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writesvani · 1 month ago

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dear me | 09

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual tension, emotional tension, alcohol consumption, conflicted feelings for a taken friend, stage anxiety, performance stress, emotional repression, romantic confusion, angst, unresolved feelings, subtle jealousy, explicit language

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,6k // date: 13th of May 2025

CHAPTER NINE — PLAY IT AGAIN happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey guys, it’s been 2 weeks without “dear me,” but we’re so back, baby. anyways, writing this chapter was really hard for me. like, REALLY hard. i’ve been stuck in a writer's block pit and i swear, i kept deleting and rewriting scenes (i’m pretty sure this chapter has like 8 versions in my drafts, don’t even ask). BUT i’ve finally settled with this one, so here we are.

now, time to meet some new characters. what do we think of them, huh? yay or nay? also, i gave you SO MANY easter eggs in this chapter. like, half of it is just foreshadowing or clearly hinting at something and i’m LOWKEY excited to see your comments and asks about it.

anyways, goal for this chapter is 450 because i KNOW we can hit it and also because i like having a bit more time to finish chapters. so yeah, let’s do this. love you guys, now go read and tell me everything you think.

It’s kind of ridiculous, honestly—the way Jeon Jungkook blends into a room and owns it at the same time. Like some kind of paradox. Earlier today, he looked like he belonged to the sunlight—the warm kind, the kind that makes old bookstores feel like home. Curled into his booth with an espresso and that soft, quiet stare. He looked small. Touchable.

But now?

Now he looks like a warning sign. Shoulders squared, head tilted like he knows something you don’t, lips curved in that maddening smirk of his. The neon lights of The House flicker against his sharp jaw, casting shadows that feel deliberate. Calculated. Dangerous.

You’re following behind him, mildly regretting the decision to show up early. It’s barely 9 p.m. and the place is already humming—bands tuning up, neon signs buzzing, and Alex... perched on a bar stool like he owns the air.

You’re going to need a drink. Immediately.

Jungkook walks up like it’s his goddamn stage. Alex looks up, face splitting into a grin.

“Well, shit,” he says, tossing his pen aside. “Didn’t think you’d actually show, big boy.”

Jungkook shrugs, already half in a chair. “I don’t back out of dares.”

You glance at the paper Alex was scribbling on and let out a half-laugh. “Are you—are you seriously doing sudoku right now?”

Alex deadpans, “Gotta keep the brain sharp, sweetheart.”

You snort. “You’re so full of it. You not working tonight?”

“Please. I’m off-duty. I came to get drunk and take Jungkook’s money.”

“You wish,” Jungkook mutters, grinning. “So who’s behind the bar?” he asks.

Alex leans back dramatically. “New guy. But he’s decent. You might know him—same age as you two.”

You raise a brow. “Then just say his name? What is this cryptic scavenger hunt?”

“I’m setting the vibe,” Alex says. “Anyway, name’s Park Jimin.”

You blink. Jungkook goes still for half a second.

Park. Fucking. Jimin.

This is exactly why you hate small towns.

This is why you should’ve stayed away. Should’ve packed up your life, lit a match to the past, and never looked back. Because small towns come with reunions you never asked for. The kind that smell like stale beer, too-loud music, and people who were never villains—just unnecessary plot twists you never wanted to reread.

So when Park Jimin strolls out from the back closet door of The House—the one they keep the good booze in because the bar’s too damn small—you already feel your molars grinding.

You don’t hate him. But God, does his presence itch.

“Well, well,” he says, slipping a bottle of Belvedere into the fridge. His eyes lock on yours, glittering with the same mischief that used to make you roll yours in high school. “Familiar faces just follow me, huh?”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He grins like it’s personal. “Missed me much?”

“Yeah. Like a rash.”

“Oof. Still bitter about prom?”

“I’m not bitter about prom.”

“You totally are.” He leans on the bar like he’s settling in. “Sorry again for dumping you right before, though. Heard you had to go with Yoongi. Brutal.”

“Hey, hey, hey—” Alex interrupts next to you, throwing a hand in the air. “Don’t slander my boy Yoongs like that. That man is class.”

Jimin ignores him. Of course he does.

“Thought your bestie would take you,” he adds, eyes still on you, “but I guess his girlfriend matched his aesthetic better.”

The blood in your ears roars. You open your mouth, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“What’s your problem?” he says, voice low and sharp. The tension in his jaw could crack diamonds.

Jimin looks at him for the first time. Smirks. “Relax, bro. I’m just messing with my ex. No harm done.”

You’re about to fire back when he adds, casual as hell, “Heard you got engaged to your high school sweetheart though. Congrats, man. Seriously.”

And just like that, the air goes from hot to hostile. Your throat tightens.

This motherfucker always knew where to cut.

Jungkook’s expression falters for a moment. You catch it—just the twitch of his jaw, the flicker behind his eyes. You think he might say something—thank him, tell him off, maybe even laugh it off.

Instead, he shifts.

His face evens out into that lazy, cool disinterest he wears so well. Like nothing ever touches him.

“One Jack Daniels,” he says, tone smooth, eyes bored. “Two cubes of ice. And for my friend—” he gestures toward you without even looking, “One Long Island Iced Tea. Add extra lemon juice and, uh, don’t be shy with the tequila.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s stretching before a fight. “That’s our order. You do still make drinks, right? Or are you just here to be irrelevant all over again?”

You almost choke on a laugh. Almost.

Jimin wets his lips, and for a moment you see the flicker of something crack behind his eyes. But he recovers. Plasters on that wide, gleaming smile—the one you used to fall for. The one you now recognize as plastic.

“Of course,” he says, voice all sugar and sawdust. “Coming right up.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes against the bar top. You glance over just as the screen lights up — Nina. Of course. She and Yoongi are supposed to be showing up any minute now.

When Jungkook had called her earlier to tell her about the bet with Alex — how he was playing drums tonight — she was thrilled. Or, well, "ecstatic," in his words. You weren’t on speaker, so you couldn’t hear her exact reaction. But you can imagine it. Sweet and supportive and all the things you know Nina to be.

He’d invited her immediately, of course. And she’d dragged Yoongi into the plan too — not that you minded. You might’ve casually begged Yoongi to show up so you wouldn’t have to third-wheel your way through the night like some tragic side character.

Jungkook picks up his phone with a low grunt, muttering, “She’s gonna call me in like, two seconds.”

You nod as he stands, watching his silhouette disappear toward the front door.

Alex elbows you, hard. “So… what I’m gathering here is, Jimin is your ex?”

You sigh. “Wow. Incredible deduction, detective. Really cracked the case there.”

He snorts. “So he’s that ex? The one who bailed on you before prom?”

You shoot him a look. “What gave it away, the tension in the room or the mild death wish I had five minutes ago?”

Alex grins. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Jimin brings it out in me.”

“Sure, blame the man.”

“I am blaming the man,” you say, then pause, brow furrowing. “He’s just… irritating.”

“He was acting weird with Jungkook though. And Yoongi too, back when he was mentioned. What's his deal with them?”

You shrug. “Honestly? No clue. Even when I dated him, he’d pretend they didn’t exist in public. It was weird then, and it’s still weird now.”

Alex hums, nursing his drink. “Damn, I thought he’s cool. He gives me bad vibes now.”

“You give me bad vibes.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me,” he grins.

“Sooo… love,” Jimin drawls, and you know — you just know — he’s talking to you.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stay facing Alex, but his voice is like a needle in your spine. When you glance over, he’s not even trying to hide the smug look on his face. He’s pouring white rum into a shaker like it’s the most casual thing in the world, the glint in his eyes almost daring you to respond.

You roll your eyes. God, he’s insufferable. Always was. Still, you can’t lie — black hair, pretty lips, annoyingly symmetrical face… Park Jimin has no right still looking that good.

Not that you’d ever say it aloud. Your friends would kill you on the spot.

“What?” you snap.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d still turn when I call you love.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

He grins, unbothered. “You know whose head I also fucked?”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Peak comedy. Is there a two-drink minimum for this set or what?”

“No joke. Just facts.”

“Yeah, okay, we had sex. Ages ago. You want a medal?”

He leans in slightly. “Didn’t think the first time was that forgettable.”

“It only means something if the person means something,” you say coolly.

That hits. His smile slips just a bit — before morphing into something darker.

“Then maybe you should’ve picked one of your friends. Wonder who would’ve been more desperate—gloom-and-doom Yoongi or Mr. Marrying-The-Preppy-Girl.”

You tense. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

He just shrugs again, shaking the cocktail like nothing’s wrong. “Touchy.”

“I don’t know what your problem is with them—hell, with me—but you’re acting like a damn parasite.”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he says easily, pouring the drink. “You’re not pathetic. They are. I’m just trying to open your eyes.”

“Dude,” Alex hisses, his tone sharp, “I get there's history here, but you really need to back off. She’s a customer.”

Jimin doesn’t even flinch, still focused on mixing the drinks with practiced ease. “I get it, I do,” he smirks, eyes flicking to you. “But she knows exactly what I’m talking about. She knows why we broke up, after all.”

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to snap. “Jimin, drop it. It was a high school breakup. Seriously, who cares? I got over it in two weeks.”

He leans in slightly, that dangerous edge to his smile. “You ever think I might’ve been right?”

“No,” you reply coldly, voice tight. “Because you weren’t.”

Jimin’s smile widens, but it’s all sharp edges now. “Sure, love. Whatever helps you keep your little fairytale. I’ll drop it—for now.” He slides the drink toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

When Jungkook walks back into The House, the change in him is immediate. Whatever easy charm he left with is gone — replaced by stormy eyes and a jaw so tight you’re afraid he might crack a bone or two. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a tell you’ve come to recognize: something went wrong.

“Took you long enough,” Jimin taunts, just as Jungkook drops into the seat next to you without a word. It’s not his usual controlled fall — it’s heavy, careless.

“Your ice melted,” Jimin adds, gesturing toward the untouched whiskey glass, voice dipped in mock concern.

Jungkook barely glances at it. “Right. Shame,” he mutters.

Alex leans forward slightly, brow creasing. “Everything cool, man?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Peachy. Don’t worry about it.”

But you do. You worry the second you see the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the bar. You want to ask, but his expression shuts that down. Whatever it is, it’s not meant for public display.

So you shift gears. “When are Nina and Yoongi getting here?”

“Nina’s not coming,” he says flatly, not even looking at you.

“What?” That doesn’t make sense. She was practically bouncing off the walls earlier, excited to watch him drum again, or at least that’s what Jungkook said.

“She’s… feeling under the weather.”

A cold excuse. Paper thin.

You blink. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” he says, then adds, too casually, “Just not in the mood to go out.”

Something’s off. Way off.

“And Yoongi?”

“He’ll be here later,” Jungkook says, voice tightening as he rubs the back of his neck — another tell.

Then, of course, Jimin can’t help himself.

“Damn,” he drawls, grinning like the devil. “Your little fiancée bailed on your big night?”

Jungkook flinches.

It’s subtle, but it’s there — a flicker of pain behind the guarded eyes.

“Jimin,” you hiss, eyes flashing as you shoot him a death glare. “Enough.”

But he’s already walking off, smug and self-satisfied, whistling like he didn’t just stick a knife into something raw.

And Jungkook?

He doesn’t say a word.

He just stares straight ahead.

A few awkward minutes pass — the silence only interrupted by the distant sound of opening bands testing mics and tuning guitars. No one dares break the uneasy stillness. Alex is hunched over a sudoku, casually sipping his beer like it’s any other night. Jungkook nurses his half-melted whiskey, the kind of lukewarm drink that probably tastes like piss by now. Even Jimin’s gone quiet, absent of any snark, polishing glasses with the focus of someone who knows he went too far.

You stare blankly at your phone, Instagram Reels flickering past without meaning. You couldn’t name a single thing you’ve watched.

Because all you can feel is him.

The tension radiating off Jungkook is impossible to ignore — like he’s one sharp breath away from detonating. But instead, he just… sits there. Bottled up. Unmoving. Unwell.

“Kook,” you whisper, soft enough that only he hears. “What happened?”

He exhales through his nose. “Nothing, really. I don’t wanna dump shit on you.”

“C’mon.” You bump your shoulder gently against his. “Spill.”

He hesitates. Then, quietly: “Nina just thinks… since I’m working tomorrow, I shouldn’t be out tonight.”

You frown. That doesn’t sound like Nina. Not from what you know.

“And?” you ask.

“And she thinks… this is an unnecessary distraction.”

You blink. “This as in what?”

“As in me drumming tonight.”

Your eyebrows knit tighter. “A distraction from what?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I don’t get it either. She just said she needs sleep and can’t make it.”

You let that settle for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Kook. But… wasn’t she excited earlier? Like, really excited?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice thinning. “But… something changed. I don’t know what. She just—changed her mind.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Kook,” you say gently, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “She’s probably just annoyed about something and taking it out on you. It’ll pass. It usually does, right?”

“Yeah… probably,” he mutters. “I just thought she’d come. I haven’t played in forever. Kinda wanted her here, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nod. Wanted her here. It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does. You take a sip of your drink, trying to shake it off. “But hey—Yoongi’s coming. Alex is here. I’m here.”

He glances at you, manages a small smile. It looks practiced, not real. “At least I’ll have a chill crowd when I completely bomb.”

“You wish,” you nudge him. “If you bomb, I’ll be the first one to laugh in your face.”

“You’re all heart,” he says with a light chuckle, and it feels better—easier—than anything he’s said since he walked in.

“Hey!” Jimin suddenly appears in front of you both like he’s been summoned by drama. “Not everyone here’s so supportive. I’ve got front-row seats to his downfall.”

Jungkook laughs for real this time. “Yeah, well, good thing I never valued your opinion.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s accurate.”

You roll your eyes, pointing at Jimin. “Alright, enough out of you. Go make us another round. Alex too. And fine, you can pour yourself something if it’ll keep you from eavesdropping.”

Jimin clutches his chest like you just proposed. “Wow. Buying me a drink now? And here I thought you were over me.”

You smirk. “Don’t push your luck. I’m just trying to keep the vibe from completely crashing.”

Jimin gives you a playful salute and walks off. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook’s shoulders drop a little. He still looks sad, but at least now he doesn’t look like he’s gonna snap in half.

When Jimin slides your drinks over, Alex actually wheezes — like, full-on wheezes — before his face turns red with excitement. “As soon as I get Jungkook’s money,” he adds dramatically, “you’re the first one I’m buying one for.”

“You could just split the money with me,” you reply, smirking over your glass.

Next to you, Jungkook groans and slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. “I swear to god, I’m gonna die. I’m not even gonna be good. I haven’t done this in so long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex waves him off. “Spare us the dramatics, Kook. The kids you’ll be playing with should be here any minute.”

“The kids I’ll be—what?”

“Well, yeah,” Alex shrugs. “You’re playing drums, right? No offense, man, but I don’t think the crowd’s dying for a solo drum recital. You need a full sound. Guitar, bass, maybe even keys. You know how these things go.”

Jungkook stares at him, horrified. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that. Who am I playing with?”

“That band I told you about this morning, remember?” Alex says casually.

“Wait—don’t they already have a drummer?”

“Yeah, they do,” Alex grins. “But I talked to Jack. Asked if he’d let you jump in for a song, and he said sure. Super chill guy.”

Jungkook rubs his forehead with both hands, muttering something under his breath. You can't tell if it’s relief or panic—or both.

“Hey,” you nudge him gently, “you’ll be fine. You could probably play in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll have to,” he mutters, then downs the rest of his drink.

The door of The House creaks open, and like a domino effect, all four of you—Alex, Jungkook, even Jimin, and you—snap your heads toward it, expecting to finally see the teenage band roll in.

But no. Not even close.

Instead, it’s Yoongi. He steps inside in a massive black hoodie and matching sweatpants, a bandana pushing his hair off his forehead. He pauses when he sees all your eyes locked on him, confusion already creeping into his features.

“What?” he frowns. “Did I miss it? You already played, man?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nah, not yet.” Jungkook gestures toward the bar. “Keep the whiskey flowing.”

Jimin groans under his breath, clearly annoyed—by Jungkook’s request, by Yoongi’s sudden presence, by existence in general.

Yoongi raises a brow as he takes the seat next to Alex. “Did all of you just... stare at me when I walked in?”

“Sorry, man,” Alex chuckles. “We thought the band Kook’s playing with showed up.”

“The high schoolers?” Yoongi asks, settling in.

“Yeah,” you say. “I mentioned them earlier when we texted.”

Yoongi hums. “Heard they’re good. Can I get a dirty martini?” His voice is calm until his eyes meet Jimin’s.

He stiffens. Jimin rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they stay in his head.

“Why the hell not,” Jimin mutters, stomping off to make the drink.

Yoongi watches him walk away, his jaw tightening.

“What are you doing here?” he calls after him.

“Working. Thought that was obvious,” Jimin bites back, slamming the finished martini in front of him with no ceremony.

Yoongi goes quiet. You and Jungkook exchange a subtle glance.

You lean toward Yoongi, voice low. “Okay, I knew you two weren’t exactly besties, but this feels like next-level passive-aggressive.”

“He deserves it,” Yoongi grits out.

You blink. “Sure, but… I wasn’t expecting you to be more pissed than I am to see him.”

“He’s just—” Yoongi exhales, “annoying.”

“That’s something even I agree with,” Jungkook mutters, sipping his drink.

“What are you even wearing, dude?” Jimin asks, eyeing Yoongi’s oversized hoodie and sweats like they’re a disgrace to the earth. “Who the hell comes to a club dressed like that?”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. “Me.”

Jimin scoffs, dramatic as ever. “Right. Is that because you’re, what—edgy? Quirky? Too cool to try?”

“No,” Yoongi says flatly. “It’s because this place isn’t a club, it’s practically a dive bar, and I literally grew up here. But hey—props to you for trying so hard. Must be tough being the new guy.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, jaw twitching just slightly. “Cute. Did you rehearse that one in the mirror or does it just come naturally when you’re being a dick?”

Yoongi smirks, unbothered. “Naturally. But thanks for noticing.”

“Well, everyone’s getting along just great,” Alex mutters, lips pressed tight around the rim of his beer.

“I’m just glad someone finally matches Jimin’s talent for being a pain in the ass,” Jungkook says, spinning one of his rings absentmindedly with his thumb.

Your eyes drift to his hands. Just for a second. Just because they’re moving. But then you really look. His fingers—long, slender, tanned just enough—move with ease, like they know how to pull attention. His skin looks soft, but there’s something sharp in the way his knuckles flex. Something wicked. Something you shouldn’t be noticing.

Your stomach twists.

You blink, hard, like that'll reset your brain.

Jungkook is your friend. Your best friend. Engaged to your other friend. This isn’t supposed to be happening. You’re not supposed to be looking at his hands like this.

And worse—worse than anything—Jimin saw it. Of course he fucking did. You hear his quiet, condescending chuckle, and a wave of shame burns through your cheeks.

“Nice rings, Jungkook,” Jimin says, too casually. His eyes never leave Jungkook’s face, but you can feel the smirk meant for you. “They really suit your fingers.”

Jungkook frowns, caught off guard. “Uh… thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin replies smoothly, already turning on his heel as someone calls his name from across the bar.

You watch him go, teeth clenched.

Fuck you, Park Jimin.

You’d almost been grateful for his silence. But no—he just had to say something.

Finally—finally—after what feels like an eternity and three Long Islands too deep, the door creaks open and in stumble four high schoolers, breathless, disheveled, and looking like they lost half their souls on the way here.

Alex shoots up with a dramatic yell. “Here they come. My children.”

“Fucking hell, Mina, I told you we’d be late,” the tall brunette groans, dragging a black gig bag over his shoulder as he wipes sweat off his brow.

“Chill, dude. We’re not late—we’re on at eleven,” the girl—who you assume is Mina (probably because she’s the only girl)—retorts, hoisting a keyboard bag like it’s a sack of bricks but somehow not tripping over it.

“Can you two not? Just tonight, please?” the third kid huffs, his pale skin glowing under the lights, striking blue eyes shooting them both a glare.

Trailing quietly behind them is the fourth member—carrying only a pair of drumsticks. That’s Jack. Definitely Jack. His shoulders are hunched, cheeks tinged pink as he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the chaos in front of him.

“Hey, Alex,” the blue-eyed boy says, grinning as he high-fives the older man.

“Yo, Dan. What’s up.”

“Sorry we’re late, bro. Mina took two hours doing her eyeliner.”

“Ha! See!” the brunette jumps in. “I’m not the only one who thought it was excessive.”

“It’s called getting ready,” Mina snaps, turning on him. “Sorry I wasn’t born a man so I could just throw on a clean shirt and be socially acceptable. It’s not my fault people expect women to look like magazine covers.”

“Why do you turn everything into feminist propaganda?” Ace mutters, and you can’t help the smirk that tugs at your lips.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

They’re so deep into their bickering that they don’t even notice the rest of you at the bar—except for Jack and Dan, who gravitate toward Alex like they're clinging to stability.

“So, this is JK, guys,” Alex says, nodding toward Jungkook.

That shuts everyone up.

“The Jeon Jungkook?” the brunette—Ace, you think—says, eyes wide, posture straightening in an instant.

You nudge Jungkook’s shoulder. “Uhm, wow, Jungkook. Didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

Jungkook laughs under his breath. “Uh… yeah?” He glances at Ace, unsure.

Mina squeals—an actual, honest-to-god squeal. Dan flushes bright red. And Jack stammers, “Whoa. You’re kind of a legend around here. Total honor to meet you, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir,” Jungkook says, flustered. “I’m not that old. And—legend?”

“Yeah, bro—I mean, sir—I mean Jungkook,” Jack stammers. “Everyone knows about you. I can’t believe I’m letting you borrow my sticks tonight.”

“Thanks for the sticks in advance, Jack,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinged pink—part whiskey, part unexpected attention. “But I’m just gonna warn you—I might disappoint you guys.”

“No way,” Jack fires back instantly.

“Not a chance,” Mina adds, shaking her head.

Jungkook laughs, easing into their energy. He falls into effortless banter with the kids, talking about their setlist, throwing out ideas, asking their opinions on which song he should play.

You don’t interrupt. You just watch him.

He finally looks relaxed, like the tension in his shoulders has melted off without anyone noticing. His face is lit up with a soft smile, his hands moving as he animatedly explains why Smells Like Teen Spirit should absolutely make the list. The kids groan dramatically, arguing that while it’s a classic, it’s way too basic for a comeback gig after ten years.

“It’s a banger!” Jungkook insists, brows raised.

“And that’s the problem!” Ace argues. “We want iconic, not expected.”

Yoongi, from his seat nearby, chimes in lazily, “Nirvana is iconic. Can’t be basic if it’s legendary.”

Mina turns to him, eyes sharp but playful. “With all due respect, Sir—we need something more iconic.”

“How is that song not the 'most' iconic?” Yoongi repeats, deadpan.

“It is,” Mina sighs, “but we need like—iconic with a twist.”

You laugh, quietly. The whole exchange is ridiculous but so full of life. Your gaze finds its way back to Jungkook—still laughing, still animated, bangs falling in his eyes, youth catching the edge of his expression.

You’re not sure what it is—the presence of the kids, the memory of what The House used to mean, or just the anticipation of playing again—but something about him tonight feels different. No—familiar.

He looks alive.

He looks like himself.

So you lean into it. You let yourself feel it. Let yourself miss him in the way that hurts but also heals.

Because this… this version of him—the one glowing with purpose and ease—this is the version you’ve missed the most.

“Don’t you guys want to drop off your instruments and have a drink?” Jimin asks from behind the bar, voice light, expression even lighter.

You stiffen, blinking twice. Park Jimin… smiling? And not the condescending, I-know-something-you-don’t smile, but a real one. It’s disorienting—like waking up in a parallel universe. For a second, you brace yourself for a backhanded comment, a jab hidden behind sugar-coated words.

But it never comes.

He actually looks like he likes the kids.

“Uh, yeah—we totally forgot,” Daniel says, still a little breathless as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.

“Give us a sec, JK,” Ace calls over his shoulder, clapping Jungkook’s arm before the four teenagers vanish backstage, a trail of youthful energy and secondhand adrenaline left in their wake.

The bar quiets just enough for a breath to settle.

“Are you excited?” you ask, leaning closer to Jungkook.

His gaze lingers on the now-empty hallway where the kids disappeared. His features are soft, loose, almost vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen in years.

“Actually… yeah. I am,” he admits, lips parting in surprise at his own words. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the kids—”

“The tasteless kids,” Yoongi deadpans, slumped in his chair like a tired philosopher. “How the hell does that girl say there’s something more iconic than Nirvana?”

Alex raises his beer solemnly. “Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy.”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, used to their noise. “Anyway,” he says, “like I was saying… I think I’m genuinely looking forward to playing.”

The words hang in the air for a second too long, warm and raw. And before you even realize it, your hand is in his hair, ruffling the soft strands. His cheeks flush—alcohol or affection, you can’t tell.

“Aw, look at my bestie getting all giddy,” you tease, trying to sound casual, but something inside you aches at how happy he looks. “Seriously, Kook, that’s fucking amazing. Now I can’t wait to see you up there.”

“Don’t be too excited,” he laughs, brushing a hand over his face. “There’s still a good chance I shit my pants from nerves.”

“Wasn’t your whole goal to fail?” Yoongi asks, blinking like he’s doing mental math. “So you don’t have to give Alex the money?”

Alex waves a dismissive hand, the gold ring on his pinky flashing under the low amber lights. “No one ever plays to fail. Not in music, not in life. I, my friend, am simply operating within the mystical corridors of Jungkook’s subconscious. Planting seeds. Psychological warfare.”

“You, my friend,” you shoot back, “are drunk.”

“Maybe,” Alex replies, tipping his beer with a grin that says definitely.

“You so are,” Jungkook adds, eyes glinting.

Alex leans closer, mock-sincere. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be sober enough to take my money when you owe it to me.”

There’s laughter again, warm and alive, and for a moment you forget the heaviness. Forget the time. Forget the past. Because Jungkook is here, sitting next to you, eyes sparkling, stomach twisting with nerves in the most beautiful, human way.

And for the first time in a long while—he wants to be seen.

The kids return in a pack—energy buzzing around them like static, cheeks flushed from the excitement and maybe just a bit of nerves. They spill into the empty bar stools like they own the place, all happy—the kind that comes with knowing tonight matters.

Ace claps his hands together, flops onto a stool, and shouts toward the bar, “Alright, Jimin! Hit me with a Coca-Cola—I’m fucking thirsty!”

Jimin, unfazed, quirks an eyebrow. “Watch your mouth, rockstar,” he says, already reaching for the glasses.

The others chime in, each echoing Ace’s order like it’s part of a ritual. Coke all around.

“When are you guys on?” you ask casually, turning to Mina as she sips from her drink. Her eyes are bright beneath the dim bar lights, and you blink. Damn, her eyeliner’s sharp enough to kill. It makes her look fierce. Electric.

“In about twenty minutes,” she says, voice calm, a soft smile curving her lips like she’s done this a thousand times before. “Jk’s opening on drums—Jack takes over after he finishes the first song.”

You nod, picturing it. Jungkook behind the kit again. The lights. The sound. The pulse of something being reborn.

“Oi, Mina!” Daniel calls from the other end of the bar, half-lounging over his stool. “Quit flirting with Jungkook’s bestie and finish your drink—we’re up soon!”

Mina groans and rolls her eyes, but her grin gives her away. “I’m not flirting,” she mutters as she raises her glass. “I’m being polite.”

You smirk, and she clinks her glass against yours anyway.

There’s a hum in the air now. Something about the way the kids shift in their seats, glance at the clock, tap their fingers to an invisible beat. A collective breath held, waiting to be released the moment they step on stage.

And through it all, Jungkook’s knee bounces beneath the table, his fingers twitching like they already hear the opening riff in his head.

The bar dims a little more, lights overhead shifting to a deep red hue. A hush rolls through the room—not complete silence, but that charged pause just before something erupts. The kind of silence that makes your skin prickle.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Mina says, swinging her keyboard bag over her shoulder as she hops off the stool. The others follow, a quiet intensity settling over their faces like masks. The joking, the teasing, the sugary buzz of Coca-Cola—all of it vanishes in the electric stillness of the pre-show moment.

Jungkook gets up too, a small crease between his brows, lips pressed together in a thin line. You nudge his arm gently as he passes by.

“You’ve got this, bestie,” you whisper.

He glances back at you. A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those big, dark eyes—are filled with something you haven’t seen in a while.

Fear.

But also: fire.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods.

On stage, Jack claps him on the shoulder before handing him the sticks. The kids do a final check—Mina tapping her keys, Dan tuning his bass, Ace slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. The room starts to buzz again, people murmuring, turning toward the stage, phones raised. Someone yells out a “WOOO!” and Alex, leaning against the side wall, grins like a proud dad.

Mina steps up to the mic. “Hey guys,” she says, her voice steady. “We’re The Strangers, and tonight… we’re doing something a little old school.” She glances at Jungkook. “Featuring a local legend.”

There’s light applause, a couple surprised whistles.

And then—Jungkook lifts the sticks.

He taps the hi-hat four times. It begins.

But then.

Crash.

The beat stumbles. His right hand slips, hitting the rim instead of the snare. The rhythm trips over itself, chaotic and jarring. Ace freezes mid-riff. Mina slams her palm on the keys too early. Dan completely misses the bass cue.

A mess. A beautiful, terrible mess.

A few people in the crowd gasp. One laughs. You wince.

Jungkook, mortified, pauses for half a second—half a second that feels like a lifetime—before whispering, “Shit,” under his breath.

Jack starts to step forward, like he’s ready to take over immediately.

But Jungkook throws up a hand.

“No,” he mutters to the mic, half to himself, half to the crowd. “I got it.”

And this time—he counts again. One, two, three, four—

This time, it hits. Hard. Toxicity intro comes alive—feral, gritty, raw. Ace slams into the opening riff with vengeance, Mina’s synths howling underneath, Dan’s bass like thunder rumbling through the floor. And Jungkook—Jungkook comes back. You can see it in his shoulders, in the way his hair whips around his face. There’s rage and release in every strike of the snare, redemption in the crash cymbals.

The crowd erupts.

Jungkook plays like he’s possessed now, blood rushing, all hesitation gone. His whole body moves with the rhythm, with the madness of it. His face glistens with sweat. He grins—really grins—like he’s high on the beat.

And you? You can’t look away.

This, this is the Jungkook you remember.

A little off at first. But once he finds the groove—

He becomes it.

The crowd is losing their minds.

Phones are raised, heads are banging, and even Jimin—cool, collected, snarky Jimin—is nodding behind the bar with an impressed smirk. Ace and Dan are completely synced, locking in their parts with the kind of chaotic grace that makes you feel like the song might fall apart at any moment, but never does. Mina’s eyes are closed, fingers dancing across the keys, mouth moving along to lyrics.

And Jungkook—

God.

His hair sticks to his forehead in messy strands, and there’s a flush creeping down his neck, veins flexing on his forearms every time he slams into the snare. He looks like he’s burning up—like every part of him is charged. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is soaked down the back, clinging to him like a second skin, and when he tilts his head back in rhythm, biting his lip and closing his eyes—

You feel it.

In your chest. In your throat.

Oh God.

You shouldn’t be thinking this. He’s your best friend. He’s taken. He’s Jungkook. But you’re human and he’s—he’s just so magnetic up there. Confident. Wild. Beautiful.

It rattles something in you.

You look away for a second, shaking your head as if that’ll snap you out of it. But then you hear the bridge hit—Mina’s synths wailing, Ace’s guitar almost screaming—and you glance back.

He’s looking at you.

Just for a second.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice. But long enough for you to feel your heartbeat quicken like it’s trying to keep up with the tempo of his drums.

Long enough to wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you.

And then, just as quickly, it’s over.

The final notes ring out, loud and proud, and Jungkook hammers the crash cymbals like punctuation marks. The sound reverberates through the bar, into your ribs, your skin. Everyone’s screaming and clapping and whistling. Alex is on his feet, yelling something you can’t even hear. Jimin throws a towel toward the stage.

But you?

You’re frozen.

Emotion crashes into you like a wave—unexpected, heavy, cold. It’s not about attraction anymore. It’s not even about the performance. It’s the moment. The way Jungkook looked up, eyes shining, chest heaving, smiling like he hadn’t smiled in years.

It’s the way he came back to life in front of you.

And you realize, achingly, that this is what you’ve missed all along.

Not the friendship. Not the ease. Not the safety.

You missed him. That version of him. The one who lets himself feel joy without guilt. The one who belongs somewhere.

And for some reason, that breaks your heart.

Because he’s not yours to keep.

Not really.

Jungkook jumps off the stage like he’s weightless, flushed and glowing, his chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon and won. The crowd still buzzes with leftover energy, but he’s already moving toward you—wild-eyed and breathless.

Before you can react, he wraps you in a hug, tight and full-bodied, arms locking around you like you’re the one anchoring him to the ground. You barely have time to think before you’re melting into it, laughing as your arms wind around his back.

“Holy shit,” he gasps into your ear, voice cracking with joy. “Did you see that? I didn’t tank it! I came back! I actually pulled it off!”

“You did, Kook, you killed it out there.”

He pulls back just enough to grab your face between both hands, calloused palms cradling your cheeks. His eyes are shining—shining—with something raw and real and so reminiscent of the boy he used to be, your chest squeezes tight.

“I thought I was gonna choke after that first beat,” he breathes, grin splitting his face. “But then I looked at the kids. And I looked at you. And it felt like I was supposed to be right there.”

Your heart stutters. “You looked like yourself up there.”

His expression shifts—just for a moment—and then his forehead drops to yours.

The contact is light. Barely there.

But it crackles.

It’s intimate and fleeting and charged, his breath brushing your lips, and your entire body locks up. You should move. You should really move. But you don’t. Neither does he.

You both just breathe.

And in that breath, something slips.

Not love.

Not lust.

But something terrifyingly in between.

“I should do this more often,” he murmurs, still forehead-to-forehead with you, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Feel like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to say anything that might break the moment. That might remind either of you that he’s not yours to lean into like this. Never was.

But then the room reminds you for you.

A cheer goes up. Someone shouts his name. Laughter rings out.

And when he opens his eyes and sees how close you are, the spell breaks.

He steps back, a breath catching like it hurts. His hands fall slowly from your face as if letting go costs something.

You say nothing.

Neither does he.

Instead, you both turn—wordlessly—and slide onto the barstools beside each other.

Jungkook drums his fingers against the wood, still jittery with leftover adrenaline, while you pretend to focus on the drink Jimin sets in front of you.

Your shoulder brushes his.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

But the silence between you is deafening.

Your chest feels too tight. Your throat too full.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder what would’ve happened if you told him everything when you were younger.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you he could come back to.

But you don’t ask.

And he doesn’t offer.

So you both just sit there—shoulder to shoulder, forehead memory still warm—and pretend nothing happened at all.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon @joonwater @choijay-07 @notsevenwithyou @mononoaware16 @sky-23s-world @auroresce @sadgirlroo @arcadiaem @kokoandkookie @nakyra2 @kissyfacekoo @butterymin

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vcmpbyt · 2 months ago

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And what makes this scene so gobsmacking to me is that when Sammie opens the door and goes out, the house on the outside is blue and the inside is red. What we see in THIS shot specifically is these colors acting as a stand in for smoke and stack with Sammie being in the middle giving us the message of them being his protectors foreshadowing them playing out their role till the very end in which we see with events later on in the movie! Loads of easter eggs so be it in cinematic shots or dialogue even GRAMMAR !

When Remmick is about to play his eerie song he tells them “I’ll show you.” Not “we.” SINGULAR despite the two people behind him, emphasizing more on the fact that his vampirism is a hive mind and at that very moment he was controlling them. Bert and Joan were no more; that was all Remmick.

To wrap my yap session up I just really wanna mention my favorite scene which is when Annie tells Elijah she doesn’t want all that “Smoke” to get on their child, Elijah finally putting the life Smoke went through behind to move on with his family in the afterlife PEACEFULLY whilst also knowing Sammie’s safe + The baby breaths in Annie’s hair, absolutely devastating yet so beautiful.

#sinners 2025 #sinners #remmick #annie #elijah moore #Sammie moore #ryan coogler #yapping #𖦹 yappa yappa

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saurongorthaur9 · 5 months ago

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So, in the last couple months, I've gotten a few different people commenting on my fanfiction commenting/reviewing methods. I've been involved in fanfic communities since 2008 and I've reviewed literally thousands of stories. I also like leaving long, fairly detailed comments, and I've had multiple people asking me for tips on commenting and what my process is. I needed to take a little break amidst the chaos of packing for a 2000 mile move, so I thought I'd write up a little guide for tips and tricks on leaving great reviews. So here you go: SG's Guide to Commenting on Fanfics!

First of all, my method. I take notes as I read personally. My preferred method is saving stories to my laptop and then highlighting parts I want to comment on, but there are any number of alternate methods, such as using a note app on your phone or jotting down physical notes in a notebook, if you're old-school like that :)

Then, here are my tips on ways to write great comments! (And a reminder, these are just tips, not rules! There is no Fanfiction Comments Bible I am using here, just my own experience for how I write my comments/reviews, so take or leave any portions of it that you want. But hopefully, if you are new to commenting or wanting to leave more detailed comments, you'll find something helpful here.

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1. First, you can never go wrong with an enthusiastic "OMG I loved this! *keyboard smash* *kudos*" I can guarantee you that there is no author out there who doesn't appreciate unbridled enthusiasm about the content they spent hours, days, weeks, or even months working on.

2. Quote passages that stood out to you, then tell the author how that passage made you feel. From my experience, authors love knowing specific passages that impacted their reader. I usually will format it something like this: *Quote from story* Oh my gosh, this piece of dialogue made me laugh so hard...or... *Quote from story* I seriously teared up here, so beautiful.

3. Were there places where the characterization was just spot on? Let the author know. It can be something simple like "When x character did x, that felt SO in character!"

4. Did the characters make you feel emotions? Again, let the author know. "When x character did x, I wanted to punch them so hard!" or "Aw, when x character kissed x character, I felt so warm and fuzzy!"

5. Was there a descriptive passage that felt super realistic? You can say something like "When you described that waterfall, I felt like I was right there" or "When x character was pulling out that splinter, I was squirming the whole time".

6. For a little bit of a more expert reviewer tip, comment on things that author has done to expand or add to the world. This can look like a variety of different comments, but here are some examples. "I love how you've delved into x character's backstory or psychology with your story. I've always found them intriguing and wondered why they made x choice." "Your OC fits so well into this world. I could totally see this character going about their life during the canon events." "I really enjoy that you're exploring x culture in your story; I loved the description of the festival at the beginning."

7. For a really expert tip, comment on the little easter eggs you notice in fics. From my experience, authors are utterly delighted when readers pick up the little tidbits they've meticulously hidden or ways they've shown off their technical skills. This requires more in-depth knowledge of how writing and stories work however. This can look like comments like these: "OMG, I saw what you did there with that foreshadowing when x character said x!" or "That was really clever how you showed a parallel between this character over here and that character over there."

8. Finally, thank the author! They put lots of effort into creating this piece of art that you've just enjoyed; let them know you appreciate their time, creativity, and effort. And if it's a multi-chapter story or a series, let them know you're invested without being pushy for an update. I like saying something like this at the end of my reviews: "Thank you so much for sharing your work with us! I am so excited to see where the story is going whenever you share the next chapter. Cheers!"

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And of course, remember that a simple comment is better than no comment! I know I'm very much not the only person to have said this, but comments are an essential part of the Fandom ecosystem. If you only have time or energy to leave a quick "I loved it!" then do that! You will make the author's day, I guarantee. But if you're considering whether or not to leave a comment at all, please remember that all fanfic authors are people who have poured enormous amounts of time and effort into the thing you've just enjoyed (to give you an idea, it takes me an average of about 60-80 hours PER CHAPTER to write Gorthauro Estel).

I've also seen posts from people about fears of saying the wrong thing in a review. There are very few "wrong" things to say, but just to allay any fears one might have, I've compiled a quick list of what to avoid in your review.

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Don't beg for updates. Getting an "Update please!" review on a WIP that you haven't been able to work on for whatever reasons is always discouraging. I can understand how a beginning reviewer could see it as a complement, but as someone myself who is slow to update, I can tell you that it only puts a larger sense of pressure, weight, and discouragement on the writer. If you want to let the writer know you are looking forward to an update and are invested in the story, look at my last point in the comment tips above.

Going along with that, don't comment on how long it's been since the story has been updated. During some of my gaps where I just couldn't write for a number of different reasons, I would get frequent comments along the lines of "wow, this story hasn't been updated in a year, are you ever going to update?" Those reviews would make me feel SO bad. I was always intimately aware of how long it had been, and I think most authors are the same. Instead, writing a sweet, enthusiastic review with some of the tips above might just give the author the emotional and mental juice to work on that stalled WIP again.

If the author has a different headcanon about a character, event, etc that doesn't line up with your headcanon, don't comment on it. I recently got a review complaining that I write my Sauron as someone attracted to women. I personally headcanon Sauron as heteroromantic demisexual (which is also what I am), and that's the way I portray him in my fics. If the author's headcanon doesn't line up with yours and it bothers you enough to want to comment on it, that story might just not be for you. If you choose to read the fic, you are choosing to enter into the world of the author's headcanon and you should be respectful of it.

Similarly, if the author makes a choice for where to take their story that you don't care for, don't comment on it. You are perfectly within your rights to stop reading if you don't like the way the author chooses to take their story, but it is their story.

Don't point out mistakes unless you know whether the author is comfortable with it or not. I am personally fine with people pointing out typos or the like to me in public reviews, but some people can be sensitive about it. Check with the author privately rather than leaving a public comment to see what they are comfortable with.

Basically, it comes down to the old adage, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. If you keep your comments positive rather than negative, you're unlikely to say anything "wrong".

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Hopefully, this has been helpful! Now go forth and comment!

#fanfiction #fanfiction.net #archive of our own #ao3 #ffn #fanfic #fanfic authors #fanfic writing #fanfic comments #fanfic community #fanfic review #fanfic readers

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quarterlifekitty · 2 months ago

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Happy Easter. Johnny would 100% buy you one of the bad dragons that can lay eggs in you for the occasion. Sends the rest of the lads video of you laying them on a blanket patterned with pastel bunnies (foreshadowing for how he’s gonna breed you)

#writing #cod fanfic #cod #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader

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iwtv-theories · 2 months ago

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All hints of past Devil’s minions (analysis)

Ok, before I get started I’ll preface this by saying some of this evidence has obvious (and literal) counter explanations and some of the easter-eggs could simply be foreshadowing for a reimagining of future d.m. But, in case they did have a past together , I might as well mention all the possible hints for fun.

1)Armand mentions “Tabula rasa”(Latin for a 'blank slate’ ) and then he turns his head to Daniel .

In philosophy 'tabula rasa' is a theory that says : at birth the mind is hypothetically a blank or empty slate before receiving memories that shape them into who they are. The term “tabula rasa” linguistically is derived from a wax-covered tablet (tabula) used for written notes, which was blanked (rasa) by heating the wax and then smoothing it to be reused and have new words written on it. Yeah , certainly sounds similar to someone's powers (memory alteration via words). What's very telling is the fact Daniel in response to this says annoyed: " disregard... as Armand remains off the record." It seems like a very tongue and cheek joke (from the writers). Because Armand was taken out of Daniel's narrative as well . Like Daniel said in ep 5 : "Armand redacted himself. which is why I don't remember." In qotd, Daniel & Armand would also often watch 'blade runner', and in that film , the 'maker' was able to manipulate/create memories in the ��short- lived’ replicants’ lives.

2)[Let’s talk about the Alice proposal]. First we have Louis talk about his time in Paris (as the camera pans to Daniel and Armand) : “she was giving me permission to explore a life apart from her” .Armand: *tilts his head*: and then mentions Alice.

Armand may have let Daniel explore other romantic relationships like Alice (if he was with Louis) to make the dynamic more fair . So Daniel may be conflating fragments of his lost memories of Armand with memories of his ex Alice (since he was with them at the same time).

Armand may have replaced himself with Alice. Or he may have 'redacted' himself and Daniel's brain tried to fill in the gaps in memory naturally, since they were both romantic partners to him (around the same time). Daniel already had to be reminded by his ex wife ( Alice) that he didn't own a buick with her (which he probably drove in the past with Armand) . Daniel already "conflated events" : mixing up Louis for a human he met at a rehab , so it wouldn't be the first time he's mixed people up in his head.

-Louis about Daniel &Alice: “you were talking past each other “.

-Daniel to Louis : "Did you gravitate to San francisco as a hub for homophiles? " Louis: “ Paris was the more formative LIBERATION for me...you felt FRERER to hold her hand in Paris, I wonder why that is?

Then of course we see the framing of the proposal scene. Daniel says almost proudly that he did surprise Alice , which if he surprised a mind reader I could see why he was proud. Then Daniel has a flashback of Armand silently looking at him. Louis : “and what did she say when you finally asked her to marry you? " Daniel turns and looks at Armand confused as they both stare at each other . Daniel now hears Armand’s voice from the past . Armand: “Louis, perhaps we should- “. Daniel: “She said , no” . Armand : “she wanted to say yes, but she didn't trust you yet .”

Also, isn’t it interesting that an episode later Armand says it’s wrong to go into Daniel’s memories. So why did he (allegedly) go into Alice’s? And if so why is Daniel an exception? Is it really just because he’s a “guest” in the house (like Armand claimed) ? Did he really go into Alice’s mind or was he just admitting how he felt at the time of the proposal? Also if he supposedly didn't read Daniel's mind how did he know he was thinking of Alice initially? Either he knew he was taking about Alice, because he was around during that time. Or he read Daniel’s memoir that referenced her and Daniel in Paris (which would already be a hint Armand is more interested in Daniel than he lets on).

Also, Armand says Daniel was thinking of “Alice” after Daniel says “she’s tired of your dilettante vibe.” Alice may have said it , but the word ‘dilettante’ is considered an archaic term that originated in 1733 and is borrowed from the Italian word "dilettante" meaning "lover of music or paintings”. Given Armand’s old fashioned vernacular, and origins in the Italian- art scene . It makes me wonder if he actually said it (not Alice)

And … before the proposal flashback, Louis says in relation to Alice and Daniel in Paris : “I SEE I triggered a memory.” But for Daniel , when thinking of the proposal, the only visual memory he SAW was of Armand . Which begs the question why did a failed marriage proposal trigger a memory of Armand (for Daniel) ?

Lestat asking Louis to be his companion and turning him was already compared to a wedding at a church. Daniel may have “finally gotten his shit together “ (got sober) and asked to be turned and be Armand's companion and Armand said "no" . And this still subconsciously hurts him deeply. In the books, armand's refusal to turn him was the biggest issue in their relationship. It could be a similar pain to when Alice first rejected his marriage proposal (or his pain from Armand's rejection was displaced on to Alice's rejection, in his distorted memories). Similar to him thinking he drove a buick when married to her.

Also , isn’t it interesting that in Daniel’s first flashback of Armand, the first thing Armand says as he looks at Daniel is , “no.” And the second flashback is: “(s)he said no.”

I also find it interesting that Daniel first remembers Armand via a dream and of course Alice (could be a ref to Alice in wonderland which is a story heavily associated with dreams). A hint he’s mixing the 2 up? (Alice and wonderland series) : “In the garden of memory, in the palace of dreams, that is where you and I shall meet.” *Literally remembers meeting Armand (in his memory) via a dream….

3) This next scene could have a lot of logical explanations. And it could be heavily symbolic and foreshadow that past d.m did happen. But if past d.m did occur it’s also possible Armand wasn’t simply worried about the talamasca showing Daniel the trial-script (which Armand may or may not have assumed burned in the fire). But, was worried about Daniel learning about their affair and telling Louis. Daniel to Armand: “you could read any mind you want. Why didn't you?" Armand: "I was in Love". Daniel snears at Louis: "you believe that?" Louis: I believe... he could have gotten lazy. Armand: "It was love." Louis sarcastically: "Sure, and Love. I suppose he was loving in those times... (angrily)Love!"

Armand then immediately turns away from Louis and asks three times if Daniel was left alone to talk to anyone (talamasca) during dinner . And Louis looks visibly confused on why he's harping on Daniel, and not the fact he just alluded to the fact that he thinks Armand doesn't love him anymore. And louis say exasperated : "WHY do you ask, LOVE?" There's a lot of symbolic weight in that last sentence. He literally is referring to Armand by the nickname 'love', but he's once again alluding to his doubts of Armand's love by emphasizing the last word. He's also asking why on earth is he bringing Daniel up in this conversation??? The dramatic pause between the 2 lines, may symbolically tell us the answer : " Why do you ask (about Daniel)? (Is it) LOVE? ".Armand may have been trying to figure out if Daniel found out about the affair, and told Louis.

And to answer Louis' question on ‘why he’s asking about Daniel’ we hear a drink being prepared and Armand is shown in both shots as the drink is poured...

And what does Daniel say shortly after : "Rashid, more vermouth next time.It's just HIS (Armand's) were better (*smirks)." Armand's odd look in response is possibly because he's wondering if this was or wasn't a subtle jab at their past relationship. “ They were not compatible / He tasted like Vermouth."

The drink symbolism could be a hint that Armand was asking cause he was afraid an ex-romantic relationship had been exposed. Not to mention, this whole scene was spurred on by Armand saying he doesn't read minds , cause of "love". And in an earlier episode he apologized to Daniel (for Louis going into his mind) saying "it was wrong to go into your memories ." Maybe Armand feels guilty about what he did last time he went into Daniel's memories?I mean …during this whole scene he could have just read Daniel's thoughts/memories to know what he actually knew or if he met up with the talamasca during dinner. Instead he openly admits he tried to hack Daniel’s computer : “you have everything we have , unless you're HIDING something on your encrypted laptop.”And funnily enough the only thing the Talamasca agent said to Daniel, at dinner, was he 'shouldn't fear Armand'. Sus.

The agent says this AFTER Armand just killed Malik. And before this convo with the talamasca, Daniel said himself: “1000s of kills, when has Armand ever spared a life ?” Yes, exactly, so why does the talamasca agent seem so confident that Armand isn’t a threat to Daniel? . Are they really just that bad at keeping their assets alive? I guess Armand usually only targets certain types of people, but still . And why does Raglan warn Daniel about Louis??? Louis hasn't killed anyone since 2000! Even agent Rashid says Daniel shouldn't have accepted Louis' invitation if he wanted to get out alive. Who knows maybe they're like, Daniel if Louis finds out about your little affair - you're going to die (just like Antoinette).

Not to mention that in the episode commentary of the scene, Assad says that Armand was suspicious "that they knew" . And I mean -after they both question Armand's 'love'. It makes sense he’d jump to the conclusion that they might know about the affair . Anderson (Louis) then says about the scene: " Louis known for a long time something is wrong. A lie is being told. I think Louis and Daniel have been sort of like kept things for Armand." Which yeah- sounds more like d.m proof than Armand simply trying to figure out if they know about the trial script.

4) louis : “we’ve been TOGETHER 77 years . Should we let the MATH of that settle.” Well, that’s certainly interesting math, given the fact Armand said in the prior episode they’ve been “TOGETHER” for “ 70 years.” Logically ,I know Armand is simply “rounding down” (which is already out of character tbh). But SYMBOLICALLY I find it really interesting that Armand when Daniel is in the room says “77 years”, but when Daniel is in another room he always says “70 years “ . Maybe a symbolic hint their affair lasted 7 years ?

Think about it, what did Lestat say when explaining his affair with a human who he later turned into a vampire : “ For 7 years …if your companion no longer wishes to share his body with you. If every word out of his mouth is disinterest or vitriol for 7 years ! You still hope ... that he'll love you, like you love him . But, what do you do? (picture of Antionette pops up).Do you find affection elsewhere? “ . Santiago: “Antionette Brown, ladies and gentlemen, later the vampire Antoinette . 7 long years . “

Also , Daniel had to be reminded by his ex wife Alice that he didn’t own a Buick while they were together . His publisher also had to remind him the dates must be wrong for when he owned the car - cause child car seats weren’t even mandatory until 1985, the year he got Alice pregnant . Daniel told his publisher he owned a Buick 7 years before 1985. Cough it was probably Armand’s car (and the timeline is jumbled in his head). And they were together for 7 years. Daniel didn’t even own a credit card in the 80s but he thought he drove a luxury car in the 70s???? Sus

Louis while with Daniel , also says to Armand : “do you care to Join us?” Armand to Daniel: “Mr pointe du lac will join you at course 7.” Daniel: “7?... wait “(Armand rushes away from Daniel). Maybe that's symbolic?

who knows , Lestat (was separated from Louis) and lived with Antoinette for years- only to later get back with Louis. Is it possible that something similar happened between Armand, Daniel, and Louis ?

Not to mention when Armand says to Daniel “77 years and it still feels like a slight.” (it pans to Daniel, and I can’t help but think the real slight would be to Daniel, if they actually were together during that 77 y long marriage). Daniel in the last episode screaming : “77 years based on a seismic lie!” (Makes me wonder if the trial isn’t the only seismic lie). I'm sorry, I still find it interesting that ‘home-wrecker’ molloy destroyed their marriage “almost to the day” of Louis & Armand's anniversary.

In the show they also changed Marius/armand’s relationship so it now lasted 12 years. Which in the books is also how long Daniel/Armand were together . I could see Armand/Daniel having the “chase/get to know you phase “ for 5 years and then actually be together for 7 years. Since in the books they knew each other for 4 years before dating for 8) .

5)This next scene could also be heavily symbolic ,when Louis is discussing his courtship to Armand (the camera lingers on Daniel cause the dialogue may have also applied to him): "Some of my most pronounced feelings and thoughts were taking shape. When my mind was being touched by Armand's I became deeply excited and driven to form new conclusions about myself and vampiric life in the abstract." / Louis: "Is something wrong, Daniel?" Daniel: Something you were saying made me think of, um... Louis : "Think of what?" *Armand turns to look at Daniel* Daniel:" It just flew out of my head. It's gone." *Camera pans back to Armand looking at Daniel* Who may or may not be wondering if Daniel almost remembered something. Also the fact during this whole scene Daniel is clicking on the “escape” button over and over as Louis describes his romance with Armand (it may also be symbolic that young Daniel would not want to hear any of this ).

5b) We already know Daniel’s memories have been slowly coming back in relation to Armand (when something or someone triggers a memory). They’re not completely lost- he can get some of them back. Another proof d.m happened in the past is what “triggers a memory (of Armand).” There's the examples that have an obvious explanation: he searches on his computer the painting of Marius which he already discussed with Armand, and when he asks about Armand’s diet ( he remembers when Armand almost made him a meal). But the other things that trigger Armand to flash in his mind… are very suspicious. The first time he remembers Armand in s1 was when Armand placed a blanket on him (*which book Armand has done for Daniel before) . And in s2 Daniel also has a flashback occur when Armand (for the first time in Dubai) says “Daniel” . This whole convo occurs because Daniel was asking Louis about hallucinating his ex (and then Daniel sees a vision of Armand from the past ,HMMMM). And he also has his memory of Armand “triggered “ when he sees a photo of a Parisian couple near a fountain + thinks of how he was rejected by his ex-wife in Paris. Daniel’s subconscious is reminded of his past with Armand - when he thinks of a combination of France , romance, and heartbreak.

6) Armand says about Daniel: “the boy…he’s still in there .”If young Daniel knew about Armand/louis I could see him being jealous and resentful of that relationship in the 70s and 80s. And so older Daniel (subconsciously) just needs to shit on their relationship , whenever the opportunity presents itself . Louis: “ I’d like to introduce you to the vampire Armand, the love of my life…my love ran a theater troupe for over a 150 years, Daniel.” Daniel: “the love of your life (Lestat) was in a box “. Daniel to loumand: lestat , lestat, lestat… love of my life or ‘rebound of my life ‘, with you two? “ Armand and Louis mentioning first meeting in a park: “with a habit of chasing after the wrong kind of love”. Daniel (sarcastic): “oh, what better place to find the right kind of love than in a public park. “ Louis who has told Daniel about dream- Lestat for multiple episodes, but then dream Lestat mocks Louis’ “ I love you” to Armand . Pans to Daniel squinting and then spitefully smirking : “Are you schizophrenic Louis ?”Louis: “we’ve been together for 77 years, Daniel.” Armand : “47 more than he did with lestat”. Daniel (smirks and looks at Armand): “keep selling it.” Louis talking about his and Armand’s romantic library dates . Daniel deadpan and sarcastic : “hot.” Daniel pressing the “escape’ button over and over as Louis describes his romance to Armand. Lestat to Loumand : “let’s see how long (your relationship) holds” . Daniel sarcastic and smug : “interesting phrase , what do you think he meant by that Louis? “ Daniel :*breaks them up “almost to the day” of their anniversary. *

It’s so funny how often Daniel questions their “love “ for each other . Like ,great job keeping a professional-objective lens, Daniel.

And speaking of “love “ I have to mention something else . The fact Daniel (in the 70s) uses the term "homophile" is VERY telling about his true desires. "The homophile movement was a collective term for the main organizations and publications supporting and representing sexual minorities in the 1950s to 1960s around the world.Proponents of the term 'homophile' hoped to emphasize the romantic rather than sexual aspect of same-sex relationships by replacing the -"sexual" suffix with the Greek root "philos," meaning LOVE. " In the books, when they first got together Daniel called Armand his "LOVER" and Armand called him "BELOVED" and “My LOVE.” Daniel deep down wanted "love" from a man , but before the interview in the 70s he only acted on his sexual desires (where there was no emotional intimacy and it could more easily be dismissed as just needing a fix, experimentation, etc). So yeah… Armand and Daniel both were hyper sexual but deep down they both wanted the same thing- Love . And young Daniel may have really LOVED Armand ,if they were together . Armand would have been the only man he ever loved.So yeah , even with amnesia , his bitterness may slip out (subconsciously). I mean, imagine Armand chose Louis over you: and you had to hear Louis talk on and on about his ex Lestat, mention while he was courting Armand that a hallucination of Lestat mocked Armand repeatedly . Hear how Louis didn't even want to call Armand his “companion" and just wanted to be friends with benefits, and in the end Louis chose to be with Armand to spite his ex Lestat. Then he proceeds to hook up with 100s of guys a year while being with Armand (despite being devastated Lestat slept with 1 other person). And it is made abundantly clear that Armand was just a “rebound” for Louis- and Armand still chose Louis over you! I’d be bitchy and want them to break up too . XD

Obviously, Armand was toxic as hell to Louis through out their companionship though. No debating that.

7) so again, this is a crack theory, I’ll admit . But remember how Daniel tells Louis . “Memory is a monster.WE forget , memories don’t .” This I believe is a reference to repressed memories . Because irl when you’ve repressed a traumatic memory : your emotions and behavior still reflect that forgotten trauma ( you just don’t know and understand the root cause of your behavior). Why Daniel suggested Edmr to Louis (it helps recover and re-contextualize lost memories to better understand your present behavior ). So my point … Daniel and Louis may be acting in certain ways that they don’t even understand (because of their repressed memories). So What if Louis found out about the affair and Armand erased it ? It would possibly explain some of Louis behavior toward Daniel.For example, whenever Daniel gets distracted from Louis's story because he's looking at Armand - the camera pans to Louis and Louis' expression is certainly... interesting whenever this occurs.

It would possibly explain some of Louis behavior toward Daniel. Louis laughing about Daniel’s heart break about Alice (*which may actually be about Armand ). Louis smirking and side eyeing Armand, when Daniel said he wasn’t interested in Armand’s blood ( *Daniel as a human used to drink Armand’s blood). Daniel in s2e5 interrupting louis to say 'follow up with Armand' and Louis side-eyes the hell out of him XD.

In s2e5 Louis also says very angrily : “who would care if another drug addicted homophile disappeared. The Berkeley barb?” (Alluding to Daniel being closeted ,mocking his past drug habit+ college newspaper, and implying he was insignificant). Now even though that was technically part of the reason he initially approached Daniel in the 70s (and Louis sadly does have a habit of saying mean stuff to people he cares about) … it’s still odd how much venom he said it with in the present . Especially in contrast to the speech flashback in the same episode (that had the opposite sentiment).

Also something else I always found really strange. In the last ep of s2, Louis verbally defends Daniel from Armand (telling Armand not to hurt Daniel). And right after this Louis moves in to shake Daniel's hand - Daniel immediately backs up afraid . We also see Daniel be afraid of Louis in the s1e1 script : “ The attack on the tape is horrifying … begging and screaming … suddenly Louis transports himself across the room and presses the stop button. Molloy tries to hide his fear as Louis towers over him.”The strange thing is- if it's simply just a human reaction because Louis' a powerful vampire & Daniel has a subconscious fear of Louis after he attacked him in the 70s. Then WHY wasn't he even MORE afraid of Armand (after all the shit Armand did to Daniel in the 70s)?? Why does Daniel not even flinch after he destroys Armand's 77 y long relationship (and theoretically created a perfect reason for Armand to attack him)? Is it because he subconsciously knows Armand wouldn't actually harm him???

8) [Armand brainwashing Louis]. So remember how Armand ‘s memory powers work- by repeating a phrase over and over again until the victim believes the memory or thought implanted? Even if this was completely unintentional/accidental on Armand’s part. I do find it interesting (and strange) that Armand essentially implanted in Louis mind that he was “partial “ to Daniel. Partial means you like someone OR you have a bias in favor of someone over other people in a conflict. I just find that kind of ironic cause before s2e5 , Daniel/ Louis were constantly beefing while Armand was essentially the referee trying to get them to chill the F-out . And at least for a good portion of the show it seemed Armand was the one actually “partial” to Daniel. It just made me wonder , if we’re missing something . Also , if Armand really only met Daniel once, and was still jealous and resentful of how much attention he garnered from Louis, why did he implant the thought in Louis' head that Daniel could be "fruitful in later times'???? Wouldn't he never want to see this guy again? (Even if he's supposed to be a symbol of their companionship enduring, idk, I still find it weird. Even Daniel questioned the reasoning in the beginning of the ep) .

9) I’ll be honest , I’m probably wrong about this (and it’s a crack theory). Like 90% chance It's not true … but it’s been bothering me ever since s2e5 aired. And yes, there may be some symbolic reason I’m missing (like the dialogue is similar to show the contrast between Louis and Armand’s treatment of Daniel in the 70s ) . But … something about the speech Daniel recites at the end of ep 5 is very strange to me. Not only because Louis, in Dubai, in e5, says the opposite sentiment (to said speech) . But because the words echo what Armand says or heard in e5 .

Daniel to Armand in e5: “I’m a bright young report with a point of view .” The speech repeats this line , and when Daniel says it in an earlier ep the camera pans to Armand looking at Daniel, then turning away to smile . speech : “ If things ever get bad again, these are the words you’ll hear LIKE a tape playing over and over in your mind , LIKE a song.” Armand about the tapes : “ I played the tapes twice … over and over until it was pounding in my brain LIKE a hammer ...(to Daniel) LIKE a bath … LIKE honey on your tongue .” Not to mention Armand’s powers work by repeating the same words “over and over again” . Speech: “Listen as though I’m the voice of god or an angel“ (literally in ep 5 we see Armand taken aback when Daniel is scared and starts saying “oh , my god” over and over again.And in the books Daniel described Armand as his “dark god”. )

Speech: " There are stories that need to be told." Armand: " Do you want to hear my story?" speech: You’re not insignificant " Armand to Daniel : “That makes you special.” Speech: “these words will lift you up and carry you.” (lmao, Armand’s words literally lifted and carried Daniel off the ground too ). Who knows, the line “what will it be tonight the good nurse or the gremlin?” may have a deeper meaning.

But again what really threw me off was that Louis (in Dubai) said about young Daniel in ep5: “who would care if ANOTHER drug addicted homophile disappeared? The Berkley Barb?!” speech: "You’re NOT insignificant or a junkie. you're a bright young reporter with a point of view.“ They’re literally opposing thoughts?? Not to mention it was Armand in ep 5 who called him a "reporter" & Daniel told Armand he was good at getting "angles" as a reporter (hello, 'perspective' is a synonym for 'angles').

Also , maybe just a huge plot hole but Louis later claims that when a “vampire commits to coffin” it’s nearly impossibly to wake them up , even if a “jet engine” flew by. So how did Louis wake up to save Daniel after Armand closed louis' coffin (and Armand told louis to "rest') ? Was it just because he was in so much pain that he couldn’t fall asleep? Was he fighting his instincts to save Daniel? Was Louis just over exaggerating how powerful a vampire’s sleep in a coffin is? Idk maybe it’s just a plot hole or I’m over-reading it . We do see Louis help Armand move Daniel later (so he obviously was awoken at some point). Maybe all the lines in the speech were a coincidence or just meant to juxtapose Louis and Armand's behavior. And Louis just heard the convos between Daniel/Armand from the other room, before saying the speech. But I always found ep 5 odd because of the discrepancies .

Heck, the ep prior we have Louis and Armand fighting as Daniel tries to listen to the San-Fran tape of Louis /Armand arguing. The first thing Daniel hears on the tape is his younger self essentially yelling at him : "You've forgotten man! You don't even understand the meaning of your own story!" (Which may or may not have more symbolic significance than we realize). And then the whole ending scene (of ep 4 & the audio of the tape playing Armand's voice) is abruptly cut off and the preview of ep 5 plays . Maybe it’s a hint Armand cut off and changed the ending to the following ep of San Fran too ??? “Same precise edit on 2 brains.” Who knows maybe Armand changed it cause he was afraid that certain details may start jogging memories of the affair .

And technically it would be a parallel to how Lestat let Armand take credit for saving his ex’s life (which generally changed how Louis saw the 2). And , s2e5 greatly changed how Daniel saw Louis. Armand may have done something similar to Lestat . But again it’s a crack theory … and I’m super happy with Daniel and Louis just having that nice moment (and becoming friends) . But those details always just threw me off , so I had to mention it (just incase there was some crazy plot twist in the future).

Also, if this is the case, I don't think Armand saved Daniel for romantic reasons at the time (but a different reason entirely). We see in episode 5 after Claudia's death Louis is spiraling due to grief and not abiding by his usual diet. Every night, in the 70s, he'd have sex with a young-queer male sex worker and then kill them . In the Parisian flashback we see Armand not eat but select bad guys for his coven to drain, as Armand tells Louis : "I understand you supplemented your diet (with animals)... I like how you withhold. It's alluring, it's practiced, it makes me wonder what's in there." One of the reasons Armand was attracted to Louis in the first place was because of his diet!!! But in the 70s , Armand every morning had to clean up the dead bodies of young boys whose backgrounds eerily resembled Amadeo's ( that would probably mess with anyone's psyche especially when Armand rarely ate and generally only chose shitty people or those who wanted to die). In s2e5, Armand and louis literally fight over who Louis chooses to kill (and it's implied to be an ongoing issue). Armand: "With a BOY! Things got heated with a BOY… And once again I'm here with mop and mindlessness to clean it up!” Louis: “so the room’s dirty, I’ll clean it up.” Armand: “NO! YOU make the mess I clean it up … unfortunates and broken CHILDREN. FINE!" Louis sarcastic : "Oh, FINE! the 'fine' that doesn't found like fine!" Louis later says to Armand : "sorry". And Armand retorts: Meaningless word, meaningless, a neighbor saw you while he was taking out the trash. I had to chase him down." ( Armand's face looks almost... guilty? And then the camera pans to Daniel looking at the body).Louis , surprised that Armand hasn’t killed Daniel yet : "He's alive?" Armand : " Oh, the BOY? The fascinating BOY?He's fine. He's just fine. Oh, he's fine. You're fine!This is fine! We're all FINE!"

I think Armand snapped on Daniel since he had no one else to lash out at. And, he also high key mentally snapped over Louis saying 10 hours with Daniel was more ‘fascinating' than decades with him) .But more importantly, Armand knew that covering up for injured Louis, required killing 'the boy' (like he did the neighbor) . And Daniel doesn't fit Armand's kill-code. Unlike most of Armand's victims Daniel's 'transgressions were ordinary' and unlike Malik who was 'begging for it in an hour' (Daniel fought for days) . Daniel was not Armand's usual target. Armand usually just cleaned up the dead bodies of the young sex workers (not kill them) . Armand: “128 boys and you’re the first he hasn’t consummated and drained, that makes you special.”Armand says Daniel was "special" because he was the 'first boy’ that ended up still being alive by the time Armand got there with his "mop". The fact Armand literally counted EVERY ‘call boy’ he was forced to clean up is probably an indicator Louis' choices in victims bothered Armand more than he lets on.

Also the show keeps on implying over and over that Armand doesn’t really drink blood very often (in the Parisian flashback louis asks if Armand is going to eat with his coven which he doesn’t) . Then Louis mentions twice to Daniel that Armand ‘rarely eats’. In the books, ancient vamps could go years without blood. Then we’re told later in Dubai by Louis that Armand generally only targets certain humans who cause a lot of harm to the world , and this is backed up by the flashback in Paris .Armand in Paris describing his target: “while their country men starved and clutched their ration cards, they made quite a killing on the black market . Enjoy yourselves .” But in front of Daniel he says : “ they (humans) were all the SAME to us, cattle for our DAILY suppers .” And he also says to Daniel that in Paris he often drank the blood of young men , like Daniel “for sport.” So what’s the truth??? The books say Armand (usually) only killed humans that were “evil doers” or that wanted to die. So … is he lying or exaggerating a facade to Daniel? Is he trying to look worse (and more bloodthirsty) in front of Daniel for some odd reason? Why? Well, maybe he’s trying to say things that would decrease the chance of Daniel remembering him. Armand even says to Daniel: “He had taken a mortal lover ! Hah, more heresy!!!” Armand just had to slip in his backstory that he personally finds the idea of banging a mortal sacrilegious and that he’d never EVER do it ! Though protest too much, maybe !

10) Throughout the present storyline we have Armand constantly protect Daniel. Which is narrative whiplash from what we saw in the flashback of the 2 first meeting. It begs the audience to question what changed from the 70s till now ? Is it really just because Armand thinks Louis likes Daniel? We have Armand stop Louis from exacerbating his Parkinson’s symptoms, and immediately apologize for what Louis just did. Then, when Louis goes into Daniel’s mind and mocks him over his failed proposal. Armand tries to stop it and then comforts him. And the next day (while Louis is asleep) Armand apologizes for Louis using his powers against Daniel for a second time. And throughout the present storyline we never actually see him use his powers against Daniel (despite all the jabs and provocations). Perhaps not using his powers and apologizing for Louis doing so - indicates his guilty conscious over what he did to Daniel? He wishes he could apologize but he can’t do so sincerely without exposing the truth . He has to stay in character (or else it could destroy his relationship with Louis).

Before s2e7 Daniel never verbally acknowledged any of Armand’s apologies . But when Armand says Louis “forgave (him)” for Paris . We then have Daniel say: “I didn’t forgive you.” And for some reason , Armand looks hurt that some ‘ insignificant mortal ‘ doesn’t forgive him. And then he tries to put back on his calm facade . But it’s fake, because he immediately changes the subject away from Paris to something personal , and mentions how Daniel’s past addiction did far more damage to his mind than his memory wipes in San Fran. Which ...(after Daniel's vermouth line) maybe Armand brings up the memory wipe cause he's not sure how much Daniel knows and whether Daniel is secretly alluding to ‘not forgiving him’ for memory-wiping their relationship. Or perhaps he's (lashing out and bringing up the memory wipe) because he knows if Daniel knew the truth , he probably would not forgive him for the 2nd larger memory wipe . Then he sits back down and backtracks : “fine , you want an apology . I’m sorry. WE thought it was the right thing to do“ passive aggressive or not… It’s interesting that he's even willing to say it at all, when he won’t even dignify Louis with one. “ you’re mad I erased it? You have no right to be.” The last time Armand said "sorry" to Louis was in Paris. Ever since Louis laughed and sarcastically said he was “sorry” for leaving him multiple times a year. Armand has never apologized to Louis, again. Armand :” tri-annual fuck off and find me, with apologies to follow.” Louis laughs and says sarcastically : “I’m sorry”. . Louis : “so-so. “ Armand: “what’s that? “ Louis: “sorry” . Armand : “meaningless word . Meaningless .” Hmm, then why are you constantly apologizing to Daniel??? Is it really just an empty gesture/manipulation tactic ? or is there a deeper reason?

11) Armand brings up Lestat (his and Louis’ ex) asking: “Did he BREAK you Louis? Are you broken?" Later Daniel says " That's why I go after you real Rashid . YOU (unlike Armand) I can fucking BREAK!" Then Armand whispers 'excuse me' and storms out . The only other time Armand asked to be "excused" and stormed out was when Daniel called him a "rent boy" (which would obviously be triggering regardless but even worse if Daniel was his ex).So the whole "BREAK" line may have a deeper meaning than the literal interpretation. Maybe that line hit a nerve cause he actually felt like Daniel 'broke' him. Armand talking about Daniel: "He wants YOU in pieces." Armand to Daniel, the supposedly 'insignificant mortal': " I did it to protect me… from YOU, Mr. Molloy. Why do I owe YOU my shame. Why do I owe YOU. "

Note , in s2ep7 he says he ripped out Claudia’s diary pages that had his name in them (aka memories of himself ) from Daniel’s viewing . And literally yells that he did it to protect himself from Daniel. He pretty much admitted he may have erased himself from Daniel’s memory to “protect (himself).” Meanwhile he may have rationalized erasing Louis attempt in San Fran as “protecting him from himself.” Begrudgingly he apologized for erasing Daniel’s memory but immediately shuts down Louis concern . Weird priorities ,Armand .

12) If Armand was overthinking , and contemplating whether or not Daniel knew about the relationship because of : the 'vermouth' line, 'I don't forgive you', and saying how Louis' romance with Armand 'reminded him of something', etc. And then he sees Daniel has the trial -script which was given to him by the talamasca . And the talamasca has surveillance on all vamps. Is it that hard to believe that Armand assumed Daniel already knew about the affair (because of the talamasca) ? And did this partially as “pay back” ? Especially when Daniel should only remember Armand torturing and trying to kill him. And all Daniel does (after blowing up his marriage) is adjust his glasses and stare into Armand’s eyes, with apparently no fear . He may assume Daniel already knows , and just doesn’t tell Louis (cause Daniel isn’t sure if Louis would be angry at him). When Armand looks at Daniel , at the table, this might be when Armand thinks: *it's officially confirmed Daniel knows about their past relationship*. In a show that already has the motif of “pov changes the perception of a story” . Anything is possible …

13) Armand to Daniel (who he supposedly only met once): “It’s in your nature , Mr . Molloy . Can’t get OUT THE DOOR before lobbing one MORE bomb.”

In the novels, Daniel was infamous for leaving Armand over and over again. This was because Armand would constantly refuse to turn him, leading Daniel to feel unloved , leaving, doing substances , and mentally begging for Armand to come and find him again. This also echoes Louis’ behavior in the 70s too: “tri-annual, fuck off and find me. With apologies to follow ( after a drug binge).” But maybe the last time Daniel left - he dropped one last bomb , on their relationship. In the books , Armand turned him in 1985 , the same year that show-alice was pregnant. It’s possible this was the bomb Daniel decided to leave Armand with . But here’s the thing. Armand was a child whose whole life was negatively affected by his parents abandoning him . He may not want to contribute to that. As Armand said “children” are “innocent.” He was abandoned by his parents, abandoned by his maker /lover who raised him as a teen and called him “son”, he felt abandoned by Lestat. And he probably felt abandoned by Daniel & Louis walking out on him over and over . And he may not have wanted some “innocent “ kid to deal with that cause of his & Daniel’s relationship . In the books Armand had a soft spot for human kids . It could make his words as he turned to Daniel have more symbolic weight : “the sleep of an infant . Blank slate (tabula rasa).”

And (after turning him) he may have left cause he couldn’t deal with being abandoned AGAIN. Not after Louis just left and Daniel has done so - many times before. So he “abandoned“ him first. In the books , he said he left Daniel after turning him cause he assumed Daniel would hate him for turning him into a 'monster' . Armand says in the show: “those we make ourselves are bound to despise us “ (and this is a quote directly from TVA where he mentions turning Daniel and his resentment for Marius). In the unpublished draft of one of Anne rice’s books , Armand reunited with the vampire-Daniel and says “I didn’t mean to abandon you." Note before the finale, Armand talks about memory wipes , turns to Daniel and says “a few days after we abandoned him.” And then he almost cried (now could he just be crying about Louis attempt that he mentioned right before this, of course. Assad even said that event traumatized Armand and there is narrative proof for that) . But I only mention the scene for two reasons. 1) the timing of him crying the second he turns away from Louis ,looks at Daniel , and says he ‘ abandoned him’ (makes me wonder if he’s thinking of the last memory wipe where he actually abandoned Daniel). And 2) “Abandoned” is such a strong word for someone you barely know , don’t care about , and find ‘insignificant’ . why not say ‘ditch ‘, ‘dump’, etc? Even Daniel an ep prior says “your boyfriend (Armand) is ditching us.” When Armand does say this line we even have Daniel close his eyes , turn away, and blink rapidly like he’s trying to emotionally process something (but just doesn’t know what ). Then Armand puts back on his calm mask and the next thing he says is “continuing on the record , I was a coward, Mr molloy. “ As Daniel just stares at him.

So, maybe... If Daniel wants Armand back , he’ll actually have to find Armand after he’s run away ( like Armand always did for Daniel). Daniel: “Have you heard from my maker?”

14)People always question how Daniel and Armand could have had the affair - if Armand was with Louis. But there’s several possible explanations. This scene alludes to one possibility . *pans to Louis sleeping in the day*. Armand : “he’ll awaken when the sun sleeps. We should probably wait for him.” Daniel smirks : “probably” . *prolonged silence as Armand smiles at him and then looks away. After this, he breaks the silence, and brings up "blenders" ( possibly recollecting his time with Daniel , during the day) -in the 1970s he would constantly wreck Daniel's blenders .

I mean… think about it, guys. Armand has been shown to be able to go out in the daytime since the 70s, he hunted in the day in s2 , and in the day he did not “wait” for Louis to talk to Daniel ( about “ fetishes”, and his sex life). Armand literally could have just had the affair in the daytime while Louis was none the wiser sleeping. And Armand also mentions in s2e5 that Louis would leave him for prolonged periods of time “tri-anually." So 3 times a year he could have just been with Daniel (on night island). And of course it’s also possible they had a “brief separation” similar to how Lestat was separated from Louis for years and lived with his human lover…

Other possible eastereggs:

-Daniel seemed very upset after reading about a failed relationship between a vampire and human . And if Daniel is mixing up Alice with Armand . There’s a possible parallel between Charlie/claudia and Armand/Daniel. Aka both eating pink & white ice cream with their vampire lovers. In the books Armand would often take Daniel to restaurants and cafes too. And, the way Louis mentions he knew the street that Daniel & Alice went to and the strange look he gives Daniel , as Daniel describes the moment .... makes me wonder if he found out about them , when Armand/Daniel were in Paris .

-It’s a little weird Armand (a vampire who can’t even taste alcohol) is so good at making Daniel’s drinks. Daniel even writes in his notes that it’s weird that the drinks taste like ‘ Rashid’ was trained at the Dukes.so yeah- why is a vamp that good at making Daniel’s drinks just to his liking . Experience? Also when Louis mentions that Daniel was curious about how Armand’s blood tasted . Daniel asks for a “refill” - hinting that maybe he has had Armand’s blood in the past and that he will get a refill (once he’s turned in s2). Also, it’s ironic when Armand says to Daniel “I wouldn’t allow you near my neck if-“ and human Daniel literally bites his neck while being turned, in the books.

- In s2e1, Armand says " The boy from San francisco" ( and he speaks normally until 2 Lines in particular.He then takes 2 large pauses with a pained expression as he says: " He's still in there... we can find him". Not only is it suspicious on Armand's end but it could also allude to the rest of s2 having hints in the narrative that 'young Daniel' (who was with Armand- is still in there) . Like Daniel getting upset thinking about the 'proposal' along with other scenes.

- Louis said having sex with a vampire ,as a human, is something you can never really forget . And Daniel “really” thought he had sex with a vampire . Maybe it just wasn’t Louis? I also find it narratively interesting that almost all the vampire couples meet each other when one of them was human : Lestat/louis, Claudia/madeline, Armand/Daniel . And , in the novels, the biggest issue for Daniel and Armand’s relationship was the fact he wouldn’t turn Daniel. I also would just find it ironic and funny if Armand who criticized Claudia and Lestat for being romantically attached to humans , ends up doing the same decades later .

- I just think having Daniel’s words bite him in the ass , would be narratively fulfilling and hilarious . Daniel : “This is great , you shared a boyfriend” (maybe you and Louis did too?) Daniel : “it’s a telenovela!” (You know a common trope of telenovelas and soap operas- amnesia causing you to forgot your lover ). Daniel to Louis: "you took (him) back... lover, murderer, maker (cough Maybe Daniel will take Armand back ). “you talk about him 50 years later like he was your soulmate. Locked together in some fucked up romance.” ( Well 50 years ago, Armand in both the show and books locked you up for a bit… but you still ended up dating him.) Louis: "He was MY murderer,MY mentor, MY lover, MY maker... death, rebirth, coming out." Daniel ('have you seen MY maker') Molloy judgey as hell: "coming out? What's sexuality got to do with it? "

- Daniel mentions how when someone wants to create emotional distance from a situation it becomes impersonal, “ going from I to oneself , himself.” This obviously refers to Louis’ words in relation to San-Fran , but the camera also pans to Armand looking uncomfortable (as Daniel explains this). Armand already did something similar when recounting his past “This is amadeo . He is …” But what Daniel said , had me thinking . Armand was plenty comfortably in s2e5 addressing Daniel by his first name. But now he (almost) exclusively refers to him as “Mr. Molloy” - maybe because he wants “emotional distance” from him? Armand about an ex: "THE NAME! THE NAME! unuttered in our home for... years!"

- Daniel in the show says terrified “ It’s you who’s fascinating ! You can read minds right?” (Aka he was terrified but was telling the truth- Which Armand sensed.)This echoes Daniel’s thoughts of Armand before they first started dating in the books (but were still getting to know each other post entrapment) : “in mute fascination, Daniel had watched Armand.”/ “Daniel found himself fascinated. sometimes trying to write down the things Armand had told him.”

- Armand says to Daniel : “you are going to teach me how to be fascinating .” And he also told Louis : “we are teachers of one another .” In the books once Armand and Daniel become a couple he says : “you will be my teacher .”

- Daniel asking Louis for the dark gift: “give it to me. “ Louis to Daniel: “and I paraphrase … you said give it to me, make me a vampire” . Daniel to Armand in the books : “give it to me, damn you , immortality as close as your arms . “

- In the books when Armand for the first time admits he loves Daniel in Pompeii … he “gently puts (Daniel) on his knees , using his hands” . This is after Daniel looks at a pompeii mural of a naked character kneeling . It contrasts the scene of Armand telepathically and aggressively putting Daniel on his knees when they first met . The visual storytelling of both scenes would show how far the relationship has changed since they first met (how could the show runners not do it? It would be a wasted opportunity!)

- Daniel’s apartment has a painted blue sky . In the d.m chapter Armand was said to be fascinated by blue skies and he’d also painted clouds in Marius’ paintings .

- Daniel & Armand talked about Marius’ painting and Daniel later remarks about the “stolen Rembrandt” (we see Armand smirk at the mention of this ) . It could be a hint because Armand used to steal paintings and give them to Daniel . We even see in s1e1 Daniel doing a puzzle of a famous painting- that in the books Armand showed Louis.

- Daniel also complains about Armand’s disguises as Armand stares and smirks again. Maybe thinking about how young Daniel enjoyed his human costumes. Armand literally impersonated a human attorney to get Daniel out of jail (could he have just used the mind gift? Sure , but that’s not as fun, is it? ) Bro prob loved his disguise when Armand bailed him out of jail, dropped him off at a hotel to sleep off his hangover , and filled Daniel’s wallet with multiple $100 dollar bills. Did I mention they weren’t even dating yet ? Also Louis’ excuse for Armand’s ‘Rashid disguise’ was : “my love was in charge of a theater troupe for over a 150 years .” So are human disguises just something he does on the regular for fun 😅 ? Or is Louis just that in denial XD ? Both? Obviously he may have just done the disguise so he could monitor the interview without being directly involved or mentioned in Daniel’s book (even ripping himself out of Claudia’s journal pages that mentioned him). But yeah… if he also wanted to be extra careful about Daniel not remembering him: pretending to be a 20 something year old human servant , using a different name (would help) .

- It may be a coincidence, but when Armand finally broke character in s1 (and started to take off his gloves to remove his contacts) he does so right after Daniel called himself a "wh*re". That's what caused him to break character. Which, given both their backgrounds, and if they did date- Armand may really dislike Daniel calling himself that.

- I feel if (in the show) d.m did happen in the past .They placed some interesting eastereggs to allude to it. In the show , Daniel interviewed Louis on divisdero street and then Armand kept him in the apartment for days and Daniel was eventually let go . This echos how in the book: after Daniel interviewed Louis on divisdero street , Daniel finds lestat’s house and meets Armand for the first time .Armand temporarily imprisons him there and then lets him go (saying he’s going to watch him and if he grows bored of him he’ll either eat him or simply lose track of him). But then he gets to know Daniel over the years and they eventually get together. My guess (if it happened in the show): Daniel with what little he remembered …and using his skills in ‘investigative-journalism ‘ found the apartment on divisdero street again and Armand was there- then the chase began. Armand in the book stalked Daniel until they became an item , and in the show he observed and stalked Louis and Lestat before they hooked up too ( a pattern of behavior ) .

-(Maybe just me coping) but sometimes I wonder if one of the reasons we didn't see Daniel's turning is because it would give too much away (and that it may be shown later, contrary to what the producers claim). For example, Daniel's turning in the books was "beautiful" . And in s2 Louis even says Armand could be a part of a "beautiful" turning. It's possible the turning was a lot less violent/'spiteful' than we expect (especially if Armand mistakenly assumed Daniel knew about their past). There's also a few easterggs in the show alluding to the book turning. For example: Armand putting a blanket on Daniel in s1 (is something he does after turning Daniel.) He put a blanket on him and said : “by the time you wake up you’ll be one of us.” Daniel says “quite the house plant” in reference to Armand’s purple magnolia tree which is similar to the purple wisteria tree Daniel sees when he's turned. Magnolia trees represent “everlasting love” and wisteria trees represent “enduring love”. Get it … immortality , everlasting love, ‘enduring’ being a word used often by the vamps . Armand also says he wouldn't let Daniel near his neck (which is ironic cause Daniel drinks from Armand's neck when being turned). Armand also says “I was a coward, mr molloy" which is similar to Armand telling Daniel "I'm a coward, I can't let you die." (before turning him). And before he's turned Armand tells Daniel he’s dying, and Daniel makes a sarcastic joke (that's very similar to something show Daniel would say): "yeah, yeah, as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death." And when Armand says he'll turn him (Daniel just goes silent in disbelief ). Also, Daniel not believing Armand hasn't turned anyone -is a callback to the turning where Armand says: "I've never turned anyone. I know you never believed me-" And then Daniel cut him off to say he "no, I believe you". Also there's the scene of Louis describing Madeleine's turning : "The lamb (pans to Daniel) smiling up at the wolf (pans to Armand) ." For all we know - the fact it wasn't a ' spiteful' turning may actually cause Daniel more confusion and questions regarding his maker. And it may make him wonder what else is Armand hiding . A possible reason for Daniel looking for him.

#armandaniel #devil’s minion #armand #daniel molloy #iwtv

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 3 months ago

Text

exhibitionism

part IV

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're settling into something you don’t fully understand, but it feels too good to question—too intoxicating to resist. Ben’s world is bleeding into yours, shaping it, owning it. He gives, and you take, but you’re starting to realise that nothing he gives is without cost. Doesn't matter how much that drink was anyway.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben once again being his own warning, age gap, language, misogyny, drug consumption, smut (kissing, biting, marking, slapping, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, overstim, forced orgasms, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, cum on face, throttling, rough sex, semi-public sex, somnophilia, sexsomnia, dub-con), mind games, manipulation, degradation, power imbalance, I may have missed some. (There's a bunch in this one, agh!)

Word Count: 6,697

A/N: Besties, when I tell you this took everything from me... I mean it wholeheartedly. Burnout has officially hit, and my brain feels like goddamn mush right now. I'm not even sure I proofread this properly smh. I'm not sure I'll get time to fully write the next instalment tomorrow because I've got a super busy workday, tons of appointments, but I will probably get partway started on it. Lil appearance from more of The Boys in this one, only brief mentions, but I like integrating them into this AU. Like a lil easter egg, teheh. <3 And the foreshadowing from Butcher at the end was the part I got most excited about, honestly. Cryptic motherfucker, always. The fic ain't called "exhibitionism" for nothing. 👀 You know the drill: if all the warnings listed above aren't evident yet, they will be. And please let me know what y'alls thoughts are. I am so grateful to each and every one of you for reading the utter sewage my brain creates. Signing off, until the next one. All the love.

Without further ado: EXHIBITIONISM

Power is not taken. It is given.

A glance across the bar. A drink set down without a word. A hand at the small of your back, guiding you somewhere you don’t belong.

It starts small—a single indulgence, a breathless yes.

Then, suddenly, you are on display. Draped over his lap, diamonds at your throat, whiskey on your lips. A possession. A prize. A thing to be seen.

Because men like him do not love. They own.

Morning crept in slow and golden, stretching lazy fingers of light through the blinds, spilling across the tangled sheets and the expanse of your bare skin.

The air smelled like him—cologne and sweat and sin—clinging to your body, to the silk of his pillows, sinking deep into your bones. You stirred, muscles aching in ways that made your stomach clench with something warm and satisfied, stretching like a cat before finally rolling out of bed.

The penthouse was quiet, except for the distant hum of the city far below. Your steps were soft against the cool marble as you padded into the kitchen, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your eyes. That’s when you saw it—

A small note on the counter, scrawled in what you assumed was Butcher’s blunt handwriting, sitting beside a Plan B.

Ben’s smirk was already curling at the corner of his mouth when you turned to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with that lazy, knowing amusement. He pushed off with an easy roll of his shoulders, stepping into your space, patting your ass before grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

“Go on then,” he murmured, filling the glass with water and pressing it into your hands. “Take it.”

You scowled at him, but you swallowed the pill anyway, washing it down under his watchful gaze. He looked too damn pleased with himself, grinning as he pressed a slow kiss to your temple before ushering you towards the shower.

The water was steaming by the time you both stepped in, the morning unfurling in quiet touches, hands gliding over slick skin, fingers threading through hair, the press of lips at the nape of your neck. It was unhurried, indulgent, all the urgency of the night before tempered into something softer, something that felt dangerously close to domestic.

By the time you were dressed, Ben had already decided breakfast was happening at some ridiculous rooftop restaurant, the kind that overlooked the city, all glass and steel and expensive finishes. He ordered coffee and something hearty, sipping slow while you picked at fruit and yogurt, the conversation easy, teasing, laced with the occasional knowing glance that had heat curling in your stomach.

After breakfast, you met up with Butcher, who wasted no time pulling up photos of apartments closer to Ben’s building.

“This one,” Ben said, barely glancing at the others before nodding at the one with the small, covered balcony. The space was perfect—something about the idea of you sitting out in the rain, curled up with a book, had him making the decision in seconds.

Then it was back to his penthouse, back to tangled sheets and tangled limbs, the hours slipping by in a haze of heat and slick skin, moans swallowed by deep, open-mouthed kisses. He left you completely spent, fucked out and boneless, only pausing his grumbling long enough to drive you back to your apartment. The whole ride was a steady stream of muttered complaints about your neighbourhood, about how it was a goddamn miracle you hadn’t been mugged yet, about how he was getting you the fuck out of there.

“Class schedule.”

You blinked at him, still dazed, before rattling it off. He grunted, nodding. “I’ll send some people over when you get back tomorrow to start packin’ your shit.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he wasn’t done.

“You need any more textbooks?”

That did it. Your face softened, eyes going wide and warm, something fluttering in your chest that you couldn’t quite suppress.

Ben saw it. And he smirked. “Christ, look at you,” he drawled, laughing, shaking his head. “You didn’t make that face when I bought you a whole fuckin’ wardrobe, but mention some books and you’re about ready to cream yourself.”

You huffed, shoving at his chest, but he caught your wrist, yanking you in for one last kiss, deep and slow, like he was trying to swallow you whole.

The next morning, you fell into a rhythm. You sent him a picture of two outfits, and he picked the jeans and the blouse.

Monday was lectures, the familiar comfort of academia wrapping around you like a second skin. Literature, language, the hum of the NYU campus filling your lungs like fresh air. You read in a café, met up with Hughie from Language, and Frenchie and Kimiko from Lit for lunch, an easy camaraderie settling between you before you all went your separate ways.

When you got home, a team was already waiting, efficiently packing up your apartment, boxing up memories, folding your life into neat stacks ready to be moved.

Tuesday followed the same rhythm, though the day was punctuated with texts from Ben. Filthy. Teasing. Full of smug impatience.

Bet that professor of yours wouldn’t be able to finish his lecture if he knew what you let me do to you.

And—

You gotten yourself all wet thinking about me yet, baby?

By noon, he demanded nudes, and you had to send them from a bathroom stall between classes, biting your lip as you hit send, warmth flooding through you at the immediate, possessive response.

Wednesday, everything was packed and ready. Ben showed up in the morning to meet your landlord, wrapping up the lease without a second glance, barely disguising his disgust at the place. His presence filled the almost-empty apartment, making it seem even smaller, even less yours.

Thursday, you moved.

The new apartment was waiting, the transition seamless, orchestrated by Ben’s efficient, silent influence. And standing there, at the front door, you realised something—you weren’t just moving apartments. You were moving into something entirely new.

And that was fucking daunting.

You hesitated in the doorway, heart thudding against your ribs, fingers curling into your palms. The apartment was perfect—too perfect. Light poured in through the massive windows, catching on soft pastels and warm wood, the carefully curated balance of elegance and comfort. It felt like you in a way that your old apartment never had.

And that was the part that terrified you.

Your breath came slow and uneven as you stepped inside, eyes scanning over the furniture, your furniture—only better.

Your little cream love seat and vintage armchair were there, the pastel pillows and soft throws draped just as you liked them—but there was a new sofa too. Big. Plush.

But the new dining table caught your attention—matching chairs, sleek but cozy, nothing like the old mismatched ones you’d made do with.

And then there was the bookshelf. Massive. Elegant. Full. Every book of yours finally had a home, instead of being stacked in chaotic, unstable towers on the floor.

“Jesus,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, stepping deeper inside.

Behind you, Ben leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, smug as all fuck, watching you take it in.

“Not bad, huh?”

You turned to glare at him, but it didn’t hold any heat. He knew what he’d done. Knew exactly how overwhelming this was for you. His lips curled, just barely, and he straightened, moving inside with slow, predatory steps, following your path through the space like a shadow.

The kitchen was next—a fucking upgrade. Marble counters, brass fixtures, farmhouse sink, all sleek and way too fucking nice for someone like you. Your fingers drifted along the counter’s cool surface, trying to ground yourself, but Ben’s heat was already at your back, pressing in close.

He exhaled against your ear. “Y’gonna stare at ‘em all day or let me fuck you against ‘em?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head, moving away before you let yourself melt. The bathroom was next, and it sealed your fate.

A clawfoot tub. Deep, luxurious, like something out of a fucking dream.

Your stomach twisted. You turned to face him, voice uneven. “Ben, I—”

But he was already grinning, leaning against the doorframe like he was enjoying the hell out of this.

“Keep goin’, sweetheart,” he drawled, gesturing lazily. “Ain’t even seen the best part yet.”

Your jaw clenched, but your feet carried you forward anyway. The bedroom felt like stepping into a dreamscape. The silk bedding, pastel and delicate, the new wardrobe and dresser already stocked with your things. He’d kept your lightwood bed, but everything else was elevated, just enough to make it clear that this was different.

Your throat felt tight. Too much. Too fucking much.

The last thing left was the balcony.

And the second you stepped outside, you broke.

The hanging chair, the plants, the fairy lights, the small bistro table—all of it settled into you like a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The soft scent of flowers mixed with the distant city air, the quiet promise of solitude. The moment you took it in, really took it in, you whipped around and smashed your lips to his.

Ben caught you instantly, groaning into your mouth, gripping you like he’d been waiting for you to crack. Your fingers dug into his shirt, his arms cinched tight around your waist, his heat overwhelming every last thought in your head.

When you finally broke away, your breath was ragged. “I can’t—” You swallowed, chest heaving. “I can’t let you pay for this. How much even is this place?”

Ben just fucking laughed.

One hand gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had to look at him, so smug you wanted to slap him and fuck him at the same time.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he murmured, kissing along your jaw, nipping at your neck. “Chump change, sweetheart.”

You gasped as his teeth scraped your pulse, your hands clutching at his biceps as he backed you into the railing, pressing you firmly against the cool metal.

“Now,” he continued, voice a low, dangerous purr, “Let’s go christen every fuckin’ room.”

You barely had time to breathe before he was hauling you inside, dragging you straight to the living room, lips crashing into yours, devouring you like he was starving. Your back hit the love seat, his hands everywhere, pulling at your clothes. Tugging. Gripping. Taking.

Then it was the kitchen. He shoved you up against the marble counters, hands groping under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool stone. His mouth was hot and demanding, moving down your throat, his hands already slipping under your clothes, pushing them aside.

He kissed you in the bathroom, bent you over the sink, his breath ragged against your ear as he whispered, “Gonna wreck you against every fuckin’ surface in this place, doll.”

Then it was the bedroom, your back hitting silk sheets, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress, hips grinding down, lips bruising against yours, murmuring filthy things about ruining these nice new sheets with you.

By the time he dragged you back out to the balcony, sweat-slick and completely spent, your head was spinning. The apartment smelled like heat and sex and him.

Ben was grinning, tucking his face into your neck, voice still wrecked from hours of claiming you.

“There,” he murmured, pressing one last possessive kiss to your throat. “Now it smells like home.”

The night air was crisp against your sweat-slick skin, the city stretching out below in endless neon veins, blinking and alive, thrumming beneath your feet like a pulse.

The scent of him clung to you—smoke and sweat, sex and heat—woven into your very being. You stood on the balcony, caught in the quiet aftermath, his body flush against yours, heat radiating from every point of contact between you.

Ben exhaled hard, fingers flexing on your waist before he reached for his pack of cigarettes, sliding one between his teeth before offering you the pack. He didn’t say anything, just held it out like it was expected, like it was second nature to include you in his vices now.

You hesitated for a second, then plucked one free. He smirked around the cigarette between his lips, flicking his lighter open with one smooth movement. The flame caught in his eyes, sharp and knowing, and he let it burn just long enough to make you wait before lighting yours too.

The first drag filled your lungs, burning hot, the nicotine grounding you in the moment. You exhaled slow, watching the smoke curl into the night air before swallowing hard.

“This is… a lot.” Your voice came quieter than you meant it to. “I feel bad letting you pay for all this.”

Ben scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the railing, one arm still looped around your waist, keeping you close.

“Already told you, sweetheart,” he muttered around his cigarette, voice rough and amused. “It’s chump change.”

You frowned, taking another slow drag before exhaling through your nose. “It’s just… it’s a bit daunting, you know?” You glanced up at him, then back out at the skyline. “I only met you six nights ago, and now I live in a whole new place.”

Ben said nothing, just watched you with that unreadable expression, eyes dark and steady, cigarette smouldering between his fingers.

You sighed, your free hand curling against his chest, absently tracing the fabric of his shirt. “I guess I’m just worried it won’t work out, and then I’ll be out on my ass with no safety net.” You huffed a humourless laugh, shaking your head.

“I don’t wanna have to crawl back to my parents and tell them they were right.” Your jaw tensed, voice sharpening. “Not that I fucking would.”

Ben cut you off before you could spiral further.

“You’re never gonna be out on your ass again.”

The way he said it—flat. Firm. Absolute—made something in your stomach twist.

You turned your head, brows drawing together. “Ben?”

He exhaled smoke, slow and steady, his free hand dragging over your hip, slipping beneath your shirt to spread wide against your bare skin. He wasn’t looking at you, not at first, just watching the city lights like he was making a decision in real-time. Then, finally, he turned his head, gaze locking onto yours with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You haven’t even known me a week,” you murmured, searching his face. “How do you know you’re not gonna find some prettier, better girl and wanna turf me out?”

The look he gave you—sharp, incredulous, disgusted like you’d said something offensive—had your stomach flipping.

“There ain’t a fuckin’ prettier girl,” he said, making a face, like the very suggestion was absurd. “And there sure as fuck ain’t a better one.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He shifted, cigarette dangling from his lips as his hand on your waist tightened, his voice dipping into something low, possessive, dangerous.

“You’re fuckin’ everything I’ve been lookin' for.” His fingers flexed, grip unrelenting, pulling you closer. “Smart, funny, fuckin’ gorgeous.” His lips curled around the words, dragging them out like he wanted to carve them into your skin.

“You fuck like a whore and take everythin' I give you—” His breath ghosted hot against your jaw as he leaned in. “—and still look up at me like you want more.”

Your pulse roared.

Ben smirked, watching the way your body reacted to his words, the way your thighs pressed together just slightly, how your fingers tightened around your cigarette.

He inhaled deeply, exhaled slow, smoke swirling around both of you before he nudged your chin up with two fingers, gaze dark and unreadable.

“Finish your smoke,” he murmured, voice dropping into something lower, lazier, filthy with certainty. “Look at the pretty lights. And stop that girly little brain of yours from worryin' too much.”

You let out a breath—half a laugh, half surrender, shaking your head.

“You’re a dick,” you muttered, but the words held no real bite.

He grinned, smug and knowing. “And you're a fuckin' pussy.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned into him, letting your body mould against his, warmth seeping between you as the city sparkled below. The lights blinked in the distance, twinkling like something out of a dream, like something unreal, but his hand on your waist was solid, his breath against your temple real, grounding you in the moment.

You took another slow drag from your cigarette, exhaling against his throat, lips parting—

And fuck it.

You turned your head, caught his jaw, kissed him slow and deep, your hand curling into the collar of his shirt.

Ben groaned into your mouth, fingers digging into your waist, claiming, gripping, owning.

You let yourself melt into it, into him, into the feeling of standing there, high above the city, wrapped up in the most dangerous man you’d ever met.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—you’d landed exactly where you were supposed to be.

The night settled around you, thick and quiet, the kind of quiet that came with expensive insulation and the weight of being somewhere that finally felt safe. The apartment smelled like fresh sheets, lingering traces of sex, and the faint burn of nicotine from earlier. You were still reeling, still trying to make sense of it all—the space, the luxury, him—but Ben wasn’t giving you the time to overthink it.

You were curled up on the new couch, legs tucked beneath you, one of your pastel throws draped over your lap. Ben had his arm slung across the back of the sofa, casual, lazy, like he owned the place. Like he owned you.

And maybe he did. You just hadn’t figured it out yet.

His eyes tracked over you, slow, assessing, fingers idly rubbing at his knee. “What time you in class tomorrow?”

You blinked, pulling your thoughts back to the present. “Uh… first lecture’s at eight.”

Ben’s mouth curled, something smug and knowing glinting in his eyes. “Good. I’m stayin’ the night.”

You tilted your head at him, curious. “You are?”

“Yeah.” He stretched, then smirked, shrugging like it was already decided. “Don’t gotta be up ‘til five. Sleepin’ in, really.”

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s sleeping in?”

“For me, yeah.” He flicked his eyes back over to you, watching you shift in your seat, processing what it meant. That he was staying here. With you. Like this was his bed, his space, his routine to alter.

You pursed your lips, rolling the thought over in your head. “What do you do, exactly?”

Ben’s smirk twitched into something a little sharper, a little less amused. “Not important.”

It didn't really catch you off guard, he'd said the same thing when you'd asked before, but you were curious so you pressed. “It is important.”

That made him pause. His head tilted, eyes narrowing just slightly, like he was trying to decide if he should be irritated by that answer. “Oh yeah?”

You swallowed, curling your fingers into the blanket. “You said part of this… deal between us is that I look after you.” You shifted, looking at him pointedly. “That means I should know what you do. So I can help you unwind if you’re stressed. So you can talk to me about things.”

That made him laugh.

Low, throaty, dark amusement curling through his chest, rolling out like it tasted fucking sweet. His head tipped back against the couch, one hand dragging over his jaw as he exhaled.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head before glancing back at you, all teeth and smirking condescension. “You really are a sweet little thing, huh?”

Your jaw tensed, but you waited.

Ben shifted, stretching out a little more, taking his time. Making you wait for it.

“S’nothin' exciting,” he finally said, dragging the words out slow, like they weren’t worth rushing over. “Just run the family business.”

You frowned. “What’s your family’s business?”

He huffed a short, amused breath, then looked at you, dead serious. “I own America’s fuckin’ backbone.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

That earned you a smug, lazy grin.

Ben leaned in, voice dipping into that classic-asshole-dirty-talk tone, the kind that made heat settle low in your stomach, even when you wanted to roll your eyes.

“Steel, baby,” he muttered, voice rich, thick with that heavy arrogance. “My company builds the cities you fuckin’ live in. Highways, bridges, skyscrapers—if it stands in this country, odds are, it’s got my fuckin’ name on it.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly. “You… run a steel company?”

Ben just smirked, watching you.

“Own it.” He let the words hang for a second, savouring the weight of them before adding, “Some of the biggest manufacturers in the country? They bend over and kiss my fuckin’ boots for a contract.”

Your stomach flipped.

Of course. Of fucking course. The power, the arrogance, the complete refusal to accept no for an answer? It all made sense.

“So,” you started, voice light, playful. “You’re a glorified construction worker?”

Ben let out a short, sharp laugh, eyes flashing with something predatory as he leaned in, bringing his mouth right against your ear.

“You keep runnin’ that smart little mouth,” he murmured, breath hot against your skin, “and I’ll show you exactly how hard I work, doll.”

A full-body shudder rolled through you.

Ben grinned, sitting back, completely unbothered, watching your reaction like it delighted him.

Your lips twitched, shaking your head as you let out a breath, looking away before you did something stupid like climb into his lap and beg him to prove it.

This man was going to fucking ruin you.

The first yawn slipped out before you could catch it, your body betraying you in the warm lull of the evening. You tried to stifle it behind your hand, blinking sluggishly, but Ben saw. Of course, he saw.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched you with that lazy, predatory gaze, like he was waiting, tracking every little sign of fatigue settling in your limbs. Then, with no warning, he scooped you up like you weighed absolutely nothing, one strong arm locking under your thighs, the other bracing around your back.

A small yelp caught in your throat as your arms flew around his neck. “Ben—”

“C’mon,” he muttered, already striding toward the bedroom, completely unfazed. “Almost bedtime.”

You exhaled a laugh, already half-melting into him, the warmth of his body lulling you further into exhaustion. “You’re such a caveman.”

Ben huffed, the sound thick with amusement, but then his grip tightened slightly, and he dipped his head, voice dropping into that gravelly, smug rasp right against your ear.

“Yeah? Well, I need to get my beard wet first.”

Your breath hitched, heat flashing through your spine like a whip-crack.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You were sleepy, blushing, but that didn’t stop your thighs from pressing together, from your fingers clenching a little tighter in the fabric of his shirt. Because it didn’t matter how disgusting his mouth was—how filthy, how utterly depraved—you loved words. And he knew that.

The bastard smirked when he felt you squirm, his grip flexing possessively around your thigh, squeezing just enough to remind you who you belonged to.

You didn’t argue.

Didn’t protest when he dropped you onto the bed, didn’t say a word when he grabbed the waistband of your bottoms and peeled them off with zero ceremony, like they were a fucking obstacle. The heat in your face only deepened as he dragged you to the edge of the mattress, pulling your hips up so your ass was barely on the bed, your legs draped over his shoulders.

Then he sank to his knees.

And he got to work.

The first long, sloppy, groaning lap of his tongue had your back arching off the mattress. The second had your fingers clawing at the sheets, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He was so fucking messy, open-mouthed and hungry, tongue and lips and teeth everywhere, greedy and filthy like he was eating the meal he’d been craving all damn day.

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he rasped against you, spit-slick and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs so tight it ached. “So soft, so fuckin’ sweet—goddamn, baby, you’re just drippin’ for me.”

A shudder ripped through you, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Your thighs twitched around his head, but he only growled, fingers digging in harder, keeping you wide open, keeping you at his mercy.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, tongue dipping deep, the sound almost desperate, like he was losing his mind over it. “Could bury my face in this tight little cunt forever.”

Your hands scrambled for purchase, clenching in the sheets, in his hair, anywhere, because the way he was devouring you—

It was too much.

The obscene, wet, sucking sounds of his mouth, the deep vibrations of his groans, the sheer heat of his breath against your slick skin—it had your brain short-circuiting, had your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting too fast, too sharp.

“Ben,” you gasped, barely coherent. “I—I—”

His eyes flicked up, dangerous, knowing.

“Oh, I know,” he muttered, all smug condescension, his fingers pressing harder into your thighs. “I know what’s about to happen, baby.”

You didn’t, though.

Not until it started building, something different, something new, something that had you gasping, panicking, thighs trying to snap shut.

“B-Ben, wait—”

Slap.

His palm cracked against your inner thigh, just enough to sting, just enough to make you jolt, pleasure cutting through the panic sharp and hot.

“Shut up.” He growled it against you, voice rough with pure fucking authority, and your body obeyed before your mind did, immediately unraveling under him. “Let it happen.”

Your breath hitched, vision whiting out as something broke inside you.

And then—

It happened.

A choked sob tore from your throat as your body gave out, as pleasure ripped through you so violently your hips jolted against his face, liquid heat gushing out of you, soaking his mouth, his beard, the sheets beneath you.

Ben groaned like a man unhinged, his fingers tightening bruises into your skin, holding you still as he licked you through it, fucked you through it, savouring every fucking drop.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he rasped, completely ruined, his voice breaking into something wild. “That’s it—fuckin’ drench me—Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

You were shaking, whimpering, still trying to come down, still trying to understand what just happened.

Ben laughed, breathless and smug, so fucking pleased with himself. His hands finally eased, smoothing over your trembling thighs, gripping them possessively, reverently.

“Didn’t know you could do that, huh?” He muttered, voice hoarse, utterly wrecked.

You whimpered, shaking your head, mortified, trying to cover your face—

He didn’t fucking let you.

His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them to the bed, his mouth dragging wet, open kisses along your thighs, up your stomach, up your ribs, crawling up your body like he wasn’t done with you yet.

“You are so fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, voice thick with filth and praise, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “Gonna make you do that every goddamn night, baby—fuckin’ soaking for me.”

You whimpered, still trembling, still floating, but he just grinned, so goddamn smug, his teeth skimming your jaw.

“Now, go to sleep,” he murmured, nipping at your ear. “You’ve got an early class tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Ben’s hands were steady, careful, as he helped you scoot back properly onto the bed, smoothing his palms over your trembling thighs, gripping where he could, soaking up the aftermath of what he’d just done to you. You barely had the energy to move, limbs heavy and useless, your breath still uneven, skin flushed and oversensitive.

He didn’t seem to mind. Loved it, actually.

Smirking, he sat back on his heels, watching as you climbed under the sheets, dragging them up around you, tucking yourself into the soft, pastel silk like you were burrowing into a cocoon of warmth and safety.

Then, with a huffed breath, Ben stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. A soaked mess.

“Christ on a cross,” he muttered, holding it up in the dim light. “Look at this shit.”

You immediately tried to hide, face burning as you turned toward the pillow, but he caught it—the small, mortified shift of your body, the way you curled inward like you could disappear. And he didn’t fucking like it.

“Hey,” he tutted, sharp and chiding, tossing the damp shirt over the back of your dressing table chair. “Don’t do that.”

You swallowed, exhaling against the sheets, still embarrassed but wrecked, still completely in his grip. He watched you for a second longer, then huffed, shaking his head before shoving his boxers down and climbing into bed beside you.

The mattress dipped, warmth swallowing you whole as he wrapped himself around you, pulling you flush against his chest, strong arms locking you in place like you were fucking going anywhere. His hold was tight, heavy, possessive in a way that made your stomach flutter, even in your exhausted state.

“Excited for tomorrow night,” he murmured against your temple, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. “Gonna pick you up from here when you’re back from class.”

You made a soft, content noise, already half-melting, pressing closer, sinking deeper into the warmth of him.

Then—

Ben shifted, brow furrowing as he felt something under him, something small and soft, and he reached down, pulling it free.

Eugene.

Your stuffed bear, held dangling by one arm in his grasp, Ben staring at it like it personally offended him.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Eugene, you gotta get the fuck outta here.”

You snorted, laughter bubbling up before you could help it, giddy and wrecked and so goddamn endeared that you physically ached.

Ben just looked at you, then at Eugene, then back at you, dangling the bear slightly, like he was silently asking well?

Still giggling, you took the bear from him, hugging it against your chest, but you also nuzzled further into Ben, burying yourself beneath his arm, tangling your legs with his.

Ben sighed, a deep, satisfied breath, before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“Night, baby.”

His voice was low, heavy with something you weren’t ready to pick apart yet, something deep and final and absolute.

You mumbled something sleepy back, warm and safe and tucked into him, and for the first time in a long, long time—

You fell asleep feeling like you belonged somewhere.

When you woke again, it was slow. The kind of thick, heavy sleep that left your limbs boneless, warm, unwilling to move. But the first thing you became aware of was him.

Ben was grumbling into your hair, voice rough with sleep, chest broad and solid at your back, his arm heavy where it draped over your waist. Every breath he took vibrated through you, low and gravelly, lazy but full of complaint.

“Don’t wanna fuckin’ get up,” he muttered, his lips grazing your bare shoulder, breath hot against your skin. His hips pressed forward, and that was when you felt it—

Hard. Thick. Heavy. Pressed up against your ass, all heat and weight, his body surrounding you completely.

“Should just stay here all day,” he continued, voice low, almost slurred, still caught between sleep and wakefulness. His fingers flexed against your stomach, gripping, pulling you tighter against him. “Bury my cock in you and keep it there ‘til I gotta fuckin’ leave.”

A whimper caught in your throat, your thighs pressing together as you twitched in his hold. His breath hitched—then, his grip locked down.

His hand clamped onto your hip, pinning you to the bed, holding you still.

“If you don’t stop wigglin’ like that,” he murmured, voice dangerous, threatening, slow, “I really am gonna stay here and fuck you.”

Heat rushed to your face, your breath shuddering against the pillow as your body went still in his hold.

Ben huffed out a long, suffering groan, like he was physically forcing himself to be good, dragging himself out of bed with a grumble.

You stirred, stretching, before blinking up at him sleepily and shoving the sheets back to climb out of bed yourself.

Ben turned to look at you, brows furrowing, fully perplexed. “The fuck are you doin’?”

You blinked at him. “Getting up.”

His scowl deepened. “No, you’re not. Go back to sleep.”

You tilted your head, watching as he ran a hand down his face, already irritated by the concept of morning.

“But... you need to eat before you go.”

Ben froze.

His hand paused on his jaw. Something dark and hot flickered in his gaze, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. Then, he grinned. Slow. Lazy. Dangerous.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, running his tongue along his bottom lip, shaking his head as his eyes dragged over you. “You really are a dream girl, huh?”

Heat licked up your spine, but you held your ground, arms crossing loosely over your chest. “Ben.”

He groaned—but the good kind. The kind that sounded wrecked, that made your thighs clench together.

“Y’know how fuckin’ hot that is?” He exhaled through his nose, stepping closer, gaze dark, possessive. “Sweet little thing, tellin’ me I gotta eat before I go.” His fingers brushed over your hip, teasing, almost reverent. “Fuck me, baby, I could take you up on that right now.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, voice dropping low and thick. “But for now, I need you back in bed.”

Before you could argue, he grabbed you, pushing you back down, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His hand wrapped around your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks, pinning your face to look up at him as he climbed over you, his lips dragging slow and deliberate over yours.

He kissed you hard, sucking at your bottom lip, teeth scraping, his free hand gripping your throat, then your jaw, then your hip. Every touch was bruising, deliberate, a brand of possession that felt like it was sealing something deep into your bones.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, panting slightly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, swollen from his teeth.

“Need you rested up for later,” he murmured, eyes flicking over your face, drinking you in. “We’re goin’ out.”

Your breath stuttered, heart thudding against your ribs.

Then—he pulled away. You whined, grabby-hands reaching for him, desperate and frustrated.

Ben laughed. Smug, mocking, pleased as fuck.

“Jesus Christ, look at you,” he grinned, shaking his head as he watched you desperately reaching for him. “Clingy little thing.”

Your face burned, but you didn’t stop, fingers snagging at his wrist, pulling him back down just enough to suck another kiss out of him.

Ben groaned, deep and approving, teeth scraping your lip before he finally broke away, thumb swiping along your jaw one last time.

“You’re cute when you get needy, y’know that?” He murmured, mocking, but still praising, still smug as fuck.

You huffed, pouting.

He smirked, straightening, already moving toward his clothes. “Go back to sleep, doll. I’ll be back for you soon.”

The sound of your phone alarm ripped you from sleep, shattering the lingering warmth of your dreams. You groaned, scowling as you fumbled to shut it off, blinking bleary-eyed at the soft glow of morning filtering through your window.

Then it hit you.

This wasn’t your old apartment.

You sat up slowly, heart skipping as you glanced around, reality settling in. New walls, new furniture, new life. The silk sheets pooled around your lap, and for a moment, it felt surreal—like you were still dreaming, like this wasn’t really yours.

It didn’t feel real. Didn’t feel earned. It felt borrowed, temporary, fraudulent.

You shook yourself out of it, exhaling slow before slipping out of bed, padding across the floor to your wardrobe. Focus. Get ready. Move.

You pulled out two outfits, snapping a photo of both before sending them to Ben. His response came fast.

That one. Good fuckin’ girl.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping up your neck as you bit your lip, shaking your head before sending him another—this time, of you wearing it.

With that, you grabbed your bag and headed out.

The day passed in a blur.

Lectures, notes, the steady rhythm of campus life pulling you into its familiar current. By the time lunch rolled around, you were settling into the café with one of your friends—the same girl from last Friday, the one who had tried to get you to leave before Ben decided otherwise.

She barely let you sit down before she was grinning, eyes alight with curiosity.

“So,” she started, leaning in, “how was last weekend?”

You hesitated for a beat, then gave a small, knowing smile. “It was good.”

Her eyes widened, and she let out an excited noise, smacking your arm lightly. “Good?” She echoed. “Babe, he was fucking gorgeous.”

You laughed, shaking your head, sipping your drink. “Yeah, I know.”

“Are you seeing him again?”

You glanced up, watching her reaction carefully, then nodded. “Tonight.”

Another excited squeal, another wave of gushing, but it didn’t bother you. It was nice, in a way—to talk about him in this context, instead of just feeling him consume you whole.

By the time you finished lunch, she had pep-talked you into oblivion, and you headed back home, your steps a little lighter, a little more confident.

When you arrived, the car was already there. Butcher was waiting, leaning against the door, arms crossed.

You slowed, raising a brow, and he tilted his head in acknowledgment.

“Just gotta take my bags and stuff up,” you told him.

He waved a hand, gruff and dismissive, barely looking up. “Go on, love. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You smirked, shaking your head before heading inside, quickly changing into something better suited for the night ahead.

By the time you came back down, Butcher was already in the driver’s seat, waiting. You climbed into the car, settling into the back, watching the city blur past as he pulled away. The silence stretched just long enough before you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

Butcher snorted. “Like you give a fuck.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I do give a fuck.”

He glanced at you in the rearview, lips twitching in something almost amused. “Yeah, well. Ain’t dead yet, so I s’pose I’m alright.”

You huffed a laugh, fingers drumming absently against your thigh before you glanced at him again. “What exactly is your job?”

That earned you a raised brow.

“My job?” He echoed, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded, watching as he rolled the thought around in his head before giving a gruff, nonchalant shrug.

“Eh,” he muttered. “’M kinda like Ben’s assistant.”

Your brow furrowed. “Assistant?”

Butcher smirked, shaking his head. “Well, that’s the posh way of sayin’ it.”

You snorted, amused and intrigued, watching him as the car weaved through the city, each answer leading to more questions, each detail peeling back another layer.

You shifted in your seat, watching the cityscape blur past in a wash of headlights and neon. The weight of the day sat low in your limbs, the lingering haze of routine blending into something less familiar, less structured.

The car was silent except for the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional clink of Butcher’s rings against the steering wheel as he shifted his grip. His gaze stayed forward, focused, but you could feel his presence as easily as if he were staring straight at you.

You cleared your throat. “Hey—thank you.”

Butcher didn’t react right away, just quirked a brow, flicking his eyes toward the rearview mirror for a split second before looking back at the road. “For what?”

You shrugged, resting your temple against the window. “First of all, for picking me up from the apartment.”

He snorted, shaking his head like it was the bare fucking minimum.

“And,” you added after a pause, something clicking in your head, “for finding the apartment.”

At that, Butcher let out a low, amused exhale. His mouth pulled into something almost smug, but he didn’t say anything, just kept driving.

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Ben chose it, but you found it.”

“Yeah, well.” He shifted slightly in his seat, rolling his shoulders. “Gotta make sure you’ve got a roof over your head, don’t I?”

There was something unspoken in that. Something heavy, something you weren’t ready to unpack yet. You let it sit for a moment, your fingers drumming absently against your knee, before swallowing and speaking again.

“And… for the Plan B last weekend.”

That made Butcher snort. Loud. Like he genuinely found that funny.

You immediately regretted saying it. Heat flashed up your neck, and you turned toward the window, cursing yourself internally.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “He said you were a shy one. You really are, ain't ya?”

You grumbled something under your breath, shifting in your seat. “I just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Butcher cut in, still amused, still shaking his head. He let the moment breathe for a second before glancing at you again. “You’re gonna have to work on that, y’know.”

That caught you off guard.

Your brows furrowed, head tipping slightly. “On what?”

Butcher sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He waved a hand, his rings catching in the dim light. “The whole bloody embarrassed about everythin' bit.”

Your frown deepened, stomach flipping in something that wasn’t quite discomfort, wasn’t quite intrigue. “Why?”

He let out a gruff, knowing chuckle, shaking his head. “If you plan on keepin’ Ben, love, you’re gonna be flaunted about. You’ll be fuckin' exhausted if you’re constantly blushin’ over every little thing.”

You stiffened slightly, fingers tightening on your knee. “What do you mean?”

Butcher didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just exhaled through his nose, something deeply amused and vaguely pitying flickering across his face before he waved another hand.

“Nothing,” he muttered, voice low, dismissive, but still loaded as fuck. “Just sayin’—best get used to eyes bein’ on you.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t quite know why. Didn’t quite know what he was really saying.

Not yet.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @kayleighwinchester @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove <3

#pfiahc writes #my writing #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x you #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy au #soldier boy fic #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys au #the boys smut #the boys x you #the boys x female reader #the boys x reader

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eebie · 2 years ago

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theway you can briefly hear the two note motif that reoccurs repeatedly when miguel is explaining the canon to miles (E4 to D4) in the score for Spot Holes 1 ………… aoiugghh.. daniel pemberton in his reddit ama said there were little “”easter eggs”” all throughoutthe film soundtrack that connect elements of the story … i think about that so hard and of all the implications ….

ik in beyond rhe spiderverse some INSANE shit is going to go down in the holes dimension . ……

#like how uncle aaron’s last words to miles and Rio giving her whole speech 2 them are both accompanied by the same motif #as defining moments that literally lay out miles’ entire journey in both respective movies #the first of miles coming into his own as spiderman ‘you’re on your way Just keep going’#and the second following his own path and never letting ‘anyone tell him that he doesn't belong’ where he wants to go #the third movie no doubt will have another conversation between miles and someone else like the last two #since miles already overcame that opposition from the spider society #i’m just on the edge of my seat wondering who it’ll be with #uncle aaron again maybe..? tha part where miles said his uncle didn’t know he had a choice in being good absolutely ties back to spot #and the third movie will heavily involve miles ‘trying to do right bypeople he feels like he’s wronged’ said by one of the writers ……#idk how long miles will end up being in earth 42 though . they Did foreshadow at the end something was going to go down w the sinister six #i think anyways #could’ve also just been an easter egg to mention them #they/them’d miles in the first tags…??? not sure why i did that #it’s hard to see wjst im typin on mobile😪#my rambles

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timeforsomeimprovising · 6 months ago

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Just relistened to No Longer You after hearing the Ithaca Saga and guys. the way this song foreshadows the rest of the musical is so INCREDIBLY genius. So first up we have the chorus, which has a whole bunch of lil easter eggs:

“I see a song of past romance” - refers to the sirens, and how they showed the romance between Ody and Penelope before Odysseus went off to war

“I see the sacrifice of man”- literally, men being sacrificed- I'm assuming this refers to Odysseus sacrificing his crew to Scylla so that the rest could get home.

“I see portrayals of betrayal, and a brothers final stand”-Odysseus betraying his men, and then them betraying him, and him betraying them again, leading to the final stand of Eurylocus, his figurative brother, yes, but also his literal brother in law

“I see you on the brink of death”- this could refer to several points in the musical, but I like to believe that it refers to the literal brink of death-Odysseus standing on the edge of a cliff, haunted by his demons, as Calypso begs him not to jump.

“I see you draw your final breath”-this one’s tricky, but I like to think it refers to when Odysseus was slammed into the sea by Poseidon's trident in Get In The Water. He was going to die, but was able to push forward by remembering all those he had lost-he drew his final breath, and then kept going.

“I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you.”-Odysseus DOES make it home, but is forever changed by what he had to do to get there. He believes he’s not the same person as when he left, but Penelope proves to him he’s still her husband, she still loves him, and would fall in love with him over and over again no matter what he’s done or how long it’s been.

the background choir also has some really cool lyrics-“sirens song” “Scylla’s throat” “Mutiny” “lightning bolt” “Blood of Poseidon” “kill all the suitors for love”-although a bit harder to make out, these are super interesting too :D

sorry for the long post! these are just my thoughts, if yall think differently feel free to share :)

edit: I have been informed it is “fight Poseidon”, not “blood of Poseidon” :)

#epic the musical #epic the ithaca saga #epic odysseus #epic the underworld saga #ramblings #jorge rivera herrans #epic tiresias

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jungkoode · 5 months ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 09

˗ˏˋ rules ˎˊ˗

"Rules are funny things. You make them thinking they'll keep you safe, keep everything contained. But sometimes the person you're really trying to protect yourself from… is you"

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 6.5k

content: candle shop shenanigans, friend group dynamics, rules and boundaries

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY FIRST OF ALL—who absolutely LOVES Yeji? Because ME. The way she clocked Jungkook within seconds and had NO filter??? Like, I'm obsessed. Mans was genuinely SHOCKED that someone told him to sit his ass down. The audacity of this woman to not immediately melt under his smirky, tattooed menace energy?? I respect her so much. A feminist icon, if you will.

And IRYA. Ughhh, my precious girlie. The way she’s just casually vibing with Jungkook? Like?? They are NOTHING alike, and yet she’s over here just mingling with him, being friendly, unbothered, meanwhile Yeji is foaming at the mouth in the background. I love that contrast so much. It’s like, she doesn’t see him as a threat, just another guy in the room, which makes Jungkook (who is used to either being hated or obsessed over) lowkey confused. You can see the gears turning in his head like “Wait. Why aren’t you scared of me. Or pissed at me. Or flirting with me.” HAHAH POOR BOY.

And let’s talk about Jimin, because HELLO, my quiet support KING. He’s not even saying much in this chapter, but he’s there, next to Y/N, just in case. That kind of silent loyalty? The “I know you can handle yourself, but if you need me, I’m already here” type of presence??? I eat that up every time. Their friend group is everything to me.

Speaking of menace behavior—Jungkook. Are we surprised? He’s so unserious about everything. I loved giving him Kuko as a contact name for Y/N because in every fic, it’s always Kook or Kookie or Koo and I just—I wanted something different. Something slightly sharp and weird. Like, why does it sound like a pet name and an insult at the same time 😭😭 It’s PERFECT for their dynamic.

And finally, Y/N. My messy, mouthy, disaster baby. She is THEE representation of someone who’s barely entered adulthood, fresh into uni, kind of immature, kind of figuring it out, but loud as hell about it. Like, I KNOW some of y’all are probably reading this chapter thinking “girl, seriously??” but THAT'S THE POINT. She’s got so much personality, she’s a walking contradiction, she’s flawed, but she’s HER. I love her for it.

I also stuffed this chapter with SO many Easter eggs. Like, the foreshadowing is right there at the end, but I know y’all aren’t catching everything yet. You’ll come back later, reread it, and be like “OH MY GOD, KIKI???” And I’ll just be sitting here like 😌✌️ I love when a plan comes together.

Anyway, here’s Chapter 9, babes. Enjoy the mess. I’m off to go prep for my therapist session because, let’s be real, I probably projected a little too hard in this one LMAO.

⋆｡°✩ read on ✩°｡⋆

ao3

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You don't know why you agreed to go shopping with Yeji.

She texted at ass o'clock in the morning about "needing your expert opinion," and honestly? Your sleep-deprived brain just went sure, whatever without processing the implications. You just mentioned having to buy something for Emma — her birthday's in two weeks — and it was downhill from there.

"This place smells like a Pinterest board threw up," Yeji announces as you enter the third candle store of the day. Some fancy boutique with mason jars everywhere and prices that make you want to cry. "Who names a candle Whispers of Moonlight?"

"Someone getting paid way too much," you mutter, checking the price tag. Jesus. "Forty dollars for—is this supposed to smell like grass?"

"Rich people grass." Yeji picks up another one, face scrunching. "Autumn's Last Kiss. What does that even mean? Like, trees making out?"

"Pretty sure it's just pumpkin spice trying to be fancy."

"Capitalism is wild." She moves down the aisle, combat boots squeaking against the polished floor. "Oh shit, look at this one. Midnight Jasmine's Secret Rendezvous. That's not a candle, that's a Mills & Boon novel."

You snort, trailing after her. "Speaking of reading material—"

"We are not starting a book club book chat right now."

"I'm just saying, if you actually showed up to Victorian Lit—"

"And listen to Professor Stevens cream himself over Dickens for two hours? Pass." She picks up another candle, this one in black glass. "Dark Temptation. Bet you five bucks it smells like axe body spray."

She's not wrong. You wrinkle your nose as she waves it under your face. "Why does everything 'dark' and 'masculine' smell like a frat house?"

"Because the straights are not okay." Yeji sets it back, wiping her hands on her jeans like the scent might be contagious. "What did Emma say she likes again?"

"Anything except roses." You pause at a display of seasonal scents. "Her roommate burns those generic rose ones from the dollar store. Pretty sure she's traumatized."

"Valid." Yeji's already moved on to the next shelf, picking up random ones and reading their names in increasingly dramatic voices. "Summer's Sweet Embrace. Woodland Mystery. Oh my god, Bachelor's Button? What the fuck is a bachelor's button?"

"It's a flower," you say, distracted by a actually nice-looking sage and cedar one. Still overpriced, but... "My mom used to grow them."

"Sounds fake, but okay."

She’s quiet for a second. Then:

"What about this one?" Yeji holds up a purple candle, squinting at the label. "Lavender Dreams. Sounds pretentious as fuck."

"Put that down before you break it," you mutter, scanning the shelves. The prices are criminal. “And aren't you supposed to be in Art History right now?"

"Professor Wang's doing that thing again where he talks about his divorce for two hours." She shrugs, setting the candle back with surprising care. "I've already heard all about Karen three times this semester."

You roll your eyes, picking up a sage-scented one. And no, you're not lingering in the candle section because you love them, okay? Emma likes candles too. It's completely reasonable research for a birthday gift. Nothing to do with how your apartment could use some—

"These are boring anyway," Yeji declares, already moving on. Her attention snaps to something across the street. Barnes & Noble, its windows displaying the latest bestsellers.

"Wanna check out some books?" she asks, hands stuffed in the pockets of her worn-out grey zip-up. The one she definitely stole from Irya's closet.

"Since when do you read?" You snort, following her out of the candle store. Because you know damn well Yeji's idea of "reading" is skimming SparkNotes twenty minutes before class.

"Woah, judging a book by its cover?" She gestures to her whole aesthetic: combat boots, ripped jeans, that stolen sweater. "Just 'cause I look like this doesn't mean I don't read."

"You told me last week that Romeo and Juliet was, and I quote, 'straight people nonsense.'"

"It is straight people nonsense." She pushes open the bookstore's door, a blast of air conditioning hitting you. "But we need books for the club."

"You mean the chat group you named 'Fuck The Patriarchy Book Club' that's basically just for rambling and complaining?" Like how you ended up here today, victim to Yeji's class-skipping schemes. "That club?"

"Yeah?" She flashes that smile that you’re starting to associate with trouble. "C'mon, I need to check if they have Pride and Prejudice."

You trail after her into Fiction & Literature, past towering shelves and that distinct bookstore smell. "Pride and—hold up. Weren't you just shitting on romance classics?"

"Yeah, and?" She's already scanning the 'A' section with laser focus. "My girl wants to read it, so we're reading it."

"You're buying it because Irya mentioned it once in the group chat."

"And?" Yeji doesn't even pretend to deny it, moving purposefully through the aisles. "My girlfriend has taste. Unlike some people who waste their time reading..." she picks up a random book, "The Art of Corporate Finance."

"That's not even—"

"Found it!" She pulls out a leather-bound edition, definitely not the cheapest version available. "Look at this fancy shit. Irya's gonna love it."

You're about to point out how whipped she is when something catches your eye. A "Now Hiring" sign at the front counter, clean white letters against dark wood. Huh. You've been meaning to look for a job, something to get you out of the apartment more. And to help your finances. too. God knows you’d rather avoid having to ask mom and daddy for more money.

"Earth to Y/N?" Yeji waves a hand in front of your face. "You good?"

"Yeah, just..." You gesture vaguely at the sign.

Working at a bookstore wouldn't be the worst thing. Plus, employee discount.

"Oh shit, you should totally apply." She examines the sign with newfound interest. "Then you can hook me up with discounts on all the books Irya wants."

"I haven't even—"

"Excuse me?" she calls to a passing employee, ignoring your attempt to shut her up. "My friend here wants to apply for the job opening."

You're going to kill her. Slowly. With one of these hardcover books.

But the employee's already turning around—young guy, probably another student, name tag reading 'Mark'—and you can't exactly bolt without looking insane. Perfect. Just perfect.

"Oh, yeah?" Mark brightens. "We're actually pretty desperate for people who can work weekday afternoons. You have any retail experience?"

"I—"

"She's great with books," Yeji cuts in, because apparently she's your agent now. "Like, literally will fight someone over their trash literary takes. You should hear her rant about Hemingway."

You shoot her a death glare, but... well, she's not wrong about Hemingway.

"That's actually perfect," Mark says. "We get a lot of students asking for recommendations. Here—" He heads to the counter, returning with an application form. "You can fill this out now if you want. Manager's still here."

And somehow, because the universe hates you, you end up at one of the reading tables, filling out your work history while Yeji "helps" by suggesting you list your special skills as "roasting bad authors" and "setting pretentious men straight about their Joyce opinions."

Your phone buzzes. Group chat.

6B Hell

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜? 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚗

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟻𝚝𝚑

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚝𝚑𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚗

You're about to reply that you'll grab some later when another message pops up.

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

What the actual fuck?

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚌

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

You let out a disbelieving sound. Yeji, who's been "helping" by pointing out every minor spelling mistake in your application, peers over your shoulder.

"What's up?"

"My roommate being a jerk as usual." You know for a fact Jungkook's probably sprawled on the couch right now, doing fuck-all except maybe killing brain cells on his PlayStation. But sure, you should get the coffee.

You: 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

You: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘, 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚊𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚝

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎?

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard. That asshole.

You: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗?

You: 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝…

You: 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎?

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚈/𝙽.

Something about Yoongi’s message makes you pause. That's... weird. But before you can think about it:

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 :)

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?

"I'm assuming he means video games," Yeji says, still reading. "Not the fun kind of grinding."

You elbow her in the ribs.

You: 𝚔 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

You: 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘

You: 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎? :)

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚗𝚊𝚑 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡? ;)

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 :)

You're going to murder him. You're actually going to commit homicide, and Yoongi's going to have to find a new roommate, and you know what? He'll probably thank you.

You: 𝚛𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕

You: :)

"So," Yeji says as you aggressively save his number under 'Kuko🖕🏻', "this is fun."

"I hate him so much."

"Uh-huh." She glances at your phone, where he's still sending coffee emoji spam. "You know what this means though, right?"

"That I need better roommates?"

"That you're definitely getting this job." She taps the half-completed application. "Can't spend all your time at the apartment if you're working retail hours."

She... might have a point.

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚢

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚈/𝙽, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚎,𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Your phone buzzes again, but this time it's the other group chat. Thank fuck.

Fuck The Patriarchy Book Club 📚

Irya 🌸: 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜?

Irya 🌸: 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

Jin ☕️: 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

Jin ☕️: 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜.

Jin ☕️: 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝟻𝟶𝚔𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝟻.

Jin ☕️: 𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎.

Your phone keeps vibrating with notifications from the other chat. You peek at it.

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Jesus fucking Christ.

Yeji 🖤: 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚢/𝚗’𝚜?

Yeji 🖤: 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

Your head snaps up. "Excuse me?"

"What?" Yeji doesn't even look guilty. "You keep complaining about him, might as well know what we’re working with here."

You: 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Irya 🌸: 𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚜!! 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗??

Irya 🌸: 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗

Irya 🌸: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎?

You let out a loud sigh, now considering Irya’s question. Because part of you thinks about bringing unwanted guests to the apartment, about how that could disturb the peace, especially for Yoongi.

But also? Also, Jungkook brought his friends last time. No warning, no group chat message to let you know you’d meeting random dudes in your pokemon PJs.

So he can suck it, honestly.

You: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎

You: 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘

Jin ☕️: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙹𝚘𝚎’𝚜.

Jin ☕️: 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎.

Jin ☕️: 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗.

Another cascade of coffee emojis floods your notifications. You switch back to the apartment chat.

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚡

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝟿𝟶% 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚎

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

You hit mute so fast you nearly crack your screen.

You: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎

You: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚈𝙾𝚄’𝚁𝙴 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚓𝚒

Yeji 🖤: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘 𝚗𝚘

Yeji 🖤: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝟻𝟶 𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔

Yeji 🖤: 𝚒𝚖 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎

Irya 🌸: 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔? 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎? 👀

Irya 🌸: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔?!?!?! 💘

Jin ☕️: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Jin ☕️: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜.

Yeji 🖤: 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢

Yeji 🖤: 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜

"So," Yeji says, watching you aggressively fill out the availability section of your application. "Should we warn your roommate about pizza night or...?"

You think about the endless coffee emojis. About how he's probably still spamming them, the notifications piling up in your muted chat.

"Nope."

She grins. "Chaos it is."

You make it to your apartment after what feels like the longest trek ever, juggling the coffee capsules bag and your dignity. And no, you didn't buy them because of him, okay? You bought them because Yoongi deserves his caffeine fix. Yoongi, who actually helped you carry boxes up flights of stairs when you moved in. Yoongi, who warns you when the hot water's acting up. Yoongi, who—unlike some people—doesn't blast music at 3AM.

"Still can't believe you actually bought them," Yeji says for the fifth time, trailing behind you up the stairs. "Like, you're really just gonna enable his bratty ass?"

"They're not for him." You dig through your bag for your keys. "I got the regular ones for Yoongi. The vanilla ones are mine."

"Uh-huh." She's got that look again. "And you got the vanilla ones because...?"

"Because I like vanilla coffee." Your keys jangle aggressively as you search. "Not everything is about him."

"I offered to spike them," she reminds everyone, way too loudly for a hallway. "Could've made it look factory-sealed and everything."

Jimin looks slightly concerned. "Do I want to know why you know how to do that?"

"Probably not," Irya says cheerfully. "But that's why I love her."

You finally locate your keys, jamming them into the lock. It sticks—because of course it does, these old-ass doors—and you have to do that weird wiggle thing to get it open. "The last thing I need is a lawsuit for attempted murder by coffee."

"It wouldn't kill him," Yeji argues. "Just, you know. Mild poisoning. Character building."

"Pretty sure that's still illegal," Jimin says.

"Only if you get caught."

The door finally gives, swinging open to reveal... nobody. The living room's empty, thank fuck. No sign of Yoongi or—more importantly—no sign of him. Maybe they're both out. Maybe you'll actually get through this pizza night without any—

"Yo, this is actually nice," Yeji says, already making herself at home on the couch. "When you said 'bros' cave' I was expecting, like, beer pong tables and stolen street signs."

"Those are in Jungkook's room," you mutter, dropping the coffee bag on the kitchen counter. Not that you've seen his room. You haven't. Obviously.

Irya's examining the vinyl collection by the TV. "These are good albums. Your roommates have taste."

"Those are Yoongi's." Probably. You're like 90% sure they're Yoongi's. You've never actually asked.

"The place is surprisingly clean," Jimin notes, still hovering politely by the door. "Need help with anything?"

"Nah, just—" You pause as something orange streaks past. "Oh, shit, wait—Griffin, no—"

Too late. Your cat roommate's already winding between Jimin's legs, purring like the attention whore he is.

"You have a cat?" Irya drops to her knees immediately. "Oh my god, he's gorgeous."

"He's not mine." You dump your bag on the counter. "He's Jungkook's emotional support menace."

"Like owner, like cat," Yeji says, watching Griffin charm his way into Jimin's arms.

"True." You roll your eyes. "Demanding, dramatic, and constantly in the way."

Griffin headbutts Jimin's shin, purring louder.

"Should I..." He looks uncertain. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, he does that." You start unpacking the coffee capsules. “He's harmless. Just attention-starved and thinks he owns the place."

"Again," Yeji says, "like owner, like cat."

"Pretty much.”

"At least the cat's cute." She stretches out on the couch, combat boots definitely leaving marks. "Makes up for the personality."

"Tragic how the genes weren't distributed evenly," you mutter, strategizing about how to arrange the coffee capsules in the cabinet. Normal ones for Yoongi, vanilla ones hidden in the back where grabby hands can't reach them.

Irya's still on the floor with Griffin, who's now rolled onto his back. "I don't know, he seems sweet."

"The cat? Yeah." You slam the cabinet open. "The owner? Walking nightmare."

"Speaking of nightmares." Jimin's still by the door, ever polite. "Should we maybe warn him we're having pizza here? Since it's his apartment too..."

You think about the forty-seven coffee emojis still sitting in your muted notifications.

"Nope."

"Absolutely not," Yeji agrees. "He can deal with it like she dealt with having his dudebro friends over last week."

Irya looks up from scratching Griffin's belly. "Oh yeah, didn't you say you ran into them in your—what was it?"

"Pokemon pajamas," you groan. "Look, they were clean, okay? And it was like, Saturday morning. Who has people over at Saturday morning?"

"Douchebags," Yeji supplies helpfully.

You're about to agree when you hear it. A door opening down the hall. Footsteps.

Of-fucking-course.

"You bought the coffee, phoenix?"

The drawl comes from behind you, and you briefly consider whether jail time for murder would really be that bad. Jungkook's leaning against his doorframe in—are those fucking Sonic pajama pants?—looking like he just rolled out of bed. At 7PM. Because of course he did.

"Nice little reunion you got going on here, by the way."

He yawns, running a hand through his messy hair as he saunters into the kitchen. Like this is totally fine. Like having your friends over without warning isn't exactly what he did last week with Hoseok and Taehyung—who, by the way, apparently has keys to your fucking apartment.

You pointedly ignore him, which would work better if he wasn't literally heading straight for you. He reaches around you to rummage through the shopping bags, and you slap his hands away.

“Get out of my stuff."

"Oh," he pulls out the vanilla capsules before you can stop him, "you actually got me the vanilla ones?"

"They're not for you." You snatch them back. "Get your hands off them."

He grabs for them again. "Pretty sure you bought them because—"

"I bought them for me." You yank them away, but he's already going for the other bag. "Oh my god, can you not—"

"So this is the pain in the ass?" Yeji's voice drips with disdain from the couch.

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, still trying to get his hands on your shopping. "Who's Cruella de Vil over there?"

You elbow him away from the bags. "None of your—"

"Another candle?" He snatches it up, holding it over his head where you can't reach. Dick. "Seriously? After last time?"

"If you'd stop making everything smell like balls and nachos—" You jump for it, but he just stretches higher, "—I wouldn't have to buy them, Rogue."

"I don't smell like—"

"Wait," Irya interrupts, and you catch her hiding a smile behind her hand. "Phoenix?"

"Rogue?" Jimin adds quietly from his corner, looking between you back and forth.

Jungkook's smirk widens as he finally lets you grab the candle back. "Oh, she hasn't told you that story?"

"We are not discussing this again." You shove the candle in its bag. "Ever."

"Why not? It's hilarious." He's fully grinning now, leaning his hip against the counter like he owns it. "Haven't told them about how you almost set the place on fire your first week here?"

"BECAUSE YOU ENTERED THE HOUSE LIKE A FUCKING—" Your hand's fisted in his t-shirt before you can stop yourself, and he's snickering, the absolute dick. "Like a complete psychopath," you finish through gritted teeth.

"The lock sticks!" He's still laughing. "I told you, it's an old door—"

"You didn't have to shoulder it open like the SWAT team!"

"You dropped a lit match!"

"Because you scared the shit out of me!"

"Ugh," Yeji groans. "Is he always like this?"

"Worse," you mutter, finally releasing his shirt. "Usually he's too busy being edgy in his room with his electric guitar."

Irya's definitely smirking now. Jimin looks like he wants to disappear into the wall.

"Whatever, phoenix." He makes another grab for the vanilla capsules. "Rising from the ashes of your attempted arson."

"That's not—" You smack his hand away. "That's not why you started calling me that and you know it."

"Pretty sure it is."

"Pretty sure you're full of shit."

Griffin chooses this moment to abandon Irya and wind between Jungkook's legs, the little traitor. Jungkook immediately scoops him up, and you pretend not to notice how the cat starts purring instantly.

"See?" He scratches under Griffin's chin. "G knows I'm right."

"G's a whore for attention." You start shoving the shopping bags away. "He'd side with Satan if Satan had treats."

"So that's why he likes you."

"You calling me Satan now? Wasn't it phoenix? Pick your poison, dumbass."

"Nah." He's still petting Griffin, who's practically melting in his arms. "Just saying you're both dramatic as fuck."

"Says the guy who kicked down a door over a—"

"The lock was stuck!"

"Yeah? Like your head up your ass?"

“Do you two always do this?” Irya prompts.

"No," you mutter, yanking the coffee bag away as he tries to sneak another grab at it. "When he's not gaming like a twelve-year-old, he's—stop touching my stuff!"

"Just checking what flavor you got," he says innocently, which might work better if he wasn't actively trying to steal the vanilla capsules. "Since you bought them for me and all—"

"I will actually murder you."

"With what? Another candle?"

"Keep talking and find out."

"Children," Yeji interrupts, looking physically pained. "Can we not?"

But Jungkook's already reaching for the bag again, and you swat his hand away. "I swear to god—"

"What? I'm just being neighborly—"

"You're being a pain in the ass—"

"Aw, you noticed?"

"Hard not to when you're—" You break off as he successfully snags a vanilla capsule. "Give that back."

"Make me."

"What are you, five?"

"Says the one hoarding coffee—"

"It's my coffee—"

"Pretty sure you bought it with daddy's credit card—"

The words hit like a slap and before you can think better of it, you snarl, "Fuck you."

Your eyes widen the second it leaves your mouth because you know that look on his face, that slight quirk of his lips, the way he's already—

You slam your hand over his mouth so fast you practically punch him, fingers digging into his jaw. He makes a muffled sound of protest, but you can feel him grinning under your palm, the absolute dick.

"Don't," you hiss. "Don't you fucking dare."

He raises his eyebrows like who, me? but you can feel him trying not to laugh.

"Okay!" Jimin claps his hands together, looking slightly alarmed. "So, pizza? Anyone want to look at the menu?”

“Oooh, that sounds promising.” Jungkook says, yanking your hand away.

"Can't you leave?" You eye him. "Go jack yourself off while you look in the mirror or something. Maybe play your fucking guitar."

"Huhhh?" He's already propping his elbows on the back of the sofa, leaning over the narrow table that ‘separates’ the kitchen from the living room. "I want pizza too. Plus, your friends look nice." His smile is all teeth. "I'm sure they don't mind."

Jimin materializes next to you in the kitchen like some kind of conflict-sensing angel, pretending to be interested in the coffee maker. You know he's checking if you're okay, which would be sweet if you weren't currently fantasizing about drowning Jungkook in vanilla coffee.

"I mind," Yeji announces flatly.

"No problem!" Irya chirps at the same time.

Yeji shoots her girlfriend an exasperated look, but Irya just settles more comfortably against her side. You're going to kill both of them.

"Who's the pink pony over here?" Jungkook nods at Irya, and you see Yeji's arm tighten around her shoulders, hackles practically visible.

"Touch her and die."

"Aww, babe." Irya pats Yeji's thigh. "I'm Irya, and this little black cat over here is my girlfriend Yeji." She points across the room. "That's Jimin."

Jungkook glances back at where you're now aggressively reorganizing coffee capsules, Jimin hovering uncertainly beside you. There's something in his expression you don't like, mouth opening to say god knows what—

"And the third roommate?" Yeji cuts in.

You're about to answer but Jungkook beats you to it. "Yoongi's not here."

"Working late," you add, just to be contrary. "You know, like an actual adult with a job?"

"Unlike some people," Yeji mutters.

You snort at her commentary, and you tune out Jungkook’s comeback. Instead your eyes flicker to Jimin, who’s scrolling through his phone, probably looking at pizza options, when—

"Yo Jim, come here." Jungkook waves him over. "Let me look at the menu."

You grab Jimin's arm before he can move, linking it with yours. "I'm choosing first, wait your damn turn."

Jungkook rises from the sofa with a click of his tongue. "Come on, I just wanna—"

"Did she fucking stutter?" Yeji snaps, and Jungkook actually blinks, like he's not used to being shut down that fast.

You turn back to Jimin's phone with maybe a bit too much satisfaction. "Okay, so what are we thinking?"

"They have this new quattro formaggi that's supposed to be good." Jimin tilts the screen so you can see better. "Or the classic margherita—"

"Boring," you mutter, scrolling past. "Oh, what about the spicy one? With the—"

"The calabrese?" He zooms in on the description. "Spicy salami, fresh basil..."

"That looks good." You're actually getting hungry now. "Maybe we could—"

A shadow falls over the phone as Jungkook appears in front of you like some kind of pizza-seeking missile. He peers over both your lowered heads, close enough that you can feel the heat from his chest, and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

"Have you two decided?" His breath hits your ear. "Because I—"

You're about to grab a fistful of his hair and yank him back to a respectable distance when he snatches Jimin's phone right out of his hands.

"What the fuck—" You start to reach for him, but Jimin catches your wrist.

"It's okay," he says quietly. "Don't worry about it."

Jungkook's already scrolling, completely unbothered. "Yo, what do you two want?" He nods at the couch without looking up.

"Hawaiian for me," Irya pipes up cheerfully. "Yeji wants the diavola, extra spicy."

Yeji just grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "men" and turns on the TV.

"Cool, cool." Jungkook's still scrolling. "Phoenix, you getting the calabrese?"

"None of your business."

"Just trying to make sure we don't order the same thing." He glances up with that insufferable smirk. "Unless you want to share?"

"I'd rather eat glass."

"Okay, so that's a no on sharing." He's still scrolling through Jimin's phone like he owns it. "I'm thinking meat lovers."

"Of course you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're basic as fuck."

"Says the one getting—" he squints at the screen "—spicy calabrese, like some—"

"Can you two shut up for five minutes?" Yeji snaps from the couch. "Some of us are trying to hear the TV."

"My bad," Jungkook says, not sounding sorry at all. He hands Jimin's phone back—finally—and stretches. "Alright, four pizzas ordered. Now we wait."

You watch him sprawl onto the armchair—the one he keeps arguing it’s his (it’s not?)—like he belongs there, and something about it sets your teeth on edge. The casual way he's inserted himself into your evening, how he's somehow charmed Irya into actual conversation, how he keeps looking at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

"Whatever, man." You push away from the counter, desperate to get away from his presence for at least two minutes. "I'm gonna get into my PJs, I'll be back."

You head down the hall, your skin prickling like he's watching you go. Which he's not. Obviously. You're just on edge because he's being more insufferable than usual, getting all cozy with your friends like he has any right to—

"Yo, phoenix, wait." Jungkook's voice stops you. "Remember that thing with the landlord? The, uh, maintenance form?"

"What maintenance form?"

"You mentioned to Yoongi about the lock sticking, right?" He's already moving towards you with that easy confidence that makes you want to punch him. "Super's been bitching about proper documentation. Needs your signature since it's your door."

He keeps talking as he approaches, something about liability and repair schedules, and it sounds legitimate enough that you almost miss how he's gradually crowding your space. Almost miss how each step brings him closer until—

He reaches past you, hand brushing your hip as he turns the handle. The door barely has time to click shut before Jungkook’s on you, his whole body crowding into yours, ushering you backward so fast you stumble. Almost fall.

“Jesus—”

Your balance tips, but before you can catch yourself, his hands are already on you—grabbing, steadying, possessive. A solid chest against yours, broad palms locking around your wrists before you can shove him away.

He grins down at you, smirky, flushed, pupils blown. That lazy, cocky amusement dripping from his expression like he planned this. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Relax, Phoenix.” His grip tightens, pulling your wrists just slightly apart. “You’re fine.”

And then his mouth crashes onto yours.

Hard. Messy. Zero warning, zero hesitation. Just heat and teeth and tongue, urgent like he needs to shut you up.

You match him instantly, kissing back just as fiercely, nails curling into his shirt, yanking him closer. His hair is soft under your fingers, thick and dangerous, and you tug—just the way he likes it. Just the way that always makes him groan, makes him grab.

Which he does. Both hands drop to your ass, full palms, fingers digging in like he can’t help himself. A rough squeeze that pulls a breathy sound from your throat before you can stop it.

He chuckles, low and wrecked against your lips, hips rolling slow and deliberate against yours.

“Fuck—” Another squeeze, his voice dropping. “You get all mouthy with me, and then you act surprised when you turn me on?”

Your stomach flips.

His mouth is still moving against yours, sharp and demanding, and fuck—you’re dizzy, heat curling low and deep.

You don’t realize he’s backing you up until your spine collides with the wardrobe.

You wince. “God, fuck—”

Jungkook barely lets you finish before his teeth graze your jaw, lips dragging lower—

No.

You shove at his chest, breath coming fast. “What is your problem?”

His smirk is instant, panting slightly, lips wrecked. The fucking look in his eyes—smoky, half-lidded, shamelessly pleased with himself.

“Mm?” He tilts his head, like he didn’t just grope the hell out of you. “What?”

“You can’t—” A sharp inhale. You straighten your shirt, glare sharp enough to cut. “My friends are here.”

He blinks. Shrugs. "So?"

"So," you bite out, "we are not doing this."

Jungkook just looks at you, like you’re speaking a foreign language. "Doing what?"

"Don't." You level him with a flat stare.

His head tilts, gaze dragging over you, slow and deliberate. "I just wanted to talk."

"Talk," you repeat, incredulous.

"Yeah." He plants a hand on the wardrobe beside your head. Not caging you in—just existing in your space, like he belongs there. "Privately."

Jesus fuck.

"Nope." You press your palms to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through cotton. "Not happening."

"Phoenix." His voice dips, lazy and smooth, like he’s humoring you. "I'll be quick."

A disbelieving scoff. "Absolutely the fuck not."

He laughs, quiet and amused, like this is funny to him.

Of course it is. Of course it is. ��

You shove at his chest again. "They don’t know about this, and they’re not going to know about this."

His brows pull together, expression open, genuinely confused. "Why?"

Oh, you could kill him.

"Because," you grind out, "I don't need them speculating."

"Speculating about what?"

"About us, dumbass!"

The words land—and then he snorts. He just, snorts. Like you just told him a funny joke he lowkey doesn’t want to laugh at.

"Oh, fuck off," you snap.

His grin lingers. "Nix. We fuck. That’s it. No one’s gonna think we’re picking out wedding invitations."

You glare. "You're missing the point."

"I really don't think I am."

"Rogue." You exhale sharply. "I don’t want them in my business, okay?"

He watches you for a beat, head tilted like he’s reading between the lines.

Then he nods. Simple. Easy. "Okay."

You blink. "Okay?"

"Yeah?" He shrugs. "You don’t want them to know, they won’t know. It’s not that deep."

Right. Not that deep.

It shouldn’t be a relief—he’s only agreeing because he doesn’t care—but your shoulders still drop a fraction.

"Good," you say.

He hums, gaze flicking over your face, considering. "I mean, it’s not like you gotta tell them I’m your boyfriend or something. Just that we fuck sometimes. What’s wrong with that?"

You scoff. "Everything is wrong with that, Jungkook."

He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Like—god, where do you start?

Like the fact that this is supposed to be contained, something that stays locked in this apartment and nowhere else. Like the fact that you need to be in control of it because if you’re not, it means it’s spiraling, and spiraling is—

Not an option.

He hums, considering. The vibration shivers over your skin. "Interesting."

The fuck does that mean?

You glare at him. "What?"

"Nothing." But there's a glint in his eye you don't like. Knowing. Assessing. "Just seems like you're overthinking it."

"I'm not—"

"Ashamed?" His head tilts. "Embarrassed?"

Heat crawls up your neck. "Fuck you."

"I mean." A slow drag of his gaze, head to toe and back again. "If you insist..."

Oh my god.

Your foot connects with his shin. Hard. He grunts, flinching back. Good.

"Touch me again," you growl, "and you lose your dick."

He holds up his hands. The picture of innocence. "Message received."

"Is it?" You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. "Because it seems like you're having trouble understanding basic fucking boundaries."

"Nah, I get it." But there's a wicked glint in his eye, and oh, that can't be good. "No telling your friends about all the filthy things we do."

"There is no we.” You jab a finger at his chest. "No us."

A slow nod. "Right."

"I mean it, Rogue." You hold his gaze, unflinching. "This?" A sharp gesture between your bodies. "Doesn't leave this apartment."

"Mm." His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. Deliberate. Obscene. "So I shouldn't mention how you like it when I—"

Your hand clamps over his mouth, muffling his words. "Finish that sentence and die."

He grins against your palm, wholly unrepentant. Bastard.

You drop your hand. Take a step back. "I'm serious, Ry."

"Oh, I know." But there's a curl to his lips you don't trust. Not one bit.

"Do you?" You cross your arms. "Because it sounds like you're angling for a free pass to run your mouth."

"Nah." He mirrors your posture, arms folding over his chest. “Just getting a feel for the rules."

Right. Sure. "The rules are simple." You hold up a finger. "Rule one: no one knows we're fucking."

A nod. "Easy enough."

"Rule two," you continue, "if anyone asks, we're just roommates."

"Uh-huh." His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. Considering. "That all?"

Wariness prickles up your spine. "Why?"

A shrug. Too casual. "No reason."

Bullshit.

You shake your head. "Just—forget it. Are we done here?"

Jungkook watches you for another long second.

Then he nods. "Yeah, we're done."

He turns, already reaching for the doorknob, when—

"Oh." A pause. Like he just remembered something. "And just so we're clear—this isn’t exclusive, right?"

You blink. "What?"

He glances back, expression easy. Casual. "Like, I can fuck other people. That cool with you?"

A laugh bursts out of you. Short. Sharp. "Why the fuck would I care?"

His mouth twitches. "Dunno. Just making sure."

"Well, consider it confirmed." You fold your arms. "Do whatever the fuck you want, just—"

He lifts his brows. "Just?"

"Don’t give me an STD." You level him with a flat look.

He snorts. "Noted." A beat. Then, amused— "You want test results?"

"Oh, fuck off, Rogue."

"Just offering, Phoenix." His smirk lingers for half a second before his expression smooths out. "So, rule number three, then."

You narrow your eyes. "Rule what?"

"Rules." He gestures between you. "One: no one knows. Two: if they ask, we're just roommates." A pause. "Three: no feelings."

Something in his voice shifts, something light but pointed, like he's not saying it just for your benefit.

You scoff. "Yeah, no shit."

He nods once, satisfied. "Cool."

And then he's gone, door clicking shut behind him like the whole thing never happened.

The air in the room is suddenly too thick.

You exhale sharply, back hitting the wardrobe, and press your palms over your face.

God damn him.

Not just for being an insufferable pain in your ass, but for being right. Because logically, there's no reason to keep this a secret—he's not your boyfriend, he's just your roommate who happens to fuck you sometimes. It's not a big deal. It's not anything.

But something in you rebels at the thought of anyone knowing. Of having to explain yourself, to justify your choices. You've had enough of that to last a lifetime, enough of measuring every decision against someone else's expectations. Enough of being told what you should want, what you should do, who you should be.

This thing with Jungkook? It's yours. Messy and stupid and probably a horrible idea, but it's yours. The one thing in your life that nobody gets to have an opinion about, that nobody gets to control but you.

And maybe that's fucked up. Maybe normal people don't feel this desperate need to keep parts of themselves hidden, to maintain this iron grip on every aspect of their lives. Maybe they don't lie awake at night planning escape routes from their own decisions.

But you've never been very good at normal, have you?

You straighten, smooth your shirt, school your face into something neutral.

Then you open the door, step back into the living room, and pretend like your world isn’t tilting.

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