#what in the world could possibly be wrong with getting attached to you and talking to you not only months after i've made it clear >>

[slimyenemy]

only curses are real booOoO

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Where You Belong

Prompt: you're caught in the middle of a tornado, tyler's there in the aftermath.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: angst, blood mention

A/N: surprise surprise, & not what i usually write, but twisters has recently been consuming my entire life. so here's an angsty lil imagine of hurt reader being comforted by the wrangler himself.

You made it about fifteen minutes down the road before you realized that you’d forgotten your phone… Again. 

After patting down your pockets and digging through your tote bag the best you could without crashing the car– you straightened yourself in the driver’s seat and sighed defeatedly. 

Stupid, you thought. Although you weren’t really that surprised by your mistake. You’d never been particularly attached to your phone, and this certainly wasn’t the first time you’d left it behind. 

But you’d been trying to be more mindful about remembering it. And just like that, Tyler’s voice popped into your head– no doubt scolding you for your carelessness. ‘What if something happened and I had to get a hold of ya?’ 

Thanks to another wild storm system brewing all over the midwest, Tyler was out chasing again today. And although you’d checked in on him earlier in the day, you knew there was always the possibility that things changed. Storms shifted– gained power, sometimes his team (although rarely) got things wrong. A pang of guilt spread through your chest at the thought– what if something happened to him out there and he needed to reach you? 

You could turn back and get your phone, of course. But you were already so close to town. And all you needed was a bottle of shampoo and a birthday cake for Tyler. You could be in and out of Lawton in less than half an hour if you were quick– home before he even knew you’d left your phone behind again.

What could really go wrong?

…

“Talk to me, Dani– what do you see?” Tyler asked into the walkie. They’d been tracking a handful of storms for the past few hours– Tyler watching the clouds, and Dani studying the radar. Right now, there were two that had peaked his interest– One was formulating south, the other to the northeast. 

“The storm south has higher wind speeds, but I think it’ll fade if it shifts. The other one has a weaker wind shear, but higher pressure. Either one has the chance to form or go, so I say trust your gut,” they answered.  

Tyler shifted his grip on the steering wheel, studying the dark, circling motion in the distance. 

“What’re you thinkin’, T?” Boone asked, camera trained on Tyler. 

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip– trying to focus.

“Less moisture, less potential for an updraft, but way higher winds if we go south. Northeast though… she’s already got the motion and momentum, she just needs the winds to shift...” 

Boone stayed quiet– he knew that when Tyler talked out loud, it was generally rhetorical. 

Tyler took his eyes off the sky to study the world around him for a moment. 

“No pressure, T,” Dani said through the walkie. 

“Yeah,” Lilly chimed in. “We just spent all damn day chasing these things–”

“South,” he said suddenly. “I say let’s chase south.”

…

Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was standing in the middle of a wheat field with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 

The storm had fizzled with the shifting winds, leaving them with nothing but a few scattered showers that mixed in with the sweat already pooling on his skin. 

“S’alright, T,” Boone said encouragingly with a shrug. He clapped him on the back. “We can’t catch ‘em all.”

Tyler sighed before joining Dani where they sat on the edge of the truck, scanning for other potential storms in the area. 

“What’s that there?” Tyler asked, pointing to what appeared to be a storm system heading west. 

Dani frowned. “What the hell… I think that’s the storm from earlier– the one moving northeast.”

“So it shifted?” 

“Shifted?” Boone said, lowering his camera for a moment to glance towards Tyler. “Where to? Can we make it in time?”

Tyler frowned, studying the movement. 

“That’s strange,” Dani mumbled under their breath. With a few clicks, they expanded the screen, showing a wider radius.

“What’s strange?” Boone asked.

Ignoring him, Tyler scanned the system, trying to trace the path without actually calculating it. “You don’t think–” 

Dani glanced his way. “Holy shit–”

“Hello?” Boone said. “Y’all gonna share with the rest of the class?” 

“I think she’s headin’ for Lawton,” Dani finally whispered. 

And although he’d been thinking it, all the color drained from his face when it was actually spoken out loud.

“Lawton?” Dexter asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Oh shit-” Lilly whispered.  

Lawton was the closest city to where the two of you lived– if it hit there, thousands of people could be in danger. And if it shifted again, even the slightest bit– it could head right for your small town instead.  

Despite the humidity, everything inside of Tyler went cold as he imagined you at home– puttering around the garden, blissfully unaware of what might be coming. 

“Will you uh, pass me– pass me my phone, Boone?” Tyler stammered, standing up from the truck bed. 

Boone reached into the backpack scattered near his feet and handed over Tyler’s cell phone, placing it in his outstretched hand. Tyler muttered a quick thank you before walking a few strides away as he pulled up your contact information.  

The call rang five times before making it to voicemail– your sweet voice asking him to leave a message and you’d get back to him. 

“Hey, baby– it’s me. Call me back as soon as you can. Alright, love ya.”

He clicked the phone off before immediately trying again. 

“C’mon,” he muttered as the line continued to ring. “C’mon, baby, c’mon,” he hummed nervously, kicking the grass with his boots when he heard your voicemail. “Hey– me again. Listen, I’m not trying to scare ya, but there might be a storm comin’ and I just wanna make sure you’re safe. Give me a call please.”

He paced back towards the group, sending you a quick text just for good measure as he did. 

“Alright, what’s the plan here?” Dexter asked. 

But Tyler wasn’t paying much attention as he obsessively dialed you for a third time. 

“What’s wrong, T?” Boone wondered. 

Without looking up from his phone, Tyler exhaled a frustrated breath. “She’s never got her damn phone on her– that’s what’s wrong.” The second he heard your voicemail for a fourth time, he chucked his phone towards his bag. “Damnit!” 

Boone swallowed thickly. “I’m sure she’s fine–”

Tyler hung his head. After a moment, he nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that would remain the case if he didn’t get in touch with you fast. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to breathe– 

You were fine, he told himself. You were home, you’d hear the alerts if they were necessary, you knew to get into the basement. 

Tyler took a long, steadying breath. “Dani, what’s the speed of this thing?” 

“Uh, it’s moving– thirty-five miles per hour directly west. I think she’s gaining speed, though.”

“Alright, she’s fast,” Tyler remarked. “We have to be faster. Let’s head home, ladies and gents, we can take cover at my place once I know everyone’s safe.”

“You got it, T,” Lilly said. 

“Stay safe everyone,” Dani replied as they all dispersed to their respective vehicles. 

Tyler and Boone climbed back into the truck, tires screeching as they sped west towards Lawton, and home towards you. 

…

You were inside the bakery on Lowell Street– Tyler’s favorite place for any and all pastries, when you heard the thunder. 

Although thunder in Oklahoma wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, it was enough to make you turn your attention outside, just to see what kind of storm you might be up against on the drive home. 

“It’s gettin’ dark out there,” Gloria, the owner, said. She glanced at you over the counter and blew a strand of graying hair out of her face. 

You nodded in agreement, jumping slightly when another crack of thunder rang through the air. “Sounds like it’s getting closer,” you noticed. 

“I still can’t believe that boyfriend of yours goes out of his way to chase these storms. And his friends, too.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, me either. Bunch of adrenaline junkies.”

“Not me,” Gloria smirked. “We get enough chaos in this life, I don’t need to be chasin’ it.”

You returned her smile, recognizing that you might have more in common with the sixty-something year old baker in town than you did your own boyfriend. But you supposed that your differences were what drew you to Tyler. He was brave and thrilling and so alive. Although what he did scared the absolute shit out of you, there was nothing better than watching him exude excitement and just pure joy after he got home from a particularly powerful storm. 

“Was he and his crew trackin’ anything out here?” Gloria asked, using the tube of blue icing to write the birthday message you’d requested on top of Tyler’s cake. 

“Not here,” you replied. “He was south of OKC last I checked in.”

Which, you realized, had been far longer than you anticipated thanks to not having your phone. You mentally kicked yourself again for leaving it behind. If you’d brought it with you, you could have just given him a call now. Because unless he was smack dab in the middle of a goddamn tornado, he always answered your calls. Just a few reassurances from him could’ve calmed your fears about the storm brewing outside– told you that it was just a thunderstorm passing through. 

Not every thunderstorm means a tornado, he had said, you didn’t even know how many times by now. And each time allowed you to relax a little. Because unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t enjoy weather in quite the same way. In fact, after an EF4 had ripped through your home when you were just a child, you did your best to stay as far from tornadoes as Oklahoma allowed. 

“I’m sure it’s just thunder,” you began. 

But before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sudden pitter patter of hail beginning outside. Gloria lowered the icing tube while you took another step closer to the window to peer out. 

Dark, gloomy clouds swirled through the sky. 

That was when you heard the sirens. Loud and clear, they echoed through your ears in a terrifying, grim warning. 

…

As the storm tracked faster and faster the closer they got, Tyler’s first stop was your shared home just outside of Lawton. 

He didn’t even bother turning the truck off before he was hurling himself across the lawn, towards the front door. But before he even looked inside, his stomach dropped when he noticed your SUV wasn’t parked in its typical spot. 

Regardless, he practically ripped open the front door before running into the house, calling your name loudly into each room he searched, hoping that maybe you’d lent your car to your mom again– or magically parked it in the garage that was stuffed full of his gear. 

But it was no use– you weren’t there. 

He knew that for good as soon as he flung open the door to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly– and your phone sitting on the nightstand table, plugged in and clearly far away from you. 

“Damnit!” he yelled, kicking the door frame frustratedly. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Frustration and anger brewed inside of him, but he knew that underneath all of that was fear– for you and your safety. All he wanted was to have you in his sights again– although preferably wrapped up in his embrace, the only spot he could ensure you were safe... Where you belonged.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Tyler made his way across the room and picked your phone up from the nightstand. Your background– a picture of you and him taken during your trip to Texas last year, lit up the screen. Accompanying it were the slew of notifications you’d missed– the first was the severe weather alert, the next few were all the missed calls from him. But at the very bottom of your screen was a reminder notification– one that allowed him to finally exhale the breath he’d been holding since he burst into the house. 

Get Tyler a bday cake. 

Sliding your phone into his back pocket, he raced back down the stairs to find Boone standing on the front lawn. 

“She’s in town,” he said, rushing towards his truck. 

Boone followed close behind. “How do you know?”

“If nothing else,” Tyler said, climbing into his truck, “she follows her schedule.”

…

“Gloria, you gotta listen to me–” you pleaded, hurrying around the counter to grab her hand. “If the sirens are goin’ off, it means we don’t have much time. Does the bakery have a basement, or– or a shelter?”

Gloria’s watery eyes met yours. Your heart sank the moment she shook her head dreadfully. 

“Okay,” you said shakily, trying not to panic. What would Tyler do? You looked around the bakery– with its old walls and sagging roof, you knew it wasn’t safe to stay here. 

“Gloria, we gotta go,” you said urgently. “We gotta find somewhere safe to be.”

With that, you tugged her towards the exit. 

As soon as you were outside, you felt the fierce wind whip your face, along with a few staggering pieces of hail. There was debris– leaves and sticks flying around in every which way, making it hard to see past what was right in front of you. 

Although you were trying to be vigilant, you didn’t even see the scrap of metal fly by your face.  “Shit!” you exclaimed, feeling it graze your cheek. Ripped skin was quickly followed by the feeling of warm blood trickling across your skin. 

“Are you alright?” Gloria asked, grabbing your arm. 

You used your free hand to press against your cheek before nodding. “We gotta get out of here,” you said. 

But just as you turned to try and gauge your surroundings, hoping to come up with a shred of a plan, you froze at what was looming in the distance. 

Winds whipped rapidly, the sky boomed, and a dark, wide funnel had formed– it’s tip already touching down on the ground. And it was coming straight for you. 

“Gloria, we gotta go–” you cried. “Now!” 

…

Tyler drove as fast as he could– foot nearly pressed down on the ground. He drove like his life depended on it. Because yours did– 

The truth was– he’d never given much thought to losing you. He was generally too preoccupied with wondering what you’d do if you lost him. He was the one putting himself in danger all the time, he was the one forcing his way in the middle of these storms. 

He didn’t know what he’d do without you– except be a shell of who he was now. 

“Holy shit–” he heard Boone say from the passenger seat. 

Tyler refocused his attention ahead, his eyes widening the second he saw what Boone was fixated on. 

It was hard to miss the giant, fucking tornado barreling right for Lawton’s array of buildings. 

“We’re too late–” Tyler croaked. “We’re too fucking late–”

“She’s smart,” Boone assured Tyler. “She knows where to go and what to do.”

Tyler’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drove faster. 

…

In retrospect, the laundromat probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. But there were few windows and the back room was lined with secure piping, all which jetted deeply into the ground, creating a solid anchoring point. 

There were a few other people huddled in the same room, already low on the ground and clutching onto one another. 

“Hold on to that!” you cried, practically pushing Gloria towards the corner of the room. She wound her frail arms around the piping before crouching down. You were right beside her, arms locked tightly on the piping as you felt the building start to shake. 

The storm outside was deafening. Winds whistled and boomed. You were pretty sure the woman beside you was screaming– but you couldn’t hear her above the noise of everything else. You tried to be brave– the way you knew Tyler would be if he were here. 

Once, about three years ago, an EF3 hit his parent’s ranch while the two of you were staying there for a long weekend. You remembered the way he stayed so calm, so collected through it all. After ushering everyone into the storm shelter, he wrapped his strong arms around you, anchoring you to him. The ranch didn’t shake like this though… And even though you’d been scared that night, it paled in comparison to what you felt now. 

This building was weak– the structure was unsound. You had no idea how close the tornado actually was, but you knew this thing wasn’t going to stay put. It was just a matter of if the pipes went deep enough into the ground and if you could hold on to them. Because you didn’t have Tyler holding on for you this time. 

You hoped he was somewhere safe– maybe tracking the storm that was about to kill you from a reasonable distance. 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you told Gloria, sweaty palms making your grip slip. “Just hold on–” 

The building began to shake harder– the very foundation rocking beneath you. Shortly after, pieces of the roof began tearing off, exposing the thunderous storm raging above. 

“I don’t–” Gloria cried. “I don’t think I can hold on!”

You tried loosening your own grip– hoping you could wrap your arms around her like Tyler had done for you before, or do something to help. But then you heard another ear splitting roar, and suddenly, the entire roof was being ripped off from the building. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough– 

“Hold on!” you screamed, tucking your head into your elbow and squeezing your eyes shut. “Just a little longer!” 

But as the words left your lips, even you didn’t believe them. 

…

By the time they finally reached town, the tornado had already moved on. 

Part of the reason why Tyler loved tornados so much was their power and speed. In his eyes– it was nothing short of an act of God to see what damage a simple funnel of wind could do in just a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. 

Until he was faced with the inevitable tragedy of it all. 

Because it was one thing to see trees uprooted, or tractors rolled over. It was another to see an entire town had succumbed to a pile of debris– vehicles thrown this way and that– metal and siding and bricks scattered over every inch of the flat land– To know that people, his friends, his neighbors, you could be buried underneath piles of rubble– bodies broken and bleeding and hurt if they were lucky enough to be alive at all.

Tyler brought his truck to a screeching halt, not even hesitating before he was ripping off his seatbelt and hurling himself out of his seat. The second his boots hit the mud, he screamed your name as loud as he could. 

Eyes whipping around, he tried to process the scene before him. But it was hard to gauge where anything used to be– there was practically nothing left. 

“Tyler!” he heard someone scream in the distance. Head whipping to the side, he saw Lilly, waving her arms frantically. 

For a moment, Tyler let himself get his hopes up. He raced across the distance between them as fast as he could, despite all the obstacles in his way. But when he finally reached her, he was devastated to see that you weren’t there at all. Instead, Lilly was staring at a vehicle, flipped over and crunched like it’d been hit head-on by an 18-wheeler. 

And although it was damaged beyond repair, Tyler recognized it as yours immediately. 

He felt his chest tighten. “Christ–” he stammered, unable to fight back the tears burning behind his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair before hunching over, hoping the motion would allow him to finally catch his breath.

“Oh God,” he panted. “God, no– please, no–”

“She might not have been in it,” Lilly said quickly. 

But Tyler barely heard her. He was too fixated on the pounding in his ears–  

A wave of hopelessness washed over him, flooding his insides. He was too late– he couldn’t save you– he was too fucking late. 

“We’re gonna find her, T,” Boone’s voice was suddenly peaking through the fog. 

“Yeah, we won’t stop until we do,” Dani added. 

Tyler forced himself to take a few, steadying breaths. When he could, he straightened his back and glanced around. 

His whole team hadn’t given up on you. 

Neither could he. 

…

When you finally gained the courage to open your eyes, you were met by a fierce brightness. You coughed– lungs heaving as you struggled to breathe. 

“Gloria?” you tried to speak. “Are you okay?” 

You were met by an eerie silence– the calm after the storm. Blinking harshly a few times, you tried to gather up enough strength to sit up. But as soon as you did, you had a chance to look around… And boy, do you wish you hadn’t. 

There was nothing left– the entire town was gone… destroyed, buried in rubble and debris. 

“Gloria?” you called, groaning as you pushed the thick layer of roofing off from your legs. You grimaced once you saw the deep gash down the side of your thigh, oozing blood. 

Breath shuddering, you continued to scan the area– trying to wrack your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do next. The second you moved to turn your head, you winced, vision blurring. Slowly, you grazed along your forehead with your fingertips. When you pulled them away, you grimaced to see them coated in crimson liquid. 

You stared at it for far too long– unsure what else to do. You were hurt– probably worse than it felt, too if adrenaline had anything to say about it. You didn’t know if you could walk on your leg, or if you’d pass out the second you tried to stand up. 

You felt hopeless– completely and utterly alone. 

Until you faintly heard the sound of your name being called in the distance. 

It was enough to make you snap out of your trance, head whipping around to see Boone throwing aside a piece of siding. He called out a second time before turning and locking eyes with you from across the way. 

“Boone,” you said under your breath, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real. Because if Boone was here– calling out for you, that meant Tyler couldn’t be far behind. 

Boone yelled your name again before turning. “I found her!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Over here!” 

You fought back the guilt you felt for still not finding Gloria and moved to stand on shaky legs. 

“I’ll come back for you,” you promised her. 

Wobbly and weak, you limped towards him, trying your best not to fall in the cracks and crevices beneath the debris. You looked down, intending to watch your step, but instead you caught a glimpse of your leg and all the blood now coating your entire thigh and calf. Just the sight of it made you lose your balance. 

“Shit,” you gasped, as you landed harshly on the ground. You looked back up and saw Boone heading your way– only fifty yards or so from you. But then– right behind Boone, was a sight that made everything else melt away. 

“Tyler,” you exhaled, like it was a prayer tumbling from your lips. 

His long legs moved fast– practically running despite everything in his way. 

He’d make it to you– he’d get you. But if you got up and kept moving… he’d get there sooner. So, with whatever you had left inside of you, you pushed yourself up. Ignoring the pounding in your head and the throbbing in your leg, you limped forward. 

“Tyler,” you said again– not loud enough for anyone else to hear. It was like you just needed a reminder that really was right there. “Tyler–” this time, when his name tumbled from your lips, it came out as a sob– every emotion inside of you bubbling to the surface of your skin. Tears slipped down your cheeks, your vision blurred. 

He was so close now– you could hear the rubble shift as he stepped on it. 

He called your name… and God, if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. 

“Tyler–” you cried again, throat choked from dust and tears. 

And then, just like that, his body was colliding with yours. Arms winding tightly around your shoulders, a familiar scent enveloping you, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, anchoring you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, face buried in his button down shirt. 

“Oh, God,” he whispered above you, lips grazing the side of your head. “I got you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out– only a guttural, uncontrollable sob that made him hold you tighter. 

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered into your hair. 

“Tyler–” was all you managed to choke out. 

His thumb trailed up and down your hair, matted with mud and your own blood. “I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.” 

He held you tight, steadying your shaky frame. It was like he was the one thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Which was why your body almost recoiled when he finally pulled away. You needed him wrapped around you like that forever. 

You tried to resist, to pull him back, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. All you could do was stand there weakly while his wild, concerned eyes scanned the length of you. 

“I’m fine–” you tried to say. 

But he shook his head instantly. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt, we gotta get you out of here. Get an ambulance!” he yelled to Boone, who was lingering nearby, looking like he didn’t quite know how to help. Boone nodded instantly before hurrying off. 

“Tyler–” 

“Okay, I see the leg– what else?” he asked. “What else hurts?”

“My head,” you whimpered. “And my ribs–” you admitted, although you hadn’t quite managed to look at those yet. “But Tyler–” 

Before you could finish, Tyler’s hand gripped the hem of your tank top, pulling it up slightly. You winced as the fabric brushed over your ribs. But when Tyler pressed a hand on the bare skin, you almost screamed out in pain. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I gotta look though, baby. I gotta check it.”

You nodded, fingers squeezing the fabric of his shirt as he did. The pain was excruciating– enough to make your already-dizzy head start to spin. 

“I think they’re broken– at least a couple. Can’t say for certain.”

“Tyler,” you tried to repeat, tears still streaming steadily down your face. 

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he said once he saw the shift on your face. 

“It’s Gloria,” you finally spit out. “She’s out here somewhere, Tyler. We have to find her–”

Tyler’s gaze softened at your words. He pulled his eyes away from you long enough to quickly scan the scene. 

“Did you see her? Or know where she went?”

You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No–” you cried. “No, I don’t know where she went. Tyler, I have to find her–”

“Easy,” he soothed, winding an arm around your middle so that he could brace the majority of your weight. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We gotta get you checked out.”

“I can’t leave her–” you protested. 

“Listen to me,” he said, voice gentle but stern. “You bleeding out on a pile of rubble isn’t going to help her, okay? Let me get you somewhere safe, Boone and Dexter can search for Gloria, alright?” 

After a moment, you nodded solemnly. “You promise?”

“I promise, baby. Now c’mon.”

Before you could protest, you felt Tyler’s arm swoop around the backs of your legs, while the other supported your back. In an instant, your feet are lifted off from the ground. You didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay your head against his chest. 

“There we go,” he soothed. “I got you.”

His thumb trailed along your back gently as he began navigating the pile of rubble around you. 

You felt safe nestled against him– and for the first time since you’d emerged from the rubble, you felt safe enough to allow your eyes to fall shut. 

“Hey, stay awake now, okay? We’re just a short walk to the ambulances– keep lookin’ at me.”

You tried– honestly you did. You opened them up, despite everything inside of you that screamed to close them. And then you fought like hell to keep them trained on Tyler– to study the lining of his jaw and the tan shade of his skin. But Tyler’s embrace was so warm, and his voice was just so soft. And you were so, so tired. There was nothing you could do when they fell shut again. 

Tyler pleaded for you, but unconsciousness got there first. 

… 

Even after the doctors assured him you’d be okay– that it was just exhaustion and blood loss from the trauma you’d endured keeping you out for so long, he couldn’t settle down. 

You looked so goddamn frail– so broken in that hospital bed. He couldn’t stand it. 

It was nearly ten at night before the rest of his team packed up to head back home, making him promise to call them as soon as you woke up. 

“We can stay if you want,” Lilly offered. There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone. She was being genuine. Which was how Tyler knew he must have been an absolute mess. 

“That’s alright,” he croaked, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. Even he could hear the pain in his voice. 

Boone clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Love you, man.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Dani said. 

Tyler nodded, promised he would. But the only thing he needed was for you to wake up. 

…

His watch read midnight when you finally stirred. 

Tyler was sitting in a chair, pulled all the way up to your bedside, and was clutching your hand with both of his. He had his forehead resting against the hospital bed, but the second he felt movement, he shot up quickly, all the exhaustion fading instantly. 

Your face contorted into a frown as you squeezed your eyes shut once, twice, three times before they fluttered open. 

Scooting forward in his chair, he studied you as you glanced around– clearly trying to take in your surroundings and place where you were. The second you started to shift– like you were sitting up in bed in a panic, he squeezed your hand. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

Your head turned towards him, confusion and fear plastered all over your cut up, bruised face. Just the sight made his chest ache. 

“You’re safe.”

You fell back against the pillow and nodded slowly. 

“Tyler–” you began shakily, he could already hear the sob lodged in your throat. “I– I’m…”

“You’re okay, baby,” he assured you. 

“No– I’m- I’m so sorry–”

He froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey, what’s this? Stop- you got nothing to be sorry for, baby.” 

“I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t hear the alert until it was too late. It was stupid– I just–” your face crumpled as you struggled to find words. “You always tell me not to forget it and I forgot it.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I just– I wanted to get you a birthday cake– I should have gotten it sooner, but I forgot– and…” your voice continued to crack and break with each breath you took. “I know you don’t love birthdays, but I love your birthday–” Tyler leaned forward in his seat, releasing your hand so that he could cup your cheek. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before his fingers traced your jawline delicately. 

“I think your cake got destroyed.”

He couldn’t help the soft smirk that spread across his face. “I’d say that’s probably a fair assumption.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” he soothed. “Fuck birthday cakes– I didn’t want one anyway. I was thinkin’ we could get a nice pie this year. What do ya think? Blueberry? Peach cobbler?”

“But Gloria made it–” 

Suddenly, your face fell and you were back to sitting up eagerly. “Oh my God, Tyler. Gloria– she–”

“She’s safe,” Tyler interjected quickly. “Thanks to you. Boone found her not far from where you wound up, clutching to some pipes. She had a few scratches, but that was it. She said the pipes were your idea.”

A rush of pride flowed through him as he beamed at you. His girl– getting people to safety in the middle of a tornado, despite how scared you must have been. 

Your watery eyes met his, lip quivering as you tried to speak. “Tyler– I didn’t think…” he could hear the tears in your throat before you even let them out. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. God, I don’t know how we made it.”

Your voice broke on the last word, a sob escaping your lips as you doubled over. Instantly, Tyler was out of his chair and sliding into the tiny, hospital bed beside you carefully avoiding your cracked ribs and stitched up thigh. 

Without even hesitating, you curled into his side, fingers grasping as his shirt like your life depended on it. 

“Shh,” he soothed, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “You did make it. You and Gloria both. You made it because you thought on your feet– I’m so proud of you,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 

He had no idea if you believed him or not– no idea if his words were sinking in at all. You clutched his shirt and cried against his chest– frame shaking with each breath you took. Tyler felt so helpless in that moment. All he could do was whisper reassuring comments and words of affirmation in your ear and hold you tightly against him. 

After a while, your breathing started to return to normal. Your grip on his shirt loosened as you let out a sigh. “You came to get me,” you said quietly, voice sounding so tired– like it was moments away from drifting off. 

Tyler pressed his lips to your hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll always come to get you,” he promised. 

You nodded. “I know.” 

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm a few more times soothingly. “The laundry mat was a good idea– especially with the pipes,” he murmured into your hair. 

With what little energy you had left, you pulled away from him to glance up. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Does that mean I can be a tornado wrangler now?” 

He smirked playfully. “That depends, do you want to be?”

You bit your lip, like you were really thinking about it. After a moment, you scrunched your nose up. “And face one of those things nearly everyday? Not a chance.”

Tyler smiled, pulling you gently against his chest– right where you belonged. “There’s my girl,” he said lovingly. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[4] - Ray of Light

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you. 

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face. 

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter. 

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place. 

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names? 

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key. 

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung. 

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet? 

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this. 

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa. 

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with.  The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds. 

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence. 

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her? 

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly. 

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics. 

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered. 

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn. 

Someone passes him another. 

Someone else claps him on the back. 

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element. 

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is? 

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking. 

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump. 

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often. 

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..." 

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless. 

He's right. 

You do hate this. 

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be. 

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here." 

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it. 

The other one is… 

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head. 

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter. 

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall. 

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling. 

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him. 

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making. 

And he's admitting it. 

Voluntarily. 

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom. 

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect. 

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor. 

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room. 

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately. 

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish. 

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention. 

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief. 

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment. 

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid." 

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you. 

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual. 

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks. 

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier. 

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice? 

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball. 

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining. 

In small doses. 

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you. 

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure. 

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious. 

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food. 

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it. 

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue. 

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it. 

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest. 

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you. 

Good for him. 

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing. 

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise. 

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food. 

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table. 

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes. 

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters. 

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused. 

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size. 

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics. 

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly. 

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant. 

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion. 

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen. 

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol. 

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions. 

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination. 

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver. 

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty. 

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued. 

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower. 

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern. 

He knows you shouldn’t drink that. 

You know you shouldn’t drink that. 

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink. 

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

goal: 600 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[uzurakis]

you: 1 attachment

with a force and an aroused mind, you sent a photo to gojo. well, to be more specific, your nudes in the middle of the day. you’re sure he would not mind at all, right? it’s gojo satoru we’re talking about.

feeling a thrill of anticipation as you waited for his response because normally he replied almost instantly, his sneery comments making you smile. but this time, minutes ticked by without a word, and you started to fidget, glancing at your phone repeatedly.

finally, a notification popped up. you eagerly opened it, only to find a single, dry word:

satoru: wow

fuck it, you decided to send another photo, hoping to get a better reaction. what in the world was that reaction? you muttered to yourself, the boyfriend you know not spamming texts or even emojis seeing your naked body? your tits? maybe it wasn’t enough. but again, minutes passed without any response. you sent another and another, each one met with the same silence.

your mind raced with possibilities; maybe he was busy, maybe something had happened. but the longer you waited, the more your impatience grew. unable to stand it any longer, you decided to call him, needing to hear his voice and find out what was going on.

the phone rang, and just as you were about to hang up, he answered. "hey," he said, there’s a faint sound of his breath hitching, “baby.”

"what the fuck is going on?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. "why are you answering so dry?"

you narrowed your eyes at the call. "what’s with the one-word answers and no replies? i was starting to think you were mad at me or something. you’re bored of my pics?”

without another word, he switched the call to a video call. at first, you could only saw his forehead, the camera was a bit unsteady as you hear his deep breathing from the loud speakers. "aww, my bad. don’t get me wrong baby," he said, tone suddenly warm and engaging, a tad of playfulness towards the end.

“sorry, it’s just,” he laughed, a light, carefree sound escaping his lips as he positioned his phone to a better angle and a much better view. “the photos were too much . .”

“and it’s kinda hard to type with one hand, y’know?”

your mind raced at the screen, your boyfriend’s hand was sliding up and down his shaft as ragged breaths filled up the silence. his length was already wrapped with some sticky substance and he kept gliding his fingers, toying with it when another surge formed at the top.

“ah,” you feigned sulking, though you were enjoying it. "you could have just said that."

"forgive me? i’ll make it up to you when i’m home baby, promise.”

“only if you let me use one hand on you too, satoru.“

n. aha . . one silly satoru smut that has sat on my mind for a long while. tagging a satoru fucker @sugulani uu <3

@uzurakis

[imaginationlover101]

Finders Keepers

Theo Nott x reader (Best Friends To Lovers)

Summary: Some people couldn't keep their eyes to themselves. Who would have known it would have taken one night to prove it all.

I couldn't believe him. There he stood in all his glory, to be quite honest, I've never seen him look so good. Dressed in a dark blue polo (my favorite shirt of his that we bought during a summer weekend back home. We were practically going through every shop trying to find a shirt that fit the ambiance the night, and then it fell into place. I told him that the dark navy brought out his eyes, and since then, he's worn it ever since). I became jealous of his shirt and the way it hugged his body, wishing that I was there supplying him with comfort instead.

I could feel the glances of annoyance from Pancy before even turning her way. Although I dont blame her, I was too busy staring at the boy who was a mere 50 feet away. Sipping through my drink, I finally turn my attention towards her.

"What was that again?"

For all but a moment, I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. The dress I had chosen to wear became increasingly tight, and I began to overthink all of my descions for the night. I wanted to jump out of my own skin, yet I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the people, or the dark lights, but for some reason, I couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"It's about time. I've only called your name like twelve times. What's going on with you tonight?"

Pansy leaned against the curved wall of the slytherin common room with a mysterious look on her face. Twirling a black lock between her fingers, she observed the room searching for the awnser to her own question. Noticing a group of figures making a turn our way, I try to scheme an awnser as fast as possible.

"It's nothing, Pans. I just feel weird tonight."

Within a moment, Pansy could tell that something was wrong, but she had to hold her tongue tight when she noticed Jen and Molly coming our way. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the fake interactions between the girls. It seemed as if the only thing we had in common was this party or our homeroom class.

For a moment, Y/N was able to turn her attention away from the girls and solely focus on the blue-eyed boy she cared so much about. She wanted nothing more to be cuddled up under his shoulder and became jealous of the way he freely talked to Matthew and Lorenzo.

Y/N and Theo had started off the night seemingly good, besides from the unresolved tension Y/N carried from Jen as she practically proclaimed her "hots" for Theo this morning in homeroom. Y/N wanted nothing more to spill her potion all over Jens' shirt, making her rethink the words that came out of her mouth. Theo was hers.

Well, hypothetically, the two weren't exactly dating yet, merley very close friends. But Y/N couldn't help but wish that the pair was more. They had known one another since they were children. How could all the memories of stargazing nights, Hogesmade weekends, summers in Italy, and cozy fall days in the park mean nothing to him? The two were practically attached by the hip, and Jen was bold to assume that she could get to Theo so easily.

Jen and her possy finally made their way towards Pansy, and Y/N. Y/N twirled her drink in her hand before quickly sloshing the whole thing down. Pansy had looked at her best friend in a questionable way. Y/N was never one to drink, now she was throwing drink after drink down? What in the world was wrong?

"Oh hello girls!"

An agonizing voice came from the crowd or at least that's what I thought, until I turned my head to see Jen standing a centimeter away from me. Looking at Pansy, I prayed she'd take the conversation from here.

"Oh Jen, Molly what are you doing here"

Pansy replied in a voice I had never heard from her before. It was a mix of sweetness, confusion and hate all in one. After all Jen and Molly are Gryfindors what were they doing at our party, in might I say the Slytherin common room.

Molly laughed for a moment but not before Jen quickly smacked her side.

"Oh well you know, Molly here is going out with Frederick Brasher, you guys know him right?"

That smug ugly women, Frederick Brasher, wasn't even into girls. The poor boy was probably hexed by Jen during his latest chess battle. She probably offered him, no forced him to give her the common room password or else she'd share his deepest secret. And who would of thought, weren't Gryfindors supposed to be kind?

"Well, yes, I know Frederick very well actully. I'm just surprised he gave Molly here chance."

Pansy looked towards Y/N in surprise. She had never heard her best friend give such digs, but I guess that's what happens after a drink or two. Searching her surroundings Pansy was surprised none of the guys made their way towards them yet. Usually they were always "saving the day" when an unknown was near.

Facing her attention on Molly, Y/N could see the way her face twisted in such a way of her knowing her "precious" secret.

"Speaking of chances, Y/N you wouldn't happen to know anything about Theodore Nott would you?"

Theodore? Who even called him Theodore anymore. If she thought she had a chance with Teddy after calling him Theodore she was wrong. After Molly's proclamation this morning in potions class, she was lucky Y/N hadn't kicked her out yet.

"Hmmm, what's the matter? Y/N cats got your tongue?"

Maybe I was dreaming, but it wasn't until I saw Pansy reaction that I realized I definitely was not. Her mouth was wide open, and her eyes were in immediate shock. If Jen thought she could get away with this, she was wrong.

"Actully no unlike you, I dont have to think of my words they just come right out. Now excuse me, I was just thinking about something far more important than you"

Making my way from out of the dreary drink station, I made my way towards the opposite corner near the very end of the room. The music was significantly louder here, and the green strobe lights from the ceiling were definitely showing it's affects.

"Ehhh!!! Look who it is!! The princess herself! We were just talking about you." Matteo said.

Making a note of my surroundings, I noticed how only Matteo, Theo, and Enzo were the only boys near. Matteo had some girl in his arms, while Enzo sat near the speakers thumping to every beat. Theo stood across from me, leaning against the corner of the wall. With a grin on his face, he motions to Pansy and the group I had left behind.

"Did you decided to grace us with your presence finally?"

Enzo leans up from the speakers, his voice projecting only so far. Another one of our friends who was subjected to the drink of alcohol. His breath smelt like cheap beer, and when he got up to say hello, he quickly sat back down when he realized there's no point.

"Whats this?"

Y/N says practically screaming. The music was far too loud for anyone to hear something. Theos face morphs into confusion, and he leans down from his stance and comes closer to my ear. With his head near the nook of my head, I was grateful for the dark lights in the room.

"I just said said who did this"

Pointing the floor he finally recognizes what I said. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me closer.

"Who else, it was Draco before these two came and trashed everything"

Nodding, I began to look up at him. Even in the dark, I could still see his blue eyes. I was starting to get nervous, but I had to stay strong to my word. Bringing his shoulder down so that he could hear me, I slowly began to speak what was on my mind.

"If I asked you to do something would you?"

For a moment, he pulls back, staring directly at my face. He begins to inspect every inch of my skin before answering my question. It was as if he knew me too well.

"Of course bella, is everything alright?"

Nodding my head I drag Theo closer to me. He sways for a minute, surprised at the sudden contact. Wrapping my hands around his neck I lean towards him once again. Placing a hand near the side of his cheek, I raise up to his ear.

"Kiss me"

Theos eyes widen and I begin to roll mine as I waited for him to reciprocate the feeling back. Running my fingers though his hair, he began to smirk and brought his face closer to mine.

With his lips on mine, I began to hear the whoops and hollers from all of our friends. Finally breaking away, Theo tucked me in the nook of his arm in a comforting embrace. From there I could clearly see the shock on Jens' face and to me that made it worth it, time and time again.

[obito-in-disguise]

| Unreceived |

Husband! Itachi × reader

A joke you made doesn't land well with your husband.

332 days, that was how long Itachi had been gone on a mission.

He goes away on missions often, but this was the longest he'd ever been away. You remember the tearful departure like it was yesterday, though a lot of the tears were on your end.

It was like any other day, the two of you were having dinner, there was light conversation here and there but the comfortable silence was greatly appreciated as well. Itachi had been fiddling with his food for a while now, a strange distant look occupying his face.

He had a cute habit of zoning out at the table so you didn't question it much, to you he was just simply lost in thought again.

Perhaps you should have because just a few minutes later, Itachi clears his throat.

"Y/n, maybe we should get that puppy you've talking about" how random, the last time you talked about the puppy was almost a week and a half ago.

"I thought you didn't like animals on the furniture, why the sudden change of heart tachi?"

"...it could keep you company while I'm gone...".

You felt your stomach drop, you should've know better by now. Itachi always lets you know of his impending departure in the most jarring ways possible.

You could feel the heat rushing to your face in panic, he had never suggested getting a pet to keep you company while he was on his missions.

So what was different about this mission? You weren't stupid, even though you tried to push them away every thought in your head was screaming that Itachi was going to be gone for a long, long time.

Your panicked demeanor did nothing to hide your thoughts, so Itachi concludes he might as well just get on with it.

He sighs, reaching across the table to grasp your hand "I will be gone for quite some time dear..."

You hated the way he was looking at you, with such pity, like you would break apart the second he stepped foot out of the house, maybe you would.

You hated how attached you had grown to his presence, to his company, but what was so wrong with being attached to your husband?

"How long?..."

"Eleven months but just know that I will be think-"

"Don't even" you yank your hand out of his, your desperation and anger muddling together to form one big meltdown.

"If you were thinking about me then you wouldn't leave me alone on my own for a year..." damnit, you couldn't even finish the sentence without your voice wobbling.

He needed to know that this was serious and that you weren't just acting out of momentary emotions.

"That's why I suggested the puppy..." he winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. If looks could kill, the glare you were sending him right now would have him six feet under.

"This isnt even your home Itachi, it might as well be a guest house because all you do is come and go!" Itachi's expression hardens, the atmosphere following suite.

"That isn't fair y/n. Everything I've done...I've done for you, to ensure you get to live in a world that is safe because you deserve it. It hurts me just as much to be away from you but this is my duty as a ninja and as a husband" You know he's right, you know it, but it didn't make the situation hurt any less.

"I know, I'm sorry...its just a year is too much...that's...I..." you couldn't even finish your sentence coherently but it was going to royally suck being separated from your husband for a year was your point.

He pulls you into a hug, warm and comforting, delicate and tender before pulling back and holding your face in his large hands

"Since you didn't let me finish my sentence last time, I will be thinking about you every minute and every second of the day. Will you be strong for me?" How unfair, how was he so good at diffusing the situation and making everything ok?

"Can't you just take me with you?..." If this wasn't such a serious moment, Itachi would've burst out laughing.

Even though he always let you win in playfights, your ninja skills were a joke and so therefore you would get obliterated within one day of the mission. He simply smiles and brushes his lips against your forehead in a tender gesture of reassurance

"I cannot in good faith do that, you will be safest here where I know you are far away from the dangers of my work. Now, how about that puppy?..."

So here you were 322 days later, earnestly waiting for his return. You two eventually settled on a Maltese, Itachi promised that with the small white ball of fluff running around, you wouldn't even notice his absence.

If anything, it reminded you of him more, especially when the time for his return drew nearer and nearer.

Itachi had forgotten he was now done with his mission and that he didn't need to be so deathly quiet anymore, as he slipped into the living room after a year of being gone to find you flipping through a book absentmindedly.

He had also apparently forgotten to turn his sharingan off when you turned around and nearly passed away from fright seeing a man standing in the shadows of your doorway, red glowering eyes boring into yours.

"What are you doing Itachi! you scared me half to death!" whatever excitement you had for his return was replaced with fright.

He chuckles stepping out of the doorway and revealing those refined features you had come to love. "Is this the welcome I get after not seeing you in a year?"

You glare at him before ultimately tackling him in a bone crushing hug, you couldn't believe he was actually back. The hug startled him, causing him to stumble a little but he eventually gains his bearing, returning the embrace with equal fervour. "I missed you tachi..."

"I missed you even more my love but I'm home now, I'm home".

After your tearful and frightful reunion, you led him upstairs to the bathroom where you stripped him of his clothes and began to wash him, a tender gesture of intimacy.

You started with his hair which was now much longer, since the last time you saw it while he sits in the bathtub. The water was all the way up to his nose and he sneaks little peeks up at you from your position behind him, bringing his hand up occasionally to wipe away the lather that threatens to get in his eyes.

"I bet you're enjoying this domestic display aren't you? seeing the feared Uchiha Itachi reduced to a pampered husband" he speaks, sitting up slightly to allow the water to come to the level of his chest.

"Very much so yes" no matter how scary eveyone said he was, he was always going to be your baby. "Even the scariest of ninjas need a little pampering and luckily for you, your wife is an expert in that field".

A smirk plays on his lips at your proud declaration, no matter how much he protests he loves when you take care of him. "Very lucky indeed but don't let it get to your head, it'll take a lot more to subdue me".

You scoff at his words, stopping your ministrations to his hair abruptly to place a kiss on his cheek.

You grin in triumph as you watch the dark red blush spread from his neck to the tip of his ears, this paired with his startled glare only add to his adorableness.

"Seems like I should let it get to my head because I know how to make Uchiha Itachi blush" he flushes deeper as you tout your victory, sinking deeper into the water as if to hide his embarrassment.

"Don't get too confident wife, flustering me doesn't make you formidable" you snicker going back to washing his hair

"oh yeah? maybe I should sell my techniques to your enemies, would I be formidable then?"

He snorts at the thought of his enemies kissing him on the cheek after learning about it from you. "That would be very...unpleasant" He says making a face.

"What if I use these tactics against your foes, perhaps we could gain an advantage. The element of surprise often proves decisive in battle." You say playfully thinking up strategies based on your unique brand of combat. "we could create a whole new arsenal of psychological warfare."

He knows you're teasing him but the thought fills Itachi with a sudden sense of discomfort. His jaw clenches involuntarily at the thought of you bestowing such intimate gestures upon other men.

He tries to shake off the irrational jealousy, reminding himself that such thoughts are unfounded and unnecessary. After all, your bond is rooted in trust and mutual respect, not petty insecurity.

Still, the image of another man receiving your affection lingers, fueling a quiet storm inside him. Itachi forces a nonchalant laugh, attempting to dispel the darkness gathering in his head.

"Naturally, those kisses would be reserved solely for me, the fortunate husband who gets to indulge in them daily." He meets your gaze, a hint of desperation underlying his rapidly failing casual demeanor.

You freeze at the sudden change in the atmosphere, was he actually taking you seriously?

"Tachi...I'm your wife, I'm not going to kiss anyone else."

Rising from the bath, Itachi steps out onto the tiles, water droplets glistening on his skin. He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours intently. "I know my love, I just take my responsibility as your husband very seriously."

With deliberate slowness, Itachi reaches out, his wet fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. You sigh, allowing yourself to relax again as you nuzzle into his touch.

"Besides, if I wanted to kiss other guys I would've done it while you were away on your mission...haha."

The tease falls as flat as a thunderclap, Itachi's face darkening ominously at your remark. He recoils slightly, his hand falling away from your skin as if it burned.

The jest, intended to lighten the mood, strikes a nerve in the most unexpected way possible.

As confident as he appeared to be, Itachi had his insecurities as well. Throughout the mission, his mind was plagued with thoughts of you finally having enough of his absence and leaving him for someone else, someone who could be with you all the time.

So it hit him like a truck when you made your little joke about cheating, it was like someone had spoken the words out his worst nightmares to taunt him.

"Is that what you were thinking about while I was gone?" he asks not being able to stop the words if he wanted to, his tone devoid of humor.

Each word is punctuated with an icicle chill delivery, making it clear that even the possibility of infidelity sends shockwaves through his very being. His eyes search yours, scrutinizing every flicker of emotion that crosses your features.

He struggles to keep the violent rage bubbling beneath the surface from boiling over, knowing full well the destructive path it would lead him down.

This night had definitely spiralled, Itachi had spiralled, the pressure of being away for so long was finally crashing down on him and he manifested it in the worst way possible.

How did the atmosphere go from intimate and jestful to raging jealousy and accusations of unfaithfulness. "You can't be serious Itachi, it was a jok-"

"You think this is amusing?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous, each word carefully enunciated.

"You'd do well to remember the sacrifice I made during my time away, y/n. Leaving you, enduring months of hardship and loss, all to ensure yours and the village's safety and yet you imply I should lose you to someone else because of it?"

His voice rises, betraying the anguish simmering beneath the surface.

"What? that's not what I was saying at all!"

He wraps a towel around his waist, suddenly cold from more than just the dampness seeping into the air. His posture remains rigid, shoulders squared in a silent challenge to the unwarranted doubt you cast. "I trust you, y/n. Not everyone deserves that same privilege. So choose your words more carefully in the future."

Your jaw is on the floor by the time he finishes his little rant. How had he managed to take the joke so wrongly? What did he even think of you?

"What the hell Itachi! what was all that? I already told you it was a joke, I would never cheat on you!"

He grabs your wrist tugging you closer, "That remark was inappropriate y/n" he says through gritted teeth, each word carefully enunciated to convey the depth of his displeasure.

"You should refrain from making jests about something so serious in the future." The atmosphere in the room has now deteriorated rapidly, the warm glow of the bath was now replaced by an uncomfortable chill.

Your chest heaves as you yank your wrist out of his grip in anger and quite frankly embarrassment, here was your husband of 5 years lecturing you about infidelity like you were a frivolous lady of the night.

"Get off me! You're clearly out of touch with your emotions, what's gotten into you?" You don't give him a chance to respond before you stomp out of the bathroom, making sure to slam the door as loud as you can.

You needed to be away from him right now, anywhere would do. You thought all those absences and long missions away from home wouldn't affect your relationship but they clearly did. A careful re-evaluation was due.

Next>>

Ya'll my keyboard kept auto correcting Itachi to Hitachi wtf??? Isn't Hitachi the name of that company that makes massage wands but everybody just uses them to get off😭

Click here for more Naruto Shippuden fics and other stories!

[sourinartt]

Oh jesus, nh fans are so delusional and idiotic

I could even say that it's more interesting to fight with an ss Stan

"you're trying really hard to make it seem like Naruto forced himself to be with her." and wasn't it like that? The last movie where Naruto is constantly insulted for not having feelings for his stalker monster, for not realizing that even though everyone knew that he was looking to get Sasuke out of the darkness and had quite a few goals like getting everyone to recognize him to play at being loving with someone who wants him

Throughout the entire movie he treats her like a friend, even making fun of her for not wearing something good for the cold. Naruto has such great feelings of love!! *sarcasm*

until he simply puts the genjutsu on him and in all the scenes he is sad, melancholic because he feels guilty

" pair two characters who have no attachment to each other" Are you serious?

Are you talking about two characters who die for each other? What do they feel for each other? Sasuke is the one who makes Naruto realize that he has someone who cares about him

Sasuke is the one who sacrifices his dreams and goals to save Naruto's life, it is Sasuke who agrees to stop being a Shinobi to feed Naruto, It's Sasuke who plays with him all the time, Sasuke recognizes him, Sasuke protects him..The same Sasuke who awakens his powers out of love for Naruto and hated this love so much that he had to get away, he had to get Naruto out of his life because he gave him love and light...

Naruto is the one who can't stop thinking about Sasuke, it's Naruto who never stops defending his beauty and integrity, He doesn't care if others tell him to stop looking for him, Naruto chooses to look for him because he loves him and he doesn't choose for Sasuke to fall into absolute darkness

Naruto speaks as Sasuke was one of the first to recognize him, to not let him fall, who gave him strength

Naruto chooses to die with him because he can't stand that others don't like Sasuke. when Naruto talks about his important people, a certain Hinata doesn't appear because she doesn't even matter, just iruka and sasuke

"he would definitely choose his best friend over the mother of his children and the woman he married " literally...

"The woman who showed him her true love" and what good is her absurd love if he doesn't choose her? If he gets bored by her side and abandons her to live in an office far from her? What's the point if he doesn't sleep with her and made a separate room for his family?

"play down Hinata for Narusasu" "I would choose her over Sasuke and the entire Team 7 " Please, I need to laugh so hard my stomach would hurt

He chooses her over Sasuke? What world do they live in? If it weren't for Sasuke, he would abandon her and their two children for Sasuke. He lives in an office, bitter, until Sasuke appears and cheers him up, He doesn't accept his meals because he wants to get to Sasuke as soon as possible, escape to this one's favorite restaurant.

While with his lovely wife he gets bored, frustrated, tired and doesn't want to put up with his children either, so he runs away, lives in an office and chooses to raise an orphan.

Kishimoto wrote a manga full of texts about why Sasuke is important to Naruto and Naruto is important to Sasuke, but these people are too wrong.

[bililyy]

Best friend!Billie - Pt2

This has a Drabble at the end that you guys will like lol

Warnings! Cheating, probably homophobic parents, Reader is a bit confused, Billie desperate for Reader's love, no use of Y/n

read the first part, so this one makes more sense.

Masterlist

"He's no good for you."

"You don't even know him!"

"No one is good enough for you."

Bestf!Billie who reluctantly agrees to meet you, but only because she needs to find flaws to show you.

"Billie, please smile."

"What? I don't want to smile at him, I want to smile at you."

Bestf!Billie ho almost rolls her eyes forever as soon as she sees him walk into the restaurant with a stupid smile.

She hates the fact that he just kissed the lips that should have been hers.

"I've heard so much about you."

"I wish I could say the same." She smiles innocently.

Yes, she thinks she's being tortured by being in this situation.

"Don't interrupt her!" She says as soon as your boyfriend interrupts you as you excitedly tell about your day.

"She talks too much."

"You talk too much!" She says pointing her finger in his face

Well, that left an awkward atmosphere for the rest of their night together.

"Can we kill him?" She says watching his back walk away.

"Billie!"

You already know that she showed you all of his possible "flaws", right?

"He has ugly hands."

"He interrupted you twice, damn it!"

"He didn't even bring you flowers."

"He didn't even offer to take you home."

"You didn't leave Billie."

"It doesn't matter, he should have tried harder."

But hey, a man wasn't going to stop her from being close to the love of her life, so it was okay.

Best friend Billie! who always puts on a lot of perfume when she comes to see you, so when your boyfriend asks:

"Is that perfume new?"

You'll always answer:

"No, I was with Billie before I came here."

He doesn't suspect you, but he finds it strange how attached to you she is.

"Does she... sleep in bed with you?"

"Yes, we're best friends!"

Best friend Billie! Who starts doing... not so friendly things to you.

She pulls you into her lap when you walk by and sits hugging your waist with her nose in your neck.

She keeps on like that.

Giving you little kisses on the mouth sometimes

Pulling you into her lap.

Sometimes even kissing your neck and leaving a soft mark.

You had to say something, you know you should but... it's such a good feeling.

Until one day...

Best friend Billie is lying on top of you (as always) and starts to caress your belly under your shirt.

"Billie, what are you doing?" You answer with your eyes closed.

She gets up a little and is inches from your face.

"I love you." She says seriously, those blue eyes staring at you as if you were her whole world.

"I love you too." She closes her eyes at that.

That's not what she meant.

"No... I love you much more than that, please break up with him."

"What? Billie that's-"

"I promise to treat you much better, I promise I'll take care of you." She says kissing your cheeks.

"Where does this come from?" You ask a little incredulously.

"My love for you? It's always been there." She smiles a little and gives a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"Billie I can't... fuck, I can't break up with him like this now." She looks at you sadly.

"Why not?"

"Billie I don't know how I feel about liking a girl and... my parents like him." You say the last part quietly and Billie feels her head spin.

"It's okay you... you don't have to figure all this out right now just... let me have you."

"What?"

"I don't care that you're with him I just... yes, I really want to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone but... if you're not ready for that yet, I'll wait for you, but don't push me away."

"Billie, this is wrong."

"Let's solve this together, please give me a chance." She begs with her eyes, and damn you are so in love with those eyes.

"I don't know what to do."

"Let me love you, my love." She says, leaning down and kissing your neck, and you sigh, smelling her hair.

And wow, you've never felt so good having someone's hands on you like this.

She gets up from your neck, and speaks against your cheek.

"Please? I promise he won't find out." She approaches your mouth, and waits a while, giving you the chance to move away from her, but is surprised to feel you pressing your lips to hers in a kiss (which she returns immediately) full of sighs and longing.

Damn, where have you gotten yourself into, huh?

Maybe I'll do a part 3 with a one short lol

Thank you for your support and affection, please comment what you think 💕

[undercover-stories]

I really think most people genuinely do not understand why Wen Ning is so attached to Wei Ying and vice versa. Ultimately, at their core, it's because they 100% share the same morals at the same time while everyone else was fumbling still trying to find theirs. What's even better WEN NING did it first! Because his moment of truth came before Wei Ying's. In a time where doing the right thing was seen as betrayal and against the moral values you grew up with (askewed or otherwise), when you actually needed to make the decision of right and wrong would you? And Wen Ning IMMEDIATELY passed. He saw the massacre his clan was causing, and yeah, he's overwhelmed. He's one dude. What is he supposed to do. Then Wei Ying walks up and gives him this opportunity to actually walk the talk, and he leaped for it. Absolutely excited at the chance to do so. Even went out of his way to try and find Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan's bodies. Hid the brothers, treated them, fed them, lovingly manipulated Wen Qing's love for him into making her do the same

Then when it came to the GCE you know damn well he agreed to it because if that was Wen Qing on the table that needed something from him he would have plucked it out himself if he could to give it to her even though he knows it would have pissed her off. Which is also understandably among the main reasons he probably got so frustrated with Jiang Cheng. Not because he wanted to set some kind of socially mandated perception of debt back on track but because he wanted Jiang Cheng to remember more than anything else, that's your fucking brother you dipshit. Not whatever imagined monster you've cooked up in your head. Your brother. (The dipshit is from me. Wen Ning would never)

He was also probably so frustrated at Jiang Cheng's allegations that Wei Ying caused the Lotus massacre too (or at the very least had a hand in it). Cause he's a Wen. He of all people would've known that it wasn't because of some imagined slight between clans. It was the Wens getting too big for their britches and demanding power and respect they didn't deserve and the only reason Lotus Pier fell was because the Jiangs (or specifically Yu Ziyuan of you really wanna get into who's really to blame) said no with a whip to Wang Lingjiao's face. Wen Ning forced Jiang Cheng to deconstruct every misconception he'd hammered into his head over the years, and that's why Jiang Cheng fell apart.

Also similar to Wei Ying, Wen Ning of all people had every right to be angry at the world. They murdered him in cold blood, made him watch his sister burn alive, killed whatever family he had left (including to his knowledge a 4 year old child) and kept him locked and controlled for 13 years. But instead, again similar to Wei Ying, he didn't want a fight, he didn't want revenge. He just wanted to be allowed to exist. That's it.

Wen Ning and Wei Ying are really just reflections of one another, with the only difference being that both their anxieties over the value of their own existence manifested in different ways. For Wen Ning it was about making himself small and for Wei Ying it was about overcompensating everyone else's fault by always trying to be the first one to go "it's not a big deal" when it really very much is a big deal. Like if you think about it, the only time Wei Ying went on the offensive was to protect his siblings. And every single person who condemns Wei Ying for giving his core to Jiang Cheng without his consent is a hypocrite. Because you can't tell me that if it was you standing there seeing someone you loved dearly slowly killing themselves you wouldn't have done everything you possibly could if it meant you could at the very least give them back the will to fight and live. Even if it was behind their back

Also psssst, if you really think about it, Wei Ying giving Jiang Cheng his core 'without his consent' isn't any different then when you have someone you love institutionalized without their consent because they are very clearly a danger to themselves. (And don't come at me with 'being institutionalized made me worse' because that's very obviously not what happened with Jiang Cheng. He thrived with Wei Ying's core. With his own effort obviously but still). What's the equivalent for Wei Ying? I dunno, probably something about going homeless to pay the bills maybe.

[frillydolle]

isolated doe ୨୧◞　 ──　 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓾𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷

synopsis: after ur horse bucks u off after a fright and ur now left stranded alone in the forest across roanoke valley. unsure of what to do, u settle down for the night before hearing some heavy footsteps... and u froze.

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 naive femreader, mid to low honour, dated and typical period idealogy　 a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

chapter 2

u weren't sure what to do anymore, completely lost since ur home was in the middle of literally nowhere. u were out on ur horse, hazel going on another simple ride through the beautiful scenery that roanoke ridge had to offer. a pretty view within a prettier country. only for something to scare ur horse, causing u to be bucked off before hazel ran far away and u sighed softly. what can u do now? it's not like u can just walk home as u were maybe a few miles away? just a guess…

u were walking aimlessly in the woods by now, not even sure where u are or what u should do, especially since the sun was beginner to disappear. there were little rips below ur dress due to the branches attaching themselves to the fabric, and ur shirt was following that same fate. the only hope u hoped for is that nature would be kind to u and kept the hungry animals away. soon, u felt ur legs beginning to get tired with each step u took.

u gave up, accepting defeat as u settle down in the clearing of a forest, the wooden pricks pressing against ur back uncomfortably but there's nothing u can do now, until the morning came and you could walk some more. luckily, it wasn't too cold, but u did feel the breeze of the night air. u didn't like how eerily quiet it was either or if u just couldn't hear anything or.. anyone for miles, u were in the middle of nowhere after all.

but then, u heard a twig snap, like it broke under someone's heavy footstep and caused u to be alert. although u couldn't see anything in the darkness, something in ur gut was telling u there was someone here, someone horrible. u didn't move, like a deer in headlights. being struck with fear, ur breathing quicken slightly as ur eyes fell onto a tall figure coming towards u. ur lips quivered with fear as u did ur best to get up on ur feet before tripping over a branch, causing u to go back to where u started, on the ground.

“woah there, i ain't gonna harm ya..”

ur soft but scared gaze remained up at him as u backed up to another tree. u didn't even talk back in case he was one of those bad men u have heard about, the murfree brothers?... or something like that? u weren't too sure. since it was only a glance that u would take to the posters on ur travels through annesburg.. they were some scary men in this world, and he looked like he was one of them. or were u wrong?

to him, it was maybe wrong to think of u like this in this moment since u were absolutely terrified of him, but u were a very pretty girl. ur face remained him of those porcelain dolls he saw by the window of shops in the big city of saint denis, with those big eyes and rosey cheeks. ur hair looked soft as silk, just what he'd do to comb his thick fingers through ur hair just once.

“...are ye lost? i could help ya, if ye let me, that is.”

should u talk? or should u get up and run away as fast as u possibly could? despite feeling the tiredness that already runs through ur body. u needed to rest, and u were at least smart enough to know there was no way that u could outrun this man. he looked like he was a traveller of sorts, a hunter, perhaps? either way, u knew he wasn't the type to be easily fooled. he seemed nice enough, but u just weren't too sure about what to make of him.

“... my horse bucked me off, somethin’ scared my girl and she ran off, leavin’ me… could you give me a ride home? please, sir?” u didn't consider urself a religious girl, but u prayed and prayed mentally that he'd help u, although something in ur gut was telling u that u should run—

“‘course. i don't mind, miss. d'ya need help up?” he says, the gruff in his voice showing through before he gives u his hand. he must be a hard-working man, callous and hardness make their appearance on his hands as u look at them for a second.

u hesitantly took a hold and he pulled u up to ur feet, a small sigh left ur lips, glad that he had the kindness in his heart to help a girl like u out, despite how scary the outside was during nightfall.

“do you know where reed cottage is? near the valley?”

“yes i think i do, miss. ‘nd don't worry, yer okay.” he replied before u felt his hand rest on the small of ur back, guiding u back to the clearing of the main road and u see a beautiful brown horse, big and brooding.

“she's a stern girl but yer alrigh’.” the older man added with w chickle before he helped u up onto his horse. he hitched up no long after. with a small “hyah” the horse began to trot along the road, and ur arms rested around his torso as u didn't want to fall off, either.

u were quiet, he wasn't much of a talker either and that u didn't mind, just didn't expect to see anyone out at this time of night. although, u couldn't but shake the feeling that u should say something, break the silence between u two, but u were too nervous. u didn't want to anger him, and he tells u to leave him alone. u were just a skittish and shy girl. been on ur own for as long as u can remember. now, ur staring, and u didn't mean to. it was a habit of urs. his hair was long, and he had a big stature to match his broad shoulders, like he was swiftly shielding u away. he was wearing dark gloves that matched his dark hat.

“y'got a name, miss?”

“... [name].”

“a pretty name for a pretty girl, suits ya.” he replies, looking over his shoulder for a moment just so u can hear him better, and u did.

did he… give u a compliment? u weren't even sure how to react before ur rosey cheeks got more of a red hue to them. shaking urself out of ur thoughts, u hesitantly spoke back.

“what's ur name, sir?”

he didn't say anything for a few moments, like he was now the one hesitating. do u know who he is? there's no way that u do since he hasn't done anything illegal here, yet. he should be okay, right? only one way to find out…

“... arthur. arthur morgan.” he replies as he returns his gaze back to the road. and to his fortunate luck, u had no idea who he was, and he was determined to keep it that way. he didn't want u to find out… all that.

“thank you for your help.. um, mr morgan.”

“‘s nothin’. just doin’ what any other man would do.”

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ CHALKBOARD AND NAILS

tw. noncon, yandere, dumbification, objectification, daddy kink, some degradation, some praise, threats, brief mention of murder and blood, hair pulling, forced oral wordcount. 4.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @totalleelee ♡♡♡ here you are my loVE!!! happy late birthday to your friend as well, and I really hope you guys enjoy it! I always like getting to write new characters and Nanami was definitely a fun one. I had to make the fic longer bc I wanted moreEeeeee but yea i just really really hope you enjoy it, and thank you again a miLLIOn for commIng me iM so sO HONOUREDDD

nanami kento x fem!reader

You should think about what you’re doing. Lying upside down off the couch with your eyes big and long, distracting lashes and your hair hanging; casting playful shadows on the floor when you move. His couch. He’d like to believe you’re doing it on purpose -hell, most people would probably be inclined to- when you’ve got that coy, little smile on your face and your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of skin above your pants.

He would assume if you had ever dared to come onto him in any way. But you haven’t, and so he can’t, not when you remain the perfectly sweet, kind, respectful graduate they hired only a few years ago— and it makes him too aware of you.

Nanami’s not the prim and proper bootlicker Gojo jokes he looks like; so among the other sorcerers, it isn’t even too illogical that you would cling to him a little. A kouhai dumped on his doorstep when the higher-ups decided to employ them fresh out of school. If it were anyone else, he would’ve complained until the choice was overruled. But you’re not anyone else. He can’t even lie about the fact that he’s grown quite the attachment to you.

Your bubbly, engaged energy and blueberry scented shampoo and cheap coffee in styrofoam cups that you always, always forget to throw away at the end of the day. Your chattering that rings through his brain before he goes to sleep and the way you talk and talk and talk when he won’t. You’re the exact opposite of an enigma, because that would require that you left him with some mysteries, and you don’t have the ability to keep your mouth shut. He hates how easy you wind him around your little finger, and he hates that he hates it.

Nanami’s not a dependant guy- and it seems to be your goal to prove him so fucking wrong.

“Why wouldn’t that be possible? I mean, it’d be hard if suddenly a curse shows up and you’re called up in the middle of the night and have to rush to work, and our rates of serious injury are pretty high. But I think I could make it work! Y’know, communication is key and all that.” Your pretty lips shine as you ramble on. You prop your head onto one arm, and turn over so your leg is basically straddling his furniture. “Have you ever dated a non-sorcerer while you’ve been a grade one, Nanamin?”

He lets out a slow exhale, and shifts his gaze back from the lines of your throat to his book so you don’t catch him looking. “No.”

“Not once? In like twelve years?” You raise a brow like you’ve suddenly discovered he’s some ancient fossil dug up from the canal.

“I prefer not to leave my partners for weeks on end with no explanation because the sorcerer world forbids it— so no. And I didn’t graduate twelve years ago, brat.” With the spine of the book he taps your nose, before getting up from the chair to join you on the couch. The few drinks have been abandoned as you finally let the blood back out of your head and wobble like a deer, blinking too slowly. Even now, you’re pretty. Prettier than he wants you to be, taking in the soft slope of your nose and the pillowy lips and your stupid flush on your face. Brat is right.

“I think I’ll do it,” you declare after a few seconds, and rest your head back into the couch with a pout. “I get lonely. And most sorcerers have giant egos.” He’s not sure if it takes him aback -can’t place the emotion that washes over him a few inches at a time- but he finds himself watching the side of your face a little too tightly. The cogs turn in his head and send some uncomfortable cold to gather in the pit of his stomach. Your lashes flutter and some wetness lines your waterline, and he can tell that you mean it. It isn’t the alcohol, he knows you better than enough.

When you look up at him, your faces are only a few inches apart— soft breaths filling the narrow space between. Has he ever told you he loves you? He’s not a man of too many words, that’s always been more your style than his— so probably not. But he does. So much it carves a gaping hole in his chest upon impact. He doesn’t have to say anything to see the way your eyes flutter shyly with the near perfect closeness. As your silence hangs as the room disappears, his hand twitching on his thigh. Aren’t you partly his like he’s yours? That’s how it should work. It’s the only logical course of action, and so he can’t help but lean in.

You’re just too shy to say anything- right? You wouldn’t hang out with him so much if you didn’t, wouldn’t trust and touch him, or confide in him so much if you didn’t. His heart burns in his chest the closer you seem to get. But before he can finish up the gap, you giggle and back away. “Wow! Hey, we almost kissed.” Your voice is a higher pitch than normal, but still rambly. Fuck. “I didn’t expect you to be so close when I looked up,” your nose and cheeks are burning hot, “you scared me, Nanamin~”

You stand from the couch instead, and lean towards him with that little smile that drives him crazy at night. “Senpai, it’s clearly time for me to go home. I’m getting sloppy.” You are. And as much as he wants to use that as an excuse to grab you by your waist and pull you into his lap, it wouldn’t do any good. Not when you’re too busy running your mouth to understand the consequences. He loves you, but you’re one infuriating little runt. You run your hand through his hair like it’s an intrusive thought, spilling loose locks onto his forehead, and then you smack your lips. “Will you see me to the door at least?”

For not the first time, he blames your loose lips for making it so hard for him.

+

You’re entirely different outside the four walls of his apartment.

It’s a coincidence that he finds himself across the street as he spots you walking under the streetlights with a little jump in your step. You look a different sort of formidable— clinging to the arm of some plain fucking loser that is so very clearly drooling all over you. It’s almost pathetic how easily swayed the guy is, as you bat your lashes and smile at him. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it rings a little familiar, but common sense and logic get pushed down a little under the feeling of anger that he feels bubbling up in him.

Not at you— though he told you he didn’t think it a good idea, you’ve always been a bit dense. In need of protection. It isn’t an option, and Nanami’s responsible for you. He looks out for you. This fucking loser though, is oblivious about anything but the skin your dress is showing off. In the brief few moments he gets to spot you walking off towards your street, that much becomes clear. You love making it hard for him. You’re basically magnetic, dragging him along from whatever chore he was doing to follow behind patiently, getting more and more agitated.

See, Nanami has thought quite often about what he is, and isn’t. You forced him to think it over whenever he found his mind wandering back to you each time it had the chance, squeezing around his cock and whining out your dramatics into his mouth. In his imagination, he’s easy to wrap up into a neat bow. With a begrudgingly growing interest each time you landed on his couch, or trailed behind him like a puppy at work. It’s because of all that introspection that he decided he isn’t a good do-er. He does good, and he is perfectly adequate at doing it too. But he doesn’t do it for the praise of it.

Nanami isn’t a hero. He isn’t a vigilante.

He’s a simple guy with simple wants: you. So there’s only one reason that crystalizes in his mind as he finds himself walking a good distance behind this fucking loser that you’re blinking stars up at. It isn’t a noble one. Just that every fiber in him aches to grab the guy by the back of his neck and kick his head like a soccer ball. You wouldn’t like that much, but he still wants to do it.

You’re beaming and chattering along like you do at such a pace that you don’t even notice that he’s started to follow behind. Hell, you barely even acknowledge a passerby to move out of the way. You’re totally zoned in to your doe-eyed, little fantasies— even as the distance gets closer and closer, and he’s walking down the now familiar streets towards your apartment. And as much as he wants to blame you, he can't. Not really. It’s not like he didn’t know what a sweet little cheerleader you were when you were prancing around his office with the shortest skirts known to man and a coquettish blink of your long lashes. But it’s different when it’s some two-bit, middle aged non-sorcerer with a five o’clock shadow.

It’s different when it isn’t him. Even you must know that. You must feel it.

The sky’s darkening as your conversation goes from enthusiastic to clearly flirty, letting your giggle ring out down the lane— as he makes up the last bit of distance. The guy’s probably musty breath reaching you as he swings his arm over your shoulder, as he pulls you close. As he fills your head with all kinds of promises that he definitely won’t actually meet as soon as he gets your pretty hands around his cock. He knows it, and he knows that even your innocent, sweet personality would take a hit if that happened. You wouldn’t be able to perform well at work, and maybe even your relationship with Nanami would suffer if you got your heart broken.

There’s a very clear path before him that ends right where you’re walking up the steps towards your door, and those pretty lips form words he can’t focus on. He walks up to the door, and only now do you glance behind you and your pretty eyes go curiously wide at him. “Nanami?” You’re so fucking cute. But that stupid fucking arm around your shoulders is in his way. It blocks you from view, and ruins the sight. It’s a bother. There’s only the faintest hints of  jealousy and rage left in his veins - when he gives you a quick nod, then turns towards the guy who’s now got an awfully dumb expression on his face. It reminds him a little of a curse, blank and narrowed and disturbed. He feels eerily calm, really. It’s a simple problem with a simple solution, isn’t it.

“What are you doing here-” you start to say, before you stumble back.

Blood splatters all over, and with an awfully easy motion that stupid head rolls and drops to the floor. It’s quick, and there’s a few seconds where he waits for the resistance. The uncomfortable feeling of guilt. But it doesn’t come—

Until your shaky hand clutches almost painfully onto his shirt, pinching him. “H- Nanamin. What the hell do you think you’re doing? What did you-” You gasp, breaking off into a choked cry when your eyes take in the sight before you, before squeezing your eyes shut entirely and starting to shake harder. “What’s- why?! What did you do? Why did you do that?! I can’t- I can’t even- what- why?!”

You shove him aside, and his foot lands in the mess as you fumble sticking the key into the lock— too shaky to control your own extremities well. But your mouth still hasn’t stopped running. “Stay away! Go away! You’re- I- hick- I don’t wanna look!” You finally manage to get the key turned by the time the tears are making your cheeks entirely shiny, snot running and lip wobbly like a five year old— and sink down into a crouch to start sobbing it out into your arm. “You just killed a-an-” You can’t even make it halfway through without breaking out into another squeak. “F-for no reason. I invited him here- seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

Your face doesn’t come up again for breath until he grabs you by the arm to help you up, and you shove at him again, almost yelling this time. “No, no, no no no! Leave me alone!” This little scene you’re making is gonna attract attention, you know. “Leave me alone, I want to go in!” Before the situation can get out of hand, he pushes your door open enough to toss you inside, and the body after you. There’s a muffled little whimper from you when it lands with a thump on your floor. But as soon as he closes the door, the surge of adrenaline calms.

He just has to explain it to you, give him a minute.

“I don’t wanna- I don’t-”

For some reason, the entire situation winded him, and his beating heart bangs loudly in his chest. He drops his weapon aside and kicks off his shoes, and goes to you— where you’re cocooned in your own arms, knees to your chest. “Hey, it’s-”

“Leave me alone!” you squeak, knocking his hands away from you, only briefly looking up. “Go. Hck- go away!” You’re crying so much that your eyes are red and your cheeks puffy. But he still grabs you by your arms and hauls you up into his chest, ignoring the way you make yourself dead weight. Brat. He wants to say it, but he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t be too happy to hear it at this very moment. It’s not like he blames you. He’s always tried to shield you from the more gruesome parts of the occupation as much as possible. Of course you’d be upset. “Nanamin~” you whine.

“Shhh, just calm down. It’s all good now.” His heart still beats so loud. Maybe he was angrier than he first imagined. He carries you -much to your dismay, if your sniveling cries are anything to go off- out of the hall and into your bedroom. Where it smells of perfume and girly body lotion, and so overwhelmingly like you it takes him aback a little. You’re still crying, and still talking- but he does his best to drown it out in favor of explaining. See, he’s always been such a sucker for you. Swallowing down the slight rasp in his voice, he allows you to drop back into your bed, and looks down at you. You’re still pretty even with your eyes clenched closed, and crying like a baby. “There, ‘s okay.”

He runs his thumb along your eyes, then settles down next to you on the plush mattress. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Listen-”

“How can I -hck- listen?!” You’re quick to turn your face away from him, and wrap your arms around yourself a bit tighter— probably unaware of the distracting way you push up your tits that way in that little implication of a dress. Really, Nanami swallows, you can obviously do much better than that loser that’s probably staining your carpet at the entrance. Your lip wobbles again, before you suck it into your mouth. “I don’t know what- or how- but that isn’t okay, Nanamin. I just-”

So again, he tries to get your attention, this time by grabbing your arm. “Just listen. I did it for you- if this was anyone else I wouldn’t have been so pressed.” It’s true. No one is a priority like you are. “I had to.”

“What are you talking about? How- is killing someone- oh god, there’s a dead guy in my house, Nanamin! I don’t k- what am I gonna do? Why would you-”

“I’m trying to tell you something.” His voice is lower and sharper this time, and your eyes finally shoot open to look at him. But it isn't that adoring little look you normally have, and somehow that pisses him off too. You really need to have everything spelled out for you, huh. He loves you though, really, he genuinely, genuinely does. As more than just an equal— if he could, he’d give you everything. He just doesn’t know how to say it, staring back at the wobbly tears on your face. “I love you,” is what ends up coming out, and then a breath.

And he’d say more if you weren’t such a talker.

Your face goes a little distant for a few seconds, before you shake your head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I will tell you, if you just-”

“I can’t accept that, senpai! You can’t just go around and kill-”

“I was protecting you!”

“From what?!” Before you even give him a chance, a real one, you start righting yourself on the bed and run a hand under your nose. And you stare at him with such disbelief and broken trust that it makes him feel a little dizzy. He doesn’t know exactly how he imagined himself spilling his guts, but it wasn’t like this. “You need to leave. And I need to contact someone from the higher ups to- take care of- I don’t even know,” you sob, “I don’t know how any of this goes. That’s so messed up, Kento.” That’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his first name. Scolding him for a choice he made purely for you. He did this for you. “You need to-”

He can’t let the first time end this way.

“Stop talking.”

“Stop talking?” You echo back to him, and glare, also getting up off the bed and farther away from him— and he can’t help but follow. “What did you think was gonna happen? That I wasn’t going to say anything?” As he gets up with you, you walk back a step, and your eyes flick back and forth between him and the door a few times. But he chases, and you jump in surprise when your back meets the wall, effectively trapping you between the wall and him. “I- Nanami-”

“Kento.”

You barely blink as you take a sharp intake of air, and then hold your hands up to his chest to keep some space between you two. “Look- just- we can talk about this, but I can’t just ignore that there’s a dead body in my house, Kento.” He’s really sick of you talking. You’re lucky he loves your voice so much, because if it was anyone else, he wouldn’t stand for it. Whatever you see in his expression must have you worried, because that slight defiance that remains gets awfully feeble when he reaches for you this time. “You’re scaring me. Please, just- hck- just back up. Let me process this, and then we can talk.”

“No, all your talking just gets in the way.” Your eyes go wide and a wave of heat washes over your features, making you look even more attractive. If he can’t tell you, he’ll just show you. You’ve got it all fucking wrong. What he feels for you is true love. Before you can go on another mad ramble, he grabs you and drags you back to bed, as gently as he can while having his hand screwed tight around your wrist. He wouldn’t ever actually hurt you. As you land on the bed, he holds you down— watching as you open your mouth to talk. But you can’t, because he’s already shoved two fingers between your lips and feels the way your hot, wet tongue squirms as he pushes them down your throat. “There, that’s better.”

Still you’re trying to talk, it’s almost funny. You whine around his fingers and gag when you can’t, breathing his name into an uncomfortable moan that just turns him on. You try to pull your head away, but you can’t. “You’re a lot sweeter when you’re not running your mouth sometimes, baby.” He can’t help it, it just comes out. He likes you so much, and you just look so cute gagging on his fingers and grabbing his sleeve like you’re not sure whether or not to pull or push. Tears start welling up along your waterline when he runs his fingertips over your soft, pink tongue. And his cock twitches in his pants.

That’s the good part, see. Even with all this fighting, you two still get along so well. You make him a better man when he’s around you. At least, in theory. He’s not crazy, he knows that holding you down and making you choke on his fingers isn’t really the best course of action -but you left him no choice- and he’s better off finishing what he started. “If you shut up,” he draws his fingers out of your mouth to start unzipping his pants, “I’ll let you breathe. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you won’t want to talk again.” It’s all up to you, pretty girl. Simple cause and effect. You take one sharp breath as you try to get out from under his weight, but there’s really nowhere you can go.

So you do what you do best, and whine. “Nanami~” It’s a baby-ish little whimper that makes him name sound so fucking good. But still. He grabs your face to squish your cheeks, and stares down at you with such intensity that you keep your cries in.

“It’s Kento.” His voice is a low, soft rumble. He wonder if it gives away the way his body feels right now, standing above you while his cock strains against his pants. They’re getting too tight to be comfortable. “Or daddy- you like that better? Say it.” You shake your head into his grip -but your ears start glowing another color brighter, almost like he’s caught you in a lie. Of course you do. You and him are made to be together. You let out another little squeak before he lets go of you to start undoing his pants. 

That apparently seems to be too much, because suddenly you’re trying to get up as you speak. “No, no, I’m not-” You’re trapped when he forces you back down and now yanks your head back by your hair, making you cry again. “Ow, please senpai— I like you, I really do- but I can’t- I- hang on.” The heat crawls up his neck to his ears watching your eyes go big as the belt falls and his pants go down his thighs. You really do look good on your fucking knees.

“I told you to stop yapping, didn’t I?” He asks in return, and finishes sliding his boxers down, kicking them aside. Then he pulls your face towards his cock and watches as you whine. “Open up for daddy. There’s only one thing your mouth’s good for.” You’re so easy to hold in place, and it sends unimaginable gratification through his body when your little tongue comes out for him. You’re really such a brat, making everything so fucking hard for him. 

You open your mouth enough for him to start pushing inside at just the slightest yank of your hair, making you whine and whimper as you shuffle around between his legs. Your hands come to rest on his thighs, but that doesn’t hold him from sliding the hot head of his cock as far as he can into your mouth right away. You look amazing drooling all over his cock, choking when he starts to move with the most patient moves he can manage. It’s not easy to do much of anything except rock himself on your soft tongue and feel your whining go down his shaft and balls. “There, now you’re making yourself useful. That’s what you do best, hm, fucking brat?”

“Agh, fuck- that’s- such a soft little mouth.” You make him feel heavenly, and by the way you’re shifting down there on the floor -trying and failing to get the friction you want- you’re also feeling it. He can tell by the way you blink up at him so slow, swallowing around him and letting that pretty voice out in the cutest, little moans. Just for him. Only ever for him. “You’re so lucky you’re this fucking cute,” he ends up rasping out, before letting you finally pull back to breathe when you start jittering. “Say something smart again, brat.”

“Agh, daddy,” you sob, drool spilling down your chin, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can tell you are. Your big eyes glossy and cheeks hot, you try to get up from the floor, and he yanks you up to turn you over instead. Your little dress rides up too easily, giving the rest of the way when he shoves it up your back. It’s almost embarrassing to see how wet you are, lacy panties soaked all the way through and peeled too easily aside to reveal that needy pussy. And you don’t even deny it, just shiver when he runs his finger up and down your slicked up cunt. “Please.”

He’s such a sucker for you, fuck. It’s almost like you know it. “My little cock slut, look at that. You’re dripping down your thighs, brat.” He spits on your center once before lining up and sliding in, and watching as your little pussy stretches around his cock with some effort— as you let out a lewd, almost desperate whine. “Fuck.” And Nanami hoists himself over you to start fucking into you, hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out, as you open your legs further to let him in. Your back half hangs pathetically over the end of the bed as he fucks into your tight, hot -so fucking hot and wet and beaming- pussy and his balls clap against you. You feel so good it’s hard to hear anything over his own heartbeat hammering wildly against his ribs.

“Daddy feel good inside?”

“Mhm, agh-yea.”

You too, baby. Nothing in the world feels as good as letting your pussy swallow and suck him in deeper, like you’re trying to hold him in that impossibly hot, blissful clutch forever. He can’t even hear much of your whining and moaning and pitiful struggle, but you probably haven’t stopped. You don’t even have the energy to close your mouth, trying to push back to meet his thrusts more even as he bumps against the end of your pussy— and his one hand is squeezed around your neck. But you look pretty this way. You look useful.

“Tell me how much you like me.”“So~ much, so much, fuck. I’m gonna cum, Kento. Daddy.” Your mouth’s still running when he snakes his hand underneath you to start rubbing at your puffy clit, and feels the way his own body starts to tighten when your walls clench wildly around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want you to cum too, want to feel it- I wanna have you deep inside me forever, ah, ah. Oh, you feel so good, fuck.” It’s almost ironic when he thinks about it. How much he likes you running your mouth like this, begging for more. It’s poetic.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[saturdaynightspecialpresentation]

Poor Things

First of all, Emma Stone’s performance is as good as everybody is saying. Stone takes a very difficult role that easily could have gone very, very wrong and makes it look like the most effortless thing in the world.

I have been looking at the reviews, good and bad, and I think that the minority of people who didn’t vibe with this movie had slightly skewed expectations.

Poor Things starts out at Tetsuo The Iron Man levels of fucked up, but by the end it has dropped to Edward Scissor hands levels of fucked up. This is probably plenty of weirdness for the average movie-goer, but true connoisseurs of mondo cinema should calibrate their expectations.

Second, apparently this is being talked up as a sort of feminist coming of age fable chronicling an everywoman’s sexual awakening and liberation, and it really isn’t that, and I think if you are hoping for that you’ll come away disappointed.

Better, I think, to look at it as an autistic coming of age fable and power fantasy, which I think it does a tremendous job at.

Very minor spoilers under the cut; really, this is more an essay about what I thought the film was about than a review, my review would be that it's somehow simultaneously a feel-good crowd-pleaser AND a movie where an adult woman with the brain of a toddler stabs the eyes out of a corpse with a scalpel and then plays with its penis (I wasn't kidding with the Tetsuo comparison)

Honestly now that I've actually written that out I have maybe underestimated how impressive it is that Yorgos Lanthimos made a movie where that happens on screen but somehow basically everybody loves the movie.

In terms of sex, we do watch Bella discover sex, but she very quickly comes to a conclusion about her relationship with it which never once changes throughout the rest of the movie:

She likes it, she likes it more with an attractive partner, she is utterly lacking in any kind of sexual jealousy, and she doesn't attach too much more to it than that.

This is an odd comparison, but Bella treats sex the way Joey did on Friends. A man acting this way is a sitcom cliche, but a woman acting the same way…

This is a film that is really, really not interested in the real-world consequences of this kind of sex; in fact, given that a pregnancy is the inciting incident of the film, it came off a little weird to me that the possibility of a pregnancy or STD was never really addressed (unless there was a line or two that I missed while I was in the bathroom).

For the most part, though, I was able to get past it by just thinking of it as a heightened world. The sets and settings are extremely artificial, and ultimately I figured, “Hey, if I can buy this kind of thing as harmless and fun in a sitcom, I can buy it in this other kind of heightened reality.

I will say, I don't think Bella is meant to be an every-woman, and that there's textual support for this in the film itself.

All of the women Bella deals with in some way question her approach to sex, making it clear, sometimes through explicit dialog, other times more reading between the lines, that her approach to sex is not for them.

If there’s any particularly feminist message in the film, it’s that when confronted with Bella’s bizarre approach to the world, none of the women get angry at her, and most of the men she meets do.

But Bella’s relationships with other women aren’t really the meat of the film, that’s more about her relationship with men, and particularly the way that they feel, deep in their bones, that they should have control over any woman that they have sex with.

Duncan Wedderburn, when he first discovers Bella and convinces her to go away with him, thinks he is tricking and seducing a beautiful naif who he can use and then discard when he tires of her. Their relationship disintegrates as it becomes clear that Bella hasn’t been tricked at all; she wanted exactly what he was able to give, a chance to sow her wild oats by having some no strings attached sex with an attractive, likable person in an exciting foreign city.

This makes Wedderburn increasingly unhappy and unhinged (He says at one point that he has become what he hates, a “grasping succubus”) much to Bella’s growing consternation. She has no idea why he can’t simply be happy having sex with her and otherwise letting her do what she wants, and he is so committed to a certain vision of gender roles that he can’t even begin to explain it, he can only lash out in frustration.

And that I think is the meatier part of the film; Bella doesn’t so much flout social expectations as she is simply totally unaware that they exist. 

Honestly I think the character isn’t so much coded as autistic as she just is autistic. Bella is a woman who is basically totally unaware of social expectations and constantly taken aback to discover that they exist.

More than that, she has to figure out a way to work around the fact that many of the people who become most enraged by her are also so totally lacking in self-reflection, and view their social situation as so normal, so self-evidently obvious that they cannot explain to her why it is she has made them angry. They suddenly fly into rages that clearly perplex Bella and which they themselves don’t even bother to explain, because they regard their own ideas as self-evident.

Bella is an idealized autistic hero; personally as outlandish as she is I don’t really think the film expects us to take the side of anybody else, and I think there are some fairly subtle and accurate bits of autistic behavior on her part.

She responds to life as a kind of social experiment, attempting to parse out a set of logical rules and, especially in the latter parts of the movie, she often justifies her actions with a perfectly sensible internal logic that the emotional men in her life can’t parse out. Late in the film, when she and Wedderburn are destitute, she prostitutes herself for 30 francs, and with implacable logic, explains the two reasons that Wedderburn ought to be quite happy she has done so: First, her john was much worse at sex than Wedderburn, which ought to satisfy his ego, and second, they now have 30 francs and the potential to earn more.

Wedderburn does not appreciate her logical approach.

Another thing that strikes me as very true is that Bella has a very odd theory of mind for other people. There’s a scene where, traumatized by the unspeakable poverty and suffering she sees in Alexandria, she puts all of Wedderburn’s money in a box and rushes out to give it to the poor. Unfortunately the ship is leaving, but two port attendants tell her that they will be staying on the island, and would be happy to deliver a package. She tells them that she has a big box filled with money and they should give it to the island’s poor, and they agree to do so. Now, the film never tells us one way or another whether they keep their word; but Bella herself retains an iron certainty that they did exactly what she asked them to. Now, we know Bella understands what lying and deceit are, because we’ve seen her trick people before, like when she chloroforms McCandles to run away with Wedderburn. But it never once occurs to her that these sailors might do something similar. Call it paradoxical, but that kind of thinking is common in autistic people.

There’s also the scene where the self-professed cynic Harry Astley shows her the suffering in Alexandria; he admits, when he sees how terribly it has affected her, that he didn’t tell her simply because he thought it was the truth of the world, but that her attitude made him angry, and he wanted to hurt her. A very common part of the autistic coming of age is the slow realization that not everything people tell you is part of a dispassionate, scientific search for the truth.

There’s also a scene in a whorehouse in which Bella argues that it would make more sense to have the women decide who is to sleep with the johns, so that then the john could be more confident that the girl was attracted to him, which he must doubt if he chooses. You can tell I’m autistic because I immediately had the thought, “Well, but the johns would probably be worried that nobody would choose them.”

One of Bella’s fellow working girls instead tells her, “Some of them like the fact that we don’t have a choice”.

[nathaslosthershit]

Off in His Own Little World

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Reader

Summary: When two people love each other very much…

Warnings: Talk of baby makin’ and the beginnings of it

A/N: This was originally a Quinn fic but I just realized I already have a Quinn fic about him getting baby fever and his brothers being annoying so I had to change most of it to fit Jack instead.

Jack had taken his girlfriend to his parents house for the holidays. He knew one of his cousins had recently had a baby, what he hadn’t expected was for the baby to be so adorable, for the infant to get so attached to his partner of two years, and for it to mess with his head so much. Seeing her with the baby had changed him. All he could think about now was her with a baby, with his baby. 

It had begun to piss her off. Jack was in his own little world so much of the time and he refused to acknowledge the difference in his attitude or explain himself. After a full day of socializing, she was tired and just wanted her boyfriend to stop staring off into the distance.

“Okay what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Her harsh words immediately took him out of his daydream. One with her on a boat, at the lake house, with a sleeping baby in her arms. It was his new favorite thing to imagine. He almost went back into his hazy state but was interrupted again by her agitated voice.

“You have been somewhere else for the past three days, Jack! It has been so hard having to do all the socializing because you have been practically catatonic. What is going on? Where are you going?”

She began to get more desperate the longer he stayed silent till he let out a quiet, “I want one.”

“You want what, Jack?”

“A baby”

“...I don’t know what you expect me to do about that”

“I can think of a few things…” “Jack, we are 22 and unmarried. I think the media would lose their mind if you got me pregnant. I mean seriously, they would think you are irresponsible or that I baby trapped you. People are going to start questioning if your priorities are with the team or your family and frankly-” He cuts her off with a kiss. A passionate one. One she knows is just to distract her. One that will definitely lead Jack to getting what he wants if she doesn’t stop it first.

“Jack, I am serious. Why all of a sudden?”

“It's not all of a sudden! I have wanted this for a while. I just- I didn’t know if I wanted to hear what you would say. Yes, I know we are young. Yes, some fans would get mad but fuck them. People will always be mad no matter what I do and there will always be reasons not to do it.”

Now it was her turn to stay silent.

“...do you really want one?”

“More than anything.”

“...Okay”

“Okay? That's it? I mean if you don’t want one then thats not-”

“I want a baby. I want a baby with you. And if you are ready, really ready, then why not.” He kisses her again. Even harder than the first time, if that is even possible. 

In what feels like seconds they are on the bed, her hands in his hair as he starts to kiss her lips, her neck, then her stomach. He takes her pants off and goes to kiss her thighs right before he hears someone yelling out-

“Jack! Come on man, Quinn, Dad, and I are gonna play pool and we need another person for pairs. Come down!” Luke screams. This stops Jack for a few seconds before he moves up to kiss you again.

“Jack, he won’t sto-”

“He will if we ignore him.”

“Jack! Get off her and let’s go” His brother yells once more. This, momentarily, stops Jack’s assault on your lips.

“I really do not like him right now.” She says.

“I never do.” He is getting desperate at this point. After years of his brothers ruining shit for him, this is the one moment he begs some higher power to give him peace.

She finally pushes him off her neck to make eye contact.

“Honey, he won’t stop.”

“He will. He has to. And I’m trying to get you pregnant so can you please be quiet and let me work.”

Luckily, Luke seemed to have given up after screaming a few more times. He was pissed at Jack in the morning for ignoring him, but the flustered look on your two faces at breakfast stopped him from bringing it up. And a month later when he found out he was going to be an uncle, he had already forgotten about the whole thing.

Jack didn't. He was still mad.

[raayllum]

Can you explain why Claudia is so upset with Terry when they reunite after he leaves? And why Terry, of all people, looks so guilty with her that he can't even look her in the eye? It's one of those things where you know this should all be reversed, but isn't. Why? Why is the betrayer so hostile to the betrayed?

God I loved the messy as fuck whatever they had going on Claudia and Terry dynamic in S7, and I think there's a few reasons why

One of the cruxes of Claudia's character is that she is attached to seeing herself as a good person, and others as not-good by comparison. This means that she can engage in the exact same behaviour and justify it while assuming that others' reasonings couldn't possibly measure up.

This cognitive dissonance is not exclusive to Claudia (Callum and Rayla in particular have a tendency to justify each other's choices in ways they don't with other characters, i.e. Rayla viewing dark magic use being 'evil' except when Callum is using it and he's the 'goodest' person she knows) but the focus on 'my view of myself' largely is. Most other characters in TDP are focused on "I still view this other person as a good person," not being focused on "I view myself as a good person". But Claudia is, and it's this core desire being increasingly pitted against "I will do vile, awful things to keep my family together" that are constantly duking it out.

When Claudia finds Soren and Terry waiting for her, it's clear that not only has Terry joined her brother, but has turned against her (as he could've left and then just fucked off somewhere else). This association with Soren, I think, is one of the things that gets her haunches raised, since Soren made it very clear what he thinks the last time they saw one another in 4x07:

SOREN: You have to stop trying to release the greatest evil this world has ever known. CLAUDIA: I knew you wouldn't understand.

All Claudia hears is "there's something wrong with you." That she's the bad guy and on the Wrong side (which, to be fair, Soren also calls her and Viren bad humans when trying to wake Rex Igneous in 4x09). And, by extension, that Soren is better than her. More correct, more moral, more Right.

And Claudia cannot stand feeling judged. She cannot stand being treated like 'the bad guy' (because of course from her perspective, everything she does is right) and she struggles to hold a conception of "I did something genuinely wrong and can still be a good person" (see: "We're not going to the dungeons Soren, we didn't do anything wrong") usually leaning into one or the other, and normally the latter.

So Terry being with Soren is also "you think I'm wrong, you think I'm bad, and you think you're Better than me" (vs Aaravos' "believed we could be better, so he gave us magic"). She thinks the pair are there to stop her, and she's not wrong, on a certain level.

So when Soren makes a gesture of good will, openly contingent on Terry wanting to spare her ("You're here to save me? How generous [...] I can change, and you will help me. Did I get everything?" Karim vibes), it's just seen as "you're showing off how/why you think you're Better than me" and was, quite frankly, never going to work.

Soren setting down his sword came closer, as it's more reciprocal, and it also symbolizes Soren setting down his mantle/duty (the same sword that killed Viren the first time, presumably). But Soren makes another mistake; the same mistake he made in 4x07:

Dad is dead, Claudia. You don't have to do what he wants anymore.

Set down your staff, Claudia. Dad's staff.

But while Claudia has been doing stuff for Viren, she hasn't done what he wanted in a long time. She's been doing what she wants ("You are not letting go, Dad!") for a hot second, and now alongside Aaravos. (I need to write a scene on her and Aaravos' talk in 7x06, but that's for another day.) And that has included taking down elves and dragons as a whole (and any elf that doesn't help her) for a while.

The dragons and the elves, all the arrogant fools blinded by the searing light of their own self-righteousness.

They are wrong, and she and Aaravos are right ("So much we can make right"). This is a very black-and-white viewpoint in many ways, one that some characters are faster as dismantling than others, but I have no doubt that Arc 3 will push it to its breaking point for all of them. Soren and Terry have thrown in their loyalties with the elves and dragons, since Terry was previously a "good elf Exception" alongside Aaravos because they were both helping her and, as previously discussed, Terry has now turned against her, and all the baggage Claudia carries about such a thing is now dumped onto him by proxy (which Terry doesn't necessarily know or understand).

So what does he look so guilty over?

Honestly? The illusion plan. I'm sure he's worried that Claudia might get hurt, and that things might escalate / go south, but he is ultimately there with a plan that is not what he wanted. What Terry wanted was to find the real Lissa and give Claudia a real chance to connect with her mother and maybe change her ways. But it's not real. It's deception, and he knows it.

TERRY: You lied to me! AARAVOS: I never lie. I simply said we needed a big feather and a very small feather. That is all. TERRY: No. You say you never lie, what you do is worse. You tell people half-truths and let people fill in the rest. You make people lie to themselves. It's deception. It's manipulation, and it's wrong.

She betrayed him, and now in his own way he's betraying her.

So what makes him decide to turn around and do something... similar, shall we say? There's a few things. The first is that they're on a time limit and have no way to reach Lissa. The second is that it's plausible the others were going to do it anyway, and Terry accompanied them because 1) he couldn't stop them, 2) he felt responsible, and 3) hoped that his presence would make a positive difference to Claudia.

The second is the other half of what Aaravos says to Terry, I think.

TERRY: I'll tell Claudia. AARAVOS: Oh, it will change nothing. She loves me. [...] And what of Claudia, then? She knows so much more than she tells you, and she keeps it that way to protect you.

Now, Terry rightfully understands that Claudia wasn't keep things from him to protect him; she did it to use him and to keep him from leaving ("I knew he'd leave once he found out"). However, Terry being willing to live in a half-truth and employ one on Claudia because he genuinely believes it will help her, because he thinks it's a truth he needs to withhold to protect her ("You have to promise me that no harm will come to Claudia" is most easily kept if she backs down)... that I can believe, especially since it lets him believe that she's capable of change/quitting. He wants to Save her, not use her.

That doesn't mean he thinks it won't Hurt.

[yanderes-galore]

I'd like to ask for a Lego monkie kid Mk with your prompts 6, 12 and 14.

Sure! I love MK, such a sweetheart... despite the tendency to... oh I don't know... trap his partner?

Yandere! MK Prompts 6, 12, 14

"A good partner must be willing to make sacrifices for their beloved! Don't you agree?"

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Isolation, Attempted Imprisonment/Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Overprotective behavior, Consensual turned forced relationship.

You love your boyfriend... he's always your sweetheart.

How could you not? MK has always attended to your every need. He's a hero, beloved by many. MK has always vowed to keep you safe....

You'd never suspect him of anything.

Everyone expects heroes to be perfect. Unfortunately, it's exactly the opposite. Ever since MK's had to deal with the issues around his town... He's never been the same.

Around you, he's all giddy and excited. However, all the traumatic experiences MK has gone through has hardened him. How could he not worry about potential threats?

Especially when it comes to you....

MK knew he had to do something as your partner. After all, how can he protect you if he doesn't have his eye on you? The idea of losing you... well...

It stresses MK out more than anything.

MK does his best to show nothing's wrong around you. After all, he's your hero, he loves you. It's his job to have you loved, cared for... and most importantly... safe.

MK's paranoia only seemed to worsen the longer he dated you. The longer he was with you, the more he was attached. Horrible events are always bound to happen when it comes to MK....

At first, his obsession over your safety started by just following you around.

Watching your daily life or clinging to your side was originally how he tried to soothe his fears. Although, even that wasn't enough for MK. Eventually... He wanted to have a future with you...

But such hopes were quickly dashed once you found out his little plan to keep you safe.

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

It was bound to happen, really. You, as his partner, were going to find out about your boyfriend's imperfections eventually. Although, it wasn't anything small...

You had found a whole room in his house dedicated to you, surrounded with your interests and all sorts of different notes... along with a large bed... all meant for you.

"It isn't ready yet, baby... But, um, I was meant to sorta... ease you into it...?" MK panics, unable to look at your distressed gaze.

"Ease me into what...?" You ask shakily, looking around the room. It's your favorite color and everything. Is this the reason he didn't want you over at his house for a long time...?

"Ease you into, y'know, living with me...?" MK asks shyly, fidgeting with his hands.

"MK... it's a bit too soon—" You try to speak, but you're still in shock... and the look in his eyes doesn't help.

"A good partner must be willing to make sacrifices for their beloved! Don't you agree?" MK desperately blurts out, caging you in the room. You panic, was he trying to trap you here...?

"I get that, but-" You try to speak but MK doesn't give you time to recover.

"If you live with me, I can keep you safe! That way we can both sleep easy at night... and I can make sure nothing hurts you!" MK forces a smile, but you can see the desperation in his eyes. "C'mon, baby... It's perfect!"

"MK... You didn't need to do all this behind my back! I'm fine... I can be okay at my own home! We probably shouldn’t live together so soon...." You try to talk him down, getting close to slip by the door.

Mk, however, pushes you back and locks the door to your new room...

Your new home.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!" MK pleads, stepping closer as you back away.

You try to find a way to avoid him but there's no use. The room has no windows you can open and MK has the door locked. You try your best to plead, but MK doesn't listen.

"Babe, please..."

"You've SEEN what I deal with out there, right?" MK states sternly, glaring at you as you back yourself near the bed. "Lady Bone Demon, Azure Lion... I've had to deal with calamity after calamity since becoming Monkey King's student!"

You're practically on the bed at this point as MK stands in front of you. There's annoyance in his eyes, but desperation glistens the most. There's no reasoning with your boyfriend...

Is he even your boyfriend at this point...?

"You... just don't understand, baby." MK tries to reason, gaze softening once he sees your fear. "You don't understand the world's dangers... but I do."

MK gets on the bed, sitting between your legs as he cups your cheeks. His gaze and smile are soft, but you feel threatened in his grip. MK, your perfect boyfriend who you used to trust...

Scares you more than any demon could.

"This is why I made this room for you. This is why I need to protect you. I'm meant to be a hero... and you're meant to be my partner. Baby... living here won't be so bad!" MK grins, acting like you two are going to be married or something.

"Just... Let me protect you...." MK whispers, leaning in closer to ghost his lips over your own.

"Let me love you like your boyfriend should...."

It's then you wonder if any of this is real. You wonder if this is all some nightmare your brain conjured due to MK's odd behavior. Maybe you're not really trapped and this is a sign to reconsider your relationship with MK—

Yet, the moment you feel MK's lips on your own, you know it's real...

That thought alone is enough to make you cry.