#actually you are forbidden from exploding

[technically-human]

Just read through all your ivoxstone stuff and I'm now drooling for more. are they actually together before/after S3? If they are how did they get together? If not how do you see them becoming official? (If that's something you see happening?)

They're not together in most of my comics, simply because I think that makes their behavior funnier. However, I do like to think they'd get there eventually, and this is what I have in mind:

Stone didn't know

ko-fi

[dustyzoiveon]

yknow it's kind of amazing how they made the ui visually look so much bigger. and yet the meatball menu is still so easy to miss. UI the size of my entire thumb and yet if you don't click it dead center it opens the blog instead of the meatball menu

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 8 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: peach, curses, luxury, impostor syndrome, alcohol, jungkook's family, they are so gone for each other my dude, explicit content: hickeys, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), exhibitionism (sort of but not really), protected sex, Jungkook is a teasing hoe, marking, ass slapping, praising, clit play

☆word count: 13.5k

☆a/n: NEW YOOOORK!!! My second favourite chapter of this series bc it's just so asjgsrjgsabfgo but I'll let you guys be the judge of that haha enjoy reading <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 8th 

The sun is high in the sky, the snow melting on the side of the road, and Jungkook’s car is eating the miles towards New York, the music you’ve been listening to since you’ve left loud yet enjoyable.

Or maybe what’s truly enjoyable is the smile on Jungkook’s face whenever you meet his gaze while you’re bolting a duet, singing over the music.

Scratch that, you’ve been enjoying yourself because you’re with Jungkook. It doesn’t matter what you’d be doing - as long as it’s with Jungkook, you know you’d have fun. Even as his car slows down almost to a halt as you near the city and face its traffic, it doesn’t deter you.

No, Jungkook’s wide grin and his hand on your thigh keeps your mind far too occupied to be able to produce anything other than serotonin, and you think you deserve it. Especially after the uncertainty of the last few weeks, you deserve this moment with Jungkook.

This moment, away from reminders of Taehyung and of how you know this relationship is bound to explode in your face one day.

You shove that thought away as Jungkook’s giggle fills the car, and you glance at him, smiling brightly.

“You’re not really going to put some Taylor Swift on,” Jungkook complains, yet it’s at odds with the amused light in his eyes.

“I sure am,” you reply, and the song Welcome to New York starts playing. 

You know it by heart, and Jungkook watches you in awe as you sing. If you weren’t rational, you’d assume he’s looking at you with heart-shaped eyes, but you know better than that.

You’re just his fake girlfriend for the weekend. Nothing more. 

Nothing more than the fact that you will meet his entire family, including his extended family, tomorrow. He doesn’t seem like he cares, and you’ve been trying to pretend that you don’t care either, but it is making you feel anxious.

You’ve never had a boyfriend that you’ve met the family of before. Or actually, you’ve never had a boyfriend whatsoever.

Jungkook knows his way in the city. You’re not surprised - he grew up here, and he told you he usually spends his summers back home as well to work and make enough money for the year. What you’re surprised about is that the streets down which he starts driving once you’re passed the traffic and into the city proper look expensive, exuding wealth that you could only ever wish to know.

It only increases when he parks his car in the underground parking garage of a huge skyscraper which apparently holds condos and the like.

At least that’s what he says. 

“Leave your bag in the car,” Jungkook tells you as you’re about to fetch your duffel bag from the backseat. 

You cock an eyebrow in question. “Aren’t we here?”

He smiles mischievously, eyes shining in the white neon light of the underground garage. “I’m taking you shopping.”

“Why?” you burst out, looking down at yourself. “Are my clothes not good enough?”

He walks around the car, pulling you away from the car door by the hand before he shuts it behind you, leaning against it. 

“Trust me, peach, your clothes are perfect for me,” he says. “But I much prefer you without the clothes on.”

He winks, and you punch him in the shoulder, cheeks flaming.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble.

“You like it.”

“I don’t.”

He smiles as you fake-glare at him, until you both start laughing. He extends a hand for you to take, and you let him engulf your small hand with his large one as he pulls you towards the elevator.

“Seriously though, I’ll get you a nice dress for tomorrow night,” Jungkook says as you reach the elevator, and he presses the call button. “Not that I don’t trust what you’ve brought,” he quickly adds before you could say anything. “More as a thank you for doing this for me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, yet you nod your head. Because who would say no to free clothes?

Certainly not you.

Jungkook pulls you behind him in the elevator when the doors slide open, and then presses on the ground floor. Once you get off, he’s quick to guide you down a hallway that looks straight out of a fancy hotel - marble floors reflecting the light of the sconces on the walls, abstract paintings at regular intervals on the wall to the left, over dark oak tables with white flowers in crystal vases. 

The hallway even smells expensive, and you throw a curious glance to Jungkook.

“Where are we?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

He glances at you over his shoulder, winking at you. “Home.”

“This is what you call home?” you ask, thinking about the small apartment you grew up in on the poor side of the city you hail from.

He shrugs. “I feel more at home back in college, but yeah, I grew up here.”

“Jungkook,” you say, tugging on his hand to stop him, but he’s determined, his steps unfaltering.

You grumble under your breath, yet you follow him out into the early evening setting sun, the doors of the building golden. You don’t ask the questions that are burning in your mind - what do his parents do for a living? Why didn’t he mention he was rich?

Why does he live in that small, old apartment with you and Taehyung if he can afford so much more?

The questions spin in your head like they are a tornado of thoughts, and they only increase in speed as he pulls you to an Yves Saint Laurent store, pushing the door open as if he owns the place.

Could he…?

“Jeon Jungkook!” a middle-aged lady greets him, her face lighting up as you come into view. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hey, Mrs Smith,” Jungkook answers. “Meet my girlfriend.”

He tugs on your hand, forcing you to step out from behind him, and you blush as the lady appears. She’s tall, though you believe it might be because she’s wearing stilettos, and her skirt and blazer combo makes her look like a businesswoman. 

The nametag on the blazer is a clear indication that she isn’t, though. No, she visibly works here.

“Hello,” you awkwardly say, not knowing what else to say as she looks you up and down.

“Are you here for a new wardrobe?” she asks, the question directed towards Jungkook as if what you’re wearing is the ugliest outfit anyone has ever come up with before.

You try to not take offense, yet you find yourself momentarily clenching your jaw as Jungkook replies, “No, just for a dress for Junghyun’s engagement party.”

Mrs Smith nods, and she motions towards what looks like a small scene in front of multiple mirrors. It’s the kind of thing you’ve seen before in period pieces, where the seamstresses take the ladies’ measurement. So you’re not entirely surprised when Mrs Smith pulls out a measuring tape from a hidden pocket in her blazer, and you let her do her work, your eyes on Jungkook as he watches with an amused smile on his lips.

“You could have warned me,” you say, and Mrs Smith looks up towards you, the frown on her features convincing you to shut up until she’s done.

Jungkook only laughs, saying, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

He does. He certainly does, and though it’s pissing you off, there’s something endearing about the way he’s watching from that couch, the small smile on his lips softening his features. 

You fall silent as Mrs Smith keeps working, and soon she’s sauntering off, the sound of her stilettos click-clacking slowly fading. You immediately climb off from the little scene, storming towards Jungkook.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were rich?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Does it change anything?”

“It doesn’t.” You look around, not quite believing that you’re standing in a designer store. “But then it does.”

He pouts, the expression so adorable you feel like leaning in and kissing him. It’s startling, and before you can do anything, Mrs Smith comes back with a light blue dress she wants you to try on. You follow the lady to the dressing room, and Jungkook offers you a wink as you glance at him over your shoulder.

Mrs Smith leads you into the room, and it’s way too large for just a dressing room. She leaves the dress on a hook against a wall, in front of a tall standing mirror, and you thank her as she gets out, gently shutting the door behind her.

Which leaves you alone with your thoughts, and with the fact that Jungkook wants to buy you a designer dress. 

You take a look at the dress. It’s beautiful, the colour eerily similar to that of a summer sky, yet maybe somewhat a little paler. You step towards it, searching for a tag, but you can’t find any. The softness of the fabric is a clear indication that it is probably worth more than everything you own combined together, and you anxiously take off your clothes to put it on.

One look in the mirror makes you feel like a princess. Like you’re the one someone might write a story about, or sing a song to. Even though your hair is a mess and you’re not wearing any makeup, you feel more beautiful than you’ve ever felt before.

The dress hugs your curves perfectly, enhancing them in all the right places. It looks like it was tailor-made for you, and for a moment you believe you’re in love.

You really do think you’re in love when you shyly step out of the dressing room for Mrs Smith to finish zipping the dress up, and Jungkook looks up from his phone to look at you.

The smirk on his lips slowly dies down, and his gaze doesn’t move from you as you step closer. You don’t think he’s blinking, or even breathing, and you truly feel like the most beautiful woman in the world right now.

“Do you like the dress?” a female voice to your left says, but you can’t look away from Jungkook.

You’re entranced, and it seems that he is too. Like you’re the center of the universe, or maybe that’s him - it’s hard to tell.

“We’ll take it,” Jungkook says after a moment, and he gets up. 

Towering over you, he tilts your head back with a finger on your chin, and you gulp as your gazes connect.

“On the family tab?” Mrs Smith asks. 

“Yes.”

“How much is the dress?” you can’t help but query, turning your head towards Mrs Smith.

She regards you with an eyebrow cocked, before glancing at Jungkook. “10,350 dollars, miss.”

Your mouth falls open as she walks away, and you immediately look back towards Jungkook.

“No,” is all that you say.

He flicks your nose. “Don’t cause a scene, peach.”

“I’m not causing a scene,” you say through gritted teeth. “This dress is worth more than a year of my share of the rent.”

“And? Your point?”

You roll your eyes, folding your arms on your chest. “I’m not letting you buy this.”

“Well too bad for you, it’s already paid for.”

He winks at you again, and then plops back down on the couch, his smirk widening into a grin that makes butterflies come to life in your stomach.

It’s a feeling you don’t like, so you turn your back on him, heading back to the dressing room. With new respect for the dress, you slowly take it off, treating it reverently. Once it’s safely back on the hanger, you put your clothes back on, hands shaking a little at the enormity of what Jungkook just did.

Though, to him, it doesn’t seem like it was a lot. Indeed, when you get out of the dressing room, leaving the dress behind because you don’t dare touch it again, Jungkook springs up from the couch, offering you his hand.

And even though you feel like maybe you don’t really know anything about him, you take his hand. His fingers close around yours, gently, and he offers you a smile that makes you warm like spring days, when the world is coming back to life.

And as you walk behind him, you think maybe, maybe this weekend is a great opportunity to get to know him better. To get to know the man that hides behind the cocky behaviour, the one you’ve seen on multiple occasions already.

Though it should scare you, the thought only makes you hold onto Jungkook’s fingers a little tighter. He reciprocates, and it’s with a heart beating wildly that he waits with you for Mrs Smith to bring the dress over, safely hidden in a dress bag. Jungkook takes it for you, and then he pulls you behind him.

You’re soon swallowed by the New York city bustling crowd, though Jungkook is a lighthouse in the storm and you feel safe.

You feel safe with him, and that, more than anything, scares you.

*****

“You’re shitting me,” is all you say when Jungkook leads you into his room, once you’re back at the condominium in which he grew up.

You’d gathered enough information to know that he was rich. But you didn’t think he was rich rich - the condo he grew up in is on the two highest levels of the skyscraper, with an unparalleled view of Central Park that’s making you feel like you’re a bird soaring in the sky.

Jungkook laughs behind you as he shuts the door, dropping your duffel bag and his next to it. You’ve been carrying the dress up, treating it like the treasure that it is, and Jungkook gently takes it from your hand as he walks away, disappearing in what you can only assume is his walk-in wardrobe. 

He pops back out a few seconds later, minus the dress bag, and he offers you a smile that’s even more blinding than the city view. “No, I’m not,” he says.

You chuckle, cheeks burning for a reason you don’t quite understand, and then you scan his room. It’s cold, empty, void of the quality that makes his room back at the apartment feel like his. This room is impersonal, the kind of room you’d see in interior design magazines, with the black bed covers and equally as dark walls. Light comes from behind the bed frame, yet the true beauty of the room is that of the city, and you take it in as you step closer to the floor-to-ceiling window that is the wall at the foot of the bed.

“I can’t believe it,” you murmur. “This is so beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

You slowly nod, glancing towards Jungkook. “I can’t believe you chose to live in that shitty apartment with Tae when this is what you were accustomed to.”

He shrugs, not answering anything, as he instead heads to where he left the duffel bags so that he can carry them into the walk-in. You follow him then, curious to see what the rest of his bedroom looks like.

The walk-in is empty, save for a corner that holds a couple of suits you imagine to be from different designer brands. You notice a few dress shirts over there too, but your gaze focuses on the PC setup that’s in between two walls of shelves.

Finally, something that feels like Jungkook.

You walk towards it, rolling the chair back so that you can sit in it. Jungkook drops your duffel bag on the shelf behind you, and you turn your chair so that you can face him.

“You want to play?” he asks.

“What games do you have?”

He leans towards you, and you catch a whiff of his cologne as he turns the PC on. 

“Honestly I don’t remember what’s downloaded on the PC,” he truthfully replies. “Just check out my Steam account.”

And then he’s walking towards the other side of the walk-in, heading towards what you can only assume is the bathroom. You spring up from the chair, and it rolls behind you from the sudden motion as you jog to the bathroom.

You’re not surprised to see just how expensive the bathroom looks. Black tiles cover the floor, and they climb the walls of the walk-in shower next to which a wide-standing cabinet with glass doors is. A proper look at the shower shows that it’s one with multiple shower heads, and you already know the shower you’ll take later will be heavenly, clearly the best you’ll ever take in your life. Jungkook leans on the counter, folding his arm on his chest as he watches you taking everything in, your gaze wide from awe.

“You don’t even have a bath,” you comment, and Jungkook bursts out laughing.

“I never needed one. But if you want to take a bath, there’s one in the bigger bathroom on this level.”

“Isn’t it connected to like… your parents’ room or something?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Yeah, but my parents haven’t stayed here since I was five,” he reveals. “They prefer staying at hotels.”

You furrow your brow. “They have such a nice condo and they don’t even enjoy it?”

Another shrug of Jungkook tells you that he, too, doesn’t understand his parents. 

“If you want, I can give you a tour of the whole place,” Jungkook suggests after a beat of silence.

Your eyes light up, and you nod forcefully. “Yes. Please, I’d love to.”

He laughs at your enthusiasm, before motioning towards the toilet. “I do have to go to the bathroom first, if you’ll excuse me.”

Cheeks burning, you mumble an apology that makes him laugh as you step out of the bathroom, and he gently closes the door behind you. Embarrassed, you make your way back to the gaming setup, and you watch the landscape picture of the welcome screen. Pressing on enter reveals that Jungkook doesn’t have a password for the computer, and a moment later his Steam library appears in front of your eyes.

Obviously he’s got every game you can imagine, and you don’t have time to go through the whole library before he’s out, ready to give you the tour. And the rest of the condo is just as impressive as Jungkook’s bedroom is, though the whole thing feels… empty. Void of life. Which, you assume it is considering his parents don’t live here most of the time, and his brother owns a city house with his fiancée. 

Your favourite part ends up being the kitchen, even though you don’t cook. But who wouldn’t like the beauty of the marble counters, of the white cupboards and of the impressive glass chandelier that hangs over the long dinner table?

You end up sitting on a stool at the island, watching Jungkook as he moves through the kitchen. He finds instant noodles in the pantry, and he comes out of it with a wide grin on his lips.

“Found dinner,” he says.

You laugh. “You’ve got such a nice kitchen and all you’ll cook are some instant noodles?”  

He narrows his gaze at you. “You have a problem against instant noodles?”

You snort, shrugging your shoulders. “No.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but he drops it, focusing on making food for the two of you. It takes a few minutes, but he’s soon sitting next to you, two bowls of noodles wafting steam in front of you. It smells good, if not a bit spicy, and you grab the chopsticks he put out for you.

“Thanks for the food,” you tell him, flashing a grin to him that makes his features soften in a far too dangerous way for you.

So you look away, cheeks dusting in pink, and you start eating. Though the noodles are indeed spicy, you endure the burn, finding that you actually enjoy it a little bit. Maybe because it’s distracting you from the thought that you’re with your brother’s best friend - you ought to stop thinking about it anyway.

Here, Jungkook isn’t Taehyung’s best friend. Here, he’s just Jungkook, and you’re just you.

Saturday March 9th

You feel like an impostor. 

The venue for the engagement party is luxurious, nestled on the top floors of one of the many skyscrapers of Manhattan. The people in attendance are all dressed to the nines, as if trying to impress. 

Or you’re just impressed because you’ve never seen so many designer clothes in such a place before. 

The floor is made of shiny marble, the ceiling high. A huge, glass chandelier hangs from it, and multiple columns are decorated with shiny golden garlands. In one corner, in front of tall windows overlooking New York City, a photobooth is set up, but you’ve remained clear of it so far.

You and Jungkook are both aware that you can’t risk having pictures of you taken. Not when they could easily be found by Taehyung, or by other people from back at college.

Like Ria, who questioned you for hours when you said you were going to spend the weekend in New York…

You know you’ll be grilled when you get home, but you push that thought aside, much like you’ve been putting all thoughts of your regular life aside. Jungkook has been making it easy - his smile and laughter, ever so constant yesterday evening, has been grounding, and though he does seem anxious right now, he’s remained by your side, making sure to put you at ease.

You haven’t met his parents or brother yet, but he’s introduced to some cousins that approached you, some of them surprisingly only speaking Korean. Jungkook bridged the gap between you and them, translating when needed, and they have now moved to the refreshment table, adorned with a pyramid of champagne glasses you’ve imagined toppling over at least fifteen times since you’ve arrived.

You really do feel like an impostor at the sight of all the easy luxury. Of the Louboutin high heels, the Louis Vuitton purses, the expensive suits and dresses everyone is wearing. The vast room smells rich, and it truly isn’t your crowd.

“Smile, peach,” Jungkook says, nudging you with his elbow.

Your gaze slides to him, and as it’s been doing since you finished getting ready earlier, your breath catches in your throat. There’s just something about the pale pants and the light blue dress shirt he’s wearing that makes him seem even more attractive than you’ve always found him. Maybe it’s the way the fabric stretches on his chest, revealing his hard-earned muscles. Or maybe it’s the vulnerability in his gaze.

He doesn’t seem more comfortable than you in this crowd.

“You smile,” you throw back at him, and he immediately does, a low laugh shaking through him.

“Do you want something to drink?”

You look down at yourself, wincing. “I’m afraid I’ll ruin the dress.”

“So you’re just going to stand still the whole evening because you’re afraid to ruin your clothes?” he teases.

You clench your jaw, rolling your eyes. “Precisely.”

“Loosen up, peach,” Jungkook insists, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think maybe he needs you to.

Maybe he truly does need your support at this fancy party. So you find yourself accepting to get drinks, and you’re almost done with the first glass when Jungkook tenses next to you, freezing like a deer in headlights. 

His doe eyes are on the doors, and you look in the direction to see an older woman and man walking in, the woman’s hand on her husband’s arm. You see a little bit of Jungkook in them - the woman’s eyes are Jungkook’s, and the man has the same nose and lips - so you immediately know that they are Jungkook’s parents.

The woman scans the room, and her eyes stop on you. In the distance it’s hard to tell if she looks happy to see her son - she barely even reacts, though she tugs her husband in your direction. You glance to Jungkook, but he really does seem frozen.

“Are you okay?” you ask, resting a hand on his arm.

He startles, toying with his piercings with his tongue before nodding curtly. “All good.”

You look towards his parents, and they’ve already crossed half of the room.

“Is that…” you trail off, knowing how rhetorical the question is.

“Yep.”

“What should I do?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

His eyes snap to you, and they’re void of the warmth you usually recognize in them. They’re like chips of ice - empty, cold, and something aches in your chest.

“Just be yourself.”

You offer him a small smile. His gaze is quick to drop to it, and you see the moment it warms. You see the moment he realizes he’s not alone, not right now, even though this is all but a subterfuge.

You’re not his girlfriend, but you’ll sure as hell try to be the best friend you can be for him right now.

“Jungkook,” his mother says as she stops in front of you, and your gaze slides to her.

She looks regal, standing ramrod straight with a steely look on her face. She spares you a quick glance, cocking an eyebrow before resuming her attention on Jungkook.

“Mother,” Jungkook replies in the same cold, formal tone.

“Glad to see you came around and decided to come.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “I wanted to introduce Y/n to the family.”

Heart beating out of your chest, you look up to Jungkook, observing the firm set of his jaw. He seems determined, like a man going into battle, and you wonder if that is what it is.

If Jungkook brought you here to rile his family up.

His mother finally truly takes you in, her eyes skimming over you. “I don’t think we know each other,” she says, and there is so much contempt in her voice you furrow your brow.

“I don’t think so,” you answer, trying to sound as polite as you possibly can. You bow your head, meeting her gaze when you straighten. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jungkook’s father pats his wife’s hand. She lets him go, almost reluctantly, and he walks away, heading to a group of men that seem far too happy to see him.

You wonder if you should take offence to him walking away when you just tried to introduce yourself, though the way Jungkook is staring at his mother lets you know that the true opponent of this battle is the woman in front of you, and not the man that just left.

“Likewise,” she replies, and this time she doesn’t hide the contempt from her voice at all. It drips to her features, and she scrunches up her nose in disgust, looking down at the high heels you’re wearing.

A simple pair of high heels you’ve bought for your high school prom, that you’ve been reusing whenever you have the occasion.

“Nice shoes,” Jungkook’s mother says, and you can tell that she means it as an insult. 

You clench your jaw, cocking an eyebrow as you get ready to reply, but Jungkook intervenes with a stern, “Mother.”

“You thought dressing her up in a nice dress would make us forget that she’s not from our class?”

The insult is stark, and you widen your gaze as your heart rate spikes, your blood heating up in your veins.

“Excuse me?” you let out, unable to resist.

Jungkook’s mother meets your gaze. “At least she’s got a tongue on her.”

“And I’ll ask you to make a fucking effort for once,” Jungkook spits.

She frowns. “Do not curse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”

He laughs, a short, dry sound that makes the hair dress on your arms. She clenches her jaw, a muscle feathering under the skin, and you wonder where Jungkook learned to be warm. Where he learned to smile like he’s lighter than a feather, like he’s never known any atrocities. Because standing here, you realize just how cold his upbringing must have been like.

And it’s strange. The little boy in the picture on his bedside table was all smiles, eyes crinkling with joy. You’d assumed the picture had been taken by his parents, but now that you’ve met his mother, you highly doubt she’s ever been the source of a smile on Jungkook’s lips.

While you’ve been thinking, Jungkook and his mother were stuck in a staring contest, a battle of will that Jungkook wins. Indeed, his mother sighs deeply and then turns towards you again.

“Where do you come from?” she asks.

You gulp under the scrutiny of her gaze, yet give her the answer.

“What do your parents do for a living?”

You tense, for that is an answer that even Jungkook doesn’t know. 

“My mother is a nurse,” you reply. You feel Jungkook’s curious gaze on your profile, but you resist glancing at him. “And I do not know my father.”

Jungkook’s mother blinks once, and then she focuses on her son. “Junghyun will be happy you came.”

She leaves without saying another word, and you’re left staring at her retreating form, wondering if it’s just you or if she’s the rudest person you’ve ever met.

“I apologize for this,” Jungkook says, and his arm drops from your shoulder.

You immediately miss it.

“I think I’m starting to get why you wanted me to come with you,” you say, and you finally meet his gaze.

He’s slightly pouting, lips barely jutting out, yet there’s something endearing about the expression on his features. “I honestly didn’t think she would be flat-out rude like that.” He downs what’s left of the champagne in his flute and then puts it down on the tray of a server as she walks past. “I promise we can go home as soon as Junghyun shows up and sees that I came.”

“We can stay longer too,” you reassure him. “I can handle the aristocracy.”

The frown on his features melts, and he lets out a small laugh. “The aristocracy?”

You nod. “Yeah. Because obviously we aren’t from the same class.”

“Fuck, peach,” he grumbles, shaking his head, yet there’s an amused sparkle in his gaze that makes you feel warm all of a sudden.

It’s like you forget all about his mother, and about his avoidant father. It soon becomes clear that he is avoiding Jungkook, not you, and you feel bad for the man beside you. 

He deserves a family that treats him better than the one he has, or so you believe. And it’s not like you know them at all - the dynamic is just off, and it’s unlike what you’ve personally known growing up.

If you forget about the fact that you don’t have a father and that your mother worked so much while you were growing up that you barely saw her.

Junghyun and his fiancée show up an hour later, fashionably late. You and Jungkook have been drinking more, and you feel buzzed from the alcohol, warmth swimming through your body. It’s only amplified every time you meet Jungkook’s gaze, every time he tugs you a little closer, and you think you’ll be drunk by the end of the evening, just because of him.

He’s inebriating after all.

Junghyun notices his brother across the space, and unlike his parents, his face breaks into a large grin, one that resembles that of Jungkook, and he immediately makes his way towards you. He’s much more relaxed than his parents, with an easy going vibe to him, and the way Jungkook relaxes makes you think that Junghyun, contrary to his parents, is not an asshole.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Junghyun says as he stops in front of you, immediately pulling Jungkook into a tight embrace.

Jungkook beams under the attention of his older brother. “I thought it’d be a good surprise.”

“It sure is,” Junghyun agrees as he pulls away. His eyes slide to you, and you offer him a tentative smile that he easily reciprocates. “And you are?”

“My girlfriend,” Jungkook says before you have time to say your name. “From college.”

Junghyun nods, meeting your gaze again. “Nice to meet you.”

You echo the sentiment as his fiancée - Nara - stops next to Junghyun, politely greeting Jungkook. 

You end up speaking with the pair for a little while. They both are a lot more welcoming than Jungkook’s parents, and Jungkook seems to be vibrating with happiness by the time they have to move away, needing to greet the other guests in the room. Meanwhile the sun has set outside, and you take a moment to admire the view as Jungkook goes to grab a refill for you both.

“I must admit he has a lot of nerves to bring you here,” a voice says next to you, and you turn to notice his mother, her arms folded on her chest.

Though your heart skips a painful, anxious beat in your chest, you only face the world outside again. “And why is that?”

She scoffs. “He’s technically engaged to someone.”

The world stops turning, and you glance at his mother. She sports a small, wicked smile, like she knows Jungkook didn’t tell you.

“What do you mean?” you can’t help but ask, your hands turning clammy.

She shrugs. “His father and I have discussed it with another family. We’ve deemed it better if they marry.”

“Does he even know her?” you spit.

She chuckles condescendingly. “Look at you. You really think you fit in our world? Your mother clearly hasn’t raised you for it.”

You fully face Jungkook’s mother, nails digging in your palms as you clench your fists. “I’ll have you know that my mother raised me well, and raised me to know privilege where it is. Just because you happened to be born rich doesn’t make you any better.”

Her gaze widens, and you see Jungkook walking back towards you, two glasses of champagne in hands. He notices his mother, a muscle feathering under the skin of his jaw, and you don’t care to stay next to her before you start heading his way.

You meet in the middle of the room, and you wonder if your vision has grown blurry. You only understand your eyes have filled with tears when Jungkook curses under his breath, glaring at his mother over your head.

“What did she tell you?” he asks, voice gentle.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you lie, blinking the tears away.

But she didn’t tell you nothing, did she? 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes. “She’s…”

“It’s whatever,” you insist, interrupting him. “I just want to spend time with you.”

You just want to spend time with him because you’ve learned he’s technically engaged, if his mother wasn’t lying.

Does he even know it?

You successfully blink your tears away as Jungkook hands you a champagne glass, which you down in one long gulp.

“I’m flattered, peach,” he teases.

The champagne bubbles down your throat, and you swallow with a scrunch of your nose. When you’ve finished the glass, you hand it back to Jungkook, who takes it with one eyebrow cocked. He looks like he wants to say something, but then his brother starts to speak with a mic. The room ushers to silence, forcing everyone to listen to the speech. Jungkook’s frowning, eyes still on you, but after a few seconds he turns to look at his brother.

You wish you’d be able to listen to the speech, to focus on it, but all you can do is keep on blinking back the tears from snapping at Jungkook’s mother.

Here’s to making bad first impressions. 

And it’s not like it truly matters - you’re not even Jungkook’s real girlfriend. You’re just a friend, someone he brought along as a shield from his family. 

Or so you’re starting to realize. You can’t even blame him. If your mother was remotely similar to his, you’d always make sure to go home with someone to support you. 

The least you can do is be that for Jungkook.

When Junghyun finishes his speech, his fiancée moves closer to him, and they share a sweet embrace that looks a little too practiced for it to be genuine. Or it might just be you - if it had been you in their position, you’re pretty sure you would have wanted to kiss your fiancé stupid. But then again, you reckon it might be improper in this social class.

Jungkook’s mother might have a point - you really weren’t raised to know how to act around rich people.

Except Jungkook, that is, but that’s because you didn’t know he was rich before yesterday, and you doubt he cares anyway.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asks as servers start walking around with different appetizers, all of them looking far fancier than anything you’ve eaten in your life.

“Huh,” you let out as one of the servers stops next to you. “What’s this?” 

“Crab cakes,” the server answers, flashing you a quick, polite smile.

You glance at Jungkook. “I’m allergic to seafood.”

He snorts, and then wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go find something that doesn’t have seafood in it.”

You end up finding small vegetarian burgers, and though they are barely bite-size, you enjoy a couple of them despite their dryness. It’s not enough to satiate your hunger, and especially not enough for Jungkook, so when he suggests going out to a restaurant nearby, you jump on the occasion to say yes.

“Then wait for me here,” Jungkook indicates, and to your surprise he kisses your forehead before slipping away, heading towards where you can see his brother and father conversing. While he speaks to them, probably explaining that you’re going to go eat somewhere else, you admire the view again.  Cars zoom down in the streets below, each and every one of them carrying a different person with their own little life.

You feel small so high over the city. It’s sobering, and you feel like your mind is clearing from the buzz of the alcohol, from the remnants of the guilt you had for snapping at Jungkook’s mother. 

You glance over your shoulder, eyeing Jungkook as he stands as if frozen, his brother speaking in his ear. Junghyun slides his gaze to you, and you offer him a tentative smile that the man ignores. You’d even think that his eyes harden, but it’s hard to tell in the distance. Especially as he pulls away from Jungkook, claps his shoulder once and then walks away, his father in tow.

Jungkook doesn’t move for a few seconds, and you wonder what it is that Junghyun said. Because the moment Jungkook turns and you see the look on his face, you know it must have been something harsh.

Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. It’s so vulnerable, so different from his usual cocky persona that you immediately make your way towards him.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

Jungkook just blinks looking at you, his eyes shining from unshed tears. You grab his hand, squeezing once, forgetting all about his mother being an asshole to you. No, all there is right now is Jungkook, and you want to make sure he finishes this evening with a smile on his face.

He deserves it after all.

“Hey, so where’s that restaurant you mentioned?” you query, switching tactics. 

Jungkook keeps looking at you for a few seconds, but he soon blinks a couple of times more, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He pulls you behind him in the crowd, and you don’t know what look he has on his face, but people literally jump out of the way. He’s walking quickly, and you struggle to follow him, but you know he needs to leave.

You’ve seen the sorrow in his gaze, and you don’t blame him for wanting to get away. Indeed, you just want to flee in the night too, and you’re thankful the moment the elevator doors slide to a close after you’ve retrieved your coats, and you’re finally left in a quiet silence of just you and him.

Jungkook looks at you, gaze heavy, and a second later he’s on you, hands cupping your cheeks as he backs you into the wall. You startle, yet you’re quick to melt in his touch, to kiss him back with the same intensity he offers you.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and you let him in, moaning softly as he drives his knee between your legs.

You didn’t expect him to kiss you. Especially not when nothing happened last night, some sort of awkwardness lingering in the air from being in his childhood room. But he kisses you languidly, all tongue and lips, his piercings pressing indents in your lower lip, and warmth pools at your core as the elevator goes down and down.

Anyone could walk in and catch you kissing, yet it doesn’t deter Jungkook, and neither does it deter you. Indeed, it only spurs you more, and your hands drop to his waist so that you can pull him closer.

The moment ends when the door slides open to reveal the ground floor, and Jungkook steps away from you, eyes dark with lust and shadows you don’t want to interpret. He smooths his shirt, offers you a tight-lipped smile that makes your heart clench in your chest, and then he’s walking out.

You’re quick to follow him, cheeks burning as someone at the reception eyes the two of you. You ignore them, hoping they can’t see how your lips are swollen from the kiss, and you all but have to jog to catch up with Jungkook by the time he reaches the doors.

He holds it open for you, yet you can’t meet his gaze as you step outside. Not when the engagement party was such a shitshow, not after he kissed you like that only to leave without saying anything.

The bustle of the New York City life engulfs you as you step out on the street, Jungkook in tow. To your surprise, his large hands close around yours, and you glance up to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry about…” he trails off, motioning over his shoulder.

You purse your lips. “About kissing me?”

The shadows partially lift in his gaze, warmth replacing them. “I’m not sorry about that at all,” he teases. “But I meant, about my family.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “I’m happy I could be there with you.”

He remains silent for a few seconds of you holding each other’s gaze on the sidewalk, and then he cracks a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “What would I do without you, mmh?”

You laugh, and it sounds truer than it feels. “What would you do indeed?” you tease.

He chuckles, pulling you closer so that he can hug you. You wonder who needs it the most - him, or you? Because the second his arms wrap around you, you snake yours around his waist, hiding your face in his chest. He smells good - like Dior Sauvage, you think - and for a moment you just want to stay right here, in his arms.

Until his stomach grumbles, a low rumble against your cheek that makes you burst out laughing.

“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, looking up at him.

He meets your gaze, nodding once. “Peach, I’m fucking starving.”

That makes you laugh even more, lifting the heaviness of the atmosphere somehow, and it’s with a smile tickling your lips that you make your way to the restaurant - a kebab place on the first floor of another skyscraper. You eat your fill, laughing around with Jungkook, doing your best to keep the shadows out of his gaze.

But they never fully lift, and you’re not close enough to him to ask what his brother told him that upset him so much. 

Mostly, you’re not close enough to ask him if he’s truly supposed to marry someone, or if his mother just said that to scare you off. It’s like walking a tightrope, and you’re one wrong move from falling to your death.

Yesterday, you would have said that Jungkook would catch you but today, the haunted look that creeps up on his gaze once in a while makes you think that perhaps he wouldn’t catch you at all. And though it saddens you, you don’t say anything.

You’ll have a better occasion later. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as Jungkook loosely holds your hand after the restaurant, while you walk around aimlessly. He’s telling you stories about growing up, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he occasionally falls eerily silent, you’d think that he’s happy right now. He looks the part, beaming at you whenever your gazes connect, and it’s too easy to reciprocate.

You think it’s a good thing - you’re comfortable with Jungkook, even if the whole engagement party was weird. It only gets better when you near a club, and Jungkook stops with a mischievous look in his eyes that finally looks a lot more like the Jungkook that you know from college.

“Do you want to go clubbing?” he says.

You snort. “It’s not even nine pm.”

“And?” he presses.

“You want to go clubbing this early?”

He shrugs, grabbing your hand again to pull you towards the doorman. “We can sit and chat before the party starts.”

As a matter of fact, the party is already started inside the club. Indeed, it’s like you step in an alternate universe the moment you walk in, the crowd thick as they sway to the beat. You only understand that it’s a concert of some famous DJ when you’re stopped at the coat check because you don’t have any tickets.

To your luck, the girl informs you that there are a few tickets left, and you insist on paying since Jungkook bought you the overpriced dress you’re wearing.

The one you’ll likely ruin while partying.

The thought sobers you a little, up until Jungkook, buzzing with excitement, pulls you towards the bar after you’ve left your coats at the coat check.

“This is going to be fun,” he says over the loud music. 

You nod, though your mind is lingering somewhere back at the engagement party. “Are you okay?” you can’t help but ask.

Jungkook falls serious, clenching his jaw once. “It’s about my family, isn’t it?”

“Yes and no,” you say, worrying at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Tonight has been… weird.”

It’s unfortunately your turn to order, as the barman stops in front of you, and Jungkook quickly orders two gin and tonic for you both before resuming his attention on you.

“I know,” he agrees. “Family events are always weird around here.” He winces, shrugging his shoulders. “And if you want to speak about it, we can tomorrow. But right now I really just want to have a nice evening with you.”

He looks hopeful, lips jutting out in the trace of a pout, and his doe eyes hold so much softness you find yourself folding immediately.

He’s right - you want to have a nice evening with him too, and forget the shitshow that the engagement party was.

“Well then,” you say, offering him a corner smile that hints at mischief. “I hope you’re ready to party.”

He brightens, like the stars shining when there’s no light pollution. “Damn right, peach.”

The barman puts your drinks on the bar, and Jungkook hands you your glass. You grab the lime on the rim of the glass, squeezing it in the drink properly before dropping it amongst the ice cubes. Jungkook watches you, mirroring you after a few seconds.

“To partying,” you say, raising your glass.

Jungkook echoes, clinking his glass with yours and you both drink, the alcohol fresh and cold on your tongue. 

You linger by the bar long enough to finish your first drinks, talking about everything and nothing. By the time you’re taking your last sip, Jungkook is reminiscing about a party last semester, where Taehyung had tried hitting on a girl only to get rejected.

“He complained about it for weeks,” you remember. “Even though he was sleeping with…” You frown, unable to remember the girl’s name. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Jungkook laughs. “Tae fucks around too much to remember everyone, I know.”

“As if you’re any better,” you tease, pushing him playfully.

He pouts, eyebrows bunching together as his doe eyes narrow. “I’m better now.”

“Are you?”

He moves closer to you, and your heart trips on itself in your chest as he rests his large hand on your waist, pulling you closer. “I definitely am.”

You don’t know who makes the move first. You just know that a second later, you’re cupping Jungkook’s cheeks, and his lips are on yours again. This time, he tastes of gin and lime, and a swipe of his tongue on your lower lip makes you sigh, your hands sliding to the back of his head to get lost in his soft hair. His hand rests flat on your back, as if to keep you from stepping away.

Like you would.

You don’t ever want to step away from Jungkook. Tonight, you think it doesn’t matter that he’s Taehyung’s best friend. It doesn’t matter that he is supposedly engaged to someone else. Right now, it feels like he’s yours - you’re foolish enough to believe that he is.

“Let’s dance,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours.

“Let’s grab something else to drink first.”

You grab Jungkook’s hand, pulling him closer to the bar again. He follows, his thumb soothingly rubbing circles on the back of your hand, and he doesn’t let go when you lean against the bar, attracting the barman’s attention.

“Are you up for some Jager bombs?” you suggest.

He smirks, looking downright devilish with the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’d never say no to Jager Bombs.”

That’s how you find yourself downing two shots each, and you’re getting pretty tipsy by the time the show starts, and Jungkook pulls you onto the dancefloor. You dance and dance, the atmosphere electric, Jungkook’s laugh so contagious you think you might have caught a happy disease. Because you can’t stop smiling, you can’t stop laughing. 

It’s like the engagement party never happened and frankly, it’s what you needed. 

Jungkook pulls you closer in the middle of the crowd, kissing you languidly. You’re quick to kiss him back, to push your tongue in his mouth the moment his lips part to allow entry. He grunts in the kiss, in the intensity that takes on the two of you even though you’re in public.

You want him so bad. You’ve always wanted him badly, but right now it’s making your blood sing in your veins.

But the evening is young still, and so you return to dancing, your back pressed against Jungkook. You sway your hips to the beat of the music, and he guides your motions, head hanging low. He occasionally presses soft kisses on the side of your face, and your eyes flutter shut in contentment.

If you’d die right now, you think you’d die happy.

“Peach,” Jungkook whispers.

Your eyes flutter open as you glance at him. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel smaller than a speck of dust. “What?”

“Should we go home?” he asks.

You glance towards the scene, where the DJ is clearly in the middle of his set. “The show’s not over yet.”

“I know.” He nips at your jaw, and you tilt your head to the side to allow him access to your neck. He’s quick to press an open-mouthed kiss there.

You turn in his hold, finding his lips again. This kiss is hotter, like fire blazing bright, and you, too, want to head home. You want to get lost in him, in this moment of him being yours out in public like this.

“Fuck, JK,” you whisper when you pull away, breathing raggedly.

“What?”

“Kissing you like this, where anyone can see…” you trail off, glancing at the crowd.

Nobody is paying you any attention, yet you feel like you’re the center of the universe right now. Or maybe that’s Jungkook - he’s the center of your universe.

“It’s turning me on,” you finish in a breathy sentence meant just for him.

“Peach,” he says, voice low and husky. It ignites even more warmth inside of you, and you think you’re about to melt in his touch. “Then I’ll bring you here more often. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine, mmh?”

That you’re mine. You like the sound of those words in his mouth far too much, even though part of you wants to reply that you’re your own self, and don’t belong to anyone.

Perhaps you want to belong to him, and that in and of itself is a far too dangerous thought. But New York shines tonight, and you feel infinite.

You are infinite, as long as he’s by your side.

You stay for the rest of the DJ’s set, despite you both wanting to go home. Jungkook is touchy, yet respectfully so as you dance, never really touching you where you want him, but his hands lingering near every fiery spot in your body. The Uber ride home is spent in tense silence, as is the walk up to the elevators of his building.

He holds your hand through it all, refusing to let go, and you like it.

You like everything about this moment, right now. Like you’ve stepped into an alternate universe where you really are his, and you pray you’ll never have to leave.

The elevator doors slide open, and Jungkook pulls you in. You’re disappointed when you notice a middle-aged woman already riding the elevator from the underground parking lot, and Jungkook politely nods to her as he presses the button for the highest floor.

Fortunately, the woman gets off on the eighth floor, and you’re left alone with Jungkook. He’s quick to spring into action, pushing you back against the wall so that he can steal a languid kiss of tongues and lips, of getting lost in him until you fully lose touch with reality.

“Fuck,” you breathe as Jungkook leaves a trail of hot kisses from your jaw to your neck. 

He sucks a hickey below your ear, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you drag your hands through his hair, leaving it dishevelled.

The doors of the elevator slide open, and Jungkook startles, taking a step back from you. One glance down reveals the proof of his attraction for you, and you really are aflame, burning from the inside out.

“I need to take a shower,” you say. 

A cold, cold shower, before you combust irreparably.

“Okay,” Jungkook lets out, and he grabs your hand again to pull you to the door. 

You don’t know how he does it, but he refrains from kissing you when you’re in. You’d expected him to jump on you - you practically wanted him to - but Jungkook, ever so the gentleman, only leads you inside and to his room. 

You take in the city skyline, the beauty of being so high you feel like you’re flying. The city sparkles, lights shining on and on, and you glance at Jungkook.

His eyes shine with undiluted lust and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You just know it’s ten thousand times better than the shadows that had lingered in his gaze after the engagement party, and you want to cling to it.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” you suggest as he helps you out of your coat.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he teases, flicking your nose.

He’s your Jungkook again, and an excited thrill goes through you. 

“Yes,” you say, smirking. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll wash your back.”

He narrows his gaze, though his lips curve upwards. “I’m always nice.” He puts your coat away in the walk-in wardrobe, emerging without his own coat, too.

“Are you?”

You let out a yelp as he bends to pick you up bridal style. “Always,” he says, pecking your cheek once as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you grumble as he carries you to the bathroom, putting you down on the counter. 

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he teases, and he steals a quick kiss on your lips before stepping away from you to turn on the shower.

You watch him as he does so - he’s beautiful, with his dishevelled hair and big doe eyes he casts on you as he glances over his shoulder. He’s still smiling, his features so soft you can’t help but smile back, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“How hot do you want the shower to be?” he asks.

You smirk. “What kind of hot are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes, though his light laugh fills the air. “Water temperature, dummy.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Just put it how you like it.”

He nods, and he does so, adjusting the settings until the multiple shower heads are on, and steam soon starts to waft out of the shower.

Jungkook walks back to you, toying with his piercings. You scan his features, lingering on his eyebrow piercing, and then spread your thighs so that he can step between your legs. He does so, wrapping his arms around your middle, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He picks you up, putting you down on the floor. “Gotta get you out of your dress, mmh?”

Your heart once again hitches in your chest, and goosebumps rise on your arms as Jungkook lightly brushes his fingers up your skin.

“Turn around, peach,” he tells you.

You obey, and you watch yourself in the mirror as Jungkook unzips your dress. There’s something so intimate about the moment that your pulse skyrockets, butterflies making a mess of your stomach.

Jungkook finishes unzipping the dress, and he pushes it off your shoulders, pressing a kiss on the naked skin he’s revealed on the back of your shoulder. You feel apprehensive, like he hasn’t seen you naked before, and you gulp as he lets go of the dress, and it falls to the floor to pool around your ankles.

“You know,” Jungkook breathes as you shiver, the air colder than you expect. Your nipples perk on your chest, and Jungkook is quick to wrap his arms around you so that he can tease the sensitive buds with his fingers. “Every time I see you, you get more beautiful.”

“Jk…” you breathe out, cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s true,” he insists. He turns you around, his eyes lost in yours. “There’s something about you…” he trails off.

He never finishes the sentence as you stand on your tiptoe, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt. Your mouths collide, and you sigh against the plump softness of him, kissing him softly, tenderly. He kisses you back just as softly, his hands holding you by the waist.

“Peach…” he sighs.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already looking at you, and you do feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he looks at you like that.

“I think you’re supposed to undress too,” you whisper.

He chuckles softly, taking a step back from you. “Wanna help?”

You gulp again, your throat feeling dry, yet you raise trembling hands in the space between you so that you can reach for the buttons of his shirt. You focus on the task at hand, on every inch of honey skin revealed by the buttons coming undone. Jungkook’s intense gaze doesn’t leave your face as you undress him, and soon you’re pushing his shirt off him, resting your hands flat on his chest.

His heart is racing under your palms, the only indication that this is affecting him just as badly as it’s affecting you.

You meet his gaze as he takes charge of taking off his pants, and soon they’re on the floor with your dress and his shirt, and you both stand in your underwear, gazes embracing.

“I’m so going to take my time with you tonight,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. His thumb gently swipes at your skin, and you instinctively lean your head into his palm.

“Yeah?” you let out.

He tilts your head back with a finger under your chin, and then he’s kissing you again, as if to prove it to you with actions rather than words. “Definitely,” he says the second he pulls away. And then his hands go down your body, slowly, finding the hem of your panties. “Can I take this off?”

You nod, and he drops to his knees. Your eyes widen, yet he only busies himself with taking your underwear off, helping you step out of it once it’s around your ankles. He gets up again after, and he pushes his boxers down.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the obvious bulge in his underwear, but his dick stands proud and tall the second you glance down, already leaking precum. 

He’s been wanting you badly, and it shows.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you breathe.

“I know,” he lets out. “I’m fucking hard for you.” He chuckles, and grabs your face to force you to meet his gaze again. “From the mess I saw in your panties, I know you’re already soaked for me too.” He pecks your lips, and then your forehead. “But shower first, right?”

You kiss again, and this time he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

“Shower first,” you repeat the second you pull away.

He smirks, winking at you, and then he walks over to the shower, leaving you there with your heart beating out of your chest. You take a deep breath, trying to tame the wild beats, and soon enough you follow Jungkook, right when he steps in the shower. He holds the glass door open for you, closing it behind you once you’re in, hot water splashing you.

You face Jungkook, and he looks at you with his head tilted to the side, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Pass me the soap?”

You nod, gulping, and you look away from him to find the soap. You grab it, handing it to Jungkook, and he gently takes it out of your hands.

“Turn around,” he tells you for the second time tonight. “I’ll wash your back.”

“Shouldn’t you start with my hair?” you ask.

He chuckles. “So bossy. Wet your hair then.”

You obey, and soon enough Jungkook is rubbing shampoo on your scalp, and your eyes flutter shut as you relax into the touch. He rinses your hair when he’s done, and then takes care of the conditioner.

“You like being pampered, don’t you?” he teases.

“Only if you’re the one pampering me,” you fire back. 

He laughs, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Then I guess I need to pamper you more.”

You’re falling. You know exactly what’s happening, and you wonder if he feels it too.

“Let me take care of you,” you say once Jungkook is done with washing your hair.

He smiles down at you, nodding once. “Okay.”

And so you wash him, cleaning his back first. You teasingly rub his ass, and Jungkook throws you a glare over his shoulder that makes you burst out laughing. Once you’re done he turns around, and you gently rub his chest, a smile still curving your lips upwards as you fall in comfortable silence.

He isn’t so hard anymore. Yet, when your hands get lower on his abdomen, his dick twitches, and he’s quick to get hard again. You cock an eyebrow, looking up at him.

“I barely touch you and this is how you react?” you tease.

He grabs your jaw, his grip firm. “And now you’ll clean my dick too, won’t you?”

You blush, nodding once as he lets go of your jaw to cup your cheek instead. You wrap a hand around the base of his dick, and then you stroke him once. His lips part, and he pulls on his piercings before looking down at himself. 

“Let me…” he trails off, and you nod, stepping away from him to let him clean himself. You quickly wash yourself as he does so, cheeks burning so much you wouldn’t be surprised if you were purple.

Once you’re both cleaned, you face Jungkook again, and he offers you a soft smile. Unable to resist, you look down at his dick, reaching for him again.

“Now that you’re clean…” you let out, and you smirk. “Maybe I can actually take care of you?”

You don’t know where the courage comes from, but you’re not going to waste it. Indeed, you immediately drop to your knees, and Jungkook redirects the shower heads away from your face.

“Yeah?” he lets out. “You want to suck me?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, and then you jerk him off once, eyes moving to his dick. It’s pretty, though not as hard as he was earlier, and you tentatively swirl your tongue around his tip, before sucking on it lightly.

Jungkook curses under his breath, leaning a hand against the wall as if looking for support. “Don’t be shy,” he says.

You smirk again, and this time you drag your tongue on the side of his dick, from base to top, before wrapping your lips around him again. You hollow your cheeks as you take most of him in your mouth, and Jungkook moans softly when he hits the back of your throat.

“Shit…” he lets out.

You suck harder as you pull almost all the way off, and then you truly get to work, eyes fluttering shut as you suck him, jerking him off in time with the motions of your head. Jungkook holds your head, letting you set the rhythm you feel comfortable with, and soon you’re moaning on his dick, the vibrations making him curse.

You take him all the way in, looking up at him despite the tears blinding your gaze. He’s got his head thrown back, lips parted as he breathes heavily, chest moving rapidly. You wonder if you’d be able to make him come like this, and you suck harder, holding in the gag reflex that’s threatening to interrupt your ministrations on him.

“Peach,” he moans, and then he pulls out of your mouth.

A string of spit connects his tip to your lips, and you’re quick to lick at it, to taste the precum that’s dripping from his slit.

“That feels good?” you ask.

He nods. “Way too much,” he replies, chuckling breathlessly. “I’m going to fall in love with your mouth if you keep sucking me like that.”

You don’t need more to spur you into action, and you go back to sucking him, pouring everything you have in the action. His dick gets harder and harder in your mouth, and you know he has to be close. So you tentatively tease his balls with your free hand, and he moans as you squeeze lightly.

“Peach,” he lets out, and it sounds whiny. “Stop. I want to fuck you now.”

You pull out, offering him an innocent pout as you keep jerking him off quickly. “You don’t think you’d be able to go for round two?”

He chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Not when I drank. And I really just want to make you feel good too.”

Only for that reason do you let him pull you up to your feet, and you reluctantly let go of his dick as he pushes you against the tile wall, mouth immediately finding yours in a ravaging kiss. You moan as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, and you go back to jerking him off, unable to keep your hands off him.

He hisses as he pulls away from the kiss, and then he glances towards his discarded pants on the floor beyond the glass door of the shower. “I have condoms in there,” he reveals, and then he meets your gaze again. “But you deserve better than to be fucked in a shower, mmh?”

You gulp, nodding once as he steals another quick kiss on your lips, and then he turns off the shower. You stand in the steam for a few seconds, holding each other’s gaze, and then Jungkook pulls you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you. 

You’re quick to dry yourself, lust and desire clouding your mind, and you don’t hesitate when Jungkook grabs your hand, pulling you towards his bedroom. The walk-in is cold as you step out of the bathroom, but you busy yourself with watching the strong muscles of his back, and the tattoos on his arm. It’s distracting enough, and soon Jungkook turns to face you again, kissing you deeply before pulling away.

“Do you want me to close the curtains?” he asks as he steps away from you, enough so that your eyes fall to his erection.

“You think people can see us?” you let out, casting a quick glance towards the tall windows, and the city beyond.

“Maybe, if they’re looking up here,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s never bothered me, but I’ve never been with anyone in this bed, so…”

Your gaze widens. “You’ve never fucked here?”

You think it’s blush creeping on his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve never brought a girl here at all.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry what?”

He winks at you, eyes going down your frame. They stop on your perked nipples, and he toys with his piercings.

“You’re the first girl who’s ever come here,” he says. “The first one I’ll fuck in this bed. And maybe I do want the city to see me fucking you. I want them to see how beautiful you are when you come.”

You’re speechless as he strolls towards you, and his mouth collides with yours, his lips moving like he’s a starved man against yours. He pushes you towards the bed, and you fall on it the second the back of your legs hit it. He looks at you, wetting his lips, and then winks.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappears back into the walk-in, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him as he retrieves a condom from his wallet. He inspects the tinfoil package on the way back, making sure that the condom is safe to use, and then he rips it open, pulling the condom out.

He puts it on, rolling it down his dick as you watch with your heart beating wildly again as it knows what’s to come.

No one has ever fucked you as good as Jungkook, and you can tell he won’t disappoint tonight either. No, the intensity in his gaze can’t be mistaken, and the second he kneels between your legs you spread your thighs wide open, offering yourself on a silver platter.

“Already?” he teases, and he strokes himself slowly. “I thought you’d need a little bit of foreplay before.”

“Trust me,” you let out. “I’m already wet enough for you to rearrange my guts.”

He smirks, and he moves closer, close enough to rub his dick on your folds. “You are.” He says it like he’s surprised, but the second he starts rubbing his dick on your clit you’re gone, unable to form logical thoughts. “So you want me to fuck you? To rearrange your guts?”

“Jungkook,” is all you can reply.

He teases your folds again, pushes in just enough for his tip to part them. “Tell me what you want, peach.”

“I want you,” you say, and you don’t care how whiny you sound.

You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you into oblivion.

“Where?” he asks, and he pulls away to rub his dick on your clit again.

You clench your jaw, reaching for his dick, but Jungkook is quick to grab your hand with his free one, pinning your wrist over your head.

“Be nice, mmh?” he says in your ear, and then he straightens.

“I want you inside of me, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” He pushes in, though he stops when just his tip is in. “Like this?”

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you grumble.

Jungkook laughs, and a second later he slams home, his dick splitting you open as he pushes almost all of himself inside of you. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, and he barely gives you time to adjust before he grabs your waist, and he starts pounding you, setting an unforgiving pace.

His thrusts are quick and hard, and you see stars almost immediately, your walls clenching around him. It doesn’t slow him down, only makes him readjust himself until he hits a better angle, and you moan loudly as he drags against the sweetest spot inside of you.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

He bends down, slowing just long enough to lean on his elbow, and then he holds your shoulders as he jackhammers into you again, so hard his bed bangs into the wall repeatedly.

There’s no one to hear you fucking here. And he knows it - it’s like he’s keen on rearranging your guts, and you’re a whining, moaning mess as he fucks you hard. You hold onto his back, nails digging in his skin and Jungkook grunts in your ears as his pace never falters.

You know he’s got good stamina, but tonight feels different, like he’ll fuck you until the sun rises.

“Shit, peach,” Jungkook lets out, and he pulls out of you so suddenly you’re left gasping for air.

“Wh-” you start, but he flips you over, repositioning himself so that he can push inside of you again. 

He doesn’t move right away, instead massaging your ass cheeks as your walls clench around his dick, begging for more. He slaps your ass, not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting, and you clutch the bed sheets, pushing your hips back into him.

“You want some control, mmh?” he asks, and he pulls back just enough to allow you more movement.

It doesn’t take you long before you take advantage of it, fucking yourself back on him, rolling your hips when he hits your cervix. 

“You’re so big,” you let out on a whine. “So deep.”

“And you take me so well, peach.” He slaps your ass again, massaging the sting away. “Like your pussy was made for me.”

“It was,” you reply right away.

Jungkook thrusts once, and you rock forward on the bed from the intensity of his motion. Luckily for you, he was holding your waist, and so his dick doesn’t leave you empty.

“Good girl,” he says, so low it sounds like a growl, and then he’s back to pounding inside of you, and you’re a mess, trying to hold yourself together as you clutch the sheets.

Jungkook leans on one hand, snapping his hips into you again and again, and he wraps his free hand under you, blindly searching for your clit. The second he touches the sensitive bundle of nerves you moan loudly again, and he doesn’t need more to start rubbing figures on you, quick circles that send you into orbit so fast you barely realize your orgasm has hit you until you come down from the high, legs shaking as your vision keeps going in and out of focus.

Jungkook stops moving for a few seconds, bending down to press a feathersoft kiss on the side of your face. “You came hard,” he states.

“Holy fuck,” is all you can reply.

“One day, I want to feel you come on my dick without a condom on,” he says, and then he’s fucking you again, though this time he’s clearly chasing his own high.

Yet it feels good, far too good, and you come again - did you actually stop coming in the first place - as he rams his hips into yours. Jungkook milks it out of you, whispering filthy praises to you all along, and once he’s sure you’ve calmed down, he pulls out, flipping you on your back again.

He steals a kiss on your lips as he pushes in again, and this time he fucks you slower, deeper, lips never leaving yours. You lose trembling hands in his hair, run them along his back, and you wrap your legs around his waist for him to fuck you deeper. He doesn’t disappoint, and you take all of him in you as he pushes in, and then pulls almost all the way out.

“I’ll fall in love with your pussy,” Jungkook whispers against you. 

He rests his forehead against yours, and your heart fills with far too many emotions - none you can voice. 

“JK…”

“Peach,” he answers in the same tone, and then he kisses you again. The second he breaks from the kiss he straightens, going back to kneeling between your legs. “Now be nice and let me come, mmh?”

“Come for me.”

“On it.”

You don’t know when he comes. All you know is that you’re swimming in far too much bliss when he starts fucking you hard again, and you lose touch with your body. It’s like you’re floating somewhere close to the ceiling, or maybe amongst the stars up above. You’re floating, and Jungkook grunts and curses as he fucks you, his motions growing sloppier, and soon he stills deep inside of you, hands holding your waist as he releases loads and loads of cum in the condom.

You wish he’d come inside of you so you’d feel it drip out of you when he pulls out. It’s a dirty thought to have, yet you can’t help it - not when you’re literally swimming in ecstasy, feeling like you’re buzzing.

Jungkook lies down next to you, resting a hand on your stomach as you try to regain your breath. It takes you a while - long enough for him to kiss the side of your face and promise he’ll be back as he disappears in the bathroom - but you do come down from the high, the bedroom and the city beyond the windows finally coming back into focus.

It’s raining. You didn’t realize it before, but raindrops are racing each other on the window, and you get lost admiring the view as Jungkook cleans himself in the bathroom.

He comes back with a wet washcloth for you to clean yourself, and you thank him as he offers it to you. You know you have to go pee before you sleep though, so you brave the walk to the bathroom, legs feeling like jelly under you. You manage to make it to the bathroom and back, and Jungkook welcomes you back into bed with a tired smile on his lips.

“Come here,” he says, and he opens his arms for you to nestle in his embrace.

You do so, pushing one leg between his as you wrap one arm around his waist.

“Feeling okay?” Jungkook asks.

“I think I’ll need weeks to recover,” you tease, and Jungkook’s answering laugh makes you feel like you’re the luckiest girl in the universe.

“Does that mean I can’t fuck you for a few weeks?” he asks, and you hear the pout in his voice.

It makes you smile against him.

“Mmmh,” you let out. “Nah, I want you to fuck me like this again tomorrow.”

He laughs again, and his arms tighten around you. “Then we better get a good night of sleep. We need to drive back home tomorrow.”

Back home. Together. Because, even if he’s Taehyung’s best friend, which you’ve conveniently forgotten all weekend, he’s also your roommate.

You share a home, and you think there’s beauty in that thought.

You yawn, nuzzling your face in his chest. “I don’t know about you but I’ll sleep like a rock.”

“And snore?”

“I don’t snore,” you answer, frowning slightly.

Jungkook chuckles and then kisses the top of your head. “You snore a little. Not as much as me though.”

“Tell me about it,” you complain, even though his soft snores had acted like white noise yesterday, helping you fall asleep despite the unfamiliar environment.

He yawns, pulling even closer. “Peach?”

You hum in answer.

“Thank you for this weekend,” he whispers. “I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, wanting to argue.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You’re…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, and you pull away just enough so that you can look up at his face. “I’m what?”

“You’re you,” he answers, as if that explains anything.

And when you see the softness clinging to his gaze, you think maybe it does.

Prev | Chapter 8.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

my two precious babies gosh we need to protect them at all costs fr :') did you guys like this chapter? Let me know what you think!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[plumipal]

AAAAAOMG UR TWST OC IS SO ADORABLE?? i'm absolutely in love with eden sm (+ his design?? the star eyes and the wings are my favorite,, i wanna smooch all his tattoos!) and i hope it's okay to ask a few questions about him... (I KNOW U SAID IT WAS OKAY BUT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE 😭 i'm genuinely interested in knowing more!)

1) does he have anyone in the twst cast that he tolerates/likes? i know he's part of the whole harem thing but is there anyone he doesn't necessarily mind being around (or even sharing with the prefect?)

2) do grim and eden have a good relationship? i would assume so since they're living both with one another but do they just get along with each other for the prefect's sake or are they actually best buds? (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

(little dumb idea but i think it would be so cute if the prefect treated the two as if they were all like a little family! eden and prefect being the two parents and grim their rambunctious kid lmao,, i would imagine the others not being so happy about it (っ‘ω`c))

3) is he okay with physical affection/pda? is he totally chill about it or would he rather shy about the whole thing? is he open to having the prefect touch his wings or his tattoos?

4) oooo any funfacts that you have about the new ramshackle resident?? just in general really if that's okay with u ofc!! ☆

aa okay that's it!! i hope my questions weren't annoying or anything! (っ‘ω`c)

Had to get one of those wheels ive seen going around where you put the oc and how they feel about the character and how the characters feel back about them, but with a twist lol (most of them are haters).

The ones he are most tolerant with are grim, ace, deuce, jack and kalim. Only one he could possible share with would either be kalim, jack or deuce, because of how he sorta is annoyed by ace.

Of course cant forget how he feels about you :) he thinks you are very very very special and he loves you a lot <3

He likes grim a lot, seeing as grim isn't one of the students that is oh so annoying. He warms up to the monster, seeing how gently you take care of grim, wanting to do the same. It feels, domestic, in his opinion.

Grim likes Eden a lot too, he has never belittled him, he has always made sure to feed grim along with Eden being very warm (and therefore very nice to sleep on). In grims opinion, he thinks you should go with Eden, cuz he is a good candidate for marriage (grim has been bribed with love, affection, and tuna).

He takes good care of the cat son, making sure he is healthy and happy.

Now onto pda. Eden are only okay with you touching the wings, the tattoo and the core, being as they are quite sensitive. The scar is still off limits, but maybe if you make him warm up to you even more you might be able to-

He loves when you help him with his wings, it's one of the best feelings out there. Fo mind that only you (and grim) can touch the wings, anyone else is off limits, ESPECIALLY ROOK HE IS FORBIDDEN TO TOUCH THEM.

Eden facts!! He has lil "ear-holes" like birds, just behind the feathers. Be careful around that part when you help him with his feathers, otherwise you might have a pouty and angry Eden on tour hands.

His eyes also glow in the dark! It's the scariest during the nightly snack runs down to the kitchen, seeing him suddenly stare at you, but you slowly get used to it!

You don't know where the extra eyes sometimes come from tho...

Also some general facts about Eden!

Dorm: Ramshackle

Birthday: 1/1

Age: ???

Height: 185cm

Fav subject: alchemy

Hobby: cleaning in ramshackle, birdwatching

Likes: you

Dislikes: Loud noises, blond 3rd year hunters named rook hunt, people trying to grab onto his wings that aren't you

Fav food: he don't need to eat to gain sustenance, bur he likes mashed potatoes with gravy

Least fav food: soup, any soup, he hates it

Btw if anyone were to write for Eden I would explode it would mean the world to me

[clarkeysbedchem]

whatever happens, i’m letting it | part ten

previous part | next part

will lenney x fem reader

summary: will falls for chris’ new assistant

masterlist | main masterlist

The shoot had wrapped quicker than expected, mostly because Chris decided that the video wasn’t going to end any other way, which also meant that he thought everyone was taking shit shots.

You weren’t complaining though — because it meant you were back in your flat by late afternoon, curled up on the couch with a blanket, getting stuck into your new book with Kovu and Scar purring in your side, when your phone buzzed with a message from the group chat.

flo: Emergency wine night. I have gossip.

you: this is exactly what is needed, come to mine!

liv: Be there in 20. Sab, you in?

sab: You had me at “wine”

By 8PM, the four of you were sprawled around your living room. Liv was curled up under your fluffiest blanket, glass of white wine in hand. Sabina had kicked her shoes off the second she walked in and was already halfway through the crisps. Flo was perched at the edge of the couch like she couldn’t wait to explode with whatever drama she’d come armed with.

“So,” Flo said, twirling her glass with an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, “before I hijack the entire evening, and I will, why do you stink of man?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

You blinked, “I do not,” lifting your arm to sniff yourself, “Okay, I do.”

Liv grinned knowingly. “You stayed at Will’s.”

You tried to play it cool — but the second you nodded, all three of them leaned in expectantly.

Sabina’s eyes widened, “Okay, spill. What happened? Are we still in ‘casual situationship’ territory, or has it crossed into the forbidden land of Actual Feelings?”

You gave a helpless sort of smile, the kind that came from trying to keep a lid on something that was already bubbling over, “It was just… nice? Like, stupidly nice. I woke up and he was still asleep, and his arm was around me, and,” you paused, looking down at your glass shyly, “and he offered to feed the cats.”

There was a collective gasp.

“He offered?” Liv asked, with a grin, “Like, unprompted?”

“He literally said, ‘I can go feed Scar and Kovu.’ Like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

Flo squealed almost dropping her wine as she flung her arms, “That’s so domestic. That’s ‘we’re practically living together’ behaviour.”

“I know,” you said, cheeks warming. “And then he made me coffee. Remembering exactly how I like it. Drove me to the shoot even though I said I’d get the tube. Just because he wanted to.”

Sabina let out a slow whistle, “Okay, this isn’t just casual anymore”

You laughed, half hiding your face by lifting up the hem of your hoodie to cover your cheeks, “It’s just, he’s like so unbothered by it. Like, none of this is a big deal to him. Like he’s already factored me into his life.”

Flo tilted her head, as gentle as always, “How do you feel about that?”

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips, “Like maybe, I want to be factored in.”

The room fell into a soft, giddy silence, broken only by Sabina whispering, “Oh my god, you like him.”

“Yeah.”

“You love him,” Liv added in a sing-song voice, nudging you with her foot.

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t deny it.

Flo reached over topping up your glass, “Alright. That settles it. You’re bringing him to the next girls night. We need to see if he actually passes the test.”

“Oh, god-”

“Nope. Too late. You’re doomed. You let him feed your cats. That’s basically marriage.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology

[mehwmidklpe]

JUST A PRANK

Connor Stoll x Aphrodite!Reader

It started with a little 'welcome to camp' prank, many years ago when you first got here.

It ended up worse.

You and Connor had shared a cabin for many years since you had been unclaimed for a long time. Between the pranks, the teasing and you scolding him for his pranks, you actually were pretty close.

Like when you'd wonder who your mother was he'd be like 'definitly not Aphrodite, maybe Athena cause you're hella smart and I wouldn't be suprised if you were a forbidden daughter of Artemis cause you're a freaking badass'

He was wrong.

Everyone was wrong.

You were indeed Aphrodite's daughter.

And ever since you left cabin 11, the pranks had been on a roll.

You'd wake up by the screams of yoru siblings, crying over their hair, you'd walk out of your cabin only to be covered in whipped cream and pink feathers, you'd be training in the arena, only open the box that normally had your weapons in it, but isntead being bombed with a glitter bomb, no weapons to be found.

You were sick of it.

Plus, you felt bad for your siblings for having to deal with this too.

In the past years you've grown closer to Silena, whenever she got pranked, you'd feel like it was your fault.

Anyways, you sat down at the dinning pavilion with Silena, but you were greeted by serious looks on the face of your siblings. "Good morning to you too?" You frowned. "Y/n.." Valentina started slowly. "Yes..?"

"This needs to stop. Connor's pranks. This is getting way out of hand." She continued before your other sister, Lacy spoke up. "And we're not saying this for ourselves, but for you. That boy just doesn't leave you alone." Then Silena nodded in agreement. "That is true. We care about you Y/n.."

A scoff could be heard from the hand of the table. "Speak for yourselves. His pranks are getting on my nerves. I even have a dimple from the stress. A dimple!" Of course it was Drew.

You rolled your eyes at her. "I'll talk to him." You assured your siblings before you went to take a bite of your food. Only when your fork touched it, your food exploded.

You let out a groan before looking over at the Hermes table, your eyes finding him.

Connor Stoll.

His eyes were already on you, but he quickly looked away.

Travis noticed. "Way to go, Con" He spoke at which Connor frowned. "What do you mean?" The boy asked. "Y/n. I thought you wanted to 'win her heart', right?" Travis asked.

"That's what I'm trying to do! But it won't seem to work!" The son of Hermes exclaimed. Travis rolled his eyes. "No shit. You keep pranking her. You're supposed to be the smarter one out of us, Con. Pranking Y/n 24/7 won't make her fall for you."

"Chris said it was."

Silence.

Travis patted Connor on his back, slowly shaking his own head.

"Chris was messing with you."

Oh dam you, Chris Rodriguez.

So later, Connor started thinking.

Maybe he should stop pranking you 24/7.

Maybe he should take you out on a nice date.

Maybe then you'd feel the same way he felt for you.

Oh. Never mind. You were way too busy with Leo Valdez.

Connor watched as you laughed with him. What did Leo have that he didn't? I mean Leo was funny, so was Connor! Leo was mischievous, so was Connor!

Your gaze went past Leo and landed on Connor. Why was he looking at you like that?

So when Leo left, you approached Connor. "What's your problem?" "My problem? I don't have a problem, just enjoying this fine evening at Camp." The Stoll tried to play it cool. You weren't buying it. "Connor, I'm being for real, your pranks need to stop." "Too bad I don't wanna stop." He shrugged.

You scoffed at that. "You're not funny Connor. Your pranks are stupid, they're getting sloppy and old. You always do the same pranks, it's getting boring. Also, they're pretty pretictable. So you migth as well just stop, cause no one actually thinks you're funny anymore."

The blue eyed boy clenched his jaw. "Oh? You actually noticed that stuff? And here I thought you were too busy kissing the ground Leo walks on." "I do not do that." You spat back, but he just smirked.

"Seems like it. You're just like every, other, Aphrodite child. The only thing you do is chase after boys." "Connor–" "Am I wrong though?" He interrupted.

You just stood there, silently, mentallky slapping yourself for not saying anything back. You didn't want to be silenced by a boy, yet you were.

So you walked away.

That's when Connor decided that maybe taking you on a date wasn't the best idea.

You wanted a better prank?

You'll get a better prank.

So the next day you woke up (later then your other siblings who were probably outide already), got out of bed and lookd at yourself in the mirror.

During the years of being claimed by Aphrodite, you figured you'd have her on your good side if you looked pretty, even without make up or crop tops and skirts, you made sure you looked good enough for your mother's liking.

Only when you turned to the mirror, there was a note on it.

'Look in the mirror and see how pink you are!' '–your favorite prankster, Connor Stoll! XO'

Only then you realized what he meant with 'how pink you are'.

Your hair was pink.

Messy and pink

Not the pretty kind of pink. Like for real ugly pink.

It was ugly. Ugly. You couldn't be ugly. You're mom would hate you, you needed to be perfect, you couldn't– "Y/n?"

It was Silena.

She had walked in and seen you with your terrible hair.

"I–Connor–My hair–he–I–" You couldn't even speak, but your sister was by your side immediately. "I'm so sorry sweetie, it's okay." She sooted you, her voice kind and gentle.

You shook your head. "But what about mo–" "She won't find out if I fix your hair for you. I think I migth know how, just stay here, okay? I'll be back soon and then your hair will be pretty again."

Meanwhile Connor walked around camp with a grin on his face. He was just about to look at how you were doing with his new creation.

When he reached cabin 10, the door was already the slightest bit open. Wide enough for him to see you, sitting there, back faced towards the door as you sat infront of one of the mirrors. He could see your face in the reflection of it.

Only he didn't expect to see you crying.

He was shocked, you never cried, now here you were, a hand running over your face, desperatly trying to wiper your tears away, but they just kept coming.

Connor had gone too far, he realized that now.

He wanted to walk in and soothe you, tell you how beautiful you are and that he was so, so, so incredibly sorry, but he didn't dare to.

So instead he walked away before someone would catch him there.

Just when Connor left, Silena came back with some products, ready to get started on your hair.

By the end of it, your hair was it's natural color again, but the first two strands of your hair were a soft pink. Silena had also put a pink ribbon on your hair, tied as a bow, and had dressed you in a cute pink dress.

"Oh. my. gods. You look so cute!" She squeeled at which you frowned. "I do? I don't think I lik–" You questioned and she nodded. "Yes, the look is so coquette! Our siblings will be so jealous!"

Only you didn't care about that. You didn't care if you looked cute or not, you didn't feel like it.

And that's how you ended up, sitting on a rock infront of the river. You had been there for a long time, hours maybe. No one would find you here, it was too far into the forest.

Well you were wrong, cause you heard silent footsteps coming your way.

"You uhm... you weren't at dinner.."

You didn't need to look up to know that it was Connor.

"Clarisse wanted to spar with you, but she couldn't find you and there was no one to lead the archery lesson so Percy decided to take over, but uhm..that didn't end well..." He continued, looking down, akwardly kicking a small rock.

"You ruined my hair." You state, going straight to the point, not even lookign at him. "I-I'm so, so sorry. I really am. It looks good now though.."

"That's not the point, Connor! You keep pulling these stupid pranks on me! You never leave me alone! Did I do something to you which made you decide I should be pranked every single week??" "No–" "Then why'd you do it?" You ask him, but he stayed quiet.

Tears were starting to run down your cheeks. "You ruined my hair, Connor. My mother loved my hair. But I can't pull of pink hair, it just doesn't suit me. My y/h/c hair did! It looked terrible, it was ugly, not good enough. I need to be perfect or else my mother won't ever love me–"

"But you're always perfect, Y/n.." Connor tells you, making you stop rambling.

Then he continued. "You're beautiful. All the time. You're beautiful when you smile, you're beautiful when you curse me out for my pranks, you're beautiful with pink hair, you're beautiful when you cry, you're beautiful when you look all coquette like this, you're beautiful when you wear an oversized hoodie and baggy pants just as you like it... I could go on, but you're gonna have to be sitting here for a long time if I do."

You listened to every single word he said, letting yourself believe it for a second. "You think so..?" You ask him, a hint of hope in your tone. "I know so." The curly haired boy states. "I don't like the way I look now though.. Silena says it's great, but I don't really feel great..But I guess it's better then the full on pink hair." You admit to the boy.

"I'm sorry about that again.." He repeated, obviously feeling very guilty about it. You just silently nodded, still not looking up at him.

Silence fell between the two of you, the only sound you could hear was the slight breese, the ruffling of leaves and the flow of the river.

"I've been in love with you ever since you single handedly took out that hellhound."

Connor suddenly admitted, he didn't sound rushed, his voice was soft.

You froze, you're heart skipping a few beats as you heard what he just said.

"And I'm sorry that I kept pranking you all this time.. I just–don't know–just your attention I guess. I thought maybe you'd start feeling the same way about me.. Now that I say it out loud, it sounds really stupid." The younger Stoll continued.

When you didn't say anything, he figured that was probably worse then a rejection. But what did he expect? You were way out of his league.

"I should go now–" "You remember when you set a bunch of spiders loose in Annabeth's cabin because she spoiled the end of my favourite book for me?" You ask him, stopping him before he could leave.

Connor nodded slowly, recalling that exact moment vividly. "Yeah.. Of course I do."

"I fell fast for you after that." You admit to him.

Y/e/c eyes met blue ones. Two soft smiles were placed on your faces.

Connor slowly took a few steps and sat down infront of you. He then took of his Camp-Halfblood hoodie, leaving him in his Camp-Halfblood shirt. The boy carefully put the hoodie on you.

"Better?" He asked you, earning a small smile from you. "Much." You nodded. "Now this is what I call cute." Connor then said, scanning the way you look in his hoodie. You had to giggle slightly and Connor loved the sound of it.

When the playfull mood died down, Connor took your hand in his, placing your intertwined hands in his lap. "I promise you, I'll never prank you again." You smiled at him. "So I'm like.. what? You're only exeption?" "Yes. You're officialy prank-free." He states. "Thank you Con." "Anything for you.."

Connor brushed a pink strand of hair behind your ear and then placed a soft, lingering kiss on your cheekbone.

The son of Hermes and the daughter of Aphrodite.

Who would've thought?

But you were together.

That's all that mattered.

[taryn40k]

Thoughts on Primarchs as women, by a woman with sisters : oh-ho ho, Malcador darling. I appreciate the thought.

It would have been a disaster. XD

So the thought was to attempt to limitate dick-measuring contests, yes? Get things more "civilized", with enormous air quotes? Let's think about that for a second.

Firstly, there aren't that many differences between the two. You would still have the same traits of character between the Primarchs : Curze would not start combing her hair just because she is a girl. Angron would still punch anyone through a wall. Lion would have the exact same array of deadly forbidden weapons. Magnus would still think she knows better. Horus would still feel crushed and abandonned by her dad as a Warmaster. (Warmistress if we want to lean in further, but for now let's keep it as it is.)

Now when in comes to society, we could look at it from our current patriarchal lense and go ooooohh.... ouuuh they would not have had it easy... Perturabo has been disregarded and disrespected enough as is, man add to that being told she's be hood for political marriage and nothing more? YIKES. Others like Fulgrim or Angron, raised in worlds where it doesn't matter, would have it easier, but others like Lion?? In a world of knights? It's the Joan of Arc route or nothing! Would Lorgar even be able to serve in religious settings? And we are not even talking about potential abuse here. Over all, add that frustration to growing up, if the general 40k civilizations tends towards patriarchy.

And then the Great Crusade, and oh my god.

Horus already crumbled under the pressure of the expectations and the scrutiny. Can you IMAGINE having to care about your dress and every accessory too?? And who you talk to and who you are seen with and how every time you have a private conversation rumors sprout out??

The expectations of kids! Some idiot suggesting you birthed all of your Astartes! I would go insane. Now granted, except for a few that do care strategically for their appearances (Guilliman for example, would be pragmatic in her choices, for branding. Fulgrim would dominate that scene!), it can be shrugged off... but well. The fascination for the female form is a bit of a clingy thing, and it tends to fester. :/

I also humbly raise periods. Not in a haha bleeding, in the emotional toll it inflicts on you. This sense that everything is crushing and hard and painful, that the world is against you, that all you can do in your hopeless situation is to lash out. Can you imagine the decisions this pressure you can't control would make them do? Ouch. :/ It's counted in numbers of nukes launched.

Now, would it ACTUALLY have made the Primarchs cooperate better between them? Uhhh... possibly. From what I have observed, women have a slight tendency towards the cerebral over the physical. Throwing pointless punches is rare... but I can assure you that I have hunted my sisters down and put the fear of death in them for relatively small things that mattered to me. XD So yes, less pointless physical confrontation... but a lot more measuring. And things would have gone VICIOUS. Leman and Lion dueling? First there would have been one dead, for real, and then the remaining legion would have been hunted down to extinction. If things come to blows, you better hope someone is there to pull two primarchs apart because it will not end before one is bleeding out! We are talking about demigods under additional pressure here.

When things explode, oh they explode HARD. We don't do fists here. We do fangs and claws. And that is past all the scheming and political games to even get there!

Malcador darling women are not always civil. Or kind and soft and agreeable. We suffer from the same flaws, expressed differently. But let me tell you... the Imperium would have gone WEIRD with female primarchs. The kill count would have been much higher, not that they didn’t give it a good try, but... sisterhood is either an unbreaking bond, or the fuel of hell itself between sisters.

Maybe it's better to have 20 sons. Not for the repairs around the house, but to at least have a house at all after someone snaps.

[daddyelliott1979]

Good morning littles, middles and bigs!

It's been a while since we've posted, life has been super busy and whilst we still play daily but haven't really had the chance to share much!

The last month has seen a massive shift in our dynamic, something that I want to preface with a story.

For me a true Dom must process one specific character trait that most of these so called Alpha Dom's lack- they lack a lot, in particular humility.

See a true Dom understands that their primary function to create the space for the sun to explode their submission and their fantasies.

Without humility, a Dom won't see that! We exist for you, not the other way round. Which brings us to this story.

Now my Boy is perfect, and amazing, we are always looking for ways to deepen his little space. I was sat one Sunday morning thinking about all of this and I cooked up the perfect way to do this!

Once he was up, had his morning nappy change and bottle, during our morning cuddles I put to @squirtdaboi my idea. That one day a month I will switch and submit to him, this would help me stay humble. It also enables me to role model babyish behaviour and set expectations in his behaviour.

So on our first day of my submission to my boy, aka us switching in which he had licence to do as he pleased with zero limits! And I had to do as he wanted.

I spent that first day fully padded, dressed like a baby, I was forbidden from acting big. I was spanked, I got tied up, tortured and eventually I had to Bottom for him!

Now the cheeky monkey didn't to use to his advantage- he said if I had to do as he said then he was making this a week long thing!!!!

Ofcourse I reminded him that once this was over I would make him pay - I got spanked for my cheekiness!

So began my week long stint as his baby, full nappies, lots of bottles, baby food and early nights. I had to satisfy his sexual urges multiple times a day. I Bottomed for him every night, sometimes multiple times in one day!

It was actually a ton of fun, I learnt a lot about myself, as a Dom, apparently as a Switch, most importantly I became aware of how much I had let things slip at times.

And apparently I do miss occasionally getting to be little! Because I'm still wearing nappies full time. But our dynamic is very fluid.

I Bottom for him more often too, nothing better than seeing your boy with his nappy half off, drooling around his dummy as he pounds you!

It's been an interesting month to say the least!

But at the heart of it all he's the love of my life, my boy, my baby, my little son, and I love him more now that I have ever done!

Sadly he's got all the pics, so maybe @squirtdaboi will share some!

Love and respect Tumblr Fam

[prudentseer]

etho down bad on his knees for joel after initially rejecting him but pride-and-prejudice-enemies-to-lovers-period-drama style

sorry i had to find someone who might(?) share the vision

Hold my hand when I say this anon but never be afraid to drop your takes into my inbox, I love to hear them regardless of whether or not I see the vision.

Fortunately for you however. I SEE THE VISION, I UNDERSTAND YOU.

The "fell first--fell harder" dynamic for boat boys fits SO WELL in my mind because of double life. Etho being wary of Joel, kinda sad that he's teamed with him and by the end he's right there with Joel in chanting "The ship burns everything burns". Also their dynamic in limited life where they were "exes"...they are enemies your honour. I call that character development.

In fact, I see the vision so much that I actually wrote something in a more arranged marriage, period drama-esc style a long while back. It's unfinished (and a bit out of order for context purposes) because historical fiction is not my specialty and I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but it's what I had and I thought I'd share a snippet (it's 1.2k words I don't think I can exactly call it that anymore) of it.

It was odd, really, how much love could feel like an obsession.

He expressed it as quietly as he possibly could in forehead kisses and small gifts; just so it didn't collect in his chest to claw at the confines and suffocate him. And it was probably dramatic to say but with the lack of air he felt around Joel it truly did feel as though if he didn't let some of it out of his heart, he'd explode.

Or even worse, he'd tell Joel how he really felt.

He'd gotten dangerously close on occasion after too many drinks by the fireplace or Joel dancing a step too close. But he didn't.

Because Joel didn't love him back.

And why would he? Etho had all but forbidden him from doing so.

This day had felt equal parts fast and agonizingly slow. But he had a feeling that a marriage he didn't agree to, with someone he barely liked, for power he couldn't have might have something to do with that.

Joel rests on the edge of the bed, one leg up and crossed on the mattress while the other dangled loosely over the edge. His tie hung loose around his neck and his shoes long kicked off but his suit still on. Etho leaned against the dresser across from him, arms folded and mouth pressed into a firm line. The grandfather clock ticking beside them. It had been three minutes and 29 seconds since they've entered their shared room and neither of them had spoken.

It was much easier to watch as time passed silently than it was to look at the person in his bed, the matching ring on his finger.

A heavy sigh startles him from his thoughts. "Listen, could you at least pretend to tolerate me?"

Etho blinks slowly. "I--"

"Don't say you have because how you've been acting like there's been a knife at your throat the entire day." Joel interrupts, running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick, something Etho noticed in the time they've spent together. "I've sent you three letters since we last saw each other; none of which you replied to, you were barely there for any of the planning process and when I see you for our actual wedding, you can't even look me in the eye."

"That's because--"

"Of what? Because I told you that I loved you?" Joel rolls his eyes. "God, excuse me for putting an effort to make it work with the man I've been betrothed to for over a year."

He remembers the day. They'd been exchanging letters weekly for several months at this point but it was only their third official time meeting in person. It was a nice day so they took a walk through Joel's garden and I instead of the flowers Etho noticed that there was this look in Joel's eye, a smile on his face and a certain tone in his voice...Joel didn't even need to tell him. He just knew. It made it extremely uncomfortable to see him again, that they both knew.

He glances down at the ring on his own finger before shaking his head.

"I'm never going to love you like you want me to."

"That's fine." Joel states, a small twitch in his face betraying his words. "I'll...I'll get over it eventually if it means you'll work with me."

Etho tilts his head. "Work with you?"

"You don't have to love me. You don't even have to like me or be friends with me..."

"But...?"

"But we're going to be a team." Joel finishes, pulling off his tie in one swift movement as he does. "This means you're going to sit next to me at gatherings, you're going to dance with me at least once when we're invited to balls, you'll eat one meal a day with me, you'll share a room with me and please for the love of God, at the very least don't look like you're going to throw up when you see me."

A compromise. A reasonable one.

"I can do that." Etho replies, as level as he can, straightening his own tie as he does. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You won't ever expect anything more."

He's being bitter and he knows it. Taking out his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who didn't ask for this either. It's unlike him really, that he can't bring himself to care.

"You're not exactly making it difficult lad."

"Joel--"

"You have a deal."

Etho nods. "Then I'll play the part."

"You'll play the part *well*."

"I promise."

Etho didn't remember exactly when it stopped being a show to him.

"Really interesting page?"

Etho blinks himself back into reality, Joel staring at him so intently from his side of the bed that he feels his chest tighten. "What?"

Joel chuckles, rubbing his eyes sleepily before shuffling close enough that Etho can wrap an arm around his shoulder. And he does, squeezing it lightly as his arm curls around.

"You've been staring at this page blankly for the past ten minutes." Etho glances at the grandfather clock in the corner. It's been longer. "You don't have to read the book if you don't like it."

This book was Joel's recommendation and Etho had to admit that it was good, he'd just been...very distracted lately.

"No I like it's just..."

"Yeah?" He smiles, head bumping Etho's shoulder. It burns. Every touch Joel gives him feels like fire has been set to his veins. "What's wrong?"

And his eyes are staring up at him so soft and kind and warm and understanding and it feels like he can tell him anything. Almost anything. The words feel heavy on his tongue, going down like oil as he swallows them.

"Nothing, you should go back to sleep."

He won't be able to resist forever but he buys himself one more day.

Joel's nose wrinkles. "You--"

And Etho is saved by the fact Joel's interrupted by his own yawn.

"You know I'm not stupid right Etho?" Joel states, settling further into Etho's arm as he does. Etho only pulls the sheet tighter. "You've been weirder than usual and if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

Theoretically, he could tell him but what then? He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't laugh but if Joel knew what Etho felt for him, he would never let him get this close to him again.

And it'd exactly what he deserved.

Karma for being an asshole to someone who just wanted to not be treated like dirt by his husband of circumstance and all he can do is accept it. Accept that he missed his chance.

Maybe one day his heart will catch up with his brain.

"Goodnight Joel."

"I'm serious." He yawns again, head tucked into the crook of Etho neck; breath tickling his clavicle. "I know you better than you like. Just wait."

It's true and it's even scary sometimes. Etho wonders how on earth he got so lucky to have someone that understands him like Joel. Someone who was willing to stick by his side through everything.

Etho waits until Joel is settled, snoring softly again before he places his book down gently on the nightstand, blowing out the table side candle. He tilts his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Joel's head, waiting in case he stirs.

"I love you." He whispers into his hair, taking a breath when there's no response.

And the part of his chest settles just enough that he feels like he can sleep too.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - Sinbad (MAGI) Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Sinbad has seven Djinn Equips and there just so happen to be seven characters in this ask, so I sorted each one to whomever fits it the best. The Reader is still from another world, but this time they're from MAGI as the king of Sindria. I hope this is adequate to what you wanted. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

🌹 Please have mercy, Riddle doesn't know how to handle flirting at all! Seriously, stop that! Don't corner him against the wall and lean over him like that! Don't hold his chin between your fingers and lift his head that way! Don't whisper in his ear all sensual-like! Are you trying to kill him!? Really; Riddle might just explode if you continue like this, going by the steam that keeps billowing from his ears. He's never been the object of affection of such a handsome man before; it's flattering and overwhelming at the same time.

🌹 You're a king? You!? But you're so irresponsible; with the way you quite literally run from him every time he tries to make you do your homework. Riddle honestly thought you were lying at first but after seeing how diplomatic you were during the unbirthday party, he actually started to believe it. He later witnesses that when you do your work, you stay holed up in your room until it's completed to perfection. Oftentimes, Riddle will go to you for advice on how to be a better leader for the students of Heartslabyul.

🌹 A gift, for him? Riddle is a little flustered, he's not too used to people getting him things out of the kindness of their heart; it's usually fear that marks the occasion. But what did you get him? Show him, he hates surprises— WHAT THE HELL!? Where in the world did you get this!? How much did this cost you!? What do you mean 'it was only half a billion'!? Congratulations, Riddle is now malfunctioning; he's stuck between being flattered that you'd spend that much money on him and being furious that you didn't use it for something more important.

🌹 Excessive jewelry and other accessories are strictly forbidden; such things could become a distraction to yourself and other students! Wait! Those are weapons!? That's even worse! Riddle is losing his mind with you, right now! You can't bring weapons into a school environment, such things are against the law! He'll have to confiscate them. Unfortunately, Riddle's unique magic doesn't seem to work on you for some reason; so his efforts are always in vain.

🌹 Riddle has his first encounter with your Furfur Djinn Equip when you sapped the light out of his bedroom using its magic. From then onwards you used it to annoy him (read as try to make him relax a bit) whenever he's busy for more than four hours. He would say he hates it, but he can't deny that your demonic-looking appearance is very appealing to the eyes; not that he'd tell you. Riddle secretly wants to touch your horns but he's far too prideful to tell you; too bad you've already noticed his fleeting glances.

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

"O‐oh, for me? Thats very kind of you, My Rose. W-wait, how much did you say this was? Half a billion! Why would you spend such a ridiculous amount of money!? My face isn't red— No— Listen to what I'm saying!"

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🦁 Oho? You're a flirt I see, Leona can certainly get behind that. It does help that you're one handsome man as well. Do you wanna lay the charms on him? Go right ahead and do your worst if you're brave enough to face this beast of a man. Just be prepared for when Leona decides to flirt back; too bad for you he's not exactly the chivalrous type. This lazy lion prince is ready to give you the most risqué tongue lashing of your life; figuratively and literally if you're down for it.

🦁 Leona could tell that you were royalty of some type just by the way you dressed, but you also had a certain about you that only natural-born leaders have. He completely understands your aversion to work, he feels it too, work sucks man. You once offered Leona to be your queen, since you were already the king, and to rule Sindria by your side; he may or may not be seriously considering it...

🦁 Being the second prince of the Sunset Savana, Leona is certainly no stranger to expensive gifts, so getting him anything expensive doesn't really surprise you too much. You're rich, he's rich, the gift only cost you half a billion— Wait... half a billion? Leona will absolutely give you a look of complete and utter confusion as to why you think half a billion is such a small sum of money. He can see Ruggie in the background salivating...

🦁 So you're telling him that the jewelry you're wearing can be used as a weapon? Sure.... you'll have to sit Leona down and explain to him about Djinn, metal vessels, dungeons and, dungeon capturing. Well... that is if you can convince him to stay awake long enough to let you explain it. Leona has a bunch of z's to catch, so if you don't mind he'll be taking his long overdue nap now.

🦁 Leona has a love-hate relationship with your Valefor Djinn Equip. On the one hand, he appreciates the beastman-like features that appear when it's equipped as well as the clothing style, but do you have to be so damn cold!? Don't get him wrong, Leona loves cuddling with his boyfriend but your skill has a natural chill to it in that form. It's gotten to the point where he'll refuse to touch you until you go back to normal.

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"AAGH! D‐dammit you're cold, let go of m‐me. How am I s'posed to fall asleep if 'm freezing my ass off? Go back to normal 'n I'll hold you as long 'n as tight as you want, kay?"

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🐙 You're flattery will get you absolutely nowhere! At least, that's what Azul wishes was the truth. Ugh! You're so damn suave and so damn fine that it's killing him! How is he supposed to talk you into signing a contract when you're leaning over his desk and looking at him like you'd eat him if Jade and Floyd weren't in the room!? Poor Azul is ready to pull out his hair with how many revisions you've sweet-talked him into making to the contract. He's got a business to run dammit!

🐙 Oho? A king you say? Perhaps if you would take him there, he could give your people an offer they couldn't refuse. Unfortunately for Azul, any plots he had for trapping you or your people in a deal were swiftly shut down by you holding a sword to his throat. He was equal parts terrified, disappointed, understanding and, really turned on. Azul still wants to go to Sindria though; maybe even as one of your vassals representing Twisted Wonderland's Coral Sea if you'd let him.

🐙 You got him a gift? You're not trying to bribe him or anything are you? Azul is definitely no stranger to attempted bribery considering it happens about once or twice per day. But eventually, after a bit of insisting on your part he'll accept it... and then promptly return it because there is no way you would give him something that looks so expensive for anything other than bribery. If you try an calm his nerves by telling Azul that it only cost you half a billion and it really wasn't that expensive; his blood pressure will skyrocket. Dear lord, save this man...

🐙 My, that's quite a bit of jewelry you have there, you wouldn't mind parting with a few items, would you? Now, now, Azul's only asking for a friend, no need to get up in arms about it. The cecaelia mer, being quite observant, did notice that your jewelry and a few weapons are where you get your otherworldly powers from. While Azul would love to have access to that power, since old habits die hard, he still restrains himself because he doesn't want you to distrust or dislike him.

🐙 Azul is very cautious about your Baal Djinn Equip; lightning and water are not too good a combination in this case. However, he admits must you look very dashing and handsome in the clothes and jewelry you wear; he can't help but take a few glances at your bare chest, your draconic features are also very eye-catching to him and he can't help but briefly think of a certain dragon fae. While Azul usually just observes you from a respectable distance; he's not entirely opposed to being in your arms.

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"H‐handsome? Me? I— if this is some kind of joke it's not funny! Y‐you're flattery will get you no nowhere. N‐now if you would just sign here... Hm? Revision? A D‐DATE! Hold on—!"

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🪲 Aww, you're so nice! Kalim doesn't quite understand why you're so fixated on complimenting him, but he really likes it! He definitely returns the favor tenfold; not just to repay you, but also because he thinks you're a very handsome man. Another thing he doesn't get is why Jamil keeps shooting you sharp looks when you give him some of the weirder compliments. But Kalim doesn't mind too much, even when you back him against a wall, he just takes it as an invitation to cling to you.

🪲 Wow! You're royalty too!? And a king no less! Kalim thinks that's so awesome! You should definitely expect a ton of questions about what it's like to rule an entire country. What kind of responsibilities do you have as king? Do you have to make any hard decisions that could impact your people? What kind of holidays do you have there? Can he go there one day? And so on, and so on. Wait! Where are you going? Kalim still has more questions to ask you; you can't leave yet!

🪲 Wow! Did you get him a gift? You're so nice, it looks so cool too! Kalim is absolutely ecstatic to receive anything from you, be it a conversation, a compliment, physical affection, a gift or even a simple hello! Huh? Half a billion Madol? Okay! Kalim will find you something just as expensive and go out of his way to get a job, save up a bunch of money, and buy it for you! He can't let the gift you gave him go unreciprocated!

🪲 You have genies in your jewelry!? That's so cool! Please call them out so that he can meet them all, Kalim has so many questions! Tell him about all of your dungeon-capturing adventures, he'll be entertained for hours on end. Jamil is crying tears of joy. He will also somehow convince your djinn to come out and share the many adventures that they had with you and their previous holders. Expect to have to tell him at least five of your adventures a day, Kalim doesn't care if you run out of them, you're such a good storyteller.

🪲 Poor Kalim was truly in shock when he saw your Zepar Djinn Equip for the very first time. You got so tiny after that huge light show; he was surprised. For him, this Djinn Equip is his favorite because you're basically a really cute living megaphone. Kalim thinks your round belly is really cute; when you're under a blanket you look like you're holding a pumpkin. He's glad to have a mini boyfriend he can carry around like a teddy bear, it's super fun.

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"WAH! You got small! You're so adorable now! Oh; and your ears are so long too! Can you hear better like that? Hey, what can you in this form? Is it like the other one's you've shown me so far?"

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

🪞 Flattery will get you everywhere; especially with Vil! However, this pretty boy has definitely heard it all; or at least he thought he had before he met you. No one had ever been quite so bold with him before. You laid your intentions out on the table right off the bat, and frankly, he found that really hot. I mean, who wouldn't want to be swept off their feet by a handsome king such as yourself? You want to make Vil your queen, you say? Oh my, buy him dinner first, you sly devil.~

🪞 A king, you say? Well, Vil did notice that you had a regal air about you, even if it was a bit overshadowed by that boyish charm of yours. But now you've got him thinking about you're proposition to make him your queen. Were you really serious about that? If you are, Vil has a long list of suggestions that he believes would improve your future shared kingdom. So what if he's never been there before, he's got to make some changes now before he walks into what might be a hot mess.

🪞 Now Vil and his family are quite wealthy, nowhere near royalty, but they still have a hefty sum to their name. This means he is no stranger when it comes to expensive clothing, accessories, skincare, and food. He has absolutely no issues with you spending a ridiculous amount of money on a gift for him. Vil just gives you an ecstatic "Oh! You shouldn't have!"

🪞 What a lovely medley of jewelry you've got there, but um... don't you think it's just a tad bit excessive? Not that you don't look absolutely dashing just the way you are, but maybe take off one or two? Vil only wants the best for you and that means fashion-wise as well. They're your weapons as well? Well, weapon or not, Vil will not allow you to walk around with a clashing color scheme! Rose gold is out of season, you know.

🪞 You know how Vil hates Neige because he feels insecure about his appearance when he's around? Yeah... that's how he feels about your Vepar Djinn Equip. He's never seen such ethereal beauty before and it's eating him up inside! He's torn between admiring his handsome boyfriend and cursing you for being more visually appealing than he is. Vil eventually accepts it though, you are his after all, and as long as he has you he can let it slide, just this once.

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

"I didn't call you old, listen closer to what I'm saying to you! I said you had a mature look about you; It's a compliment. Not many men can pull it off like you can, so you should be grateful."

🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

💀 Stop. Seriously, stop. You will actually kill this man if you start flirting with him in any aspect at all. Even a compliment is a death sentence for Idia. But if you really do desire to send him straight to an early grave, do as you wish. This poor man can barely even function around someone as handsome and imposing as you are. Idia can barely breathe around you, his palms are sweaty, his knees weak, not to mention all the blood loss from his ever-flowing nose due to your sparsely clothed chest.

💀 As if Idia needed any more of a reason to feel like he doesn't deserve to even be near you; he finds out you're a King. Why is this happening to him!? No, he can't go with you back to Sindria! Even if Idia really wants to because it sounds a lot like the kingdom from "WIZ - Maze of Sorcery" and its two sequels; "WIZ - Queendom of Sorcery" and "WIZ - Outings of Bob".

💀 You didn't have to buy him anything, you're going to make him feel bad! Idia doesn't need you to spend money on him, not that he doesn't appreciate it, because he really does. A new box set of a ton of animes that were just released on DVD? Well... you were the one who offered so Idia reluctantly says it's fine. W‐wait... d‐did you say... half a b‐billion... Oh! It looks like he fainted!

💀 Do you think— Would you mind if Idia used some of your magic jewelry for a few of his cosplays? He'll take good care of them, he promises! Actually, if you don’t want to lend him anything, could you... cosplay with him? Idia completely understands if you don't want to, I mean who wants to spend time with him anyway? But... the offer is still up if you ever consider it...

💀 After seeing your Crocell Djinn Equip, Idia finally understood why you weren't at all cautious about his hair. He accidentally went on a tangent about how you reminded him of a character from a manga he read once and how you were like his 'irl SSR Secret Quest Reward, Boyfriend', whatever that meant. Sometimes, Idia will ask you to go into your Djinn Equip so that you can play with his hair like that one scene in that Shoujo anime you both watched together.

🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

"That's way cool! A mystery boss stage with percentage boost in SSR gear and a companion character too! It's just like 'Last Delusion'! EH!? You've never heard of it!? Come on, I'll show you!"

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

🐲 You're not scared of him? At all? You do know who he is right? Malleus Draconia: strongest mage in the NRC, prefect of the infamous Diasomnia dorm, heir to the throne of the Valley of Thorns? You do? Instead of finding him fear-inducing, you called him... gorgeous? Handsome? A sight for sore eyes? Consider Malleus a very flustered and confused dragon fae. He's used to getting compliments from Lilia and his vassals but from you? He feels like he's melting but in a good way. Well... he thinks so, at least.

🐲 A fellow royal? Oh, you're a king too? I hope you don't mind Malleus asking about the details of how you rule over Sidria because he has a lot of questions. He is also set to be the king of the Valley of Thorns in the future, so he wants to gain as much knowledge concerning ruling a country as possible. Malleus's ears are open; tell him anything and everything. How was Sindria established? How do you handle the punishment of your people who break the laws you set in place? Etcetera...

🐲 Malleus is quite wealthy due to his status as the prince of the Valley of Thorns, so he isn't exactly bothered by the thought of receiving expensive gifts. The price of said gift also doesn't seem to phase him. In fact, just like you, he sees such a sum of money as mere pocket change. Malleus is a dragon as well as exceptionally old, he and his grandmother have amassed quite a mountain of wealth in the many years that they have been alive. Nonetheless, he is very grateful for the gift.

🐲 That's quite the lovely set of jewels you have adorning your body there. Please spare this poor dragon boy, he's struggling to hold back his hoarding instincts. His brain is sounding the alarm bells and all he can think is "big shiny, big shiny, big shiny, bi–". Don't be too alarmed if a wild Malleus in his dragon form or otherwise swoops down and whisks you away. Though you may have to worry about leaving his hoard; it will be very difficult, I can assure you. You may just find yourself back where you started; trapped in Malleus's arms.

🐲 Malleus has seen each and every one of your Djinn Equips and if he had to pick a favorite, it would be your Focalor Djinn Equip, followed closely by your Baal Djinn Equip due to draconic appearance. The reason he favors Focalor's is that he can, instead of taking a moonlit stroll, fly through the night in the arms of his boyfriend without needing to go into his dragon form. Malleus had never been swept off his feet, but now he has, literally.

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

"Child of man, these dungeons you speak of; did they perhaps house any gargoyles? I couldn't help but ask, what with all the fantastical creatures and items that you mentioned being within them."

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

Could I request a 2008 Tom x reader where they’re actually already in a relationship, but they’ve kept it a secret from the public/fans/press for a while, and it’s starting to really wear on the reader emotionally? Like maybe she feels like he’s ashamed of her or worried it’ll ruin his image, and it turns into an emotional moment where everything kinda explodes? Would love if it ends soft or at least hopeful tho!!

Thank you sm, I love your work!! 💕

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS | TOM KAULITZ

you sit quietly in the corner of the hotel room, the faint hum of the city leaking through the windows. the air feels thick, like something’s about to snap, but you’re trying not to think about it — trying to pretend you’re fine. you’ve been waiting for hours, and tom promised the interview would be over soon.

“be patient.” he had told you after kissing you quickly and with that smirk that you loved so much.

but soon had stretched into late, and with every minute, the weight inside your chest grew heavier.

you glanced at the cracked mirror across the room, watching your reflection flicker under the dim light. you tugged at your shirt sleeves, but the invisible shackles wrapped around you were not in any piece of clothing — they were in every secret you were forced to keep.

no pictures together. no public appearances. no hand-holding, no subtle touches in front of fans or cameras. you were always “just part of the crew” — the invisible shadow he pretended you were comfortable being.

and at first you did, you told yourself it was exciting — the adrenaline rush of sneaking around, the stolen moments behind closed doors, the secret smiles exchanged when no one was watching. there was a thrill in being the forbidden, the hidden, like you and tom were rebels carving out a world just for yourselves amid the chaos of fame and flashing cameras.

but after a year of whispers and shadows, the excitement wore thin.

the constant pretending. the careful choreography every time you stepped into a room. the lonely hotel rooms and tour buses that became your only home together. it wasn’t just tiring — it was draining, leaving you hollow and aching for something real.

that’s what sat heavy in your chest that night, waiting alone in the hotel room, hoping his promise of a “soon” wasn’t just another way to keep you hidden in the dark.

you bit your lip. was that what love feels like? a series of stolen moments sandwiched between whispered phone calls and sneaky hotel visits?

was he ashamed of you? the thought burnt like acid.

you remembered the last time you had talked about this, he brushed it off, the way he smiled like it was all a joke, the careless charm that always masked his fear of losing control. maybe it was his reputation as a playboy. maybe he was afraid it’ll all fall apart if the world knew the truth.

you were tired. so, so tired.

the door clicked open after two hours, where you had spent most of the time losing yourself in those thoughts. tom stepped in — handsome, like always, the casual confidence radiating off him like a flame. his dreadlocks fell onto his shoulders, a black scarf above it, a white shirt that clung onto him even if it was baggy, showing just a bit of his abs, and of course his usual baggy jeans. he was tired, you could see it.

he closed the door behind him, taking off his shirt immediately and walking over with that familiar smirk, sliding his hands around your waist as if nothing had changed.

because for him, it was true.

you didn’t know if it was hard for him too, but it certainly didn’t look like it.

sometimes you wondered if you were the one in the wrong. if you were just ungrateful since he was risking his career for you.

but you couldn’t live forever with nothing. no dates besides these little meetings, no kisses in public, no showing you off, nothing.

he leaned down, lips finding yours, hands traveling down your back, trying to pull you back into the world you both kept locked away.

sex was his was of communicating his feelings, you knew that well, he needed it to express how much he loved you, when words were not enough.

so that’s why you pulled away.

some would call you a bitch, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t give in.

silence filled the room.

you didn’t say anything at first, just stared at him — pressed against the wall, your heart pounding louder than your voice.

his eyes narrowed. “what the hell’s wrong with you?” his voice was sharper now, frustrated, almost angry.

he always got like this when you were upset, it was like he got pissed off because you were in the first place and it didn’t sit right with him.

you swallowed hard. “i’m tired of acting like i’m nothing. like i’m just some secret you have to hide.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “that’s not fair.”

you widened your eyes at him, raising your eyebrows, your chest tight. “what isn’t fair? that i have to sneak around like a kid? that i’m never allowed to exist publicly with you?” your voice rose, trembling with everything you’ve kept inside for so long. “you act like being with me is some kind of liability, like i’m a mistake you’re trying to hide from the world.”

he groaned, a hand stroking his face, frustration but also something softer tangled together in his eyes. “you think i want this? that i don’t wish things were different?”

you bit your lip, fighting the sting of tears. “then why don’t you fight for us? why do i feel like i’m just… a placeholder? a story nobody can ever know?”

tom’s jaw clenched. for a long moment, he said nothing, then finally his voice dropped, rough with honesty. “because this world we live in… it’s brutal. and i’m terrified that if i let you in fully, everything i’ve built will crumble.”

you shook your head, voice softer now but no less fierce. “maybe it’s time to stop being scared. maybe it’s time to risk everything for something real. or is your money worth more than me?”

his hands fell from at his sides, trembling just slightly. then, stepping back, he sat down on the floor, head in hands, looking vulnerable in a way you rarely see. “you know it’s not that shit. it’s everything. the manager would kill me, the fans would hate you, everything would get fucked up. i just - i don’t know how to handle that.”

strangely, that sight that before could’ve made you weak for him, now just escalated the frustration and pain you felt. without thinking, you let your mouth run. “wow. you act like you’re so strong, like you’ve got everything figured out… but you’re just a scared kid trying to keep it all together.”

he flinched at your words, looking up at you like he didn’t expect that from you. you took a step towards the door, hurt and angry all at once. “maybe i should just walk away. maybe this—us—isn’t meant to be if you’re going to hide forever.”

but before you could move further, he got up and his hand wrapped suddenly around your wrists, blocking your path. he pinned you against the wall, his eyes dark and raw.

“you’re not going anywhere.” he growled, voice thick with something fierce and desperate.

then he crushed his mouth to yours, hungry and urgent, as if trying to swallow every doubt, every fear in that kiss.

when you finally pulled apart, breathless, he cupped your face with both hands, his gaze burning into yours.

“i won’t be scared anymore,” he said, voice steady and sure, “not of us. not of what we could be.”

you observed his face, eyes darting everywhere, exploring every inch of his skin, before going back to his lips, where you decided to leave a quick kiss, closing your eyes.

then you reached up, tracing the edge of his jaw, hope blooming between you both like fire.

“then we do this together.” you whispered.

and for the first time, it felt like the weight of hiding might finally began to lift.

[liviawildrose]

𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭

since i’m getting my first-ever tarot deck, i decided to go deep into its history, its power, and all the ways it can change your life. if you’re curious about tarot whether as a beginner or someone already deep in the craft this is everything you need to know.

the history of tarot (aka how the cards found us)

the tarot didn’t originally start off as some mystical tool of divination. it actually began as a playing card game in the 1400s in europe mainly italy and france. it was called tarocchi in italian and was mostly for the rich elites to flex their money. the cards were hand-painted, luxurious, and honestly more bougie than magical at first.

the deck had suits like swords, cups, wands, and pentacles (sound familiar?), plus the trump cards which we now know as the major arcana. these cards eventually started to carry deeper symbolic meanings, often based on christian, pagan, and astrological influences.

fast forward to the 18th century and shit got esoteric. a bunch of mystics, occultists, and secret societies (like the hermetic order of the golden dawn) started connecting tarot to kabbalah, alchemy, astrology, numerology, and the “hidden knowledge” of the universe. that’s when tarot stopped being a game and started becoming a spiritual tool. people believed the cards were connected to the akashic records, the collective unconscious, and were essentially a mirror to the soul.

1300s: the pre-tarot era (a little mysterious, a little cloudy)

this is where the tarot vibe starts to bubble, but the actual cards aren’t here yet. people across europe, especially in italy, spain, and france, were playing with basic playing cards brought in from the islamic world via trade routes. these decks had four suits (like our modern hearts, clubs, etc.) and originated from mamluk cards from egypt.

these early playing cards were often seen as symbols of gambling and pleasure, but their popularity exploded in both the courts of the wealthy and the streets. divination wasn’t part of the picture yet, but the archetypes (like kings, queens, knights) were already starting to form.

1400s: the birth of tarot as a game (italy goes off)

welcome to the renaissance, baby. this is where the first tarot decks appear—not as a spiritual tool but as a luxury game called trionfi or tarocchi. these decks were made for the elite, often hand-painted, and used in a trick-taking card game (a bit like bridge).

notable decks:

• Visconti-Sforza tarot (mid-1400s): the OG tarot deck. commissioned by the Duke of Milan’s family. 78 cards, including the major arcana we know today (like the fool, death, the lovers, etc.). it wasn’t mystical yet but the symbolism was rich.

these decks were basically rich people flexes status symbols more than spiritual tools. but their illustrations were deeply allegorical, reflecting virtues, vices, astrology, and classical philosophy.

the aesthetic was already witchy.

1500s: the spread begins (and the church side-eyes)

tarot starts spreading across europe, especially france and switzerland. it’s still a card game, but now it’s catching the eyes of mystics, philosophers, and eventually the church, who starts calling it “the devil’s game” because… drama.

the iconography of the cards (especially death, the devil, the tower) made people nervous. some players began attaching superstitions and local folk beliefs to the cards, especially in more rural areas.

divination was still not officially a thing, but seeds were being planted.

the church’s war on tarot – demonic or divine?

• the catholic church labeled tarot as demonic, especially during the inquisition.

• the devil card in tarot was often cited as proof that tarot was satanic.

• in the 15th century, some places banned tarot readings, linking them to witchcraft and heresy.

• but here’s the twist: some say the church itself used tarot in secret, especially in gnostic and esoteric sects that hid forbidden knowledge from the masses.

1700s: the mystics take over (aka the esoteric awakening)

okay this is the era where tarot gets its magical glow-up.

• 1781: Antoine Court de Gébelin, a french occultist. he claimed tarot cards held the secret teachings of ancient egypt, hidden in plain sight. he believed tarot was a book of wisdom disguised as a game.

• he was delulu, but influential. his ideas shaped the future of tarot like crazy.

then comes Jean-Baptiste Alliette, aka Etteilla (his name backwards because… why not). he’s the first person to professionally read tarot and write a guide to using the cards for divination. he even designed the first tarot deck specifically for fortune telling in 1789.

this is when tarot shifts from game → divination tool. people are now pulling cards to connect with spirit, fate, the future, and the divine.

many women were executed or persecuted for divination, fortune-telling, or witchcraft and in those cases, if tarot had been part of their practice, it could’ve absolutely contributed to their persecution.

1400s–1700s: the witch hunt era (especially in europe)

this era saw thousands of women (and some men) being tortured and killed for anything vaguely “supernatural”:

• owning herbs

• practicing midwifery

• being single or widowed (yep)

• “talking to spirits”

• fortune-telling, palm reading, astrology

• even just being a little too confident or beautiful

so… if tarot had already been linked to divination in this era, it absolutely would’ve been used as evidence of witchcraft. but again, during the height of the witch trials (especially in salem or germany), tarot wasn’t yet widely used for mystical purposes.

romani women & persecution

a lot of romani (or “traveller”) women were powerful diviners who used playing cards and tarot-like imagery for readings. they were:

• exoticized by the rich

• blamed for crime

• feared by the church

• and often violently policed

they very likely used tarot or cartomancy in their work and many faced imprisonment, abuse, or worse.

• these women were doing divination, healing, and spiritual work LONG before any white men made it trendy.

• they used herbs, spirits, dreams, and yes, playing cards or early forms of tarot to give people guidance.

• they were demonized, sexualized, and burned alive.

• even when they were accurate, insightful, helpful? society didn’t care — they were seen as threats.

why did the men get away with it?

• privilege + education: men like Etteilla and de Gébelin were educated and seen as “respectable intellectuals,” not “dangerous witches.”

• misogyny: women’s magic was seen as emotional, chaotic, and demonic, while men’s mysticism was seen as scientific or philosophical.

• whitewashing: tarot’s magical history was sanitized by white european men who made it marketable for upper class europeans—meanwhile, the women who had been keeping the spiritual traditions alive for generations were cast out, imprisoned, or killed.

✨ men got to be called “esoteric scholars.” women got called “witches,” jailed, or murdered. ✨

1800s: occult tarot enters its dark feminine era

this century is when tarot becomes full-blown mystical, magical, and very extra.

• secret societies like the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (yes, like something out of a court of thorns and roses) start incorporating tarot into their occult rituals.

• tarot gets fused with kabbalah, numerology, alchemy, astrology, and ancient mystery traditions. it’s no longer just about fortune telling—it’s about unlocking spiritual truth and tapping into cosmic knowledge.

big names:

• Eliphas Levi: french occultist who connects tarot with the Tree of Life from kabbalah and sees it as a book of universal symbols.

• Papus: writes occult books on tarot as a map of the soul.

1900s: tarot goes mainstream (the spiritual awakening era)

this century changes everything.

• 1909: Rider-Waite-Smith deck is born—created by Arthur Edward Waite (occultist) and Pamela Colman Smith (a black/mixed-race illustrator and absolute queen). this deck becomes the most iconic tarot deck of all time. it’s the one you probably see all over tiktok, tumblr, and pinterest.

this man was born in 1857 in Brooklyn, but moved to England when his dad died (classic tragic backstory).

• he was a mystic, scholar, and self-proclaimed occultist.

• waite was obsessed with all things hidden: the kabbalah, alchemy, divination, rosicrucianism, freemasonry, and… tarot.

• he didn’t just want to dabble, he wanted to decode the entire universe.

THE HERMETIC ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN

aka: the occult secret society in the UK during the late 1800s.

this secret society:

• was founded in 1887.

• had three levels of initiation (mental, astral, and magical).

• dabbled in astrology, ritual magic, astral projection, angelic communication, and of course tarot.

waite’s role?

• he joined in the 1890s and eventually became a big-time ritualist there.

• but get this: he thought the society was too obsessed with actual magic and power rituals.

• waite wanted more ✨ “spiritual illumination” ✨ vibes.

• so he left and made his own thing: the Fellowship of the Rosy Cross in 1915 (more mellow, more meditative, still weird af).

THE RIDER-WAITE DECK ORIGIN STORY

so in 1909, waite teamed up with pamela colman smith (an absolute LEGEND) to make a tarot deck that was less fortune-teller-y and more mystical-symbolic-alchemical-kabbalistic.

he wanted tarot to reflect universal spiritual truths, not just give yes/no answers.

but here’s the story

• pamela was the artist behind all the cards, and waite was the “occult consultant”.

• she was also a golden dawn member and deeply intuitive.

• waite gave her the meanings/symbolism he wanted, and pamela channeled the rest.

and yet?

the deck was named:

• “Rider” = the publishing company

• “Waite” = the dude who gave the notes

• pamela? the girl who literally illustrated the ENTIRE FUCKING DECK? yeah, her name wasn’t even on the box.

make it make sense.

now we call it the Rider-Waite-Smith deck to honor her, but even now, people forget her name. (and yes, she was a bisexual jamaican woman who deserved a monument, not erasure.)

what makes it special:

• full illustrations on all 78 cards (not just major arcana).

• every symbol is intentional, magical, and layered.

• it’s easy to read intuitively, which made tarot way more accessible.

other major moments:

• 1970s-80s: tarot explodes during the new age movement. crystals, astrology, yoga, witchcraft everything’s trendy again.

• books, indie decks, and readers start showing up everywhere.

• feminism + queer culture start embracing tarot as a tool for healing, empowerment, and rebellion.

some believe tarot didn’t start in italy—it was secretly preserved knowledge from:

• ancient egypt → linked to the book of thoth, a mystical text said to contain the secrets of the universe.

• jewish kabbalah → the tarot’s 22 major arcana cards match the 22 paths of the tree of life.

• hermeticism & alchemy → tarot might’ve been used as a coded system to pass down hidden spiritual wisdom.

• witchcraft & divination → the church banned tarot in many places, saying it was used for communing with spirits.

so was tarot just a card game that became spiritual later? or was it always meant to be a powerful divination tool that was disguised as a game to survive religious persecution?

the structure of tarot cards & how they actually work

okay so let’s talk about tarot cards. like really talk.

not just the aesthetic side of it but the actual bones, spirit, and power of what this deck does. tarot isn’t just about “telling the future” it’s about unlocking the subconscious, channeling energy, and syncing with divine frequencies. it’s psychological, magical, intuitive, and energetic all at once.

a standard tarot deck: the breakdown

every tarot deck, no matter the theme, follows this same sacred structure:

• 78 cards total

• 22 major arcana

• 56 minor arcana

• broken into 4 suits: wands, cups, swords, pentacles

• each suit has 10 number cards (ace to ten) + 4 court cards (page, knight, queen, king)

the major arcana: the fool’s journey

these 22 cards represent the big, life-shifting energies. fate. transformation. spiritual evolution. each card is like a major chapter in your soul’s growth we’re talking divine awakenings, tower moments, karmic cycles, shadow work, rebirths.

starts with 0 - the fool (new beginnings, divine trust)

ends with 21 - the world (wholeness, soul completion)

together, they tell a story called the fool’s journey basically your higher self going through all levels of awakening. when a major arcana card shows up in a reading, it’s like the universe screaming, “hey babe, something bigger is going on.”

the minor arcana: everyday energy

the other 56 cards zoom in on the day-to-day stuff your feelings, situations, interactions, thoughts, and choices. they’re like the scene-by-scene details in your life’s storyline.

they’re split into 4 suits:

wands – fire – action, passion, drive

wands are the suit of energy, movement, and ambition. they rule creativity, personal projects, sexuality, and the pursuit of goals. when wands appear, they ask you to act, to ignite, to move. they carry that fiery essence of spring new beginnings, budding desires, and the push to birth something new into the world. this suit is bold, impulsive, and alive.

zodiac associations: aries, leo, sagittarius.

cups – water – emotions, love, intuition

cups are all about the heart. they speak of love, friendship, intuition, and emotional undercurrents. when cups show up, they’re pointing to your feelings, relationships, dreams, or spiritual connection. they vibe with summer warmth, deep emotional bonds, and the fluidity of the soul.

zodiac associations: cancer, scorpio, pisces.

swords – air – thoughts, communication, conflict

swords slice through the bullshit. they represent the mind, truth, clarity, and sometimes, pain. this suit speaks of decisions, conflict, justice, anxiety, and intellectual power. swords are like the chill of autumn brisk, piercing, honest. they’re not afraid to tell you what’s up.

zodiac associations: gemini, libra, aquarius.

pentacles – earth – money, body, reality

pentacles ground you. they deal with your material world—money, home, health, career, and long-term stability. these cards are slow and steady, like the winter soil prepping to bloom. they remind you to invest wisely, nurture yourself, and build something that lasts.

zodiac associations: taurus, virgo, capricorn.

the court cards: people + energy types

each suit has four court cards:

• page = young energy, messages, learning something new

• knight = action, intensity, pursuit

• queen = internal mastery, nurturing power, wisdom

• king = external authority, control, success

they can represent:

• people in your life

• energies you’re embodying (or need to)

• different versions of yourself

• roles you’re stepping into

etc etc etc

here’s what happens when you read tarot:

• you’re not just pulling cards — you’re tapping into your energy field and subconscious

• tarot acts as a mirror, reflecting your current vibration + emotional state

• the deck connects with your higher self + spirit guides

• the cards show you the probable path you’re on, based on your energy right now

“aka, tarot isn’t fixed fate. it’s quantum possibility.

pulling a card doesn’t mean something will happen.

it means it’s likely to happen if your energy, choices, and direction stay the same.

but guess what? you can shift all that. the cards aren’t bossing you around. they’re showing you where the fuck you’re heading — so you can course correct, realign, or lean in harder.”

why tarot isn’t random: energy meets intention

when you shuffle your cards, your energy moves through your body and into the deck. the cards that fall out, flip over, or call to you? they’re aligned with your current vibration. they hold the message you’re meant to hear.

you’re syncing your intuition with divine signals your deck literally becomes your spiritual translator.

numerology + suits: the combo cheat sheet

you can decode the meanings of cards even deeper by understanding what numbers mean, across all suits:

ace – beginnings, potential, divine spark

ace is pure magic. it’s the seed, the idea, the emotional spark, the first whisper from the universe. every ace is like a portal opening raw potential begging to be shaped. when an ace drops, the message is clear: something new is being born. whether it’s love, a dream, a shift in mindset, or a fresh opportunity this is the cosmic green light.

two – duality, choice, connection

two is all about balance and decisions. it’s when energy meets another energy. the beginning was you, but now there’s someone or something else to consider. two is the mirror, the contrast, the crossroads. it often speaks of partnerships, internal debates, or emotional bonds forming. you’re no longer alone you’re responding, reflecting, deciding.

three – creation, growth, expansion

three is where things start to bloom. the decision has been made, the idea is moving, and now growth is happening. this is collaboration, teamwork, the first signs of success. it’s the universe saying, “okay, i see you, let’s take this to the next level.” three is joyful, creative, and full of forward motion.

four – foundation, stability, pause

four is solid. grounded. unmoving. it’s where things settle sometimes a good thing, sometimes a stuck thing. it represents structure, rest, and evaluation. in love, it can mean emotional security or boredom. in career, it’s a stable paycheck or a plateau. four asks you: are you building or are you stagnating?

five – chaos, change, challenge

five is the shake-up. this number is a mess sometimes—and that’s the point. it brings friction, competition, grief, loss, tension. but it also teaches. five is here to evolve you. it’s the breaking point, the wake-up call, the shadow. it says: what will you do when everything falls out of place?

six – harmony, healing, balance restored

six is the light after the storm. it’s love returned, help arriving, peace being made. it’s when the chaos softens and understanding flows. it’s nostalgia, kindness, balance. six shows you that you’re still held. it’s emotional restoration and karmic harmony. breathe again—this is the softness after the sharp edges of five.

seven – introspection, assessment, mystery

seven is spiritual. it’s the “pause and go within” number. it’s about evaluation, digging deeper, resisting temptation, or needing to trust your intuition. there’s often confusion with seven—but it’s a call to slow down and figure out what the hell you actually want. it’s the seeker, the lone wolf, the soul traveler.

eight – mastery, power, momentum

eight brings motion. you’ve learned the lessons, and now it’s time to do the damn thing. this number rules strength, authority, repetition, and control. it’s about putting in the work, whether that’s emotional effort, physical grind, or intellectual discipline. eight says: prove it. you have the tools. now use them.

nine – nearing the end, reflection, solitude

nine is a deep breath. it’s you, standing alone at the edge of everything you’ve built. there’s wisdom here, but also weariness. nine asks you to integrate, to sit with your growth and your wounds. in many decks, nine holds emotional maturity, inner light, and a call to protect your space. you’re almost there don’t quit now.

ten – completion, wholeness, closure

ten is the full circle. it’s where the story ends, and a new one is waiting. there’s reward, endings, legacy, sometimes even overwhelm. it can be fulfillment or collapse. it depends on the journey you’ve had. ten is both death and rebirth. when this number appears, something has run its course and you’re about to level up.

in short:

• tarot is an energetic tool, not a fortune cookie

• it helps you decode your present and navigate your future

• it speaks through archetypes, symbols, numbers, and elements

• when you bond with your deck and use it with pure intention, it will feel like your soul is talking back

this is your mirror. your journal. your spirit bestie. and it will show up for you every damn time.

direct energy grids + tarot: the hidden circuitry of fate

this might sound wild, but hear me out tarot is connected to energy fields, just like crystals, rituals, or sacred geometry. the earth has ley lines, which are energetic pathways running across the planet (think of them like spiritual wifi lines). many ancient sites like stonehenge and the pyramids are built directly on these.

when you read tarot especially in a sacred space, near crystals, or under moonlight you’re kind of plugging into this ancient, universal network of knowledge. tarot becomes a tool to navigate the grid. your cards can absorb, respond to, and reflect energies that are local, global, cosmic, ancestral, or even past life based.

tarot doesn’t exist in a vacuum. every card you pull is part of a much, much larger grid of energetic blueprints a multi-dimensional etheric map that you plug into the moment you shuffle your deck with intention.

energy grids are real. they’re ancient. think: the way ley lines pulse through earth, or how crystal grids hold vibrational frequencies. when you sit with tarot, light a candle, and pull cards, you’re aligning your intention with an invisible, cosmic WiFi that connects:

• your higher self

• the collective unconscious

• your guides + ancestors

• the timeline you’re currently vibrating on

• the timeline you’re meant to be on

every card is a node. every spread is a circuit. every intention you set is a frequency being broadcast.

this is why it’s so important to charge your space, cleanse your deck, and keep your energetic field protected. if your vibration is off or static, the signal gets fuzzy. the more clear, raw, and open you are, the stronger the alignment becomes. this is the secret sauce behind readings that feel so accurate it feels like you’re getting spiritually bitch-slapped.

what you can ask your deck (spoiler alert: almost anything)

you can ask tarot about literally everything. love, career, friendship drama, soul purpose, spiritual awakening, whether your crush is obsessed with you, if your manifestation is close, etc.

some fave categories:

• how someone feels about you

• what energy surrounds you right now

• what’s blocking you

• what you’re not seeing

• how to align with your highest timeline

• advice from your spirit team

• energy check-ins

• what you need to heal

• your future self’s message

• past life insight

• creative breakthroughs

• shadow work

• how to protect your energy

• signs, omens, and red flags

tarot is basically your higher self holding a mirror to you like “baby this is the vibe rn, don’t play yourself.”

what not to ask your tarot deck (especially when you’re just starting out)

some no-no’s or at least “be careful” zones:

• exact times/dates: time is fluid in the spirit world. tarot gives time frames, not deadlines. “what date will i get famous?” babes, the cards aren’t a damn clock. they speak in energy, seasons, and cycles. not google calendar.

• anything you already asked 3x in a row bc you didn’t like the answer (don’t test the deck like that, she’ll ghost you).

• asking for info about someone else without their permission (aka tarot spying—it can backfire). that’s manipulation. don’t make the spirits side-eye you. ahem ahem ahem rather ask “what kinda things he/she likes bahahahahaha” i partially hailey bieber understand guys

• stuff that would be better asked to a licensed pro (like medical or legal advice).

• questions that come from fear or desperation. tarot picks up on energy—if you’re panicking, the reading will reflect that chaos.

how to make your tarot deck your bestie

• introduce yourself to the deck. literally say hi.

• cleanse it when you get it. smoke, moonlight, sound, or intention.

• sleep with it under your pillow or beside you to bond.

• pull a card daily to start building trust + connection.

• keep it in a pouch or silk cloth, treat it like royalty.

• talk to it like it’s a friend, thank it after readings.

• journal every reading and reflect. it helps the connection deepen.

• charge it with crystals like rose quartz (for love energy), jade (for abundance), or prehnite (for divine connection and healing). amethyst too (for intuition) or clear quartz,

• use the deck with intention. don’t just play with it when you’re bored—respect the energy.

closing thoughts (aka chaos + cosmos)

someone on tumblr once told me to embrace chaos when reading tarot—and i felt that in my soul. tarot isn’t about knowing everything. it’s about dancing with the unknown, trusting the signs, reading between the lines, and using your magic to create the life you deserve.

it’s a ritual. it’s therapy. it’s manifestation. it’s storytelling. it’s shadow work. it’s self-love.

and now, it’s part of you.

[osakanone]

UPDATE: The Destiel/Supernats aren't taking this well -- explaining my reasoning for the history I gave, and why Destiel is not the big bitch of shipping that it thinks it is

An update to THIS:

"This is just a marketing thing, Gundam is a giant robot show, only men watch it!"

Gundam's fandom is silent majoratively feminine:

"But its not gay, its about giant robots!"

Gundam is very gay. The entire climax of the first story is a riff of Yukio Mishima lmao

The climax of the Amuro/Char arc of Universal Century Gundam (expounding from first Gundam circa 1979), Char's Counterattack is somewhat on the history of Japanese disillusion with liberalism which notably climaxed with the life and history of Yukio Mishima.

You know. THAT Yukio Mishima.

The one who wrote FORBIDDEN COLOURS.

It was so gay that the fanfiction inspired by it became its own damn anime:

And that's just Charmuro, let alone Charma or a billion other ships just in OG Gundam alone.

We've got This is before we get to Guin Sard Lineford and Yamagi Glimerton (both verrrrry gay), Tieria Erde (a genderqueer trans-coded character who transcends gender entirely in their arc) and a bunch of others.

Gundam was always gay.

"I don't see the numbers"

"That doesn't seem like much, Supernat is at least 2x this"

Sooooo the amount of content you do see isn't representative of how much even got written, given FFN had a huge content purge.

First, let's start with the relative proportion of users: If we're analysing the concept of fandom, we first have to look at who had access to the internet in the first place to publish works.

Yeah that's a pretty sizable difference.

Wing's fandom actually exploded in 2000, but got capped VERY early, distributing itself to fansites when FFN fragmented and collapsed.

Why?

Content purges!

"Isn't there some sort of online archive of this stuff?"

Sure, if you wanna dig through tons and tons of Angelfire and Geocities pages which have mostly disappeared. Otherwise, no! There is no archive of this stuff?

"Why?"

They've since rolled back on this but it means there's a massive amount of lost media out there, including the discussions on it and thus there's an entire history you didn't get to experience.

Its actually very difficult to reach people who've been involved, since it was so long ago that very few people remember, and a sizable proportion of that population have actually died.

"But what about SF fandoms? We have ancient records of stuff like Spirk!"

See unlike physical media like zines, when a server goes offline or there's a data-loss, or something like that there is no surviving copy of the thing in question.

The net result is we have this weird hole where content just vanished, and its now considered lost media. The work of many artists, designers, writers, even videos of events are just lost media because we didn't have the archival mentality adults develop.

You're not gonna hear about all the X-Files stuff or Frasier fanfictions or GW stuff because of these purges and the lack of physical media. FFN users were teens, not adults with resources like US/EU/JP SF fans, who had archival tendencies due to their long history.

So there is this supermassive black-hole in the history of fanfiction running between 1998, and 2008 and some of the only evidence of it are worksafe works and fansites which the owners have long since forgotten about because folks moved on. Moving on is a normal part of fandom.

So to those of you just saying "supernatural is losing to a pair of dumb anime girls" or "urgh this is just a trend tumblr will get over it and go back to supernatural"...

Uhhhhh no they won't, actually?

Supernat's fans mostly seem to be waspy Americans. Gundam is kind of a global phenomenon, one which has traditionally had a silent majority female audience, a vocal minority male audience -- and every time that majority has spoken up, its coincided with a content purge, or a TOS change that mysteriously biases American derived fiction over Japanese derived fiction.

Funny that.

tl;dr:

NATURE IS HEALING

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 15.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: curses, mentions of jk's unaliving attempt, explicit content: hickeys, fingering, they are so in love and can't stop saying it, unprotected sex, creampie

☆word count: 2.6k

☆a/n: i love them, and my bad if there are any typos this is heavily unedited haha let me know if you see any!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook feels anxious. Ever since Taehyung asked him to meet up to talk, he’s been feeling incredibly anxious, like his heart might explode in his chest. Even worse - he’s afraid he’ll run into you when he gets to the apartment, and after what you said on Thursday, he thinks he might break with no way to heal if he sees you.

He’s scheduled an appointment with his therapist later today. All he can do is hope that it’ll help. And that his conversation with Taehyung will help, too.

Taehyung is in the living room when Jungkook gets home, playing on the Switch. He pauses his game the second Jungkook walks in, and they both stare at each other for a time, an uneasy silence filling the apartment.

Taehyung breaks it first. “Hey.”

Jungkook takes off his shoes but keeps his coat on as he heads towards the living room. “Hey.”

“How have you been?” Taehyung asks.

It’s awkward, and Jungkook hates it. He’s been hating way too much stuff in his life lately.

“Fine,” Jungkook replies. 

He can’t bring himself to return the question, and he sits at the other extremity of the couch, as far away from Taehyung as he possibly can.

“Listen…” Taehyung says when he realizes Jungkook won’t say anything else. “I’m sorry I punched you.” He winces as his eyes go over the bruise and wound Jungkook knows adorn his cheek. “Shit, I actually got you good.”

“You did,” Jungkook coldly replies.

Taehyung eyes his knuckles, which have also turned red and purple from the blow. “I really am sorry for that. I don’t know why I punched you, and I’m a little disgusted with myself that I did.”

“You were mad. It makes sense.”

Taehyung shakes his head no. “It doesn’t make sense. But… man, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Because you told me you’d kill me if I did touch her?” Jungkook chuckles bitterly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Yet you still went behind my back and fucked her,” Taehyung states, a hint of anger flashing behind the words.

“I didn’t fuck your sister,” Jungkook spits. “It’s never been like that with her.”

Taehyung remains silent for a few seconds and then sighs deeply. “Then how is it?”

His tone is cool, composed, and a lot nicer than Jungkook expected it to be. It calms down the anger that was starting to simmer in his blood better than a cold shower would have.

“Wha - what?” Jungkook lets out.

Taehyung offers him a smile that seems forced, yet Jungkook sees it for what it is - he’s trying to make an effort.

“How is it with Y/n?”

Jungkook gulps, gaze widening. “Huh… well…” he trails off, eyes falling to his hands, where he’s been mindlessly pulling at the calluses he gets from working out. “It’s… great. I know she’s your sister but fuck… she’s amazing.”

“She is,” Taehyung agrees.

“But I fucked everything up in Paris when I kissed Gabrielle.”

The silence that follows is heavy, interrupted by Taehyung’s sigh what feels like an eternity later.

“Were you guys together then?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook shrugs. “We weren’t together together. But yes we were.” He pauses, and his throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper when he tries to swallow. “We started on Valentine’s Day.”

Taehyung’s nose is scrunched up, much like you sometimes do, when Jungkook looks at him. “That’s… a long time ago.”

“We ended in Paris, though,” Jungkook adds. “Except last Thursday.”

“I thought you and Lisa…” Taehyung trails off.

“It happened once last month,” Jungkook immediately explains, probably far more defensive than necessary. “And Y/n actually caught us together so… I ended things with Lisa right away.”

“I remember Lisa being pissed about it,” Taehyung admits. “But then she said that it was because of another girl, and looking back I was stupid to think it was Gaby.”

Jungkook purses his lips. “I haven’t spoken to Gaby in person since Paris. We only texted a couple of times.”

Including that one time she’d given him shit for not telling you about his promise to her.

“Right…” Taehyung trails off. He sighs, sitting back on the couch, throwing Jungkook a look. “What do you want with my sister?”

Jungkook gulps around a sudden lump in his throat. What does he want with you? He already knows, but can he tell Taehyung? Can he tell your brother that he’s so irreversibly in love with you he thinks he’s been dying since you said it was a lapse of judgment on Thursday?

That he almost died in July after he lost you?

“You want the truth?” Jungkook asks, his heart rate spiking. “I’m in love with her. I just want her to be happy, and of course I wish she’d want to be happy with me, but I don’t think that’ll happen after last Thursday.”

“You’re in love with her?” Taehyung repeats.

Jungkook gulps. “Yes.”

Taehyung nods and, to Jungkook’s surprise, taps Jungkook’s shoulder. “Noted. Come home, Jungkook. You should talk to her.”

Jungkook is stunned silent, and he just stares at Taehyung, just stares at his best friend unblinkingly, not understanding where the conversation went.

“What?”

“Come home,” Taehyung repeats. “I’m not mad at you. I was mostly mad that you both hid it from me for months, but clearly I was wrong.” He pauses, chuckles lightly. “At least that’s what Ari said. She quite literally beat some sense into me.”

So… this is it? The biggest obstacle to you and him… wasn’t even an obstacle?

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side, gaze widening as if he’s reminiscing about what happened with Ariane. “She said that I was a dick for not letting you guys figure your shit out. I think Gaby told her about the two of you.”

That would make sense, considering that the two girls are best friends. 

“Oh,” is all Jungkook manages to say.

Taehyung surveys him for a few seconds, as Jungkook’s world crumbles down around him. It’s like the floor disappeared, and he’s plummeting towards the ground with no parachute to save him.

Taehyung is not opposed to your relationship.

If you want it, Jungkook can be with you.

“So come home,” Taehyung repeats. “Talk to Y/n. Fix shit with her.” Taehyung smiles, and this time it’s fully genuine. “I just want you both to be happy.”

Jungkook nods, and he has to take a deep breath to refrain from crying then and there. “Okay.” He nods again. “Okay, I will talk to her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Taehyung just carefully observes Jungkook. Jungkook wonders, can Taehyung hear the wild beats of his heart at the perspective of talking to you?

“Can I…” Taehyung starts, and then his eyes drop to his hands in his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s heart seems to come to a full halt in his chest. “Yeah?”

“What happened last summer…” Taehyung trails off. “Is it related to Y/n?”

A bottle of wine crashing on the pavement comes to Jungkook’s mind. But he never told Taehyung - how would he know?

“What do you mean?” Jungkook replies, pulling on his piercings.

“In July.” Taehyung sighs, meeting Jungkook’s gaze for a few seconds. “Lisa told Sera, and she told me and Jimin.”

Jungkook hates it. He hates it so much, hating the vulnerability that it imposes him.

“Ah.” He gulps, and he thinks about you for a moment.

Thinks about the fact that you were the only thing on his mind when he was so close to ending it.

“It was partly caused by losing her, yes,” Jungkook finally answers, and he’s suddenly blinking back tears.

“Fuck, JK…” Taehyung trails off. “You really should have told me about her…”

“I didn’t think you’d be… open-minded,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders. “And she’d already ended things with me then.”

Taehyung nods once, and then sighs again. “Please don’t keep everything to yourself now, okay? I really don’t want you to think you’re alone. And I really don’t want you to ever feel like… that is a solution. So please talk to me, talk to Jimin whenever you need help, okay?”

Jungkook can’t speak around the lump in his throat, so all he does is nod. Taehyung understands - they’re best friends after all.

“I love you, bro,” Taehyung adds. “Please talk to Y/n.”

“I will,” Jungkook answers, his voice choked up with emotion.

All he can hope for is for you to be open to the conversation, whenever it comes. 

*****

For the first time in months, Jungkook feels at peace.

You’re here with him, and for the first time, he knows he won’t have to let go. Maybe that’s why he’s kissing you slowly, softly - you have all of eternity stretched ahead of you. Yet it seems you want more. Your kisses grow deeper, and soon his blood is pulsing at his ears, shooting down to his dick, and Jungkook pushes his tongue in your mouth.

It’s like he’s discovering you for the first time. He marvels at your sight, at your taste, at the way you moan softly against his lips. He swallows your sounds, inhales your inebriating scent, and he climbs on top of you, gently parting your legs with his knee so that he can be as close to you as possible.

He has half a thought that Taehyung is somewhere in the apartment, but the way you wrap your legs around his waist makes him forget everything until there’s just you and him.

He leaves your mouth to find your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you. A second later he’s sucking a hickey on your skin, and you moan softly, hand pulling at his hair.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

He pauses, just content with being close to you. “I love you, peach.”

Your arms wrap tightly around him, and though you have to be aware of his erection pressing against you, you both just stay there for a moment. 

“Love you too, Kook. So, so much.”

It’s the way you say the words. Jungkook immediately feels the need to be inside you, to be surrounded by you, and he kneels between your legs so that he can take off his shirt. You run a hand on his body, awe in your eyes like you, too, can’t believe you made it in the end. He takes a moment to look at you, to take in the way your eyes sparkle with emotion - with love, lust and yearning.

He loves you. And the best part about it is, you love him too.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

You sit up, taking off your shirt in one swift motion that reveals so much skin - you weren’t wearing a bra - and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane. It’s like he forgot what you looked like despite seeing you just a few days ago - it feels like a whole lifetime ago.

You’ve gained muscles over the months apart. You’re leaner, and there’s a strength to your curves that makes Jungkook’s dick twitch in his pants. The tattoo on your ribs is all too attractive too, and Jungkook takes a moment to trace it as you lie back down under his watchful gaze.

The art is beautiful. Delicate, with fine lines that have sunk perfectly in your skin. Jungkook wonders who your artist is, if they’d be able to tattoo something on him too, something to remind him of you. But then you’re whining from lack of attention, and Jungkook leans down, kissing you deeply.

You run your hands on the skin of his back, nails lightly digging in his skin, and when he grunts softly, you whisper, “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He goes fully insane. Insanely in love, perhaps. He undresses you, kissing every inch of skin revealed, and though he wants to taste you, to eat you out until you come undone on his tongue, his dick is throbbing too painfully for him to ignore it.

You’re glistening, your arousal evident the second his eyes land on you. He still takes a moment to slip two fingers inside of you as he kisses you again, swallowing your soft moans as they come. And when he thinks you’re ready, stretched enough for his dick, Jungkook takes off the rest of his clothes. His dick springs free, already rock hard like it always is with you, and he jerks himself off a couple of times as he watches you, as you watch him through half-lidded eyes.

“Condom?” he asks, though he hopes you’ll say no.

He wants to feel all of you again.

You shake your head no. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Fuck,” he curses, his dick hardening even more. “Fuck, peach, I love you.”

He comes closer, rubbing his tip on you, collecting your juices. It’s so sensitive without a condom, and he has to bite the tip of his tongue so that he doesn’t come right away. It doesn’t help that you’re so wet. That a moment later he’s slipping in, inch after inch, your walls sucking him in. 

It doesn’t help that you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows bunch together from the pleasure. You’re so hot like this, so sinfully beautiful, and some feral part of him just wants to pound into you, to fuck you until the whole neighbourhood knows that you’re his forever now.

But he tames himself, slowly pulls out before pushing all the way in again. 

“Kook,” you moan, and your hand finds one of his where it’s holding your waist. “Come close.”

You don’t have to ask twice, especially not as he wants you close, too. So he bends down, cages you between his forearms, and then he establishes a slow rhythm. Your hips lift to meet his, your walls tightening around him from the motion, and he knows he’ll come fast.

You’re too tight, too wet, for him to hold on for a long time. So he tells you how much he loves you. Whispers on your lips that he never wants to be separated from you again, that he thinks you’re the reason he’s alive. You confess your love back, tell him that he’s so worthy of your love, that you wouldn’t want anyone other than him. 

You tell him that you’ll love him when you’re old, which makes him laugh against your lips. There’s beauty in the thought, in the knowledge that he does have a lifetime with you.

“You’re…” he trails off, because he has no words to describe how amazing you are, and his dick is stealing most of the blood from his brain.

So he kisses you instead. Kisses you slow, kisses you deep, his motions growing faster until they turn sloppy, and then he pushes all the way in, his dick twitching as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. You hold him tight, pussy pulsating around him, and Jungkook’s high keeps going on and on, your lips muffling his groans and soft moans.

“I love you,” he says again when he starts being able to think once more.

He’ll never get tired of telling you.

“I love you too, Kook,” you whisper.

He’ll never get tired of hearing that, too.

Read chapter fifteen here!

☆☆☆☆☆

he is so in love with her please send help. Let me know what you think of the drabble!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[thepinkpanther83]

And They Were Roommates (Pt.15)

Chapter Fifteen: “Costumes and Catastrophes”

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Previous Chapter: Chapter Fourteen: “All Tangled Up” Next Chapter: Chapter Sixteen: “Sanctuary in the Storm”

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter Fifteen: "Costumes and Catastrophes" The Halloween store was chaos.

Plastic masks, fake cobwebs, cheap polyester costumes jammed onto metal racks- it smelled like rubber, desperation, and pre-teen body spray. Eddie loved it. Naturally.

You, however, were starting to second-guess agreeing to let him pick your costumes.

Eddie bounded down the cluttered aisle, arms full of absolute nonsense. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Babe. Babe. Look. We could be Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein- you know, all tall and freaky… oh, or Dracula and his sexy victim-" he wiggled his eyebrows- "or- OR- hear me out… zombie rock stars."

He was vibrating with excitement.

You crossed your arms, trying not to laugh. "You’re just picking anything that lets you wear eyeliner in public without judgment."

He gasped. "That is slanderous, and also correct."

You laughed, "Alright, Munson. What else did you have in mind for our costumes?"

He grinned, clearly having pondered this a lot. "Well, we could go as Maverick and Charlie from 'Top Gun'. Or maybe channel our inner rock gods- think KISS and Madonna."

You playfully swatted his chest. "As long as I don't have to wear a cone bra."

He feigned offense. "But it's iconic!"

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "Let's keep brainstorming. Maybe something a bit more us."

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Whatever we choose, it'll be perfect. Just like you."

He wandered off, and you smiled, continuing to riffle through a rack of crinkly plastic bags, pretending to consider a "sexy nurse" outfit, just to watch Eddie's eyes bug out.

He immediately reappeared at your side like a demon summoned by thirst alone.

"Wear that. Wear only that. Wear nothing under that."

You rolled your eyes, tossing it at him. "Dream on, Munson."

He grinned, completely unfazed.

Then- because it was Eddie -he ducked behind a rack of costumes, popped back out with something clutched behind his back, and waggled his eyebrows dramatically.

"Okay. Okay. I got it. I got the winner. Don’t get mad, 'kay?"

You gave him the flattest look you could muster. "That’s a terrible way to start a sentence."

He revealed it with a flourish.

A Han Solo costume... and next to it, in another bag, a glint of gold: a Slave Leia costume.

You gawked.

He beamed. "I mean, come on, sweetheart. It’s perfect. I’m Han- you’re Leia… think about it- forbidden love, intergalactic tension… hot people doing hot things- it’s basically already us."

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

"You’re serious," you deadpanned.

"Deadly."

His grin was the most shit-eating thing you’d ever seen in your life.

"I mean, think about it. The sheer nerd clout I'd earn walking into Harrington’s party with you on my arm dressed like this? The way Steve's dumbass head would explode? Babe. Babe. Please."

You swore he actually batted his lashes at you.

It was disgustingly effective.

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. "You're the worst."

"I'm the best," he corrected smugly, plucking the costume back from your limp hands and marching toward the dressing rooms.

"C'mon, Princess," he called over his shoulder. "Let’s see how good you look in chains."

You flipped him off. He blew you a kiss.

Twenty minutes later, you emerged from the dressing room in a cloud of cheap metallic fabric and existential regret.

The Slave Leia costume was... well.

It was something.

The gold bikini top barely contained you, the slave collar chain around your neck was already digging into your collarbone, and the skirt was so revealing you were pretty sure a stiff breeze would send you straight to indecent exposure charges.

You tugged at it, scowling.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered.

Eddie, meanwhile, had already changed into his Han Solo getup- blue pants, thigh holster, boots, vest that somehow made his shoulders look even broader- and was leaning against the mirror with his arms crossed, chewing on his bottom lip like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

Or drool.

Or both.

"Oh my god," he breathed, eyes raking over you like he was committing every inch to memory.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Don't."

Eddie held up his hands in surrender, but his grin was pure sin. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Sweetheart, I'm thinking so many things right now."

You huffed, turning back to the mirror to adjust the stupid chain again.

Eddie stepped up behind you, hands hovering just above your waist like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch you yet.

"You look..." His voice dropped, rough and reverent. "Fuck."

You met his gaze in the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie swallowed hard.

"Like I’m gonna have to fight every guy at that party just to keep you in my line of sight," he admitted, voice thick.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks burned.

"Dramatic."

Eddie leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"You love it."

You shivered.

He smirked, stepping back and adjusting his holster with a cocky swagger.

"Alright, Princess," he said, nodding toward the register. "Let’s go make Harrington regret inviting us."

You groaned, but followed him anyway.

Because, yeah.

You did love it.

And Eddie knew it.

They changed back to their street clothes and made their way to the cash register. The cashier- a bored-looking teenager with blue hair and a nose ring, barely glanced up as Eddie slammed the costumes onto the counter with all the gravitas of a man purchasing the Holy Grail.

"We'll take these," he announced, like he was declaring war.

The kid blinked at him, unimpressed, and slowly dragged the barcode scanner over the plastic packaging.

Eddie leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Listen, man. You got any of those little gold arm cuffs? Y'know, to complete the look?"

The cashier stared at him. "Over there." He pointed at a messy display nearby.

Eddie lit up like a Christmas tree. "Amazing!"

You buried your face in your hands.

Five minutes later, Eddie was practically skipping out of the store, plastic bags swinging from his fingers, grin brighter than the fluorescent lights inside.

"This is gonna be legendary," he declared, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Harrington’s gonna lose his goddamn mind."

You groaned. "I regret everything."

Eddie kissed your temple. "No you don’t."

You didn’t. Not really, not when it made him so happy.

Halloween Night

Steve Harrington’s house was packed.

Music thumped through the walls, bodies pressed together in the dim glow of orange string lights, and the air smelled like smoke, cheap beer and pumpkin spice.

Eddie had insisted on making an entrance.

Which is how you found yourself standing on Steve’s porch, shivering in the cool October air, while Eddie adjusted the chain around your neck for the twelfth time.

"Perfect," he murmured, fingers lingering just a second too long on your collarbone.

You elbowed him. "Stop stalling."

Eddie grinned, wild and wicked, before throwing the door open with a flourish.

The second you both stepped inside, the party stopped.

Or at least, that’s how it felt.

Heads turned. Conversations stuttered. Someone dropped a plastic cup.

Eddie beamed.

Steve Harrington, standing near the punch bowl in a half-assed Indiana Jones costume, froze mid-sip, eyes widening as they landed on you.

Then on Eddie.

Then back on you.

His mouth fell open.

"Oh my god," Robin Buckley, standing next to Steve in a cobbled-together Marion Ravenwood outfit from Raiders of The Lost Ark, let out a piercing wolf-whistle that cut through the music.

"HOLY SHIT," she yelled, slamming her cup down on the table hard enough to slosh punch everywhere.

Steve choked on his drink.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, loud and unashamed, before slinging an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his side.

"Told you," he whispered in your ear, voice smug as hell.

You were mortified.

And also- stupidly -kinda turned on and giddy.

Because Eddie was radiant like this- all confidence and chaos, basking in the attention, in the way every eye in the room was locked on the two of you.

And yeah, okay, maybe the way his fingers were digging possessively into your hip wasn’t entirely for show.

The air felt thick, every nerve ending buzzing under the weight of a hundred staring eyes. You clung to Eddie’s side like a lifeline, heart hammering, cheeks burning- but when you glanced up at him again, radiant and proud, you found yourself smiling too.

Steve finally recovered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Munson," he said, voice strangled. "What the hell."

Eddie grinned. "Happy Halloween, Harrington."

Robin grabbed Steve’s arm, shaking him violently. "STEVE. LOOK AT THEM. THEY’RE ALL MATCHY."

Steve looked.

Then immediately looked away, face red.

"Jesus Christ."

Eddie’s smirk could’ve powered a small country.

The party slowly roared back to life around you- laughter, whispers, someone in the back yelling "HELL YEAH, STAR WARS!" -but Eddie didn’t leave your side.

He just leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Still regret it?"

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze.

His eyes were dark.

"Not even a little," you admitted.

Eddie’s grin turned feral.

"Good."

Then he grabbed your hand and dragged you into the crowd, toward the music, toward the chaos, toward the rest of the night-

-and you followed, laughing, because of course you did.

Because he was Eddie.

And you were his.

And that was everything.

The party swallowed you both whole.

Eddie, predictably, was a menace.

He dragged you into the swirling mass of bodies, laughing, spinning you like a princess at a deranged royal ball. His hands were everywhere- your waist, your back, that cursed slave collar chain at your throat that he kept tugging just enough to make your knees wobble.

You tried to glare at him. It was completely ineffective.

"You’re drunk on attention," you accused, trying not to trip over someone’s discarded pirate hat.

Eddie grinned, unapologetic. "I’m drunk on you, sweetheart."

Before you could sass him back, a loud bang echoed from somewhere in the backyard, followed by a chorus of ohhhh shit! and the unmistakable smell of smoke.

Eddie lit up. "Chaos!"

You groaned, letting him drag you out back toward the ruckus.

Turns out, someone- probably Tommy Hagan, if you had to guess, had tried to deep-fry mozzarella sticks in a cheap Halloween cauldron. It had ended exactly the way you’d expect- with Steve flapping a dish towel at the outdoor smoke alarm and Robin laughing so hard she collapsed against a table.

In the middle of the smoky mess, a voice shouted:

"HEY, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED OUT HERE?!"

You turned-

Dustin Henderson.

Back from whatever fancy-pants science camp he’d been at all summer, taller, a little broader, still somehow radiating pure goblin energy. His hair was tucked under a ridiculous cowboy hat, and he had a plastic lightsaber dangling from his belt like a six-shooter.

The second he spotted you and Eddie, his face lit up.

"DUDE!" Dustin bellowed, barreling through the crowd. "YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"

Eddie spread his arms, smirking. "Told you, Henderson. We’d be Legendary."

Dustin came skidding to a stop in front of you, panting, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You-" he pointed at Eddie, "are insane. And you-" he pointed at you, eyes wide with awe, "are a goddess. Holy shit."

You laughed, heat flooding your cheeks. "Thanks, Dusty."

He recovered fast, though, because he immediately turned on Eddie with a cackle.

"And you’re dead, by the way. You realize that, right?"

Eddie blinked. "What?"

Dustin jabbed a thumb toward the back door. "Half the dudes in there are plotting your murder."

Eddie puffed up like an indignant cat. "Let 'em try. I'll fight 'em all. I'll fight 'em right now."

You rolled your eyes and shoved him toward a bench and table. "You’ll avoid causing a scene before Steve throws us out on our asses."

Eddie whined, but obeyed, grumbling dramatically.

Dustin sidled closer, elbowing you conspiratorially. "You look really happy," he said, voice softer.

You blinked, caught off guard.

"I am," you admitted.

Dustin grinned, wide and genuine. "Good. You deserve it. Both of you."

You were about to thank him- maybe even hug him- when the floor suddenly shook.

Like, actual structural movement.

Everyone froze.

A moment of silence.

Then-

CRASH.

The back porch lights exploded in a violent shower of sparks, raining tiny flames down onto the grass below.

People screamed. Steve cursed. Robin yelled something about electrical fires.

And through the smoke and flickering lights, you caught sight of the real culprits:

A trio of meatheads from Hawkins High- Jake, Ricky, and that moron Brian, standing at the far end of the backyard, frozen like guilty raccoons caught in the garbage. Behind them, the heavy steel keg someone had clearly been trying to hook up to an old, half-rotted generator was now rolling drunkenly across the lawn, trailing a thick black power cord like a wounded snake.

"Oh my god," you gasped, horrified. "They tried to power the keg."

Dustin’s jaw dropped. "That’s... actually kinda genius."

Eddie grabbed your hand immediately, instinctively, protectively. His palm was hot against yours, his voice low and firm.

"Stay with me, Princess."

You tightened your grip on his fingers.

"Were they going to-?" Dustin started to ask-

-and then, from the busted-open back door, another voice rang out:

"What the hell is going on out here?!"

You whipped around-

-and there stood Chief Jim Hopper.

Somehow more intimidating than a goddamn dragon.

Hat shoved low, boots planted wide, badge flashing in the flickering party lights.

He looked pissed.

Eddie gulped nervously.

You could feel the tremor in his fingers still tangled with yours.

Dustin, to his credit, tried to smooth things over. "Uh, Chief Hopper! Hey, good to see you! We were just-"

"-electrocuting yourselves?" Hopper barked, stepping further onto the back porch, boots thunking heavily against the warped floorboards.

His gaze swept over the wreckage- shattered bulbs, overturned beer cups, the smoldering extension cord, and landed squarely on Eddie.

Eddie straightened like a man about to face a firing squad.

"You know, technically, this isn’t my house," he said weakly. "So, uh, property damage? Not really my jurisdiction."

You had to bite your lip to hide a laugh.

Dustin gave him a look that screamed, Dude, shut up.

Hopper exhaled hard, pinching the bridge of his nose, like he was doing math in his head to avoid throttling everyone.

"You," he jabbed a finger at the three keg-saboteurs, who flinched. "Over there. Now. You’re cleaning that mess before anyone leaves."

He turned back to the rest of the party, voice booming:

"And if one more goddamn thing blows up tonight, I’m hauling every single one of you down to the station. That clear? There’s been noise complaints!"

A chorus of "Yes, sir," "Sorry, sir," and a few mock terrified squeaks rippled through the crowd.

Hopper adjusted his hat, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Buncha goddamn idiots," under his breath, and with a last sharp glare at Eddie, stomped away.

The second the door slammed shut, Eddie sagged like a puppet with cut strings.

"Well," he croaked, "that was horrifying."

Dustin clapped him on the shoulder. "Dude, you looked like you were gonna puke."

"I was gonna puke," Eddie muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Then he grinned at you sideways, all mischief sparking back to life.

"But... Hopper didn't actually shut us down. Which means-"

Robin popped her head around the corner, raising a fresh bottle of rum like a trophy.

"Party’s back on, bitches!"

The crowd roared. Music cranked back up. Someone dragged the surviving coolers closer to the fire pit. A little battered, a little scorched- but very much alive, the Harrington house party roared back to life.

And Eddie, hand still clasping yours, leaned close to murmur against your ear, voice low and wicked: "Now where were we, Princess?"

"Why were you so nervous? You looked about ready to shit yourself," you teased, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright.

Eddie groaned, tipping his head back dramatically like the sky was personally attacking him.

"Because," he hissed under his breath, "I have a history with Hopper, okay?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "History?"

He dropped his voice lower, glancing around to make sure none of the nosy partygoers were eavesdropping.

"Let's just say… there may have been a few occasions in my youth where certain herbal substances were exchanged for certain totally reasonable amounts of cash, and Hopper may or may not have caught me red-handed. Once. Or, y'know. Three times."

You snorted. "You dealt weed to an undercover cop?"

"Technically," Eddie said, holding up a finger, "I dealt weed near an undercover cop who just happened to be Hopper's cousin visiting from outta town. Minor technicality."

You couldn’t help it- you burst out laughing.

Eddie looked equal parts embarrassed and pleased with himself, shoving his free hand into his pocket and scuffing his boot on the floor like a guilty kid.

"And then Hopper caught me trying to run, then he caught me hiding in the elementary school playground tunnel, then he caught me trying to bribe him with my Iron Maiden cassette."

You wheezed. "Your Iron Maiden cassette?"

"It was a limited edition!" Eddie cried, affronted.

"Anyway," he grumbled, squeezing your hand a little tighter, "we’ve had a mutual understanding ever since. I don’t screw up too badly in public, and he doesn’t throw my ass back in jail. Most days."

You leaned against him, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

"So basically," you said, "you’re one more power outage away from being back in cuffs?"

Eddie grinned down at you, wicked and warm and absolutely unrepentant. "Baby," he murmured, "if you want me in cuffs, all you have to do is ask."

The moment the words left his mouth, your face burned so hot you were pretty sure you could fry an egg on your cheeks. Eddie’s grin widened, sharp and victorious, like he’d just won some unseen battle.

"Oh-ho-ho," he purred, leaning in so close his breath ghosted over your ear. "Now that’s a reaction I’m gonna remember."

You shoved him, but he barely budged, just laughed- loud and unashamed, before catching your wrist and pulling you flush against him.

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmured, lips brushing your temple. "I’m just messing with you."

A pause.

"Unless?"

You groaned, burying your face in his chest to hide the way your entire body was reacting to him. "You’re the worst."

Eddie chuckled, low and pleased, fingers tracing idle patterns against your back. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

You didn’t deny it.

Couldn’t.

Because it was true.

The party raged on around you, but Eddie didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

Not when Steve finally cornered him by the snack table to grumble about "ruining his party with your weird-ass nerd costumes."

Not when Robin drunkenly tried to teach Dustin how to salsa dance- it went horribly.

Eddie just smirked, tugged you closer, and whispered, "See? We survived."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Because yeah, you had, and you were having fun.

Eddie suggested you head back to his van to get away from the noise and, “smoke a bowl he wouldn’t have to share with the entire party”. You were both a few beers and liquor shots in and feeling pretty giddy. The walk back to his van was quiet, the air crisp with the first real bite of autumn.

Eddie had his jacket slung over your shoulders- "Don’t want my Princess catching a cold," and his fingers were laced with yours, warm and steady.

You glanced at him, at the way the moonlight caught in his dark curls, at the satisfied little smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Eddie tugged open the van’s side door with a rusty creak, ushering you inside first with a gallant little bow.

"Your chariot awaits, m’lady," he said, voice slurring just enough to be adorable.

Inside, the van smelled like leather, cigarette smoke, and that cheap cologne he always over-sprayed but somehow made work. The back was a chaotic nest of blankets, like he’d planned for this moment.

He climbed in after you, pulled the door shut, and the world outside faded into muffled bass and crackling fire pit smoke.

It was just you and him now.

And his eyes-

God, his eyes.

All dark and greedy, dragging slow over you like he was trying to memorize every inch.

You fidgeted under the weight of his stare, tugging the edges of his jacket tighter around you.

He licked his lips absently. "You’re, uh… you’re really killin’ me tonight, Princess," he mumbled, thumbing the old metal Zippo lighter he pulled from his pocket. "You know that, right?"

You gave him your most innocent look. "Me? I’m not doing anything."

Eddie snorted, a low, disbelieving sound.

"Yeah, okay. Tell that to my rapidly deteriorating self-control."

He dug out a small, battered pipe and a baggie of green, his fingers deft even with the alcohol in his system. You watched him pack it, the motions practiced, easy- the tension between you thick enough to taste.

He struck the lighter, the tiny flame painting his face in gold for a heartbeat, and took a slow hit, holding it, eyes fluttering closed like he was savoring it. Then he leaned forward, mischievous and boyish and somehow devastating all at once.

"Want a hit, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and rough. "It’s primo stuff. Swear to God, it’ll make you see stars."

You nodded, heart hammering against your ribs.

Eddie grinned, all teeth and trouble, and shifted closer, so close his thigh brushed yours.

He took another slow pull- and this time, instead of passing you the pipe, he caught your chin in his calloused fingers, moved his mouth centimeters from yours, and exhaled the smoke between your lips, lazy and deliberate.

Your lips parted on instinct, and you inhaled, heat rushing straight to your head- and not just from the weed.

The sheer audacity of it- the closeness, the way his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth after, rough and sweet and so very Eddie- made your whole body light up like the damn Fourth of July.

He watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, pleased.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice rumbling in his chest.

You coughed once, half from the smoke, half from the way his praise always punched you right in the gut.

Eddie laughed, loose and easy, flopping back against the blankets, taking another slow drag from the pipe and exhaling slowly, filling the space with a cloud of smoke, watching as the patterns swirled and moved around you almost hypnotically.

"Y'know," he drawled, "if I die tonight- heart attack, spontaneous combustion, whatever… just know, it was worth it. Totally worth it."

You crawled closer to him without thinking, emboldened by the tipsy buzz, the way he was looking at you like you hung the damn stars. You straddled his lap- tentative, unsure in such a public setting, but Eddie just went still, hands flying up like you were some skittish creature he didn’t wanna spook.

"Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa," he breathed, grinning so big it hurt. "Are you trying to kill me? Because this is... this is murder, sweetheart. First-degree."

You shrugged, letting his jacket slip down your arms just enough to show a little more skin. "Figured we should finish what we’ve started."

Eddie let out a strangled noise, part laugh, part groan, before setting aside his pipe, and giving in entirely- hands settling gently, reverently, at your hips.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he whispered, absolutely in awe.

You leaned down, so close your noses brushed.

"Not tonight," you murmured, smiling against his mouth.

"Tonight, you're gonna live."

And then you kissed him.

And Eddie Munson- loudmouth, hellraiser, chaos incarnate, melted under you like sugar in the rain.

His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. The moment your lips met, it was like someone had struck a match inside him- sudden, hungry, all-consuming.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the taste of you, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment all night- hell, maybe he had. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and when he nipped at your bottom lip, you swore you saw actual stars behind your eyelids.

"Fuck," he breathed against your mouth, voice wrecked already. "You’re gonna make all my prepubescent fantasies a reality, sweetheart." He said, giving your slave collar a tug.

You rolled your hips against him, just to hear the way his breath hitched, just to feel the way his fingers spasmed against your skin.

Eddie groaned, deep and ragged, tipping his head back against the van wall. "Jesus Christ. You’re trying to kill me."

You grinned, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, reveling in the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "I said you would live tonight."

"Yeah, but-" His words dissolved into a choked sound as you rocked against him again, slow and deliberate. "-fuck, okay, yeah, this is living. This is definitely living."

His hands slid up your sides, rough and reverent all at once, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the stupid gold, metal bikini top. He hesitated there, just for a second, like he was asking permission.

You answered by arching into his touch.

Eddie made a noise that was half growl, half prayer, before his fingers hooked under the metallic  fabric, tugging it down just enough to expose your nipples to the cool air- and his burning gaze.

"Fuck," he whispered again, like he couldn’t believe his luck. You, out here in his van in public view, dressed like so many of his teenage wet dreams come to life, "You’re perfect, you know that?"

You shivered under his attention, under the way his eyes darkened as he took you in.

Then his mouth was on you- hot, wet, insistent, and you nearly forgot how to breathe.

His tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing, tasting, before he sucked hard enough to make your back bow off his lap.

"Eddie-"

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending another jolt straight between your legs.

"Yeah, baby?" he murmured, his voice rough, ragged, drunk off you.

You tangled your fingers in his wild hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your breast, until he looked up at you- his pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips shiny from where he'd been kissing your breasts like a man starved.

You licked your lips slowly, deliberately, loving the way his gaze tracked the movement like a predator.

"I wanna make you feel good," you whispered, emboldened by the way he was already unraveling under your touch. "Wanna take care of you, Eddie."

Eddie froze for a split second, save for the sharp inhale he dragged through his nose, like his brain short-circuited. Then he tipped his head back against the van wall with a thud, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like holy fuckin' Christ.

"You- you don’t have to-" he stammered, the words more reflex than true protest, because his hips were already rolling forward, like he couldn’t help himself.

"But… F-fuck, sweetheart," he stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown so big they swallowed the brown whole. "You… Jesus Christ. You sure?"

You nodded, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear the bass still thudding from the party outside.

He looked at you like you’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

"Shit, okay. Okay, c’mere, gorgeous."

You kissed him again, hard and greedy, your hands already sliding down his chest, over the soft fabric of his vest, feeling the way his muscles flexed and twitched beneath your palms. He was already half-hard under you, pressing insistently against the seam of his pants.

You shifted back just enough to pop the button open with practiced ease, slow and deliberate, dragging the zipper down in one long, slow, agonizing pull just to watch him squirm, it had him groaning deep in his throat.

"Fuckin’- you’re gonna be the end of me, baby," he muttered, head thunking back against the van wall again.

You slipped your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around him through the thin cotton of his boxers. He was hot and heavy and throbbing in your hand, twitching when you gave him the lightest squeeze before pulling your hand back out.

Eddie whimpered- low and desperate.

"You’re not real," he said, voice breaking. "There’s no way you’re real."

You just smiled sweetly at him as you lowered yourself to your knees between his spread legs, the blankets underneath you shifting, the whole van creaking slightly with your movement. Your smile turned wicked and sweet all at once, hands sliding up his thighs- feeling the muscles tense under your palms. "I’ve been wanting to do this for a while." You confess, while Eddie lifted his hips obediently when you tugged his Han Solo pants and boxers down together, far enough to free him, groaning under his breath when his cock sprang free- thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. He hissed when the cool air hit it.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he gasped, voice wrecked. "You’re- fuck- you’re a dream."

And God, the look he gave you- like you personally had delivered him to heaven's gate, was enough to have your own thighs clenching.

God, he was pretty- thick, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of pre-cum already glistening there. You wrapped your hand around him, giving a slow, lazy stroke from root to tip, loving the way his whole body shuddered at the touch, and he cursed viciously, clutching the blanket underneath him like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He was heavy in your hand, hot and throbbing, and the needy little sounds he made when you swiped your thumb over the head- smearing the precum down the shaft, were nothing short of addictive.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue flick out to catch the bead of moisture gathering at the tip.

Eddie swore, a raw, desperate sound, both hands flying to bury in your hair, not pulling necessarily, just holding, like he needed the anchor.

You took your time, kitten-licking him from base to tip, letting your spit pool against him before swirling your tongue around the head, teasing, savoring every twitch and curse that fell from his lips. He slowly released your hair as he tried to control himself.

"You’re fuckin' evil," he said hoarsely, but there was no heat in it, only awe.

You leaned in, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock in one long, slow lick that had his thighs trembling under your hands. You lapped at the tip, tasting the salt-sharp tang of him, before swirling your tongue around it, teasing, playful.

Eddie made a broken, wrecked noise and bucked his hips slightly, chasing the heat of your mouth.

"Shit, sweetheart, please," he babbled, already half out of his mind. "Please, please, fuck, don’t tease me, I can’t-"

You took pity on him, finally wrapping your lips around the head and sinking down, taking him deeper, inch by slow inch, until the head bumped the back of your throat.

Eddie lost it, his hands flying back to your hair, tangling there- again, not pushing, just holding, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he was terrified you’d vanish if he let go.

"Fuck, baby, fuck," he groaned, hips jerking up instinctively before he caught himself, fists clenching in your hair. "M'sorry- shit, you’re just- fuck, you’re perfect."

You bobbed your head, setting a slow, steady rhythm, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Every time you sank down, he made this guttural sound, deep and wrecked and absolutely fucking beautiful.

Spit was already dripping down your chin, slicking your hand, making everything wet and messy and so goddamn good.

You hummed low in your throat, the vibration making him buck again, and this time you encouraged him.

You relaxed your throat, let him slide deeper, your fingers digging into his thighs for leverage as you bobbed your head in slow, messy strokes.

The van filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your mouth working him over- slick, sloppy, filthy, and Eddie sounded even worse, moaning brokenly, whispering your name like a prayer, a curse, a benediction.

"Goddamn," he panted, one hand sliding down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in a sweet, almost reverent gesture. "So pretty with your mouth full of my cock. My pretty girl."

You moaned around him, the praise shooting straight to your pussy, and Eddie somehow felt it- felt the way you squeezed your thighs together, the way you sucked him deeper in response.

"You’re so good at this," Eddie panted, thighs trembling under your palms. "Fuck, baby, you’re too good, s’too good, I can’t-"

You moaned around him, the vibration making him jolt, curse, babble nonsense you couldn’t even make out.

You let your free hand drift up, palming his balls gently, rolling them in your hand, and Eddie convulsed, his hips jerking helplessly.

"Fuckfuckfuck-"

You pulled off just long enough to catch your breath, your lips swollen around the tip of his cock. Eddie looked down at you, wide-eyed and wrecked, his chest heaving, hair wild around his face.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, voice broken. "You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Holy shit, baby."

You smirked, licking a stripe up the vein throbbing along the underside of his cock, before swallowing him down again, deeper this time, until your nose brushed the rough patch of hair at his base.

Eddie groaned, slamming his head back against the van wall.

"Shit, shit, shit- fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last- gonna cum if you keep- baby, baby- you gotta- fuck, you gotta stop unless you wanna-"

Your nails dug into his thighs to hold him still when he tried to jerk away, tried to save you from what he clearly thought was a mistake.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, strings of spit and precum connecting your lips to the flushed head of his cock, and smiled up at him, smug and sinful.

"That's kinda the point, isn't it?" you teased, voice wrecked from the strain on your throat. “Mm… so sensitive.”

Eddie whimpered again.

"Please," he gasped, shameless now, hips rocking forward, chasing your mouth. "Please, sweetheart- wanna cum in your mouth- please-"

You wanted this- wanted him- wanted him to come undone for you, messy and desperate and wrecked.

You licked a broad stripe up the underside of his cock before taking him back in your mouth, harder this time, faster, messy and greedy, hollowing your cheeks and twisting your wrist in time with the bob of your head.

Eddie's thighs were trembling under your hands now, his breath coming in ragged gasps, fingers flexing helplessly in your hair.

You reached up to cradle his balls again, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Fucking… baby-"

You hollowed your cheeks, sucked hard, and that was it.

Eddie shattered.

He came with a hoarse, strangled cry of your name, hips stuttering, his thighs locking up, whole body going taut as a bowstring as he spilled thick, hot spurts painting the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, greedily, savoring the taste, the way he shook under your hands, the broken whimpers spilling from his lips like you were his whole fucking world, you moaned at the taste, the feel, the way he fucking fell apart for you.

You milked him through it, kept sucking him, gentle now, slowing your pace, letting him ride it out, licking him clean, savoring every twitch and whimper he gave you. His hand stroking through your hair in something like gratitude, something like awe.

He stared at you with blown-out eyes, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. When you finally pulled off him with a soft pop, he looked absolutely destroyed- flushed, wide-eyed, boneless, and grinning like a man who had just seen God and lived to tell the tale.

"You," he panted, chest heaving, "are a goddess, sweetheart. I’m- fuck, I’m never gonna recover from that."

You just grinned, smug and satisfied, and a little dizzy from the intensity of it, crawling back up into his lap, straddling him again. He caught your face in his hands, kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips. Your breaths tangling. His skin was too hot, too tight, like his body didn’t know whether to collapse or soar.

"You are," he said, voice reverent, "the best thing that’s ever happened to me." he looked into your eyes earnestly, "I don't just love you," he said, voice low. "I'm pretty sure you're it for me."

The world held its breath.

Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blared- a ridiculous reminder that the world kept turning outside your perfect little moment.

Then he let out a breathless little laugh, cuddling you against his chest, burying his nose in your hair.

"And I am so gonna return the favor, sweetheart," he promised, voice thick with dirty, earnest devotion. "Count on it."

You caught the faintest shimmer of starlight caught in the mess of his hair, like even the universe had decided to leave a fingerprint behind.

Eddie didn’t want to let go of you, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he was scared you’d evaporate into mist if he loosened his grip. His heart thundered against your chest, his breathing still a little ragged, but you could feel the giddy smile pulling at his lips where he pressed kisses into your collarbones.

“You're officially a war crime, sweetheart," he mumbled against your skin. "I'm filing a grievance with the Geneva Convention.”

You snorted, your whole body trembling with leftover adrenaline and laughter.

"Oh yeah?" you teased, dragging your fingers lazily over the tattoos on his arms. "Whatcha gonna tell 'em? That I sucked you dry within an inch of your life?"

He groaned, half in agony, half in awe.

"Don't say it like that," he whined dramatically, thumping his head back against the van wall again. "I’m still seein’ stars, babe. Gimme like, five business days to recover."

You giggled, shifting to press a kiss to his jaw, and he turned his head to catch your lips with his, soft and sweet this time. No rush. No urgency. Just Eddie, tasting you, savoring you, holding you like you were something fragile and precious and entirely his.

The distant thump of bass from the party outside was starting to die down, replaced by the murmur of voices and the occasional car door slamming shut. It was late- almost time for phase two of tonight’s big, dumb, spooky adventure.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, still glassy and worshipful.

“C’mon, Munson," you said gently, brushing a few wild curls off his forehead. "We gotta get moving if we’re gonna make it to the haunted house."

Eddie groaned again- a different kind of groan this time.

"Don’t remind me," he said, stretching his arms above his head like a big lazy cat, every muscle rippling under his rumpled clothes. "I was hopin’ I could keep you here, locked in my van of sin, forever."

You laughed and rolled off him, tugging your Slave Leia costume back into something resembling order.

"As tempting as that sounds," you said dryly, "I kinda promised Steve I wouldn’t bail. He’s been weirdly intense about it all night."

Eddie wrinkled his nose, fumbling to tuck himself back into his pants.

"Yeah, 'cause Harrington’s got a hero complex and he thinks he’s gonna save some dumbass kid from getting fake-possessed or whatever."

You laughed, "It’s not fake! They say the old Carson House is actually haunted."

Eddie shot you a flat look, deadpan as hell.

"Sweetheart. If ghosts were real, I would've been possessed like seventeen times by now. You know how much sketchy shit I've touched?"

You snickered, sliding over to bop him on the nose.

"Just try not to antagonize the spirits tonight, Munson."

He smirked, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back down into his lap for a quick, dirty kiss that left you breathless.

"No promises," he murmured against your lips. "But if some vengeful ghost wants to possess me and make me rail you into next week, I won't complain."

You shoved him, laughing, and he finally let you go.

Outside the van, the cool autumn air hit you immediately- crisp, sharp, and smelling faintly of bonfires and wet leaves. The party was winding down, the last stragglers laughing and yelling as they made their way to cars parked haphazardly along the dirt road.

You spotted Steve first, standing next to Robin by his BMW, arms crossed, looking very much like a stressed-out dad waiting for his delinquent teenagers to get their shit together. Dustin was perched on the hood, swinging his legs impatiently.

Steve’s eyes landed on you and Eddie, and immediately, he threw his hands in the air.

"Finally! Jesus Christ, what were you two doing? We’re gonna miss the good haunting window!"

Robin snorted, elbowing him.

"Relax, Dad. Ghosts don’t exactly punch a time clock."

Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close, totally unbothered by Steve’s melodramatics. "We were conducting... spiritual research," he said solemnly, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You hid your grin against his side as Steve made a gagging noise loud enough for the whole county to hear.

"Gross," Dustin said flatly. "You're gross. Both of you."

You and Eddie just laughed, totally unapologetic.

"C'mon, lovebirds," Robin called, already climbing into the passenger seat. "Let’s go get our souls devoured or whatever."

Eddie squeezed you one more time, whispering low against your ear, "Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosties."

You turned your face up to his, smiling slow and wickedly.

"I’m not scared," you said sweetly. "But you might be when they start throwing shit at your head."

He barked out a laugh, kissing your forehead before tugging you toward Steve’s car.

“Bring it on, Casper,” Eddie muttered under his breath, grinning like a man about to make very bad decisions.

The moment you all pulled up to the Carson House, the energy shifted. Even Eddie- who’d spent the entire car ride cracking jokes about ghostly handjobs and ectoplasmic jizz, went quiet as he took in the looming, dilapidated structure.

The house was old. The kind of old that made your skin prickle just looking at it. Peeling paint, sagging porch, windows like hollowed-out eyes staring back at you. The October wind whistled through the broken slats, carrying the faint scent of damp wood and something... metallic.

Steve cut the engine, and for a second, no one moved.

Then Dustin, ever the fearless little shit, clapped his hands together.

"Alright, team! Let’s get spooked!"

Robin groaned, rubbing her arms. "I regret everything. I should’ve stayed home with a bowl of popcorn and Poltergeist."

Eddie, still pressed against your side, smirked. "Oh, c’mon, Buckley. Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"In my bed. Under ten blankets. With the lights on."

You snorted, but your fingers tightened around Eddie’s anyway as you all piled out of the car.

Steve, ever the reluctant leader, pulled two small flashlights from his back pocket, handed one to Robin and flicked his on. The beam cut through the darkness like a knife as they walked toward the house.

"Alright, ground rules," he announced, voice firm. "No splitting up. No touching weird shit. And if anything starts moving on its own, we leave. Got it?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom."

Steve shot him a glare. "I’m serious, Munson. Last time you ‘investigated’ something, you came back with a black eye and a stolen stop sign."

"That was one time!"

You squeezed Eddie’s hand. "Let’s just get on with this."

He grinned down at you, all teeth and mischief. "Aw, sweetheart. You’re no fun."

Then he leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Unless you wanna sneak off and make out in the haunted master bedroom."

You shoved him, laughing, and he stumbled dramatically into Dustin, who squawked in protest.

The front door creaked open with a groan that sounded way too much like a dying animal.

Steve took point, flashlight raised like a sword, the beam trembling slightly as he stepped over the threshold and flicked on the lights that only just vaguely worked. The floorboards groaned under his weight, the sound echoing through the hollow belly of the house like a warning.

They walked in further, looking around. The air that rushed out to meet you wasn’t just cold- it smelled wrong, sharp and sweet, like rotting fruit left too long in a closed room. For a second, you could’ve sworn the shadows shifted just beyond the flashlight’s reach, curling inward like something breathing.

Eddie, of course, couldn’t resist.

"Ooooh, spooky," he stage-whispered, wiggling his fingers near your ear just to make you jump. "You feel that, sweetheart? That’s the icy grip of death creeping up your spine-“

Something whispered at the edge of your hearing. Not words- just the hiss of something dragging fingernails over the inside of your skull. You jerked your head around, but Eddie just laughed harder.

You elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up.”

Dustin, already halfway down the hall, spun around with his own flashlight he’d brought himself. "Guys! There’s, like, actual pentagrams scratched into the walls back here!"

Behind his shout, you caught it again- that same tiny, broken giggle, barely a breath of sound, like a radio dial caught between stations.

Robin froze. "Okay, new rule: No one says ‘pentagram’ in a haunted house. That’s just asking for trouble."

Steve shot her a grateful look. "Thank you."

Eddie, meanwhile, had already dragged you toward the markings, his grip tight around your wrist. "Oh, this is choice,” he murmured, tracing a finger over the crude carvings. "Bet you five bucks some satanic panic dumbass did this to scare off realtors."

You squinted. "Or, y’know. Demons.”

He barked a laugh, loud enough to startle a flurry of dust from the ceiling. "Baby, if demons were real, they’d have recruited me by now."

A floorboard cracked overhead.

Everyone went still.

Steve’s flashlight jerked upward. "What was-“

THUMP.

Something heavy dragged across the floor above you.

Robin made a noise like a deflating balloon. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope-“

Dustin, eyes wide, grabbed Eddie’s arm. "Dude. Dude. That was not the wind."

Eddie’s grin didn’t waver, but you felt his pulse jump under your fingers.

"Oh, it’s definitely the wind. The super haunted wind," he said too fast. "Or like, house settling noises or somethin’."

Then-

A child’s laugh. High, giggling, wrong.

It dripped down the stairs like syrup, sweet and rotting.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice.

And died.

Total darkness swallowed the hallway.

The flashlights sputtered, beams coughing against the thick, oily black- barely cutting more than a few feet ahead.

You grabbed blindly for Eddie, fingers tangling in the fabric of his vest.

He was already pulling you closer, one arm looping tight around your waist.

Somewhere ahead, Dustin whispered, “Steve?”

“Still here,” Steve hissed back. His voice sounded farther away than it should have. Warped. Like you were hearing him underwater.

The air grew heavy.

Like the whole house was breathing- exhaling mildew and something fouler through the cracked walls.

The boards under your feet felt... wrong.

Soft. Spongy. As if you might sink straight through the floor if you stood still too long.

Robin’s flashlight jittered in her hands, the beam strobing over the peeling wallpaper- and that's when you saw it.

A shadow. Not yours. Not anyone else's.

A child's silhouette, standing at the top of the stairs.

Still. Watching.

Your mouth dried up instantly.

You blinked- and it was gone.

Eddie muttered under his breath, low and fast. You caught the tail end of it:

"... not real... just old wiring... stupid house..."

Another floorboard cracked overhead- only this time, it was accompanied by scraping.

A dragging sound.

Wet and slow, like something heavy being pulled across the floor.

Steve cursed.

"New plan," he said sharply. "Out. Now."

But when you turned to follow him-

-The hallway stretched.

Elongated, walls bowing inward like some grotesque funhouse mirror.

You stumbled back, heart hammering, the floor under your costume boots sloping the wrong way.

"D-Do you guys see that?" Dustin’s voice wobbled.

No one answered.

The flashlight beams trembled.

And then they died completely, swallowed by the dark.

That was when the whispers started.

Soft at first. Like the scrape of dead leaves across pavement.

Then louder.

Children’s voices, overlapping and clashing, singing some broken, mangled nursery rhyme you couldn’t quite make out.

Ring around the rosie...

Ashes, ashes...

The temperature dropped again, sharp as a slap.

Robin whimpered.

Your fingers dug into Eddie's wrist.

You could feel his heart hammering against your fingertips, out of rhythm, too fast.

Then-

Something cold brushed your ankle.

Not a draft.

Fingers.

You yelped, jerking away.

Eddie spun, pulling you behind him like a human shield, his head snapping back and forth, trying to see.

But there was nothing.

Just that bloated, living darkness pressing closer, thick enough to suffocate.

A child's voice slithered into your ear, so close it prickled your skin:

"Why’d you leave me here?"

You gasped- and Steve grabbed your wrist, yanking you toward what you prayed was the front door.

"Move!" he barked.

The house moaned around you, nails groaning in their frames, beams cracking overhead.

Something above gave way with a sickening splintering sound- and a chandelier crashed to the floor behind you, sending up a choking cloud of dust and debris.

Still, you ran.

Stumbling, sprinting, half-dragging each other.

Panicking, screaming over each other in your mad dash to get the hell out of there.

Minutes felt like hours.

The front door was right there. You hadn’t even entered that far into the house.

You could see it.

But the closer you got, the farther it seemed to stretch away, like the house was playing with you.

Mocking you.

Eddie's grip on your hand was bruising.

He didn’t let go even when something cold and wet grabbed at his ankle, yanking him back hard enough that he grunted and stumbled, he continued to get dragged further back into the house.

You screamed his name, getting dragged back with him-

-and the front door exploded open, as if the house finally got bored of the game.

You spilled out into the night in a tangle of limbs and ragged breath, cold October air slapping your faces like a bucket of ice water.

Behind you, the Carson House seemed to shudder.

The windows flared, catching the moonlight-

-and for one blinding second, you swore you saw the child again.

Pressing a small, bloody hand against the glass.

Watching.

Waiting.

The front door slammed shut on its own with a final, thunderous boom.

Silence fell over the street.

For a solid ten seconds, no one moved. The only sound was the ragged panting of your group as you all tried to catch your breath on the dew-damp grass and the distant hum of cicadas in the trees.

Then-

THUMP.

A single, deliberate knock against the inside of the front door.

Robin made a noise like a high pitched squeal and scrambled toward the BMW.

Steve wasn’t far behind, hauling Dustin up by the back of his jacket like a misbehaving kitten.

You and Eddie?

You were still tangled together on the ground, his arms locked around you like a vice. His chest rose and fell against your back, his breath hot and uneven against your neck.

"Okay," he rasped, voice wrecked. "Okay. Maybe ghosts are real."

You wheezed out a laugh, half-hysterical. "You think?"

Eddie turned his head toward you, his brown eyes blown wide, wild, still buzzing with adrenaline. His hair was a mess, leaves and dust tangled in the curls.

And then-

He grinned.

That stupid, reckless, Eddie Munson grin.

"Sweetheart," he said, breathless, "that was awesome."

You groaned, shoving at his shoulder. "You’re insane."

He caught your wrist, pulling you closer, his grin softening into something warmer, fonder.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But you love it."

You did.

God help you, you did.

Somewhere behind you, Steve revved the BMW’s engine like an impatient dad.

"Get in the goddamn car before I leave you both here!"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he hauled you both to your feet, keeping one arm slung around your waist as you stumbled toward the car.

Robin was already in the front seat, hugging her knees to her chest.

Dustin was pale, gripping the headrest in front of him like he was about to puke.

Steve looked like he was seconds away from having an aneurysm.

Eddie, meanwhile, collapsed into the backseat with you, still grinning like a maniac.

"Alright, Harrington," he announced, slapping the back of Steve’s seat. "Next stop- waffle house. I need pancakes after that."

Steve turned around slowly, his expression flat.

"Munson, if you think I'm driving you to get pancakes after that, you're even dumber than you look."

Eddie gasped, clutching his chest like he'd been shot. "Harrington! That's cold. After all we've been through together?"

Robin groaned from the passenger seat, rubbing her temples. "Can we please just go home? I need to bleach my brain after whatever the hell that was."

Dustin, still gripping the headrest like his life depended on it, finally found his voice. "We are never doing that again. Ever. I don't care if Eddie attempts to bribe you all with free weed-"

"Hey!" Eddie protested.

"-or if Steve promises to buy us all milkshakes. Never again."

You slumped against Eddie's side, exhaustion finally catching up with you. His arm tightened around your shoulders, his fingers idly tracing circles on your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring, "You good, sweetheart?"

You nodded, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Yeah. Just... maybe no more haunted houses for a while."

He grinned, that same reckless, heart-stopping grin that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. "Aw, c'mon. Where's your sense of adventure?"

You groaned, burying your face in his chest as Steve finally pulled the car onto the road, muttering something about "idiot friends".

Outside, the Carson House stood silent in the moonlight, its windows dark.

But as the BMW disappeared down the road, a single, bloodied handprint slowly faded from the glass.

Like it had never been there at all.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be tagged! And to which fandom. (Bayverse TMNT, Vegeta, Eddie Munson).

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55

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[rhiawriter]

Omg!! I read that you’re writing Jon/Dany again and my brain exploded into a million microscopic pieces?? No idea if that’s normal, but who cares? Not me, I only care to ask, if you feel up to it, if you wouldn’t mind sharing some more infos? Or a tiiiny sneak a peek? Would it be cannon? AU? Continuation of the saga? Istg, the fact that you are writing JonDany again is giving me life!! 😍🎉

Aw, yay! Glad you're excited! This is actually a lost part of the Crow Flies South Series. I always planned to write an entry about Jon and Dany fighting at the Wall as lord commander and queen, but I never wrote it. I've been re-reading the books, and it inspired me. I particularly miss Night's Watch Jon, and it's been very fun to write.

Here's a little snippet of the forbidden lovers:

“Just because I sleep alone doesn’t mean you should have to,” Jon said.

“I don’t have to, my lord, I chose to.” Daenerys took a step closer to him. “Why do you not believe me when I tell you that if I can’t have you, I would rather have no one at all?”

Jon suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She was standing close enough that her hair tickled his cheek. He wanted to brush it back from her face. He wanted to touch her so badly that it hurt. He had expected to have to watch her move on to someone else. That would have been hell, but this was its own torture—the queen offering him her loyalty and denying herself pleasure because of him.

“We’re in this together, Jon Snow,” Daenerys’s breath landed hot on his cheek.

“I didn’t ask you to deny yourself, Your Grace.” Jon felt a familiar guilt settle over him that the queen had fallen for a man she absolutely could not have.

“You did when you denied me of you.” He lifted a gloved hand, wanting to touch the hair that escaped from her fur cap, but he restrained himself and buried his hand in his wolf’s fur instead.

He licked his lips before he spoke. “You promised you wouldn’t seduce me.” For he knew she would succeed. He ached for her, like he had never ached for a woman before. If she came to his bed this night, he would not have the will to send her away. He would pull her under his covers. He would slip his hand under her furs until he found her tight heat. She would be wet and ready for him like she always was when they gave into their mutual desire.

“So, I did.” The queen took a step back from him, with a wicked grin. “And I am a woman of my word.”

He should feel relieved that she had stepped away. Instead, he clutched Ghost’s fur even tighter to stop himself from pulling her back towards him.

“I used to sleep with my handmaidens, you know,” she said casually and conversationally. “At least I could share the warmth of other girls. But I’ve had to dismiss them.”

“Why?” Jon asked.

“I’m embarrassed to touch myself with them next to me, my lord. And I touch myself every night, while I think of you. It’s the only comfort and pleasure I have these days.”

She continued to walk back to the keep, while Jon stared after her.