter and "setting her free" from Carolyn despite also explicitly stating that she still missed Carolyn every day. While I don't AGREE with the interpretation that Shiva actually genuinely loved Cain at all and think it's an incredible simplification of what Shiva actually told Cass, it's very easy to walk away with that vibe if you don't dig into it much, so I'm super happy to see a writer willing to actually unpack all that.

We've also never gotten any attempt to deal with the implications of Cass knowing that history, as Cass spent most of that issue fighting Shiva and leaving her for dead dangling over the Lazarus Pit and then the Evil Cass arc happened...so absolutely nothing in that last arc about Cass finding out Shiva was her mom and the origins of how she came to be got unpacked or dealt with. And then her backstory was fucked over during the New 52 (something that still hasn't actually been fixed and dealt with), so she didn't know about it all over again!

Overall I'm mixed on the various childhood stuff, specifically the inclusions of the Unburied and the Blood. It's always fun to see new cool secret warrior groups, especially ones unconnected to the League of Assassins (which modern DC loves to use as an umbrella assassin group instead of 'one among many'), and their inclusion in Shiva's backstory is very obviously a set-up for one of the things that Brombal wants to have Cass deal with moving forward. This is his way of expanding Cass's world beyond Gotham and beyond Nyssa's League of Assassins sect. I think I'm withholding full judgement until I see where he goes with it, and whether my theories that a) the groups will be used to explain Shiva's odd capacity for healing and b) Wu Lin (the Bloodmaster introduced in Batgirl #4) will be revealed to be Shiva's cousin—and Cass's second cousin—actually pan out.

What I'm not a fan of: Sandra having a hunger for vengeance prior to Carolyn's murder, having dream premonitions of Carolyn's death and becoming Shiva, and brazenly dictating all of this history to Cass via a post-mortem diary and saying she trusts her with her life and her vengeance. I do think it defeats the purpose of "Shiva" for it to be an inevitable conclusion for Sandra instead of an avoidable tragedy, and I dislike the concept of Shiva being anything other than in love with danger and in love with living life on the edge during the Kung-Fu Fighter era. While the rest of it certainly has its place in Shiva's life, the jaded perspective and Batgirl-era death wish should have come later, after Cain. I also think she trusts Cass far too much considering their history up to that point, but I'm willing to give some grace on that front since it's a plot device.

Generally speaking, I find that Brombal's Lady Shiva is a Sandra that generally follows from what we've seen of her since 2006, a Lady Shiva that's clearly couched in an attempt to deal with 50 years and three universes worth of history, and a Shiva-and-Cass relationship that encompasses basically the totality of everything that's been done with them since they first met in Batgirl (2000) #7, including the work done since the 2019 Outsiders run.

While that's not necessarily my preferred interpretation of Shiva or her relationship with Cass, it's also not one that Brombal is inventing out of thin air for the sake of a story. He's obviously very well-read on both Shiva and Cass and is trying to reconcile all of the various contradictory aspects of what's been handed to us in canon regarding Shiva's history and her behavior towards Cassandra. This is very difficult considering that 50 years and three continuities have happened since Richard Dragon #5 and Brombal clearly has his own story that he wants to tell with both Shiva and Cass.

I think just like all other previous attempts to tell both Shiva's story and Cass's story....some of it worked, some of it didn't. But overall I generally loved the issue and think it was pretty well done considering what Brombal had to work with. I'm super interested to see how he tackles Cass's reactions to all of this and what impact it has on her perspective of her mother moving forward. The whole 'Mother' arc, after all, was ultimately about Cass trying to reconcile who she thought Shiva was with who Shiva actually is in the context of her own life and history with her, and then setting up a new emotional status quo for both women. And we're finally past the set-up, so I'm really looking forward to the payoff.

#WARNING: VERY LONG POST AHEAD #cassandra cain #sandra wu san #lady shiva #dc comics #wednesday spoilers #dc spoilers #batgirl #cassandra cain meta #lady shiva meta

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sunniedesi · 3 months ago

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The Decay of Andy and Leyley: the bad, the ugly and the terrible

Now that it’s been a while since I finished the Decay route, I think I’m ready to finally analyse this chapter as a whole. I’ve collected my thoughts and read through a couple of people’s opinions here and there… just to be utterly disappointed. I knew casual fans generally didn’t understand much of the subtext for tcoaal, but damn are they completely lost with this one. Maybe it’s the fact that I only interact with a small echo chamber of the fandom that does get it, but after all the terrible takes I’ve had the displeasure of seeing, I think it’s time I leave my own. There is quite a lot to comment on, since this part of Decay builds upon several plot points of the story: the quarantine, the entity, lord unknown, and namely, the main duo’s upbringing and relationship. While I’d love to pick apart every nook and cranny of this episode, this analysis will only focus on Andrew and Ashley’s relationship, as that alone has plenty of things to dissect for one post. I will also comment on some of the changes done to the previous episodes and what that could mean for the next routes. (More below the cut, this will be a long one).

But before I begin anything I want to start with a disclaimer of the obvious; yes, this game is fucked up and the relationship is toxic, horribly so (wow, who would’ve thunk it?). If things weren’t messed up before then they certainly are now, so I understand why nobody would want to touch this game with a ten-foot pole. In fact, I’ve noticed many let’s players who’ve previously played it either not mentioning it or going as far as to delete every video they’ve made on it (not dropping names here but I had a couple of videos in my watch later taken down mere minutes after I saved them because of this). I often see people saying “it’s just fiction” as a defense for talking about this, which is totally valid, but my view of it is a bit different. It is fiction, yes, but also something that could very easily happen in real life and that a lot of people could (unfortunately) relate to. That’s what makes it uncomfortable and gross, and that is exactly the reason why we should talk about it. As per words of the author “although unpleasant, true [CHAOS AND MAYHEM!!!] can only be achieved by unearthing the root cause of one's issues and addressing the underlying decay.” Even if you think it’s icky and gross that doesn’t disqualify it from existing. Moreover, it calls for analysis as to why it makes you feel gross, which might I add is an impulse reaction to something much deeper than a simple “nooo they’re related,” as there are many layers to this from a moral, ethical and psychosexual perspective.

So… let’s talk about it.

The Bad: Andy and Leyley

The beginning of the episode tells us a lot about the upbringing of our characters, though most of it was writing on the wall if you paid attention during episode 2. We play as Andrew, examining his psyche and going through the motions of how to be a walking disappointment. As he cooks, cleans, excels at school and sets order in his family, he accomplishes a level of independence many don’t reach until adulthood, all before the age of 10. Yet every single mistake, as small or out of his control as it may be, is a cause for reprimanding. Renee doesn’t spare the emotional rod with him per se, expecting Andrew to go above and beyond for tasks that she should be responsible for. And whenever her live-in maid complains or dares to set an even playing field, such attempts are crushed by repressing him further into his shell. Berating, insulting, belittling him.

Nothing he does is ever enough, and it can’t be, lest giving him hope of ever meeting others’ expectations, of ever doing better. The more suppression, the less of his independence, say or personality, the easier to control. The less of Andrew the better. And as such, Andy was born: a sorry replacement for Andrew’s essence, easily malleable and capable of becoming everything you want him to be. Many believe Andy is a result of Leyley, but really

Andy was a nightmare of Renee’s own making. And speaking of nightmares, Leyley’s origins aren’t much different. Having a second child as a middle finger to your disapproving family is no good if you don’t intend to raise said child. But what’s the need when Andy is there to do it? Disciplining a kid aching for attention is far too taxing for Renee, especially one with as much attitude as Leyley. So, instead of inflicting more trauma as she’s done with Andy, she lets him pass his own over to her, creating a direct pipeline to the cycle of abuse. It should be noted that in one of the new visions available we see that Renee is an older sister herself, and was expected to also go above and beyond for her sister despite being completely disregarded by her family.

In other words, her treatment of Andy and complete neglect of Leyley are anything but surprising. It’s all she’s ever known. (Not excusing Renee, I hate her with a passion, but it’s important to know where everything is coming from).

Funnily enough, Leyley’s personality isn’t as innate as many believe. It’s easy to see her as the “difficult child,” but in reality, everything she does is a cry for help. We’re dealing with a lonely, undisciplined girl, disregarded by the world as a crybaby and a freak, left to be raised by trash TV and her clueless older brother. The result of this terrible concoction is a self-loathing, marshmallow spine of a boy and a lost, shrieky viper of a girl. Neither can like each other, because they don’t like themselves. And neither can help the other, because they refuse to see themselves for what they are. These are Andy and Leyley, the antagonists of the story.

As much as people have difficulty separating Andy and Leyley from Andrew and Ashley it must be noted that, from a narrative perspective, these are entirely different characters. Andy and Leyley are the immature, worst traits of our main duo personified: Andy is a paranoid pushover garnering resentment every time his buttons are pushed, while Leyley is nothing more than a scared little girl, terrified of abandonment and terrified of change. The more they push and pull, the more they test and bring out the worst in each other, the more they decay. But if these are Andy and Leyley, then who are Andrew and Ashley?

The Ugly: Andrew and Ashley

I believe the cliffhanger route is where we get to see the most of these two, though glimpses of them can be seen in the Shots and Such route. Andrew we know (thanks to his lengthy pov) is a crude and relentless antisocial who can’t stand anyone. He only does so out of keeping appearances, instilled by his mom, but just like her, is incapable of caring for anything. Something Ashley is very quick to point out when they were children.

We also see he’s very manipulative, sly and finds fun in (mentally) messing with people and romanticising the shit of his life, perhaps as a way to feel something other than the misery it bestows upon him. However, not playing nice can only bring trouble, so he hides behind the mask of the innocent pushover (Andy). Needless to say, this is a life full of lies and deception, utterly unsatisfactory. It will never fulfill his true desires and can only push him further into nihilism. But what are his true desires?

Well, to be seen and understood, the one thing no one’s ever bothered to do. No one except the mess of his own making. Ashley, the girl Andrew raised, is full of wit and charm. As seen in the flashbacks, she’s perceptive and quickly calls bullshit whenever she sees it. She doesn’t play nice, she doesn’t put up a front, she’s everything Andrew could be if he wasn’t afraid to show his true colors. This last bit is why I would argue Andrew is so drawn to her, that and of course all of the trauma bonding. As Andrew says himself, his attraction is pathological, i.e. unreasonable and irrational, a result of his loneliness and conditioning from childhood. And as much as I agree that it is paraphilic in nature, I do believe there is a logical side to his attraction; Ashley is loud, obnoxious and annoying. Carefree and unbothered, the flip-side to his Andy facade. In fact, she hates having to keep up appearances and how everyone around her is a phony. For Andrew, the man that has endured years of suppression and self-loathing, it is a relief, it is liberating to have someone just as bad as him. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of him. Someone who could meet him at the same level; an equal.

Continuing with Ashley, one of her most emblematic traits is that she’s self-assured and doesn’t care about anything or anyone except for Andrew. This is quite the contrast to Leyley, who is incredibly insecure, selfish and does not care for Andy, only the reassurance he brings. And how do we know Ashley cares about Andrew if Leyley does not? Well…

This flashback is the single most important piece of information we get from the whole chapter. So let’s analyze it from the start. Julia takes Andrew to visit Nina’s grave, bringing back a slew of emotional turmoil he’s still haunted by. He immediately goes home to unpack it with Ashley.

(because god knows he was thinking about her the whole time he was talking to Julia). Ashley shows her first signs of maturity in the conversation that ensues, accurately pointing out the impending doom of Andrew and Julia’s relationship, and being a little more… introspective.

It’s clear that Leyley’s view of relationships is skewed, to say the least. She barely distinguishes romance from platonic love and has a very childish take of sex being "gross and all men want.” I’ve seen many people, before and after this chapter release, theorize that Ashley is asexual, something that’s always bothered me to no end. It’s one thing to just headcanon a character having “x” sexuality for the sake of it, but here people were using a headcanon to explain a critical part of her characterization, one of her Leyley traits. It is reductive and misguided, not to mention a terrible example of what asexuality would actually look like. Because this isn’t an innate characteristic from Ashley, it is a sign of immaturity, and to a certain degree, also insecurity.

Leyley has been conditioned her entire existence to believe she’s loathsome and undesirable, so anyone sticking around would never be out of their own volition. It would have to be a transaction, give and take. If Andy and Leyley marry it would have to be this way, a selfish exchange on both ends. But as she says: “different is fine, sometimes.” This is Ashley talking, taking into consideration Andrew’s needs for once and for all, which is the reason she made a move after he woke up. She understands his needs and is willing to put out for him, thinking maybe it could be good for her too.

But boy does he fumble hard. Which I don’t blame him for, dude wasn’t in the right headspace at the time. Though this is the moment that set Ashley’s development far, far behind square one. She didn’t take the rejection well. For once she was doing what he wanted, and he pushed her away (mixed signals much). He began being very cold to her afterwards (albeit in a fruitless attempt to repress his feelings, which as we see through the puzzle sequences, the more he crushed his feelings on the outside, the further they spread on the inside). The moment Andrew reached out for her again, a year later might I add, he did it because of Ashley, or rather Leyley, needing to be reprimanded and set on the right track (with the massage parlor job).

This sealed the deal for Ashley that the only way to secure Andrew’s attention was the way that Leyley used to do with Andy: bitch and moan until he pays attention. In other words, it’s Andrew’s fault that Ashley is the way she is… though he’s not entirely aware of it, as seen in parts of his pov. And to a certain extent, Ashley also plays a part into why he’s so apprehensive to the idea of liking her. Her childish nature and refusal to grow up is proof to Andrew that if she were to indulge his desires, it would be to keep him around, but it wouldn’t be reciprocal (which is ultimately what he desires the most).

This is my main takeaway from the cliffhanger route. I won’t be theorising much on what the outcomes for this route could be (more on why later), though I will be referencing this heavily for the analysis of Shots and Such.

Also the symbolism in this scene is quite strong (couldn’t fit it into the previous paragraphs but wanted to bring it up anyway).

Her painted nails are trashy, and Julia's nails are painted. Andrew stares in silence as Julia rings away...

Also:

This is after you destroy the Leyley plushie on the wedding cake scene, to retrieve Ashley's choker (which can later be used to create Andrew's partner... which also grants you a star). Originally, the plushies were watching cartoons, but now that Leyley is gone... something else surfaces. Interestingly enough, if you refuse to destroy it when prompted, the narrator will say "what are you, some Andy?" And if you try again after that, it won't allow to you to tear it apart, saying "you've made your choice." Very strong symbolism there. Let's move onto Shots and Such now.

The Absolutely Terrible: the Decay of Andy and Leyley

A terrible, disgusting, horrifying and necessary ending. Necessary to really discern the differences between Andy/Leyley and Andrew/Ashley, plus why the former will ALWAYS be a pointless, troublesome pairing. They hurt, abuse and tear each other down in the most sadistic and depressive ways possible. Long gone are the days of their playful banter, they are now replaced with just plain ol’ spousal abuse. Even when they try reviving their spark with their quick banter about the vacuums, it is soulless and dry, the damage done to their dynamic far too damming to ignore.

They are never honest with each other, and they’re always afraid and resentful of the other. The only thing keeping them together is codependency and lame sex that sometimes distracts them from how miserable they feel. The one sex scene in this chapter reads like a dagger to the heart, because it is everything neither of them wanted to happen. Andrew yearned for something reciprocal, for him to be seen. And as much as he begs and pleads for Ashley to understand, Leyley’s fear of abandonment overtakes her, diminishing the little trust she had for him and respect she had for herself. As a result, they both hated the encounter, and the only two solutions are ending themselves or committing to a life of such misery.

In the splat ending, we indulge Andy’s desires of ending it all, and Leyley reluctantly follows, scared and unsatisfied until the bitter end, but unwilling to let go of her Andy. In the Shots and Such ending, we indulge Leyley’s fantasies of a forever union, which turn out to be anything but the ideals she had for Andy and Leyley’s marriage. It is more of the same old horrific abuse, dishonesty and bickering over nothing, with maybe one glimpse of honesty forced out by the alcohol every once in a blue moon.

No matter the end, they’re both together forever as Andy and Leyley, dragging each other down into the lowest of levels. It’s pointless and bleak, and it certainly sent the fandom into a frenzy. You think the people defending Andrew “I’m normal” Graves or the people saying Ashley “did nothing wrong” were bad? Well, just as this route brought the worst out of the Graves, it also brought out the worst of these fans.

Every time I look into the comments section of a video or discussions for this chapter, it’s a constant shit-flinging contest of who had the worst upbringing, who has the worst personality, who is the most abusive, (which most people seem to be pointing fingers at Ashley for that one). It’s all blah blah blah who’s the woest of the woe. And worst of all, plenty of men (they’re almost always men) saying “Andrew should beat Ashley up some more.” I understand that Ashley’s worst traits as Leyley were amplified in this chapter, but honestly, men who had that takeaway from this chapter disturb me more than the game itself. Heck, even mother-of-the-year Renee calls bullshit on this:

(context: this is a rhetorical question, the answer being no, obviously.)

Let’s get one thing straight: no character here is worse than the other. They’re both awful, they both beat each other, they both abuse each other and they're both victims of each others’ abuse. The tragedy here is that they are as much victims as they are perpetrators, with no end in sight, because the more one hurts the other, the more retaliation ensues. Characterizing one as the worst is, again, completely reductive and overlooking the point of the ending: nothing gets better because neither got better. We only saw Andy and Leyley in this route, with brief glimpses of Andrew and Ashley, that are quickly crushed by their inability to disengage from their toxic habits.

I think it’s clear to see how Ashley is regressing more into her fears (Leyley), given the threat of being murdered by the only person she has left forced her into that state. She doesn’t want to die, she’s terrified of death, and wants the security she believes Andy will bring her back. Except Andy is the one harboring resentment, as Andrew is the one trying to work past it. And to the people who think we’re playing as Andrew and Leyley in this route because “we chose Andrew,” no we’re not. There’s a reason the beginning of both the Andy and Andrew (shots and such) routes look the same in terms of the area we explore in the demon realm.

There’s a reason why he keeps devolving further and further into resentment for Leyley. The “Andrew” choice means nothing if Ashley refuses to stop being Leyley. And her regression is reinstated by the selfish decision to kill Andrew in the bullets ending (and yes, I’m calling it selfish, since it is once again denying Andrew of his need to be rid of the Andy and Leyley dynamic). This reinforces Andrew’s belief that Leyley doesn’t want him, that his love is one-sided, and that she doesn’t care for his needs. The moment this choice (shooting Andrew) is set in stone it’s game over for both, because one can’t heal without the other. Again, nothing gets better because neither can get better.

The only difference between both routes is that when we pick Andy, Andrew surrenders. He’s hurt, battered and confused, but Andy’s instinctual need to please Leyley reigns above all. He knows it won’t get better, he doesn’t know how to make it better, so to hell with it. If we choose to be Andrew, Andrew never surrenders, insisting there must be a way to fix this, but can’t due to Leyley’s insistence. This leads to Andrew's decay, as he devolves into a mixture of Andy’s resentment boiling over and Andrew’s sadism. The logical part of him (which is Andrew’s lingering care for Ashley) tells him to disengage from the fighting. But his resentment (Andy’s decay) is overpowering his love for her. It gets to the point where both Andy and Andrew become undistinguishable, as they have melded to become his most deranged self. Surprisingly, something similar happens with Ashley, who also struggles to surrender in this route. There are two moments of honesty in the Shots and Such route, the only moments we get to see Andrew and Ashley completely. First is Andrew comforting Ashley’s sobs:

Here, Ashley was actually honest with him for once, which allows both of them to open up. This exchange is much more lighthearted compared to the rest of the route because both are meeting each other at the same level, talking through things together, addressing their happiness and where they want to go. Ashley shines through, taking genuine interest in Andrew’s happiness, but before things can settle…

Ashley must face her fears of freeing Andrew, trusting him. And she doesn’t, because let’s remember, we chose Leyley in this route and let Ashley decay. So once again, things go back to how they were, pointless resentment. There was also a time where Andrew opened up, and that’s when he was drunk out of his mind.

He put his front down, enough to indulge in his paraphilia but not enough to fully express his love. The mixed signals are strong with this one, which further confuses Leyley. However, when they go to sleep that night, Andrew opens up about his needs, about needing Ashley to see him for the mess of a man that he is and still accept him. Ashley takes the stage, reassuring him that she knows all his secrets and loves him regardless. Andrew is honest about why he pushes her away, because it’s the last thread of normalcy he has left. However, things quickly go back to normal, when Leyley refuses to give him a kiss due to all the times he pushed her away. At the end of both of these scenes, we hear a sad music box tune, a sad reminder of how crucial these scenes are. How easily things could be fixed with the care and honesty they warrant, and how easily they fall apart out of simple reluctance and conformity.

This is a constant thread we see in their relationship, throughout flashbacks and present time, as well as symbolisms throughout Burial and Decay. The choice to not only trust, but to be honest with one another despite their fears could’ve been the fix they needed all along, the one thing they needed to mature. Their bond is so fragile, so easily twisted, that the only way to salvage any semblance of tenderness is to address their underlying decay. I find it funny how there are still people (few but still some) who were disappointed to see that Decay wouldn’t be the "normal" route. I read a few comments of people wanting their relationship to be fixed and be a normal sibling dynamic. To which I just have to say, that is way more delusional than the people who expected any routes of this game to be all fluff and rainbows.

The relationship was already screwed from the get-go, but here’s the hard pill to swallow: having a normal relationship is not the fix they need nor want. The paraphilia has consumed Andrew so thoroughly that his only solution is to completely wipe his brain or fully indulge in it (possibly the two routes of episode 4), while Ashley has to let go of her selfish, childish desires to recognize the Andrew she wanted has been there all along if she cares to meet him there. Is it an unsavory solution? Yeah. It’s gross, morally and ethically reprehensible. But that’s just who they are as people. And accepting themselves for who they are is ultimately the last ditch effort they could ever take to salvage this volatile, fragile relationship. I mean, this optional dialogue really puts it best:

(This is the single line of dialogue that actually made me tear up btw, not even the splat/shots and such ending tore into me so much as this line).

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is, at its core, a cautionary tale of generational trauma and the cycle of abuse. How far will people go if pushed to their limits? Is it ever possible to remedy yourself once you’re at the point of no return? And is that remedy worse than the sickness itself? Can the doomed ever be redeemed? And if so, what are the necessary steps to take in order to redeem yourself, before it all goes dark? Andrew and Ashley can keep longing for one another all they want, but until Andy and Leyley are ripped and torn to shreds, neither will improve, and are fated to decay in the coffin of a different apartment, one built out of their own hangups and fears. We’ll see what episode 4 has in store, I trust the author will give us a satisfying conclusion. And speaking of the author…

The Meh: Changes to Episode 2

This new update brought about a couple of changes to the previous episodes as well. Namely, the wording for the decisions that split the story into Burial and Decay, as well as revamping the Burial route. I’ll be honest… I’m not a big fan of some of these.

For starters, this new update made me realize the author, as offline as she appears to be, is keenly aware of people’s opinions of the game and takes quite the contrarian attitude to people who miss the point of the story (something I can’t blame her for entirely, and seems to be the reason why things escalated so much in this chapter). Take for example the Grave Mistakes vision, Andrew explaining why they’re not addressing the Toxisoda thing anymore, and going as far as to add a bloody sprite for Ashley in the Burial route (something a few people were complaining about back in the day). Also, there is an optional dialogue in the highschool flashback that feels like a clapback to the Renee mod:

I’m glad the author is aware of people’s criticisms and takes the time to sort through them, but part of me wishes she didn’t try to over-explain some plot points. The thing that I originally loved about the game was the subtle storytelling, how it takes you a couple of playthroughs to fully understand everything lying beneath the surface. It plays tricks with you and makes you think about the characters’ true intentions, goals and desires, all the way until they spiral out of control and pretenses can’t be kept anymore. I liked that Ashley has a little back and forth between wanting to trust Andrew, being unable to because of her insecurities, and falling back on the trinket. But now…

The choice kinda spells it out for you already. For one, the choice of dialogue feels a bit clunky and also redundant given the next couple of lines confirm this already. The change in the olive branch choice, with it now being reflect/decline, doesn’t bother me as much, but this feels a little too in your face. Same thing with the changes to the Burial vision. I like that you have to put the green plushie back in the cage at the end, as it’s something you also did earlier in the puzzle, so it feels less contradictory. But the change to this line…

It’s honestly giving too much away. People go through the Burial route because they want the siblings to trust each other, and they select the left door for the questionable outcome because they want to make the questionable choice. However that route turns out, whether good or bad, is for us to find out as we play. And mind you, I already know it’s not ending so well given the hex Andrew gets in Burial is the same as in the Decay Andy route. That just cannot be any good. Plus, the fact that Burial is all about burying things under the rug. I suspect that while Decay is more about Andrew due to its reflective nature, Burial will be all about Ashley due to her nature of compartmentalizing. I imagine both Burial and Decay will have their own good and bad routes, but I’d rather not jump the gun into assuming what each will pan out to look like, as chances are I’ll be completely mistaken.

And I say this as a good portion of the fanbase was proven wrong with this new update, in terms of what Decay and Burial are about. The general consensus used to be Burial = romance, Decay = hate. Some fans even came up with the bizarre defense that the game is not so bad because the incest is totally optional! It's on the player to pick it. All the while you have Andrew grabbing Ashley's belt loops and cuddling her on the couch in both routes...

I can appreciate asking people to look at what's beneath the surface and analyze things a little more critically, but that was just plain wrong lol. In the back of my mind, I always hoped that Decay would address some of Andrew's feelings to completely shut down all the "optional" nonsense. Welp, that it did... way more than I anticipated.

Anyway, my point with this last bit of the rant was that I hope these changes don’t become a trend of the author trying to make things clearer for normies or paying any mind to them, as that would only cheapen the storytelling. Those who get the story get it, and if not, they can read people’s shizo analyses online. But I don’t need my hand held throughout the game; I like figuring things out on my own. To wrap things up, I’ll just say I’m very happy with the outcomes we got. They were terrible, but necessary for the reasons explained above. I was originally very scared of the Decay route, as I didn’t know exactly what to expect and angry Andrew scares me. But this has quickly become my favorite episode of all and I can only hope the next ones do it justice. Keep cooking Nemlei, you’re doing good.

#tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #visual novel #andrew graves #ashley graves #hyperanalyzing the shit out of pixels

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mcrveilles · 7 months ago

Text

just this once // ln4

still overwhelmed, still can't believe this this is getting to much attention 😭 ❤️🫶 THANK YOU FOR YOUR FEEDBACK AND YOUR RESPONSES I LOVE EVERY BIT OF IT

also why are my WORDS LIMITED???? I want to write MORE wtf tumblr

word count: 3.7k with some extras in the form of social media posts warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: after things cooled down for a little while, you have to face lando and your feelings once again... this time with consequences.

tag list: @sltwins @sarx164 @hadesnumber1daughter @fullmugwolffish @willowsnook @sageskiesf1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @leclercdream @chezmardybum @landossainz @cloud-55 @sillyfreakfanparty @harrysdimple05 @mwuaferrari @milkysoop

PART FOUR/2 previous part - next part

The sun dips low over the sky, painting it in shades of amber and rose as you finish getting ready. You’ve been pacing your hotel room for the last twenty minutes, debating whether you should even go to this dinner. Max made it sound casual, just friends and some of Lando’s crew, but the way your stomach twists tells you it’s anything but simple.

Since Monaco, things with Lando have been... complicated. He stayed over after Qualifying, the two of you wrapped in an unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. But nothing about the way he looked at you, the way his presence filled your space, felt friendly. Then there was the race—his P4 finish—and the small get-together afterward, where you both acted like nothing had happened. Since then, his schedule’s relentless pace kept you apart, exchanging only a few texts that danced around anything real. Just keeping in touch.

And now, this dinner.

You change into your favorite outfit, something understated but flattering, and force yourself to take a deep breath. It’s just a dinner. You’re friends, you tell yourself.

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yourusername London, United Kingdom

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The restaurant hums with life as you step inside, trailing Max and Pietra. Warm light glints off polished wood and delicate glassware, and the buzz of conversation wraps around you like a soft blanket. You glance at the private room Max mentioned earlier, feeling your pulse quicken. You know who’s waiting there.

When you walk in, the first person you see is him. He’s tipped back in his chair at the head of the table, laughing at something someone said, his grin so easy and familiar it makes your chest ache. Then his eyes land on you, and for a moment, everything else in the room seems to blur.

“About time,” he says, standing up in one smooth motion. His voice is light, teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that sends a spark down your spine. He greets Max with an effortless handshake-hug, Pietra with a peck on the cheek, and then his attention falls to you.

“Stranger,” he says. “Lando,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you raise an eyebrow. His grin tilts, just a little lopsided, and the look in his eyes feels like a challenge.

The dinner is exactly what you expected—good food, great wine, and laughter that fills the space like it’s been waiting for all of you to show up. Max, seated on your right, is in big-brother mode, making sure you try everything and nudging your glass whenever it’s even close to empty. Across from you, Pietra chats animatedly with one of Lando’s friends, and you smile along, but your attention keeps drifting. Lando is at the far end of the table, surrounded by people who hang onto his every word. He’s effortlessly charismatic, telling some story you can’t quite hear, but that has everyone laughing. Except every now and then, his eyes meet yours, just for a second. It’s like he’s checking in, or maybe daring you to look away first.

You don’t.

When he gets up to refill his drink, he passes behind you, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder. The touch is so brief, so casual, that no one else notices. But it sends a shiver through you anyway. “Having fun?” he murmurs, his voice low and private, meant just for you. “Loads,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as heat rises to your cheeks.

His chuckle is soft, almost affectionate, before he moves away. You tell yourself to focus, to ignore the way your heart is beating just a little too fast.

Later, the table splits into smaller conversations, and somehow, Lando ends up next to you. Max is too busy laughing at something Pietra said to notice when Lando leans in, his shoulder brushing yours. “This is torture,” he says under his breath, his knee knocking lightly against yours under the table. Your throat goes dry. “What is?” “You. Wearing this dress.” His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you hold your breath.

You don’t know how to respond, and for a moment, you just sit there, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then Max glances over, and Lando straightens, all easy charm again. “What are you two whispering about?” Max asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Lando doesn’t miss a beat. “Just telling your sister she has terrible taste in wine.”

“Hey!” you protest, and the table laughs. Max shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He drinks that sparkling stuff like it’s water.” The conversation moves on, and you pretend everything is normal, even as Lando’s knee stays pressed against yours under the table. And you don’t move away.

As the laughter around the table flows easily, your own chuckle gets caught in your throat when Lando leans back in his chair, stretching casually, but you don’t miss the way his knee once again brushes against yours under the table. It’s subtle, almost as if he’s testing to see how long he can get away with it without anyone noticing. Your pulse quickens, and you do your best to focus on Pietra, who’s telling an animated story about a mishap at her last work event.

But Lando is… distracting. His words replay in your head on an endless loop—”this is torture”—and you swear you can still feel the ghost of his knee against yours under the table. It’s maddening, really. The ease with which he teases you under Max’s nose, how effortlessly he switches back to joking with the group like he didn’t just upend your entire sense of composure.

You glance his way and catch him smirking, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His focus shifts back to his drink, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—playful yet deliberate—that makes it impossible to ignore him. You try to shake it off. You tell yourself that it’s just Lando being Lando: cheeky, teasing, good at making people feel... something. Just like always. Except this doesn’t feel like always, and that’s the problem. You’re trying to focus on the ongoing conversation. Something about summer plans, maybe? You’re not even sure anymore. Lando is leaning back in his chair again now, one arm draped lazily over the back of his seat, looking every bit like someone who hasn’t a care in the world. But he keeps glancing at you when he thinks no one else will notice.

“Alright,” Max announces suddenly, clapping his hands together as if he’s about to make a grand proclamation. “Drinks back at mine?” There’s a chorus of agreement around the table as chairs start scraping against the floor and people gather their things. You hesitate, glancing at your phone like you might have an excuse to slip away. But before you can concoct some half-hearted reason to head back to the hotel, Pietra loops an arm through yours, effectively trapping you. “You’re coming, right?” although she forms it as a question, you know it’s really not.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out,” you reply lightly, smiling at Pietra. Who, satisfied with your response, let’s go of you to join Max again. Your stomach twists again when you see Lando standing by the door, your coat in his hands, waiting like he has all the time in the world. His curls are a little messy, his grin lazy, yet sharp as his eyes meet yours in the dim light. It’s as if he can sense your hesitation and is daring you to pull away. “Come on, stranger,” he says softly, leaning just close enough that his voice feels like it’s wrapping around you. “Can’t bail now.” You narrow your eyes at him, trying to ignore the way your heart jumps at the way he towers ever so slightly over you. “I didn’t say I was bailing.” “No?” His gaze drops briefly to your phone in your hand, then flicks back up to catch yours. “Good,” he says, his voice dipping lower, quieter. “Because I wasn’t going to let you.”

It’s infuriating how easily he gets under your skin. With a huff of mock-annoyance—because genuine annoyance is impossible when he’s looking at you like that—you slide your arms into the coat he’s still holding and step away before the spark between you burns any brighter.

The group spills out into the cool night air, laughter echoing down the cobblestone street as everyone makes their way toward Max’s flat. Pietra loops her arm through yours again, chatting about some new café she wants to try tomorrow for breakfast. The walk to Max’s place is short, but it feels like an eternity with Lando so close behind you in the group. Every step feels charged, like there’s an invisible string stretched taut between the two of you. You try not to think about what he said earlier—or how his knee pressed against yours, or how warm his hand had been on your shoulder at dinner—but it’s useless. He’s inescapable, even when he isn’t touching you.

When you finally reach Max's apartment, everyone else appears calm and carefree. However, you have come to the realization that you can no longer let Lando do this to you. You don’t know if he isn’t aware of the drama it would cause if Max found out or if he just doesn’t care about the consequences—you however do care about the consequences. While never openly spoken about, you know how your brother would feel about this. He’d hate it. Lando is his best friend and you are his little sister. Two things that, frankly, shouldn’t mingle so close. So you make the decision to talk to Lando tonight.

It’s not like you don’t care or that you don’t feel things when you’re around him, but is acting on it really worth the pain it could and would cause?

Eventually everyone is spread across the living room, laughing and reminiscing, the buzz of good drinks and great music keeping the energy alive. You’re perched on the arm of the couch, balancing your drink as Pietra chats animatedly beside you. Across the room, Lando lounges in a chair, looking infuriatingly relaxed, his attention shifting to you every few minutes. It’s subtle, the way his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, but you feel it—like a spark skittering across your skin. You pretend not to notice, focusing on Pietra's story about her disastrous attempt at paddleboarding last summer. But when Lando catches your eye mid-sentence, raising his brow in a silent tease, your stomach flips.

Max comes in from the kitchen, holding a fresh beer, his presence immediately commanding attention. “Alright, whose idea was it to leave me in charge of snacks?” he announces. “I could barely find some crisps, let alone figure out this sweets situation.”

Pietra groans. “Max, it’s literally all in the cupboard. You just have to put it in some bowls.”

“But that’s where you put them!” Max protests, plopping down beside Pietra. His knee bumps yours, but his focus is on his girlfriend, who shakes her head fondly. Lando seizes the moment to move closer, taking the newly vacated spot on the couch next to you. “You okay there?” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. “Perfectly fine,” you shoot back, matching his tone with a pointed glare. But your attempt at indifference falters when his knee brushes yours—deliberately, you’re sure. “You’re really gonna keep your distance tonight, are you?” he asks, his voice light but carrying that edge of challenge that makes your heart race. “I am sitting next to you,” you counter, swirling your drink for effect. “You’re just mad I’m busy talking to everyone else tonight.” He chuckles softly, the sound brushing against your skin like velvet. “Give it time.”

Before you can respond, Max’s voice cuts through the room. “What are you two whispering about now?” His tone is joking, but there’s a hint of suspicion there that makes you stiffen. “Just telling your sister she needs to get some updated LN4 merch for the weekend,” Lando says smoothly, leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Excuse me?” you retort, feigning outrage. “That stuff is expensive, genius.” The group erupts into laughter, and Max shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Of course, it is. You should stick to the Quadrant merch anyhow.”

"Hey now," Lando protests with a grin, "I'm hurt, Max. Thought we were friends." The conversation shifts, but you can't shake the tension thrumming beneath your skin. Lando's presence beside you is electric, and you're acutely aware of every subtle movement he makes. You try to focus on the others, laughing at the right moments and nodding along, but your mind keeps drifting back to the man next to you. While Lando's quick thinking may have diffused the situation, it only reinforces your resolve to talk to him. You need to set things straight before they spiral out of control.

As the night wears on, you find yourself growing more and more restless. You've been careful to mingle with everyone, pointedly avoiding extended conversations with Lando. But his presence is a constant, hovering at the edge of your awareness. You catch his eye across the room more than once, and each time, that familiar spark ignites in your chest.

Finally, as the party begins to wind down, you see your chance. Lando slips out onto the balcony, and after a moment's hesitation, you follow. The cool night air is a relief after the warmth of the apartment, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting it wash over you. "Thought you might follow me out here," Lando says softly, not turning around. He's leaning against the railing, his profile illuminated by the city lights below. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Lando, we need to talk."

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "I was wondering when you'd say that," he says softly, a hint of resignation in his voice. You step closer, careful to keep some distance between you. The city sprawls below, a tapestry of twinkling lights and distant sounds, but your focus narrows to the man in front of you. The air feels thick with unspoken words and simmering tension.

"This... whatever this is," you begin, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, "it needs to stop." Lando's brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he schools his expression. "What exactly are you referring to?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "The touches. The looks. The... the way you've been pushing boundaries tonight. It's not fair, Lando." Your words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's jaw clenches, a muscle twitching as he processes what you've said. For a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the city below and the muffled laughter from inside.

"Not fair?" Lando repeats, his voice low but charged with emotion. "What's not fair is pretending there's nothing between us." He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. "Do you really want to ignore this? To act like we don't feel anything when we're around each other?" You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart races at his proximity. "Lando, it's not that simple. Max is your best friend, and he's my brother. We can't just—"

"Can't what?" he interrupts, his voice rising slightly. "Can't be honest about how we feel? Can't take a chance on something that could be amazing?"—"Shh!" you hiss, glancing nervously at the sliding glass door. "Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to hear?" Lando runs a hand through his curls, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Maybe I do," he says, though he lowers his voice. "Maybe I'm tired of sneaking around, of pretending I don't want to be near you every second we're in the same room."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to maintain your composure. "It's not just about us," you argue, your voice rising slightly. "What about Max? He's your best friend, Lando. How do you think he'd react?" Lando's eyes flash with a mix of frustration and determination. "I care about Max, you know I do. But I'm not going to let fear of his reaction dictate my life. Or my feelings." You glance nervously towards the sliding glass door, worried that your raised voices might carry inside. The last thing you need is for someone to come investigate. "Please, keep your voice down," you hiss, even as your own emotions threaten to overwhelm you. "No," Lando says, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'm tired of keeping quiet about this. About us." He takes another step closer, close enough that you can smell his cologne, a mixture of citrus and something woody that makes your head spin. His proximity is intoxicating, and you find yourself swaying towards him almost unconsciously.

"Lando," you breathe, your resolve weakening with every passing second. The city lights dance in his eyes, casting shadows across his face that only enhance his features. You can see the determination there, the longing, and it mirrors the ache in your own chest. But he's not listening. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and intense in the city lights. "I can't keep pretending," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Can you?" And before you can answer, before you can even think, he closes the distance between you.

His lips crash against yours, urgent and desperate. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, caught between shock and desire. Then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands find their way to his curls, fingers tangling in the soft strands as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The world narrows to this moment—the taste of him, the warmth of his body, the way your heart threatens to burst from your chest.

It's everything you've been trying to deny, everything you've been afraid to want, distilled into a single, burning instant.

But reality crashes back in like a bucket of ice water, and you jerk away, your eyes wide with panic, breathing hard, your lips tingling and your mind reeling. "We can't," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Lando, we can't do this." Even as every fiber of your being screams to pull him close again. Lando's eyes are wide, his chest heaving as he stares at you, looking as stunned as you feel.

Before he can respond, the sound of the balcony door sliding open makes you both freeze. You take a hasty step back, your heart pounding so loudly you're sure everyone can hear it. Max steps out onto the balcony, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. You and Lando are standing suspiciously close, both of you looking flushed and slightly disheveled. The air between you crackles with tension, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the city below.

"What's going on out here?" Max asks, his tone light but laced with suspicion. His gaze flicks between you and Lando, searching for answers in your expressions. Lando, ever quick on his feet, lets out a low whistle and gestures broadly at the cityscape. "Just admiring the view, mate," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "Can't beat a night like this, can you?" You nod enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "It's gorgeous," you agree, willing your racing heart to slow. "I was just telling Lando how I could stay out here all night."

Max leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The look he gives you is one you've known since childhood—the one that says he's not quite buying what you're selling. "Really?" he drawls. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like you two were having a pretty intense conversation."

You feel your face flush as Max's gaze bores into you, his expression a mixture of concern and growing suspicion. The air on the balcony suddenly feels thick, charged with an uncomfortable tension that even the cool night breeze can't dispel. The city lights twinkle innocently behind you, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. Lando shifts beside you, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, a reminder of what just transpired.

"Max," Lando starts, his voice steady despite the circumstances. But Max holds up a hand, silencing him. "Max," Lando repeats, forcing a laugh that sounds hollow even to your ears. "Mate. We were just..."—"No," Max says, his tone sharp. "I want to hear it from my sister." His gaze locks onto you, and suddenly you feel like you're fifteen again, caught sneaking out to a party. Except this is so much worse.

You take a deep breath, willing your voice not to shake. "Max, it's not—"

"Don't," he interrupts, his eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me. I've seen the way you two have been acting all night. The whispers, the looks. And now I find you out here, alone, looking like..." He gestures vaguely at your disheveled appearance. Your stomach drops as you realize the jig is up. Max's eyes narrow as he looks between you and Lando, taking in your flushed faces, the slight dishevelment of Lando's curls where your fingers had been moments ago.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You can hear the muffled sounds of the party inside, laughter and music that seems to belong to another world entirely. A cool breeze ruffles your hair, carrying with it the scent of the city and the faintest trace of Lando's cologne.

"How long?" Max asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long has this been going on?" You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Lando steps forward, his shoulder brushing yours in a gesture that feels both protective and defiant. "Max," he begins, his voice steady despite the tension thrumming through his body. "It's not what you think."

"Oh really?" Max's laugh is bitter, cutting through the night air like a knife. "Because what I think is that my best friend and my sister have been sneaking around behind my back. Am I wrong?"

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #jto

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fatherbrat · 7 months ago

Text

every bone in your body knows you shouldn’t invite him in.

it’s a good thing you’re thinking with your clit!

kuroo is smirking when you open your front door, that smug all-knowing expression sitting pretty on his face. you barely even manage to get him inside before you’re all over each other.

“missed me?” he breathes between kisses, but you don’t respond, too preoccupied with getting him to your bedroom without losing skin-to-skin contact or bumping into any furniture.

your shirt’s already been discarded somewhere between the living room and the laundry room. his hands are making quick work of unzipping your shorts, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder why you bothered wearing clothes anyways. you both know there’s only one reason you’d invite him over after dark.

when you sit on the edge of your bed you’re annoyed to find him wearing a belt. you pause briefly, silently questioning why he chose to forgo the typical sweats. reading your mind, kuroo explains. “i came straight here from work.” it isn’t until then you notice the black button-up he’s also wearing—the mandated uniform you both share.

it’s the perfect reality check. isn’t this exactly why you had to leave your last serving job? it’s never a good idea to fuck your coworkers. you pull back, resting your hands in your lap.

“this isn’t a good idea. you should go home. i’m sorry i texted.” you glance up at him, only to be surprised at the pitying look he’s giving you.

he kneels in front of you, his unbuckled belt clinking at the movement. all of his previous smugness has been washed away, replaced with a specific kind of anguish. you don’t bother thinking about whether it’s genuine or not. does it matter? his hands find your knees, rubbing gentle circles with each thumb.

“but you texted me for a reason right?” his voice is soft. imploring. desperate.

he’s looking up at you like a starving man, begging for a morsel. he pushes your knees apart gently, stopping halfway and catching your eyes again, a silent plea.

you only hesitate for a moment before nodding. you already fucked this particular coworker. would be a shame to stop now!

he wastes no time, fingers hooking the waistband of your shorts and your underwear almost immediately.

��lift your hips for me, baby.” you obey, and are rewarded with a lingering kiss to your inner thigh.

“i promise i’ll do all the work from here.” another kiss. “just relax, okay?” kiss. “i’m gonna take my time.”

you gasp when his mouth finds your clit, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles. you can feel him smiling against your skin at your reaction, but he doesn’t say anything, just continues his painfully slow ministrations.

you have half a mind to dig your fingers into his hair and yank his face closer. but you don’t, not in the mood for whatever snarky comment he might throw your way in response.

kuroo can sense your impatience before you say anything anyway. your fingertips pressing into his scalp speak volumes. he slips two of his fingers inside you, curling them up against your g-spot.

the sensation has your back arching up off the bed. kuroo doesn’t miss a beat, laying his free hand on your stomach and lowering you back down onto the bed.

his mouth never leaves your cunt, licking and sucking and slurping until that familiar tautness takes over your muscles.

“fuck,” you hiss. “tetsu, i think i’m gonna—“

he already knows. his fingers brush your g-spot one more time before he pulls them out of you and replaces them with his tongue, his nose nudging your clit.

you scream his name as you come, pulling him deeper into your cunt as a stream of fluid erupts from you. you’re all tingly by the time you let him come up for air.

kuroo’s beaming at you when he pulls away, the bottom half his face wet and glistening.

“i love when you do that,” he says, licking his lips as he tugs his pants down.

you roll your eyes as you scoot up the bed, but the action seems tamer than usual post-orgasm. kuroo only smiles wider, shifting his attention to unbuttoning his shirt before he climbs onto the bed with you.

he’s already hard, tapping his tip on your sticky clit. “let’s make a bet.”

you tilt your head to the side and raise an eyebrow. “what kind of bet?”

“if i can make you squirt again tonight, you have to work my shift tomorrow night.”

it takes everything in you not to laugh. “and if you can’t?”

kuroo shrugs. “i’ll work your next shift. and i’ll give you all the tips i make that night. it’ll be like pto.”

he stops tapping, just letting his cock rest against you. the two of you share a look when you twitch. you both know you’re going to lose.

“deal.”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro smut #hq smut #hq x reader #fatherbrat ♱ library #hq #kuroo

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bratbarzal · 2 months ago

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for your valentines event ³⁾ "you've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" "....." "move over, you're lucky i'm hungry." with quinny ❤️

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

"you've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" "....." "move over, you're lucky i'm hungry." with toxic!quinn!!! ALOOF!QUINN TRUTHERS THIS IS YOUR MOMENT!!! this came to me in a fever dream last night tbh and escalated so hope you enjoy once again I took creative liberties with the exact wording (I didn't want it to be too much like the nico blurb) and I'm not sure this fits the vibe of the prompt but I saw I'm hungry and my mind went to one place!! and I don't even think this mentions valentines but what can you do it's may!!! (post requested blurbs within a normal response time you say??? who do you think I am?) I'm not great at writing smut but I did my best and my best is probably taking things too far with random interlinked plot dotted throughout

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut!! the filthy kind tbh - dom!quinn, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, squirting, slight/light/barely even spanking if you want to be dramatic lol, degrading comments maybe, brief mentions of previous sexual encounters, quinn is a menace and a dirty talking tease :) ~cheating but not really it's a first date with no labels that's going nowhere and reader and quinn have history. he's an asshole :) but I'd let him do unspeakable things also

4.7k words!!

The last place you expect to run into Quinn Hughes is in the middle of a bar.

The venue is too crowded to be somewhere he would usually visit - rowdy guys in the corner watching the baseball on the TV, even though you're not sure it's even live, a couple pool tables occupied with the kind of people who would recognise him in a heartbeat - and maybe that's why you chose it in the first place.

But you should have run for the hills the second you saw Elias Petterson and Brock Boeser on your way in. You should have known it would only be a matter of time before Quinn himself showed up, and that you would have no chance of escaping before he saw you.

"Was gonna offer to buy you some fries to share," he comments as he slides into the booth beside you, his eyes assessing the rest of the bar as if he's trying to gauge who might notice him talking to you. "But Petey said you were meeting someone,"

God, he can be such an asshole when he wants to be.

You haven't seen him for weeks, he's been ignoring your texts for weeks, and he can't even look you in the eye?

This is exactly why you keep telling yourself that you're done. This is exactly why when you mention him to your friends, they roll their eyes and tell you to just block his number and move on.

But they haven't seen the parts of him you've seen - the parts you so desperately cling to when he's cold like this.

"I am."

"I don't see anybody."

"He got held up at work."

"Of course he did." he scoffs, "You're being stood up. You're lucky I'm hungry though, I'll save you the embarrassment of sitting here on your own."

"Just because you're an asshole who ghosts girls the second things get serious, it doesn't mean Justin is."

"You don't have to get protective, sweetheart," he purrs, glancing down at you in a way that shouldn't make your throat seize, "Just saying, it's the oldest trick in the book. I was gonna sit with you but if you're gonna be snippy about it, I'm sure Justin will turn up eventually."

Asshole.

You couldn't be more thankful for the buzz of your phone on the table, pulling you from the depths of Quinn's gaze as you glance down, Justin's name flashing on your lock screen.

Quinn quirks a brow as he looks down, too, watching as you swipe into the message.

I'm here.

And then you glance to the entrance of the bar, relief flooding your system at the sight of him - not a sensation you ever thought you'd be feeling when you agreed to meet up with him after months of him asking.

But you're supposed to be getting over Quinn Hughes.

Justin is sweet, and you suppose he's attractive in a cute sort of way. He doesn't make your head spin, or your heart pound, or your stomach swirl into knots, but you're not supposed to want that, so he's the next best thing.

You edge past Quinn without sparing him another glance, hoping it hurts him in some way - hoping he at least feels something at your feigned indifference - and you proceed to spend the rest of your night unable to shift that hope.

Every time you force a laugh at one of Justin's attempts at a joke, you hope Quinn hears it.

Every time you try to flirt, you hope he sees it.

Every time you lean over the table when the two of you move over for a game of pool, you're hoping Quinn's watching.

And you think it must be the karma that comes from craving his attention that has you colliding with somebody else on their way back from the bar, their drink spilling all the way down the front of your top until it sheers out a little, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to go and try clean up.

You really hope he didn't see that.

You're thankful it was vodka soda and not cranberry, the stain easy to shift with a little water and a blast of the hand dryer, and you're shrugging the top back on when you hear the rap of knuckles against the door.

"Yeah, sorry," you call out, shuffling towards the entrance, "I'm finished, it's all y-,"

Quinn stands on the other side of the door when you swing it open, hair astray like he's been running his hands through it endlessly, and his stature imposing.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he crowds into your space, backing up until you’re both in the bathroom, and he’s reaching back to lock the door behind him.

“Told you, I’m hungry,” and the look in his eyes confirms just that - dark and dangerous, a stormy swirl of greys and greens that make your breath stutter, the intensity sweeping straight through you.

He advances on you slowly, your feet stumbling back until you can steady yourself against the bathroom counter, and his gaze drops agonisingly down your body, lingering way too low for any sort of friendly admiration - because that's what he'd said the two of you were too many times to count, just friends.

You feel goosebumps rise as Quinn's head tilts, his eyes meeting yours just as the calloused pads of his fingertips graze the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt.

"You wore this that time we fucked in my car after a game," he mutters, pushing ever so gently until his hand slips beneath the fabric, "Did you think of me when you put it on?"

"No," you gulp, your tone entire unconvincing.

The guys had all gone out after a win, and Quinn had texted you his location - meeting you outside the bar so that the rest of his teammates didn't see you and him together - and had driven you out to some random parking lot, had you crawl over the centre console into his lap, and had pushed this exact skirt up until it bunched at your hips and he could watch himself disappear into you.

It was so hot and sticky that you remember swiping little jagged finger marks against the fog on his window, and you wondered the next day when you saw him and he pretended that none of it happened if he had just wiped them away.

You'd remembered the incident as you were getting dressed, earlier, smoothing your hands down your hips and picturing the way his knuckles whitened as he took the skirt into his grip.

You don't get how he can so easily pretend the two of you are nothing when he remembers, too.

"So you wore it for him?" He doesn't push any higher, but his hand forms an authoritative grip around the back of your thigh, squeezing until they part by instinct, and he uses the leverage to slot his own leg between yours so that you can't fully close them again.

He knows how to work you like it's second nature to him.

He brings his other hand up to shift your hair back over your shoulder, clearing a path from your neck to your collarbone where he can trail his knuckle along the smooth skin just to make you shudder.

You shake your head, again, an unconvincing response, but what else can you do? You're too breathless to speak when he crowds into your space like this, and all you can smell is his cologne, and all you can feel is anticipation of his touch.

"Does he know you like being kissed right here?" His thumb presses down on your pulse point, the pressure firm in a way that makes your spine stiffen, and he tilts his head again as you meet his eye, his smirk condescending and so so sexy.

"We haven't kissed yet," you blink slow, trying to shake the daze he's put you under.

"Ahh," the grin Quinn gives now gives a flash of teeth, and you gulp at the visual it brings - said teeth sinking teasingly into the plush skin of the thigh he's still holding, and it's only then that you notice how his hand has moved, how his fingers are now curled into the leg of your panties. "So he's not taking care of you?" And then he pulls, and you gulp as you feel the fabric fall in his clutch, loosening once they're not flush around your hips anymore and dropping when he's pulled them down enough.

"Quinn," you warn, and he waits, to give him credit - his dark eyes narrowing in on yours, pupils blown, his tongue swiping out against his lips, and it takes you back to another night, a few weeks back.

Quinn turning up at your apartment late, his game having gone into overtime and then a subsequent shootout, and he looked exhausted - hair a mess, eyes sunken, shoulders slumped. The team had lost, and the first place he thought to go was to you, and maybe this was the delusion your friends kept warning you about when it came to him, but it had been the first night things between the two of you had been slower and softer.

The way he kissed you was different - it wasn't a rushed fumble into more, it was intentional and tender, he took his time advancing it into something more, and when he finally backed you into your bedroom, the two of you laid together far beyond the two rounds he managed before tapping out.

He let you stroke at his hair, and kiss at his skin, and see him beyond the cold and unattached version of himself he so often gave to you. And he didn't leave until the next morning.

And sure, that was the last time you saw him, and every text you've sent him since has gone unanswered, entirely, but you can't help but think something changed that night.

Something he doesn't want to acknowledge, now.

A loss of control, or a surrender to his feelings.

You can only hope it's finally the latter.

And because of that blind hope, you can't bring it in yourself to push him away - not if this is the only way he's going to let you have him, teasing and detached.

You swear he sees the moment you give in, when something shifts in his gaze, and he slowly, tormentingly drops to his knees before you.

He looks up at you from the lower position, palms caressing your thighs as he pushes them both up, your skirt following his ministrations and bunching at your hips until you're bare to him, and it's only then that his eyes shift - somehow you feel the intensity of them as much as they stare at your very core than you had when he was looking back up at you.

"Please," you whimper pathetically as he admires the way your legs part even further without prompting, the way your body crumbles and you lean back against the counter, arching to reveal yourself to him entirely.

"Look at you," he mutters as he brings one of his hands to the apex of your thighs, using his fingers to swipe through your folds and pulling them back to show you the sticky mess that now coats them, "So wet, already."

"Quinn,"

"For him?"

You shake your head as he repeats his actions, running his fingers from your entrance and bumping them teasingly against your clit, looking up at you again with a raise of his brow, prompting a further response and pressing lightly at the bundle of nerves until you answer.

"For you," you breathe, your hips stuttering forward to try and increase the pressure - but he knows you too well, anticipates your impatience and lightens his touch even more. "Only you."

"Good girl."

You gasp the second his mouth makes contact with your core - tongue pressing flat between your folds until he can lick a firm stripe upward, his lips closing sloppily around your clit until he sucks it into his mouth, the pressure of his kiss divine and mind-numbing.

Your feet stumble a little against the floor, and he braces his hands against your hips, pulling them firmly against his face so that he can hold you in place, and all you can do to maintain your balance is curl your fingers into his thick hair, pulling and tugging as you please - as he pleases you.

And God, you can't believe you thought you could just give this up. He's so good. So fucking good it's insane. And you really considered leaving things alone with him, for what - some nice guy from work who barely knows how to flirt with you?

Quinn's fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, the pressure firm enough it'll probably bruise by the morning, and he's nipping and licking at your pussy like he can't get enough - the sound of it alone is obscene enough to make your legs feel like jelly, and you're pretty sure you're going to collapse if he carries on like this.

You tug a little harder on his hair until he parts with a wet pop, the sound making your throat go dry so that all you can do is pant down at him in response.

And his eyes are clouded over, entirely, a hunger you've never seen before taking over him. His lips are parted and slick, and his chest is heaving like he was depriving himself of breath, and the sight of it takes your breath away.

You heave yourself up onto the counter behind you, parting your legs again and leaning back a little onto your hands - all without saying a word.

You don't need to say anything, though. Not to Quinn.

He's diving straight back in as soon as you're situated like a man starved, and from where you are now, you can shuffle into him a little, grinding against his tongue as it works against you - works inside you, even, and you slap a hand to your own mouth in a last-ditch attempt to conceal the moans and whines before they carry way beyond the locked door of the bathroom.

Quinn's displeasure with that fact is obvious when he pinches and smacks at the side of your ass, his hand shooting up until his fingers curl around your wrist and he tugs it away from your mouth, pulling away from your pussy to glare up at you from between your legs.

"Don't you dare," he huffs, "I'm putting in the work, I wanna hear how much you like it,"

"But Quinn-,"

The press of his finger into your entrance cuts you off, and the squeaky, surprised moan you let out seems to echo off of every wall, heat creeping up your neck as you hear how pathetic you sound as he pushes the digit all the way in, pressing as far as it will go into your spongey walls until your back is arching and he's straightening up with it still inside you.

"You think you can hide from me?" He asks as he crowds back into your space, your faces level and his other hand coming down onto the counter beside you. "You think I don't know how to make you scream for me?"

He presses another finger into you, and the slow stretch of your walls around him has your eyes fluttering shut, your head lulling forward until it bumps into his, and your clammy foreheads press together. He shakes against you with a dark chuckle, allowing you a moment to adjust until he's thrusting them in and out, stroking up until he presses into your g-spot.

You haven't been with anybody since you were last with him - you haven't been with anybody since you were first with him, however many months ago that is, now - and you're pretty sure he knows that, for as much as he's been teasing you about your date.

"You think you can walk around in this skirt, bending over pool tables, looking this pretty, and I'm just gonna sit back and watch you with another guy?"

"No," you whine, your hips bucking and your hand reaching out to clutch at his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt until you hope they leave a mark, too. You hope there's something left behind to remind him of this tomorrow when he wants to pretend you don't exist, again.

"No, that's right," he patronises, his lips nipping at your jaw when he leans in and brushes the bridge of his nose against your temple. "'Cause you're mine, aren't you?"

You nod frantically, chasing something more from him, as if he could possibly give you anything else - your back arching until he retracts his fingers, ignoring the instant whine you give only to push three inside, your mind going blank at the pressure of it all.

"Oh my God," you throw your head back, giving him access to the front of you, your neck bare all the way down to the low cut of your top, and he takes full advantage of the space.

You can't even bring yourself to care about marks, as stupid as it is to let him touch where someone else might see - and there's a voice in the back of your head that tells you he wouldn't risk it, anyway.

Quinn doesn't want anyone talking, not about you.

He'd rather keep you some dirty secret confined to the back bathroom of a dingy bar, the front seat of his car in the middle of some random parking lot, or the privacy of your apartment on the other side of town.

But that was before Justin, who's voice carries through the thick wood of the bathroom door accompanied by a few bangs and a call out of your name - and Quinn is the first to react, his movements more vigorous and intentional.

You grab at his wrist in some weak attempt to slow him down, but he won't budge, and then you're too consumed by how good it feels to actually get him to stop.

Your jaw goes slack as Justin calls your name again, and you can't move, can't breathe, can't blink without your space being consumed by Quinn.

"Are you good? You've been in here a while, your shirt isn't ruined, right? You can cover up with my jacket if you need to!"

You press your hand to your mouth to try and conceal the moans he's eliciting from you, his pace unrelenting as your eyes go wide, and you hate how much it spurs you on to see him enjoy this.

“Tell him you’ll come in a minute,” Quinn mutters into your ear, his fingers relentless in their movements as they curl inside you, his palm firm against your clit.

“I’ll come-,” you squeak, arching into his touch as his lips press wet, hot kisses into your neck, “I’ll come out in a minute!” You call, a little steadier though still breathless. "It just needs to dry off a bit!"

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Justin calls through the door, and you feel the vibrations of Quinn’s groan into your skin.

“Tell him I’m helping you just fine,” his mouth moves against your jaw, the low hum of his voice carrying all the way down to the base of your spine in a persistent, dizzying vibration. He starts to shake his hand with his fingers still inside you, and the pressure inside you builds to the point you think you might burst, your thighs trembling and your hips stuttering against him. "Go on, tell him you're all taken care of,"

"Tell-," you stutter mindlessly, your only thought to repeat him, not even considering what you're repeating. "I'm-,"

Quinn chuckles darkly against your throat, his teeth nipping into the sensitive flesh - and you swear you can feel him everywhere. He's relentless, he's unforgiving, he's determined to get you to come with Justin on the other side of the door, and you're in no fit position to stop him.

"I'm fine," you call out in one last attempt, praying to whatever god is up there that he finally gets the hint and leaves.

There's no way you can be quiet about this.

"Alright, I'll get you another drink!"

"You're gonna need one, aren't you baby?" Quinn asks, his grin smug and his tone teasing as he parts from your neck, your faces level again as he juts his chin to catch your drooping gaze, the pet name doing little to rouse you from your stupor as he draws you closer to an orgasm. "Gonna make you come so hard it fuckin' drains you," he promises, "Gonna make you walk back out there and sit in a mess in your panties while you talk to him, and all you're gonna think about is this."

"Quinn," you cry out, the mind-numbing pace of his fingers rubbing into your pussy bringing tears to your eyes, and your bottom lip pops out in a pout as you try to chase him for a kiss. "Please, please, please," you beg as he evades you, keeping up the fervour with his hand. You need something to occupy your mouth so you don't scream out, and he hasn't kissed you yet - not tonight, not properly.

"You think you've been good enough for a kiss?" he taunts, his fingers curling inside you just when you're at the brink, "You think that a naughty girl who's letting me fill her pussy with her date standing just outside deserves a kiss?"

"Yes," you whine, "Quinn," and plead, and you bat your lashes in one final attempt at convincing him, your eyes watering, lips trembling, spine tingling as he considers it for a brief moment.

"Come," he commands, "And then I'll kiss you."

You groan, throwing your head back as he brings his other hand into the mix, swiping at your clit with a feverish speed until you really feel like you're about to scream, gripping onto him for dear life as his three fingers plunge all the way into you, to the bottom of his knuckles, his touch pressing against the deepest part of your core until you fall apart.

And it's a mess.

The counter becomes slippery beneath you, your thighs coated in your own slick, and the way you hear Quinn remove his fingers makes you wince more than the feeling, itself.

He's still looking down at your pussy when your vision comes to, blinking away the white spots in your eyes until all you can see is him - in a daze at the way you can feel your walls contracting still, missing the way he had them filled just seconds ago.

You think you're shaking all over, too weak to move - to lift yourself onto your legs, to even lift your arms to do anything about how bare you are to his hungry glare - and you're struggling a little to catch your breath, if you're honest.

You feel hot all over, too. In your head, on every visible surface of your skin - and you can't tell if the flush is from the physical activity or the sheer mortification of the fact you just squirted in front of him.

Your last shred of dignity probably disappeared as soon as that drink fell into your lap, there's no use in denying it now.

And just as he said, Quinn bends to retrieve your panties from where they hang from one of your ankles, bending your leg to slip it in the other side and pulling them up until you can shimmy your hips into them despite how wet you feel all over. He puts one hand down beside you on the counter once they're in place, his gaze lifting to meet yours, a little lighter but stormy, nonetheless, a million unspoken thoughts swirling behind those cloudy irises.

"You said you'd kiss me," you mumble, feebly, leaning into his touch when he pushes a strand of hair back out of your face.

"Did I?" he smirks slowly, those same eyes now tracing your lips.

You nod, your tongue swiping out against them in preparation.

He hums, teasing as he leans in, and he brings his free hand up to your mouth, hooking one of the fingers that had just been inside you against your lips until they part, pushing the digit in until it's pressed against your tongue, and you close your lips around it by instinct.

He watches as your cheeks hollow, satisfaction in his stare, and the slight upturn of his lips causes your chest to puff with pride, opening your mouth again so that he can slot the other two fingers in.

"Maybe you are a good girl," he mutters, and you nod, humming around the taste of your own release until he pulls his fingers out with a pop, using them to grasp at your chin and pulling you forward until your lips collide.

It's almost like he's trying to chase the taste of you, his tongue licking into your mouth and then he's actually sucking at yours, your hands clutching at the chest of his shirt to keep him close, letting him do whatever he wants for as long as he wants, because you're trying to get your fill.

Him using you like this seems better than the alternative - him ghosting your for days or weeks at a time, making you feel like you don't matter to him in the way he matters to you, or that he'll never feel the same way.

But there's something desperate in the way he kisses you - you think that's why he tries to deprive you of it, like you'll be able to read him through the taste on his tongue.

And you get a little greedy with his affections, probably, your hands sliding down until they meet his belt, and he pulls away before you even realise, stepping back completely so that you can't reach and running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Or maybe not."

"I just thought-,"

"You really are naughty, huh?" he chuckles, "What were you gonna do, make him wait out there all night while you tug at my cock? Get on your knees for me while your sweet little boyfriend buys you drinks and sits alone?"

"No," you pout, "He's not my boyfriend, he's just a guy from work."

"Just a guy you're using to make me jealous."

"Don't flatter yourself," you scoff, suddenly finding the nerve to stand up to him - the smirk he sends your way a touch too deep, and lasting a second too long. "I didn't even know you'd be here. Not everything is about you."

"Not what you were saying when my face was just between your legs." He shrugs as he takes another step back, and the grin you found so sexy mere minutes ago now makes you want to smack him as you watch him retreat. "I'll see you around, pretty girl, don't forget to clean up after yourself before you go back out for your date."

He winks before he leaves completely, leaving you alone in your own sticky mess, feeling dirty and used just like you always do when he disappears.

You find yourself wishing he stayed as you shuffle completely off the counter, pushing your skirt back down and grabbing some paper towels to clean the spot you were just sat on.

He'd stayed that night in your apartment, and you really thought things might change after.

But you should know by now things will never change with Quinn.

Especially when you head back out into the bar and find him speaking to Justin, shaking his hand with the exact same one he'd just used to bring you to a screeching orgasm, a crooked smirk stretching across his lips as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he leaves for the night.

Especially when he texts you moments after, your screen flashing with his name until you press through and read, He'll never be good enough for you.

And especially when you're answering the door of your apartment to him again a week later, falling back into the same pattern and letting him charm his way back in, no matter how shitty you feel when he disappears afterwards.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #the fact that the middle pic is barzy kills me every time lmao #Pinterest boyfriend to his core #me writing smut is mental work honestly be kind to me lmao #this is so far removed from anything I've ever posted idek who I am #*writing #.ve #💌.valentinesevent

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