#I refuse to clean his litter box though. He has two hands of his own.

[karniss-bg3]

WAIT!! Kar’niss can purr?????!!!!!???

Yes!

...Well, sort of.

While the term “purr” does fit to describe his sounds, it’s not exactly like what we would expect from cats. I’d say it’s more akin to a reverberated croak or trill. I don’t believe Larian included the isolated background crowing he does in the game files but it is present anytime he speaks. It also seems to intensify in response to high emotional stimulus, such as rage and ecstasy. So I imagine when he isn’t speaking but he feels very content, calm, or deeply annoyed then he will idly purr in response.

Another neat addition to his speech is how breathy every word is. He pants a lot and it sounds like the very act of pushing words out is an exhausting endeavor for him. This would make sense considering his anatomy is fifteen flavors of fucked up. There is a debate on if the organs in his torso still function or if all of his inner workings are delegated to the spider body alone. Either way, his humanoid lungs wouldn’t be equipped to supply oxygen to a form that large which would make breathing and speaking a chore. Either that or the book lungs in his abdomen have to work overtime to deliver air to his mouth due the distance between the two and the same issue crops up as a result. I’m not sure if this was intentional on Larian’s part but if so I think it’s a clever addition to his character design. It tells the player a lot without explaining it. Show, don’t tell, as they say.

The voice clip included here is one of the few times we witness Kar’niss pretty pleased with himself. As usual, his tone is very labored and breathy. But we can also hear the background reverb that clings to his speech. I really enjoy the sound effect, more than I probably should. I’ve always wanted an eight legged cat.

Thanks for the ask!

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'Thank You for the Venom', chapter 10 🎸 🗡️

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten Summary

Adam loses his patience with Lute when she won't let him take care of her without a fight.

Who is here for some close proximityyyyyyy?! 🙋🏼‍♀️

All I'm going to say is that the next few chapters are going to be fun. SO much fun. Buckle up, buttercups!

Thanks @branded-rose for beta-ing as always, you wonderful human <3

Neither Adam or Lute said anything on the way to his apartment.

Lute had decided, for fucking once, that she didn’t feel up to talking or backchatting him and instead spent the trek back sulking in his arms, refusing to look at him.

If he was being honest, the silence was more than welcomed. It gave Adam time to think, to form a game plan for the week ahead. His objective? To not fuck his lieutenant while she recovered from her injury. As tempting as it was, he couldn’t risk her reinjuring herself and taking more time off training. 

Considering he had a meeting with Sera coming up, he needed Lute to heal up fast, lest he be subjected to a lecture on how he wasn’t taking this seriously enough, why was his lieutenant always getting injured under his watch, blah, blah-fucking-blah.

Though, now that he came to think of it, he was the guy who literally invented sex. Surely he could come up with some creative positions so as to not do further damage to her ankle. 

He found himself lost in his thoughts as they approached his front door, trying to think of the most stationary way to bury himself inside her when a familiar, irritating voice quickly brought him back to reality.

“Sir? Sir. Are you even listening to me?”

Adam glanced down at Lute, who was waving a hand in front of his face, looking wildly unimpressed.

“Course I was,” he said defensively, lying through his teeth. He had absolutely no idea what she’d said - and frankly, couldn’t care, considering he’d been thoroughly enjoying the visuals that accompanied his dirty thoughts.

“Then what was I talking about?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to roll his own in response.

“Uhh… you were complaining about something or other? Hold up - could you reach into my pocket and grab my key for me?” 

What a save.

Lute scowled at him, unimpressed. “A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt, you know.”

Adam resisted the urge to drop her on the floor for being a colossal pain in his ass. Injury be damned, she was already getting on his nerves and they hadn’t even walked through the front door yet.

It was going to be a long ass week together, and he wasn’t sure which one of them would kill the other first.

“Fucking hell - fine. Grab the key from my pocket and unlock the front door, so we can hurry the fuck up and get inside, please?”

Smiling smugly, she reached her hand into his pocket, digging around for his key, her fingers roughly hitting the front of his hip and thigh through the fabric of his robe. “Was that so hard, sir?”

“If you keep digging around like that babe, you’ll find something else in there that’s hard.”

“Ugh. You disgust me.” She threw him the flattest look, producing the key from his pocket and unceremoniously shoving it into the keyhole.

When they stepped through the front door, Adam felt the slightest pang of shame at not cleaning up after himself from the night before. Empty wine bottles and takeout containers littered his counter, while there was no way Lute’s keen eye would miss the hot pink bra draped lazily over the back of his armchair.

Layla had forgotten to pick up after herself again.

“Really?” she asked dryly, raising a brow at him as he carried her over to his couch. “I’m surprised you don’t have a lost and found box permanently stationed outside your front door.”

“You know Lute, that’s the most intelligent thing that I think has ever come out of your mouth,” he mused, setting her down carefully so as not to bump her injured leg. “I’ll be right back.”

He grabbed the bra off the back of his chair and wandered into his bedroom, quickly grabbing his phone to text Layla.

Adam: You forgot your bra. Again.

As expected, considering Layla never got off her phone, it vibrated in his hand almost instantly.

Layla: Did your pretty little patient notice?

Adam: Yes. 

Layla: She’d look good in it, too. Don’t you think?

Adam: Not helping.

Layla: I know. Good luck. 

Snorting, he pocketed his phone again. Layla had picked up on the tension between him and Lute at the bar a couple of months go, before he’d followed her outside. She’d nagged him about it for fucking weeks, until a moment where she quite literally had him by the balls and he relented, admitting that there had been something between them, but nothing more had happened.

He didn’t need the truth spreading around the barracks like wildfire, considering how fucking chatty the girls were. Still, he was thankful that Layla seemed to have kept her mouth shut, even though she nagged him almost daily about Lute.

As he reminded himself to change his sheets later, he drew on the uncomfortable conversation he’d had with Layla the night before in his bed.

~

“Why do you even fucking care?” Adam asked, rolling over to look at her. “I wouldn’t have picked you to be the jealous type.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Layla said simply as she sat up, letting the duvet fall, exposing her ample chest as she inspected a strand of her hair. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy our hookups because they scratch an itch, so to speak, but emotionally you’re kind of a giant walking red flag.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said bitterly. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself.”

“Oh, please, Adam,” she snorted. “That’s not what I’m here for. You want someone to stroke your ego? Get a girlfriend. Or, man up and do something about your little crush on Lute.”

“I’ll give you something you can stroke,” he said in a low voice, reaching over to cup one of her breasts, massaging it softly, choosing to ignore her dig at him as he kneaded it softly.

She glanced at his hand, her expression bored, then shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.” Stretching, she slid out of his bed and began getting dressed.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I told you - I had an itch, you scratched it. Now I’m done.”She leaned both arms on the bed, staring Adam down with her large golden eyes, her expression unusually firm.

“Stop being such a pussy Adam, and just shoot your shot,” she said sternly. “I have a feeling that you’ll be a happier man for it.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re on about.”

“That’s your problem then, not mine.”

With that, she sashayed out of his room, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

~

Shoving the memory to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about it any further, Adam threw the bra into his closet before grabbing two pillows off his bed and trudging back out into his living room. 

Lute’s thumbs were moving swiftly across her phone screen as she typed furiously, her eyes unmoving. If she noticed Adam come back into the room, she didn’t acknowledge him.

“Who are you texting?”

She startled slightly, glaring at him as he took a seat next to her on the couch. “Vaggie. I’m telling her what I’ll need for the next week.”

“Anything special I should know about?”

Her cheeks flushed and she narrowed her eyes further at him. “No.”

“That’s a lie if I ever fucking heard one. Here - hold this,” he shoved a pillow at her, knocking her phone out of her hands, causing it to bounce away from her and land close to her feet. Grabbing it to pass back to her, he snuck a quick look at her screen.

Vaggie: You sure you’re okay? You could have stayed with me.

Lute: You’d get sick of me.

Vaggie: That’s a lie.

Lute: Plus, he had a point. His place is bigger than our apartments. 

Vaggie: I guess. If you need to tap out at any time though, call me. What do you need?

Lute: I’ll be alright. Just the usual stuff. Clothes and toiletries. Also my protein powder and shaker. And a book or two. Third drawer in the kitchen. You know the type.

Vaggie: Unusual hiding spot for a book, but okay.

“Why do you keep your books in the kitchen drawer?” Adam asked, extending his arm so Lute could take her phone. “That’s a fucking weird spot. Most normal people keep theirs on a bookshelf.”

“None of your fucking business,” she snapped, snatching her phone back and locking it. “Next time, don’t read my messages, creep.”

“Oh, calm your tits, it wasn’t like you had anything interesting to say,” he huffed, laying the remaining pillow across the top of his thighs. “Alright, I’m about to take a look at your leg and see how bad the damage is. I’d suggest biting into that pillow while I do it.”

“Why on earth would I need to bite into a pillow?”

Adam sighed and scratched behind his neck, not caring for her attitude. “Because, and I hate to break this to you, babe, but it’s not going to tickle when I take your shoe off. In fact, it’s going to hurt like hell. So, instead of you yelling at the top of your lungs and my neighbours get pissed off that they can hear someone screaming in here again, just bite into the fucking pillow, would you?” 

“Do you make screaming loud enough to piss your neighbours off a regular habit?” she asked, cocking a brow at him. He snorted and gently lifted her legs, scooting closer to her so that he could place them on top of the pillow on his lap.

“It’s not me they’re complaining about, babe.”

She shot him a withering look and he snickered, shaking his head. “You are so easy to rile up, Dangertits.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Not gonna happen. Anyway, get ready because I’m about to take your shoe off and it’s gonna hurt.” He started undoing the laces on her trainer, taking care not to knock her foot.

“Somehow, I think I’ll manage,” she muttered, “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about this. It’s a fucking ankle sprain, but you’re making out like I’ve lost a goddamn limb or something”

He closed his eyes, trying to find the inner strength to deal with her shitty attitude. He wasn’t the most patient man at the best of times, but she was really testing him now.

“Lute,” he ground out through gritted teeth, “shut the fuck up and stop being such a brat.”

She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms looking away from him. “I am not being a brat.”

“You fucking are. You’re pouting at me again.”

“I am not,” she argued, aiming a swift kick at him with her good leg. He caught it mid-air before it connected with his shoulder, glowering at her.

“If you don’t shut your mouth,” he growled, “I’m going to shut it for you.”

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” she said sardonically, her face twisting into a mock fearful expression. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Don’t push your fucking luck with me.” He leaned over, their chests just touching as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, her blazing golden eyes meeting the yellow of his mask. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to help you here, not make things worse. Stop running your fucking mouth and start listening to me. That’s an order. Do you fucking understand me, Lieutenant?”

Her lip curled into a snarl. “I didn’t ask you to take care of me, sir.”

“I couldn’t really give a shit what you asked for,” he said coolly, letting go of her face roughly and resuming his original position on the couch. “Shoe’s coming off now, by the way. Get ready - or not, I’m not bothered either way.”

He gripped the heel of her trainer and tugged downwars, trying not to move her actual foot as much as possible. Lute hissed, then let out a cry of pain as he gently wiggled the shoe in order to ease it off her swollen foot.

“That hurts!” she yelled, throwing her head back against the armrest of the couch.

“Bite the goddamn pillow, Lute, or my neighbours will think I’m murdering someone.”

“It’s Heaven, nobody gets murdered here,” she growled.

“Well, it’s either that or they’ll think you’re an animal and into some kinky shit, so if you want them to keep thinking that, go ahead and be my guest. I don’t care.”

He was relieved to see her finally press the pillow into her face, her scream muffled as he finally managed to get her shoe and sock off.

Adam had seen his fair share of soft tissue injuries during his time as Commander of the Exorcist army - severe bruising, strains and sprains were commonplace, especially during training sessions. In fact, they probably made up at least half of the incident reports he had to fill out. But, in classic Lute fashion, she had managed to spectacularly outdo everybody else, sporting the most brilliant ankle sprain he had ever seen.

Her skin was no longer pale, instead now heavily bruised with patches of vibrant oranges and yellows that spread from the tips of her toes right up to past the hem of her leggings, concentrated mostly around her ankle - which had turned a particularly nasty shade of vermillion. The afflicted area had also swelled to twice its normal size, looking unnatural next to her muscular right leg.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, gently running his fingers over her swollen skin. “Not sure if I should congratulate you on doing such a great job, or be pissed that you’re going to be out of action for a while.”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced up at her and was surprised to find that tears had formed in the corners of her eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” he backtracked, feeling uncomfortable at her sudden shift in demeanour. Shit, he was hopeless when it came to women crying in front of him, he never had any idea what to do, and no matter what he said, he tended to just make it worse. “A week off work, at the most.”

She looked away, and he pretended not to notice as she quickly wiped her eyes. Not that she deserved it for being such a pain in the ass earlier. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for her. Her misery almost made her seem normal.

“I don’t want to take a week off work,” she said thickly. “We’ve got too much to do. And - and you have a meeting with Sera and -”

Adam cut her off, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about my meeting with Sare-bear, she doesn’t have to know everything that goes on at training. But, Lute, just listen,” he let one of his hands come to rest on her knee in a comforting gesture.

“You need to swallow your fucking pride and do as I say, alright? I swear I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m trying to help you get back to normal as soon as possible. Believe it or not, you’re not invincible, but if you just rest, you’ll heal quicker. Okay? So, just…fucking chill.”

He gave her knee a reassuring pat, and as she looked up at him through her damp lashes, he felt oddly compelled to comfort her further. He wasn’t entirely sure where the feeling came from, or what it meant exactly, but all he knew was that he needed to show her that he cared. So he lifted the hand that was resting on her leg and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

He found himself studying how small her hands were, how if he held their hands up together, the tips of her fingers would barely reach past his palms. How could such tiny hands be responsible for spilling so much Sinner blood, year after year?

Lute cast her eyes downwards into her lap and nodded, resigned. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief and let his head fall backwards. “Finally, she listens to me,” he muttered to his ceiling. “It’s only taken God knows how fucking long.”

He managed to catch the pillow just before it hit him in the face.

***

Lute was on the verge of falling asleep when Vaggie turned up at Adam’s apartment, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a scowl plastered on her face as he greeted her with an obnoxiously loud, “‘Sup, Vagasaurous!”

She couldn’t hear most of their conversation from her position on the couch due to the fact that they were speaking in hushed voices, but she was positive she heard Vaggie stage-whisper, “What do you mean she hasn’t had any fucking painkillers?” at one point.

If they spoke much after that, she had no recollection of it as she let her eyes rest, drifting off to sleep.

When she woke, she was surprised to feel something soft covering her bare shoulders. Opening her eyes, she found a blanket over her, considerately tucked neatly under her body. Vaggie must have come in and made sure she was warm, knowing Adam wouldn’t have the care factor to do so.

Sitting up, Lute hissed, grimacing as pain seared through her ankle, which was resting gently atop one of the pillows Adam had brought out from his bedroom. Another considerate gesture from Vaggie.

She really was such a good friend.

“Bout time you woke up.”

Her eyes darted around, finding Adam sitting at his counter flicking through something on his phone. 

“How long was I asleep for?” she asked, drawing the blanket up under her chin. She didn’t love the idea of him being around her, awake, while she slept. What if she did something embarrassing, like snored, or drooled… or worse, talked in her sleep?

Given some of the… intense dreams she’d had over the past few months that may or may not have involved her boss, she reall, really hoped she didn’t sleeptalk.

Adam looked up from his phone as he set it on his counter, which was now rid of the rubbish that had been strewn across it when they first arrived at the apartment. At least he’d taken the liberty of cleaning up while she slept. “A couple hours? You were pretty out of it.”

“Really?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Also, you have the funniest little snore. It’d almost be cute if it wasn’t coming from you.”

“I do not snore!” Lute cried indignantly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Babe. You snored. Besides, how would you know if you do or don’t? Anybody ever told you that you have?”

“No,” she admitted, deliberately choosing not to elaborate further - he didn’t need to know it was because she’d never slept next to anybody before. She’d never hear the end of it and besides, it was absolutely none of his business.

“Well, either this was something special you saved just for me, or all the men you’ve ever shared a bed with sleep like the dead.”

“Again, sir, it’s Heaven. Most people here sleep like the dead because they are dead.”

“Fuck, it was nice and peaceful while you were comatose,” Adam muttered under his breath, sliding off his stool, “even if you were snoring.” 

Lute watched with mild interest as he opened kitchen cupboards, continuing to mutter to himself. It was odd seeing him in such a domesticated environment - given his status in Heaven as the First Man and how obnoxious he was, she’d expected him to live in a more luxurious, gaudy home. In reality, apart from an overly-large TV, and the fact that the footprint of his apartment was slightly larger than hers, his home wasn’t very impressive at all.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he made his way over to her and sat on the coffee table in front of her, holding a glass of water.

“Your little scissor-sister bestie chewed me out for not giving you these sooner, so hurry up and take them before she turns up at my door again.” He extended his hand, uncurling his fist to reveal two small blue pills. “They should stop the pain while you’re sitting still.”

“I’m not in pain,” Lute said quickly, eyeing the pills, “I’m fine.” She didn’t want him thinking she was weak enough to need medication. That would just be pathetic, especially for something as minor as a sprained ankle.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, did we or did we not just have a conversation about this?” Adam snapped, “take the fucking pills Lute, before I force them down your throat.”

Glaring at him, she snatched the pills from his outstretched hand, but before she could pull away his hand closed tightly over hers. He moved off the coffee table, kneeling in front of her, once again closing space between their bodies.

She glanced down at their hands, and noticed that he must have taken his gloves off while she was asleep, because they were bare. She’d seen him without them before, but he was close enough now that she couldn’t help but notice the sprinkling of fine ash-brown hair that crept up the back of his hand.

It was also warm, and strong. If it were anybody else holding her hand, she’d admit to liking how that felt. She kept that thought to herself.

“You,” he started, his voice now low and dangerous, “are really pissing me off now. Cut the bullshit, stop being a stubborn little bitch and let me take fucking care of you, alright?”

“I’m not weak,” she hissed, “I’m not some helpless little girl who needs saving.”

“Nobody said you were. Shut up and take the painkillers, Lute.” He let go of her hand and shook his head in frustration.

Scowling, she shoved the pills in her mouth and swallowed, grimacing at the taste as she struggled to get them down her throat. She held out her hand for the glass of water and Adam handed it to her unceremoniously.

Once she’d managed to chase the pills with the water, she thrust the glass back in his direction. 

“Was that so hard?” 

She sighed. “Yes actually, it was.”

“It would have been a fuckton easier if you’d just listened to me.”

“Where did you even get painkillers, anyway? It’s not like anybody here needs them.”

He snorted. “You think I’m going to smuggle hard liquor from Hell every year for our post-Extermination Day rager, and not be smart enough to also steal something to help with the hangover the next day?”

“Oh, I feel so honoured you gave me your special hangover pills.”

“So you fucking should be, I only get a few a year.” 

She turned her head to gaze at him, still seated on the floor in front of her. He looked as tired as she felt. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“This. Making sure I’m alright. You don’t care about me.”

“Bullshit. I care about all my girls, Lute, and that includes you.” He scooted closer, so his side leaned against the couch, his body facing hers. “You just make my job more difficult because you’ve got more of a tendency to bite back than the others.”

Lute didn’t say anything, instead choosing to adjust the waistband of her leggings, which were starting to dig into her and get uncomfortable. She desperately needed a shower.

“You know what’s going to be difficult?” she groaned, realising another roadblock they’d have to tackle. 

“What?”

She grimaced, not wanting to admit it out loud - but what choice did she have?

“Showering.”

Adam blinked at her, confused. “Oh, yeah we can do that. No biggie, I’ll just carry you in, you can do your thing and when you’re ready just call me and I’ll come get you. Easy as fuck.”

“Sir. That’s not going to work. How am I even supposed to stand in the shower, or get in and out?

He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Shit, I didn’t think of that. Unless…”

“I’m not showering with you,” Lute said quickly.

Adam snorted. “Babe, that is not where my mind was going, but now that you mention it, if you can put your big girl panties on and be an adult about this, it would be the easiest solution.”

She glared at him. “No, sir. What was your other plan?”

“I have a bath. It’s probably easier to get you in there.”

She swallowed, unconvinced. “I haven’t had a bath since -”

Adam held a hand up, silencing her. “Since I busted into your apartment. Yeah, yeah, I know, spare me the lecture. As far as I see this playing out Dangertits, you’ve got three options. One, take a bath. I help you in, get you settled, then come and get you when the time’s up. Easy. Two, we shower together. Not gonna lie, the thought of it excites me, but you’d have to keep your eyes closed the whole time, because this,” he tugged at the bottom of his hood, “would be coming off.”

“I can keep my eyes closed, I’ve done it before,” she retorted, the words escaping her lips before she had the chance to hold them in. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth, utterly mortified at her inadvertent admission of wanting to shower with him. Her stomach twisted into a thousand knots as she frantically wondered how the fuck she was going to talk her way out of this. 

She wanted to die.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning. “Believe me, I know you can. Let’s just say the last time I asked you to, I was very impressed with how well you can follow instructions when you don’t fucking backchat me.”

Lute sank lower into the couch, pulling the blanket over her head so Adam wouldn’t see how her face and chest were basically glowing fluorescent. So she didn’t have to look at his stupid smug fake face as it smirked at her.

“What’s my third option?” she muttered, her voice strained.

“You don’t bathe at all for the next week. Which is fucking gross.”

She felt him rip the blanket away from her, and she yelped at the sensation of the cool air on her bare skin, goosebumps creeping up her arms. She glared up at Adam, who was now standing over her, blanket tossed to the side.

“Was that necessary?” she asked, folding her arms over her stomach.

He shrugged. “Not really, no, but I need an answer, and I didn’t feel like you were going to give me one, so I had to do something.. What’s it gonna be, babe?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” she groaned, “I’ll take a bath.”

“Slightly disappointed you didn’t suggest the shower, to be honest.” He bent down and slid one arm under her knees, and the other around her waist, lifting her up off the couch effortlessly. “Come on. Let’s get you clean. Want me to give you a sponge bath while we’re at it?”

Lute turned her head and let it rest against Adam’s chest as he carried her to his bathroom, taking in his scent - woody, aromatic. Slightly peppery, even. Masculine. 

Intoxicating. 

For all the times he’d been in her personal space, she’d never really paid attention to how he smelt. She was usually too busy being annoyed by his presence.

Or, he had her preoccupied in other ways.

As for his comment about the sponge bath?

Lute felt that sometimes, some questions were best left unanswered.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

in your earlier ask you said that yves is pretty much anti child so is he also anti pet? or maybe anti puppy/kitten/baby animal? when you described yves pretty much conditioning reader to dislike kids it reminded me when i got my kitten when she was three weeks old. it was during the lockdown so although i was there 24/7 i was lacking sleep because she refused to sleep on her own and i had to feed her every two hours and when she got older she got hyper and i needed to play with her so she could chill out a little more. i remember as i put her to sleep in my lap for the third time i thought to myself “is this what babies are like? but worse, dirtier and for a longer time?” as much as i love my little fur baby i don’t think i could go through that again so i wonder yves’ thoughts on pets. he gives off those vibes that he hates fur everywhere and can’t stand barking lol. but then again if reader wants a pet im assuming he’ll accommodate somehow.

Pets that need his constant attention like most mammals and noisy animals like the majority of birds are a big no for him.

However, he doesn't mind having reptilians as pets. As long as they're big enough to not lose them. He is indifferent to fishes, but he sees them more as home decor than actual living beings. Something akin to owning lava lamps.

He especially likes snakes. It fits with the aesthetic of his house and they're one of the lowest maintenance pets there is. He would meet all of its physical needs, but other than that, he wouldn't care to spend more time with it than necessary. The snake will be locked up in its enclosure at all times, unless you want to interact with it and he knows that your personality wouldn't lead to trouble. He knows everything there is to know about the snake, yet he sees it as a mere display piece for his living room.

Yves despises insects, he uses the presence of them as a sign that the environment isn't clean, and he does not appreciate having to think his house is filthy. No matter how much research he does on them and how many results show that insects do not necessarily equal dirty, Yves just could not accept them.

He is not squeamish, though. Yves despises them but he is not afraid of them, he knows how to handle a tarantula gently and keep calm when it decides to crawl under his turtleneck. If you threw a bucket of cockroaches on him he would not scream or flail, he would dodge it gracefully before dusting himself off. If any got onto him, he will just pick them off his clothes as if they're paper stickers. Yves will not beat around the bush and try to find a roll of newspaper or a bug spray, he is squashing that colony of spiders with his bare hands.

The way he could simply grab a handful of mealworms without hesitation makes the world think he loves bugs. He doesn't, not one bit.

You could simply shove him in a vat full of writhing maggots and he would come out as if he took a leisure swim in the pool, combing his hair with his fingers to get rid of any leftovers.

Yves would be annoyed more than horrified, lecturing you that pushing him into ponds of worms is rude while he jerks his head to expel the ones that are stuck in his ears.

Not to say he is inept at taking care of them. Yves can be an excellent caretaker for any and every animal. His research skills are unbelievably godly and he loathes the idea of him being perceived as incompetent in anything.

Yves also has a strangely high tolerance for all things disgusting and vile, he could clean up the most brutal bloody murder scene complete with mutilated bodies, decomposition, faeces, urine, vomit and other bodily fluids without wearing gloves or a gas mask; and still have an appetite to eat lunch immediately after. Vacuuming fur and sifting through the litter box is nothing to him. He just does not find much fulfillment in owning a pet. Hence, a pet becomes a parasite in his life, and he detests all things vermin.

If you wanted a furry companion so badly, he will hit the books and review the patterns in your life again.

Do you really want a pet or are you actually just bored? If it's the latter, he could effectively fill your time and make you forget about your desire for an animal companion. He could also negotiate his way out of this too.

Are you someone who hyper fixate on something or someone, then lose all interest after a few months? Then, he could wait it out. Taking care of your newest breathing toy as he counts down until you finally decide to abandon it and move on to greener pastures.

Are you someone who easily gives up at the first encounter of a problem? Maybe all it takes for you to drop the interest entirely is a meow that's too loud or a nip that's a bit too painful. He's going to train the animal to misbehave around you.

Are you someone who is susceptible to peer pressure? He is going to train your pet to misbehave around your loved ones. Manipulate your friends and family into thinking that you're an abusive or neglectful pet owner. He doesn't have to say a word to you, everyone is doing the pressuring for him.

Maybe you would fold under his dour glare and stern words, he can be quite scary at times. That generally reduces anyone into a shivering, crying mess that will not bring up the things that displeases him. This is usually the second-last resort to anything.

Perhaps you're a fierce animal lover and have a strong portfolio of being a cat or dog owner. You wouldn't give your beloved four legged friends up for the world, you will fight for them till your very last breath. Someone with unbreakable maternal/paternal instincts towards your precious fur babies. Giving them up is not in the equation.

Well, he is not above traumatizing you for life.

When push comes to shove, you might find your trusted non-human companions betraying you by lacerating your extremities to the point of no repair. Puncturing your throat with its sharp canines and claws, leaving you to breathe on a ventilator while Yves takes care of you in the hospital.

Or he could direct the attack to someone else, make you liable for lasting damages and having to put your seemingly rabid pets down. You would also have to live with the guilt of knowing you're mainly responsible for disfiguring that poor child's face, changing his life for the worse, just because you "didn't" train them well.

He warned you not to test him. Yves has been lenient and his patience has reached its limits. He may love you and want the best for you, but he is also very, very selfish.

[jungkxook]

—pour up. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader x taehyung

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / fuckboy!taehyung + smut  

⟶ words: 14,048 (idk how it’s literally just smut)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: sleeping with both notorious frat boys kim taehyung and jeon jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.

⟶ warnings: mentions of drug/alcohol use, essentially pwp lol, threesome, double penetration, voyeurism, messy rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dry humping, manhandling, doggy style, riding (sort of?), fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), face riding, face fucking, deepthroating, breast play, slight begging (mostly oc making jungkook beg hehe), brief name calling, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog! also shout out to miss jlin @bratkook​ for being the sweetest and for liking this trashy fic of mine, and a happy early birthday present to @onherwings​ miss juno, the resident taekook lover!! 💛

also the accompanying song to this fic is pour up by dean!

There were times when you were sober where you were persistent about never being in a five foot radius of a frat boy, much less strip yourself of your dignity long enough to sleep with one.

Your appalling disgust and immense irritation of the male species that were frat boys kept you well in tune to your rule ━ until you’re far past the point of drunk and faded. Only then, when your bloodstream is laced with alcohol and your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud of smoke, you shrink into a shameless hypocrite and favour the appeal of a simple hook up. But you have needs too; it isn’t entirely your fault. Kim Taehyung offers you exactly that, with the promise to then act as if nothing happens the very next day so that the two of you can revert to despising one another out in public.

You act as if no one knows about your flings with ultimate frat boy Taehyung almost every weekend, as if they’re just as oblivious as you, but damn near the whole school knows and most certainly the rest of the boys in Beta Tau Sigma, or as Taehyung puts it, his brothers. It’s a useless cycle of bicker, avoid, drink, sex, and repeat, ever since you joined the school as a freshman and the sophomore boy took an interest in you. He’s charming in all the right ways and good looking but his smooth appeal was almost too good to be true and, past his “kind” smiles, you could make him out to be arrogant, vain, and cocky. Maybe you would have given him an actual chance had it not been for his snarkiness but all your brain could truly handle was his dick for a few hours a week.

Unsurprisingly, you always end up crashing at Beta Tau Sigma after one of their raging parties that results in your hook ups with Taehyung; surprisingly, Taehyung is miraculously into pillow talk post-sex and so he doesn’t entirely mind if you stay the night. But, by morning, when the alcohol has all but turned into a terrible hangover, he can hardly care less if you stay or not.

Usually, you wake up on your own, courtesy of past sober you setting an alarm on your phone to make sure you wake up earlier than all the other walkers of shame and anyone else in Beta Tau Sigma. Ideally, it was to help guarantee that no one would ever see you or judge you for stooping low enough to sleep with a fuckboy but you don’t know how well that’s working out for you anymore, if you’re being honest.

That’s why, early one fateful Sunday morning after a night of fun with Taehyung, you awaken with a start to the shrill Marimba tone that rips through the silence of the room and causes you to literally jump out of bed and crash onto the floor. You groan at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine and accompanies your groggy mind as your eyes flicker open only to be greeted with a blinding light that is the sun as it filters through the shut curtains. Littered on the ground are clothes, your clothes, beer bottles, red solo cups, discarded bed sheets, a singular condom wrapper (you thank your past selves for at least being sober enough to remember to use one), and your cell phone.

“Turn that shit off, for fuck sakes,” he grovels.

His hangover, and the early morning, makes his already deep voice even rougher, huskier, and you blame your disoriented mind for thinking he sounds even remotely sexy. He doesn’t bother to lift his head from his pillow or to find where you are in the room, the messy longer-than-usual curls of his hair flopping into his lashes as he flips onto his back. Other bodily remnants remain from the night before, from the mellowing ache between your legs left in the wake of his dick sufficiently railing you to the bite marks on his neck that you had so graciously bestowed him.

Now, you roll your eyes at him instead but dive for your phone nearby and tap the snooze button before it wakes the entire house and rouses the army of fuckboys from the dead.

“Good morning to you too,” You remark. “Is that better, princess?”

“Much.”

You push yourself to your feet and stretch, the stiff joints in your body popping and cracking, before searching for your clothes. You’re certain Taehyung has fallen back asleep as you dig around through the clutter to find your belongings but what else is new? It’s a routine the two of you have come to know well, and one that neither of you mind. You spot some sort of lacy material hidden underneath a few of Taehyung’s dirty laundry laying on the floor and reach for it thinking it’s yours. You’re only mildly disturbed to find that it isn’t yours at all ━ though you’re more concerned about the hygienic purposes of touching some other girl’s thong than you are about the blatant fact Taehyung sleeps with more girls than just you (a fact you swear you could care less for).

“Jesus Christ, your room is a disaster,” You scoff now.

“You could clean it,” Taehyung suggests sluggishly. Now, he’s awake, pretty and hooded eyes fluttering open to find you nearby. He props his hand behind his head to lift his gaze a little higher.

You snort, tossing the underwear away. “You never cease to━”

“Amaze you?”

“Repel me more than when I see the collection of thongs you have hidden in your room,” You correct. Fortunately, you spot your own underwear nearby and scoop it up, quickly slipping into them.

“Aw, baby, is that a bit of jealousy I hear?” Taehyung asks. He runs a hand through his dishevelled dark locks and shoots you a drowsy smirk. “You know you’re my one and only. I can always count on you when I want good head.”

“Please, flatter me some more, Tae,” You quip dryly.

As you hastily slide into your stiff shirt and jeans next and turn to face him, combing your fingers through your hair, Taehyung seems to take your words to heart and tries again. “You look like shit.”

You feign a voluntarily loud and overly dramatic moan. “Ugh, you really do know how to treat a girl━” Your cut off by a shameless snort from Taehyung before you continue on, “You know, you don’t exactly look the hottest right now either.”

“I beg to differ,” he replies nonchalantly. Technically, he isn’t lying, but you refuse to feed his ego any more.

“As if.”

“Funny,” he hums. “Could’ve sworn last night you were calling me hot when you were begging for my dick.”

You don’t bother to reply. Instead, you shake your head as you rub your tired face, uttering, “I need a coffee.”

“You could stay,” he offers. “I can make you one.”

“You don’t even know how to boil water,” You retort. “But thanks for the gesture. Try not to throw up on yourself today, okay?”

Taehyung mumbles something in response but then he’s already flipping over onto his side to fall back asleep again. You grab your bag from the floor and slip into your shoes before tiptoeing out of the room.

The Beta house is just as much a disaster as Taehyung’s room is and you find yourself stepping over more bottles, cups, empty pizza boxes, and hungover passed out people with phallic images doodled on their faces. The sun filters into the ever grand mansion and only illuminates the chaos the frat boys put it through. Everyone is thankfully still asleep as you head downstairs but, as you sneak past the kitchen, you notice two figures rummaging about, boisterous unabashed laughter filling the house that somehow hasn’t woken the others yet.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you with Park Jimin, both fellow Beta brothers, though Jungkook is in the same year as you. They, like most other Beta boys (and especially Taehyung), are well known on campus but Jungkook is perhaps even worse than Taehyung. Now, he’s adorned in only low hanging gray sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and the happy trail that threatens for your eyes to follow it. He holds a bowl of cereal close to him with the same arm decorated on every inch with tattoos, a snapback pushing his messy hair up and away from his forehead. The best part (and you mean that not at all) ━ or the worst ━ is the fact that he stands on a hoverboard, as if walking is too much for him to handle at nine in the morning. Jimin isn’t far off wearing the same attire, only his look is paired with the fuckboy-essential-starter-pack of socks and Adidas slides, and he’s at least actually using his legs to walk.

“Morning,” Jungkook smirks. “Time for the walk of shame?”

You have to retain a sigh. “I’m surprised you’re up, Jeon. I was sure you were gone past the point of saving last night.”

“A couple of shots do nothing for me,” Jungkook replies, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I was pretty much sober.”

At this, you sit back on your heels and look him once over skeptically. “You kept trying to hook up with me, called your dick Jungcock, threw up in one of the vases, and then passed out in the bathtub. I wouldn’t have exactly called you sober.”

The smirk remains on Jungkook’s face. If anything, he seems more so amused and it pisses you off. Jimin bursts into a fit of laughter and shakes his head.

“Always a pleasure seeing you, Y/N,” he greets. “Hey, are you coming to the party going down at Lambdas house after exams? It’s pretty exclusive but you and your friends are all invited by courtesy of us.”

“Ugh, I can’t even think about going to another party right now. How do you Beta whores do it?” You grovel. “Besides, why would we come if we know you’re going to be there?”

“‘Cause Tae’s going and you’re probably gonna wanna suck his dick,” Jungkook suggests snidely.

“I was gonna say the free booze,” Jimin offers instead. “Man, you know the Lambdas. They’re all rich pretentious sons of country club owners. They hardly throw parties but, when they do, you know it’s going to be wild. I wouldn’t miss it if I were you.”

“Well,” You say, “thanks for the invitation but we’ll see. Maybe if we have a pre-game where I can get drunk enough to handle your faces and the Lambda boys together.”

“I’ve always said you’re more fun when you’re drunk,” Jungkook hums pensively. Your eyes narrow into a glare and you’re fortunate Jimin is there to block your path from tackling Jungkook.

“Okay, whatever,” You grumble. “I’m out of here. I think if I stay here any longer, I’ll lose all my brain cells.”

Jimin chuckles but hardly seems bothered by your comment. He waves you off as he slips out of the kitchen to retreat into another room, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

“Can I get you anything before you go?” he asks. There’s a cheeky tone laced in his words that makes you blatantly aware he’s trying to suggest something more, like his dick.

“Absolutely not,” You wave him off. “See you around, Jungidiot.”

He grins and shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “Hey, maybe next Saturday you can think about blowing me instead of Tae, yeah?”

He’s met with you jamming your middle finger in his face and it only seems to entertain him further. As you march out of their home, slamming the door behind you, you have one discernable thought amongst your hangover and that is that you’ll definitely need to have that pre-game before you have the audacity to even see Jungkook, or any of the Beta boys for that matter, at the Lambdas.

That Saturday, you find yourself at the Lambdas house party.

So maybe you had sort of been lying when you said you weren’t so sure of going to it, but the thought was tempting enough and you aren’t one to pass up on a good party, especially when it’s after weeks of headaches and stressing over studying and exams.

Mid-terms come and go and when you finally finish writing your last paper, all you want to do is let loose and party and get dicked down by Taehyung. The Lambdas, despite their pretentious behaviour, looks to be very promising ━ but only after you down a few shots beforehand and have a beer while you’re getting ready. You’re not exactly as drunk or as tipsy as you would have prefered but it still gives you a nice enough buzz that makes you warm and lets the adrenaline pump in your veins and excites you even more for the party. The house you rent is off campus but it’s close to Beta’s and Taehyung offers to give you guys a lift to the Lambdas who are a fifteen minute walk away (but you know Taehyung will do anything to not walk anywhere his penny board can’t take him ━ and it’s not even Taehyung who is driving but his friend, Jin).

You can hear the party at Lambdas before you’re even there. The thump of bass coming from the house isn’t hard to miss, especially not with the way it seems to rattle the ground the closer you get. The house is crammed full to capacity and people have already begun to spill onto the lawn by the time you have arrived. A potent waft of alcohol and weed fill your senses and it is all you could really make out in the rambunctious party. You can hardly hear yourself think, let alone what others are saying to you. Yet, you still found a way to have fun almost instantly, drifting away from the guys to party with your friends.

Most of the night is a blur and a haze of confusion but you can remember drinking and drinking some more until you’re sufficiently smashed. You can’t quite recall where you had lost your friends, though you suspect it was after the intense game of beer pong you were suckered into in which you were certain there were no winners or losers as it was just an excuse to drink even more. It’s nearing 1 a.m. when you finally bump into a familiar face, pulling you back from the unruly party and the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins.

You’ve just slipped outside for some fresh air, perched on the front porch, when you notice Jimin is passed out on the lawn below. The other stragglers gathered outside barely take note of him but maybe that’s because he had chosen to faceplant in the shadows under the porch, tucked safely away from the rest of the party. Just before you can even think to walk over to him and make sure he’s still alive, the front door of the house swings wide open and a frenzied Taehyung bursts outside, shortly followed by an equally dumbfounded Jungkook.

“Where the fuck is he?” Taehyung hisses.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook sighs, disgruntled, “but leave it to him to run off and disappear.”

“Looking for someone?”

The two boys startle at your voice. They whirl around to find you taking a sip of the drink in your hand, as if only just noticing your presence. You hadn’t seen them since you parted ways a handful of hours ago in the party, though you’re fairly certain they’re just as smashed as you.

“Ah, babe!” Taehyung beams wolfishly. “What a pleasure seeing you out here. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen where Jimin went, would you?”

You nod in the direction of the sleeping boy down below. “He’s there. He’s passed out cold, though. What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook says. He grimaces as he hastily follows Taehyung down onto the lawn to stand near Jimin, and you in tow. “Jimin just likes to get out of hand. What should we do, Tae? We can’t just leave him here and Luna’s going to be pissed if she sees him like this.”

Taehyung stares down at Jimin miserably, thinking momentarily. “Well, Luna’s looking for him so we might as well drop him off at her dorm. He can deal with her when he’s sober.”

There’s a brief moment where you spot Jungkook seriously considering this though, as if leaving Jimin on the lawn of a frat house is a safer option than returning him to his girlfriend. Ultimately, he caves and you watch as Taehyung nudges Jimin awake (and by nudge, you mean he slaps the boy across the face) before pulling a very disoriented Jimin to his feet and slinging one of his arms over Taehyung’s neck.

“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Taehyung huffs. “Give me a hand, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods, stepping forward to take Jimin’s other arm and hook it around his own neck. The two boys seem to be struggling carrying most of Jimin’s body weight, though they’re carrying mostly dead weight as Jimin continues to drift in and out of consciousness.

Before they can leave you offer to help though you don’t know what you can really do so you suspect your inebriated mind just wanted to go with them for the hell of it. Luna’s place isn’t far. It’s a ten minute walk from Lambda’s, but in that ten minutes, none of you talk about anything of real importance except for chuckle and laugh about things that happened at the party.

Eventually you make it to Luna’s, who answers the door angrily after you knock on it as if you’ve disrupted her slumber and frowns when she sees Jimin’s current state. At least she has the decency to thank the three of you. When she shuts the door behind her, the three of you turn to look at one another, almost clueless.

“So, what now?” Taehyung asks. “Head back to the party?”

The thought of making the ten minute walk back to the party in your drunken mind seems like an eternity. That, mixed with the way your feet scream in agony from the heels you’re wearing, you begin to pout and shake your head.

“I can’t walk anymore,” You whine, words drunkenly slurring together. “I’d be fine just sitting here.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches as he looks at you once over. “How drunk are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, how about we just go back to our place?” Taehyung asks. His arm slides around your waist then, tugging you close to his side. If one thing is for certain, the boy tends to get more handsy the more drunk he is, and you never seem to mind. “I’ve got a fresh bowl we can hit and we can drink there and just chill?”

You and Jungkook consider Taehyung’s offer fleetingly and, to you, it seems much more appealing.

“Sign me up,” You say. “The Lambdas were a bit too over the top for my liking. There’s only so much I can handle.”

Jungkook shrugs and nods in agreement. “Then I guess I’m going with you guys.”

The five minute walk to Beta is short and soon you’re inside the eerily empty house and climbing the steps to Taehyung’s room but not before the three of you raid their cabinets for any type of liquor. Eventually, you’re all lounging in Taehyung’s room, some type of music playing in the background as the three of you pass around a bottle of whisky and the bong Taehyung had promised he had, giggling at each other.

By 2 a.m., you are smashed and faded but blissfully so.

Taehyung and Jungkook are not too far off. It’s Taehyung who comes up with the idea to play strip poker, though with a twist. His version of the game includes: taking a shot anytime one of you loses a round along with either stripping an article of clothing or being allowed to pass it and get dared to do something else, though each person only has three passes.

Jungkook loses the first round, shedding only his jacket. Taehyung and you lose the second round; you decide to strip out of your own cardigan while Taehyung flicks off his hat. Jungkook and Taehyung lose the third round and both kick off their shoes. The game progresses slowly, with the three of you coming up with “clever” loopholes out of the rules, like stripping one sock one round and then another sock the next and all of you are too drunk to really protest. Eventually, the game winds up with Taehyung and Jungkook both in their pants and you still wearing both your shirt and jeans. Both the boys have used one of their passes and are still losing which, you will admit, boosts your confidence ever so slightly especially when you have such a nice view in front of you.

Both boys are toned, with certified gym rat Jungkook’s abs a bit more chiseled, and you know that sober you would cringe at how hard you seem to be drooling over them. Jungkook must notice because he shoots you a wink that has you squirming in your seat.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

“N-No,” You say shortly. “Shut up and go. It’s your turn.”

You end up losing that round, unfortunately, but you have no qualms with stripping out of your jeans and kicking them to the side. The next round, you lose again, except you decide to use one of your passes which has both boys groaning in defeat.

“Remember,” You coo, “play nice boys.”

The two exchange a look and you wait patiently, taking your shot of whisky in the meantime as Taehyung chides you on encouragingly with a cheeky, “Pour up, baby girl.”

You down the shot in one gulp, wincing as it burns down your throat, then chase it quickly with the drink you had stolen from their kitchen. A drowsy smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips as he takes another rip from the bong, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he hums insouciantly, “I’ve got your dare.”

There’s a split moment where he makes eye contact with you and pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“Come here and kiss me.”

Had you been sober, you might have rolled your eyes at his simple yet assertive dare but, instead, you can’t help but snicker as you lean across to him from your seat on the floor and pull him down for a not so graceful kiss. His whisky coated tongue instantly collides with yours in an open mouthed frenzy that’s full of teeth clashing and wet sounds but it’s hot, too hot, even as Taehyung pulls you closer to him with his hand grasping at your chin. You instinctively react, teeth nipping at his lower lip as you suck hard, momentarily forgetting about Jungkook sitting in the room.

A moan emits from you as your fingers thread through his hair. Jungkook is left to watch but his eyes stay locked on your figure and the way you cave so easily to Taehyung, the way your mouth moves against his. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your position on your hands and knees, or the way you arch your back in an attempt to get closer to Taehyung, and he certainly can’t seem to look away from the tempting curve of your ass jutting in his direction. All Jungkook suddenly wants is for you to be kissing him the same way you’re kissing Taehyung.

You’re only interrupted when he finds the nerve to clear his throat after a few moments. “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just sit here. Do you guys want me to leave?”

He’s being sarcastic, of course, and when you and Taehyung part to look at the boy, he’s scowling. The two of you chuckle lightly but don’t respond, though you remember the game you’re still playing. Taehyung kisses you one last time before you settle back onto the floor, a sheepish giggle bubbling in your chest. Taehyung loses the next round and he decides to strip down into his underwear though he hasn’t lost yet (the goal is nudity and neither of your drunk selves have enough dignity left to give up before then).

The round after that, you lose again. You decide, once more, to use another one of your passes and the two boys pause, thinking of a dare for you as you take a shot (which, you have realized, only get harder to take as time passes).

“I have one,” Taehyung says at long last.

“Bro,” Jungkook groans, “if you just wanna fuck, let me know. I’ll leave. I don’t think I can sit here and watch you dare her to suck your face again.”

Taehyung laughs and shakes his head. “Easy there. I was just gonna suggest that you━” he points at you before nodding toward Jungkook, “give him a lap dance.”

“A what?” Jungkook’s jaw drops open, his eyes widening. “M-Me?”

You glance up at Taehyung, quirking an eyebrow. “Him?”

Taehyung erupts into another fit of laughter but he’s the only one who finds the situation hilarious because you and Jungkook continue to sit there, dumbfounded. When Taehyung calms himself down, he wipes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Are you seriously telling me you haven’t been noticing?” he asks.

“Noticing what?”

“The way Jungkook keeps eye-fucking you,” Taehyung says simply.

Jungkook gaps. “The fuck? I haven’t.”

“Jungkook, you’re not exactly sly,” Taehyung says. “He’s been doing it the whole night, babe. It’s not the first time he’s done it, too. I just figured we could do him a little favour.”

Your turn to look up at Jungkook and purse your lips. He’s seated in Taehyung’s desk chair and has a frown painted on his face. It’s not like it comes as a surprise to you because he’s constantly trying to flirt with you even when you’re sober but his sudden flustered appearance puzzles you slightly. You’ll admit the idea is ludicrous, but Jungkook is undeniably hot, and grinding on his dick sounds more than wonderful to you in your current state. Either way, you stand to your feet.

“I’ll do it,” You say. “Why not?”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook yelps. “You will?”

“Yeah,” You flash him a pearly smirk. “What? Is confident Jungkookie finally shy?”

At the mention of the taunting nickname, he straightens up in his seat and scowls. “No. I’m just surprised you gave in so easily. You must really like me, huh?”

“Keep dreaming, Jeon,” You retort.

The music is still playing in the background as you slink towards Jungkook’s seated figure. Meanwhile, Taehyung is watching with an amused look on his face and sits back, clearly enjoying the view as he tells you that you have three minutes. As you approach Jungkook, he leans back in his seat and watches you with dark eyes. Jungkook’s eyes sweep over your figure, from the way you muse your hands through your messy hair, your tight tank top with one strap falling down your shoulder, your lacy and scantily clad underwear, and your smooth legs. He gulps at the sight and shifts in his seat.

As soon as you’re standing in front of him, you whirl around so that your back is to him and jutt your butt out just enough to catch his attention as you sway your hips to the music. Your hands ghost up your sides just faintly enough so that chills run down your spine and you lock eyes with Taehyung for a split second to see him grinning. You sit back on Jungkook’s lap and his breath hitches in his throat suddenly. He hates to admit how easily you’re driving him crazy and as soon as you are but he takes the time to enjoy the dance anyway, eyes staying trained on your ass as you grind against him in agonizingly slow circles and right against his dick nestled against his thigh. He can’t help it when a moan emits from him.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, raking his hands through his hair. You snicker at his reaction, craning your neck to look behind at him.

“Enjoying yourself, Kookie?”

“N-No,” he rasps. This is a lie, of course. “Turn around.”

His command only humours you but you don’t disobey. You get up for a second to spin around and face him before climbing back onto his lap, swinging one leg over his. Before you drop your hips completely on him, you’re rocking them back and forth against the thin air, your hands snaking around his neck. His hands suddenly find purchase on your waist and he yanks you down onto him with a sudden neediness that surprises you, though you don’t complain. You continue to grind against his lap and you can’t help your greedy self when your hands reach out to run up and down his toned chest. He shivers at your slightest touch, his jaw clenched, but he keeps his gaze focused on your eyes, as if challenging you for more. Behind you, Taehyung is taking another hit from the bong and laughs lightly at Jungkook’s reactions.

“Let him touch you,” Taehyung says.

You expect Jungkook to listen to Taehyung and reach out to grab onto you but he hesitates, his hands remaining at your hips. So, instead, you take his hands in yours and begin pulling them up, sliding them along your midriff and up to your chest. You don’t even flinch as you let him cup your boobs over your clothes and you watch him slyly as he gulps.

“Is this the first time you’ve actually touched a girl, Jungkook?” You quip. “You’re gawking at my boobs like it is. Not gonna wet yourself, hm?”

“Fuck off,” he growls, though there’s no malice in his voice.

Instead, he focuses his attention on your breasts and the weight of them in his palm. They’re soft and supple and he squeezes them firmly, jiggles the flesh as he fondles at you blatantly. He hates to admit it but he feels as if he’s going to combust at any second, repressing the sudden urge to tear off your shirt and burrow his head in your chest, your boobs in his mouth. He doesn’t know whether the soft moan that slips from your parted pink lips is intentional to mess with him or because you had been getting carried away yourself. Either way, Jungkook’s certain it’s the hottest thing he’s heard in a while, the hottest thing he’s seen in a while, and he hates how his sudden erection forms, how embarrassing it must be. When you feel his hardened length start to poke at your thigh, you look down at him past your lashes and smirk.

“Are you hard already, Kookie?” You giggle.

Taehyung roars with laughter abruptly and the outburst only makes Jungkook redden.

“I━I━” he stammers helplessly.

You shake your head at him and then purposely press your hips a little more firmly against his, gripping at his shoulders now. You’re challenging him now too, and he doesn’t know what you have in mind but you’re wickedly set on making him cum in his pants before Taehyung stops you.

“Time’s up,” he says.

Jungkook almost groans out loud in frustration when you pull away and step off of his lap. He’s embarrassingly hard now but his drunk self doesn’t try very hard to hide it. Taehyung’s stare is settled on Jungkook as you walk back to your seat but, before you can even sit down, Taehyung is beckoning you over.

“Come here, babe,” he hums. You look at him curiously but move in his direction. “What do you say we help Jungkook with his problem, huh?”

“Help? How?” You question.

“Come sit,” Taehyung gestures to his thigh.

Jungkook watches with silent seething jealousy as you take a seat on Taehyung’s thigh and then he’s kissing you, pressing his lips against your neck. You react almost instantly, your head craning to allow him more access and your eyes clamp shut, your mouth hanging open in delight.

“Tae━” You mewl, tugging at his hair, as if to prompt him wordlessly about Jungkook’s presence. But when does it become too much? Every action seems to keep building and building, that you know where the night surely must be heading; that you crave it.

Taehyung’s tongue swirls at your neck, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin, before he peeks one eye open to look at Jungkook.

“Look at him,” Taehyung hums against you. “Look at how jealous he is right now. Look at how bad he wants to be me right now.”

You take a moment to register his words, your head spinning. You struggle to find Jungkook as Taehyung continues to ravish your neck. Jungkook’s stare is hard, his jaw clenched; his hands are balled into tight fists that let you see the bulging veins in his arms. Is he jealous? Angry?

Taehyung suddenly bites down onto your neck and you gasp in surprise, leaning against his chest. His nimble fingers find the hem of your shirt which he lifts and discards on the floor with ease. Next to come off is your bra. You don’t realize your torso is bare until a slight breeze hits your breasts and perks your nipples and Taehyung reaches up to cup the soft tissue in his large hands and Jungkook can’t look away because, fuck, touching you is all he really wants to do.

“Do you see him staring now?” Taehyung asks. “Do you see how desperate he is for you? Look at how bad he wants to touch you right now, baby girl. Will you let him?”

You’re still staring at Jungkook as Taehyung speaks and note how fast Jungkook’s demeanour has changed. He looks helpless, his erection more prominent in his straining jeans which he shamelessly palms at to feel some sort of relief.

“Better yet,” Taehyung hums, averting your attention back to him. He’s sliding one of his hands down your front and in between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His digits come in contact with your clothed pussy and the sudden touch, light and feathery, makes you jump and gasp. You hadn’t been aware of how wet you had been until he touched you just then and the coil in your stomach only tightens with each passing second. “Will you let him play with you?”

It takes you a second to respond, though that isn’t because you’re struggling to decide. The thought entices you far more than you ever believed it could. Taehyung is suddenly rubbing his fingers against your clothed clit in so very slow circles that it suddenly has you tripping over your own thoughts. You’re biting hard onto your lower lip as you force yourself to nod hastily.

“Do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.

“Fuck, yes,” You whine. “Mmm, Tae━”

Taehyung shifts you in his lap so that your back is pressed against his chest, leaning all your weight against him. It’s hard to focus as one of his hands fondles one of your breasts while his other presses figure eights onto your clit. You’re on full display for Jungkook now, though his eyes fall to the wet spot that forms on your pretty little underwear as your arousal leaks from you.

“How badly do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.

“So badly,” You whimper.

This catches Jungkook’s attention and he leans forward in his seat. Taehyung smirks against you and then he’s moving, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs to hook around the waistband of your underwear. He gives it a quick tug and you fumble to lift your hips so he can pull the useless fabric down your legs. Once it pools at your feet, you kick it off to the side and then Taehyung’s hand returns between your thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he says.

You do as you’re told, pushing your thighs apart but then instinctively squeezing them shut when Taehyung continues to press his fingers against your clit. The sudden stimulation is too much for you and your face begins to heat up so Taehyung uses the chance to push your legs apart for you. He hitches one of your thighs over his own as if to anchor you in place and it works.

“Can you stay like that for me, baby?” Taehyung drawls. “Look at Jungkook for me.”

You nod, your throat dry as you lift your gaze to lock eyes once more with Jungkook. You find the boy gawking at your sex and you moan suddenly. His head snaps up to stare at you with a sudden blazing determination and lust in his eyes before they fall once more to your pussy, admiring the way it pulsates each time Taehyung swipes at your clit or tweaks at your nipples. But the best part? The best part is just how wet you are, your clear juices coating Taehyung’s fingers, spilling onto yours and Taehyung’s thighs with the passing seconds, and suddenly Jungkook is hungry for you. But what he doesn’t know is how you suddenly imagine Jungkook in Taehyung’s place, sat beneath you poised daintily on his lap, his fingers pressing against you.

You twist on top of Taehyung, your own hand reaching up to grasp at your other breast, pinching at the nipple tightly. A delighted moan fumbles from your lips. “Jungkook━ Fuck━”

“It’s nice, yeah?” Taehyung asks aloud to the other boy. “She’s pretty, hm?”

Jungkook nods eagerly and then groans. “She’s dripping. Fuck, it’s so hot.”

Your face burns at his words but you don’t have enough wits to think of a snarky retort like usual.

Taehyung chuckles. “Why don’t you come here then and touch her? Taste her? Is that okay, baby?”

When you realize Taehyung is asking you, you nod eagerly. “Shit, please━ Jungkook, wanna feel you━”

At your request, Jungkook practically tumbles out of his seat. As soon as he’s standing on his feet, the realization seems to hit him and he takes his time, walking to you slowly. His gaze sweeps over your exposed body and he licks his lips, his eyes suddenly darkening. Taehyung doesn’t stop touching you or marking your neck his even as Jungkook walks closer and it hits you in that moment what exactly you’re doing and who you’re with ━ and you fucking love it. Jungkook kneels down in front of you and Taehyung nods in encouragement.

“She’s impatient and feisty,” Taehyung informs. “But that makes her fun to tease.”

“I know how to pleasure a girl,” Jungkook quips.

“But you don’t know how to pleasure Y/N,” Taehyung replies. “You’re too cocky, Jungkookie, and she doesn’t like that. You need to take your time with her and you don’t do that often with girls, do you?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond but, judging by his face, you assume Taehyung is right.

“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks. He’s staring at your face now and only your face. His intense stare makes you squirm on Taehyung’s lap, and makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth.

“Touch me,” You rasp. “Touch me, please, Jungkook.”

God, how he loves hearing you moan his name. But the anticipation is killing you. You’ve felt Taehyung’s fingers plenty of time; you’ve never felt Jungkook’s, and the abrupt need seems to grow more intense with each passing second.

“You heard her, Jungkookie,” Taehyung says. He draws his hand away from your heat and kisses your neck softly. “Go on. Touch her. Be gentle, go slow.”

Jungkook is shaking with excitement ━ or maybe it’s just the weed and alcohol in his bloodstream ━ but he eyes you carefully, gnawing down on his lower lip. He reaches out at a tedious pace and hesitates, his fingers hovering over your core. Taehyung is watching with eager eyes whilst planting open mouthed kisses along your shoulders, neck, and jawline. Jungkook finally presses his fingers against your pussy and your reaction is immediate. You toss your head back against Taehyung’s shoulder and jutt your hips forward.

“Nnngh, fuck, Kook━” You whimper. “M-More━ Wanna feel more━”

Jungkook takes that as a good sign and follows after Taehyung, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. He feels just how wet you are, his fingers coating with your cum as they move with ease past your folds, and it’s enough to let the wave of glee wash over him again.

“See? Look how much she loves it already,” Taehyung says. “Keep going.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. As he rubs his fingers over your clit, his other hand comes up in a greedy fashion. He can’t stop himself from slipping a finger past your folds and it takes all you can not to moan out loud but you give up on the prospect of remaining quiet when it feels so good to have both boys on you.

“Let him know how you feel, baby,” Taehyung purs. “How he’s making you feel.”

You struggle to find your voice momentarily, too caught up with the lust and desire but then a cry of delight falls from your lips. “Fuck, ah, Jungkook! That feels s-so good━”

Jungkook’s head snaps up to look at you in pure disbelief.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he huffs. “I never thought you’d moan my name and now you’re so wet and tight and for me━”

“And me,” Taehyung admonishes offhandedly.

Jungkook doesn’t reply but that’s mostly because he’s suddenly fixated on curling his finger inside of you and watching your every reaction. Your hips jut forward and you cry out, panting at the blissful feeling but it isn’t enough. You need more, and you need more now. As if Taehyung can read your mind, he chimes in again, disrupting yours and Jungkook’s reverie.

“Why don’t you have a taste of her?” he asks. “You won’t regret it.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up and he watches as you nod eagerly, desperate pleas coming from your mouth. Jungkook lowers himself down between your thighs and you wait with bated breath before he’s licking a clean stripe against your folds with his flattened tongue. The sudden slippery warmth has your body writhing in pleasure.

“Jungkook━” You cry out. “Oh my god━”

Jungkook grins. Then he’s licking at you again, tasting your sweet succulence, and groans into your hot core.

“Shit,” Jungkook huffs. “You taste amazing.”

He nibbles down slightly on your clit without warning and tugs. You instantly jerk into his mouth, a strangled moan ripping from your throat that sounds something like a scold of his name and a desperate plea for more. “Jungkook!”

Taehyung snickers against your neck and you can feel Jungkook’s lips curl into a taunting smirk between your thighs. Jungkook’s finger still curls deep within you as his tongue returns to lapping at your clit and you can feel his nose brushing against you the deeper he burrows into you. Meanwhile, Taehyung is continuing to ravish your neck, his hands tweaking at your nipples. The onslaught of senses is so much for you that you nearly scream when Jungkook’s tongue dips into your heat so suddenly to accompany his finger. He laps at you hungrily and you gasp, your breath stuttering as your hands come down to tug hard in his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. It feels fantastic, too incredible for you to put into words, as you feel the wetness of his tongue lap at your walls and suddenly you’re aware of just how susceptible you are to both of the boys near you.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Jungkook,” You moan.

“Now who’s the needy one?” Jungkook coos against your cunt. “Gonna cum on my tongue?”

“P-Please━ Want it so badly, Kook━”

He smacks his lips against you, taking as much as he can of you into his mouth and sucking hard until all you hear are the lewd wet sounds of his tongue and finger working miracles against you. You’re clutching his hair so tight, pushing him closer into your heat but he doesn’t relent. One of his hands comes up to hold onto your waist, to push you firmly back onto Taehyung’s lap and closer into Jungkook’s mouth. You can feel Taehyung’s budding erection poking against your thigh and it’s enough to make you flustered once more.

In an attempt to help Taehyung, you find yourself grinding not only into Jungkook’s mouth but onto Taehyung’s lap, earning a growl into your neck. Taehyung’s free hand comes up to your chin which he grabs roughly. He forces you to look at him and then he’s smashing his lips onto yours in a heated fashion for an entirely ungraceful kiss. It’s needy and hot, completely open mouthed as your tongues mingle in the air and as Taehyung sucks on your lower lip. Yet you tear your gaze from Taehyung to look down at Jungkook as he buries himself further into your pussy, his nose nuzzling against your clit. You’re dripping by now and you can see your own juices smear onto his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you could ever imagine seeing. He doesn’t seem to care as it spills down his neck and suddenly the mere sight has you squirming again. You part from Taehyung’s mouth with a wet pop that rings in your ears and moan.

“Fuck━ nghn, I━I━ think I’m close,” You whimper.

“Fuuck, yes,” Jungkook growls against you.

“Let it go, baby,” Taehyung hums, nibbling at your ear. “Cum for him, for us.”

Jungkook’s pace quickens, pumping his finger faster in you and sucking at your clit until you have no more strength to hold off. Your hands fumble in his hair, trying desperately to pull him closer, and you hate how badly you want your sweet release already. It doesn’t help when Taehyung twists your body ever so slightly so that he can lean down to your breasts and catch one of your nipples between his teeth. His tongue swishes back and forth against the perked bud and you whimper again, the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening.

You’re so close now and Jungkook can hear it, can feel it, can taste it. You don’t have much longer after that before your orgasm is hitting you hard.

“I’m gonna━” You reach out to grasp at Jungkook’s hair, tugging at the roots. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

You cry out suddenly, the coil in your stomach springing apart. Jungkook moans into your pussy as you cum, pulsating around his tongue and finger and dripping into his mouth. You’re reduced to nothing but a whimpering, writhing mess against Taehyung as you buck back and forth into Jungkook’s mouth to ride out your high. Taehyung pulls apart from you to rub circles into your hips and the seemingly gentle move somehow soothes the intense wave of pleasure into something much sweeter. Fire burns at your core and flicks outward until your whole body is warm and numb and then you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, panting hard. Jungkook drinks up every last bit of you and you begin to cringe at the oversensitivity before you gain some of your wits again. You push his head away hastily and this time he relents.

“Did all your little happy wet dreams finally come true, Jeon?” You snicker languidly.

The boy sits back on his knees and looks up at you, locking gazes with yours. You can finally see his face, his tousled black hair, his swollen red lips, and chin, all of which are covered in your perfect sheen. He licks at his lips and wipes at his chin and neck where his tongue can’t reach and he does all of this without breaking eye contact with you. A small smirk forms on his face and suddenly you’re filled with an intense need for payback.

“Yeah, you act confident now but you seemed to enjoy it when you were riding my face,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, about to reply before he adds, “So, you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible,” You huff, pushing yourself off of Taehyung’s lap.

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Taehyung mewls behind you. “We still need you.”

“Oh, I know,” You quip. You reach down to grab onto Jungkook’s chin, forcing him to look up at you. “But it’s my turn, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. Jungkook, however, hardly looks bothered, though he seems a little taken aback by your sudden assertiveness when you begin pulling him up to his feet before pushing him back onto the bed. Taehyung scoots over so that the three of you can fit comfortably on his bed and then you’re moving, crawling over to Jungkook on your hands and knees.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Jungkook asks. “Because this is sexier than it is scary.”

You’re hovering over his crotch when he speaks, your greedy hands reaching forward to brush against his hard dick straining in his jeans. He nearly jolts in his seat at the sudden touch and you and Taehyung giggle again.

“Mmm, baby, teach him a lesson,” Taehyung hums. “Suck him off nice and slow but don’t let him cum.”

“Not unless he begs for it,” You say wickedly.

Taehyung stifles a chuckle. “I told you she’s feisty, Jungkookie.”

The younger boy is eyeing you carefully as you busy yourself by undoing the belt buckle on his jeans. He acts unimpressed, unfazed, as you unbutton his jeans and began sliding them off his legs, but you can see the needy and impatient glint in his eyes. Your eyes fall immediately to the ever present straining bulge in his boxers and you gulp in response, licking your lips. You can’t help yourself when you reach out to brush your fingers faintly along his length. He jolts in his seat and grits his teeth, shooting you a hard glare.

“Are you seriously going to tease me?” Jungkook grumbles. “We can skip all of that, y’know━”

“It’s payback, Jeon,” You hum, running your fingers down his dick and then back up again. “Where’s the fun in it if I skip all of the teasing?”

“You know,” Taehyung murmurs from beside you. He’s reclining back, watching you with intense eyes and is completely shameless about his prominent erection contained by his boxers. “I’m surprised the idiot hasn’t referred to his dick yet as Jungcock.”

You giggle, an all too innocent and sweet sound for the way you’re palming at Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook, who is apparently having a rather difficult time keeping up with his surroundings while your fingers continue to work against him, scoffs. His eyebrows knit together as he throws a beady glare at the older boy.

“You’re ruining the mood,” he grunts.

Taehyung clicks his tongue against his teeth, a smirk tugging at his luscious lips. “Of course. I digress.”

You turn your attention back to Jungkook who’s staring down at your hand with parted lips and a crease in his brows. Without warning, you grasp him through his boxers and he groans suddenly, bucking forward. The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you peel back the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his dick which springs out from it’s confines. He’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it.

“You’re staring again,” Jungkook hums when he notices you pause, your eyes wide. “Sure you don’t like what you see?”

You shake yourself from your daze and frown. “Shut up.”

The boy starts to chuckle at your flustered expression but yelps when you clasp your fingers around the base of his cock. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and excites you even more. You start pumping him slowly, guiding your hands up and down his length in careful and measured motions, wiping your thumb across his tip each time you reach it. Jungkook shudders in your touch, his teeth coming down to gnaw hard on his lower lip. His eyes are glued to your hands working against him, his face scrunching up in pure euphoria.

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts, his head lolling back. “Stop teasing me and go faster.”

You don’t listen. If anything, you slow your pace and it has him so frustrated that he lets an involuntary whimper escape him. He bucks into your clenched hand, practically begging for more but remains quiet, safe for his heavy panting.

“You heard her, Kook,” Taehyung says. “Beg for her.”

“There’s no way I’m begging,” Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth. “Never. I never have and never will.”

“Bullshit,” You scoff. You fondle at his balls with your other hand and he moans again. Your hand comes to a complete halt all of a sudden, interrupting Jungkook as he is about to speak. Before he can protest, you lean down and lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around him once to taste his saltiness. His hips rut forward into you but you pull back almost immediately and find Jungkook gaping. You meet his desperate eyes for a steady gaze. “Beg. Just once, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook’s stare wavers as you run your fingers along his tip, squeezing slightly. He tries to compose himself, to remain calm, but when you are relentless, he caves very easily. He only gives in when you kiss the base of his cock. And those eyes ━ fuck, the way your eyes turn so wide and already look so fucked out. How could he resist you?

“Fuck, fuck, okay,” he gasps. “I need more, baby, please. Ah, please━ You feel so fucking good.”

His needy pleas satisfy you and your lips curl into a devious grin. You lower yourself on him suddenly, licking a clean stripe up his length and he moans loudly. You enclose your mouth around his tip and suck, earning a small growl from him as he pushes his hips forward for more. In the next second, you sink your mouth down his length, taking as much of him as you can.

“Fuck!” he moans abruptly. “Ahh, shit, that feels amazing, baby.”

You hollow out your cheeks as you pull your head up and then back down, starting at an even pace that has him moaning and writhing beneath you. He feels much bigger in your mouth but you don’t mind even when he bucks himself into you unexpectedly and hits the back of your throat. The action makes you gag around him and, in return, he curses at the way it feels.

“K-Keep doing that,” he mumbles. “Please, fuck, just like that.”

His fingers thread in your hair and he pulls you down greedily on him but you don’t refuse.

“Can you do it, baby girl?” Taehyung questions. His hand finds his way on your back where he rubs gentle circles into your skin. “Can you take all of him in your mouth?”

You nod carefully around Jungkook’s hardened length.

“Good girl,” Taehyung smirks. “Go slow.”

You follow his orders, sinking gradually onto Jungkook until you feel the tip of him hitting the back of your throat. You gag once more but, instead of pulling back, you shut your eyes and take a few deep breaths in through your nose. In, out, in, out, and then you swallow. Jungkook’s reaction is sudden and intense. He bucks into your mouth unwillingly and moans even louder, his fingers clutching at your roots.

“That’s it, baby,” Taehyung hums and his sudden presence is comforting.

“A-Again,” Jungkook stammers. “Again, please━ holy shit, you feel amazing.”

You swallow again and then a third and each time you can feel yourself sinking lower onto him. Tears prickle at your eyes as your nose is suddenly pressed against his lower abdomen but his reactions are well worth it and so you continue.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung says, planting a chaste kiss against your shoulder. “You deserve some more attention, hm?”

His fingers slowly rub circles down your back, his lips following your arch and has you shivering beneath him, before stopping at the dip just above your ass. He’s kneeling behind you now, his fingers massaging into your thighs. You sigh against Jungkook when you feel Taehyung’s fingers continue their trek to your ass, rubbing you carefully. You, in response, push your hips back, waiting for more.

“You’re still so wet, baby,” Taehyung says. “I bet you’d come with one touch of my finger.”

With Jungkook buried hilt deep inside your mouth, you’re hardly prepared for when Taehyung slips his fingers underneath to your folds. It’s embarrassing to admit how right he is. You react instantly, moaning around Jungkook and jutting your hips back for more. The simple vibration has Jungkook groaning, his hips bucking forward. You hadn’t even been aware of just how wet you are before Taehyung pointed it out but then you can feel it, pulsing out of you and dripping down the top of your inner thighs.

“But you need more, don’t you?” Taehyung asks. “How about my cock? Will you let me fuck you, baby girl?”

You nod eagerly, the simple question exciting you even more. Taehyung chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to the arch of your back.

“But you’ll have to be good and keep pleasuring Jungkook too, okay?” Taehyung says.

You hum in response and swallow around Jungkook as if to tell both boys that you have no plans on stopping. Jungkook twitches inside you and scrunches his eyes shut.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” he grumbles. “Hurry up. Any time you touch her, she swallows. It feels so good.”

Taehyung snickers but he takes his time. He runs his fingers up and down your folds until you’re moaning needily against Jungkook. You look over your shoulder to see Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around his own hardened and pulsating erection, pumping himself a few times as he stares at you carefully. He positions himself behind you and takes the chance to run his tip and length along your folds. You whimper suddenly, hoping your desperate noises will spur him on.

“You want more, baby?” Taehyung asks.

You hum again, your voice muffled and hoarse.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Only because you’ve been so good.”

You have no time to brace yourself from the sudden impact of feelings. He doesn’t do much except for push himself into you, past your folds. It’s only just the tip and yet your heart jolts in your chest, the coil in your stomach tightens. It feels so good to finally have something of larger girth in you that you gap, simultaneously sinking down further onto Jungkook. The two boys grunt above you, both of them panting hard.

“You feel so good, baby,” Taehyung mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the dip of your lower back to guide you. He slowly, so very slowly, pushes himself into you, inch by inch, so you can feel the way he stretches you open, feel the way he buries into you. Your leaking arousal only proves to be of an advantage, letting him easily push into you without any trouble. Your fingers grip the bed sheets beneath you in an ironclad grip and you squeak when he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. You nearly gag around Jungkook again, who’s still panting and writhing above you, but the way Taehyung’s tongue marks patterns into your shoulder comforts you. You whine against Jungkook, pushing your hips back for more and the simplicity of your action has Taehyung’s breath hitching in his throat.

“So warm,” he grunts and then sighs against your back. “You always feel so amazing.”

He still hasn’t moved and you’re beginning to grow impatient, distraught over the feeling of him rock hard inside you but unmoving. You debate pulling apart from Jungkook to yell at Taehyung but you assume he can understand your haste judging by the way your body writhes beneath him, your fingers clench into fists. He pulls out in one languid movement, his breath stuttering, until only his tip is left before he pushes himself back in, equally as slow. He sets at a steady, easy pace that, at the very least, lets you grasp onto some sensible thoughts and pushes you to keep pleasing Jungkook. Jungkook can’t take it anymore; he starts rutting his hips up into your mouth with gritted teeth. It’s a hot, erotic mess of mingled moans and groans but you never want it to stop ━ in fact, you want more.

“You like that, baby?” Taehyung grunts.

You nod hurriedly, humming in response.

“Ah, fuck━” Taehyung groans. “Want it harder?”

You nod once more, this time eagerly. When Taehyung pulls back one more time, he slams himself back into you without any warning and you jerk forward, sinking down onto Jungkook. The younger boy moans, his head lolling back as his fingers twisting in your hair. You don’t expect Taehyung to do the same thing again, pull out slowly and then push himself back in with more force, but he does, and he repeats the action again and again until he abandons it for a whole new pace. Soon, he’s thrusting into you hard and fast but always making sure his hips reconnect with yours before pulling out so you can feel him practically in your throat.

“Like being fucked like this?” Taehyung asks. “You like being used like a little slut?”

His thrusts are relentless suddenly, jerking your body and back and forth until he’s fucking you in a way that has you sucking off Jungkook just right so that you hardly have to put in any effort. Although his hard thrusts feel amazing, each time you’re pushed forward, you sink further down onto Jungkook unwillingly and that, paired with the way Jungkook frantically fucks himself into your mouth, you nearly gag each time as he hits the back of your throat, drool pooling at your lips and dribbling down your chin. Tears prick at your eyes from the feeling and it’s too pleasing to quit, to pull away from Jungkook just yet. Jungkook’s staring down at you when he notices your scrunched up face. You’re surprised when his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing reassuringly into your cheekbone.

“You’re doing so━ ah, fuck━ so well, baby,” he rasps.

You can taste the saltiness of precum on the tip of your tongue and you wonder how close he is. You have no qualms in finishing him off then and there but soon the pleasure you’re receiving from Taehyung becomes too much. Soon, he’s hitting you at an angle that shakes something in you. You pull apart from Jungkook with a loud pop, saliva and cum coating his length and your lips, and a gasp wretches from your throat.

“Fuck!” You cry hoarsely. “Ah, T-Taehyung!”

You’re too weak to push yourself up and end up burying your head in Jungkook’s lower abdomen, feeling the heat consume you. You’re near numb, senseless, as you let Taehyung ravish your body, fuck you hard into the mattress and Jungkook. It’s a frantic build up, an intense wave of emotions that you seem to pass through, and you can hardly bring yourself to react. All you can hear is the sound of moaning and skin against skin and the heat seems to make its way up to your head, making you warm and fuzzy. Jungkook gently pulls at your face, lifting you up and bringing you to him so that he can smash his lips onto yours and all you can taste is bitter liquor, you, and him, but that doesn’t stop him from sucking on your lower lip even when you pull apart to moan and gasp.

“T-Tae,” You sob. “Fuck, Tae, I━I’m c━close━”

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

You shake your head frantically at the sensitive sting between your legs still raw from your orgasm from Jungkook, shutting your eyes. Taehyung’s hands find their way onto your hips and he pulls you down his length until you’re balls deep and pauses. He lifts your hips and you can feel him twitch inside you that it even makes your own thighs tremble and shake. You’re sure you’ll collapse on him if he doesn’t hold onto you and he must realize this too because he grips your hips tight to continue thrusting into you. Soon you’re tumbling towards your high. Taehyung’s pumps are frantic, growing sloppy with each passing second, as he pushes you to yours and his high. The coil snaps in your stomach again and you’re in a moment of freefall where you’re stunned by the wave of pleasure. Then, Taehyung is bringing you back down to reality with his hard thrusts, the way he moans, and the lewd wet sounds of him pumping himself into you.

“Ah, T-Tae━” You whimper. “So good, fuck━”

His name falls from your lips in a repeated mantra. You crumble beneath him, collapsing entirely against Jungkook, who’s brushing your hair away from your face. You’re shaking with each touch, your walls pulsing around Taehyung and clenching hard. He moans and curses behind you and you know he must be close to his high because he, too, is fumbling for it. His thrusts are even more hasty and soon he’s reaching his climax. His moans increase in volume and his thrusts become sloppier until he finally pulls his cock from your walls and nearly collapses against your back.

With his hand clenched tightly around his shaft, he jerks himself off until he’s releasing onto your back in white hot spurts. He’s panting hard, sweat coating his forehead, but he takes the time to press chaste kisses along your back and shoulders as the two of you attempt to calm your shrill hearts. It’s silent in the room for a moment despite your panting breaths. Taehyung takes a moment to grab his discarded shirt and wipe at the mess he’s made before he collapses next to you at long last with a huff of air. You moan wearily, rolling off of Jungkook to lay on your back between the two.

“God, you’re amazing,” Taehyung sighs.

You giggle up at the boy and lean towards him to kiss. His fingers rake in your hair and a few silent seconds pass before you’re nearly back to an even breathing pace. That’s when you notice Jungkook, his hand gripped tightly around his still painfully hard dick.

“Jungkook,” You pur his name, catching his attention. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he quips.

“It’s your turn,” Taehyung points out. Jungkook glances at Taehyung and then down at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“W-Well, I just thought━” Jungkook stammers. “I just thought you’ve had enough. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“I call bullshit again,” You scoff.

“Baby girl,” Taehyung hums, “do you want Jungkookie to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly but Jungkook doesn’t seem too convinced, or maybe he’s hesitant. Taehyung’s eyeing him closely, curiously, before he gaps. He bursts out into a fit of chuckles, earning both yours and Jungkook’s attention.

“Shit, of course,” Taehyung grins. “He’s probably gonna let go the minute he’s in you. You’re close, hm?”

“Only because she’s already been down on me,” Jungkook grumbles.

“You know that’s not it,” Taehyung replies. “You’ve been wanting this forever.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly darken as he glares at the older boy. “Taehyung.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, turning to gawk at both.

“Jungkook has a little crush on you,” Taehyung smirks. “This is all he’s ever wanted. I bet he’ll bust a nut the second he fucks you and he’s embarrassed.”

You gasp as you turn to face Jungkook who looks entirely disgruntled but you’re more shocked about the fact that Jungkook likes you than anything else. Jungkook, notoriously arrogant fuckboy, who’s seemingly made it his mission to give you a headache every waking moment by trying to flirt with you. And maybe you’ve always sort of known it; maybe you’ve always sort of felt the same.

“That’s not true!” Jungkook protests. “I━I━ Well, Tae hardly finishes when he’s with another girl. He’s jacked off to the thought of you before, too━”

Taehyung starts. “Fuck off━”

You’re stuck between the bickering boys, staring up at both of them with a dumbfounded expression. Before either boy can strangle the other, you’re speaking up and interrupting them.

“I don’t mind,” You say. “I’m just… surprised.”

Both boys are silent now, aggravated probably, and you giggle. You reach up to rake your fingers in Taehyung’s hair and then look up at Jungkook, using your other hand to grab onto his chin once more and force him to face you.

“Come here, you idiot,” You drawl. “I want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your dick.”

Jungkook seems taken aback but then his eyes are sweeping down your body and he writhes in his seat. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him down onto you to kiss. It’s passionate and rough but hot altogether as your lips smack against one anothers. Jungkook’s desperate situation seems to hit him again, especially when you snake one of your hands down to his length and wrap your fingers around him to jerk him off. He pulls apart from you, gulping.

“Fuck, okay, okay,” he gasps. “I need to be in you right now, please.”

You and Taehyung smirk as Jungkook shifts around on the bed to kneel between your legs. He pauses, glancing up at you once more and noting the way you bite your lower lip seductively, before finally pushing himself in. He goes slow, but not as gradual as Taehyung. You can still feel him stretching you open and he groans. He seems to slide the rest of the way in with a lewd squelch sound because of just how wet you are and then he’s buried balls deep, fitting so snug within you.

“Holy shit,” he whines. “You weren’t kidding, Tae. She feels amazing.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “What does she feel like? Let her know, Kookie.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut momentarily to focus. “Wet,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Warm, tight ━ fuck, so tight.”

He marvels at the feeling, wonders how you can still clench so tightly around him despite being stretched wide by Taehyung. He bows his head to rest in the crook of your neck and moans. His words are enough to spur on your own reaction and you whimper against him.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook━”

The sensitivity you feel in your core met with his hard cock makes you cringe but simultaneously pleases you and you’re bucking your hips for more. He groans at the feeling, his hands flying down to grip your hips. He’s big, stretching you wide, but you feel anything but pain except for the sharp burning sensation as the intensity of your past orgasms start to hit you. He rolls his hips back and then thrusts into you so hard that you yelp and jerk back on the bed.

“Go easy on her, Jungkook,” Taehyung admonishes. “She’s not a doll.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sighs, nipping at your throat. “You just feel so good, Y/N.”

“I’m okay,” You reassure. You feel his length twitch within you and your head lolls back. “Fuck, I feel more than okay.”

“Can we try something?” Taehyung asks.

He receives two weak nods in response. Jungkook pauses, shifts the two of you until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips, his dick never once slipping from your core. The older boy grabs onto you and yanks you onto his hips.

“What do you say we give Y/N the pleasure she deserves?” he asks. He pushes his length past your folds and is rewarded by the sound of your moans as your jaw unhinges. “Think you can handle both of us, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” You gasp.

Jungkook seems just as enticed by this. He’s careful as he pushes his cock into you and your reaction is explosive. With Taehyung already stretching you wide, you wonder how Jungkook will fit but it’s snug and perfect. You can feel him stretching you further, inch by glorious inch, and he hasn’t even begun moving when your walls clench around the two of them. Taehyung hisses in your ear and Jungkook pauses at once, sputtering for air, giving you time to adjust. When Jungkook pushes himself further into your cunt, rubbing against Taehyung’s cock and your own walls, you can’t help the delicious moan that falls from your lips.

“Oh my god,” You whimper. “Fuck, fuck, that feels so fucking good━”

It’s such a sticky, hot mess, and all you can hear is the sound of guttural moans and grunts. You jut your hips forward, a silent plea for something more. Jungkook’s hand grasps at your ass and then he’s pulling out. He growls suddenly, thrusting his hips forward and the sensation suddenly overwhelms you. As he picks up a pace that leaves you breathless, Taehyung slowly thrusts into you and the pleasure becomes too much. Your hands reach out to grab at anything, fingers digging eagerly into Jungkook’s chest, Taehyung’s sides.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook grunts. His face is scrunched in pleasure and concentration, his mouth hanging open.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung growls. “You like being stretched wide like this, huh? Such a good girl too. Fuck━”

He’s sweating, but so are you, and all you can hear is the sound of yours and the boys’ moans, the vulgar wet slap with each thrust Jungkook makes. It’s only amplified with each small leisurely thrust Taehyung makes into your throbbing pussy, his dick rubbing against Jungkook’s with each thrust. Your walls tighten around Jungkook and Taehyung as the seconds pass and you know you’re already close to your third orgasm of the night but you try to hold off despite the room spinning. All you can do is lay there for Jungkook to ravish and control, for Taehyung to enjoy, too caught up in the moment. Your breasts bounce wildly with each thrust Jungkook makes and his gaze seems fixated on your chest before flickering down to watch himself disappear inside you each time. Taehyung is raking his fingers through your hair, soothing you through your next climax and it’s close.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, panting hard. “I’m not gonna last.”

You push your hips forward as if to probe him on and he growls.

“No, shit, let me enjoy this, baby,” he whines. “Ah, so tight━”

He’s grumbling to himself, cursing under his breath and you smirk tiredly. Jungkook leans his head down to kiss at your chest, catching one of your nipples in his warm mouth. His tongue swishes back and forth over the perked bud and your chest arches into his face. Your fingers are clutching tight at his hair even as he obeys and adds more force with each thrust, slowly picking up his pace. His mouth widens and he sinks lower on your breast, humming against you in pleasure. Taehyung’s own pace quickens. It’s not as relentless as Jungkook’s but he makes sure to help aid you to your high, ramming his hips into yours until both their cocks slip into a seamless pattern. All you can focus on is the crude wetness, the way their dicks threaten to slip from your hold at how sloppy and wrecked your cunt becomes.

“Ah, yes,” You hiss. “Fuck, yes, yes━ So good, oh my god━ Right there━”

Your voice is cut off by a loud moan. You feel the familiar wave hit you once more and this time you hardly have any strength to fight it off or welcome it.

“I can’t━” You wail suddenly. “Fuck, I can’t━ I’m gonna cum━”

You’re fumbling for words to warn him that you’re close before you’re cuming around them. Their names wrench from your throat in no discernible pattern, accompanied by vulgar curses. Your body writhes between the two boys, your chest arching into his mouth, your legs tightening around Jungkook’s waist.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Jungkook coos. “Come on, wanna feel you cream all over us━”

Stars form behind your eyelids and explode into galaxies as they swirl down your spine and to the tip of your toes, making them and your fingers curl in delight. Your vision grows blurry and tears stream down your face at the build up of pressure finally being released for the third time and you can’t help it when your mantra turns into delighted sobs and whimpers. You’re clenched so tight that Jungkook feels as if he hardly has any space to move and the confinement of his length has him gasping. He pulls apart from your breast to watch your scrunched up face with hooded eyes. He moans again, and desperately leans down to suck at your jawline.

You’re too spent to keep up with him or Taehyung as he helps you further to your high but you know Jungkook is close when his thrusts become messy, quick spurts. You gasp each time he thrusts up into you until he’s finally cuming.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna cum━ Gonna let us fill you up, baby?”

“Please, please, wanna feel it,” You mewl.

He slams his hips into yours and stills for a moment as he releases into you in one hot wave and emits a beautiful moan of your name. You’re panting hard even as he rides out both your highs with a few more incredibly sloppy pumps before he finally collapses against your chest. The two of you are struggling to catch your breaths, your heart beating in your ears.

The room is silent, blissful, and it takes you a few moments of basking in it before you’ve regained your breath. Your fingers rake in Jungkook’s soft and sweaty hair and you hum in content. His mouth presses a few open mouthed and hot kisses along your neck and jawline before connecting with your own mouth. This time, the kiss is chaste and you smile against his lips before he’s pulling out of you. You moan at the missing feeling of his warmth and the way his own cum leaks from your core, down Taehyung’s cock, and your own thighs.

But Taehyung isn’t done. He thrusts up into you to ride out his own high, pushing Jungkook’s release back into you. His pace is steady, deep, and all you can both do is moan and gasp for air.

“Fuck, Tae,” You rasp tiredly. “Cum for me, baby.”

The boy gasps for air, nearly fumbling behind you to reach his high. “Gonna make this pussy mine. Fuuck━”

When Taehyung finally reaches his own high, it’s in another sticky stream of hot cum, each fluid mingling with the other in a pitiful mess. He pulls his slackened length from you and you whimper at sudden the loss, core and legs aching. As you slide onto the bed between the two tired and breathless boys, Jungkook wipes at your glistening core with a shirt and you sigh in content.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” You gasp, earning a chuckle from both. Jungkook lets out a boisterous laugh and you flick his arm. “If you say anything dumb, we’re never having a round two.”

“Round two?” he asks, wriggling his brows. “You want this to happen again?”

You nod, though you can already start to feel yourself succumb to sleep as it creeps upon you. “What do you think, Tae?”

“I think,” The older boy hums, “that’s your best idea yet.”

Jungkook seems surprised, excited even, and you smile sleepily. Taehyung throws his arm over your waist and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping you in his arms as he slips off to sleep. 

Before you fall asleep that night, you snake your arm up Jungkook’s chest and let your hand rest against his beating heart which you can still feel beating shrilly even long after your messy night together.

You awake to the familiar sound of your alarm.

It’s loud, annoying, and jolts you awake only to toss you into a haze of muddled confusion and an incredibly terrible hangover. Your head throbs and your body aches. Sunlight splashes in from the closed blinds and illuminates your face, making you squint.

“Turn that off, Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Taehyung snaps, his voice muffled and aggravated.

Your mind is too groggy to realize he’s sleeping next to you, too groggy to suddenly remember what happened the night before. Until, of course, you feel your limbs tangled with not only Taehyung’s but another’s. When you crane your neck to look, you see Jeon Jungkook splayed out beside you sleeping peacefully and you gasp.

The events of the night before suddenly flood your mind and everything is hazy up until your wild time with the two boys. Your muddled sober mind alerts your heart and suddenly it’s beating hard and fast in your chest as you register the situation. You’re used to waking up with a naked Taehyung by your side but never were you used to waking up next to a naked Taehyung and Jungkook.

Jungkook stirs in his sleep then and you curse silently, diving for your phone on the floor before realizing your drastic mistake. Your core is still tender and your legs feel so delicate, nearly caving in beneath you as you wobble precariously. Somehow, you manage to grab your phone and tap the snooze button hastily. Taehyung’s still half asleep on his side but Jungkook lays on his back and you’re surprised to see him looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” You hiss. “Holy shit, that wasn’t a dream?”

You gnaw on your lower lip and reach down blindly to grab the nearest article of clothing on the floor (one of Taehyung’s shirts) to toss over your bare body. To soothe your aching muscles, you resort to kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“It wasn’t,” Taehyung murmurs.

“Nice to know you think our dicks are dream worthy though,” Jungkook snorts. “So when’s our round two?”

Your promise from the night before dawns on you all too suddenly and, though you feign your usual annoyance for both boys, the potential prospect of another night with the two of them thrills you to no end.  

“I━ I━” You stammer.

“Come back here, baby,” Taehyung muses. “It’s too early to be up right now. You can sleep a bit longer before you pretend you hate the both of us.”

Your eyes flicker down to your phone to check the time: 6 a.m. You can barely walk, let alone function this early in the morning, even without the added stress of your hangover, and sleep seems far too appealing to ignore. Maybe you can stay for a few more hours…

“Fine,” You grumble. You crawl back between them and wiggle around until you’re laying back on the bed. “But you’re making me that cup of coffee when I wake up, Taehyung.”

“Anything else, princess?” Taehyung grins.

“Maybe run me a bath too,” You wince as you settle back against the bed. “Everything hurts.”

“Will do,” Jungkook says. “Gotta do the most to make sure we get that second round. Now, come here━”

The boys snicker and, soon, the three of you have slipped back into a peaceful slumber.

You know that when you wake you’ll profusely deny that the night before and the morning after had ever happened; that you’ll never again find yourself in either Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s bed, much less with the both of them at the same time ━ but you find that you never really listen much to rules anyway.

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[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

[pillow-anime-talk]

mistletoe. {pt.2}

synopsis: Killing cursed spirits with Satoru, winter prom with Metori and sincere conversation with Juuzou.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships & crush culture; romance; fluff; a bit of angst; sfw

includes: female reader ft. satoru gojou {jjk} + metori saiko {saiki k. no psi nan} + juuzou suzuya {tokyo ghoul}

part one {click}

— SATORU

“... Y/N-chan, on the left!”

“... Hey, hey! Look up, sweetheart!”

“... Oi! Behind you!”

“... Behind you too! Kick their asses, Satoru~!”

“... YEAH! Here’s my super strong girl!”

You two have been in the forest; for over twenty minutes you dealing with killing smaller or larger curses that frightened mushroom pickers or wild animals. You had a lot of fun doing it, all the time competing to see who killed more evil creatures. Of course, your boyfriend was winning so far, by three, but how could you know that some of them would come out of the forest litter, literally letting the white-haired man kill them all in a few seconds? Well, but at least you killed about twelve curses yourself, and that was a really nice result.

On the one hand, you enjoyed spending time with Gojou like that, because it was very rare for the two of you to be together on a mission, but on the other hand... It was the time of Christmas that you wanted to spend in your own home, surrounded by delicious food and desserts, hot wine or beer, loved ones, including your boyfriend’s cute students or your mutual friends. From a long time, that is, from the moment you became a sorcerer, you didn’t spend any holidays, birthdays or anniversaries as you would like. There was simply no time and energy for it because every day, apart from some Sundays, you worked to make life better for vulnerable people. It wasn’t a bad job, but sometimes... when you looking at ‘normal’ couples you envied their ignorance to the fact that some evil had appeared around them. You envied them that they could spend their free time together doing stupid things or relaxing in front of the TV.

So you sighed softly, raising the hand in which you held the small pocket knife. Small as your anti-curse tool was, it was also extremely effective and dangerous. Therefore, you cut the throat of one of the evil souls without any problems, thus defeating the last enemy.

“Ahhhh. Finally...! You’re not hurt, baby?” The young man said in a cheerful voice, and you shook your head in disapproval. Second later, you cleaned the little knife and then, hid it in one of the pockets of your black pants. “Would you like to get some hot chocolate and cake?”

“Huh? Have we finished all our work for today?” You asked in surprise, and the man just bit his lip with joy, putting his finger to his mouth after a while.

“Yes, although you forgot one thing, love.” You raised an eyebrow at his amused words. However, Satoru quickly got rid of your unawareness as soon as he raised his right hand and pointed at something above with his index finger. For a moment you were sure that he meant a curse that hadn’t been killed before, but as it turned out, it was mistletoe growing on one of the tall trees; you were surprised that during the fight he was able to additionally notice a small, green plant. Anyway, you just chuckled lightly as you stood on your tiptoes and tugged at the twenty-eight-year-old by his jacket.

You were happy that at least this one, very sweet Christmas moment could happen to you during the winter season. Thanks to this, these holidays weren’t so bad and devoid of spirit.

— METORI

Every year there was a winter prom at your school; it was the third time for you, while for Saiko, who only joined your class this year, it was something new. Of course, he was skeptical about it from the start and generally discouraged by the very idea of ​​spending time with all PK Academy students, classmates and teachers. That’s why he immediately told you that if you want to go to the prom, he can arrange whatever prom you want; he literally said if you wanted Beyoncé he could call her.

But you just smiled warmly and said that school party is enough for you and you really like it. So he couldn’t refuse you... after all, the gray-haired young boy had a huge, indescribable weakness for you. Plus, even though you’ve been dating for a few weeks, Metori still couldn’t understand how... gentle and simple you were. You weren’t interested in luxury, his money, where his father worked. Instead, you asked every day if he had breakfast, if he would like to go for a walk with you, if he would like to come to you for dinner because your mother cooked a delicious Mexican dish. It was something new and nice for a teenager who had grown up in prosperity and splendor throughout his life. It didn’t bother him, but the prom... it was quite strange and mysterious. But he agreed, so he couldn’t take his words back because he didn’t want you to get sad or disappointed.

Thus, he bought a new, well-fitting and expensive suit – one that would fit perfectly with your delicate dress, which at the same time matches to the color of your shiny eyes. He also paid for new shoes, a watch, and a hairdresser visit, but even that couldn’t compare to your soft, natural blushes and the sweet facial expression you gave him when he came to your house with his butler.

“... You’re stressed?” You asked quietly as you sat in the car and he squeezed your little hand between his much larger ones.

“I’ve just never been at a prom... public... especially at school.” He muttered, and though he turned his head, you could see a hint of blush on his nose and both cheeks. So you chuckled lightly as you cuddled up against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

The school hasn’t changed much; only a few holiday decorations have been added here and there. However, the gymnasium took your breath away because it was magically decorated. But before you had time to take your seats on the other side of the door, your physical education teacher stopped the two of you.

“Couples enter after payment.” Mr. Matsuzaki said, and the Santa Claus hat on his head added to the charm of his muscular figure.

Of course, Saiko was already taking out his wallet, but you quickly stopped it, pointing in a specific direction. It was, obviously, the smol mistletoe, which was the aforementioned entry ticket for couples who decided to show up at the ball together. So you smiled slightly at your boyfriend and he looked at you confused.

“What is it?”

“O-Oh, you never kissed under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing under it has any meaning?” He asked, still surprised, and you just moved closer to his face, stealing a short, really sweet kiss.

“It’s a tradition, love. You have to kiss under every mistletoe if you notice one.” You said happily and then thanked the teacher for going inside the gym.

Of course, Metori in his head was already calculating how many tons of mistletoe he should buy so that you could continue kissing him as sweetly as you just did.

— JUUZOU

You put two cups of hot, beautifully fragrant chocolate on the table; one was with two white marshmallows and the other with six. Of course, it was easy to guess which portion was for Juuzou and which was for you. Nevertheless, you smiled gently and then sat down next to the white-haired boy, staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“... About what did you dream, Juuzou-kun?” You asked softly, taking the purple cup between both hands. The warm ceramics pleasantly burned your all fingers, which made you breathe blissfully. “Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. We can just sit in silence and drink our sweet cocoa.” You added after a brief second so as not to put unnecessary pressure or general stress on the nineteen-year-old.

“It’s no big deal. I dreamed about my mom.” He admitted hesitantly, also taking his dark-green mug. “When I woke up and looked at the calendar I realized we had Christmas time and... Well, my mom never gave me any, not even a small gift, nor did I ever spend that time like other children my age. It hit me a bit. Not that I regret it, but... what Christmas really is?” His short speech made you look at him with a very sad expression on your face and after a quick while you just put your warm chocolate on the table, getting up from your wooden chair and walking to a random cupboard in your smol kitchen.

This year you didn’t have time (because of work) and no idea (because of fatigue) for presents for loved ones, and even more so for the unexpected guest – Suzuya, who loved to sleep in your house because, as he once said, ‘He felt at your place very safe’, but you managed to come up with a little surprise fastly; you wrapped a red ribbon that was in the cupboard with needles and scissors around an unopened box of nut cookies. You also managed to find a piece of paper and a black pen, so you wrote a concise but sincere wishes to the inspector, which ended with a tiny heart and a star. Out of the corner of your eye, you also noticed the mistletoe lying next to the clock, which was a little joke your dear friend had made to you two days ago. So you took everything and went back to the quietly sitting Juuzou, smiling slightly at him, even a bit silly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about gifts before, but... I hope that’s enough. After today’s work, we can go to the gallery or the park to see the decorated Christmas trees, you will surely like them. Happy Holidays, Juuzou. I hope next year will be a good one for you.” You said shyly as you handed him ribbon-decorated cookies. At the sight of them, the boy only blushed, then looked at your other hand, which was still gripping a little twig. “Ohh... it’s... such a small tradition where you get a kiss under the mistletoe.” You picked up the plant and then placed it over the white-haired young man’s head, bending down after a while and giving him a short peck on the left, smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas once again.”

“Merry Christmas to you too and... thank you for that.”

You only smirked, reaching for the mug of already cool drink. However, you weren’t disappointed in drinking the cold cocoa, because the honest, slightly timid smile of the boy you liked from the beginning of your work at CCG warmed your whole body better than any other hot chocolate, tea or coffee.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 23

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

It doesn’t feel real until she sees the flutter on the ultrasound, the grey and white pixels flashing erratically confirming a healthy ten-week pregnancy. The doctor gives them a due date of September 17th, and she explains to Mulder repeatedly that the due date is only an estimate, that the baby will most likely arrive sometime in the two weeks before or after that day. Nonetheless, he prints little numbers in the corner of each date on the calendar, counting down.

She is lucky to experience very little nausea, but the time saved clinging to the toilet is instead allocated to bursting into tears at every tiny inconvenience. Mulder comforts her with a confused expression when she cries because she can’t find a Tupperware lid that fits, or her latte has too much foam, or she realizes she can no longer see her toes. She cries because she’s crying, because she feels out of touch with her own body and thrown off by her own emotions. They marvel at the growth of her belly as well as her breasts, which are even more sensitive than they were before. Her libido kicks into overdrive at the same time that she becomes incredibly self conscious about her protruding belly, her fuller face, her swelling feet. This leads to more tears as she grapples with both wanting desperately to be touched and not wanting him to look at her.

He tells her each day how beautiful she is, her hair growing longer and thicker, her skin glowing, her rounding belly housing the perfect little life that they created together. When he’s home, he rubs her feet every night, fetches her countless glasses of water and then helps tow her out of the bed so she can pee ten times in the night. When he’s on the road with Monica, he calls three times a day, asks Missy and her mother to go by and check on her, calls in dinner to be delivered so she doesn't have to cook. As her due date nears, he stops going on out-of-town cases, needing to be close enough to be by her side immediately when she goes into labor. He will not risk missing the birth of his child.

The apartment becomes cramped with a bassinet, changing table, pack n play, and various other baby gadgets. They consider moving, but the idea is too overwhelming for Scully so they decide to stay put until the baby becomes mobile and they really need more space. Mulder breaks the lease on his apartment and moves his fish tank into the living room, putting the rest of his furniture in storage until they buy a house. Priscilla breaks in all the baby gear, sleeping in the car seat and jumping into the swing, covering the tiny onesies with her black fur and making Scully cry yet again. Mulder refuses to let her scoop the litter box, even though she insists it’s safe if she wears gloves and washes her hands afterward. Other tasks she’s forbidden to complete include cleaning the toilet, carrying in the groceries and hauling laundry to the washing machine. When he’s on the road, she misses him as much as she is relieved to be able to be independent, not much caring for being treated as though she’s made of glass.

For the majority of her pregnancy, Scully insists that she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby, that she wants to be surprised. Mulder respects her decision, even though he would personally like to know, and they create two lists of potential baby names, Scully crossing off “Lisa Marie'' each time Mulder tries to add it to the “girl” column. When she reaches 39 weeks, her pelvis widening as the baby drops into the birth canal, she is so miserable that she has a change of heart, needing to feel connected to this thing that is destroying her body and stealing her sleep. They call the doctor together on a Thursday afternoon as Scully sits on the couch in tears, having woken that morning to find angry red stretch marks marring her previously lily-white belly. When Mulder relays the doctor’s message that the baby is a girl, she sobs harder, and he’s not sure whether it’s because she’s happy or disappointed.

She wakes him at 3:00 am on September 21st, the irregular Braxton-Hicks contractions she’s been feeling for weeks having taken up a predictable cadence, now ten minutes apart almost on the dot. He starts rushing around, scrambling for her hospital bag and his shoes, and now it is her turn to provide comfort, to let him know there’s plenty of time. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital until the contractions are five minutes apart, and so they wait. The progression to nine minutes, then eight, then seven is alarmingly fast, and by the time she agrees that they should head to the hospital she’s starting to feel pressure low in her pelvis. Mulder drives too fast, the streets thankfully still quiet in the early morning, and she is wheeled into labor and delivery with not enough time for an epidural, much to her lament.

Molly Katherine Mulder has blue eyes and a dark shock of nearly-black hair. She barely cries at her entrance to the world, instead searching the room with a curious gaze, squeezing her daddy’s finger with an impressively strong grip and latching like a pro. They are able to go home the following day, Scully wincing as she moves gingerly from the bed to the couch, rinsing her tender stitches with a bottle of warm water and bleeding through entire packages of overnight maxi pads in a day.

Mulder takes off work for two weeks and they spend blissful days curled up in bed with the baby nestled between them as Priscilla curiously sniffs around her, licking her hair with a rough tongue and making them laugh. Each time Scully wakes at night to nurse, Mulder insists she go back to sleep while he changes the baby and walks her around the quiet apartment until she is asleep, singing softly and lulling them both.

When Mulder returns to work, Scully insists that he get a full night's sleep and let her wake up with Molly, reasoning that she can take naps during the day. She does not, of course, take naps during the day. Instead she tries to keep the apartment clean, the clothes washed, the diapers taken out to the dumpster, the litter box scooped. She does too much, and he sees it each day as she grows more and more weary, more and more defeated, the bags under her eyes deepening in color and her mouth rarely hosting a smile. He begs her to let him do more, to ask less of herself, but she is stubborn and strong-willed, the very things he loves about her now keeping her from properly taking care of herself.

They struggle through sleep-deprived arguments over who left the breast milk out on the counter all night, why it matters if he changes the baby on the floor instead of the changing table, why Scully doesn’t want to supplement with formula so he can take some of the night feedings. Her doctor releases her as medically clear to have sex after six weeks and she cries as she tells him that she doesn’t feel ready, that she can’t imagine anything worse than sex right now, and he holds her as he tells her that he doesn’t care, that she should take as much time as she needs, that he can wait.

They struggle, and they thrive. Moments of absolute unadulterated joy are punctuated by intense despair and overwhelm. The gain of a family against the loss of a life where you could pick up and go, stay out until 2:00 am and make love in the middle of the day. They are happy, and they are stressed, and they face it together.

On a Saturday in December, Mulder wakes early and takes care of every conceivable task in the house; the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, scooping the litter, buying the groceries. He checks every item off Scully’s to-do list and then takes Molly for a long drive, leaving Scully alone with nothing to do in hopes that she will rest for once. When they return from their excursion, he creeps into the quiet apartment with a sleeping baby in his arms and sets her in the bassinet by the couch. At first he thinks maybe Scully has gone out, but he finds her in bed asleep with soaking wet hair, Priscilla curled up behind her knees. He watches her for a bit, affection clutching at his chest, then changes into sweats and kicks Priscilla out so he can snuggle up behind Scully. It feels so infrequent that they just lay like this anymore; one of them is always about to get up with the baby, about to get ready for work, or doesn’t want to be touched after a tiny person has clung to them all day. He pulls in a deep breath, smelling her lavender bubble bath and feeling the rise and fall of her ribs against his chest. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he can’t resist pressing a tiny kiss to the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums in response, twisting her body around so they are face to face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Where’s Molly?”

“She’s asleep in the living room.”

She sighs and snuggles closer to him, pressing her forehead into his chest and pushing one of her legs between his.

“This feels nice,” she says contentedly, and he brushes his hand softly up and down her back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired. Frumpy. Like I haven’t put on real clothes or a stitch of makeup in three months,” she laments.

“Well, I’ll give you tired,” he says softly, “but I can’t agree on frumpy. I think you look very beautiful.”

She scoffs against his chest.

“You don’t have to placate me, Mulder. I know I’m a mess.”

“Maybe so, but you’re my mess,” he retorts, pushing his fingers into her hair to gently scratch her scalp.

She tilts her head up to look at him, appraising his face with a skeptical eye.

“Is this what you thought it was going to be like?” she asks, her tone open and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

She sighs. “I just wish I knew when I might start to feel like myself again,” she says sadly. “I can’t help but feel like you’re not getting what you signed up for.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a concerned frown.

He sees her eyes growing glassy, dampening with impending tears. “I mean the woman you asked out in the autopsy bay isn’t the one you’re with now,” she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

“That’s not even a little bit true,” he implores, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “You are everything you were then, and more. I’m amazed by you every day.”

She closes her eyes, a tear rolling across the bridge of her nose. He feels his chest ache; the need to make her understand is overwhelming.

“Hey,” he says, pulling the blankets back, “come here.”

He pulls her into a sitting position and slides off the bed, towing her along with him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He kneels on the floor between her knees, his hands on her hips.

“If you think for one second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I don’t care if you wear giant milk-stained T-shirts and have spit up in your hair for the rest of our lives, Scully. You’re it for me, okay?”

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes, but won’t look at him.

“Stay here,” he commands, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he returns to his post kneeling at her feet.

“We knew this was going to be hard,” he says tenderly, holding one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself before Molly was born, that it would be the hardest time in our lives, and that we’d be at our worst. And I’m telling you that if this is your worst, sign me up, okay? It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

He holds up his other hand, a diamond ring perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re not ready to say yes yet, that’s okay, but I need you to know that I still want to marry you, Scully. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need, but there hasn’t been a single day since I asked that I haven’t still meant it.”

Her tears have stopped, though her eyes are still wet and the tip of her nose is red. She looks from him to the ring and back, her eyebrows stitched in contemplation.

“I didn’t hear you ask me a question,” she says quietly, and he picks up on the slightest lilt of playfulness in her voice, which makes him break out into a smile.

“Dana Katherine Scully, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She smiles then, and he thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answers, and he takes her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him repeatedly, soft pecks devolving into lingering smooches as he shifts up slightly, pushing her back gently to recline on the bed. He moves over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, not going any further, not wanting to rush her.

She brings her hands to his hips, letting the tips of her fingers slip under the waist of his sweatpants, and his cock stirs. It’s been so, so, long, and he wants her desperately, but not until she’s ready. She pushes her hand down the front of his pants, gripping him as he grows hard under her touch. It’s overwhelming in the best way; he feels like a teenager being touched for the first time.

“I wanna have sex,” she breathes into his ear, the words rushing out quickly as though she’s afraid she might change her mind if she waits too long to say them.

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asks, and she nods, bringing her palm to his cheek before glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling.

They move slowly, though still with a sense of urgency that a baby sleeping in the next room brings. He pushes her shirt up and she lets him take it off, then slips the yoga pants off her hips, leaving her in basic black cotton briefs. He sees the hesitancy in her eyes as he looks at her body, now softer than it was before Molly, curvy in different places, purple streaks running from below her belly button to disappear under her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly, running his tongue along the grooves of her stretch marks. He loops his thumbs under the waist of her panties and tugs them down slowly, quickly undressing before he rejoins her in the bed.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he asks with a serious expression, and she nods, letting her legs fall open as he settles between them. He lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in achingly slowly, watching her face raptly. Her mouth opens slightly, and she takes in a sharp little breath. He’s about to ask her if it hurts when she closes her eyes and her mouth drops open further as she breathes out “oh,” in a way that he knows means pleasure, not pain. When he’s all the way in, their hip bones pressed together tightly, he stills and kisses her for a while, feeling like he could melt into a puddle for how good everything feels. His heart, his mind, his body, he is all wrapped up in her and it’s exactly where he wants to be.

He begins to move, and she responds with an arch of her back and a little gasp, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Little by little, he increases his pace until he knows he won’t last much longer.

“What do you need?” he asks, and she brings her hand to her breast.

He dips his head, flicking at the hardened bud of her nipple, and feels her clench around him. He plays with the level of pressure, licking and sucking, pleasantly surprised that she is enjoying it even as her breasts have taken on a purely functional role these last few months.

She pulls in a huge breath, arching her back and pressing her head into the mattress and he groans as he feels her tighten around him. She emits a single piercing cry when she comes, stifling it with an arm slung across her mouth. He pours into her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her like a life raft. She is, in fact, all he needs to survive.

Resting half his weight on the mattress beside her, he stays inside as they both come down, panting and smiling, brushing hands over each other’s skin, reconnecting.

“Ah!” Molly yells from the living room, and Mulder laughs.

“You’re being summoned,” Scully says with a tender smile.

He withdraws from her, handing her his T-shirt to clean up while he slips on his sweatpants and retrieves Molly from her bassinet.

“Guess what, Goose?” he says, using his special nickname for her, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

“AH!” She squeals, flapping her arms.

[rightsockjin]

Timbs part 2

Hello beautiful people! Merry Christmas and Happy holidays! Since this blog has grown so much even during the time of our temporary hiatus, and this story (Timbs from the dynamite series) continues to get attention, I thought that I'd listen and write a part two! Happy Christmas Y'all! Also, I do want to address some stuff that is in this pic. First off, as a group, the writers at right sock decided to give each member of BTS a permanent girlfriend. So basically, nicknames which will make it easier to refer to other girls. This is the first real place you will see that. Y/N is nicknamed Bunny in this. But Y/N is used as well. Just incase it confused you.

Anyway! On to what we all came here for!

Summary: After your last encounter with your best friend and the words exchanged, you aren't sure where you stand... but maybe you should focus on where you lay...

Rating: M! Big M!

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff. All the good stories are hehe.

word count: Drum roll please....7,378!

Warnings: Stalking, being eaten out, mentions of blowjobs, kink talk. someone walks in during the deed....kinda. Jealousy. General meanness. Naked people y'all. nipple stuff. I think that’s all??

Part one

Master list

He closed the door behind him. It thudded thickly in the small apartment of his that you frequented. It was in the same state as you had seen it the last time you had been over. Boxes were still packed, dust covered the old furniture, save for the couch that had been a combined gift from all of his friends as he was the last to move out, that had come with the appartnemnt appartment, and heaps of bubble wrap and packing peanuts littered the floor. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

Your nose itched and you could feel a sneeze coming on. With a slight shake of your head, you looked over your shoulder and gave your best friend the look. Eyebrows slightly raised at the center, a light smile teased your nude, mint chapstick coated lips. A hint of incredulity mixed with “really?” and some other emotion that you tried to snuff out completely. Something akin to fondness perhaps?

Jungkook had his black shirt covered back to you. His hair was grazing his lower ears and lightly ruffled as he turned to look at you after checking that the door had indeed locked as he forgot to lock his door constantly which made no sense because it was an automatic lock, but somehow, he had already gotten people accidentally walking in on him in less than opportune moments. Namely, this girl who lived near by was always accidentally walking into his apartment thinking it was hers, but you surmised that she couldn’t possibly be that stupid and was coming in purly because she thought Jungkook was cute and single.

You knew this because one time, you had been over and she “accidentally” walked in while Jungkook was in the restroom with a cute little confused face on which fell as soon as she saw you lounging on the couch eating a particularly stringy mango. She stumbled through an awkward apology before quickly closing the door and going to her actual apartment.

But Jungkook was convinced that she was just very lost and very new to the building. You couldn’t bear to break it to him. Or maybe you didn’t want him to realize that she most likely had a crush on him. A creepy, stalkery crush… maybe you should tell him...

Jungkook’s mask sat slightly under his nose. His eyes widened when he noticed you staring, completely zoned out from your light flashback. He blinked in confusion, frozen for a second before he slowly crossed his arms and raised his own eyebrows at you.

You shook your head and scrunched your eyebrows at him then. Your hands held up in question. A stance that clearly said “what are you looking at me like that for? I’m the one judging you here.”

Again, with mirth in his eyes and his nose scrunched slightly, signaling that he was smiling under his face cover, he mimicked your stance. He leaned down slightly to get on your level. His mistake. You would think he’d learn by now.

You smacked the side of his head lightly enough that you were sure it didn’t hurt but also hard enough to get him out of this weird theater mirror exercise thing he was doing.

“Ow? What the fuck, Bunny,” he questioned, closing one eye tightly and rubbing the spot on his head you had tapped as if you had bruised him.

You rolled your eyes but reached up and patted his head lightly before giving his hair a small scratch that you knew he loved as an apology. Without fail, he smiled down at you with squinty eyes and a scrunched nose. The fondness in his eyes reached your own body. A sense of calmness. Your body relaxed.

You made to remove your hand from his hair, but he put his own hand over yours, begging you to keep it on his head for a second longer. You complied, only because you liked to mess with his hair almost as much as he liked for you to mess with it.

Jungkook ripped his mask off as you mused his hair gently. His breathing slowed and he let himself take yet another step closer to you. The scent of sweet pea flowers danced around him like a lullaby.

He was tired. He hadn’t realized he was tired until that very moment, since your outing hadn’t really been something to tire him out. He was usually fairly energetic around you and lunch was hardly an activity that would make him feel tired, but now, a nap was sounding really nice. He wondered if you would nap with him if he asked.

But then your hand was off his head and you were stepping away and the peace was lifted. He snapped his eyes open, a pretty pout decorated his pink lips which went ignored by you.

“You should really unpack all this stuff Kookie. The dust is really obnoxious.”

And then you rubbed the underside of your nose and sniffed aggressively. Jesus, how were you this...breathtaking? He felt the emotion building in his chest. It compressed into his ribs and pressed on all his organs. It grew bigger and bigger until it felt like he would explode. Almost like the weeks before when you had your head between his legs with your saliva dribbled down his cock and onto his-

AACHOOoo!

Jungkook was nearly knocked off his feet with the force of his sneeze. Instantly, the pressure in his chest loosened a bit but not entirely. Not enough. He blinked down at his body, feeling betrayed.

He could already feel his nice slacks starting to squeeze around his middle. He could only stand there in shock as he watched blood flow to his third leg. He had really thought that he had gotten past the phase of his crush on you where every little thing you did turned him on.

But then again, sucking him off while he fingered you in a barely lit room wasn’t exactly a little thing. It was huge. And he wasn’t just talking about his dick.

If he was a braver man, he would have made something of that first encounter. Maybe asked you where you stood. Maybe confessed that as much as he thought you were beautiful in every physical way, he was highly attracted to you. Just you. The you that barged into his room whenever she felt like it. The you that texted him every morning with a synopsis of your crazy dream and used the word dick as a verb, a noun and an adjective at any given point.  The you that liked to bitch at him for every little thing he did because it was out of affection.

But no. You had left that day and neither you nor him had mentioned it once while you hadn’t rejected any of his date invitations, he couldn’t muster the courage to actually ask what your relationship was. Not even in passing. He was starting to wonder if it had actually even happened or if he had imagined it, but every time he goes for his laptop and sees the dent on the edge where it hit the floor, he is forced to recall the sweet scent of flowers and your dripping center.

He had to stop that. If he kept letting his head wonder this way…

Well, he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, which is why he hadn’t brought it up. Or that’s what he told himself.

“Well bless you,” you said with a slight giggle, “That sounded like it hurt.”

Jungkook forced his awareness away from his crotch, realizing that if he wanted you to not see it, it would be best to not draw more awareness to it himself and the limb that was awkwardly sticking to his left leg.

“A-a little. Maybe you’re right. I really should sweep this place. I just haven’t had time since i’ve been spending so much time out with you.”

You scrunch your nose at him. His cheeks were a little red, though you assumed it was from the cold outside since the tip of his nose was also a bit red. Then, he pushed his hair out of his face, you noticed that so were his ears.

Weird. He only ever got rosy ears when he was embarrassed? Well he should be. His apartment was a mess. He probably shouldn’t have even moved out. You doubted that he knew how to clean his own ass let alone do his laundry. You were going to tell him exactly that, sass locked and loaded but something- maybe it was the way his pants fit or the way that his chest protruded through his shirt or the muscles in his arms- told you to look down.

His thighs were always your favorite part of him. So strong. Rideable. How could you not when he spent so much time making sure that they were solid as a rock. You could salivate, in fact you were salivating thinking of the last time you had your mouth anywhere near those legs and his dick deep in your throat.

If you really focused, you could fool yourself into thinking that he was hard in that instant. But no. Wait. Was it? Was he?

You snapped your eyes back to your friend. Your friend that you wanted to be more than that but you refused to say so, to see that he was looking around the apartment thoughtfully.

“Why don’t you go home for today, Y/N? I should get started on-,” he cleared his throat and visibly swallowed, hoping that if he got rid of you quickly enough, then you wouldn’t have a chance to notice the log that was in his pants.

You on the other hand weren’t sure what to do. His suggestion made you do a double take. Your boundary issues had not been resolved from last time. And this was evident in what you said next.

“Gonna beat it to the last time you got a real blow job instead of asking for one or what? Small dick energy.”

And who else could that have been than you? Your brain caught up to your mouth a second too late to take anything back. The words floated out in the open like an invitation. Well, wasn’t it? Isn’t that what you had meant? Probably. Your brain tended to go that direction when it came to Jeon Jungkook but had you really just offered him a blow job?

There was a second in which Jungkook’s face steadily turned the color of a cherry tomato and he began to sweat slightly. His eyes were wide and he was looking at you like he must have misunderstood. Were you speaking the same language?

His body tensed and blood pumped predominantly to his cheeks or his nether region. He felt a little faint even. Was the room spinning? It felt like it could be.

You watched him reel and try to compose himself. This was similar to the last time you guys had partaken in activities that weren’t usually shared by platonic friends. And like that instance, you felt the urge to run. To get out before he had a chance to don his other persona. The one that makes you weak in the knees and something of a brat.

“Is that like an offer or are you being an ass?” he asked, sass dripping from his tone. He pushed both hands into his pockets, the tips of his fingers grazed his hardened rod, already sensitive despite it not being entirely hard.

You crossed your arms, not sure if you wanted him to take you up on your invitation or if you wanted to retract it.

Jungkook took a step closer to you, waiting patiently for you to find your voice. He wasn’t going to pressure you. As much as he had enjoyed it last time, he couldn’t live with himself if you did something just for his sake.

You leaned against the back of his couch, the head rest was pushed slightly against your lower back, grounding you.

“No pressure, Y/N,” he assured, suddenly feeling like the playful tone that this activity had taken on the last time may seem a little pushy if you really didn’t want to partake once again.

But this solidified in your mind that as much as he seemed turned on, he clearly had enough respect for you to make sure you really were into the situation as much as he was. This was enough to push any feelings of unease aside and focus just on what was being given.

“I mean… honestly, don’t you kind of owe me for last time? I basically did all the work and you just sat there like a rock.”

Jungkook gaped at you, he put a hand over his heart and scooted slightly closer so that there was only a foot of distance between the both of you now.

“You were the one calling the shots babe. If you wanted me to do something more than just shake that,” Perfectly sculpted and hard work evident, “ass then you should have said something.”

His vibrato dropped for a second, his eyes met yours, “I’d do anything you ask of me, Bun.”

Your heart palpitated wildily in your chest. The words he had spoken to you that night came back to you then. You dreamed of those words. Hoped he would say them again in a different setting but never had even acknowledged that it had even happened, so you were left only with dreams and foggy memories of the way your name sounded on his sweet lips and the three words that you craved to hear.

He’d probably said it in the heat of the moment. The emotions were high and your climaxes had just...well climaxed so maybe it wasn’t that he L-worded you. It was that he L-worded what had just happened.

The issue then was that you did mean them. You meant when you said that you L-worded him so the blow of your relationship staying exactly the same as it had been before, nearly made you want to cut ties with him completely out of pure embarrassment. But you couldn’t. Because he didn’t let you. Any time you didn’t answer your phone, he was at your door. Any time you avoided set dates, he’d find you. The jerk wouldn’t let you leave, and you were too weak to let him go anyway.

But then there was that sparkle of...something, in his big eyes that made him seem so genuine and willing. Subconsciously, he licked his lips and you could only imagine those same lips on you. His head between your legs.

Could you take his offer? Did you have the courage to ask for what you wanted?

“A-anything?”

Junkook’s teeth made an appearance before he chuckled lowly, “Do I make you nervous? Is- is that’s what’s going on here?” He asked, gesturing between you two with one finger. Confidence poured out of every pore.

Instantly, you scoffed. Because no. Jungkook, baby boy, bunny teeth Jeon didn’t make you nervous in the slightest. But then why did your voice get stuck in your throat? Why did your mind go blank? Why were you fidgeting incessantly?

Jungkook hissed, a laugh chimed deep in his throat, “Who would have thought that the only thing I needed to do to get you to shut up was to offer to do you? Wish I would have known this years ago! I would have offered more often.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles flexed against his shirt. Your body thirsted at the sight. What would he look like on top of you? Pinning you down?

Your eyelid felt heavy. Lust coursed through your body. If you could just speak-

“So what will it be? Want me to eat you out? Fuck you? Spank you? Or are you more of an orgasm denial type of girl? You know, if this is going to work out, we should really talk about those kinks. Maybe think of a safe word? Or are you not that kinky? Cuz I’m pretty kinky so we should definitely talk hard limits as well-”

You watched him monologue in complete shock. Did he think that this was going to be a common occurrence? No. You didn’t usually sleep with guys just for the hell of it unless you were never going to see them again, and Jungkook clearly did not fit that criteria so no. You couldn’t just casually sleep with your best friend.

You opened your mouth to tell him this when you suddenly tuned back into the conversation.

“-and I mean… I know it might have been a bit fuzzy but I’ve had fun on our dates so far so I guess it’s natural that we take this to the next level? If- If that’s okay with you! Mama always told me that a gentleman never rushes his woman. Not that you’re mine! Or like that I own you or anything like that! No, no, I just mean that I like you and well you like me and like… the dates? So we’re like together? A couple? Should we have that conversation as well? I don’t know… what do you think, Y/N?”

You blinked at him in complete shock. Had you been dating Jungkook for the last couple of weeks and hadn’t noticed?

In hindsight, he had been paying for some of your meals and while he had done this on occasion, it had become more of a regular thing. He’d also been a lot more clingy than he had been. He’d even tried holding your hand  a couple of times only for you to panic and pull away.

All of this information seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. Oh my God… You had been dating Jungkook! How the hell did you miss that??

When you didn’t answer, combined with the horrified expression on your face that he had no way of knowing wasn’t complete disgust at the idea of him touching you, Jungkook feel like a total idiot.

To him, it seemed clear that the last thing you wanted was for his nasty hands anywhere near you. Couldn’t he take a hint? Clearly not, because you hadn’t so much as tried to kiss him on the cheek and now here he was offering to eat you. Talk about jumping some steps.

He took a step back, trying to give you some room so as not to force himself on you but he could feel his heart constrict. He was not gonna cry. He was not gonna cry. He was not gonna- oh…

Tears pooled in his pretty eyes. They burned with emotion and he really wanted nothing more than for you to leave and never speak to him again while at the same time wanting to jump into your arms and be comforted.

Regardless of his feelings, he stayed rooted to the spot he was standing in, his hands folded neatly before him as he bowed his head in a small apology.

“Oh...I uh… I overstepped. I’m so sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean to- to make you uncomfortable.”

He balled his hands into fists trying to distract himself from the emotional pain of the blow you had dealt.

You on the other hand, were struggling to come to terms with what was happening. How did you stop this from spiraling further? And.. was he crying? No! He couldn’t be crying! You had to stop this. He may be obnoxious and a baby but he was apparently… your… obnoxious baby!

Without thinking much, you closed the distance with one big step and wormed your arms around his torso. You shimmied your head under his chin. Jungkook seized for a second. Unsure what he should do.

But as the shock wore down, he let his body relax and wrapped his strong arms around your body as he was shocked with emotion. At the end of the day, you were his best friend and if he was going to be consoled after a girl broke his heart, it would be you who would do it, even if that girl who broke his heart… was you.

But then, why were you kissing his neck softly? Was he imagining it? No. Because in the next second, you were grabbing his chin with your thumb and forefinger- they were ice cold- and you were pulling his face to look up at you.

When your eyes connected, your heart shattered. The pools of tears turned to streams in the mountains of his cheeks then conjelled at the valley between his collarbones.

Of course, on top of his good looks, he was a pretty crier. That was so unfair. Almost as unfair as the beautiful fan of eyelashes that caught his sparkling tears. And the voice that could only belong to an angel that he possessed.

You couldn’t help the slight smile that crossed your chapstick lips and the fond scrunch of your nose before you closed the three inches or so of air that divided you. When your lips settled onto his, you felt rather than saw him freeze for the third time that day.

His lips were a little salty and a little minty. Vaguely, you remember him applying and reapplying his chapstick all day. Now you wondered if he had been doing it out of nervousness.

Then his hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, balled at the nape pleasantly. He was breathing hard. Like he’d run a marathon or danced a full concert.

His lips were pressed so firmly onto yours that you were sure they would swell and bruise after this. You let all semblance of control be taken from you. One of his hands slid down to the arch of your back tentatively. Like he was scared to break you or that you would tell him to get off.

You arched your back with his hand, pressing your high necked cotton shirt into his chest. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his own shirt and the muscles that covered it.

With a sigh, you opened your mouth as he opened his lips and sandwiched your top one within his own.

You could feel that he was still crying, but you weren’t exactly sure why. You could ask later. Right now, all you wanted, all you knew he needed, was for you to kiss him and make it all better. To fix whatever it is you had done. You could piece him back together if you tried hard enough.

So when he began walking you backwards towards the couch, you didn’t fight. The hand on your back moved over to your hip. His lips were connected to yours, open wide, his tongue explored the wet cavern of your mouth. Teeth clashed awkwardly, the kiss was out of sync. You let him maneuver your head whichever way he wanted with the hand that was still firmly in your hair. He leaned over you. His body seemed to completely incompace yours. Your back was arched almost forty five degrees. It wasn’t painful at all. Instead, it pushed your hips flush against his.

His member, which had shrunk significantly only seconds before, was now growing again, filling with the erotic arousal that pulsed in his veins. A hulk in disguise was being pulled from the Bruce Banner you were so used to. And you were all too eager to let him show you this side of him.

Like a man on the brink of drowning, he pulled his mouth from yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. In a split second, he leaned down and picked you up from the knees. You wondered if he would carry you to his room or throw you over his shoulder, but he sat you down on the back of the couch before he placed a quick peck to your lips.

Then, like the sadist he was, he pulled away again, smiling up at you through red eyes. He wasn’t sure what this meant. If this was a sign that you too were too scared to bring up the relationship and the conversation that could change everything, but that could wait for another time. Right then, all he wanted was to show you, with his tongue, with his mouth, with whatever limb you let him, that he was falling for you. Hard.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes. A sigh escaped your lips. If you opened your eyes, would it be over? Would he ask you to leave? Would it once again go back to how it was for the last couple of weeks?

Eventually, you did open your eyes. Jungkook could see the fear and unsteadiness in them. The red around the brown made you hurt deeply in your soul. A tender hand reached out to cup his cheek. The light scratch of your freshly done nails was pleasurable to his senses. Goosebumps. Then a strong shiver. And he felt himself melt for the girl he had known for so long. And you for the man whom you had watched grow from a frightened boy.

“Are you going to touch me or are you going to punish me for all the times I left you high and dry,” you laughed. Even in this tender moment, you couldn’t hold your tongue, but Jungkook didn’t mind. The engine of his brain was whirring and he could hear, all he could see and feel, was you...you...you. Nothing but you and the way your hair hung under your chest and covered your left eye. Nothing but your chest rising and falling and the smile on your kissible, bruised lips.

How could he help himself? The answer? Would always be you.

He kissed your nose, then your cheek. An eskimo kiss. You giggled. It was the most beautiful music to his ears.

“You want me to Bunbun?” Internally, he cringed at his overly affectionate name but you smiled brighter and the insecurity left as soon as it came.

“Is that my name now?”

“If you want it to be, or you could choose another one?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, now that you were almost level with his eyes- though now you were a bit taller than him. You shrugged.

“I like it. Bunny, Bun, BunBun, any variation.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Who knew you were this cheesy, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you opened your legs so he could slot himself between them. You pulled him closer and wrapped your legs around his waist. A mischievous smirk crossed your lips.

“What’s with the face,” he asked, sniffling a little.

“What face,” you asked, feigning innocence.

“This face,” he countered, gesturing vaguely at your eyes.

“Oh this? Ah well you see,” and then without ending your thought, you let yourself fall backwards with your legs and arms wrapped tightly around his frame. He was much heavier than you and clearly more muscular but with the weight distribution you were able to pull him over the back of the couch and twist both yourself and him so you landed on the cushions. His body atop yours.

By the look on his face, he clearly had not expected you to pull him, nor did he expect for his center to land directly on yours, but the shock gave way to the joy and fun that tended to encompass your everyday encounters.

His high pitched giggle of a laugh made an appearance which caused a multitude of butterflies to flutter through your intestines and chest. He relaxed into you, laying his head cautiously onto your breasts, pushing his middle away from your heated core. (yes, he noticed)

He could hear your heart beating against the- hehe squishy- lump of fat on your chest. Instantly, he knew that he could spend eons on your bosom uninhibited and satisfied.

But the pulse of his confined member made his head swirl with thoughts less than innocent.

When your nails lightly scratched at his back and the smallest, lightest moan left your lips, he knew you must be on the same page. Or at least, he hoped. Spurred on by the heavenly shapes and your inquiry from a couple seconds before, Jungkook picked his head off your chest and hovered over your left breast.

There was a question in his eyes as he looked between your boob and your face. One which you couldn’t answer verbally as your heart rate picked up and the lust poisoned your veins.

With the slightest nod, he had everything he needed to lean down and lightly nip at the mound through the thin material of your beige shirt. The warmth of his breath traversed the stitches easily. It sent pleasant shivers through your body, settling in your core.

He nibbled softly around what he hoped was your nipple, before he kissed the center of the mound with tender lips. His eyes stayed looking up at yours, searching for any signs that he should stop. You bit your lips and took a deep breath, dropping his questioning gaze and letting him take the reigns once again.

Jungkook felt you relax into him. Relief flooded his chest. With a little more confidence, Jungkook looked with his mouth for the hardened bud of your breast and pulled it softly between his teeth. He was rewarded with a moan, only slightly louder than the one before and he realized, he wanted you screaming. He wanted you to moan his name. Hear your voice penetrate through the walls of his apartment and disturb the neighbors. This was his new goal.

“Y/N,” he said softly trying to get your attention. Instantly, you looked down from your position, your pupils were blown wide. A beautiful sight.

“Is it okay if I-” and then his confidence waned and so he gestured to your shirt with his eyes a couple of times. You smiled at him.

“Mhm, go for it Kookie.”

Was this what it felt like to be called a good boy? Because Jungkook loved it. He needed more. More. More.

Eagerly, Jungkook untucked your shirt from your pants and bunched  it up right under your boobs. The expanse of skin that he had exposed seemed like an oasis in a desert. He couldn’t help the pull of gravity that connected his lips to your stomach. They were not soft, nor gentle. They were fast and more pecks than anything. They tickled your skin as he tried to cover every single open spot with his love.

He worked his way up and nudged your shirt higher with his nose.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Jungkook?” You asked exasperated.

“Can I take this off?”

You groaned, “Yes. Take it off. All of it, my shirt, my pants, my underwear. Whatever you want. You have my permission.”

Sheepishly, Jungkook obeyed. You raised your arms over your head and arched your back to make it easier for him to undress you.

He pulled it off swiftly, ruffling your hair in the process. He tossed the shirt aside, excited to see what he was unwrapping. He wasn’t disappointed. Had you known you would be undressing for someone today? Or did your undergarments always consist of lavish fabrics and sexy shapes?

Jungkook didn’t care. He just felt honored to be able to see it. The see through fabric held together by underwire did little to hide the prize behind the clothing. Your nipples stood pert and puckered under it all. Begging to be released. He wondered if your underwear matched.

It was weird. The things one noticed when something monumental was happening. Like the golden stiching that held the bra together, or the way that the underwire dug into your skin to hold your perfect breasts in place.

Then in a second, he was moving again, frantically unbuttoning your pants and ripping them off your body without hesitation. He must know. It was life or death for him   to know if your underwear matched.

He tossed the pants in the opposite direction of the discarded shirt. He watched it fly over a lamp and land on a box that he thought had his art supplies. With bated breath, he turned to look at you. It felt as if his whole life had been leading to this moment.

And yes. The answer was that you were wearing a set. His mouth salivated as the scent of your arousal hit his nose. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your folds and die.

But he slowed down and took in every inch of your body. He wanted to remember it. Every freckle, every curve. He wanted a picture to hang in his bathroom or to draw you on his ipad so he could use it to jerk off when you weren’t around because after this, he knew that no other image would do it for him. Not anymore

He watched your chest heave. He looked up at your face again, asking for permission even though you had already given it to him.

“Jungkook, if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds I’m gonna bite your dick off,” you growled.

Oof… that was not one of his kinks, thank you very much, but it was the last push he needed, because he slithered down your body and pulled your legs around his shoulders staring at the promise land between your legs.

He could already see a bit of your natural lubricant running down your lightly covered slits.

You watched him, entranced by how hypnotized he seemed by your entrance. A laugh gurgled at your throat.

“Wow, if I knew that all it would take to shut you up was for me to wrap my legs around your head, I would have done it sooner,” you teased.

But the laughter died on your lips as jungkook opened his mouth wide and licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Even with the fabric in between his tongue and your skin, it felt like heaven.

“Fuck, Jungkook…” your hand flew to his hair, tangling in the locks of deep noir that you loved to braid when you two sat together watching a movie.

He kissed up and down your lower lips lovingly, lickig his lips as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life.

He hummed, sending a long vibration to your core which clamped around thin air as if trying to stop it from leaving.

“I can’t wait to really taste you, Bunny… fuck you’re delicious…” Every word was like a strike to your center. Arousal gushed from your entrance that made jungkook’s eyes sparkle in earnest enthusiasm.

Without asking, he pulled your underwear to the side, and buried his face in your juices. A bit of self consciousness wormed its way into your brain. He could be lying about how it tastes. Did it smell okay?

But the devilish sounds of him slurping and sucking at your folds pushed the thoughts away. He held your ass up, pulling you closer and closer to his face. He never felt like he was quite close enough. His nose brushed continuously against your clit and when he noticed the way you screamed under your breath every time it happened, he made it his mission to continue to do just that as he laved at your pulsing hole.

You had been hiding all of this from him. The paradise between your legs. The treat at your center. He wouldn’t let you hide from him any longer. He’d rather perish than to go one more day without your center at his lips.

Short, consecutive moans fell from the petals of your lips. Your orgasm built slowly at first, not coming to a head- both literally and figuratively and he could tell. He pushed his tongue into your entrance. Your walls closed on it, trying to keep it inside. His name came from your lips like a prayer. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted you to scream his name. To never be able to think of another doing what he was doing to you in that moment, so when your eventual crash came, he was less than satisfied.

You were breathing heavily. Your legs twitched. Jungkook ripped his face from your core only because you pulled harshly at his hair. From his nose to his chin, he shone with your cum. If there was anything hotter than that you couldn't picture it.

But then he was standing, and he ripped his belt from the loops and began to undress.

Looking over his shoulder as he pulled his pants down he said, “Take off your bra and underwear. Are you on the pill?”

Shocked, you followed his demands, though they were given loosely. You shook your head no and he gave you one nod of confirmation.

“I have condoms. You’re not allergic or anything right?”

Again you negated his question with a shake of your head and he half smiled.

“We could stop if you want-”

“Don’t be a fucking tease, JK,” you rolled your eyes and spead your legs, hooking one on the head rest of the couch so he could see your abused lips which were dripping for him.

His eyes widened only for a second, but then he tore his shirt off and scrounged for his wallet where he kept a condom. He ripped it open with his bunny teeth and pulled his underwear off unceremoniously.

You watched in fixed fascination as his cock sprang free of its confines, so hard that it looked painful. It was bound to feel good.

He rolled the condom on carefully before he situated himself between your legs and wiped your juices from his face. He was partially on his knees and partially standing. It was easy to find your entrance with your legs spread so wide.

When his head pushed in, you let your head fall back. Maybe it was because you already had one orgasm under your belt or maybe Jungkook’s dick was just a good fit but pure pleasure filled your body. He watched your reaction, gritting his teeth as your walls clamped down  around him, resisting his entrance.

“Does it hurt?”

You gurgled something that you couldn’t make out but Jungkook seemed to understand because he nodded and pushed in farther, slowly. He bottomed out, his balls gently hit your ass and your vagina clenched, feeling every ridge of his member within you.

“Fuck… Y/N… I… I don’t know how long I can last…”

It was so sensitive. Every little twitch of his dick felt monumental. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you could last either.

“Move,” you managed.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He pulled out slowly then slammed back into you. Your skin clapped loudly in the mostly empty apartment. You whimpered. Your back arched. He pulled out again, then slammed back in. His pace was marked. Timed. It made your boobs jiggle as he grabbed your hips to help you meet his movements.

Cute little ‘ah’s filled his ears. They got higher pitched as you neared your end. Jungkook couldn’t believe his luck. You were so tight. So wet and the way your walls closed around him made him grow close to his end much quicker than he ever had by hand.

“Y/N… I’m gonna… I’mma…”

But you beat him to it. Your pussy clamped down and fluttered around him as your second orgasm crashed upon you.

You moaned his name as he continued to pound into you. Whines and pleas went unheard as he sped up. He needed you to know who you belonged to… in like a totally consensual way.

You were so sensitive, but the pain of over stimulation gave way to pleasure far too soon and a third orgasm consumed you.

In pure shock, Jungkook grunted and moaned, your vagina got even tighter around him. And he came violently, with his dick mid thrust and his name bouncing off the walls in the tone of your exhausted voice.

Spurt after spurt of white, hot cum spilled from his member and into the condom. He was so caught up in his pleasure that he didn’t notice nor hear the front door open.

Both of you heard a gasp and footsteps. Jungkook, mid orgasm, snapped his heavy head to the sound. To his complete surprise and embarrassment, there stood the aloof neighbor that was always walking into the wrong apartment.

At first, you were embarrassed, being naked was not something you did frequently in the presence of others, but then you were upset. Angry. How stupid could one girl be? Shouldn’t she learn that this was not her place after a billion and one mistakes?

For a second, all three of you were frozen. Jungkook’s orgasm finished and his cock quickly deflated. He jumped to action quickly, throwing his body over yours to cover you before he looked back at the neighbor and said, “this isn’t your apartment!”

Over Jungkook’s toned shoulder, you watched her eyes dart to his exposed ass before they filled with tears.

“Oppa…” she said under her breath, before the tears streamed and she turned on her heels and hurried out.

Your blood boiled. It seemed you were right. She wasn’t stupid at all. She had a crush on your… person? Whatever he was. He was yours- in a ‘I want to be yours and like it’s totally okay for you to say that’ kind of way, and you were not going to put up with some random girl who clearly didn’t have boundaries.

Jungkook looked down at you, his cheeks were red and you could tell he was extremely uncomfortable.

Carefully, he pulled his softened member from your core and made a show of removing the condom then disposing of it. You began to put your underwear and bra back on, watching him walk around his apartment butt naked. Would he say something? Or would you have to bring it up?

After minutes of silence, you decided you would have to be the one to break the awkwardness.

“So uh… do you know what her actual apartment is? Maybe we can put a note on your front door for her to remind her,” you half joked, standing to find your shirt and pants, but settling instead for the button up he was wearing before.

Jungkook pulled his shorts on, his back was to you. There was a tenseness in his muscles that wasn’t going away and something in the air struck fear in the pit of your stomach.

“She lives next door.”

Something about the way he said it made you feel like it was a confession of sorts. It made you want to run.  But instead, you sat in his shirt as he rifled in his boxes for a pair of more comfortable pants before you decided to drop it for now, knowing that whatever it was that was hanging in the air around you wasn’t something you were ready for.

“Jungkook, where's your broom?”

“Uh…,” there was a hint of a laugh in his voice and some of the pressure lifted from the atmosphere, “was I supposed to buy one?”

You rolled your eyes for the millionth time that day and berated him for not having bought the basic necessities for his home. Everything felt lighter, but still like you were trending on eggshells. It felt like instead of taking a step forward, you had taken six steps back. You were no more clear on what you were or what to do than you had been the last couple of weeks.

You helped him unpack that day, because you knew he wouldn’t do it on his own. He joked with you as if nothing had happened, and you sassed him all the same but something was off… and you didn’t know if it could be fixed without it first breaking you both.

[thedarklingxalina]

A Darklina fic I'm playing about with but not committing to yet. This would be the first chapter. I need to finish Dark Guardian first but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Eclipse

Summary: Alina is an investigative journalist, investigating the death of her childhood friend, Mal.

Alina is reunited with her other childhood friend, Aleksander - known to the world as Kirigan, a famous actor and grisha rights activist. All too quickly though, Alina begins to discover Aleksander is hiding a dark secret.

Modern Grisha AU. Everyone has their powers. Mentions of suicide. Mild torture.

Saints, give me strength. 

Alina stared at the rusty mesh gates through the rain speckled windscreen. A barrage of warning signs prohibiting entrance were pinned across the fencing. Keep out. Danger. Risk to life. On one fence was a display of withered flowers entwined around the metal, with hand-made laminated pleads to stay away, to remember that someone out there loves you. 

It was a somber sight. Careful reminders of the danger that lurked behind that run-down gate, past the abandoned warehouses, looming at the end of decrepit wooden bridges. Even from here Alina could see the mass of swirling shadows, an endless stretch of darkness that tore Ravka in two.

And here she was armed with wire cutters, ready to break in. Foolish, reckless, stupid. Exactly what she had been told not to do. 

This is for Mal, she reminded herself.  

Alina took in a deep breath and left the warmth and safety of her car. She put on her medical face mask, slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and tucked her camera inside her satchel. 

She didn't plan on staying here long, but seeing as research into the side effects of prolonged exposure to the Fold was ongoing, she decided to err on the side of caution. 

Gravel crunched under her boots as she approached the fence, making her way to a part hidden by the treeline. There she cut a reasonable size hole for herself to squeeze through. 

So far, getting into the site was easy. Too easy really, considering the dangers of this place.

Abandoned heavy equipment littered the rubble ridden grounds. Metallic, battle-worn Skiffs (centuries ago once manned by Squallers before new technological advancements replaced them) laid in ruins around the site; rust-encrusted, dented and torn up. The warehouses were dilapidated, weathered down and overgrown with weeds. 

And that wasn't even mentioning the bridges that crossed the ten foot moat, giving unhindered access to the Unsea and the monsters within. 

This place was a death trap. 

"Why in the Saints name did you come back here, Mal?" Alina asked. 

He had loathed this place. Everyone in Os Atla had. There had been vocal opposition from the public for decades, demanding the site be shut down. The residents of the city uncomfortable with an access point to the Fold being right on their doorstep. 

This skiffyard's infamous reputation for being the most dangerous, certainly hadn't endeared it to people, no matter the flow of trade it provided. It had the highest fatality and injury rate of an skiffyard. Budget cuts producing poorly made Skiffs that broke down frequently and were east pickings for Volcra. Breaching person capacity on each trip to increase profit. Bribing of safety inspectors. Understaffed. Overworking their employees to exhaustion. 

The place had been a nightmare. The stories Mal had told Alina about it over the years still made her recoil. 

The final nail in the coffin for Skiffyard 13 had been when three urban explorers had snuck into the docks, using it to bypass the the forest and ten foot moat separating the Fold from the city - deterrents erected over a century prior, to keep the public safe. The three individuals, the youngest only fourteen years old, had never came out again. 

The dock had been shut down. Workers like Mal had been relocated to other docks outside the city.

Yet despite this, the site had never been dismantled. It was too expensive, was the frequent excuse. The go to excuse for all failures in protecting the general public from the dangers of the Unsea. 

Now, it was the easiest access point to the Fold. No workers to sneak past, no checkpoints, and no maintenance to the gates and various deterrents. There wasn't even video surveillance or electrical fencing, as electronics were unreliable this close the Fold. And much to the people of Os Atla's grief, no armed patrols or guards dogs to keep trespassers like her out.  

Oh, the mayor promised they would upgrade the security on access points to the Fold regularly. But those promises seemed to be forgotten after the elections had passed. Funny that. 

As Alina scanned the deserted skiffyard, the Fold a short walk away, she realized the bitter irony of it all.

It didn't take long for Alina to find the place she was looking. Dock Six. The last place Mal had last been seen alive. 

Alina took a shuddering breath, her grip on her satchel tightening. she closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes.

Another life lost to the Fold, the news reporter had said. A tragic suicide, the police had decided, he left a farewell note on the dock.

A farewell note that doesn't mention me? His childhood best friend. That doesn't mention his girlfriend Lucy who he had planned to propose to on her birthday? 

But Alina's protests had fallen on deaf ears. She was nothing but a grieving girl in denial to them. Even Lucy had tried to discourage her, wanting her to accept-

No. Alina wouldn't hear it. Mal didn't take his own life. He hadn't. He wouldn't. Alina had spoken to him days before. There had been something he had wanted to tell her, something he hadn't felt safe discussing over phone or email. A story, he had said, that people need to know. Then that phone call the night he vanished. That desperate, breathless voice pleading with her through a breaking line. 

Alina... don't... Atla... away- 

Mal? Mal, is that you? I can't hear you, the line is terrible. Where are you? 

Distant shouting, five loud bangs, more static.

Mal? Mal!

Stay away... sorry... sorry...

Something had happened to Mal that night. Something awful that the police were refusing to look into. Alina was sure of it. And come hell or high water, she was going to find out what. She owed it to Mal, to Lucy, to herself. 

Alina scouted the area, alighting her hand with a soft glow to light her way.

It took a while, but the Saints finally took pity on her and Alina found something. Something that she suspected to be the source of the bangs in that final phone call. Gouged into a floorboard of the dock, into a post, and a concrete wall. 

Bullet holes.

They weren't old. The moss overgrowing the post and floorboards having been blasted off with the impact, yet to have grown back. 

Alina snapped some photos. 

After an hour prowling around each bullet hole site, sometimes on hands and knees, getting caked in dust and mud, Alina was ready to give up when an idea sprung to mind. She summoned her light, shining it across the ground until something silver glinted back. 

A bullet, hidden among the overgrown weeds. Alina took more photos before putting the bullet in a labeled ziplock bag. 

Suicide in deed, Alina mused bitterly. Had the police even bothered to check the scene? 

"I'll find out what happened to you, Mal. I swear it."

Alina rose to her feet, dusting her trousers.

Mal had come here for a reason, and whatever it was, someone had killed him for it. But what could be here that was worth killing over? 

There was only one warehouse stable enough to enter. Warehouse three. Alina didn't bother to pick the lock, just melted it off its hinges then crept in. 

The warehouse was massive and surprisingly well maintained. Everything was clean. There was no debris. Creates and boxes were stacked high and neatly.

Alina frowned, extinguishing her light in favor of using a battery powered torch.

If there were people here, she didn't need them knowing she was Grisha. That element of surprise could be the difference that mattered. Besides, there were too many out there that despised her kind; having people know you were Grisha was like walking around with a bullseye on your back. 

Alina crept behind a row of shelves, occasionally taking photos. She stopped at an easy to reach pile of boxes and pulled back the lids. 

Oxygen canisters, boxes of personal protective equipment, bullets (but not the same as the one that she found outside; these were longer and bigger, meant for something... larger.) 

This is all essential items for crossings, Alina realised. And it's all new. 

Someone had to making illegal crossings across the Fold, using these docks as their access point. 

Alina closed the lid, a dreadful unease settling over her. 

What are they taking across the Fold that requires all the secrecy? 

Maybe the answer was in another crate. Alina moved to open another- 

A sharp tug on her heart stilled her, making her choke for air. Alina fell to her knees, the energy in her body bleeding from her.

As darkness consumed her, one though flickered through her mind. 

Saints above, she hated Heartrenders.

☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑

Alina was no stranger to danger. Her investigative journalism had gotten her into many a difficult situation. But nothing ever quite this bad. 

When Alina had awoken, it was to find herself tied to a chair, her hands separated and bound to a steel bar (rendering her powers useless). She was blind folded; inconvenient and certainly unnerving, but it gave her some hope. Whoever had assaulted her, cared if she saw their faces. If they were going to kill her a blindfold wasn't necessary.

"Who are you?" A man asked. Middle aged by the deep roughness. Ravkan by the accent. A grumpy git, by the tone. 

Not the person you're looking for, Alina wants to snark, but thinks better of it. They might not be fans of Star Wars references and honestly, she is too exhausted to try and be smart. Besides, snarky quips and teasing here would only charm her way into a pair of cement boots and a dip in the river. Or the Unsea. 

Alina tried not to shiver. 

"I said who are you?" Grumpy demands. 

"Alina Starkov. Investigative Journalist for the Ketterdam Express News."

There's no point lying. They probably already know who she is with a quick internet search. Lying will only make them mad. 

"What's a small-time news journalist doing in Os Atla?"

Alina twitches at his comment. 

This time the man who speaks is younger. He has a scratchy voice and bratty attitude that made Alina want to kick him in the shin. 

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Nothing more. He went missing three months ago and was last spotted working at the docks you snatched me from." 

Wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you? Put a bullet through his head perhaps? 

"Name?" Grumpy asks.

"Mal Oretsev."

"Never heard of him. Seems you've wasted your time, Nancy Drew," Bratty said. 

I doubt that, Alina mused bitterly. She had clearly stumbled onto something if they were willing to kidnap and interrogate her. 

"That's a shame," Alina said with exaggerated glumness. "Well, if you could just untie me I can head off. Wouldn't want to keep you guys later than need be."

Grumpy snorted. Bratty let out a nasty chuckle (Alina would wager a week on gossip column duty, that Bratty had a very punchable face).

"We can't have snoopy reporters buzzing around here," Bratty says.

Don't panic, Alina tells herself. Don't-

Alina hears the rustle of fabric, then the dreaded sound of a gun's safety clicking off. 

-starting to panic.

"And you think a dead one will prevent that?" Alina swallowed down the hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, but there was still a frantic edge to her voice. "There are people who know where I am and know to call the police if I don't make it back soon. Within an hour this place will be swarming!" 

"She's bluffing." 

"You think I'm stupid enough not to have a back up plan in case something like this happened?" 

If she said it strongly enough, maybe even she would believe it. Because really, a smart journalist would have done that. 

"You were stupid enough to get caught."

Prick.

"You have a heartrender, that's cheat-" 

Someone slapped her, Bratty she would bet. Alina cries out as pain flares hot on her cheek.

That'll leave a bruise, Alina muses bitterly.

"That's enough," Grumpy snapped, his footsteps loud as he got closer. "Tell us, what information do you have on Project Likhoradka?"

Alina frowned. The name rung a bell, but it was too distant to make out. Likhoradka... why would they think she had any information on it? Was it because she had mentioned Mal? Did it have something to do with the illegal Fold crossings? 

"I don't know anything about-" 

Someone slapped her again, worse than before. Where his hand had connected, her skin burned and ached.

Bastard, bastard, bastard, Alina thinks, gritting her teeth.

"I don't know anything! One of you is a heartrender, you know I'm telling the truth!" Alina snarled. 

Alina strained against the bonds on her wrist, tied behind her back. If only she could melt through them. She could distract them with a flash of blinding light, turn invisible, then flee into the night. Had they known she was Grisha and that was why they bound her this way? Or was it just a precaution?

A phone buzzed, cutting the interrogation short. A moment later, Grumpy spoke again. "The boss is here."

Alina heard the whirling grate of the warehouses large doors lifting. A brief wind tickled her face. Then a new set of footsteps, slow and precise, made their way closer. 

Damn it. How many of them where their now? Three inside, but could more be waiting outside? More heartrenders or maybe other Grisha? Infernis, Squallers, more heartrenders?

Alina swallowed hard, sniffing back the tears welling behind her eyes. Hope of making it out of this alive was dimming like a setting sun. 

"And what is this?" A voice asked. He had a pleasing voice; gentle, smooth, young, yet firm. The boss, she'd guess. Boss of what though?

"Nosey reporter from Kansas-"

"Ketterdam, I'm not Dorothy," Alina muttered. But Bratty would certainly make a perfect Scarescrow; no brains and all.

Bratty smacked her again; this time across the head, more chiding than malicious. Speak when spoken to, the message was clear. 

"Does she know anything?" The leader asked. 

"Don't know yet. But she said she's friends with Oretsev." So much for not knowing him. "We figure she has to know something about-"

Bratty stops talking. Footsteps come closer and Alina holds her breath as someone takes a delicate hold of her chin. She gets the impression they are studying her features intently. Long fingers brush aside the hair from her face, lightly tracing the scar on her forehead. 

A scar she had gotten when she was a child, when a group of bullies found out she was different from them. Witch, demon, freak... stones flying through the air... frightened shrieks and tears... and a little boy with onyx eyes, arms out stretched, shielding her from it all... 

The man inhales sharply. 

The heartrender knocked her out again. 

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

[kyoomiii]

♡ Realizing you’re growing up [hcs]

- ✎ characters ❝ iwaizumi, oikawa, and ushijima ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): none other than maybe one curse word ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff, angst (i suppose it’s more bittersweet than angsty) ❞

❝ dedicated to some wonderful third years... σ(≧ ~ ≦ o) ❞

-kyo  ♡

It hit you the moment he began looking at colleges. Watching over his shoulder as he gathered information on what he might want to do in the next coming months, because this was it. Your last year of high school, and the beginning of your adulthood.

And you don’t know when, but eventually it begins to settle in for him too. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s considering leaving Japan, or the fact that he realizes that the school year was coming to an end, but the feeling lingers in the air as it strikes him that he really is almost an adult.

After the epiphany he keeps you close, shyly holding you more because you can both feel it slipping despite still being young.

And you’re right, because one day at lunch with just the two of you Oikawa was probably off doing who knows what he blurts it out, the look in his eyes almost guilty.

“I decided I want to go to Irvine California to study sports science- and hopefully, work with Takashi Utsui…”

The words set a pit in your stomach, your appetite suddenly lost as you look up at Iwaizumi who awaits what you have to say. So you try your best to muster the biggest smile you can, grasping his hand and placing a kiss to his knuckles which send a flare of red to his cheeks.

“Hajime, if that’s what you want to do with your life then who am I to stop you?”

“How did I ever get so lucky to have found someone like you y/n…”

His eyes are shining with happiness as he pulls you into a warm hug, despite being a boy with rough edges, Iwaizumi is incredibly gentle when it comes to showing you affection. He’ll litter your skin in soft butterfly kisses as his heart flutters with joy.

But it only lasts a moment as the conclusion he tried so hard to avoid comes to mind, easily overwhelming his heart.

“So this means…”

“Please don’t say it Haji, I know…”

“y/n…”

A silence falls over the two of you as you lay in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of one another as you try to remember every detail of this feeling of unconditional love.

“I change my mind- I can’t leave you…”

“Hajime, no… Don’t give up what you want to do just for me, I refuse to hold you back.”

“So then what are we gonna do?”

“-I don’t know.”

Every moment from here on is precious. He holds onto it so tightly with every sundown and sunrise, never once staying away from you too long in fear that you’d slip through his fingers without him even noticing.

He begins to ease up on Oikawa too, his insults and attacks becoming less harmful as he recognizes that these may be the last in person interactions he has with his best friend for a long while- especially since Oikawa plans on leaving the country too.

Everything is moving so fast, it felt like just yesterday he and Oikawa entered the Aoba Johsai gymnasium, introducing themselves as first years, and stating their dreams of going to nationals.

But the blindfold is slowly lifted as he glances around the airport, his grip on your hand tight as his thumb caresses your skin. This is it… The gate to adulthood.

“I’m going to miss you y/n- you too Trashykawa.”

“Wow Iwa-chan i’m touched.”

“Don’t worry about us Hajime.”

He can’t help it though, as he gazes at both you and Oikawa with the most loving eyes, even if it did look like he was glaring at the two of you from someone else’s perspective.

“Hey… Thank you, for the past few years. They were truly something special.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now Iwa-chan! *THWACK* Owie...”

His attention turns to you, as he takes a step forward. His lips place a gentle kiss on your own.

“They say that if it’s meant to be that it will happen. I love you y/n, and I always will, no matter what, and there’s no doubt in my heart that we’ll be okay.”

“Hajime… I love you too. You’ll always be the one I love the most no matter what.”

He gives you one last peck to your forehead before turning back to his luggage.

Your stomach sinks as you watch him leave… Growing up is learning how to let go, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

“Ew… Tooru, you’re getting snot everywhere.”

As the ball bounces off of Oikawa’s arms before dropping to the floor, you feel your heart drop. Your body tensing as the gymnasium suddenly falls quiet. The daunting sound of the ball bouncing across the wooden floor echoing throughout the silent space before the sudden roar of cheers erupt from the stands and the opposing team. 

The memory plays in your head, repeating over and over, even as you hold his hand walking side by side surrounded by his boisterous teammates. The mood is light, but your heart is heavy as you walk with the other third years. Nevertheless you try, putting on your brightest smile for the younger members.

However despite all of your efforts you can see it in their eyes- they know, but even so they don’t pry, even as you and the rest of the third years depart.

Oikawa’s grip on your hand tightens once it’s just the third years, the tension in his hold doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you gently squeeze back.

He and Iwaizumi bicker as usual, something you’d miss seeing on a daily despite the fact that it annoyed you to no end, and judging by the looks in Matsun’s and Maki’s eyes, they’d agree, watching nonchalantly as Iwaizumi easily throws your boyfriend from your grasp.

“What are they competing about?”

“The usual.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you’re dumb…”

“So mean y/n-chan!”

“Oi you better watch it!”

And despite the heavy feeling in your heart, you laugh wholeheartedly as Iwaizumi playfully glares at the three of you or at least you assumed he was being playful

The group comes to a stop, the surrounding all too familiar, from the building, the landscape… Your precious memories are stored here in this one building that in your first year you’d call hell.

“Weren’t we heading home?”

“I think… In a way we are home Matsun..”

No one could agree with you more. Over the past three years this building, the gym, and the people within it have become your home. 

The boys, having decided to play for a while, set up the court. The familiar sound of shoes squeaking against the flooring fills the gym as all the third years scurry about.

“Shit, the ramen, I’m gonna puke.”

“You guys are like children...(((￣へ￣井)”

“Haha”

“Especially you Tooru.”

“y/n-channn ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚”

But just like your time here, their session draws to an end as the sun disappears beyond the horizon. They begin cleaning up everything they set out, and as Oikawa jogs up to you for his water bottle you can see it in his eyes, he felt it too…

“Go easy on them Tooru.”

With a gentle kiss to your forehead he nods, quickly taking a sip of his water before turning back to his team.

“Everyone… Can I have your attention for a sec?”

Maki seems to notice the sullen look on your face as he quickly holds his hand out.

“Oi! Knock it off! We’re going out of our way to finish things on a high note, let’s just end this peacefully- “

“Shut up!- Thank you! For the past three years.”

His words begin to sink in, the atmosphere all of you tried so hard to put up suddenly comes crumbling down as Oikawa’s shoulder’s begin to shake, tears streaming down his face. The quiet sobs of the third years following suit along with your own as you watch them from a distance… This was it.

Even as you say your heartfelt goodbyes, despite seeing each other in the morning tomorrow, you can’t help but feel your heart clench. Especially as you and Oikawa bid Iwaizumi a goodnight, leaving just the two of you alone.

“I told you to take it easy on them Tooru.”

But he knows that it was more meant for you than anyone else as he brings you into an embrace, his grip tight as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. The worries of the future suddenly lifting at his touch.

“No matter what happens in the future y/n… My heart will always follow you.”

“I love you Oikawa Tooru.”

“I love you too.”

The end doesn’t always mean goodbye…

After years of hard work and development you watch from the sidelines as the last practice draws to a close.

Third years standing apart from the first and second years as they say their final words of encouragement. And it begins to sink in for you that this really is it. Shiratorizawa, your home since Junior High would no longer be yours after this year. 

And to think, that at the end of your journey here, someone else's begins. The feeling is bittersweet as you say your goodbyes, a pang to your heart as you watch Goshiki cry once more.

You knew this day would come eventually, after all moments like this always come to an end. It’s made painfully clear as you glance around Ushijima’s dorm room. He had always been clean, but the sight of boxes and the bare walls make you uneasy, there are no traces of Tendou’s knick knacks, no doodles on the desks from when either you or the redhead get bored.

It’s almost like no one was ever here, as if some of your most precious memories didn’t make a mark in this tiny room.

Your mind is racing, jumping between past memories and the unknown future. The thought keeps you awake into the late hours of the night, and not even the soothing warmth of the boy next to you can set you at ease.

Ushijima is a light sleeper, it’s been that way since he was a boy, so despite the fact that you are not particularly loud the mere shift of restless movement from you has his dark olive eyes groggily opening. His face is ever so stoic, but his eyes gleam in concern as he looks at you.

He was never one for much affection, even in the confinements of his own room, but nonetheless he embraces your body, pulling you close as he rests his face against the top of your head.

“What’s wrong?”

And for a moment you find it hard to speak, your voice caught in your throat despite his gentle thoughtful touches

“Toshi… Do you ever think of growing up? Or the fact that our time at Shiratorizawa is coming to an end?”

Once again silence falls between the two of you. The only sound being that of Tendou’s soft snores from the top bunk.

“It’s a natural process of life y/n. Everyone grows up.”

“But it’ll be so different don’t you think? We’re going to be adults…This place will only be a distant memory.”

An unfamiliar feeling of worry engulfs your being.

“This won’t be our home anymore…”

Ushijima’s hold suddenly tightens, it’s hardly noticeable, hidden by the darkness of the room, but his eyes soften.

“y/n you are my home, just as I am yours. I will always be here.”

His words bring a sense of peace to your heart, they are fleeting and short, but they linger with you throughout the night, blooming with warmth as he holds you close. He has always been a constant in your life, and a constant he will remain.

“Thank you Toshi…I love you”

You almost miss it, the faint whisper of his voice 

“I love you too y/n”

Perhaps everything will be alright… Growing up means starting new chapters, not tearing out old ones.

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 8: Reminiscing.

SUMMARY: You're forced to sleep, during which Bucky clean your apartment and thinks back through your friendship.

WARNING: possible trigger for SH via overworking. 

NOTES: Sorry it has been so long. This chapter has been a draft since September. Available on Ao3 here as well. 

Masterlist // Ao3 // Previous

Bucky returned to the game and his friends. He knew he had a goofy smile on his face, but did nothing to squash it. You were safe and asleep in his bed, his friends were near and relaxing. No one was in danger or hurt. He was able to breathe a little easier.

"She's down for the count. I'm glad she's off. She needs a break." Bucky told Steve, who nodded in agreement.

You are so whipped; carrying her like a blushing bride, tucking your girl in." Sam teased.

"Nope. You won't get to me. I am quite aware of how I act around her." Bucky turned his his nose up at Sam's teasing causing the others to chuckle.

"Let's finish our game and leave. Bucky's got a sick girlfriend to care for." Clint said, the others agreed.

They wrapped up the game of Trivial Pursuit and cleared the last of lunch. As they left, Natasha and Sam passed along their praise to Bucky for taking proper care of you.

Steve and Bucky cleaned up their mess from their friends. Bucky gathered your things and looked at Steve on the couch. "I'm going to unpack her stuff and clean up the apartment. Maybe do some laundry. She needs to rest and she won't do that if her place is messy." Bucky told him. Steve only waved settling deeper into the couch. Bucky knew that even though it seemed like Steve was resting, he was as alert as ever. "Thanks, Steve. I should be back soon." Bucky left, and using your keys entered your apartment.

You place was a disaster. There was a sink full of dirty dishes, the counter had some and the top of the stove housed some dirty pans. Your trash obviously hadn't been taken out in a few days judging by the smell. Your bathroom floor was overran by dirty scrubs that were so filthy, they could have stood up and walked away. The was a handful of towels mixed in. Your living room had a smattering of empty food wrappers and meal replacement shake bottles. You couch had become a blanket breeding ground and seemed to have become your temporary base of operations. You apartment normally very tidy reflected your lack of time to clean and your recent days spent at the hospital.

Bucky had known since you walked through his door, he was coming over to clean your apartment. You worked 60-70 hour work weeks and when he could he would come over and make you dinner. He either kept you company or supplied a extra set of hands for the days you were really tired or busy. He originally helped you as a way to repay you for all the thing you knowingly and unknowingly helped him with but over time it changed from he should help you to he wanted to help you. He wanted to help you anyway he could, to make you smile, to keep you healthy and happy.

He first decided a load of laundry was the start point. He grabbed your scrubs and threw them all in, adding your extra laundry sanitizer to help with germs and the softener the way you like it. He peeked into your room and saw the perfectly made bed. 'How many times has she come home and collapsed on the couch to get up a few hours later and do it all again?' He kept cleaning, scrubbing the bathroom until it gleamed. He moved on to sweeping and mopping while some of the dishes soaked. He stayed on top of the laundry, he hung your scrubs and replaced the throws that littered your furniture. He was washing the dishes when one of your novelty mugs caught his attention. The was a crack in the handle and the sight of it made him smile.

Steve and Bucky were on their to the compound, the first floor of their building practically empty, talking to themselves. When they saw you it was too late, you were carrying boxes and definitely weren't able to see them. In the aftermath of the crash, Bucky helped you to your feet while Steve fixed your boxes. Nothing was broken except the mug, the handle cracked clean off.

" Ma'am! Are you alright? Anything hurt? Are you dizzy?" Bucky questioned. You shook your head, shrinking in on yourself a bit.

"Ma'am, all you belongings are fine. Nothing broke pardon your mug. I will gladly repair it for you."

You didn't answer him, looking at the ground. Steve and Bucky shared a glance and looked back at you. You seemed to be frozen then you looked up thawing instantly. "Captain Rogers? Sargent Barnes?" You gasped. "I am so sorry. Are you injured?" You lurched forward, hands millimeters from their bodies, wanting to assess for injuries.

They laughed and shook their heads. They tried to be unintimidating, seeing as how nervous you were. "Ma'am, a slight run in like this didn't even phase us. You were the one who ended up on the ground." Steve said.

"I am fine. A little sad my favorite mug is broken." You sighed, handling the pieces affectionately. "Oh, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I am moving into apartment 5B." You stuck out your hand. Steve and Bucky shared a look. That was there floor. The building had two or three apartments per floor.

"Welcome to the building. I'm Bucky Barnes. This is Steve Rogers."

"Nice to properly meet you both. I am a general care nurse at Mercy Hospital. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to knock." You grinned up at the two Avengers before gathering your boxes.

"Please let us help. Can't let you do this all on your own." Steve offered. You shook your head moving to the elevator.

"First, I am strong independent woman. Second, you were obviously o your way to somewhere. Third, 'can't let me? You should know by now, Captain, that is not how you speak to a woman. Fourth I refuse to allow Captain America and The Winter Solider carry my boxes, that is a little too degrading for me." You were just about to step into the elevator. Thanks anyways, boys. Have a good day." You tossed over your shoulder. Steve and Bucky stared at your back before sharing another glance.

Steve blocked the elevator doors with his arm. He darted forward and took the boxes from you. Bucky flashed a grin, turning towards the door leading to the parking garage. "Ma'am, I'm Captain America, yes. And I wasn't really asking."

"Oh? Does the rest of the world know how much of a punk you are?" You asked.

The memory pulled a laugh out of Bucky at you sink. The was the first of many moments the three of you shared.

The day had continued. The three of you had gotten everything out of the moving van. Once done you shoved them out the door telling them to go to work, you had to return the van. When Steve and Bucky got home, they could hear muffled shouting and swearing, you hadn't waited for them to come back before moving furniture.

"Y/N, open the door please." Steve said with a sigh. He knew now he would have to keep an eye on his new neighbor seeing as she was impatient. You wretched the door open, hair sticking to your face and neck, face red with exertion and a plate of brownies in your hands.

Brownies that you thrust at Steve. "Here is payment for helping me today. I am sure the extra calories will be burned off quickly." You shut the door right in their faces.

Bucky and Steve were stunned silent outside your door. They could hear you yelling at yourself quieter than before. "No, they won't join you for dinner, you dumbass. Anyone else would have helped you move in." You were pacing, almost stomping. You threw the door open and took the plate of brownies back. "You can't have these until after dinner. Dinner I would like you ta have with me. In return for all your help." You had a smile on your face even though your hands were shaking.

In one sentence you had caught Bucky's whole undivided attention. He was infatuated with your sass and strength and complete disregard for his and Steve's day jobs.

Bucky blinked back into awareness. He had finished all of your dishes while reminiscing about the day you met. That first day had set the trend for the rest of your friendship. You treated them like normal people, there were a few times you seemed to freeze because of their looks or bulk but most of the time you refused to tolerate their bullshit but you were there for them when needed. You helped keep them grounded when the anxiety and stress and nightmares locked them in their heads and apartment. Bucky liked taking care of you, he liked having a friend that depended on him and appreciated him not for his enhancements but for himself. He liked returning your easy affection and acts of service. He continued to clean your apartment, folding your clothes and putting them on your clean bed. He was straightening up the living room again, fiddling with the throws thinking of the first time you had let him in.

He had just gotten back from a mission. Another group with a badly put together doomsday plot, you had just gotten back from a 3-11 shift. You hadn't seen either of them in a while, your schedules not matching up so you were excited to see Bucky. Bucky was alone, Steve wanting to stay at the Compound to finish up the paperwork and work off the last of the tension. You had forced him into your place with the promise of pizza and his pick of documentary. That was the moment Bucky fell in love with you. You didn't mind that he had the habit of being quiet and sullen. You didn't mind that Steve wasn't there, you were okay with just Bucky. You let him in, you were warm and soft and inviting. He fell asleep on your couch. The next morning Bucky woke up with a pillow and blanket, a big platter of cookies with a note on it.

Taking care of you when you were sick with a cold was the least he could do after everything you did to help him with recovery. You helped him see the benefits of therapy, even helping him through the rougher spots. Sometimes Bucky thought he was closer to you in ways than Steve. Steve didn't know about the late nights spent on your couch learning everything he could about the strange and sometimes intimidating future he found himself in. Steve didn't know how much you soothed him on the bad days, even the thought of you made him smile when he was stuck in his head.

He took one last look around and deemed your apartment clean enough, he turned all the lights off and grabbed your trash to take to the community trash room and headed back upstairs to begin dinner for the three of you.

"I would say it smells good but we both know I can't smell anything." You voice interrupted him. Bucky turned a large grin showing his teeth and dimples lighting up his face. Your breath caught in your throat. Academically you had noticed Bucky's attractiveness. You spent days...weeks pushing down the thoughts and feelings Bucky initiated and it worked for a while. Worked until Bucky started noticing you. At the beginning you had worked regular hours and were doing well but as time passed, needs at the hospital grew and you went from well to good to ok. Bucky began putting the numbers together-the little sleep, the long hours, lost weight, decreased appetite-realizing your lack of self care.

Healthcare was not an easy field, it took a toll on you mentally and physically. You stopped taking care of you to take care of others and after so long it was hard to stop. You had begun the insane hours six months ago, your supervisor promising it wouldn't be long, there was a few graduate nurses due to start soon. You ignored the signs of a depressive episode, lack of attention, apathy, disregard of personal needs-thinking it was just burn out. You decided the best option would be to work through it, get on the other side of the staff issue and take a vacation and be done with it but the staff is still short and now you were sick and needed Bucky to take care of you like a child.

He spent so much time trying to help you with your issues after he worked through his own. His recent help and attention did nothing to help ease you affection for him, you couldn't say anything though. e rarely let people into his circle, he spent too long giving himself willingly or unwilling to other people for you to even ask him for anything. You just enjoyed being close enough to be there for him to lean on, you wanted to help him shoulder his burdens like he did you. 'Bucky Barnes is too good.' You thought.

"Y/N! You're up. Good! Sleep alright? You didn't sleep very long." Bucky said. He gave you a quick look over, seeing you with messy hair while wearing his clothes brightened his smile even more.

"Yeah, I did. I got a little hot so I thought it would be a good time to get up and see what was happening. How was the rest of your team bonding?" You asked.

"I am working on dinner." Bucky told you. You walked over to where his was working only to nudged away. "Aw, hell no, sweets. You are sick. I ain't getting your germs all over my food. Even if I can't catch it. Also you are my guest, so sit down." You took the hint and sat at the table, leaning on your hand.

"I am a guest at your place while I am here. So I can't be of use? But at my place, you have free reign?" You straighten up, glaring at Bucky's back. "You say I am your best girl and you help me all the time, but I can't help you?" Your bravado shrank a little. You felt your eyes grow wet.

"My sweet girl. I'd love nothing more for you to be over everyday. I want you to get better before anything else. I am helping you know. You have already helped me. You just existing helps me every single day. That is why you are my best girl. Always." Bucky pulled you into a tight hug, he could feel you trembling. "Everything is fine. Things were never not fine. I am not yelling at you. I just want you healthy. I also want you to have a place where you can relax. If that means I do chores at your place or you don't do chores at my place then so be it. I don't want you working so hard." Bucky's voice was low and rumbled in your ear where it was pressed to his chest, soothing your frayed nerves.

"Sorry Bucky, I get emotional when I am sick. Doesn't help I've been stuck in my head the last few days." You took a deep breath, calming down even more.

"Baby doll, never apologize to me for how you are feeling. Your feeling are always valid no matter the reason. I like knowing what is going on in that pretty little head of yours at all times. Now, instead of sitting here in the kitchen uncomfortable, got sit on the couch."

"I am only going because I want to pick out a movie, not because you told me to." You tried to sit on the couch but missed the mark turning it into a tired flop.

"You are always so stubborn. Just sit and rest. You have today and tomorrow and the next day off. Let me pamper you. You work too long." Bucky turned back to dinner.

"I know. Work's been so hard lately and my mental health has been deteriorating. I know I can't keep this pace up forever. I also know that I depend on you too much, but I am trying. I am just...so tired you know?" You couldn't face Bucky instead talking to the remote used to control the F.R.I.D.A.Y implemented media library.

"It is okay to be tired. It is okay to ask for help and depend on others. It is okay to put yourself first sometimes." Bucky told you. You stayed silent, thinking over what he said.

"Did you learn that from your therapist?" You joked fiddling with the remote.

"No, I learned that from you." You jerked your head up to see Bucky looking at you. "You taught me that." He reiterated. His blue eyes shone with sincerity. "Now, pick something to watch." He tried to lighten the mood.

Steve came through the door at that moment. "Sorry Buck, I told you that I would stay here but I was needed at the Compound. How's it going?" Steve asked you.

"Good. I am going to take more meds after dinner, and I slept a bit. I was getting the movie of the night started. Wanna get comfy and join me?" Steve agreed and went to do just that. You cued up the movie and waited.

After a bit, Steve came back and Bucky handed you your meds and a plate of food. "Here you go. Make sure to drink all that gatorade."

"Yes, mom." You said sarcastically.

Bucky sighed heavily. "Don't joke. Between you and Steve I am surprised I haven't grown feathers and the ability to cluck."

"I don't know Buck, you do tend to cluck quite a bit." Steve teased him. Bucky glared at him with no heat, moving to take his food away. "No! I'm sorry. Don't be mean." You laughed at their antics.

Dinner passed with jokes and laughter and ended with Bucky tucking your sleeping form back into his bed. He tried to leave but you had ahold of his shirt. "Stay, please." You said, tightening your grip.

"Okay, hun. I'll stay. Let me get changed." You snuggled deeper under the covers while he got changed. Bucky crawled in with you, you turned over squeezing close. He watched over you as your breaths got slower and more regular. You shifted a bit mumbling under your breath. "Love" you Bucky." Before dropping fully into sleep. Bucky smiled with a "I love you too." before doing the same.

*******************************************************************************************

So what did you think? Thank you so much for hanging around as long as you have! I appreciate all your support. 

[yminie]

nine-one-one | dos | pjm (m)

pairing: Jimin x Reader genre/warnings: angst, smut (to come), fluff, oldflame!pairing, detective!jimin, firstresponder!reader, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, mentions of mental health problems, mentions of weapons, explicit language, implied stalking, brief scenes of physical assault. words: 15.3k summary: all Jimin wants is to whisk you away in an attempt to keep you safe, but how can he truly keep you safe if he doesn’t know who to protect you from?

a/n: part two is finally here!! find the first part here which I definitely reccomend reading before this part so you know whats up! :) I hope you enjoy and please send me lots of feedback and let me know how you feel :P

Before the ringing white noise in your ears manages to clear, things are already in motion so fast your vision begins to blur. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realise Jimin is trying to speak to you, his phone pressed tight to his ear as he speaks rapidly into the end while his hand on your shoulder attempts to rouse you from your frozen state of shock.

Your eyes are still stuck on the screen, unseeing as you stare to the point of your eyes burning, but the extra tears it produces are lost entirely in the wetness still pouring from the corners. Lungs burning, you gasp for air while your frame shakes with hiccuped sobs. The front of your shirt is littered with darkened drops of moisture, the tears dripping from your chin sinking into the fabric quickly.

“_____!” Jimin rips you from your reverie with strong hands grasping your shoulders, and you yelp in surprise as he spins you in place to face him, no longer looking at the computer on your desk. His eyes are wild, alarmed, and even a little scared. And the idea that something could make Jimin scared terrifies you even more. “Breathe, _____, please breathe–”

“J-Jimin–” Collapsing forward, he barely gets the chance to catch you as you sag in your chair, knees hitting the floor painfully hard before he quite gets the chance to get a solid grip. Pulling you up, Jimin holds you to his side as you bury your face in his shoulder, and you can hear him firing off orders as rapid footsteps make their way towards you.

“–and I want that fucking audio file analysed. Get on to vocal recognition. I want a list of all the tenants of her building and the three surrounding. I want their records, all their files, any information possible on that sick fuck.” His swearing cuts deep into your consciousness, and you shiver against him violently enough for his arm around your waist to tighten. “She's coming with me. Organise a squad to be at her address tomorrow at 10am sharp.”

You don’t even see where you’re going, eyelids pressed together in an attempt to slow the tears running down your cheeks, yet even with the state you’re in, you trust in Jimin’s guidance. He’s still speaking to you gently, soothingly, as he pulls you through to the elevator, and as the familiar scent of his cologne starts to fill your senses, your breaths start to come a little easier.

When he releases you it’s to brace you against the rail inside the elevator, but his hold on your waist doesn’t falter even as he shuffles back to choose which floor he wishes to take you. But you don’t bother looking, busy doing your best to calm yourself as your head rests back on the cold metal of the wall behind you. The chill is helping you to focus less on the sound of the killers voice echoing around within your head, and you seek the cold even more, turning to press your wet cheek to the surface.

“Hey, you’re okay.” Jimin notices the shiver you don’t and he quickly returns to your side, hand stroking along the curve of your back slowly as he leans over to look into your eyes. “I promise. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, yeah?”

“H-He knows, Jimin. He knows where I live–” Jimin shushes you as your emotions start to escalate, and you’re cut off by your own gasp for air, missing the ding and whirr as the elevator stops and the doors glide open.

“I know, _____. I know you’re scared. But I mean it, he’s not getting anywhere near you.” Jimin’s eyes are intent on you, and if you looked hard enough you’d probably be able to see your own reflection in them. He waits, regardless of the way the doors start to glide closed, until you’re completely ready to move. Only then does he guide you with a warm hand between your shoulder blades out of the elevator, and straight towards his car through the parking lot.

__________

A sense of nostalgia fills you when Jimin puts the car into park in the underground of his apartment building, the familiarity and knowledge that nothing has really changed in all these years distracting you somewhat, and you’re grateful for the slight reprieve. The paint and cars have changed just a little but the building itself is exactly the same, and you can’t help glancing around as Jimin leads you up the stairs to the lobby, pausing as you both wait patiently for the elevator.

“Feel weird?” He asks, guessing exactly how you’re feeling with just a look at your face and the idea makes you smile a little, face feeling dry and stiff from the saltiness still coating it.

“A little. Not much has changed.” The strange part was knowing you’d even lived here, shared a tenancy with Jimin while you were together and had so many days and nights together in the room just a few floors up. You can only imagine how wide your eyes must be as they eagerly take everything in, and yet you somehow miss the way Jimin is watching you, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards as you glance around in wonder.

The elevator makes it to your floor, and you dutifully step in after Jimin, automatically crossing your arms and holding yourself together. Jimin had stopped touching you over time, feeling your calm no longer calls for his contact, and you immediately start to miss his warmth, even when you’d hoped you wouldn’t.

“The apartment hasn’t really changed either, maybe just less decoration.” The thought makes the both of you laugh gently, the heaviness that had sunk into your stomach starting to lighten, and you don’t doubt it for a second.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Remember when I tried to explain the point of throw pillows to you?” His laughter becomes a little louder as he recalls the conversation, and you immediately grin. “You were so confused as to why I wanted pillows we weren’t going to actually lay on.”

“I still don't think I get it!” The muscle memory takes you easily through the elevator doors once they open to down the hall, and Jimin laughs as he drags his keys from his pocket. “All I wanted was to nap on my lounge!”

“They were silk pillows Jimin. Proper silk! You drooled on one and I could never get the damn stain out!” The two of you join in laughter as Jimin unlocks the apartment, breathlessness hitting you both as you make it inside, and for a second all you can do is look around silently.

The lounge had been replaced with something a bit more chic, a plain grey futon that had a messily thrown blanket that just screamed falling asleep watching tv, and you note it was one of Jimin’s bad habits. Not to mention you would then be the one hearing him complain the next day of a sore neck, and always having to massage him until he stopped whining. Even more annoying was how cute he could be whilst doing it, and the memory brings a slight smile to your face.

“Sorry about the mess, I’ve been sleeping more than cleaning these days.” Jimin automatically moves forwards to tidy the coffee table, and you simply shake your head, watching as he scurries about and shifts things around for a minute until he’s satisfied. “Do you want something to drink? I think I have some tea in the cupboard?”

“That’d be great, actually.” You smile gratefully, though it feels a little off even to you, but even though he notices Jimin doesn’t say anything about it, only watching you for a moment before moving into the kitchen. Listening as he fills the kettle with water, you walk slowly through the apartment until you reach the floor length windows on the side, wincing as you hear something fall in the cupboard as he digs around. But your eyes never leave the skyline, the sunset turning the sky oranges and pinks as it starts to settle behind the buildings, and you let yourself get lost in the sight.

“Hey, you want peppermint or chai?” Jimin’s voice right beside you makes you jump, stumbling a step away before he drops the boxes of teabags and moves to stabilise you, and you close your eyes to pull a deep breath into your lungs. “Hey, you’re ok, I’ve got you.”

“Sorry, I–sorry.” You’re looking down at the little packets all over the floor, immediately bending to pick them up, but Jimin holds you tightly in place, refusing to let you do so, and after a few seconds of stubbornly glaring down at the mess, you finally look up at him.

“Don’t apologise. I mean it, I’m not letting anything happen to you. No matter where you are, I’m going to keep you safe. Before and after this guy is caught, yeah?” His thumbs rub warmth into the exposed skin just below the hems of your sleeves on your upper arms, and you slowly relax into his grip, walls coming down. “Have I ever let you down before?”

“No.” You speak with confidence, and you can see the way Jimin’s eyes fill with warmth at the trust in your gaze.

“Then believe me when I say I’m not going to now.” He waits for you to nod before rubbing your arms gently and bending down to collect the strewn packets, and when he straightens he wraps his arm around your shoulders and guides you along into the kitchen. You let him sit you down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, and watch as he picks out a large mug for you.

“Since when do you keep peppermint tea on hand?” He turns just enough to give you a playful stink eye, before relaxing his expression into a gentle smile.

“Hoseok comes around at least once a week to do casework together and it’s the only thing he drinks; he’s not really a caffeine person.” Turning, he puts the boxes in front of you and gestures between them. “Which would you like?”

You finally start to relax around an hour later, one cup of tea down and the fresh refill warm in your hands as Jimin moves gently around the apartment, taking phone calls and typing away on his laptop as you quietly watch the tv. You won’t admit it, but you really spend way more time watching him than you do the movie that’s playing.

His aura still hasn't changed even after so many years, that same warmth and comforting softness that kept you feeling relaxed and safe for so long still on him like a blanket, and you even find yourself taking comfort in the natural scent of your surroundings. The blanket he’d wrapped you tight in smelled so strongly of his cologne you don’t doubt he’d slept here multiple times the past few weeks, and the pillow you lean down to rest your head on has the same sweet scent that grips you everytime he leans in to hold you tight.

The feeling of his presence is everywhere from the clutter of case files littering each surface, to the fine layer of dust you can smell from the way he’s always forgotten that dusting is a thing. He’s so completely himself, since forever, and the thought comforts you more that any weapon or security system ever could.

“Are you enjoying the movie? You can change it if you want, it’s just what was on.” You blink two or three times before you fully come to, and when you focus once more you find yourself looking straight at Jimin himself, noting the way his cheeks are bunched and his lips are pressed together as though he’s trying not to laugh. And you soon realise it’s because of how you’d been sat, staring hard at the side of his head with your mouth fallen open in concentration.

Jaw snapping shut hard enough to trigger a sharp ache in your teeth, you flush far redder than you care to admit as you jerk your head to the side and refocus on the screen. You have absolutely no clue what’s happening in the movie, but pretending is far better than having to admit to staring at Jimin so intently. “This is fine. It’s good.”

“Okay.” He nods, a smile still pulling at his cheeks, and for a moment he just watches you, enjoying the way your face stays heated under his watchful gaze. But then he recaptures your attention with a loud yawn, arching his chest out as he stretches, and when he refocuses on you his eyes are glassy with moisture, shining like crystals. “I’m probably going to have to get ready for bed soon. Do you want to have a shower?”

“I don’t have any clothes.” Jimin hums, thinking for a second, and you watch as he jumps up enthusiastically, feet scuffling on the carpet as he makes his way across the room, and you watch as he waddles endearingly through the door to the bedroom. You listen as the rumble of the closet doors sliding open sounds, and a slight scuffle before silence, and then Jimin reappears in the doorway, holding a surprisingly familiar item of clothing.

“Here! I found this a few months back in a box in the cupboard. I just kept forgetting to give it back to you.” Your chest bubbles with warmth while your stomach breaks out in butterflies, and you accept the hoodie he hands you with a shocked smile. It’s not yours, not really, but you’d stolen it so regularly it had become an unspoken rule that while he may have bought the hoodie, it was yours far more than his.

“I thought you’d kept it when I moved out.” Your fingers are playing with the softness of the fabric, and a slightly awkward silence falls over the both of you as he watches you roll the cloth between your fingers.

“It was your favourite, I would’ve let you keep it.” You look up at him then, catching something unidentifiable in his eyes before he blinked it away, and then you’re left looking at each other as your hands fall still in your lap. All until he clears his throat gruffly and shakes himself into composure, turning on his heel. “I’ll get you a towel and some pants.”

The walk to the bathroom is plagued with silence once Jimin disappears into his office, and you find yourself gazing out the large apartment windows as you walk across the living room. Your eyes dart from each inch of darkness outside to the next, fear in that now ever-present feeling of eyes on you unshakable, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly your heart beat speeds up. As do your feet as you rush into the bathroom and close the door with a heavy sigh.

You can't help but crank up the heat, steam floating from the tiles at the bottom of the shower to make a mist above your head, and your tense muscles seemingly melt once you step inside. The water burns a little against your tender eyes and dry cheeks, but your skin quickly adjusts as you tip your head forward under the stream, allowing the downpour to drip down your cheeks and off your chin. It’s a little hard to breathe in the thickness of the foggy cubicle, but you start to feel a little lighter once the tingling of heat takes your attention.

The bodywash you find in the shower caddy is the same it’s always been, and you find yourself guilty of holding the open top to your nose just a few seconds longer than should be deemed sensible, losing yourself further in the familiarity of Jimin’s signature scent. Bergamot and pine settle deep in your senses and a blanket of calm covers you, the smell only becoming more pungent as you massage the foam into the skin of your chest and arms. Jimin had always been a symbol of security in your life; safety, love and support, and you’ve never been able to kick that little habit of finding solace in the smallest signs of his presence.

And naturally this had meant that you’d lost your way every now and then after losing that source of comfort, no longer having someone to turn to when things get a little too tough or something goes bump in the night. You’d had to grow a lot since splitting with Jimin, and though now you’d like to consider yourself to be a relatively independent woman; able to pay her own bills, cook, clean and pave her own way in the world, you couldn’t help letting yourself be little selfish when faced with what you’d thought was lost forever.

By the time you’ve used his sweet orange shampoo and conditioner, and lathered yourself until no skin was visible, the entire room is swallowed in a cloudy haze, and your skin is bright pink from the rigorousness you’d scrubbed at yourself with. Stepping from the shower to wrap yourself in a towel, you find yourself cringing at how you instantly begin to sweat from the humidity, and immediately switch on the fan above you.

As the mist clears, so does the mirror, and you finally get a proper look at yourself. Your cheeks are shiny and raw, from fingers pressed a little too hard and the heat turned up just a little too hot, and your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, a clear sign of your exhaustion. It’s not even that late, only going on around eight o’clock, but your body aches with a heaviness that feels like you haven't slept in days, and as you pull the sweatpants up your tired legs, you groan at the way your back twinges in protest.

Foregoing your underwear and bra is surprisingly comfortable under the loose clothes, though you instantly burrow yourself into the hoodie once you step from the bathroom back into reality, arms crossed over your freed breasts and fingers tucked into your armpits to escape the slight chill of Jimin’s air conditioning. It’s like a habit, the way your eyes dart over to the windows again, but your heart calms at the sight of Jimin’s blinds drawn across the glass, hiding you from the outside world.

The man himself is sat in front of the tv, eyes heavy and starting to droop as he watches the program on screen sleepily. There’s a sandwich sat untouched on the coffee table, but the sight of an empty plate beside it leads you to believe he’s already had one himself, which leaves the only assumption to be that he’d made one for you. The thought of eating suddenly has your stomach groaning, and you pat it gently as you approach the lounge, finally catching Jimin’s attention.

“Hey, give me those.” He throws the blanket you’d seen earlier to the side off his lap and immediately reaches out for the clothes you have in your hands, your outfit from earlier. After a slight hesitation you hand them to him, trying not to think about the fact your bra and panties is so clearly at the top of the pile now in his hands. “I have a load of washing ready to be done so I’ll throw them in, okay? That sandwich is for you, you need to eat before bed.”

His no-nonsense attitude is comfortingly familiar as always, and you give his back a slight smile as you watch him disappear into the laundry, picking up your plate and taking a small bite before he reappears. It’s your favourite kind, and your heart flutters at the idea he’d remembered such a minor thing, but you know it’s silly to entertain such thoughts when you know you remember his too.

The tv is the only thing filling the silence as you eat, the two of you sat quietly side by side as a movie you don't recognize plays, and quicker than you thought you could manage, the sandwich is devoured and you’re brushing crumbs off your hands. The clang of your plate being placed on top of his shatters the silence, and Jimin jerks back awake from where he’d begun to doze off to automatically take the plates to the kitchen, but you scoop them up before he can beat you with a heavy feeling of guilt settling in your gut.

Jimin had done the morning shift, no doubt started work before the sun had risen, and yet he’d still hung around until he knew you’d clock off, and now stayed up to make sure you were safe and had eaten. Guilt starts to toxify, transforming into self-contempt, and you suddenly realise how much of a burden you’re becoming on him again.

Which only gets worse when he approaches you in the kitchen where you’re rinsing the plates in the sink and chewing on your lower lip, deep in thought. “I got the bed ready for you, so you can head in whenever you’d like.”

“What?” You frown, turning to him and furrowing your brows further at the sight of him rubbing at his puffy eyes.

“The bed? I–”

“Jimin, I’m not taking the bed from you.” This time he’s the one frowning, and you hug yourself as his lips settle in a slight pout. “It’s your apartment, I can’t take your–”

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it to you.” He sighs tiredly, and for a second his frustration is clear on his face before he rolls his shoulders with a grunt, joints clicking. “I don’t want you having a crappy nights’ sleep on the couch when I can give you the bedroom.”

“So you expect me to let you have a shitty sleep instead? Jimin you’ve been up since god knows when, I won’t just let you–” Your voice is getting higher in pitch, and you’re cut off when Jimin turns on his heel with a scoff and makes for the lounge. “–Hey!”

Petulantly, you run past him and clamber over the back of the futon, almost falling off in your daring attempt at beating him to the couch, and he stands frozen, gaping down at you from where he’s stopped mid step. You know it’s childish, but you can't help it, and when Jimin laughs incredulously and makes another move to grab you where you sit, you wrap yourself into the blanket and lie across the lounge, eyes closed.

“Are you joking?” Jimin’s voice is full of mirth, and when you peek one eye open to see him laughing silently, your own lips twist in amusement.

“Go to bed, J‘min.” Your voice is muffled by the blanket, but you know he can hear you, and through your one eye you watch as he stares down at you for a moment before shaking his head, and finally walking across the room to his bedroom, quietly muttering to himself with a smile.

In the midst of his absence, you finally notice how soft and comfortable the futon actually is, and the resistance to burrow down into the cushions and relax with your nose filled with Jimin’s scent embedded onto the blanket is futile. In fact, you relax so hard that you’re drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness faster than you’d realised was possible, and you get a small fright when something carefully rubs your shoulder.

“Hm-wha–?” Your voice cracks a little when you squint through the dimness of the room, but your body relaxes instantly when you recognize the figure standing over you, and Jimin smiles down at you gently as you finally spot the pillow and blanket in his hands.

His touch is even more gentle when he lifts under your neck to ease your head up, and you comply easily as the cool cotton of the pillowcase touches your skin. The comforter he places over you then is even nicer than the blanket he'd slipped from you, and you can instantly tell its the one off his bed. Had you been more lucid, you’d have argued against him giving you his personal bedding, but with the way your body is already sinking further into the cushions below, you can’t focus on anything further.

And just before you fully fall into unconsciousness, you feel a cool, gentle palm brush the hair off your cheek, along with the soothing timber of his voice as he mumbles to you good night.

__________

Every inch of your body is on fire as the fingers that are wrapped around your throat tighten. Every fibre of your being screaming for air as you struggle uselessly against the hold, and your fingers and toes start to tingle as your limbs go numb.

“I told you.” His voice sounds far away through the blood pumping through your ears, and as the rush of frozen air glides over your skin, you feel your body start to twitch and jerk. “You’re next. I told–I TOLD YOU.”

The sound that escapes your throat is dry and grating, and though your eyes burn you’re too numb to feel the tears pouring from them even as they drip from your chin. You gurgle and hack under his pulsating grip, and the sounds seem to make him even more enthusiastic, second hand coming up to loop his arm around your neck instead, and your heart starts to slow in your chest as his hand shifts to frame your jaw.

“_____.”

Your muscles shudder and shift, rolling across your bones as though no longer connected, ligament and tendon dissolved into your blood. And in the roaring silence, you realise you can breathe again, the hold on your throat gone, but your lungs are still empty as you whine and gasp.

“_____!”

You see him, stood in the doorway of your bedroom, faceless and shrouded in darkness, and your bones are heavy as lead, even as you try your hardest to hide under your comforter.

“P-Please, don’t!” You can feel the vibration of his footsteps as he steps closer, and your heart starts to beat in time with the thudding of your own feet as you’re suddenly running down a strangely familiar hallway. “H-Help me! Someone help!”

But no matter how hard you push your feet, the end of the hall seems to get further and further away, and the figure looming behind you gets closer…

“_____, open your eyes, sweetheart!” And closer...

“N-No!” Closer…

“Soon.”

__________

“Jimin!” The scream that rips from your throat tears a sharp aching pain down your chest, and suddenly you come to with your body drenched in sweat, face dripping with tears as you rub your sodden cheek against a firm, warm shoulder.

“I’m here, baby. I promise, I’m here.” Jimin’s scent engulfs you where your head is pressed into the curve of his neck, lean body leant half over you where you’re curled up on the futon in his apartment. And as each wave of recognition comes back to you, you sag into the security and comfort he personifies, and he merely holds you close as you sob into his skin.

“J-J’min–” Your legs tangle up in the blanket still caught around you in a small panic, and the moment you’re free from the restriction you half launch yourself into his lap, straddling the leg closest to you even as you drape sideways over his legs. And though he grunts slightly with the effort it takes to catch you, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you even closer, face pressed into your damp hair as he rocks you gently back and forth.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay–” The tenderness with which he tightens his grip and pulls the blanket back over your shaking form sends you through another wave of tears, and he gives a deep sigh as he hushes you again. He’s always been instinctively empathetic when it came to you, and seeing you so drowned in emotion is affecting him more than he wants to let on.

And god, do you miss him. It’s so easy to forget that missing presence when you willfully ignore it’s absence, but being so close to Jimin again...it’s not hard to remember all the reasons you loved him in the first place.

His bare skin is warm against your hands where their clutching at his biceps to keep him close, and for the first time you realise he’s shirtless, face weary with exhaustion with the way he’s been pulled from sleep lord only knows how long after finally settling in for the night, and another wave of guilt envelopes you. It’s a push in what can only be the right direction though, as you quickly swallow enough air to have your breathing back to a more normal rate, and your hands roughly swipe at the moisture on your face.

“Hey,” Jimin catches your hands as they rub the skin of your cheeks raw, and you feel even more pitiful as you blink down at him through the clumping wetness of your lashes. He sighs again, eyes warm and familiar even as they echo with the pain of seeing you in such a state, and your bottom lip wobbles pitifully before you nab it between your teeth. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. Nothing can happen to you here, okay?”

“Hho-okay.” You can’t help but hiccup a little as you finally start to really settle in his arms, and Jimin stays patient through each minute it takes you to relax again. His hand shifts from yours to settle between your shoulder blades, and you’re brought back to reality by the way the inside of his sweatshirt is starting to stick to your sweaty skin underneath. It’d been a while since you’d had such a strongly upsetting nightmare like that, and your body had surely taken the brunt of the toll. “S-Sorr–”

“Don’t apologise.” Jimin’s hand on your back pulls you close again, and you don’t think twice before nestling your face into his neck again as he gently rubs up and down the length of your spine. Your legs are bent relatively uncomfortably under you, and you finally shift up to relieve his thigh from the pressure of your weight on such an awkward angle.

And now you’re fully straddling his thigh, hovering half in the air so as not to settle your backside on his knee, and although your face is starting to burn from the emotions bubbling in your stomach, Jimin’s gaze stays neutral and concerned. But you can’t help the shyness building within you at the sight of his sculpted torso laid out so clearly in front of you, while you sit perched in his lap. And as much as you wanted to reach out and touch him the way you would have in the past, the ice cold water of reality washes down your back in the form of a whisper in the back of your mind that he’s not yours to touch anymore.

Jimin doesn’t stop you as you finally slip from his lap back onto the lounge beside him, but he does stay close, sliding over until your thighs are pressed together, and his eyes stay keen and alert as he searches your expression. “I’m okay, Jimin.”

“I know.” His eyes are warmed slightly as he curls the corner of his lips up into a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “My brave girl. You’ve always been able to overcome this.”

Your blush intensifies for reasons you’d rather not admit, a flutter in your stomach that seems to be specially reserved just for him, and you busy yourself with putting your pillow back into place from where you’d knocked it on the floor. But a gentle palm on your arm stops you, and when you look up Jimin shakes his head.

“Come to bed with me.” You stare at him, almost blankly, and your heart starts to speed up again in your chest. If Jimin recognizes how suggestive the words could be, he doesn’t let it show, choosing instead to swipe the pillow from your hands and hook the blanket over his shoulder, finally hiding some of his toned chest. It takes a few seconds for you to really respond to what he’s asking, but he doesn’t rush you, and when you finally stand he reaches out with a warm hand and laces his fingers with yours.

The steps you finally take into his bedroom is like a blast from the past, and with the way the left side of the bed is bare of pillows, you can instantly tell he still sleeps on the same side he used to. He makes his way to the bed instantly, patting your pillow into place and fluffing the comforter out until it covers the entirety of the bed, and when he turns back to you, you start to grow shy again.

You haven't shared a bed with anyone since the two of you split, and the thought of crawling back in beside him now after so long has a strange ache in your chest forming. If you were to focus on it long enough...you’d recognize it as longing.

“Don’t overthink this.” Jimin takes your stiff silence as discomfort, and he brings you back to the present once more as he slowly walks towards you. His torso is even more visible in the clearer light, warmed by the lamp lit up on his bedside table, and you almost feel the need to avert your eyes as he gets closer, regardless of having seen it all before. You think it’s in the certain way his sleep shorts hang off his hips, and the way the light bends and curves along the toned ridges of his stomach, but he in his entirety has always been a little overwhelming. He hasn’t changed in the few years you’d been apart, and almost regrettably you don’t doubt that you have.

“I-I’m not. I promise.” You nervously sweep the hair falling into your eyes back behind your ear, and his worried expression relaxes as you finally take the few steps towards the bed. He catches you before you can shift the blankets and climb onto the mattress though, a cool hand pressed to your cheek as he notices the way your baby hairs stick to the edges of your hairline.

“You’re warm. Would you rather a sleep shirt instead of the jumper?” At your nod he moves to the other side of the bed and digs through the bottom drawer of his nightstand until he produces a plain black shirt, and when you accept the fabric he holds towards you, he automatically spins on his heel and heads back out to the living area.

He’d remembered you were bare under the sweater, and you give a grateful smile to the empty room as you pull the slightly damp fabric over your head and let it fall off the edge of the bed beside you. The thin cotton of the new shirt is welcome on your humid skin, the cool freshness of the fabric soothing against the heat inside you, and by the time you’re finally slipping down under the covers, Jimin is walking back into the room and closing the door with a quiet click.

The soft padding of his feet against the carpet as he rounds the bed to his side brings contentment that only welcome company can bring, and you find yourself involuntarily nestling down into the bed even more. A gleam of metal shines in the corner of your eyes, something heavy being placed inside the top of his nightstand, and the both of you silently ignore the fact you’d just witnessed him returning his gun to it’s hiding place under a false base in the bottom of the drawer.

“Comfy?” He keeps his voice gentle, pushing the drawer closed smoothly, and you barely blink up at him before you nod your head. The last thing you see before he switches off the light is the sparkle of his eyes as he smiles down at you.

The mattress shifts slightly as he slides under the covers on his side, and the fresh scent of clean bedsheets and Jimin is a heady aroma of comfort when his movements fluff the blankets, and your eyes droop as the night starts to catch up with you once more.

Somewhere in the stillness of midnight, with your body half asleep and heavy, you manage to roll onto your side without thought and gently tuck your face between the softness of Jimin’s pillow and his shoulder. You’re too far gone to hear his soft noise of surprise, nor is it light enough in the room for you to have been able to see the gleam of his smile as he looks down at you. But one thing's for sure; when he rolls onto his own side and pulls your sleepy frame closer, pressing you into the warmth of his chest like you never left, you fall asleep faster than ever.

__________

Your rousing from sleep comes slowly, consciousness strengthening in waves as you gradually get back the movement in your body through the thick dregs of sleep that hold you tight, and once you can feel again you realise how warm your pillow is beneath your head. And only when you nuzzle down further into it and feel the slight pressure of a broad surface against your back do your eyes open to show you a long arm stretched out past your head and dangling off the edge of the bed.

A minute must pass before the night prior refreshes in your mind, and at a closer glance you recognize the rings adorning the fingers as they twitch slightly, and you already assume the sight before you when you shift and turn onto your back.

Jimin is still fast asleep where he’s been pressed against your back, shoulders and chest fluctuating with every breath as he sleeps restfully, and for a few moments you bask in the feeling of his closeness as he unconsciously uses the arm beneath your head to wrap around your back and pull you even closer. And now facing him on your right side, up close in this way you haven't been in so long, every minute detail of his features is more prominent than ever, and you simply lose yourself in his soft, relaxed expression.

You cannot pinpoint how long you stay lain against him, time ticking on without your attention, but when the pressing need for hunger becomes too hard to ignore, you find yourself struggling to climb from his embrace without rousing him. The sound of your feet against the carpet even seems too loud, and you chew on your lower lip when you freeze at a slight shift in his position, but when he gives a heavy sigh and starts to gently snore again, you continue on.

The sight of the city through the blinds when you open them just slightly is an almost dreary view, a haze of grey in the sky with only the slightest slivers of blue peeking through while a light cover of rain pitter-pats against the glass in front of you. It’s not very late in the morning, the sun not yet high enough to light up this side of the building like it had in the evening sunset last night, but the city below you waits for no one, and the bustle continues on through the early morning with cars beeping their horns and people crawling the streets.

Your stomach starts to growl as you set the coffee machine to brew, and when a quick glance into Jimin’s fridge shows nothing of much substance, you turn to the pantry instead and quickly choose a cereal before pouring two bowls. You time it well enough that you’re able to pour milk into your coffee just after your cereal, and as you settle at the counter, Jimin’s bedroom door creaks open just loud enough to catch your attention.

“Morning.” Jimin’s eyes are half open and his voice is little more than a croak, but you know your hair is just as crazy as his is.

“Hey.” He pads across the floor towards you and immediately heads to the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup quickly before settling beside you and tipping milk into his own cereal. For a few moments there’s nothing to be heard other than the scrape of cutlery on porcelain as you both eat in silence, but your mind is still racing with the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“How’d you sleep?” Jimin is far more alert when he finishes his breakfast, standing to take both your bowl and his own to the sink, and when he turns back to face you it takes you a few moments to compute that he’s really still half naked, not helped by the way he stretches his back and sweeps his fingers through his hair.

“Better. Thanks for...taking care of me. Last night.” He’s shaking his head before you finish your sentence, and you’d be rolling your eyes if you weren't being distracted by the way the muscles on his ribs curve and tense with his movements as he lifts his arms over his head to crack his back.

“Don’t need to thank me for that, _____. You know that.” He steps forward until he’s stood beside you, close enough you can feel the heat of his exposed skin, and you feel yourself swallow thickly. “I made arrangements yesterday when we got here. I hope you know I’m not taking any risks when it comes to your safety, especially not until this guy is caught.”

“What kind of arrangements?” You almost dread his answer, and you know he can tell by the way his face twists into a wistful smirk, but you maintain your worried expression. The last thing you want is for things to blow up and for word to get around in your apartment building that something is wrong. As far as you’re concerned the more low-key the better.

“Officers will be on hand around the clock–” you groan before you can help yourself, the dreaded image of personal bodyguards watching your every move becoming very real in your mind, but Jimin just rolls his eyes “–don’t start that. This is for your safety.”

“I know.” You would like to say you’re not whining, but lord knows even you can’t lie that well to yourself, and it’s making Jimin’s smile widen into a grin as he pinches your chin between thumb and forefinger.

“It’s nothing major, I promise. They’ll fit in to regular security and no one will even notice they’re there.” You slowly nodded in acquiescence, and Jimin continues to smile down at you gently. “Besides, this is the closest we’ve come to tracking this guy down, and I will stop at nothing to ensure your safety, you should know that.”

“I do.” You’re grumbling, but the pout of your lips causes his smile to widen, and he releases your chin to take a step back, oblique muscles rippling as he twists his spine with a low click.

“Yeah, I know.” You’re grumbling, but the pout of your lips causes his smile to widen, and he releases your chin to take a step back, oblique muscles rippling as he twists his spine with a low click.

"I'll go grab your clothes from the laundry, and then I've gotta head into work okay?" Jimin snags your empty bowl off the counter and spins to rinse it in the sink quickly. "The team Hoseok organised for your apartment building will be waiting for me to take you home and debrief them."

He turns back to find your lips pouting again, though more ironically this time as you try to ignore the way the hairs on your arms are starting to raise at the mere thought of going back to the apartment. Somewhere that had once felt like a safe haven, now ruined by the revelation of just how exposed your quiet little life has become.

"C'mon, pouty. Let's get ready for the day." He teases, pout of retaliation on full force enough to pull a genuine smile from you as he drags you from the counter.

__________

The next few days passes by slower than any you can remember, and as the morning blends into evening and the moon rises high into the night in a blur of shifting stars and muddy clouds, you almost lose your concept of time passing.

You've not left your apartment since Jimin brought you home, stuck in your fortress as you await the outcome of the past few days, body constantly locked tense and on alert at the mere hint of a noise outside your apartment door. And everytime your phone chimes with an alert, you're stuck dreading the idea it could be more bad news.

It's not until mid morning on the fourth day that you finally crack, the walls closing in on you the more time you spend between them, and you call it quits at the barren sight of your fridge bouncing off the back of your aching eyes. The migraine you'd woken up with intensifies as you prepare yourself to leave the apartment, only to be stopped short by a sharply dressed man holding his hand out between you and the door that exits onto the street.

"I'm sorry Miss, but I am unable to let you leave." You blink up at him, vaguely recognizing him from the group you'd been introduced to as your team of protectors, and he starts to shift awkwardly from toe to toe as your gaze unintentionally turns scathing. But you can't exactly help it, stomach growling from hunger and a painfully sharp stabbing along the base of your skull without rest. "D-Detective Park's orders, Miss."

"Well can I at least go to the corner store so I can eat something today?" He glances back awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers before finally dropping his blocking limb, and when you follow his gaze its to find yet another officer dressed quite casually behind the front desk. If you hadn't been clued in, you'd almost have thought him to be an unfamiliar member of the buildings' staff.

But his stiff posture and sharp gaze being concentrated on you gives him away easily, and by the way he seems to silently warn his partner with another sharp look and an almost imperceptible shake of his head, you can only imagine what Jimin must have used as an incentive for the two to stick to their task.

The man before you turns back around, meeting your tired look with a sheepish expression, and you need not stand there any longer to know you're not getting out of the building alone today.

Rightfully, you should be happy with the knowledge that the officers entrusted with your safety are taking their jobs seriously, but with your stomach grumbling and the thought of getting some good, oily takeout into your stomach from the restaurant just down the street, your acceptance for such a thing is dwindling by the second.

And so you dig your phone from your pocket, frowning at the low battery percentage flashing up at you as you dial, and you don't miss the almost fearful look the boy twists to give the other once more, ignoring them as the line rings.

It takes until almost the final ring for Jimin to answer, a few moments of white noise and muffled speaking before the click of a door shutting silences it and then Jimin's smooth voice is floating through the receiver.

"_____? Is everything okay?" He sounds worried, and you feel a twinge at the fact you're bothering him at work, but the burning need for freedom is hotter than the self disdain you're capable of feeling in the moment.

"I can't even leave my apartment building, Jimin. Are you serious?" You turn away from the officer in front of you to face the elevators you'd just come from, stepping a few paces as though you could get out of earshot in small area enclosing the three of you, and you all ignore the young boy that sometimes works the front desk when he passes by with a glance.

"_____–" Jimin starts with a sigh, a slap in the background that gives you the intense visual of him having thrown a folder down to pinch the bridge of his nose and you frown in response. "I told you what was happening, the perp could be anywhere–"

"So what I just get to sit and be miserable in my apartment while I wait for you to track him down? That could be weeks, Jimin!" He gives another sigh and you sniff, feeling the telltale moisture triggered by your frustration starting to tickle the back of your throat. "I just want to be able to at least live my life. Otherwise, all I can do is sit around and think about him... I don't want to think about him anymore, J'min."

"I know, swee–_____. I know. But I really think this is the safest option until we can organise something better–"

"I just want to go get some groceries, Jimin! Please? Just down the street, that's it!" You sniff again, just short of stomping your feet as you start to grow more flustered, cheeks burning as you speak lowly into the receiver.

"Don't cry, please." Jimin croaks, betraying his exhaustion, and it's muffled as though he's buried his face into his hands. "I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and this is the best way for me to ensure that. I can have one of the boys come and bring you something to eat until we can organise a shopping day."

"J'min, please?" You sound so small, and it only makes it harder for him to say–

"I'm sorry." The gentle beep is far too sharp in Jimin's ear with the way his head is starting to ache, and he stares at the 'Call: Ended' screen until it disappears and the display goes black.

You don't offer the officers in the lobby a second glance, beelining back for the elevator with your head tilted forward far enough to hide your burning cheeks and wet eyelashes from anyone nearby. The ding echoes extra loud as the doors open upon your request, and you bury yourself in the corner with a pitiful sniffle as you complain to yourself quietly, tone akin to that of a child being refused by it's mother to buy candy.

Pushing yourself off the wall with a grunt when the elevator gets back to your floor, you almost stumble over the threshold onto the carpeted hallway. And you only grow more flustered when on approaching your door, they key to your apartment slips out of your fingers and slides precariously close to the slight gap at the very bottom.

Choking on an alarmed gasp, you immediately drop down onto one knee to retrieve it, but as you go to straighten up, there is a metallic shriek at the end of the hall that makes you freeze in fear, eyes flickering up to see the exit door leading to the stairwell. But...for some reason, it almost looks like its...propped open.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up with the instant electricity that runs across your skin, and you nearly drop your key once more as your fingers start to tremble. Staring hard, you ignore the ache in the backs of your eyes as you catch the gap between the door and the wall widen only just enough to be noticeable while you're watching, as though someone had let the door swing shut too fast and was...checking to see if you'd noticed.

But the stairwell is dark compared to the bright hallway, only ever used by maintenance workers and on the rare occasion the elevator is unavailable, and even as you stay unblinking, you cannot discern whether it's the natural shadow of the room beyond the gap...or if that's the silhouette of a person trying very hard to not be seen.

Sweat breaks out across your temples and upper lip, muscles locking up as your fight or flight instincts scream at you to run, and just as the gap wavers again, and you feel the terror start to clog up your throat, your shoulder is grabbed by a large, warm hand.

"_____–ahh!" Taehyung himself yells in shock as you slap his hand away with a horrified shriek, knocking something large and dark out of his hand and distantly hearing it hit the wall next to Taehyung's own apartment door. Holding his reddening hand to his chest, he watches you throw yourself to the side and press your back tight to the wall. And there's a few tense moments of silence as the two of you merely stay frozen, carefully watching the other.

"S-sorry." You break through the tense atmosphere quietly, relaxing slowly against the wall as Taehyung eyes you carefully for a moment before gradually crouching down a few feet from you. And you don't blame his hesitance, positive he's waiting for you to lash out and slap him again, but you merely chew on your lower lip as he frowns down at you.

"Did I give you a fright?" At your nod, he wraps his arms around his knees carefully, fully squatting down in front of you now. "I'm sorry, I was worried something was wrong, you were all hunched over staring into the corner."

"I, uh," you glance back towards the stairwell exit doorway, finding the door as it is usually - closed and flush to the frame, and instantly think better than to admit your crazy sounding reality. "I dropped my key, was just trying to spot it on the floor and got, um, distracted."

Waving said item around in the air, you quickly push yourself back up onto your feet even as your legs shake a little more than you'd like from the fear, and the added pressure of being crouched so awkwardly for longer than you'd initially thought. Taehyung stands as you do, grunting a little as one of his knees clicks quietly back into place, and before you can ask what he'd been out here for, he retrieves his lost item from the floor a few feet away.

"I was just coming over to give you this back. The roof's officially fixed now, maintenance guy just left, no more mini indoor swimming pool!" In his hands is the bucket you'd lent him almost two weeks ago, still in perfect condition, and you hope he doesn't notice the way your hand shakes as you reach out to accept it, gaze lingering on the tightly shut door at the end of the hall.

“What a shame!” Distantly, you wonder if he notices how fake your smile and laughter is.

__________

Squinting, you watch for a few seconds through the peephole as Jimin looks down at his feet, running the fingers of his right hand through the tousled strands of hair falling over his forehead while the plastic of the bag of takeaway in his hand crinkles quietly.

"Hey." He greets you quietly when you open the door, and you mumble the same back to him as he shuffles closer to the doorframe, the bag sounding again as he fidgets with the handles in his palm. "I brought your favourite."

Jimin lifts the bag up to his waist with a lopsided smile as though you hadn't already noticed it in his hand, and you let the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you step back to make space for his entry. He beelines straight for the kitchen, and the sound of your door beeping shut is loud in the quiet that sits between the two of you. The sound of plates being set onto the counter is even louder when you pull them from the cupboard, and the two of you dish up the dinner he'd brought in silence.

The tv fills the quiet as the two of you sit and start to eat, you on the lounge with your legs tucked beneath you and a pillow over your thighs balancing your plate, while Jimin settles on the floor, using the glass coffee table while the necklace he wears tinkles against the edge every now and then.

It would be a lie to say that the lack of conversation isn't at least a little bit awkward, and you're finally finished hyping yourself up to say something, apologise to Jimin, just do anything to fix the painfully tense silence, when Jimin finally speaks again.

"I'm sorry I was so inconsiderate of your boundaries. I should know better than to think you'd be comfortable being locked away like this, that wasn't respectful of your independence." You're already looking at him when he turns to meet your eyes, and your lips press together to hide the embarrassing surprised gape of your mouth.

He twists further to fully face you, pushing his empty plate away, and you drop your gaze to the scraps of food left on your own plate, pushing them around slowly with your chopsticks. You can feel your cheeks heating with an embarrassed flush as your throat closes up on the reprimand you want to give him. It's not his fault, not at all.

"I know," You jump a little in your seat at the feeling of the back of his hand brushing up against the side of your knee, and the blush intensifies. "I know I have the tendency to take things like this a little too far. But it's because I couldn't bear it if something were to happen to you, when I could be there to stop it."

"J'min." You can feel the stress of the day, the week and the month amounting together as the back of your throat gets a little more tight, and the inner corners of your eyes start to feel a little more wet. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I acted like such a child this morning."

"You didn't, _____–"

"Yes, I did. And I should know better than anyone that you're just looking out for me." Jimin immediately moves up onto the lounge as your tone gets a little thinner, and you don't stop him when he moves the plate off of your lap onto the coffee table, leaving the pillow in your lap for your fingers to dig into the fraying decorations around the edges. "I was, I was really rude. I'm r-really sorry."

The sting of your teeth splitting into the chapped skin of your lower lip is the only thing holding in the sobs as your embarrassment over your earlier petulance combines with the stress and loneliness of the past few days. The saltiness of tears mixes with the iron tang of blood on your tongue as they slowly track down your cheeks and over your lips, and your frustration surmounts at the fact that you're even crying, because you're stronger than this, truly, but–

"It's so hard." Jimin is close enough for the warmth of his body to radiate onto your skin, and when you tilt your chin down to hide your blotchy, wet face he leans in a little closer to keep his eyes on your pink nose. "This position you've been forced into, it really is. And I don't blame you in the slightest for getting frustrated at me. Hell, I would be frustrated too, you know that."

His fingertips are so very warm when they graze across your damp cheek in an attempt to brush your hair back behind your ear, and you can feel a couple strands stick to the moisture before his thumb swipes them back. His hand doesn't move from there though, the digit continuing it's path across your cheekbone before landing on your right ear, and your body feels the urge to shudder when he massages the lobe gently between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.

Your neck loosens up instantly, head dropping a little into his palm as he continues the motion, and you don't fail to notice the soft smile that breaks across his cheeks, an old, gentle, familiar warmth in his eyes that you can't help but start to lose yourself in. Distantly, you notice the tears slowing until they're little more than a dryness under your eyes, which grow heavier with each circle of his thumb on your ear.

"You've been so strong, but it's okay to be a little bit scared sometimes, baby."

Seconds tick by in silence, nothing but the sound of the two of you breathing the same air as you both sit as still as can be. Your bent legs had at some point dropped to the side to rest against the thickness of Jimin's thigh and you'd relaxed far enough into the offered warmth of his embrace that your side is now pressed against him.

Slowly, desperate not break the moment, Jimin lifts his free hand to cup the other side of your jaw, and you find it a little hard to breathe as his face gets even closer to yours, the light from the lamp beside you shining on the pretty curve of his cheekbone and illuminating the deep v of his cupids bow dimpling his upper lip.

You'd spent more nights than you could remember, imagining what it would be like to press your lips to his just one more time. And to come so close in this moment, with the still very possible chance that you still wouldn't get to feel the plush softness of them again, well; if you weren't crying before, you certainly might after–

Jimin's lips brush over yours softer than a rose petal could be brushed by the wind, and your fingers instantly clutch at whatever available fabric they can grip between the buttons lining his sternum. The hand he'd been gripping the soft flesh of your earlobe with drops and catches your fingers in his as they tremble against his chest, and for a few seconds his digits merely play with yours as he waits for you to react.

You surge up against him with a muffled gasp, lips overshooting and pressing to the corner of his mouth before he tilts his head and rights you with a gentle tug against your chin. He doesn't waver, strong and balanced even as you press yourself against him, and all at once the taste of lips is turning salty again as tears start to fall uncontrollably from your eyes to wet both your cheeks and his.

He doesn't let you rush the kiss, controlling the pace with firm, guiding presses of his lips, and you fall into speed with him as he slowly tilts you back against the couch with a gentle sigh through his nose that tickles your cheek. Jimin releases your hand that he'd braced against his chest to cup the other side of your jaw once again, and when your head meets the back of the lounge finally, he lets the warm digits stroke gently down the sides of your neck until his pinky fingers rest in the divots of your collarbones.

You can't breathe, lungs malfunctioning in the ecstasy that Jimin has so effortlessly injected directly into your bloodstream, and just as you're starting to go lightheaded, there's a low buzz that vibrates dully against the underside of your legs. And for a few silent moments you ignore it, sucking on the plump flesh of Jimin's lower lip and feeling the way he instantly goes to chase your own with his teeth out of habit.

But then his hand drops to his side and jerks against his hip until the vibrating device is free of the fabric of his slacks, and he barely glances at the screen as he pulls his lips from yours with a quiet groan, forehead landing on yours gently.

You're almost embarrassed to note how heavy you're breathing, let alone how tightly your leg had slipped up around Jimin's hip in the few seconds you'd been tangled together, and when you turn your head to the side so as not to breath directly against the receiver, he presses his nose into the soft fleshy part of your cheek.

"Park, speaking." He stops breathing to swallow, holding in the panting breath he wants to take but unable to hide the powerful hammering of his heart where its pressed to yours. You can hear the faintest of conversation on the other end of the line, letting Jimin nuzzle his nose against your cheek while your lashes flutter, and he hums every now and then in agreement or to show he's listening to the person on the line. "Okay, yes. I'll be in soon."

The disappointment must be clear on your face as he hangs up the phone and sits back in his original seat once more, wide smile spreading across his face as he slips the device back in his pocket and stands.

"I've been summoned, sweetheart." He bends just far enough to catch your hand in his, tugging on the limb until you put your shaky legs beneath you and push yourself up to standing just to be close to him once again. Jimin holds your hand all the way up until he reaches the door, thumb running back and forth across your knuckles gently, and you feel your stomach flutter like butterfly wings trapped in a glass jar even as your heart aches to see him leave again so suddenly.

"I'll...I'll see you, tomorrow?" He turns to face you again, car keys tinkling in his hand as he pulls them from his pocket, and he nods gently with another smile. A few seconds pass between you, your hands still in his but the rest of your body stiff with insecurity on how to approach this situation. But Jimin beats you to the punch, leaning down and pressing his lips ever so softly against the corner of your mouth for just long enough to have you melt against him, and stumble when he finally pulls back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he confirms, stroking from your hand up your arm and then back down again until he can tickle his fingers against the palm of your hand one last time before turning and unlocking the door. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

"I will." You call to him as he begins making his way down the hall, unable to help yourself as you lean against the doorframe in order to watch his departure. And not even the bright grin he gives you as he turns around in the elevator is enough to deter you, only the sight of the metal doors reflecting with a hazy blur finally sending you back into your apartment with a gentle sigh.

__________

The sound of crinkling plastic bags is loud when you duck your head through the back door of Jimin's car, reaching as far as you can to retrieve the groceries pushed further across the seat with a groan. But you don't get very far before the door on the other side is clicking open, the view of Jimin's shiny belt buckle burning bright in front of your eyes before he leans down himself and starts to group a bunch of bags on his hands.

He doesn't seem to notice the way your cheeks instantly began to burn, only glancing up at you when you stop moving with a curious gaze, and you quickly move to grab the rest of your things and step back out of the car before he catches on. It's a little hard to close the door with your hand, given how many bag handles you've managed to squeeze into your grip, but within seconds Jimin is by your side, pushing the door shut with his free hand before quickly snagging a few bags from yours despite your quiet refusal.

The mood during your quiet afternoon of shopping had been...good. Neither of you had mentioned the kiss last night, nor had Jimin instigated a second embrace between the two of you, and it had come to the point of you wondering whether it was ever going to be acknowledged.

When thinking back on it last night after he'd left, you could only truly hope that such a thing would not impact his interactions with you negatively, unable to bear the idea that he could draw back from you at such a point within which you needed his companionship and support more than ever. But as one could only expect Jimin sensed your insecurity upon arriving at your apartment that morning faster than you might've hoped, and seemed to silently reassure you with a gentle touch to your arm when helping you into his car.

And even now he's more than happy to urge you closer to his side when another tenant steps on behind the two of you in the elevator, stepping forward to press the door close button and effectively blocking the space between you and the young man with effortless ease. It's almost awkwardly silent in the metal box, the whirring of the machinery operating the contraption broken apart only by the light crinkling of the bags in your hands and the gentle tap of a foot every now and then.

You unintentionally meet the gaze of the young stranger a few times, catching his eyes as he periodically lifts his eyes from his shoes to flit between Jimin and yourself. There's something about him, the almost bright shine of his eyes contrasting strangely with his hard set jaw, and for a few beats he returns your stare, eyes dark and almost...empty, when he glances at the back of Jimin’s head.

And you know his face, you could swear it. You feel as though you've seen him somewhere before, only...younger. Maybe? His name flickers like a dying torch in your mind, sat right on the tip of your tongue as you forget general decency and hold his stare for what is quickly growing longer than what most would deem appropriate. You could swear you know it, something familiar, something easy to remember, something that quickly starts to form on your tongue as–

"J–"

Ding!

The elevator doors open, and the stranger drops your eyes to quickly rush out into the open hallway, making a beeline for the end as you blink the dryness from your eyes and watch as his retreating back is slowly covered by the silver metal of the doors once more, and you're broken from the moment completely by Jimin's arm gently nudging your own.

"You okay?" He doesn't seem to notice the way you've followed the boy with your eyes so intently, only having his attention caught by the stuttered noise you'd made as he leans over to close the doors again, and you nod distractedly. The thought from before is gone, mind empty once more without the visual of his face to look upon for familiarity, and you feel almost numb once again as the doors open on your floor and Jimin regathers the bags he'd set down and lifts them with a small grunt.

The two of you file out of the elevator in silence, footfalls echoing off the walls as you approach your apartment, and Jimin lags behind you in order to leave you space to unlock the door, and you struggle for a few moments to balance the bags in one hand. You're about to set them down with a cuss of frustration when the door of the apartment beside yours with a chime and Taehyung steps out.

You don't exactly know why you pause, perhaps just the habit of greeting him each time you pass, but you inadvertently wait for him to turn and finally notice you before you speak.

"Hey, Tae." A wide smile automatically spreads across his lips, and he steps closer to you quickly and moves to pull the shopping bags out of your hands. You fluster for a moment, holding onto the handles tightly before conceding and letting him hold them, and for a few seconds you stand there blankly before remembering yourself and turning to look back at Jimin as your hand fishes the key card out of your purse.

Dark. His eyes are glaring daggers into Taehyung even as the other boy fails to notice him right away, and the movement of your head pulls his attention just in time as Taehyung finally glances up and instantly stiffens. "Hey, how are yo–Oh."

"Hello." Jimin thankfully relaxes his face into a more neutral expression, but you know him too well to not catch the tick of his jaw and the strain in his neck as he automatically stretches his shoulders out and straightens his spine in an attempt to make himself seem bigger.

"Hi." Taehyung is no better, lifting his chin and looking down his nose to emphasise how much taller he is than Jimin. And though it's only a few inches, you can see the way Jimin's nostrils flare in retaliation, eyes flashing, and you look between the two for a few silent moments with your hand hovering in mid air.

"Uh..." The two take absolutely no notice of your head turning back and forth to look between them and you finally end up swiping your key card with a sigh, letting the chime of your security system break the tension. One last glance back as you cross the threshold into your apartment at the two has you watching the standoff as they vie for the position of last to enter the apartment, and you roll your eyes as neither of them move an inch.

Something seems to finally break the air, perhaps the silent, worried frustration rolling off you in waves, and Taehyung turns to return your gaze as he comes to his senses and steps into your apartment. Jimin watches him carefully as he crosses the room and sets your groceries onto the kitchen island, following him inside a few seconds later with his gaze hard and calculating.

"So..." You can't seem to think of anything to say, standing stiffly at your kitchen counter as Taehyung and Jimin continue to glance at each other in tandem, and after watching them awkwardly, you grasp at frayed strings in an attempt to break the heavy mood settling over your apartment.

You've dealt with enough drama lately, and you'd really rather not have this add onto your ever growing mountain of stress.

"What are you getting up to today?" Taehyung turns to look at you, blinking slowly as he doesn't seem to fully realise you're talking to him, before jerking slightly and stammering for a response.

"Uh, just about to head off to work, actually." You then realise the uniform shirt under his dark suede jacket, and as you nod with a quiet 'ah' of realisation, his eyes flicker between you and Jimin once more. "What have...you guys been up to. You're not at work like normal?"

"Oh, I've...had a few days off, ha. Just been...relaxing, and stuff." Taehyung's eyebrows almost disappear under the hair covering his forehead, and you barely seem to hide your cringe as he chuckles in surprise.

"You've got to be one of the most consistently working people I've ever met. Never heard of you taking time off work before." He chances a glance at Jimin, and you follow him to see Jimin still standing stoic at the end of the breakfast bar, only looking back at your neighbour when he speaks again. "Is everything...okay? I know sometimes you've mentioned things getting a bit too rough, has that happened again? Are you having those nightmares again?"

"Oh, I–" You look back at Jimin in shock at Taehyung's words, surprised at the fact he'd remembered something you'd only have mentioned in passing, and you chew on your lower lip as Jimin's chin drops to have him aggressively shoot laser beams at the bag in front of him, jaw clenched. "No. No, I've been okay."

"Are you sure? You've been really quiet the past few days, and don't think I don't notice the bags under your eyes. You really do look tired, _____." He frowns, head tilting to the side as he leans slightly towards you over the breakfast bar, and though he's a good almost two metres away, it's habit that has you leaning away a little. "Does the fact you're not going to work have anything to do with the undercover police your friend here has downstairs?"

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. "Taehyung–"

"That's a matter well out of your jurisdiction." Jimin's tone almost has shivers running up your spine. It's a bass monotone that slides over your skin like thorns on a flowerless rose bush, prickling at every pore until your flesh is crawling with invisible bugs, regardless of the fact you're not technically on the receiving end. "I can assure you, this matter is of no importance to the likes of you."

Taehyung's own eyes flare with a spark that you've never seen before, and to watch as the usually brightly smiling boy's gaze turns into that akin of a snake preparing to strike, your body starts to grow cold.

"I live in this building too." He looks down his nose at Jimin again, and you can see Jimin's fist ball up under the cover of the counter where Taehyung cannot see. "I don't think it is up to you to decide what is, and what is not my business in regards to my home, and my friend."

"I–" The two boys blatantly ignore you, and you step forward slightly.

"I have a badge in my pocket that I'm fairly sure gives me every right to deem what is and isn't your business in regards to events that involve law enforcement." Jimin's had shifts to touch said pocket gently, and it's then you notice the holster on his hip and the shining handcuffs tucked in beside his firearm. "And if you forget that I'm happy to remind you."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Your eyes flicker back to watch Taehyung as he leans back again, crossing his arms and pushing his shoulders back to emphasise how broad he is, and for a few short moments you half expect the two men to rip off their shirts and start wrestling like a pair of gorillas. "I've heard enough about you to know how important your badge is–"

"Okay!" You finally crack, no longer comfortable being a bystander in your own kitchen as the two become more intent on working the other up, and then they finally turn to look at you. Their eyes are still echoing the thunderous moods lying within, and you feel unsteady on your feet as you attempt to find a common ground in order to alleviate the situation. Or rather, a common ground between the two men who seem to be waiting for your decision on who should stay and who should go.

Jimin watches you carefully, eyes flickering between you and the other male as the heat within his eyes starts to diminish and an almost worried, apologetic expression starts to form on his face. And though you know there is every reason to be just as frustrated at his attitude as you are at Taehyungs, the idea of watching him walk out of your apartment has you aching in your chest. "I think it's time I unpack this food and Tae...I'd hate for you to be late to work, I think you should...go."

He blinks at you for a few seconds, eyes growing cold as he almost waits for you to turn and address the male opposite him, but at the following silence he seems to understand Jimin is the one you're inviting to stay, and his crooked smile turns bittersweet.

"You're right, I should go." Your teeth find your bottom lip as he trades one ore glare with Jimin before quickly turning on his heel and marching towards your door faster than you can catch up with, and you find you almost have to jog to beat the door clicking shut again as he slips through it smoothly.

"H-Have a good night at work-–oh!" You call to him as you catch the door and peek out of the gap, almost jerking back with a gasp as you come face to face with him quite suddenly. He's come to a short stop just outside the threshold of your apartment, and you're only centimetres from having run into him.

Silently, he turns and looks down at you, eyes wistful as he glances back behind you into your apartment and then back again, and the tension that lingers cold in the air is a clear sign Jimin is unmoving, watching the two of you very closely. Wordlessly, Taehyung lifts a hand into the air, letting it hover between you as he seems to consider very carefully his own actions, before dropping it back to his side with a sigh, and you feel your brows draw together in a frown, heart strings tugging at the sadness in his eyes.

You never meant for this to happen, never wanted to be put into this situation where you'd have to choose between them s irrevocably. But the world has a very cruel way of bringing you back down to earth right when you think you're getting lucky.

"See you around, _____." He takes a step, just out of Jimin's line of sight, but keeps his eyes on you for another painful moment. But then he's turning again, and before you know it he's down the hall and disappearing into the elevator, gone in mere seconds.

When you finally close the door and turn back to face Jimin, he's already rustling amongst the various bags covering the counter, pulling the items free and placing them neatly on the bench for you to sort and put away, and you almost feel numb as you cross the space between you and start to gather the cold foods into your hands. A few minutes pass this way, you sorting the foodstuffs between the fridge and the pantry, walking back and forth the space as Jimin finishes emptying bags, and when he's finally done he leans against the counter with a sigh and turns to watch you.

"I'm sorry." You blink at him in surprise, almost dropping the packet of sugar in your hands as you watch him frown down at his feet before pushing off the counter to approach you. "That was unnecessary and...immature. There was no reason to treat your friend that way."

"Jimin..." You sigh, lifting the packet up and putting it on one of the higher shelves before letting the pantry door close with a muted thud. "It doesn't matter now. Besides..." you turn to him, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the wood, "you didn't do it on your own."

He's quiet for a few moments, watching you as you frown a little harder with your eyes on the front door before you finally look at him. And when he speaks again his tone is a lot lower, an unspoken emotion that you can't quite pick colouring it in a way that makes him sounds almost a little sad. "He likes you."

"Does he?" There's no real question in your voice, far closer to a statement, and it makes Jimin wince.

"It's selfish of me to act upon jealousy that I have no right to exercise." You feel a twinge of heartache at his words, unsure of what exactly he's trying to imply, and you can feel it reflected in your expression. "He could make you happy."

"Jimin–" You're reaching out to him, hand catching his as you step into his space, chest tight with the need to hold him, reassure him and keep him close.

But you don't get close enough before he jerks back and pulls away from you, hand torn from yours as he turns to seek the phone on the counter that has started to ring obnoxiously loud, and he answers the call with a few taps on the screen, background noise filling the air as he switches it to loudspeaker.

"This is Park."

"Jimin." You've come to recognise the sound of Detective Jung's voice easily, and the breathless way he calls his name instantly has you on edge. "There's been another find. Two this time, fucked up real bad compared to the others. But the sick fuck seems to be getting sloppy, there's a bit more cctv in this building and the surrounds. I'm organising that to be reviewed for any clues now."

"You're on loudspeaker. Where?" Jimin doesn't look at you as you instantly draw closer, furrowed eyes set on his phone as he picks up the device and awaits his partners information, but he does lift on hand to place on your arm, keeping you at a distance as well as maintaining gentle contact in order to keep you calm.

"Three blocks out." Three blocks? From where? Your blood runs cold through your veins, and you stiffen instantly.

You open your mouth to question him, but Jimin beats you to the punch, fingers twitching on your arm as he fights the urge to pull you closer at your physical shudder of fear.

"You're on scene?" His jaw ticks as he pats his pockets, checking his belongings, and you start to grow nervous at the realisation he's preparing to leave you already upon his partners affirmation. "I can be there in five."

"That's not all." Your eyes are wide as you set them back on the phone, and Jimin freezes in place as he awaits the next few words just as tensely as you. "He's left us a message this time. Real loud and clear."

"What is it?" You speak up this time, and it takes Hoseok a few seconds to reply, more than likely unsure if he should respond to you, but when Jimin calls his name as consent for him to tell you, he gives a sigh that comes through painfully loud in the speaker.

"Blood. On the walls. Says..." He pauses, a rustle and a few footsteps breaking the silence as he seems to move about before coming to a pause. "Says, you're next, 'Min. He wants you to leave her alone, or he'll 'take matters into his own hands'."

"Not if I take them into my own first." Jimin quickly turns furious, eyes alight with it when he sets them on you, and within seconds he's ripped the phone off the counter and pulled it up to his ear. "See you in five."

"J'min–" He hangs up the call and quickly pulls you close, no sign of his earlier guilt over his selfishness as he takes a hold of your face and presses his lips tightly to yours.

You don't realise how quickly you're breathing, gasping in panic as the familiar terror starts to set in again, but your lungs quickly start to burn as he takes away your source of air with a searing kiss. He doesn't move his lips, doesn't try to deepen it nor does he let you do so. Jimin merely holds his plush lips to yours until you're both red in the cheeks and gasping for air when he pulls away, and he rests his forehead against yours while you clutch at his shoulders to keep him close.

"Nothing he will ever do or say will keep me away from you, do you understand me?" You're blubbering, eyes starting to bud with moisture and throat thick with emotion as you let your eyes fall closed. "I don't care what length's he goes to. He's never going to keep you away from me, baby."

"You're gonna g-get hurt, J'min." You're sagging against him, body weight pulling him down as you try to keep him close just a little longer, but as you grow a little too weak in the knees, he reaches down and hooks an arm under your legs, pulling you up and into his arms before crossing the room and setting you down on the lounge gently. "P-Please, I don't–I can't let you get hurt because of me."

"Don't you dare ask that of me." He cups your face with both hands as you try to turn and bury your wet cheeks into the pillow beside you, and you blink up at him slowly, vision still blurry with tears regardless of how much are falling from your chin. "Don't you dare."

It's your forehead his lips find this time, brushing against the skin before pressing once, twice, three times, and then he rests his head onto yours and holds you tight as you shake against him.

"I have to go." The pain is clear in his eyes as your sobs grow even louder, echoing in the silence of your apartment without the tv or pillow to muffle it, but you know that he's right. And so you pull yourself together a little, dialling your cries down into sniffles as he caresses your cheeks one last time before standing from the couch and leaning down one last time to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'll come back in a few hours okay? I'll come back to you baby, it'll all be okay."

At your nod, he finally makes his way from your apartment, sadness in his gaze as he looks over your puffy eyes and pink cheeks one last time before disappearing through the door with the chime of the security system activating. And you find yourself so numb with the fear that you could truly never see him again, that you're unable to move from the spot you've curled up in, and within the hour your fear has drained you of all energy, and your eyes grow too heavy to keep open as the sun quickly sets.

You awaken with a jerk however, into the pitch black darkness of your apartment. The blinds had still been closed that afternoon, stopping the beaming bright afternoon sun, and leaving your living room darker than midnight as the lights of the city were completely blocked out. It takes you a few seconds to realise what it was that had ripped you from sleep, the silence keeping you confused as you numbly wonder if you'd been having a nightmare, but then you hear it again, the chime of your front door as the wood clicks closed, and your security system re-activates.

Warm grows in your chest at Jimin's return, and you stretch out your legs from where they'd been tucked up close to your body as you await the call of your name or perhaps the familiar clicking of his shoes as he crosses your entryway to return to where he'd left you.

But like the night shadows drown the sun's light, the warmth quickly freezes over into chilling terror as a dark silhouette moves across the room silently, not a sound following his gentle footsteps as he passes you between you and the only light in the room. The blue glow of the charger dock sitting on the table against the far wall casting an eerie glow over his form, and just as terrifyingly outlining the fact that his height is a good head taller, and his shoulders are a decent few inches wider than they should be.

And as he makes his way far to confidently towards the hallway leading to your room, and that eerie blue light glints off a large silver shape in his hand, you come to the tearful conclusion that you're right.

Jimin did not just enter your apartment.

And you have no idea who did.

[allfandomxreader]

After Dust Settles

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: As a teenager, you never could’ve imagined the life you and Steve would share together. 

Warnings: Language, minor blood and anxiety mention, but I think that’s it

Words: 2.1k

A/N: So this could either be a one shot or if you guys like it I could make it into a mini series, let me know if you'd like me to continue it!! Not my gif!

Masterlist

Cold tile was pressed against your cheek. Steve murmured somewhere next to you in and out of conscious from his drugged state. You desperately wanted to reach for him, to hold his hand, to escape. God, you really wanted to escape.

When the Russians returned, they yanked your fallen bodies from the floor, asking once again “Who do you work for?” for the thousandth time. You couldn’t answer, your eyes fixated on the blood smears where Steve laid just moments ago. You’ve survived the Demogorgon and even his army of dogs, but you were going to die in a secret fortress beneath your part time job. It was almost comical.

The doctor, which by now you’ve decided wasn’t an actual doctor, reached for tools on a metal try. The scraping of metal sent chills down your spine, his footsteps that grew louder as he reached for Steve’s hand didn’t help either. The boy pressed against your back squirmed to get away from his grip, it was only then did you scream about the code.

The Mind Flayer roars, his hands swarmed around the open area trying to capture anything that dared to move. Your eyes were trained to the floor, trying your hardest not to stare at the creature that stood only a few yards away. You can’t hear anything, not Steve who tried to snap you out of your daze, not Robin who demanded answers to questions you couldn’t quite answer, even the fireworks sounded like they were miles away.

You needed to breathe. Air. You needed air.

It’s been years since the supernatural had left Hawkins, the small town is now deemed safe. There aren’t any more Russians, no sign of monsters, all the fighting ceased after Starcourt. Dust that the lab and the Upside Down kicked up has since settled.

It had been ages since you’ve woken up gasping, hands trembling, and coated with sweat. Nightmares haven’t been so common lately, you almost forgot they existed. Almost.

On any given morning, you’d reach for Steve. Usually, he’d still be sleeping, his lips always parted, his hair messy and fanning the pillow beneath him. Today however, the spot beside you is abandoned by Steve and stolen by four paws and a wagging tail. You smile at Grover, gently running your hand along his spine as his tail thumps softly against the mattress, eyes pleading to stay in bed just a second longer.

Steve would flip if he saw the sight, complaining for days about shedding and muddy paws. The beagle knows he’s not allowed in bed. Steve drilled that memo in his head the second he sprinted through the door, sniffing all his new surroundings. It only took him a few nights to understand the concept. But you let it slide, just this once.

It took only a moment to regain your bearings and be brought back to reality. The room around you is dark despite sunlight trying to invade the room behind closed curtains. Pictures hang neatly on the walls, a pile of Steve’s clothes in the corner, two stray cups litter the bedside table. You are home. You are safe.

Sighing, you pull yourself out of bed and into the kitchen, Grover’s muffled footsteps trailing behind you. The house is oddly silent, Steve clearly isn’t home, the note on the fridge only confirms it. “Store run, be home soon -S”

There couldn’t possibly be anything either of you needed for the day, grocery shopping has always been a Sunday errand. You haven’t even made the list yet, there’s no telling what that clueless man will bring back.

It’s Saturday, the day reserved for sleeping in and movie marathons with your husband. Saturday isn’t a day for waking up alone, weekdays are. Well, not for you, your job demands early mornings whereas Steve’s alarm goes off an hour after you leave. For years, Steve’s always been there the moment your eyes open. Of course, on the day you needed it most, he’s gone. You’ve always had shit luck though.

Grover eats happily while you brew a pot of coffee and scrub away the grime from last night’s dinner off dishes as it brews, quietly humming to yourself. You can’t help but bask in the comfort of your home.

There’s only two bedrooms, a quaint kitchen, a decently sized living room, and a small dining area. It’s nothing like the grand house Steve lived in before, there’s no way you could afford a three story abode and both of you refused to take money from his parents. But it’s away from Hawkins, just a few states away from bad memories.

The life you know now is nothing you could’ve dreamed of as a teenager. Married to your best friend, each of you pursuing dream jobs, being a home and dog owner, with a white picket fence to top it off. It’s all you could’ve asked for back then, and at the time it seemed so untangable, so unrealistic. It was hard picturing such a happy and bright future when you were surrounded with death and gore.

For the most part, both of you have healed. Your wounds are now faint scars, nightmares are a rare occurrence instead of every night. You don’t jump when the phone rings or panic when there’s a knock at the door. You don’t have to worry about saving the world anymore, only bills and what to cook for dinner, or whose turn it is to lock the door. For some, such a simple life would be excruciatingly boring, but for you and Steve it’s paradise.

“Hey sleepy head,” Steve calls from the front door, keys and plastic bags dangling from his hands. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.” He explains, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I was wondering why you went to the store so early.” You smile, shutting the tap off and drying your hands. He sets the bags down on the counter, leaning in to peck your cheek.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful even if you were snoring louder than Grover.” You bat his shoulder as he scratches the beloved dog behind his ears. “How’d you sleep?” You shrug, looking away only for a moment but Steve knows your mannerisms too well. His face softens as he pulls you into his arms. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” His hand combs through your hair as he holds you close, just his touch and the scent of his cologne put your mind at ease.

“I’m sorry, if I had known, I wouldn’t have left.”

“It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can fight monsters all by myself.” You giggle pulling away and emptying the contents of the groceries.

“When have I ever let you fight on your own?” Steve helps place the food items on the counter, pancake mix, chocolate chips, and syrup are now placed neatly on the laminate. “I rented a few movies for tonight, I got The Princess Bride, The Labyrinth, and Alien 2.”

“We’ve already seen those.” You laugh, grabbing a mixing bowl from the cabinet above.

“And we loved them so we’re watching them again --hey stop that, it’s my turn to cook.” He says gently tugging the bowl out of your hands. You raise your hands in surrender as he begins to follow the instructions printed on the box.

Steve and you have always gone back and forth with household chores. You made it abundantly clear that you’d never be the kind of wife to do all the cooking and cleaning the second you said “I do”. It wasn’t a shock that Steve was okay with this, he was already used to caring for himself since his mother was barely around to do it for him. Hence the chores list hanging on the fridge, each of you having an even number beneath your names.

While Steve cooks, you set plates and silverware on the dining room table before flicking through the mail. You don’t open the ones labeled for Steve or even the bills, that can always be a problem for Monday.

One stands out amongst the rest. To Mr. and Mrs. Harringtonyou smile at the scribbled handwriting, you don’t know if you’ll get used to being Mrs. Harrington. “I think the kids wrote us.” You pad back into the kitchen, waving the crisp envelope in the air. You tear into the paper as Steve cranes his neck, hand still mixing pancake batter.

A single polaroid falls into your hands, each kid dressed in their cap in gown. Their arms are thrown over each other’s shoulders, grinning at the lens, their happiness frozen in time. “Miss you both, can’t wait to see you.” You read aloud, smiling at the faces you miss more than anything. “They’ve gotten so big, I can’t believe they’re graduating.”

“They’re about to be adults like us.” Steve chuckles, scooping batter into the skillet. You don’t look away from the tiny photo, tracing their faces with your fingertips. You can only imagine Mrs. Wheeler ordering them to pose, to stand up straighter, to smile for “just one more!”the same way she did when it was you, Steve, Nancy, and Johnathon graduating.

“They look so happy.” You whisper. Steve looks up then, noticing the falter in your smile. He sets down his spatula, ignoring the pancake that will most likely be burnt by the time he returns.

“Are you?” He asks, weaving his arms around your torso.

“The happiest.” You kiss his cheek, passing the photo into his hands for him to get a good look.

“Do you think that’s why you haven’t been sleeping well?” He nods towards the invitations plastered onto the fridge, “Your nightmares usually come back before we visit. Do you think it’s anxiety?” He asks, walking towards the fridge and placing the picture right in the middle of graduation party invites.

“Maybe,” You shrug, flipping the forgotten pancake, only earning a glare from your husband. “It was burning!”

“I told you it was my turn to cook!” You laugh and hop onto the counter as he takes over once more.

“I get scared sometimes,” You admit, Steve doesn’t turn away from the food but you know he’s listening. “Like, I get it, it’s over and it’s been over. And life has been so,so good, you know? But I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For us to have to fight again and I’m so tired of fighting.”

“Hey,” Steve whispers making his way towards you, his fingertips absentmindedly stroking your arms, “It’s been over for a long time. And I understand, returning to Hawkins has always been hard, but we’ve done it many times and everything has been okay. We see the kids, we spend too much money at the arcade, we eat dinner with our parents, and then we come home. We come home without bruises, we come home without something new to give us nightmares.”

You sigh, leaning your head against Steve’s chest knowing he’s right. It’s just anxiety, it had to be.

You and Steve eat in a comfortable silence, the only noises are from your forks scraping against plates or him asking if you could pass the syrup. You’re lost in your own thoughts, feeling excitement to return to the kids but dreading the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign once you enter city limits.

“Steve?” You ask, he only hums in response as he shovels another bite into his mouth. “Let’s say it isn’t over. When we go home and for whatever reason the Mind Flayer is back and they asked us to help… Would we do it?” Steve ponders for a moment as he chews, swallowing before he answers.

“Yeah, I’d like to think we would. It’s not really in our nature to sit back as our friends save the world.” He smiles, although there’s a hint of pain evident in the way he curls his lips. “We’d fight how we always do… Together. All of us.”

“Yeah,” You nod, pushing your now empty plate forward. “Can you do me a favor?” He quirks a brow as he stands, grabbing both dishes to clear the table. “When we leave, can you make sure to pack that bat?”

“The bat? You want me to pack the bat?” He laughs.

“Yeah, you know, just in case.” You shrug.

“Anything for you.” He kisses the top of your head before heading into the kitchen to start the dishes, leaving you alone at the table, once again lost in your thoughts.

You hope visiting Hawkins will be like the last one, a vacation spent smiling, laughing, eating Mrs. Wheeler’s home cooked dinner after the kids’ graduation ceremony. You hope the door is closed like everyone told you, you hope El won’t have to use her powers to defeat a greater evil again. You’ve already saved the world twice; you hope you won’t have to do it a third.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40​ 

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 5 - Life as a Researcher

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

Note: This is an accurate picture of me when I was writing this particular chapter

Warnings: Don’t read this fic at night

Life as a Researcher

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[The coldest recorded body temperature a person has ever survived is 56.7 degrees F (13.2 degrees C)]

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You're on your way to Wedgehurst with a small group of five middle-aged ladies who have followed you to the train station and into the carriage. Gengar doesn't appear to particularly enjoy coming out during day nor does he like to be around crowds so he decides to stay hidden in your shadow.

You've become a Pied Piper of Hamelin of some sort as the women trail after you eagerly and you take up one entire row. You sit in the middle, flanked by two housewives and three standing in front of you. They are friendly enough but they fire questions about you, your profession and how you can help them.

You answer them to your best ability and the most they get out of you is that you're a qualified Researcher. You're not officially aligned with the police but you know the Chief Inspector, Chris Graves.

They ask you how you know him and you're reluctant to tell them everything so all you say is that you have crossed paths with Graves when you were back in Kalos and now he has transferred to Galar for his work and voila, you have a contact in the force who can help you should you ever get wrapped up in cases such as these.

Usually it's the other way round, though.

You have worked with the police before and although they're under the impression that you're kooky and your methods are unorthodox, Graves doesn't mind if you step in at any point though he occasionally warns you that there are fine lines not to be crossed.

You tell the women that three people have also disappeared near the Giant's Seat.

You didn't realise there were more until today.

If you didn't pass Wyndon police station, you wouldn't have known.

The total of missing people is now eight. The first missing person is a gym challenger called Maisy who has been missing for three months. The second is a gym challenger called James, missing for one month and the third is another male gym challenger. No bodies have been found.

When the train slowly chugs into Wedgehurst, you leave the station and plough down the path with the ladies following you, avoiding the Wooloos that litter the streets. The townsfolk, intimidated by your large group, automatically make way for you. You meander towards your house and once you're at the door, it's unlocked and you enter to see Sonia and Magnolia seated down in the kitchen, fixing breakfast for themselves.

Upon your return, Sonia and Magnolia rise from their chairs and Cutiefly and Polteageist are ecstatic to see you, zooming towards your direction. Cutiefly burrows itself into your hair and Polteageist hugs your head whilst Sonia envelopes you in a warm and tight embrace, followed by Magnolia. Every morning, they do this whenever you return home. You believe they are deathly afraid that one day, you will not return.

However, once they spot the crowd outside waiting to enter the establishment, the sight forces their jaws to drop.

Magnolia and Sonia are stunned to see their home suddenly filled with so many people so you quickly explain that they are your new clients and you ask Magnolia for permission, hoping she doesn't mind that you have brought so many random people to her home. She informs you she is fine with this as long as you keep the noise to a minimum and avoid using the fine china.

You promise and remove your coat, kick your boots off and carefully drop your bags and Leon poster on the ground.

And you are so tired that you could fall asleep right here and now because you've pulled an all-nighter but you need to hear the ladies out.

Magnolia leaves you to it and departs for the research lab so you are on your own. You guide the group to the conservatory where you hold most client meetings and let the ladies sit whilst you stand to write notes. You ask if anyone wants some tea and everyone lift their hands up. Polteageist turns away with his arms crossed, refusing to make tea for them. He doesn't like serving tea to strangers anyway.

Luckily for you, Sonia steps in to assist and comes waltzing in with a tray of cookies and hot beverages after a few minutes, with little Yamper balancing a small tray of his own over his head. The ladies coo and fawn over the puppy pokemon.

You're exhausted, eyelids drooping, but you fight hard to stay awake and listen to everyone's testimony, one by one. Normally you would've preferred a one to one session but group sessions work too.

You flip open your journal to take down notes, asking for the date of the disappearance, time, location and any other crucial information and detail no matter how small. You also ask them if the missing sons have been acting strange prior their disappearance but all the answers are no. They also tell you the missing Rotom phones have also mysteriously disappeared and the GPS doesn't show where they are.

Occasionally, the women lose track to discuss amongst themselves and so you have to snap them out of it and focus on providing accurate testimony.

Eventually, you finish after three or four hours and you're really struggling to stay awake.

Please bring my son back alive, that's what they say before they leave and you promise that you would find them alive.

Sonia escorts the women out and returns to the conservatory only to see that you have fallen asleep, sprawled over the sofa with your journal lying open on your lap. She smiles and grabs a blanket from the cupboard which she uses for occasions like these and drapes it over you. Yamper barks but she puts a finger to her lips and they quietly leave the conservatory.

Hours later, you wake up with a start only to discover that it is now nine o'clock.

Rubbing your eyes, you look around; the curtains of the conservatory are drawn and it's eerily silent. You sit up and the journal threatens to fall off your lap but you quickly grab it before it drops to the floor. Stretching, you peel the blanket off you, glance around the empty conservatory before you emit an impossibly loud groan. Cutiefly and Polteageist are in the room and when you get up, they head over to your side.

"Hey guys," you mutter groggily, as they look up at you before quickly nuzzling your cheeks affectionately. "Arceus, I'm so tired...I'm gonna take a shower..."

Suddenly, Gengar appears from your shadow and Cutie and Poltea both look alarmed at your new companion.

You quickly introduce your pokemon to Gengar and your pokemon curiously float over to inspect the shadow pokemon. Cutiefly leaves the sanctity of your hair after a few minutes of reassurance and circles Gengar for a while before returning to sit on your shoulder. Poltea inches closer to Gengar and it appears they are communicating. You watch as the two ghosts make brief exchange before Gengar looks at you with a sad expression.

You ask Polteageist if he has just told Gengar about Rosie and he nods and returns to your side, choosing to hug your head whilst Gengar looks at you sympathetically.

You tell Gengar that if he can help in any way, it would be greatly appreciated and that you would love to study him but you have a new case to work on so maybe another time.

Yawning, you slide off the couch, head for the stairs whilst the Pokemon stay downstairs and you enter the bathroom to shower, peeling off your clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket to be washed later. As you shower and wash your hair, you briefly think about Leon, thinking about his soulful eyes and long eyelashes, and you wonder what he may be doing right now. He must be training in the Wild Area somewhere. You didn't even check if you had received any messages from him.

When you're squeaky clean, you return to your room to get dressed and you see that Sonia has put your bag and all your Leon merchandise next to your bed; you pick the poster up and unfurl it.

Leon's grinning face appears and you let your eyes wander over his form with a smile and Gengar manifests from your shadow on the wall; he floats in the air and circles Leon's poster then points to him.

"Yeah, that's the guy who was with us back in your house. He's the Champion of Galar."

Gengar grins and points to you then at Leon once more, puts his hands where his hips should be and wiggles his hips back and forth, smacks his mouth, imitating and making kissing noises in the air.

"Oh, shush," you say with a smile, "It'll never happen. He's got plenty of girls pining after him anyway."

As you roll the poster properly and let it stand beside your desk, the sound of the bedroom door opening captures your attention and you throw a glance over your shoulder to see Sonia hopping into the room. "Hey, you're - Ah! What's a Gengar doing here?"

"Hey Sonnie," you say, "He's my new partner pokemon. He's from the haunted mansion and he wants to help me."

"Oh, that's lovely," Sonia replies with a smile, and you watch as they both greet each other briefly before Gengar drifts out of your window and towards the roof. Sonia moves to sit on the edge of her bed leisurely, crossing one leg over the other and casually gestures to your bag with the boxed Leon action figurine. "By the way, why did you buy so much Leon merchandise all of a sudden?"

"I met him last night, Sonnie."

Shocked, she sits up properly, leaning forwards in her seat, "You did? That's amazing! He was really keen to meet you but you were always asleep during the day. I'm so glad that you've finally met!"

You nod, mentally berating yourself that all this time, Leon was wanting to meet you but never got the chance.

"What do you think of him?"

You are too shy to tell her any further details such as Leon holding you and whatnot so your response is a mere half-hearted shrug, "He's really nice."

Sonia cheerfully twirls a strand of curly hair between her fingers, "We don't talk much since he became Champion and he's really busy nowadays, but before all that, he used to always come over to the house."

"Oh."

"Your haunted house client called earlier too. He said he'll pop by tomorrow at eight pm if that's okay."

"Yes, that's brilliant. Thanks, Sonnie."

"No problem! How did it go anyway?"

"It was fine," you reply, before you proceed to explain, bringing her up to speed about the events of the haunted house and the conclusion though you omit the details revolving you and Leon; you do not tell her that you stayed with Leon for the rest of the night and the majority of the morning.

You ask her how her day was but she says she helped Magnolia in the lab for the entire day. With a sigh, she wonders when her big break will be.

"And what's this new case you're working on?" she asks next. She's moved to sprawl over her bed on her stomach, looking at her phone.

"Missing people."

There is a brief silence and Sonia slowly puts down her phone, turning to you with an expression of worry. "Ah...I understand, are you sure about this one?"

"Yeah, I am. And I better get a move on. So little time, so much to do."

"Why don't you take a break for the time being?"

"Can't. I need to do this. The police are working on it but it wouldn't hurt if I try to help too."

She lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her head helplessly whilst you muster a weak smile at her and leave the bedroom. She tells you there is dinner left for you in the fridge.

Magnolia appears to be asleep as you tiptoe past her room. You haven't spent enough time talking to Magnolia because your schedules don't match. You're asleep during the day and she goes to sleep at nine, or on some random occasions, seven or eight if she's extremely tired. You both conveniently miss each other a lot.

You spot Yamper chewing on a poketoy near the stairs and as you pass him, you stroke his head and ears and he emits a cheerful bark.

Driven by hunger, you head into the kitchen, grab the leftovers from the fridge and heat them up in the microwave. It's leftover pie, veggies and mash and whilst it's cooking, you brew yourself a cup of Komala coffee for that extra oomph because you believe it'll be another long night. Once the food is ready, you sink into the sofa in the lounge with your late dinner and journal.

The food is piping hot so you balance the plate over the empty seat beside you and check your phone absent-mindedly, checking for any updates. Your blog's latest entry has been quite popular and you're relieved to see that positive comments has overtaken the troll comment left behind by the anonymous user.

However, you haven't received any texts from Leon since you replied to his message this morning.

Your face falls.

You were hoping you would've received at least one reply. Maybe a short message asking to see what else you were up to or maybe something as simple as a 'okay' would've sufficed. To make matters worse, your reply is marked as 'read'.

You try not to think too much about it. Instead, you think about your next plan of action.

Wracked with physical exhaustion, you've not had enough sleep nor have you had sufficient time to think or work out your next plan of action but you can't afford to sit around and do nothing. Peeling yourself off the sofa, you lay out your notes over the couch, picking up your plate of food and munching on some pie before you take a sip of your coffee.

Your Pokemon arrive to see what you're up to and everyone looks at your notes. Your messy handwriting, random arrows, prompt and other small blurbs circled in pen dominate the papers.

The coffee is working its magic in your system and you discover that the lounge isn't a suitable place to gather your thoughts and conduct research, so you quickly finish your meal and collect your notes together once more. You hastily rush to the door to put on your new coat and sink your feet into your worn boots.

Leaving the house with your pokemon, you balance your notes in your arms and you're still holding your mug of coffee for some reason which you didn't realise but no matter, you make your way to the Pokemon Research Lab as quickly as possible.

You fumble with your set of keys once you arrive and when you have unlocked it, you push it open with your back since your arms are full and head inside, pressing on the light-switch using your elbow.

The lights slowly flicker on one at a time, with one light in particular fluttering limply in the corner. The lab is closed at night but Magnolia has granted you permission to peruse it despite being after hours.

Outside, the sounds of raindrops battering the side of the building makes its presence known and you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing if you had left it a second later, you would've been caught in the rain.

You breeze past the seating area and the bookshelves whilst your pokemon linger near Magnolia's work desk which is chock full of documents and pokemon books. A small desk in the corner near the stairs is your destination and you put your coffee and notes down on the surface before you rearrange them in chronological order.

This is your workspace.

Although it's small, it serves it's purpose well and it's currently and unfortunately covered in a thin layer of dust since you hardly had time to carry out desk-based work most of the time.

Your whiteboard stands next to a large potted plant and you grab the handle, slowly easing it out. It is covered with plenty of sticky notes and random photos of ghost Pokemon and symbols. Gengar watches as you flip it to the other side to reveal a detailed map of the Wild Area stuck down with magnets.

It is accompanied with three photos, one of a young girl and two young boys underlined with 'Missing Person #1: Maisy', 'Missing Person #2: James' and 'Missing Person #3 Ed' and a brief outline of the circumstances of their disappearance in short bullet points.

Gengar, Cutiefly and Polteageist watch as you stand in front of the board and grab a black washable marker from the stationary tub, pulling off the lid.

It's time to start and the coffee is kicking in.

"Let's update our board," you say aloud, and you're awfully jittery so you grab your wooden paddleball from your cupboard that comes with a red ball on a string and begin whacking the ball repeatedly over the wood at the same time, "There are now a total of eight missing individuals. Let's start with the new missing folk."

You take the league card of a boy called 'Scottie' from your pile of notes and stick it on the space beside 'Ed', using a magnet to keep it pinned on the board.

"...Missing person four, Scottie: sixteen years old. Gym challenger. Last seen by a Watt Trader at night near the Giant's Seat...Watt Trader said the boy appeared to be running away from something. Mr Watt Trader assumed it was a wild pokemon and didn't come forward immediately. Missing for eight days."

You hastily scribble bullet points on the whiteboard.

"Missing person number five, Frank. Gym challenger, twenty one years old. Last seen wandering the Giant's Seat at night by a group of female travellers, asking to accompany them because he said he was being followed for the past few days. He didn't tell them who or what it was. Appeared to have seen something or someone behind the group and proceeded to run off. Has not been seen since and has been missing for five days."

You stick Frank's league card beside Scottie's.

"Missing person number six, Simon. Gym challenger, twenty years old. No witnesses, but a pokemon breeder found his intact backpack and the rest of his belongings at an empty campsite near the Giant's Seat."

Gengar, Cutie and Poltea watch as you stick Simon's card on the board next.

"Missing person number seven, Ben. Gym challenger, eighteen years old. Last seen camping on the outskirts of the Giant's Seat with his girlfriend. They fell asleep together in the tent. When his girlfriend woke up the next day, the tent was open and he was missing and he hasn't been seen since. His belongings were left intact. Missing for four days."

You're onto the recent victim now.

"Missing person eight. Owen. Gym challenger, twenty. An eyewitness saw him talking to a girl with blue hair in a white dress, possibly a friend or girlfriend. Missing for two days."

You finish sticking up the league cards and photos of the missing individuals. Using the notes provided, you also use red pins to stick on the map. You realise all the pins are scattered randomly around the Giant's Seat area. Once you are finished, you take a step backwards to inspect the whiteboard.

The whiteboard is running out of space.

"What's the connection?" you mutter as you begin pacing up and down with your paddleball. The pokemon watch you keenly as you grab your coffee, taking numerous sips, "Let's summarise briefly."

You turn to Cutiefly, Polteageist and Gengar and they stare at you expectantly.

"All victims are male except one. They're all gym challengers. They're between the ages sixteen to twenty one. Some of them appeared frightened. Some of them even left behind all their possessions. Their Rotom phones have not been found and their GPS location disappeared. They also disappeared at night."

You eventually decide that the way several victims disappeared sounds fishy.

"A guy goes missing from his campsite, leaving his belongings behind. A guy with his girlfriend goes missing from their camp during the night but leaves his stuff behind. And another victim was seen talking to a girl with blue hair in a white dress."

You tilt your head to the side and rub your temples again.

"What pokemon are known to reside in the Giant's Seat? Stufful, Bronzor, Lombre, Machoke, Machop, Nuzleaf...Wooper, Palpitoad, Snover, Snorunt, Munna, Duskull, Electrike, Ghastly, Natu, Mudbray, Growlithe, Vulpix. None of these pokemon should be capable of kidnapping humans or attacking humans, nor do they have any reason to."

You frown and grunt under your breath.

"I need to make a phonecall," you mutter, before you move to your desk, pull your seat out and plop yourself down.

You call Wyndon Police Department, asking for Chief Inspector Chris Graves. You get through after clearing some security measures and stating your identity and occupation. Luckily, Graves is still in the office. Though he's reluctant to give you too much information, you ask him about the testimony and everything checks out: the witnesses, the travellers, the girlfriend, the Watt Trader, the Pokemon breeder.

The only individual the police can't locate or identify is the girl in the white dress with blue hair. No-one has come forth with any information on this.

You also ask about the weather when the people went missing. So far, it's random...ranging from clear skies, rain, thunder and lightning. Then you ask about Maisy, the first missing victim, and what the weather was like when she went missing. It was a snowstorm, apparently.

You thank the Chief and hang up.

This new piece of information seems to have narrowed some things down.

Maisy went missing during a snowstorm and the rest of the victims since her disappearance have been male.

"Could it be...?" you murmur, shooting up in your seat and making a beeline for the board. The unknown girl is actually a big clue. You grab a red marker and circle 'Girl with Blue Hair and White Dress' before you yell, "Rotom!"

Summoned, your phone flies off the desk and into the air, grinning. "Yezzz?"

"Can you get Jace on the line?"

"Zzzure," Rotom replies, before he quickly changes to phone mode and you see he is dialling your friend for you until it gets picked up and the little screen of your phone shows Jace, presumably in his room and working at his desk, tampering on your radio with his Joltik helping him whilst an Eelektross and Heliolisk jump on his bed in the background.

He's wearing a pair of goggles with enlarged lens, blinking at you with magnified eyes, "Hi duckie, what's up?"

"Jace, can you pop over to the lab right now? Bring some of your thermals if you can."

He lifts his goggles up, letting them rest atop his messy hair, "Uh...why? What's going on?"

"It's for an investigation."

"...Oh, uh. Alright, sure, give me thirty minutes to get everything."

You're grateful Jace doesn't ask you too many questions and that he doesn't mind heading over to Wedgehurst at night but then again, he's used to your awkward requests and he's used to being called at random times during the night too.

"Thanks!" you reply, and Jace hangs up.

He arrives in twenty minutes; you wait for him on the plush sofa with your wooden paddleball, repeatedly whacking the ball against the wood until the door to the lab creaks open and you sit up in your seat.

"Geez...The weather is like a Thundurus..." mutters a disgruntled male’s voice.

You look up. "Jace?"

"Hi, chuck," he replies, grinning widely at you as you leap off the sofa to stand. Despite the umbrella, he's partially drenched, his damp blonde hair framing the sides of his face. His Joltik sits on his left shoulder, holding a large leaf over itself.

"Thanks for coming over," you say as he dumps the brolly into the bucket by the door and Joltik discards the leaf it was using as an umbrella.

He greets Poltea and Cutie as they hover over to greet him, giving them affectionate pats on the head whilst you greet Joltik. "No problem. And I got the clothes you wanted. What're you working on?" he asks, handing you a plastic bag which should contain the various thermals you had requested.

"I'm working on the missing person case."

"Can I have a look?"

"Sure." you say, and you both head to the whiteboard and stand side by side.

Jace scrutinises the board whilst you pull out a male's hooded sweater, a heavily insulated technical jacket, a pair of thermal socks and gloves. "So all these young lads are missing. They disappear at night, they're all gym challengers and no bodies have been found?"

"Yep."

"Well, whoever it is that is nabbing them, they like boys."

"That sounded extremely creepy but you're right, and I have a hunch."

"Let's hear it then."

"It's a Froslass."

"A Froslass?"

"Yeah. She's known to kidnap young men and use them as decorations."

"Fuckin' hell!" Jace cries out, "But she lives in snowy mountains, don't she? And she's not native to Galar."

"Yeah, but there's the occasional freak snowstorm in the Wild Area and check this out, the first known person who disappeared in the Giant's Seat is a female and she went missing during a snowstorm. Isn't it weird that no bodies have been found, even though it's been days... a month even? It's because she's kept them frozen in her lair somewhere in the Giant's Seat. It wasn't obvious until I found out there were new victims today and they're all male."

Jace shivers. "...Or maybe it's a serial killer or a crazy cannibalistic family who's kidnapping young men?"

"Or it could be a Froslass."

"Or it could be Macro Cosmos. Someone could be trying to sabotage the gym challenge," Jace says, "They're a powerful company but they can also be awfully dodgy, if you know what I mean. I heard matches are sometimes rigged so they can rake in more cash from the bookies."

"That's a good point but that's awfully risky and why would they want to do that anyway?"

Jace shrugs. "I dunno. You really think it's a Froslass?"

"Yeah."

"If it's a Froslass, why hasn't anyone seen or found one yet? I'm pretty sure someone would've seen one wandering around the Wild Area by now."

You gesture to the words 'Girl with Blue Hair and White Dress'. "Because she can appear under the guise of a young woman. A lost or hurt young woman, maybe. That's how she's been nabbing folk at night."

"What about their Pokemon?"

"She probably froze them too."

Jace makes a weak noise from the back of his throat before he glances at all the photos of the missing people. "Do you think they're dead?"

"...Froslass likes to freeze people and take them to her lair, so...if that didn't kill them on the spot, then Hypothermia will."

"Do you really have to work on this case?" he grimaces loudly and you nod, "I-I don't have a good feeling about this..."

"Even if it isn't Froslass, it doesn't make a difference to my plan."

"Which is what?"

"I'm going to the Giant's Seat. I'm going to pretend to be a boy and I'm going to be bait."

"That is a terrible plan."

"I didn't say it was going to be a good plan."

"Then I'll do it. I'll be the bait."

"There is no way in hell I'm gonna endanger you, Jace."

"I have Joltik to protect me. Isn't that right, little buddy?"

Joltik nods and trills loudly but you shake your head, "Jace, you're mad. What about your job?"

"I'm a Ball Guy for Pete's sake. Not much of a career nor is there much going on there anyway, and it's fine, as long as we finish by the end of the night and we come home before dawn, I'm good."

"Are you...are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Jace, you are MENTAL!"

He chuckles weakly.

Remembering how Leon should be still in the Wild Area somewhere, you can't help but worry. "I told Leon to stay away from the Giant's Seat, but I'm really worried about him now."

Jace grins and pinches at your cheek. "Oh, does little duckie have a crush on Galar's unbeatable Champion?" he coos with a wide smile.

You swat his hand away. "N-no, I'm just really worried about him, that's all," you check your watch as Jace's grin merely widens. It's almost eleven. "Wherever he is, I hope he's safe and staying away from the Giant's Seat."

...

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Wild Area, Leon sneezes.

Someone must be talking about him, or thinking about him.

That's what his mum told him anyway. She is superstitious and traditional like the majority of people in Galar, and she worries about a lot of things. She's worried that Rose is working him to the bone, she's worried that he isn't eating enough or staying hydrated enough and she's always wanted him to come home more often than he does.

Leon has never had a girlfriend although the attention he receives from girls is simply astronomical and so are the amount of love letters that gets sent to their home on a daily basis. His mum hopes that he will meet a nice girl who he can bring home one day. She does not want her son to end up hurt and taken advantage of.

Leon chuckles, wondering how his mum will react if she finds out that he had in fact camped with a girl all night. No doubt, his mum would be dying to know who this girl is and who her parents are.

He doesn't disclose to his parents that he's already devised a sort of test to determine if a girl is 'the one' or not and it's to do with Charizard. Call him old-fashioned, but the girl must get along with his pokemon and Charizard doesn't let anyone except Leon and Hop ride his back.

Therefore, if Charizard lets a girl ride on his back, he will know she's a special one.

He recalls how you got on quite well with his pokemon and ponders to himself. You're the first girl he's come across in the Wild Area and to be frank, he can't quite get you out of his head.

You've intrigued him.

Earlier on in the day and he received your message and tried to respond but unfortunately he hasn't had any luck getting any reception in the new area he's moved to.

Instead, he focuses in skimming through your blog.

The main page shows a photo of yourself with Gengar and the brief outline you had written of the haunted mansion. It occurs to Leon that he didn't take a photo with you. Maybe next time, he thinks. Leon scrolls through and reads some of your other articles before he comes across the page with your testimonials.

One of the testimonials is from a young man called 'Jace', who wrote that you had helped him when he saw his poor Joltik levitating off the floor and being flung against the wall by an unseen force for three nights in a row. He didn't know who to go to so called the police but they treated him with skepticism and believed it was simply a trick of the eye which prompted Jace to seek further help.

"She was the only one who believed me," Jace wrote, "And yes, it was a ghost. My grandma's ghost who, bless her dearly departed soul, despised my bug pokemon before her untimely passing."

He also states that you are a great listener and demonstrated strong compassion.

Leon reads the other testimonials and finds himself smiling when he sees the positive feedback you have received from random people who have all said the same thing: you are a great listener, empathetic and most importantly, you believed them when no-one else would.

Another person has written: "She knows her shit, don't question her."

Moving on, Leon reads your 'About Me' page.

You're originally from Kalos. You have researched ghost pokemon for five years give or take. You have an innate gift for sensing evil, to see and hear what most cannot. With these, you aim to discover and learn more about the paranormal and supernatural phenomena which most people cannot explain. Ghost pokemon fascinate you because they are living proof that ghosts exist, and they appear to exist in two planes: the spirit world and the world of the living. They can also act as mediums or guides to the afterlife. This is what your research is all about.

Leon reads all this whilst eating his dinner. It's great reading material.

He's had a full day of training with Charizard and now they're camping again, making dinner to fill their hungry stomachs. He remembers that you had warned him not to go near the Giant's Seat so he hasn't wandered around too much but they've decided to camp for the night and he's not quite sure what this location is.

Charizard tastes the soup and decides there's not enough flavour so he nudges Leon's bag open and rifles through, sifting out a little packet of salt. Leon notices immediately and stops his friend.

"Wait, Charizard," Leon says, "This was a gift, remember?"

With the bag of salt in his claw, Charizard rolls his eyes and snorts. It's salt. Salt, for Pidove's sake. And it's the only salt they have. The soup would taste a bit better if they sprinkled a teeny tiny pinch of salt, but Leon takes the packet of salt out his claws and returns it to the bag.

"Let's use some Chesto berries," Leon replies, grabbing some of the little blue berries out instead and Charizard snorts in disagreement since Chesto berries are more likely to make the soup taste blander.

He's about to toss them in when he hears a rather faint and fragile wail of "Help!".

And he promptly looks up.

"What was that?"

Charizard looks up from his bowl. He didn't hear it.

"Help!" the voice cries again.

It sounds quite close.

Leon gets up to stand, placing his bowl down on the ground. "Did you hear that, Charizard? Someone's in trouble!" the Champion immediately leaves camp, attempting to locate the source.

Charizard bumbles after him, not entirely keen in leaving behind the nice and warm, toasty campfire he created.

Leon returns onto the path, trying to pinpoint where the pleas are coming from and he completely passes the faded wooden sign that says 'Giant's Seat: 5 mins' without realising. Charizard follows his friend, using his tail to act as a light and they head closer and closer towards the source of the voice. Leon shivers slightly, realising the temperature has rapidly dropped all of a sudden and the cries for help has dissolved into mournful, female sobbing.

However, up ahead on the path lies a girl with blue hair in a white dress, her bare legs covered in dirt and blood. She also has no shoes.

Leon arrives first and steps forwards; she looks up at him with her light blue, crystal-like eyes. He drops by her side on one knee, throwing a glance to her leg. "Miss, are you okay?"

"Help me, please. I'm cold and alone."

"Can you stand?"

"Help me, please. I'm cold and alone."

Maybe she is traumatised. Leon loops her arm around his shoulder and immediately notices that she is icy to touch. The frigidness of this girl's hand could be mistaken for a corpse. As he hesitates, the girl looks at him curiously before she places her cold hand on his cheek, pulling him closer to her face.

Leon grows uncomfortable at once as she appears to scan his features, "Um...excuse me, miss, what are you-"

Charizard arrives and the girl turns, appearing to have been caught by surprise. Her eyes widen in a split second before she lets out a hysterical shriek, pushes Leon away and sprays him with a gust of icy wind from her mouth. From her hands, a glowing ball of light materialises from thin-air which she flings towards Charizard's direction.

The flame pokemon is unable to avoid and becomes disoriented immediately, having caught the attack head-first.

His vision is swimming and he's seeing spots. Confused, he roars, turning left and right blindly. His brain has decided not to function properly. He hears Leon yelling for him. The sounds of a girl screaming assaults his ears. He doesn't know what to do.

"Charizard, use flamethrower!"

Flamethrower? Okay.

Charizard unleashes a huge barrage of flames towards a dark figure in front of him which he assumes is his target.

Much to his surprise, Charizard yelps when he feels his own flames lashing at his body. Being a fire-type, it doesn't bother him but he has hurt himself in his confusion.

Charizard looks left and right again but where is Leon? Where is his best friend? As the world spins senselessly around him, Charizard flaps his wings and attempts to fly into the air before he abruptly crashes into a tree trunk. He topples over and lands on his back, roaring wildly and his vision and mind gradually clears up, the effect of the Confuse Ray finally wearing off.

Charizard sits up, clutching his aching, pounding head. How long was he confused?

It's still night-time.

He is alone.

Charizard growls and huffs, glancing around the empty woods but he is alone; Leon is nowhere to be seen. He cannot see hair nor hide of his friend anywhere.

What about the girl?

What was she?

A ghost?

He tries his hardest to suss out where Leon may have disappeared off to but to his dismay, he cannot find any footprints, cannot pick up his scent, nothing. He returns to camp but Leon is not present either.

Emitting a bellow of despair, Charizard takes off to the skies as fast as he can. He leaves the Wild Area, remembering the exact spot where the incidence occurred and heads for the closest town which is Wedgehurst. It lies straight up ahead. Maybe he should've gone to find Chairman Rose or maybe even Raihan, but you're actually the first person he thought of and so he perseveres in his journey, hoping it's the right thing to do.

Landing in front of Magnolia's house with a loud 'thump', he marches up and pounds on the door with his curled claw. Charizard is relieved when you open the door; you're the only person who's awake at this hour anyway. Sonia and Magnolia are fast asleep.

"Charizard?" you utter in surprise.

He nods his head and snorts and huffs loudly, hoping you can understand him.

You glance around curiously then say, "Where's Leon?"

The pokemon growls loudly with anger and frustration at himself before he lowers his head with shame and guilt, because he has lost his friend. His eyes begin to grow wet because he is worried and ashamed.

You know something is wrong immediately. "It's alright, calm down. Let's go find him, okay?" you step towards him and pat him on the head affectionately as Charizard continues to bellow with grief and hide his head under his claws, "It's okay."

Charizard whines and looks at you, then nudges his head further under your palm. You rub his leathery horns and give him a gentle rub behind his ears.

"What's wrong?" says a new voice, and Charizard sees a young man with blonde hair appearing behind you.

"Jace, this is Leon's Charizard. Something must've happened to Leon," you reply, before you quickly rush inside the house and re-emerge dressed in the warm, insulted coat, hoodie and gloves, "Let's go, Charizard. Where did you lose Leon? Can you take me there?"

Charizard nods vigorously and bites on your sleeve as you pull your bag over your shoulder, tugging you forwards impatiently, inviting you to climb onto his back.

"I'll go too!" Jace yells, but the moment you climb onto Charizard's awaiting back and he immediately soars into the sky. Jace is left on his own. "...Oh. Maybe not then."

...

[between-two-fandoms]

The Lion Roars Destiny

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Jaskier has spent the better part of the decade avoiding his past. Now, as the Aslan roars he can’t resist the Lion’s call to bring him home.

Notes: Chapter two will not be posted until after Geraskier Week 2020. Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve got everybody in the tag list but if I missed you let me know :)

Tag List: @g-e-r-a-s-k-i-e-r @buttercuppedwitchers @andyet-here-we-are @thewanderingwritersandco @slectivegeekswithstandards @Jaskier-royale @innocentbi-stander @hannadants123 @joeybateydaily​ @witchersjaskier​

“Sing the song of the Lion’s roar,” an audience member requested. The crowd fell into an uneasy silence, Jaskier looked up surprised. The last time he performed any songs from his time in Narnia was years ago. The person stepped forward to reveal a child, barely the same age as the princess, holding a sword. The patrons grumbled as Jaskier declared his performance over for the evening. Kneeling down he beckoned the child forward. 

“Who told you of that song?” Jaskier asked the boy. The child offered him the blade and he took it, running his thumb over Aslan’s mane engraved in the hilt. 

Memories flooded back to him, fields of emerald grass, dancing trees, the coast littered with colored sea glass and an ocean as far as one could see. The boy pointed to the back door,

“The person said you’d know who he is. He said he couldn’t come inside.” The boy responded, then turned around leaving Jaskier holding Rhindon in the center of the tavern. Jaskier frowned, it wasn’t like his brother to part with the sword. When one receives a gift from Father Christmas, you tend to treat it with the utmost respect. The bard glanced across the room at his witcher, the man seemed to be enthralled in Ciri, who was moving her arms about wildly. No doubt she was recounting her journey she took trying to find Geralt. Borrowing some paper from the bartender Jaskier wrote a short letter which he hoped explained his sudden silence. Sliding the folded letter between his lute strings Jaskier left his beloved instrument behind, making the bartender promise he would deliver it to Geralt. He turned back to Geralt and the princess. The witcher was smiling wider than Jaskier could ever get him to smile. Jaskier knew he didn’t have a hand in Geralt’s destiny, he just hoped the two of them would have a little bit more time together. Turning, the fifth king of Narnia left the witcher and his Child Surprise in destiny’s hands.

“Hello?” Jaskier whispered. Behind the tavern stood four stalls, two of which were occupied. An uneasy feeling began to bubble in the pit of his stomach as he approached them. One held Roach while another held a horse Jaskier hadn’t seen in a very long time. Bypassing Roach’s stall the bard reached his arm forward and Phillip bowed his head. Jaskier ran his left hand down the horse’s nose, “what’s going on Phil?” Jaksier asked the mare. The horse bowed his head in greeting,

“My king. Narnia is in troubled times.” The bard frowned as Phillip’s eyes looked past Jaskier to the treeline. Jaskier turned his head to the trees as he asked, 

“there’s something wrong isn’t there?” Though he had no witcher powers to his name Jaskier could still make out the outlines of four shapes just beyond the treeline. Jaskier dropped his hand then turned to Roach. “If you say anything to him I’ll stop sneaking you sugar cubes.” The bard whispered to Geralt’s horse. Just as he was about to walk towards the trees he paused. It wasn’t really fair of him to leave the witcher so abruptly, and Jaskier didn’t know if they’ll ever reunite. “Got it?” He asked Roach, the horse nickered in response. Adjusting his grip on Rhindon’s handle Jaskier stepped into the dense woods standing before them.

Once he got through the fog Jaskier could see the shapes more clearly, four humans sat on logs surrounding a small fire. There were no tents pitched, at least none Jaskier could see. Three horses were tied to trees surrounding the camp. He crept silently closer to the four people shrouded in hoods.

“Let’s play hide seek!” Lucy requested, as always Jaskier caved to her wish. He began counting as his siblings raced around the Professor’s house trying to find a hiding spot. It was barely one-hundred seconds later when Lucy sprinted down the hallway telling tales of a faun stuck in a land of eternal winter.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts Jaskier expertly swing Rhindon around his wrist. He turned the sword onto the shortest person, she screamed as he pressed the steel to her throat. The others stood up, one drew a sword, while the other had an arrow drawn to their cheek. “Who are you?” Jaskier asked the people, he prayed to Aslan they weren’t his siblings. The four rulers would rather die before they let something  happen to their country. The tallest man stepped between the archer and swordsman, hands up as though he was placating an attacking animal.

“We don’t need any attention brought to us. Give Rhindon to me and we can talk.” Jaskier tensed, then the girl in his arms spoke.

“Julian please, let me go,” she begged. It was enough to make Jaskier loosen his grip just enough for her to slip through his grasp. When she walked to the others she tripped over a log and fell to her knees. As she hit the ground her hood fell off and Jaskier dropped the sword.

“Come on,” Edmund said poking him awake. “Let’s go see if Narnia is real.” Julian blinked the crust out of his eyes then grabbed a candle to follow his baby brother. The two of them crept down the hall, skipping the planks they knew would creak, and entered the room with the wardrobe. The light from their candles was enough for Julian to see the wardrobe’s cover was still lying discarded on the floor amongst the other storage boxes.

“Edmund!” Julian hissed as his brother reached up to twist the doorknob. The door swung open on its own accord, a gust of wind knocked Edmund onto his arse. Julian stared at the wardrobe in disbelief, then followed his little brother. Wind blew out their candles as they stepped into a winter wonderland. Julian laughed with glee then threw a snowball at Edmund’s face, his brother glared back at him. “Oh come on, at least have some fun while we’re here!” Julian goaded. The sound of something breaking through the trees quickly caused Julian to shove Edmund behind him. The sleigh stopped suddenly, pushing them into the snow. Julian exchanged a glance with his brother. Edmund seemed to be enchanted by the intricate designs on the wood grains.

“Lucy?” He asked the girl. She turned around and nodded, then used a drop of her elixir to heal the wounds Jaskier gave her. Jaskier looked back at the others, who now had their hoods pulled down. Peter was young when Jaskier left Narnia, but now… now his eyes were those of a king who saw too much. Edmund’s face was sunken into his skull, a blank expression seemed to be forever etched into it. Susan, as always, looked calm and collected, but Jaskier could see the hurt and worry deep in her eyes. “What happened?” Jaskier asked as Aslan’s roar shook the Darkling Woods.

-------

Geralt cursed when he realized Jaskier wasn’t playing anymore. Ciri must’ve noticed his mood change because she threw up her hood and followed his gaze across the tavern. “Where is he?” Geralt asked Ciri. The princess, of course, didn’t have an answer. His eyes scanned each patron carefully, perhaps his bard changed his shirt. The witcher ordered his Child Surprise to stay in her seat while he walked to the bar counter. “my bard,” Geralt said to the bartender. The man, to his benefit, didn’t look afraid. He simply reached behind the counter and pulled out Jaskier’s lute. Geralt tensed, his bard refused to go anywhere without his instrument. Now that he was able to get a closer look at it, Geralt could feel the gentle hum of magic flowing through the strings.

“That’s all he left, some kid came in and gave him a sword. The bard said you wouldn’t understand so he wrote you a note.” The bartender informed him. Geralt grunted in response, then Ciri pulled at his sleeve,

“Geralt? We should get going.” She spoke softly, and of course she was right. They had already spent three nights in this town so were planning on leaving by the fourth day.

“Hmm…” Geralt said running a hand down the neck of the lute. He noticed the piece of paper folded into the strings. Taking the slip of paper he gave the instrument to Ciri for safekeeping. He slid a finger under the paper’s crease and began to read the letter.

Geralt of Rivia,

You have your child surprise. Soon you’ll be much too busy to track me down when I get into trouble. Something I’ve learned over the years is how to know when I’ve overstayed my welcome. By Aslan’s mane I ask of you to not try to track me, once I reach my destination you won’t be able to.

My family needs me Geralt, they always come first. My home always comes first.

With love,

Jaskier

Something fell to the pit of Geralt’s stomach as he crumpled the letter in his fist. Turning back to the bartender he asked, “Where did my bard go?” The bartender wordlessly pointed to the backdoor leading to the stables. Geralt pulled out a sword as Ciri slung Jaskier’s lute across her back. Then they both walked out the back of the tavern. Once he realized there was no immediate threat the witcher returned his blade to its place on his back. Geralt sniffing at the air he frowned, there used to be two horses in the stables. Geralt walked past Roach, patting her side as he did so. “Who used to be here?” He wondered out loud. To his surprise Ciri bent down and began to dig through the mud where the second horse used to stand.

“Geralt, look,” she said pulling up a medallion covered in dirt and grime. Ciri rubbed it against her cloak, cleaning it off. When she did the moonlight sky caused the silver to shimmer. The medallion itself was ruby with details of silver and gold. In the center of it all was the image of a lion proudly roaring as its mane fell down its back. Near the top of the coin Geralt could just make out an engraving.

For Narnia and for Aslan. 

Geralt watched Ciri’s eyes lit up in excitement when she read it. “Narnia is a land of freedom and magic!” Ciri exclaimed, “grandmother used to tell me stories about it.” Geralt took the medallion from her and ran a thumb over the lion’s shape. He frowned,

“But why is the coin here?” Geralt asked out loud. He turned to Roach, his trusty steed seemed to be apprehensive about something. “Roach, what is it?” He asked running a calming hand down her mane. The mare neighed then nudged Jaskier’s lute with her nose, then she pointed her head in the direction of the Darkling Woods. Geralt looked where his horse was then swore when the sound of a lion’s cry could be heard in the distance.

“Fuck,” he cursed. Suddenly there was a swirling portal in front of them and Yennefer stepped through it. Geralt tensed, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood for a fight.

“Enough Geralt, you think louder than Jaskier sings,” she said. Geralt grunted, but still kept a safe distance between her and Ciri. “I need your help…” she said slowly then she turned her attention to the Child Surprise.

“Yennefer, no questions asked,” Geralt grumbled. Yennefer’s focus turned back to Geralt’s before she said,

“One of my sisters came back to life.” Ciri spoke up from behind him,

“Isn’t that a good thing?” She asked, and Geralt couldn’t help but agree. To his surprise; however, the mage shook her head.

“Not this one,” she said, “the evils of Nilfgaard are nothing compared to the powers of the White Witch.” Geralt grunted then helped Ciri mount Roach. Once she was secured he followed suit, climbing on behind her. As they traveled away Yennefer shouted, “I know where your bard is!” Geralt stopped Roach then turned around. The mage looked desperate as she pleaded, “please. If you help me you can have your bard back.” Geralt narrowed his eyes,

“How did you know Jaskier was missing?” The mage seemed to have an inner debate before answering.

“Because Geralt of Rivia. Every decent mage knows what Aslan’s roar means.” Yennefer formed a new portal then stepped through it, disappearing in a wave of magic. Ciri took a hesitant step forward, then followed Yennefer. Geralt turned to Roach then ordered,

“Stay here.” The witcher stepped into the portal tripped into a frozen wasteland brimming with magic.

A woman dressed like a queen stepped out of the sleigh. Julian quickly scampered to his feet and bowed, luckily Edmund followed his lead. Something about the woman in white felt off to Julian, but Edmund was easily entranced by her magical powers and ability to summon Turkish Delight out of thin air. “Are you children of Adam?” She asked them, Julian frowned. Edmund was the one who answered,

“We’re humans if that’s what you mean.” Julian poked Edmund in his side then took over.

“Your Highness, we must be taking leave.” He said trying to get his brother away from the woman. The Snow Queen chuckled,

“Humans, you never learn to appreciate the nice things in life.” The sled reached the peaks of the mountains to reveal a beautiful castle of ice. Perhaps a night or two wouldn’t hurt, Julian thought as his thoughts slowly became muddled and fuzzy.