#having a classic 'did i stare at this too long or have i been ugly this whole time' moment so you have to be soooo nicies to me

[ourlordapollo]

Had an absolutely baller time filming cosplay TikToks alone in my living room last night lmao

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Couldn't wait, I had to post it lol. I hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉) Don't forget to leave a comment.

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.417K

Chapter 3

Chapter Two ‘’Forcibles’’

The boy with pure eyes had grown into a tall muscular man with menace in his orbits. ‘’May I?’’ he asked not leaving his gaze from Pyramus, it wasn’t a request, it was an order and Pyramus who was coming from a small house couldn’t say no. Without a word he let go of Y/N, she felt empty. She was about to object, maybe excuse herself to rest but Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen acted quickly, like a snake he placed his hand on the small of her back and held her hand, she had no choice but to place her hand on his tense shoulder. His eyes so blue, ‘’How long has it been?’’ he asked, his boy voice was gone and classical Harkonnen tone made its home. Manly. ‘’I truly don’t remember.’’ She replied with a flat tone, couldn’t do anything but let him lead the dance. It had been only a minute and Y/N had every information she needed;

Predator

Dominant

Show off

His grip was strong, maybe he was sending a clear message to other houses. Y/N didn’t want to care but her Bene Gesserit training made it impossible not to care. ‘’You wound me.’’ He mocked. He was much taller than Pyramus. She had to look up to meet his icy blue gaze. Y/N noticed the looks they got, a Harkonnen is dancing with an Atreides…. Outrageous.

‘’I see you become a witch like your mother.’’ His tongue was a whip, was he trying to get a reaction out of her?

‘’I’ve heard you become a beast.’’ She was quick to answer, she felt the grip on her back tightened. Did she stroke a nerve? Good.

‘’If we were in Giedi Prime I would have your tongue.’’ He was amused and it made her more angry, ‘’Proves my point.’’

She noticed Irulan and Paul’s questioning look, they seemed shocked and concerned for Y/N. She gave them a small smile.

She felt like a black cobra snake swallowing her whole, Feyd-Rautha made sure to press her close to him, he wasn’t gentle like Pyramus, she looked but couldn’t see him, ‘’Looking for someone?’’ he sounded annoyed, Y/N heard how his mood changes quickly and she didn’t have time for an ugly scene. ‘’My friends. I assume you’re not familiar with the concept.’’ She thought maybe detesting Harkonnens were genetic. Feyd laughed hard which attracted stares around them, they were mostly concerned for Y/N Atreides. Up close, for a split second she saw that innocent boy but he disappeared.

The music ended and she excused herself, before she left Na-Baron grabbed her wrist, she turned in shock, what was he doing? He leaned and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, the kiss felt so soft she couldn’t believe it was coming from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. She bowed in courtesy and got away from his grip, she could feel his icy blue orbits on her back, stabbing her.

Irulan came to chat with her, ‘’What was that about?’’ Irulan didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention but she wasn’t the only one who witnessed that. ‘’What do you mean?’’ Y/N asked drinking her champagne, cold liquid made her more relaxed, ‘’Feyd-Rautha ate you with his eyes.’’ Irulan signed with her hands, didn’t want pointy ears to hear. ‘’He is an intense man. That’s all.’’ She signed back.

The night was too long for Y/N’s liking. Since she was a lady she had to stand by her family and talk to other houses about spice, politics, etc. She needed some air.

Y/N chose a balcony at the back, front ones were occupied, she inhaled deeply, her hands on the stone railings, ‘’Here you are.’’ Pyramus’s soft voice made her calm. They hugged, he immediately tried to kiss her but Y/N had to be careful, she moved her head and Pyramus’s thin lips landed on her cheek. He huffed in annoyance, ‘’How long we have to hide in the shadows?’’ he loved to whine. ‘’Soon I shall tell my family.’’ Y/N kept mustering up her courage and loosing it the last minute. It wasn’t going to be easy. Pyramus held her hands, ‘’Be mine, they can’t say anything then.’’

‘’I’m already yours.’’ She was confused,

‘’Be mine… fully.’’ His dark eyes looking for answers. ‘’Oh,’’ Y/N understood. ‘’I don’t know. We should head back.’’ She changed the topic. Before she could leave Pyramus didn’t let go of her hands, ‘’Think about it, please.’’

Y/N Atreides could hear the whispers; ‘’Did you see?’’

‘’Poor girl.’’

‘’They seemed a perfect match, how odd.’’

‘’Na-Baron seems interested…’’

She only held her head high, pretended like she was deaf. Long night came to an end, she felt so tired running from unwanted company, the Harkonnen boy. Her father had to talk to them, Y/N managed to ignore them.

Tossing and turning in her bed with questions in her busy mind she bolted to her feet. The palace was quiet, guests were fast asleep. Y/N wanted to talk to someone, someone who would understand.. she wore her white satin robe and left her bed chamber. Her family were staying at the guest wing, she knew Paul would be awake. Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, glowglobes were on the walls, giving a dim light to the corridors, her Bene Gesserit training made her stop, someone was following her, she calmed her mind.

‘’Why so hasty?’’ a rough voice echoed behind her back. She turned to face the owner of the voice. Feyd-Rautha.

‘’I could ask you the same thing, my Na-Baron.’’ Her heart beat got faster as he approached hands in his back. His manner was predatory, observing his prey. His tunic was thin and loose, ‘’Why are you wandering so late at night, little dove?’’ pet name made her blood rise but she had to keep her calm. ‘’I don’t see why it is-‘’ he was circling her now, ‘’your business.’’ Feyd came to stop in front of her which made her look up to meet his eyes. He liked having the height advantage, he could sense her fear, so delicious. ‘’Witches and their secrets…’’ he leaned and whispered to her face, his breath hot. Y/N wanted to run away and hide from him but something in her told her that no matter what he would find her.

‘’I’m good at revealing secrets.’’ His left hand rose, his forefinger tracing her arm covered in satin, both of them felt the electricity. His eyes travelled on her chest and find their place on her eyes again. ‘’How is Pyramus?’’

Y/N had to be extremely careful, or her house’s honor could be at stake. ‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about Na-baron.’’ Her tone flat yet Feyd noticed her posture change. As if she was going into a trial by combat. Deep down he wondered how would it feel to be loved like this, he could feel the rise of jealousy… a member of an insignificant house could achieve her love so easily? No. he would not allow it. A sinister plan ran in his dark mind.

She wanted to wipe that arrogant smile on his face, ‘’I shall bid you good night.’’ With that she headed back to her room. Whenever she wanted to open up about Pyramus something would stop her…

When the morning came with its shiny sun and fresh smell of flowers she was having breakfast with her family. Padishah Emperor Shaddam made majority of the house leave and announced that after breakfast he would announce his decision.

‘’You seem upset my love, is everything all right?’’ Duke Leto asked gently, she hadn’t touched the food on her golden plate, she looked around, no one but her family. ‘’I’m in love with someone.’’ She unraveled, feeling the years of burden leaving her delicate shoulders. Leto and Paul were smiling but her mother’s face didn’t move a muscle. ‘’Who is the lucky gentleman?’’ Leto asked, ‘’Pyramus, from house-‘’

Jessica cut her short, ‘’That house?! Have you lost your mind?’’ Jessica knew that Reverend Mother had something else planned for Y/N. Bene Gesserit has been working for this union for years. ‘’Let’s not lose our temper.’’ Leto warned Jessica with a calm tone. ‘’They are a small house, it is true. If he is good enough for my daughter he is good enough for us.’’ He finished. ‘’Excuse me.’’ Everyone thought Jessica was leaving in anger but she was about to send a message to Reverend Mother an change the whole course of Y/N’s future.

Harkonnens were having breakfast together, Feyd-Rautha was so fed up with his obese uncle’s eating that he lost his appetite. Rabban was in his normal self, quiet and tense. ‘’I wonder who will be the princess’s husband.’’ Rabban said curiously, was he hoping? Feyd-Rautha was seated away from them, watching them like a hawk. He knew well that Shaddam would never take that risk, to send his one and only daughter to the hellhole called Giedi Prime? Not in a million years. ‘’One way or another he has to satisfy us.’’ Their uncle spoke with full mouth, Feyd had to look away, he could feel his bile coming up to his throat. He drank his wine to suppress. ‘’What do you think uncle?’’ Rabban asked, he kept trying to impress their uncle and failed miserably. Baron’s fat fingers were shiny with the bacon’s juice he was eating, ‘’I believe we won’t leave until we get something.’’

Their Mentat Piter de Vrives knocked on the door and walked in, ‘’My Baron, Emperor is expecting you and your nephews to the throne room.’’

Baron laughed, ‘’We shall be there.’’

The throne room was packed with lords and ladies that remained, including Reverend Mother Helen. Y/N didn’t remember seeing her last night’s ball. Strange. Y/N Atreides and her family arrived early, Padishah Emperor Shaddam spoke with her father Duke Leto in private. Behind the golden throne there was a door which opened to a small room where Shaddam’s office took place. When Duke Leto came back his face held grim, he refused to look at anyone but the Emperor, was that resentment? Emperor was seated on his golden throne which had colorful ornaments, on his right much smaller and silver throne was placed and Irulan was sitting on it. Looking like a statue, she was a strong woman. Reverend Mother was at Shaddam’s left, whispering into his ear. She was covered in black, just like Harkonnens.

Y/N noticed how old Shaddam got, every child at one point in their lives come to the realization of their parents’ old age. Emperor was a second father to her, a sudden whip to her heart she focused her eyes on the floor to prevent herself from crying. In order to keep her racing mind busy she looked around to see the remained houses. Pyramus was right there, she waved at her and Y/N waved back. He had a colorful suit, just like his personality. Pyramus and other low class houses were on the left side of the room, other old and powerful houses were on the right. Everyone watched the way Harkonnens entered, they were the last one to arrive. Baron Vladimir was a man of show off, he loved to show his power given any chance. Baron was at the front, Rabban and Feyd following behind, when Y/N saw Feyd-Rautha, her mind immediately went to last night’s events.

‘’Does he know me and Pyramus?’’ to be the first one to reveal the secret she had to tell it to her family this morning but she wasn’t sure anymore. All day Pyramus was after her asking how they reacted, she felt overwhelmed.

She wanted to be brave so Y/N watched them stand close to Atreides, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t shy of eye contact, as usual he was wearing his black suit, with his boots he looked much taller. Y/N watched him eye her up and down, she was wearing a dark blue dress, her arms and neck covered in dark blue laces, her head was tightly rounded like a ball on her head, a thin silver tiara was placed. She kept her posture high, she wasn’t going to shrink because of a Harkonnen, even though Feyd looked as if he could disintegrate her with his shiny blue eyes.

Shaddam rose to his feet, his regal robe sweeping the floor, ‘’Thank you for waiting so patiently,’’ everyone were focused, eager to hear his decision. ‘’I have decided that it was due time to choose a life partner for my one and only daughter. After last night I have consulted my daughter Irulan and the young gentleman that I choose is,’’ Y/N could feel the tension in the room, she slightly observed the room and Shaddam’s subjects were focused on him but one person. Feyd-Rautha, his snake eyes kept finding Y/N. Why did he look like he knew something that Y/N didn’t?

‘’Paul Atreides, from house Atreides.’’ Applauses could be heard, Y/N got positive energy from them last night so she wasn’t wrong. Irulan was her sister and Paul her brother, she knew that they would make each other happy. Paul walked to princes Irulan to kiss her hand. ‘’The wedding shall happen tomorrow.’’ The applauses died down, ‘’If you have no objections or requests you may be dismissed.’’ Shaddam announced, Y/N couldn’t wait to be left alone with Irulan and listen every detail.

‘’Emperor!’’ a man’s strong voice echoed in the throne room, ‘’I have a request.’’ Y/N turned to see Feyd-Rautha leaving his spot and slowly approaching to stand in the middle of the room, ‘’Come forth young Harkonnen.’’

Y/N had a bad feeling, this whole thing look staged, she turned to see her family’s reaction. Duke Leto, again, trying so hard to avoid her, Lady Jessica smiled at her. Y/N was puzzled, ‘’This is for the best.’’ She signed to her daughter.

Feyd-Rautha did what Shaddam said, before he knelt in front of the Emperor he gave a last look to her.

‘’What is it that you request?’’ Shaddam’s calmness irritated Y/N.

‘’Since you raised her as one of your own it is best to ask your permission,’’ Feyd paused to get more reaction from his spectators, his head was down but after that pause he tilted his head and look into Shaddam’s eyes. Shaddam had never seen such power in a young boy before. Baron did a great job.

‘’I demand Lady Y/N Atreides’s hand in marriage.’’

TAG LIST;

@superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

Thank you for reading. :)

[pressureplus]

Ok ok hear me out.. what if, you did a part two of “Reflection” but the reader finally gets to read Sebastian’s document? And kinda sees how similar they look. It’s kinda dumb because it wouldn’t really much to write about but it’s just a thought 😭

No no, don't apologize. I can work with anything as long as its got 1 sentence or three descriptive words and a vibe! I can easily make you a part two!

Doppelganger

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

At last you purchased that damn document of his. It had sat on his desk almost teasingly out of your hands. A previous attempt to grab it had ended with his hand pressed over the classified file and a smile. His words spoken slow, as though you were stupid, as he explained that you certainly didn’t have enough for that. Now you could finally touch it all you want. A part of you was feeling a bit sassy when you snatched it right off his desk proudly. The thousand data pieces you just sold to him being shuffled away. You ignored that, for the most part, more focused on finally getting your hands around the classified information you’d been curious about. Finally popping open the file to see what it is he’s been leaving on his desk, you’re met with tons of information. A few pictures falling out that you don’t quite manage to catch.

You ignore them, taking a seat in Sebastian’s shop as he moves around the room, shuffling different pieces of paperwork and chips into places. His hands reaching up for the vents above his head and tugging out a few spare pieces of equipment. You can hear him opening the packs her wanders around with, attaching things to the straps around his body. You choose to ignore that for now. Instead choosing to read the file in front of you. Your eyes scan over the first line, catching onto three things at once. His technical experiment name, his codename, and finally his legal name. Your eyes scanned each individual word quietly. The shuffling in the background not particularly drawing any of your attention. There’s that shoot to kill statement you’ve heard a thousand times before. You’re starting to understand why he’s so aggressive. You’d be pretty pissed too if you were an experiment gone wrong, especially if you hadn’t even done the crime you were accused of.

At last you shut the file, eyes being drawn back to the images now laying on the ground. You scoop them both up. In your hands is an image of current Sebastian, larger and aggressive. He looks damn near ready to shoot the camera. On the other image…you. No wait, not you? His jawline is a bit sharper and he’s got a scar on his face but he looks so much like you. Honestly, it’s a bit shaking. A mugshot that isn’t yours but looks so much like you. The more you stare at it the more begins to make sense to you. The dots connecting on why his reaction to your face was so aggressive. Why he tends to almost stare a little too long. You thought it was because he found you ugly, or because he was trying to grieve the death of a loved one. In some ways, you suppose, he is. He’ll never have this face again. He’ll never be able to see himself properly in the mirror and he certainly wasn’t the innocent man accused of a crime he didn’t commit anymore. How many people had he killed trying to get what was necessary to escape? How human was he anymore, without his face, without his body. Was it human desperation, or animal?

“You never told me you were so pretty.” You joke as Sebastian jolts. It seems he’d gotten so wrapped up in adjusting things that he hadn’t even realized you were still in here. His eyes flick from your face down to your hands. You turn the picture of him around, pointing at it. This only seems to make him mildly uncomfortable as he looks away with a huff.

“Could you not have opened that anywhere else?”

“Sorry…it’s just…you really are handsome.”

“I was, I guess. That was a long time ago now quite obviously.” He slithers closer, scooping up his file and taking the pictures back. He’s careful to push them back into the titled document before shutting it. Then and only then does he hand the folder back to you.

“You still are, maybe you look a little different now, but you’re still very pretty.”

“That’s not a funny thing to joke about.”

“I’m being serious, Sebastian. You’re pretty with or without a human face. Even if this one isn’t really ideal…I still think you look great.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve still got yours intact.”

“If it’s too painful to look at, I can fix that by wearing my helmet all the time? I just want you to be comfortable. I want you to know that even if you’re not human anymore that doesn’t make you…a monster.” He hesitates, the words sinking into his skin. He’s quiet for a good while before sighing. His hand coming up to his face to drag downward, a display of his exhaustion.

“Just…get out. Take your folder, your batteries, and go back to getting that crystal.”

[fangsforiris]

Paintings Talk

Prompt: Woman in the Painting, Ghostly Dream, Another Woman, Who is She?

Person: Beatrix [Sakamaki]

HC’s:

🫐 If Christa was known for her Forbidden Beauty, and Cordelia her Femme Fatale appeal, then Beatrix would be… Beatrix.

🫐 Beatrix was known for her stoicism and statuesque appeal.

🫐 Sometimes even being referred to as ‘Ice Queen’ or ‘Plain Woman’ for how she maintained a steady, yet un-stained reputation.

🫐 But do not let that mistake her for being ugly. She was far from it. She was a classic, vintage beauty.

🫐 As in, she was made to become a muse. Made to be a painting, a statue even. Just… something to be admired.

🫐 From the long blond tresses going all the way down to her hips, to those striking blue eyes that send shivers down spines. But it was also the way her lips were full and curled, as if she knew she was on display for the world around her.

🫐 Ever since she was a little girl, she could remember the admiration from potential suitors, remember their stares and deeply clouded eyes.

🫐 Overtime, she’d learn that she would have to play into it, lest she became unfit to be wed and bring dishonour to her family and house.

🫐 There was something intriguing about Beatrix that forced many to be pulled into her spell.

🫐 She wasn’t a femme fatale by any means, nor would she like to entertain it on purpose.

🫐 (But that didn’t mean she couldn’t pull it off, oh no, far contrary to popular belief, if she did something, the one thing she’d do is do it well.)

🫐 But she mimicked the aura of that of the old renaissance paintings.

🫐 The ones that you’d be forced to sit and stare for hours, unable to get bored of it.

🫐 She had a ghostly appeal, almost. Especially when she would go on to die.

🫐 If she was a painters muse, then what would become of her once the body’s been dead and buried?

🫐 For this reason, Karlheinz commissioned many paintings for her.

🫐 In fact, in the castle, she has the most paintings commissioned and posted about out of all the 3 wives.

🫐 Karlheinz was not immune to her bewitchery (if one could call it that,) Beatrix just had something to her that comforted the sullen, but intimidated the guilty.

🫐 Karlheinz would spend hours watching her be painted, the small details mattered. Never was he more attentive in anything when Beatrix was getting painted.

🫐 He’d even use it as an excuse to shamelessly watch her. (Not that he had any shame to begin with.)

🫐 Out of all his wives, he certainly appreciated how cordial the two could cohabitate alongside one another.

🫐 The two didn’t care for playing house, they both knew this, but they would converse as if they knew each other lifetimes ago.

🫐 Beatrix may respect Karlheinz as a superior, and as a bright mind to grace their time, but she too knew her self-worth— And Karlheinz knew that as well.

🫐 He 100% respected Beatrix the most, as he enjoyed the small company the two would share, and her willingness to listen to his rambles.

🫐 The small late nights the two would share without the need for physical activity, it was the platonic affection the two could indulge in that made it all the worth it.

🫐 They both knew they had their reasons for marriage— Beatrix for higher social standing and upholding her family name, and Karlheinz for increasing his lineage and fame as king.

🫐 They both knew they could never love each other, but it was the fact that the two held a mutual respect and understanding for one another that strengthened their bond.

🫐 Karlheinz would play with her hair when stressed, on the rare moments when his existentialism overbore his entity, Beatrix would listen and stay as a loyal ear.

🫐 Beatrix could be anything, but she was loyal until the end— even as a widow from her previous marriage before Karlheinz.

🫐 On that note— she was 100% wed to another man before Karlheinz, maybe even two husbands before the Great King.

🫐 So she was not a virgin when she laid with Karlheinz.

🫐 I suppose it was third times the charm, as she became a widow to two men, but only on the third would the husband become a partial widow.

🫐 Once she died, there… was something wrong with the paintings.

🫐 It was as if the eyes moved, apart of her soul present in each and every one of the paintings located in various locations of the castle.

🫐 There was something about Beatrix’s paintings that made the hair on your arms and neck stand up. The type of thing where you get cold feet. As if your breath was being taken away under the eyes of azure.

🫐 Some have even said that their magic was drained after passing by. Some have even felt their undead heart skip a beat, before ceasing all action.

🫐 Even a whisper or a shudder of a scream would be heard through the halls.

🫐 Like… her paintings were cursed?

🫐 It was due to these strange, paranormal occurences, that some areas within the castle were bordered down.

🫐 Karlheinz didn’t have the heart in him to take down the paintings, his attachement far too strong.

🫐 Shuu remembers walking past her painting in the hall nearing the old ballroom before being renovated. For a moment, he swears blue flashed, energy being emitted from the painting. He tripped, his gaze plastered on his shaking hands. He wouldn’t tell a soul of how he slowly turned his head, his peripheral view displaying the mouth of a woman turn into something akin to a cynical smile.

🫐 Rumour throughout the castle and higher end nobles spread of her paintings being painted with her blood. A pint for each painting, as if she wanted to live on in some form.

🫐 Perhaps it also included her magic..?

[cjskribblez]

‼️DESERT DUO RANT AND/OR ANALYSIS COMING UP‼️

Ok so I told this to someone else’s blog but I’m telling you because I have too many ideas for my empty, hollow shell of a skull where my brain should be and u seem to also like desert duo so let’s get into it

People have been saying that desert duo has had a divorce but NAY!!!! I OBJECT AND DISAGREE UNTIL MY FINAL BREATH!!!

Grian and Scars divorce arc was more so double life but I’ll still defend that series too

So GET THIS,

I see Grian and Scar as high school ex’s / ex-best friends (I personally don’t like shipping them but I digress) who had a messy split up and are obviously spiteful towards each other, and can be seen glaring at each other in hallways(we all saw them staring at each other while the mansion burned down, right?) But in between classes, they talk by their lockers like they never hated each other. In their free time they “accidentally” meet each other and talk like they never had those horrible fights that lead them to dislike each other so much in the first place.

This might be a weird analogy but stay with me,

We know this dynamic right? It’s classic. We all know it. When they were best friends or partners, they were still a little toxic for each other. But they didn’t notice. Or maybe they did, they just didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe they did notice but they just swept it under the rug and refused to acknowledge it and stayed friends (coming from someone who was in a friendship like this before, that’s a lot more common than some people think). But now that they’ve split up, they see and acknowledge the other person for who they truly are because they no longer have those rose tinted glasses they have before when they were best friends. Now they actually see what the other person is truly like. When they were best friends, those dangerous or toxic traits weren’t usually aimed at each other.

The two had horrible fights that lead them to split up in the first place, but now a few months or weeks later, whatever you want to call it, they’re slowly coming back to what they used to be, or at least they’re not able to truly split up. Maybe they still hate each other, but they’re always near each other. Maybe they still hate each other, but they’re always seen talking every once and a while. They might hate each other but they can’t leave no matter how bad they want to. No matter how “moved on” they are, they’re still there.

Ok rant over sorry for doing all that I just have no life and watched the recent episode I have too much of the sillies 😋

"THEY NO LONGER HAVE THOSE ROSE TINTED GLASSES AND SEE THE OTHER FOR HOW THEY TRULY ARE" anon you've killed me!! I'm dead.

Not seeing the ugly parts of people close to you, (whether intentional or not) can be such a painful thing when you step back and have space from eachother and actually LOOK at them. and I think this is the first series where they're actually doing that and not really getting tangled up in eachothers messes. Scar especially (since I think Grian often likes to be a hypocrite and talk about how crazy Scar is) but yeah. Wow. U nailed it. I will be thinking about this for a long time now👍

[spikybanana]

we're clueless but so fine- part 2/7

hihihi bet you didn't think this was making a come back: me neither. asexual wolfstar asexual wolfstar asexual wolfstar at hogwarts part 1 / masterpost

Sirius went on a couple more dates with Amelia. During which Sirius did get better at kissing, thank you very much. Luckily for him, they didn’t go back to Madam Puddifoot’s again, and they got around to checking off a couple classic spots for this dating business. It was rather nice of her to show him around, and it was positively thrilling to watch his friends’ (James and Peter’s, for Remus was staunchly indifferent) deferential expressions as he narrated the escapades. 

It all came to an abrupt stop, however, one mid-winter afternoon. They were just meandering silently towards Hogsmeade’s edge, ready to return to Hogwarts after their last date. Sirius brought them to a stop, stepped forward to press a kiss onto Amelia’s lips. 

“So, when do you want to meet up next?”

Amelia was hesitant against his lips, however. 

“Actually…” She began, gently pushing Sirius away, “I think we should break up, Sirius.”

“What, why?” Sirius frowned, flabbergasted. Amelia looked apologetic, a bit stricken with it. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! I like you, Sirius, I really do. And you haven’t done anything, promise. And uh, that’s sorta the point.” She chuckled flatly, “You’re brilliant, and funny and charming, and all of that. But we’re just… not going anywhere, are we?”

“What do you mean?” Sirius put on a grin, and decided to grab her hand, “we’ve gone to all the places. We’ve talked and kissed, and gotten to know each other, and unless you mean— oh.” his grin fell flat, useless.

“Yeah.” She smiled tightly. “Guess I wanted more than you, which is fine, just means I’m not necessarily willing to wait.”

“I thought that’s not what this is all about.” Sirius grew defensive, “Relationships are about making that connection and, and forging something together with care—”

“You’re full of pretty words, Sirius.” Amelia cut him off, “but is that really what you’re in this for? Sometimes I doubt you really even care about— you know.”

Sirius took half a step back, crossing his arms. He felt accused, but he barely knew what she meant to accuse him of. Did she think he was putting up a front of liking her? Or that he had romanticised a glitter-vest affection for her out of thin air?

“And hey, even if you don’t care, that’s fine, really.” Amelia continued, “I’m not trying to accuse you or guilt you into anything, because I never said there was anything either of us needed. But I’m just… saying it now, before either of us get bored and this gets ugly.” 

Sirius stared at her for a long time, then sighed. “I… appreciate you being straight with me, I suppose.” He looked down at the ground, then back up at her again, “why didn’t you ever try to tell me what you wanted?”

At that, Amelia let out an incredulous laugh, “What do you mean? I’ve been dropping hints for weeks, you really haven’t noticed?” she keened, “I’d been staring at you so much I almost felt bad— it almost felt inappropriate.”

“What?” Sirius nearly screeched, “I hadn’t noticed at all, I—”

“Are you serious? I mean, well fuck, obviously but. Sirius. Girls stare at you all the time! More than a couple of blokes too, if you ask me.” Amelia shook her head with amazement while Sirius gawked. “People are— people like you! You’re— fucking hell. You’re good looking, you’ve got that whole reputation going around of being the aloof lover, which by godric you are not, but the point being— it’s like you’re fawned upon by half the school, do you really not know at all?”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, having left Sirius utterly confused and mildly irritated, what she said about other girls leaving something clammy and squirmy down the back of his spine. The Break Up had been conclusive, Sirius wholly caught off guard by Amelia, who’s usually so cool-mannered, going into a strop about that of all things. 

He was lying face down on his bed, alone in their dorm. The rest of them had been a little stupefied when Sirius told them. Even James looked at a loss for what to say or do. 

“Do you want us to… give you some space?” James had asked, carefully. Which sounded utterly ridiculous to Sirius but he shrugged and let them play their part, at which point James had dragged the rest of them out.

Sirius signed wearily, rolled out of their bed, and went to the bathroom for the mirror. 

Sirius had truthfully (no, really) not thought much about the functions of mirrors before. It was jarring, to say the least, seeing all the blasted portraits of that blasted house on his own face. But after what Amelia said… he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that other people saw, when they looked at him. He stared at his face, trying to find some other way to look at those eyes, those lips. He tilted his chin this way and that, testing the angles, seeing how the light highlighted the cut of his jaw. Was this what they saw? How his hair naturally fell, framed his cheeks and hid the colour of his eyes, which were a stormy grey of—

Bloody bollocks of Merlin. 

Sirius growled in frustration. This was hopeless, entirely ludicrous. He shuddered, kicking himself for even thinking through the whole ordeal. There was no point, he decided. What people did or didn’t see was entirely their business, and really, Sirius couldn’t care less.

What he did notice however, was that Amelia was right. Once he started looking, he could see that he turned heads in the corridors, he caught people’s attention when he spoke. He had a grip on people, alright, and he supposed it was rather flattering. It was a new kind of self-consciousness that was as unnerving as inexplicably thrilling. 

Sirius didn’t know that he was going to act on it until, well, he was. It was just another morning of shenanigans at the breakfast table. James making dumb jokes at Lily Evans as she passed with her friends, and Remus whacking him on the head affectionately. In the middle of the group that passed, however, Sirius saw Mary turn to him, with a meaningful smile that was both shy and sly, and his head rushed with understanding. 

Perhaps, all this was a game he could play. 

Not only that, this was a game he was endowed to play well. 

He began to slip out of his seat. He winked at his friends’ questioning looks, grinned like he was on a mission, and promptly swooped towards where the girls were just leaving through the Hall’s doors.

[kaytrawrites]

Heart of the Kitsune - Episode 2: Family Ties

WARNING - this is very cringe and stereotypy. You have been warned.

Overview

- Sotan summons a demon wolf (related to Kitsune) - Demon Wolf invades Tomi’s school & Tomi gets rid of it - Maya meets Tomi’s mother (Kishi Mashi) - Meet Toda Karen & her ‘bees’ (Caitlin MacAilin & Malia Springs-On-Water)

Kishi Tomiichi waved to his mother as she drove away, leaving him to his second day of school. He turned and headed toward the school entrance, lost in thought. Then, he jerked to a stop when he was faced with the angry teen girl known as Machida Maya.

“Maya.” He said, trying to dodge around her.

Her hand snapped up and grabbed a tuft of his hair, which just so happened to include his left ear. “What the hell was that yesterday!?” She snapped, shaking in rage.

Tomi winced as she pulled. “I have no – OW – idea what you’re talking about!”

“Yes you do!” Maya snapped. “There is no way you can even exist if what you told me yesterday is true!”

Tomi reached up and grabbed Maya’s wrist, relieving some of the pressure on his ear. “I can assure you. I’m quite real.” He said, calmly. A touch of pressure on just the right spot, and Maya’s grip loosened enough for him to get away.

Maya growled after the retreating teen. “We are not finished with this!” Quite a few of the other students shut up and turned to stare at her. “Ugh.” She muttered, and marched off to her first class.

A shadowy figure stood on the flat roof of the school, and watched Maya storm off. They sighed quietly. “Really Maya. You did not heed my warning, and now you will pay the price, I suppose.” An ugly glow slowly grew behind them, then gradually faded.

“Master…” A dark, chilling voice growled behind the person. “What do you wish…?”

The person turned, a dark book clutched against their chest. “I want you to break Kishi Tomiichi.” He stated, clearly.

The dark mass, vaguely shaped like a wolf didn’t move.

“Well?!” The master of the creature snapped. “What are you waiting for?!”

The dark creature growled. “I sense no be-ing with that name, master…”

The person growled, then looked back down at the courtyard. “Well, well, well. Kishi Tomiichi is not your true name, is it?” He lifted a hand and waved it, dismissing the demon. “I’ll bring you something to find him. Don’t you worry…” They turned and headed toward the roof entrance of the school, the darkness that shrouded then dissipated, revealing the school’s boy uniform, and the young man that was wearing it.

Machida Sotan pushed open the door, and slid the book that he had been holding into the book-bag that was leaning against the wall just inside. He lifted the bag onto his shoulder, and headed down the stairs to the first class he shared with his twin sister and Tomi.

Tomi had been cornered. Again. But, this time it wasn’t by a jock or Maya. It was by the ‘Queen Bee’ and her ‘hive’. Toda Karen, Caitlin MacAilin and Malia Springs-On-Water.

Karen was a classic Japanese Beauty: petite, long dark hair, almond shaped dark eyes. Caitlin’s father was originally from Ireland, so she was tall, large busted, with fiery red hair and sharp green eyes. Malia was pure Native American; her skin was browned, and her hair and eyes were deep black.

Tomi didn’t know what drew Caitlin and Malia to Karen, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with them right now.

“What?” He asked, sharply.

Karen leaned forward, right into Tomi’s personal space. “I want you…” She purred, trying to sound seductive, and succeeding.

Caitlin was playing the tsundere role of the trio. “It’s not like I wanted to go along with this…Leibide…” She looked away, a faint blush on her cheeks.

Malia had just grabbed his arm and was clutching it tightly to her chest. “I like! We keep!” She crowed. As the shortest, she was playing the adorable cutie that very few could resist.

Tomi was immune to all that. “You three read too much harem manga.” He stated, pulling his arm from Malia’s grasp. “High school is not a place to find a guy that would ‘love’ the lot of you.” He pushed past the three, who were glaring daggers as he kept speaking. “Try one of the jocks. Or the actual manga-reading-guys that like that sort of thing.”

Maya barged into the room, and plopped down in her desk, which was right next to Tomi’s. She glared at Tomi, who pointedly ignored her.

The teacher called the class to order and started roll-call. She paused at Tomi’s name and rolled it off her tongue, giving him a sultry look.

It wasn’t that Tomi was dense, it was just that he had absolutely no desire to impregnate a bunch of girls with children that could turn out to be Kitsune, which would draw the attention of the Eight and Nine-tails. And that would be bad. He would be dragged off and made to breed with the most powerful females that could be found, and he would never be able to get rid of all the creatures that the Eights and Nines said they would take care of!

Tomi indicated he was present and pulled out his notebook to take notes.

As notes slowly appeared on the page, the scents of his classmates drifted around him. The cloying scents of girls, the musky scent of the jocks, the new papery scent of the ones who studied all the time, the sharp, brimstone scent of a demon. Wait.

The bell rang just as he identified the scent. He stuffed his notebook away and hurried out of the classroom. He had ten minutes before he had to get to his next class. Just enough time.

As soon as Maya exited the classroom, laughing at something one of her friends said, he grabbed her arm. “We need to talk.” He growled, and pulled her further down the hall, despite her protests.

He stopped in a tiny alcove that held water fountains that very few used. Maya shook his grasp of her arm. “What the hell was that?!” She demanded.

Tomi sniffed quickly and didn’t smell the demonic scent. “We have a demon.” He said. “I scented it in class.”

Maya froze, and her eyes bugged. “You’re joking, right?”

“No.” Tomi met her eyes, showing how serious it was.

“We need to call the council!” Maya exclaimed, reaching into her pocket for her phone.

Tomi grabbed her wrist. “And they will just call The Demon Killer!” He hissed.

“So!” Maya said, much louder than Tomi had spoken. “Of course they will!”

Tomi leaned in close. “And since I’m here anyway, she will tell me to take care of it.” He hissed.

Maya frowned. “Why would she tell you to do it?”

“Because she is usually taking care of the big guys. I get the small-fry.” He leaned back against the wall, and rolled his eyes. “But sometimes I take on the big guys if she’s busy.”

“Just how do you know her?” Maya asked, dumbfounded.

Tomi grinned, allowing a bit of his fangs to glint. “I’m not telling.” He stepped out of the alcove and headed for her next class, leaving the confused Maya behind.

It was during Gym that Tomi smelled the creature again. It was fainter when he had smelled it in class, but now it was much sharper, with an undertone of wet dog. It was manifested.

A girl outside the Gym screamed.

Tomi sprinted outside, along with most of the other students. Maya was cornered by a massive demonic wolf. She was backed into a corner, and was purely terrified. Her control was shot, and it overwhelmed the bracelet, seeming to create a haze about her that looked almost like a tail and ears.

Tomi scowled. Of course it would be her! The fates had it in for him since the moment they killed that first Demon. He hurriedly glanced around, and saw that the students were focused on the demon, and not on the other students around them. He hurried around the corner of the building, where none of the other students were watching.

Then he completely shed the illusion. His red-brown hair became snowy white, his three tails roiled around behind himself, much larger than when Maya had seen them. His gym clothes were replaced with a pair of lose dark pants and a short white kimono that was tucked into the pants. His feet were bare, but the nails looked like claws, as did his fingertips.

A wide dark band was wrapped around his forehead, completely obscuring his eyes, and hiding his identity from everyone. It was only the work of a few seconds to climb onto the roof of the Gym, which was bearly two stories tall. He pulled his katana from its space, and unsheathed it. He looked down at the gathered students, and noted that the wolf was too far away to just jump on and attack outright. A gap, about five feet across, appeared among the students, close enough to jump to.

Tomi jumped.

The wind whistled past his ears, and he slammed into the ground with considerable force. Students screamed and cried out. Through the dust, an opening appeared. Tomi dashed forward and swung his blade at the beast.

Red appeared in the black fur on the demon’s head. It reared back, and howled. Tomi ran behind it and grabbed Maya with his free arm. He ran with all his speed back to the front of the beast, and scowled when he saw the dozen or so smaller wolves appearing from the creature’s shadow.

Tomi glanced down at Maya, who was looking up at him, her eyes wide. “W-who?” She whispered.

Tomi said nothing, and shoved her toward the students who were quickly backing away. She stopped just shy of the crowd and turned to watch, but Tomi had already turned back to the demon.

‘Well, well. You are the one my Master was talking about…’ A low voice growled in Tomi’s head.

Tomi ignored the voice and lunged for the creature’s head, ready to strike a serious blow. The wolf howled again and several of the gathered wolves lunged for Tomi. He ducked and sliced his sword through them, breaking them into shadows.

More attacked. They were killed just as easily.

The wolf paused, seeming to catch its breath. Tomi lunged again, this time cutting a serious gash into its side.

It reared back and howled. Tomi leapt for its throat, ready to deliver the killing blow. A paw came out of nowhere and slapped Tomi aside. Tomi was slammed inch deep into the wall, and he lost his grip on his sword, sending it back to where it came from. Tomi slid out of the dent he had left, and collapsed on the ground.

“NO!” A female voice shrieked. Tomi looked up, and a girl stood between him and the demon. Maya.

You idiot. Make the idiots. Three other girls had joined her. Karen, Caitlin and Malia.

Tomi stood and drew on the deep well of power that he had been born with. He only used the overflow and rarely tapped into the source.

He felt his body begin to change. He was taller, stronger. He walked up past the girls, who all stared in surprise. Tomi dashed forward and slashed at the creature, his claws causing more damage than even his sword did. The wolf roared. It grew smaller, becoming more human shaped.

The wolf demon lunged for Tomi’s throat, its human-like hands wanting to choke the life out of Tomi. Tomi dodged, and slapped the thing’s back, sending it into the concrete ground.

The demon lunged up again, slashing at Tomi for all it was worth.

Tomi backhanded it, and it slammed into the wall. For a long three seconds, it lay where it had fallen. Tomi called his katana back, and plunged it into the creature’s exposed back. White fire roiled up from the ground and consumed the dead wolf demon, right down to the smallest bone.

Tomi turned and looked back over the students. He had to deal with this, otherwise his mother would kill him.

“You will forget any of this happened.” He commanded, pushing power into his voice, making it more convincing and beautiful. “It was simply a fire drill.”

The students all acquired a dazed look and Tomi fled. He shifted back, and rejoined the students, who were all milling around, talking about the ‘unscheduled fire drill’.

Tomi simply smirked and let the teachers do their thing.

Once the last bell for the day rand, Tomi headed for the gate. His mother was picking him up, since they had to do a bit of grocery shopping.

Maya, Karen, Caitlin and Malia were standing around, chatting.

Tomi frowned, but ignored them. Until Maya came up and grabbed his arm. “What the hell was that?!” She yelled.

Tomi looked down at her with a slightly confused expression. “What was what?”

“That demon! We all saw it!” Karen shouted.

“What demon?” Ignorant card?

Caitlin slammed a fist down on the top of Tomi’s head. “Idiot!” She screamed.

“How is my son an idiot?” A beautiful, husky voice asked.

The four girls jumped and yelped.

The woman smiled, her head tilting slightly and her eyes crinkling almost shut. “I’m Kishi Mashi.” A dark aura appeared around her. “And you four are…”

Maya sniffed slightly and her eyes widened. She hurriedly bowed respectfully to hide her surprise. “I’m Machida Maya, Kishi-sama!”

Karen bowed as well. “Toda Karen, Kishi-san.”

Caitlin nodded. “Caitlin MacAilin.”

Malia grabbed Mashi’s hand and pumped it up and down. “I’m Malia Springs-On-Water, Miss Mashi!”

Mashi glanced at her son, her eyebrows raised. “It’s nice to meet you girls.” She replied, smiling again. She turned back to Tomi. “Son, I don’t think you could have done any better.”

“Hah?” All four of the girls asked, looking very confused.

Tomi wanted to sink into the ground and never come up. “Mom!” He whined, actually putting a bit of foxlike whine at the end, his ears pressing flat against his skull.

“Well, a young Kitsune, a half-fay, a shaman and an alter maiden. I’m surprised you didn’t notice before now.” Mashi explained, her voice slightly scolding.

The four girls tensed up in turn. First Maya, then Caitlin, followed by Malia, and finally Karen.

“H-how did…” Maya asked, tentatively.

Mashi laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me, Blood Rose. Your clan holds me in high regard.” She paused and the dark aura returned. “And fear…”

Maya gulped. “Y-you’re…!”

“Perhaps.” Mashi smiled again, and headed back to her car. “Tomi, we need to get the shopping done.”

Tomi hurried after his mother, and Maya watched, terrified. If Mashi was who she said she was, then Tomi was so powerful, he could easily take out any of the nines even when he was just a four. And judging by his age, he would be able to do just that as soon as he graduated.

‘By the fates, how can he even exist…?’

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[bungeenomin]

COMPETITION- KIM DOYOUNG

genre: e2l doyoung x reader 

word count: 5.2k

summary: your entire life, your neighbour has been nothing but competition. from as soon as you had the ability to form an opinion on people, it was engrained in you to hate kim doyoung. but can you still hate him when you reunite as adults after getting hired under by same company? is he still competition?

warning: oral (m+f receiving), dirty talk, sex

a/n: feel free to send me requests, asks and leave feedback!

main masterlist

from when you were a kid, you were taught to hate the kim family. ironically, both your parents and mr and ms kim pretended to like each other. they acted like they didn’t completely despise one another, but they knew they did, everyone did. the feud was so petty, you’ll admit. your families constantly competing with who was the richest, who had the nicest car, who had the better education, who’s children were more talented. no matter how petty you knew the feud was, it was ingrained in you to hate kim doyoung with all your being, and that’s exactly what you did.

when your parents and the kim’s pretended to get on, you and doyoung never dared speak to each other. in both of your eyes, you were just competition, feeding into your parents on going feud. as you sat glaring at each other at dinner meals, your parents would brag back and forth about how amazing their dear children are, constantly trying to one up each other and get the last word.

you didn’t hate anyone, you thought hating was harsh. but kim doyoung was different. you had deep, deep hatred for him. your only conversations were cold, offensive, hateful. he was an obstacle in the way of your success from the day you were born until the day you moved away for college. he was nothing but competition.

December 5th 2020

“good look today my love” your mother beams through the phone, full of pride. it’s your first day at your new job, an extremely well paid job, a job to make your parents proud of you. 

“thank you mom but i have to go now, being late on the first day wouldn’t leave a very good impression” you sigh, grabbing your handbag from the passenger seat and exiting your car, locking it behind you. “i’ll fill you in later mom, okay?”

“yes, yes of course!” your mother enthusiastically responds. “your father and i are so proud of you, talk to you later”

you sigh, locking your phone. you love your parents, you really do, but sometimes they can be intense. too intense. in their minds, everything has to be perfect first try. according to them, successful people leave no room for errors. they leave no one pass their level of success. they get distracted by no one, keep their eye on the prize. 

the building is exactly the same as you remember it from your interview, extremely large, but not too difficult to find your way around, signs and directions places frequently throughout the building. “hello, my name is y/n, i start working here today” you confidently tell the receptionist. 

“ah yes” she responds, “one of mr lee’s new recruits”. one of? clearly multiple people were taken on at once, not that it’ll be a problem to you. “follow me, i’ll lead you to where the rest are waiting” she smiles softly, walking you down a corridor and into a waiting room. “mr lee will be with you shortly!” 

there are four or five people in the room, you assume all starting work today, but your eyes lock on one person. kim doyoung. after what, five, six years? he looks the exact same, slightly better skin with more prominent facial features. he wears a slick black suit. classic. he can’t help the cold chuckle that leaves his lips the second his eyes land on you, eyeing you up and down in the process, judgementally. the last thing you expected was to see him here. after all the years you spent competing with him, you never thought that you would be back at it again after college.

“long time no see” he mutters. 

you roll your eyes, “yeah, pity, i finally erased your ugly face and shitty attitude from my memory and now i’ll have to start all over again” 

doyoung chuckles leaning closer to you, “ouch, i’m hurt. well now you have plenty of time to watch me beat you, like i always have done”

“you fucking wi-”

“hello everyone, nice to meet you all as employees and not applicants this time. as i’m sure you’re aware, i am the ceo of this company. i take great pride in my company and only hire the best of the best, people who i know will aid my companies success”

“shame he hired you then” doyoung whispers. 

“now, i am a busy man, but that does not mean i won’t see if people are slacking. If you are slacking, you get one warning. If you continue to not put in one hundred percent, you’re fired. it’s as simple as that. i will constantly be able to view your work, so i expect everyone’s full effort. i believe i pay you very well for your job, so expect it to be done well. anyway, with that being said, welcome to the company! i hope we can all do great work together” 

as soon as mr lee finishes his introductory speech, you are brought to your offices. it is one big room but fortunately, there are walls between each desk, allowing for privacy to work. you notice there is someone in between you and doyoung, which you are eternally grateful for, you really don’t know how you would be able to work to the best of your ability knowing he’s beside you. 

it doesn’t take you long to get stuck into your work load. quickly setting up your desk to your liking and turning on your computer. honestly, the morning goes really fast. with the work load you have, you’re constantly busy. what distracts you slightly is when you see a familiar face walk to mr lee’s desk, handing him a stack of papers he was working on, ready for mr lee to read. “thank you doyoung, i appreciate your hard work already”. with that doyoung turns to go back to his desk, not before looking your way and sending you a sarcastic smile. fucking idiot. 

by the time lunch rolls around, you’re just excited to try the food that is served in the cafeteria, everything looking and smelling delicious, leaving your mouth watering. once you get your food, you sigh in defeat as you look around for a table to sit at, only to be left disappointed when you see they’re all full. your eyes slowly pan the cafeteria, looking for anywhere you can possibly sit, until your eyes land on a free seat, beside the one and only, kim doyoung, who’s sat quietly on his phone as he eats his lunch. him working here is going to be more hard than you thought. 

“can i sit here?” you question. 

“gosh y/n, looks like you’re a little obsessed with me huh?” doyoung replies, a smug look on his face. 

“you fucking wish. i wouldn’t come near you unless it was absolutely necessary, which unfortunately, it is. there’s no other seats” 

“whatever” doyoung rolls his eyes, looking back down at his phone as you take your seat. arrogant prick. 

“so” doyoung speaks up amid the awkward silence, “how has little y/n been?”. to anyone else, they would think he was being nice, but you know he’s just nosy. prying into your business as usual. 

“i’ve been great. i graduated top of my year in university, got to travel a lot. all good things” you reply, a smug expression on your face. 

“you know y/n you should really get the stick out of your ass, it’s very unprofessional” doyoung replies, him now wearing a smug expression as yours drops. 

“oh fuck you doyoung”

“i’m sure you’d love to sweetheart” 

the rest of the day went relatively fast, without any more encounters with doyoung, thankfully. before you know it, you’re back in the comfort of your own apartment, relaxing with a glass of wine. you’ve already informed your parents about your first day, causing them to almost burst with pride. what throws them off slightly is the mention of doyoung. ‘don’t mind him’ you mother advised. ‘don’t let him get in your way’ your father informed. not that you intended to take notice of him, certainly not intending on letting him get in your way. 

December 14th 2020

working with doyoung is proving to be a lot harder than it seems. he’s very, in your face. always chiming in with his opinion and what he thinks is right. his presence alone gets on your nerves, let alone when he opens his mouth. to everyone else, he seems like a great, hardworking guy, but to you, he’s just in your way. a headache. an inconvenience. 

“doyoung these files are for you” you sigh standing at doyoung’s desk with your hand extended. 

doyoung looks up from his desk, taking the files from your hand and flicking through them. “no they aren’t” he nonchalantly responds, handing them back to you. 

“doyoung why the fuck would i lie about something so stupid?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “these are for you”

doyoung sits back in his chair, folding his arms. “how do i know you’re not just loading your work onto me, hmm?”

“fucking hell doyoung why are you the most difficult person in the world? jesus. they’re yours. take them, if you don’t do them, it’s you falling behind, not me” you groan, once again extending your arm out with the files that doyoung insists don’t belong to him. as doyoung takes the files from you, your hands brush off each other swiftly, but it’s enough to make your cheeks turn pink to your dismay. 

doyoung chuckles slightly at your reaction to such a small touch. “are you okay?” doyoung questions, playing innocent. 

“of course i am” you respond sharply. 

“whatever you say darling” doyoung chuckles turning his attention back to his computer, leaving you standing there with your mouth hanging at his words. “it’s rude to stare y/n, am i that attractive to you?” doyoung asks, completely focused on his computer screen. 

“fuck off” you mumble before storming back to your office. that’s the thing about doyoung. he’s cocky. too cocky. always thinking he’s better than everyone, above everyone. thinks he’s beautiful. he makes you sick. 

doyoung doesn’t mean to stare. he honestly doesn’t. he catches himself doing it quite often though. the coffee machine is placed in perfect eye line of your desk. it just so happens that doyoung spends a lot of time at the coffee machine. he convinces himself that he looks in anger. you stress him out after all. you’re his enemy. his competition. he never gets caught staring at you, well, until now. “it’s rude to stare kim!” you shout at him from your seat when your eyes meet his, only earning an eye roll from doyoung. you giggle lightly at his reaction. you’ve always loved getting under his skin. 

December 19th 2020

you honestly thought your day was going great. there was very little traffic, no line at the coffee machine, you were way ahead on your work. That was until your boss entered your office, asking specifically that you and doyoung stay back a few hours to get through some work with him. of course, this is your worst nightmare, but who are you to turn down your boss?

“just wait inside my office” mr lee announces to the two of you, “i’ll be back in a few minutes i just have a quick phone call to take”.

the silence between both you and doyoung is severe as you sit in the two seats across from mr lee’s. you try think of something to say, literally anything, to break the awkward silence, but you can’t think of anything. reflecting now, you and doyoung have ever had a casual civil conversation.

“doyoung can we just- can we just cut the shit for this?” doyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “we’re doing this with our boss, and the snappy comments and awkwardness is just gonna look bad, so can we just pretend we don’t hate each other for this”

“fine” doyoung snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and facing straight ahead, you doing the same. once again, the silence is deafening. it’s been a significant length of time since your boss left now, probably getting caught up on the call. “remember that year our families went to the lake together?”

you look across at doyoung, thrown back by his sudden conversation starter. “of course i do, it was a fucking disaster” you chuckle lightly, thinking back on the events.

“the literal worst” doyoung responds. “it felt more like family bootcamp than a break”. it really did. both of your dads spent the whole trip trying to one up each other, making sure their family was presenting themselves as best as they could the entire time. It was intense. 

“no, the worst was when our dads kept trying to one up each other on the jet ski’s” you giggle, “they literally just embarrassed each other”. at the time, you hated the trip. you felt tense the whole time, on edge. looking back now, you can’t help but to laugh at the mayhem. 

“they really did” doyoung cringes, remembering how hard his dad tried to show off his ‘jet ski skills’ when in reality, he was a complete amateur, just like your dad. 

“we beat you in the family tennis tournament though” you tease, remembering how happy you were with the victory. 

“oh whatever, as if i was gonna go hard on a girl. i’m way better than you” doyoung scoffs. 

“oh my god, remember when our dads decided to make a barbecue together!” you laugh loudly, your eyes welling with tears. 

“stop that was so bad” doyoung chuckles, “we just ended up with way too much food and they burned half of it”

once you both calm down from your fit of laughter. there’s a weird atmosphere. everything feels lighter. you and doyoung sit there for a minute, just staring at each other with silly smiles on your face. “i still fucking hate you”

“thank fuck for that” doyoung replies, rolling his eyes once again, playfully this time.

“i’m so sorry!” mr lee announces as he barges into the office. “i’ve kept you here for over an hour without doing anything. look, just go home for tonight i’m so sorry” the older man sighs.

you and doyoung ensure him it’s okay, before getting up and leaving, going your separate ways into the old december night. 

December 24th 2020

the usual christmas eve agenda didn’t even cross your mind when you started your new job. of course, your christmas eve will be spent in doyoung’s families house. this was typical of your families at christmas, the host house alternating every year. 

“merry christmas!” ms kim greets at the door, allowing you enter into her home. “go to doyoung sweetie, he’ll get you a drink” she suggests, extending her arm to the living room, where sure enough, doyoung was. 

doyoung’s eyes devour your figure as you stand in front of him. your dress hugging your figure beautifully, showing you off in all the right places. “your mom told you to get me a drink” you say, an eyebrow raised. 

“wine?”

“red”

soon after you giving your order and taking a seat on the now empty couch, doyoung returns, two glasses of red wine in his hand, taking a seat beside you. “don’t you want to go into the dining room with everyone else?” 

“do you really want to listen to them more than you have to?” doyoung questions, earning a giggle from you as you sip on the expensive wine.

“absolutely not” you reply, getting comfortable on the couch, facing doyoung slightly. “are you going to the new years party in work?” 

“mhmm. it’ll be nice. it also would leave a bad impression on the boss if i didn’t show” doyoung replies sipping on his wine. things are weird between you two since the day in mr lee’s office. it’s like something switched inside the two of you. maybe it’s because you’re speaking as adults now, not children. maybe it’s because you’re both independent of your parents. for whatever reason, you can’t find the same hatred you had for doyoung previously. “are you going?” 

“mhmm” 

“will you look as beautiful as you do now?” doyoung questions, tilting his head slightly sideways. 

“w-what?” 

doyoung leans in, so close to your lips, eyes stuck on them. you close your eyes, thinking doyoung was about to close the gap between, but instead he whispers in your ear, “maybe you’ll get a midnight kiss”

“doyoung, y/n dinner come on!”  

doyoung stands up, a smug smirk on his lips as he extends a hand to help you up. 

“You’re insatiable Kim Doyoung”

December 31st 2020 

the work new years eve party is going much better than you thought it would. everyone mingling, getting to know each other more than just ‘the person in the office beside me’. everyone is currently sat on the rooftop of the building, a cozy little set up. the addition of alcohol in the coworkers interactions allows them to feel a lot more casual and at easy with each other. 

“everyone it’s just time! come on” someone shouts from beside the large projector mr lee had brought up for the countdown. everyone rises from their seats, glasses of champagne in their hands as they walk towards the projector. 

“ten”

“nine”

“eight”

“seven”

“six”

“five”

you feel an arm sling around you wait. looking up your eyes meet doyoung’s.

“four”

“three”

your heart is pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to finishing the countdown, doyoung’s eyes remain glued on yours, like no one else is present.

“two”

you place a hand gentle on his upper chest.

“one”

“happy new year” doyoung whispers.

“happy new year”. before you can even process the celebratory screams and shouts around you, you feel a soft pair of lips against your own.

the kiss is so soft, delicate, lips gently placed together. you pull back slightly, looking up at doyoung, who rubs soft circles on your waist. you pull doyoung closer to you, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, the body on body contact driving you wild. The kiss this time is harsher, needier, more desperate, your lips moving passionately against each other with such ease.

reality hits doyoung, remembering you are surrounded by colleges. he pulls back and whispers in your ear, “let’s get out of here baby, hmm?”

your back is against doyoung’s door the second you both make it into his apartment, doyoung’s lips attacking your neck, peppering it in kisses, sucking large marks all over. “mmh doyoung” you moan, tilting your head to the side, allowing the man have more access.

“jump” doyoung mumbles against your neck, tapping your thighs lightly as an indication, to which you comply. you jump, wrapping your legs around doyoung’s waist, him holding your legs up with his arms, his hands resting on your ass squeezing it as he begins bringing you to his room. “gonna fuck you so good” doyoung announces, nipping on your neck.

doyoung lays you on your back, him on top of you, not once detaching his lips from your neck. your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, signalling for doyoung to remove the garment. doyoung complies, pulling back to unbutton his shirt, throwing it to the other side of the room. “your dress is so pretty baby, but i think it’ll look prettier on the floor” and with that, doyoung removes your beautiful red dress, allowing it to move to the floor, leaving you in your red lace lingerie. “fuck baby, you look so good for me” doyoung praises, already working on unclasping your bra.

the second your breasts are free from the confines of your bra, doyoung’s lips are on your right nipple, sucking on it harshly, flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub, leaving you a moaning mess. doyoung doesn’t neglect your other boob, messaging it with his large hand, pinching and twirling your nipple between two fingers. “fuck doyoung” you moan, grappling onto his hair, a small groan escaping doyoung’s lips in response, the vibrations against your nipple driving you wild.

doyoung trails kisses all the way down your stomach, making sure to leave his mark on the way. “you want me so bad huh? you’re a moaning mess for me already baby” doyoung smirks against your skin. 

“doyoung, i’m supposed to fucking hate you” you moan out as doyoung starts kissing along the lining of your soaking wet panties. 

“baby, we both know we’re passed that point now” doyoung chuckles as he pulls down your destroyed panties, proud of the mess he caused as he see’s your glistening folds, your juices starting to drip down your thigh. 

doyoung places open mouthed kisses on your thighs, taking in all of you. worshiping every inch of your body, the whimpers escaping your throat being music to his ears. “mmh fuck doyoung” you moan as doyoung licks a stripe up your dripping folds, collecting your juices on his tongue. 

“taste so good baby” doyoung groans, dragging two fingers up your folds and bringing them to your mouth letting you taste yourself, airy whines leaving your lips as you suck on his slender fingers. “gonna make you feel so good” 

with no warning, doyoung shoved two fingers into your tight hole, a scream escaping your lips as he does so. “f-fuck doyoung faster” you moan, grabbing the bed sheets tightly. doyoung listens, picking up his pace, fucking your dripping core with his fingers faster than you can even process.

the room is filled with your load moans, your legs shaking as doyoung’s pace gets faster and faster. doyoung smirks at you before bending down and attaching his lips to your clit, gaining a scream from you as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “doyoung i’m gonna cum fuck” you moan, grabbing onto his hair tightly.

doyoung moans against your clit, sending you over the edge. doyoung’s fingers and mouth don’t stop as you reach your high, continuining to move the whole way through and continuing after, sending your body into shock. “fuck doyoung i came already stop” you moan, causing doyoung to finally let you calm down, stopping his actions and looking at you with a proud look on his face.

doyoung meets your lips again, placing a chaste kiss on them before whispering in your ear, “you haven’t even taken my dick yet angel”. you look at him with doe eyes, as you feel his hard dick through his pants rub against your stomach.

“are you gonna take me like a good girl, hm?” doyoung questions, tucking your hair behind your ear. you respond with a nod but that’s not enough for doyoung. “words angel. use them”

“yes doyoung”

“good girl” he smiles, placing another quick peck on your lips before leaning back to remove his now very tight suit pants and boxers, allowing his hard dick to slap against his stomach, earning a small whimper from you.

“sit up for me baby” doyoung smiles, extending a hand for you to take, helping you sit up. “knees angel”

you comply to doyoung’s request, getting on your knees for him, now eye level with his hard length. doyoung pumps himself twice before tapping his length against your lips, giving you the hint to open for him, which you do.

you wrap your mouth around his leaking tip, collecting his precum on your tongue, earning a groan from doyoung. you move your lips to the base of his length, dragging your tongue all the way back to the top from the bottom, following the vein the goes the whole way up. “stop teasing fuck” doyoung grunts, grabbing a fist full of your hair. “suck”

you once again wrap your mouth around his tip, but before you could move by yourself, doyoung shoves your head down his entire length, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. “pretty” doyoung smirks, enjoying the tears welling up in your eyes as you look up at him as he fucks your throat. moans and groans spill out of doyoung’s lips as your tongue works wonders on his hard length. a moan escapes your lips, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. “enough”doyoung groans, pulling your head off of him, “i’m not cumming until i fuck you baby”

doyoung effortlessly lifts you up, laying you down in the middle of his king sized bed. “do i need a con-”

“no!” you reply sharply. “no i’m on birth control. you don’t need one” you blush at your quick response.

“fuck you’re perfect” doyoung groans, attaching your lips together for the umpteenth time tonight. you’ve had your fair share of kisses, but none of them feel like doyoung’s. his lips feel like they’re made for you. your mouths move in perfect synchronisation, making you feel so whole, so excited.

you moan against doyoung’s lips as you feel his dick against your wet folds. “doyoung please i need you” you whine against his lips, earning a smirk from doyoung.

“so desperate for me angel” he teases. “how badly do you need me?” he questions, teasing you more by just sticking the head of his length in you.

“mmh fuck so bad doyoung i need you so bad, please” you plead, eyes wide showing your desperation.

“good girl” doyoung kisses you softy before moving his hips slowly, moving inside you inch by inch until he bottoms out, both of you whimpering at the feeling. “ready?”

“yes please move” you whimper underneath him.

doyoung wastes no time in grinding his hips in and out of you, fucking you at a fast pace. “you look so pretty angel” doyoung praises, “i love how fucked out you look for me”

“f-fuck doyoung” you moan as he picks his pace up again, you grabbing onto his forearms. “fucking me so good mmh”

doyoung throws back his head in pleasure, your words making him harder and harder, snapping his hips more harshly into you. “you’re so tight for me angel. such a good girl. you make me feel so good angel. all those pretty moans”

doyoung’s praises earn a loud moan from you, digging your nails into his back. you feel doyoung twitch inside you, he’s close. “my good girl. you’re mine angel aren’t you?”

“mmh yes doyoung fuck, just yours, no one else”

doyoung brings his hand to your clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves rapidly as a string of moans escape your lips. “cum with me baby yeah?”

“mmh yes fuck” you moan loudly as you both reach your highs. loud moans from both of you bounce off the walls at your euphoric feeling. “fuck” you whisper as doyoung pulls out of you carefully, his cum dripping out of your hole.

doyoung throws himself down beside you, pulling you into his arms, peppering your face in gentle kisses. “my good girl. you did so good for me baby, so so good” he praises, moving your hair out of your face. “i’m gonna get you cleaned up my love, okay? i’ll be back in a second” he says, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead and walking to the bathroom. 

doyoung returns a minute later with a wet wash cloth, sitting in between your legs. “i’ll try be gentle angel” doyoung warns, earning an appreciative smile from you. 

“Ah sore, sore, sore” you complain as doyoung meddles at your sensitive area. 

doyoung pouts seeing your pain. “sorry baby, i’m done now”. doyoung throws the wash cloth in his laundry basket before climbing back into bed with you, something he hopes he can get used to doing. he pulls you close against his chest and plays with your hair, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t hold you tight. 

“doyoung?” you question, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

“yes baby?”

“why did we spend so long hating each other” you frown. 

“well when we were kids, it was inevitable. but when i became a teenager, it was easier to still hate you than to admit my feelings for you” doyoung shrugs. 

“huh?” you reply confused. he liked you then?

“i liked you a lot when we were teenagers silly” doyoung chuckles. “you’re beautiful, you always have been, you can’t blame me!”

“so you were mean to me because you liked me” you scoffed playfully. 

“exactly” he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“you know y/n” doyoung speaks, “when i liked you back then, i knew we wouldn’t get together while still living at home. i knew we were both too stubborn, and our parents would be too difficult. but i told myself that i’d wait for you. that in the future, we’d meet again and you’d be mine. now, i have you, and it was so worth the wait. 

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. the kim doyoung who caused you all that struggle and strife, has been waiting to call you his. wants to love you. wants to be there for you. “bold of you to assume i want to be yours” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“well do you want to leave me?” he responds with an amused raised eyebrow. 

“never” you whisper, connecting your lips once again, your new favourite hobby. 

January 1st 2021

you had the best sleep of your life last night, in the arms of the one you love. you had the best morning of your life, waking up to cuddles, kisses, breakfast, coffee. it was nice having breakfast with him, the small talk and jokes, it just felt so domestic. so normal. so right. 

“babe, they’re going to be staring at my neck” you pout, as doyoung takes the keys out of the ignition as you pull up outside your workplace. 

“good” doyoung smirks, “they need to know you’re mine”. with a quick kiss on the lips, you’re both out of the car, walking towards the company building. 

walking in to your work hand and hand with doyoung, your neck littered in hickeys from him feels so right. you’re proud to be his. proud to let everyone know. you get some looks from coworkers as you walk through the building, but you couldn’t care less. he’s yours. 

“i’ll see you at lunch angel” doyoung smiles, leaning up against your office wall. 

“that’s if you can resist me for the long” you giggle. 

doyoung rolls his eyes playfully, “brat”  

never in a million years would you have believed you would end up loving kim doyoung. up until two months ago, he was nothing but competition to you. an obstacle to you. now, you want to be with him all the time. you love seeing his head sticking around the corner of your office when he’s at the coffee machine. you love hearing him talk. you love seeing him thrive at his job, no longer seeing him as competition. after all these years, you and doyoung are on the same team. your own team, not your parents. telling your parents about your relationship will probably be, a lot, but you’ll go through whatever it takes for kim doyoung. now you have him, you’re never letting go. 

———————————————————————

@bubudays @uhyikesbro @whoe-dis @nctxtrash @junglewoos @ajhdr @obligatoryidolblog

[clairenatural]

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter seven

Chapter Seven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine. Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels. Chapter Warnings: major fluff word count: 3.9k From the beginning <3

Spencer wakes up to the sound of Amoreena calling for her mother and the feeling of Y/N’s arms wrapped around his middle, finding her way to being the big spoon during the night.

“Dad? Where’s my mom?” Amoreena calls again from outside Spencer's door.

“She’s in here, but don’t come in yet, give her a minute to wake up,” he calls back, hoping she listens and doesn’t come barging in.

Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she sits up, still naked under the covers from the activities from the night before but not concerned in the slightest. She gets out of bed and grabs some fresh shirts from the closet before finding both their underwear on the floor, tossing them at Spencer and telling him to put everything on.

Once they’re finally dressed she opens the bedroom door and scoops up the little one, bringing her back into the bed with them so they can all cuddle.

“What the heck?” Is all Amoreena can ask, “why are you in here?”

“We had a sleepover,” Y/N explains softly, holding Amoreena closer to her and Spencer snuggles in too. “I’m thinking about moving my stuff into here too, so that me and your dad can share and we won’t wake you up by talking at night.”

“Is that why GG’s dress is hanging up there? Are you getting married?” She was full of questions, as always.

It makes them both laugh, “what if we already got married?” Y/N teases her, poking her side lightly.

She starts to pout, real tears forming in her eyes as she pulls away from them to sit at the foot of the bed, “why would you do it without me?” they both rush to console her, wrapping her up in a group hug.

“Not for real, we were just pretending to be married honey, I promise,” Y/N tries to explain softly, “did you want me to have a wedding?”

She nods softly, “like in Enchanted, but I’m your daughter and you marry Spencer and you can have a big puffy dress and I can get one too, can I be the flower girl?”

“Of course we’ll get married for you, just the three of us can plan something okay?” Y/N compromised, making a reference Spencer didn’t understand.

“We have to do it in New York like in the movie,” Amoreena was very serious, looking at them with a stern gaze.

There was a whole world of movies and music that built Amoreena’s personality that he was going to have to learn, he was going to be spending a lot of late nights on Disney+.

“We’ll find a way,” Y/N agreed before kissing Amoreena’s forehead.

“Okay,” she smiled nice and wide, wiping her tears away and cuddling in-between Spencer and Y/N.

She turned more towards Spencer, placing her head on his chest while Y/N spooned into her. The three of them cuddled up in one knot, and Amoreena was a snuggle bug. She cuddled right in and made a tiny home in his arms and he was going to hold her for as long as she wanted to be held.

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling at him, he’d glance to her every few minutes to see her gaze hadn’t moved; she was so content seeing the little family they made, all together and happy as they snuggled up closer and closer till Amoreena felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore and pushed them both away.

“I need to go feed the chickens,” she whispered, still on Spencer’s chest as Y/N got out of the bed, “would you like to help, dad?”

He kissed her little forehead before she sat up, “I’d love to, can I put some jeans on and meet you downstairs?”

“Sure!” She cheered, jumping off the bed and running out the door. Her feet smacking the hardwood floor, making the floor creak and pop as she marched down the cold wooden steps.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He asks Y/N with a small smile, remembering what happened the night before.

She nodded softly, smiling while she suppressed a laugh, “I feel like a teenager again, like my mom's going to know I lost my virginity the second I see her.”

Spencer laughed too, “you haven’t?”

“I said again,” she laughed again, sitting back down on the bed and laying her head in his lap, “I wouldn’t say I’ve been celibate all this time, but yeah no one’s done that with me in a while, it’s normally just me and these bad boys.”

She put both hands in the air, doing jazz hands as she raised her eyebrows, “I love you,” the words had their own agenda as he said them unconsciously.

“I love you!” She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and pulled him down into a big kiss, making the classic smooch noise as they pulled apart and smiled.

“Can I take you on a date this week? Maybe Thursday night, because you don’t work on Fridays?” he felt nervous as if she wasn’t pretending to be his wife currently like she’d reject him for some ungodly reason.

“Yeah, I’d love that, my mom won't mind doing Amoreena’s bedtime routine, she’d probably love to have a sleepover at their house,” Y/N’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect of spending more time alone with him.

He placed his left hand on her stomach softly, staring at the ring on his finger before letting his eyes trail her body. She was in just a pair of underwear and a shirt that used to be her grandma's, beautiful as ever as the sunrise cast an orange glow over her.

His wife.

“Thank you,” she cut into the moment of silence, “for last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She got up and sat in his lap then, straddling his hips and holding his face in her hands so she could get a good look at his chocolate eyes, she ran her thumb over his cheeks, kissing the freckle on top of his eyebrow and the tip of his nose gently, “she has your nose.”

Knowing she saw it too made his heart physically burn, it caught fire in his chest and he felt like he couldn’t breathe “yeah?”

“My mom said she looked like a Who when she was born,” she pushed his nose up with her finger like he was a pig, “it’s so perfect and cute.”

“Thank you,” he can’t help but feel emotional.

“Hey,” she teases him again, “It was my turn to say that, so bear with me for a second before I get too emotional at 7 in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispered, ready to listen intently to how she felt about him.

“You told me something very difficult for you, that was a secret I’m sure no one else knows about, I can tell by the way you panicked last night that this is a serious anxiety you have about never being a father,” her voice was soft as she brushed his hair behind his ears, running her fingers through the curls ever so gently. “You’re a father, hopefully of two”

It made him laugh as a tear trickled down his cheek, pressing his lips together as he listened, not wanting to disrupt all the thoughts she was going to unload on him because it was a ticket into her mind. He was finally learning her feelings and what she thought about him, not just in a fairytale glow, but in the ugly as well.

“If you ever want to talk about her we can,” she changed the subject.

“Maeve was probably a wonderful woman if you loved her enough to wish you had kids with her, she’s technically the reason I have Amoreena, you wouldn’t have donated again without what happened to her,” she made a great point, bringing a positive light to the worst day of his life.

“You’re a wonderful man and I love you very much, being open with me was really appreciated, getting to do what we did last night was very special to me, so thank you,” she smiled softly before kissing him on the lips again.

“Thank you for being the person I can talk to about this stuff, it’s been really scary,” he admitted softly about to cry when they heard the front door slam close.

“And she’s off,” Y/N smiled again, pressing their noses together. “You need to go with her, she’s very impatient.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But I need to tell you that it runs a lot deeper than what you saw last night. I’m a mess in here and it’s not going away overnight because I’ve found my family.”

“I know,” she nodded ever so softly so their noses brushed again. “I am always here to talk, or we can get you a therapist or sign you up for groups, anything you need to feel better, I’m here to assist in making this beautiful brain feel more loved.”

“Thank you,” he whispered again. “So, if I planned a big date night and requested that you wear your best princess dress and meet me at the door for 6, you’d be down?” He teases her.

She couldn’t help but laugh, “sure, cutie, any colour dress do you want me in?”

“I think red would fit the theme I’m thinking of,” saying a little of his plans and not too much, unsure exactly what he wants to do with her first.

She pinched his cheeks as he smiled, “I don’t get any hints?”

“Nope, and I have chickens to feed,” he said, moving her off his lap and getting ready for the day finally.

—

They both sent Amoreena off to school with a hug and a kiss at the bus stop, exchanging I love you’s and saying they’d see her once she got home. Then Spencer kissed Y/N goodbye as she got ready for work, heading to the main house to talk to her mother about Thursday.

He knocked on the front door, being told to come in, he was family now after all.

“Good morning Spencer, would you like some breakfast?” Linda offered with a big smile, exactly like Y/N’s.

“I’d love some,” he gladly followed her into the kitchen, taking a mug of coffee and a homemade cinnamon roll from her. Amoreena already had one this morning before the bus, leaving a single missing spot in the middle of the pan.

“Would you be able to watch over Amoreena on Thursday night so I can take Y/N out on a real date?” He asks with all the confidence in the world, knowing her mother would say yes regardless.

“Oh absolutely!” She beamed, “what were you planning?”

“Can you keep a secret?” He asked before picking up his coffee with his left hand.

“That’s her grandfather's ring,” Linda pointed it out with a smile growing on her face, it was motherly pride if he’s ever seen it, “she finally did it.”

She must have told her mom the plan, her long-time dream of marrying a good person in that field. Someone to have a family with, someone to give Amoreena siblings and all the extra love in the world, and she picked him.

He nodded softly, “last night we got pretend married, and Amoreena got very upset when she learned we did that without her.”

Linda nodded with a soft smile, “they’re attached at the hip, sometimes I think Amoreena is just a clone of her and then I met you.”

He laughed through his nose, eyes wide as he smirked, “well, actually I might be her father.”

Linda sprouted the same expression Y/N had last night when she found out, “huh?”

He sighed, “I donated sperm the month before she got pregnant with Amoreena, my friends said there should be more geniuses in the world and it’s not like I was getting married any time soon.”

Linda just smiled and shook her head with that same sigh of love that must run in the family, she walked over to him and gave him a small hug as he sat at the kitchen table.

“So, Spencer, tell me about yourself?” Linda asked as she sat down beside him with her own coffee and cinnamon roll, getting to know her son-in-law for the first time ever.

He was in there, laughing and bonding with her for over an hour, seeing Y/N drive down the driveway towards work from the kitchen window with a smile. Discussing his ideas for the date, telling her about his family and the dream he always had about running away to a place like this.

“Fate is funny like that, she knows what you need and when you need it,” Bob cut into the conversation, listening from the back door for a few minutes. “you're here for a reason, Spencer.”

He felt like he was on the set of an old movie about family love that always had a happy ending, he didn’t believe that any of it was real. For a second he wondered if he’s been in a coma for the last week, that this was all just a fever dream after crashing his bike on the way to the park, it was all too perfect.

He thanked them for breakfast with a hug, becoming a hugger to fit into her family and he didn’t even mind it. It was nice to be loved truly, not just because they were obligated to, but because they wanted him in their family.

—

His next stop of the day was Penelope’s apartment, he knocked on the door softly and waited patiently for her to answer, smiling wide at the surprise of Spencer behind her door.

“I need your help,” he says before she can even welcome him.

She was still in her robe, a sleep mask over one eye and her hair standing in every direction known to man “what did you do?”

“Nothing, I need a womanly touch for the date I’m planning,” he admitted, turning pink at the embarrassment of coming to her for this.

“What’s the plan?”

“Can I tell you on the way there?”

She raised her eyebrows, “come in and give me a few minutes, you can explain why you’re wearing a ring while I change…”

“For not being a profiler, you sure are good at this,” he avoided her question as he walked into her apartment, sitting right by her bedroom door so he could talk to her through the door.

“It’s a really long story, but essentially her fiancé died when she was 23 so she’s terrified of real weddings and wanted to just tell me she loves me and call me her husband without waiting or making a big fuss about it all,” he explained it as simply as possible. Not sure if he should tell her about the chat he had with Derek. “And we found out I might be Amoreena’s real father anyway.”

She peaked her head out the door, nothing on now and not wanting him to see. It wasn’t like she got naked when she was drunk and shown him everything before, he just laughed as she smiled at him. “If you need help tracking down any other kids, I can do it?”

He felt a little betrayed but he understood, Derek and Penelope had a bond where secrets never slipped out but they did tell each other everyone else's, “he told you?”

“No, I knew you donated because they did a background check into you at the bureau, and I was the one who had to send them the files,” Penelope admitted. “I wanted you to be the one to tell me, but I don’t think you ever would have.”

He shook his head softly, “I just wanted a family one day however I could get one, and when Rossi met Joy I knew it could bring me the same kind of happiness he has with her and Kai."

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad Spencer,” she tried to not get all teary-eyed as she stood behind the door with nothing on, “anyway continue?”

She slipped back into the room and the two of them continued to yell their gossip back and forth through the door before she finally walked out in her most Penelope outfit to date, “and we’re taking my car. It’s top-down weather, finally.”

It’s not that she was a bad driver, it’s just she barely followed any rules. She drove too fast and passed people when she shouldn’t and it stressed Spencer out, but he was too in love to really be bothered by it today. Taking an hour-long journey to Richmond, pulling into the Edgar Allen Poe Museum.

He was a member here, paying them every month to take care of the grounds and the cats, even tracking down some rare pieces from Poe’s collection to donate to them. He was their favourite customer and patron, and they were very excited for him to finally introduce his new love to one of his favourite places ever.

He rented out the Enchanted Garden for Thursday night, being trusted there alone after hours and granted a key to lock up before he left. Penelope and he picked out lights and blankets, what kind of dinner they’d have and drinks.

“So I’ll make sure your picnic basket is all ready and here waiting for you to arrive,” Penelope planned, reading through the list of things she was going to do to help on Thursday afternoon. “What kind of wine does she like?”

“Oh,” Spencer took a second to think, she might want some wine but she’s also hoping to get pregnant, it could help but it could be a hindrance, he didn’t know how to reply.

“Does she not drink?”

“Can you keep a secret?” The second time he asked that question this morning.

“No fucking way,” she whispered, smacking his arm. “Already?”

“No, I’m not sure, we only tried yesterday,” he feels the anxiety in his chest as he explains it, “It doesn’t work that fast which is why I don’t know if we should.”

“Believe me, wine is a good baby-making tool,” she smiled. “I’ll add some anyway and if she does, she does, if she doesn’t oh well, you know where I live.”

It was so easy with Penelope, she understood everything he did without questioning him. Rooting for him and his future family behind closed doors, always trying to get him with someone in the years she knew him, wanting him to get all that “sweet, sweet loving” Derek raved about.

“Do you think she’ll like this? Be honest.” His anxiety slipped back up his throat and past his vocal cords.

Penelope wrapped him up in a big hug, remembering the statistic that people with Autism and anxiety sometimes relaxing better when held with a certain pressure applied. It worked every time.

“She loves you, you wouldn’t be trying for a baby or wearing that ring if she didn’t,” reassuring as always.

“Do you know anything about Taylor Swift?”

It makes her laugh as she pulls back, “why?”

“She’s Y/N and Amoreena’s favourite person on the earth, I know nothing about celebrities, you know that, and I was thinking about getting them tickets or something this summer if she’s doing anything?” He was desperate to do anything to make his girls smile. “I need a Taylor Swift crash course, is there a new Taylor Swift fan for dummies book?”

“Spencer Reid, do I have news for you,” Penelope wrapped her arm around him once again as she rocked him back and forth with glee, “Rossi’s stepdaughter is her is a socialite in New York and one of miss Swifts friends… let's see what we can do.”

And with that, they left the museum with Penelope's arm still wrapped around him as they went back to her car, listening to Taylor Swift while she spat facts out to Spencer, helping him learn everything he could for his wife and kid.

—

He was the only one home when Amoreena got off the bus, running into his arms and giving him a big hug, “Dad!” She cheered the second he held her, kissing the top of her head as he carried her back to the house. “Where is mom?”

“She’s out buying a new dress for a date we’re going on,” he couldn’t help but over exaggerate his voice when he talked to her, it made it more magical for her little world. “How was school?”

“Awesome!” She swooned, “we started our fathers day presents early cause we won't have class after next week.”

He playfully gasps, stopping abruptly in his tracks to look at her in shock, “You can’t tell me anything about it, they’re supposed to be surprise gifts!”

“I know,” she laughed wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning against his shoulder while they walked, “I just wanted you to know one is coming, you always tell me about your gifts early, like at the museum.”

“Well, thank you for telling me,” he kissed her soft forehead softly before smiling.

She was so smart, her mother had raised her to be the most caring and considerate child. She picked up on everything, she wanted to please everyone, she was the sweetest ever.

“Do you have any homework tonight?”

“Nope! Can we watch a movie?”

He just held her cheek to his in a hug while they walked, “of course my sweet Amoreena, what would you like to watch?”

“It’s a surprise,” she whispered, struggling out of his arms and to the ground before running towards the house without him.

He walks in to see her standing in front of the tv with the remote, flipping through the channels and opening Netflix. Going to her mom's profile, down to the watchlist and clicking on the Taylor Swift Reputation Tour before taking off up the stairs to go get something.

“We made this a few months ago,” it was a piece of paper that she handed to him. “It’s the rules for when mom finally got a date, you’re her boyfriend right?”

He opened the folded lined paper, “I am,” he smiled.

Boy/girlfriend rules:

Must be royalty of some kind (or smart like a wizard)

Has to know all the words to Taylor swift’s songs

Likes to read books all the time

Have to like all the candy Amoreena doesn’t so that someone can eat the leftovers from her Halloween candy bag.

Has to be able to name all the Disney princesses

Must like cats. No if’s and's or butts.

It made him laugh, every rule was clearly Amoreena’s idea and Spencer must have ticked off all the boxes if she’s calling him dad already.

“You have to learn all the words to Taylor Swift, then you’ll be her boyfriend for real,” Amoreena informed him. “We have to follow the rules.”

“Well then, put the captions on so I can sing along,” Spencer compromised.

She hugged him with a big smile “you’re the best dad in the world.”

“You’re the best daughter,” he whispered as he held her back. “You make every day better by just being here.”

“So do you,” she replied before kissing his cheek softly and settling onto the couch beside him. “Thank you for wanting to be my dad.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.”

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[fleurlia]

here is part two of this.

[7:13 pm] for all the phases you have been through in the past few months, all of them were disastrous. a couple of months after jeno has told you about his proposal karina and he appears with new rings, explaining to everyone how both just choose to make things more swiftly and not wait until graduation.

you already knew it but that didn't stop you from spending at least twenty minutes crying pathetically in the ladies' room.

certainly when you thought things couldn't get any worse, believe me, they did. you were convinced for the moment karina asked you to help her choose the dress. again, you couldn't blame anyone against yourself.

renjun and donghyuck stood next to you, holding their laughs as she was asking for help in the most loving way. just for when she was gone the duo were shouting loud and attempting to comfort your poor heart. following that, you saw yourself sat there watching karina trying on more than a thousand wedding dresses, for getting married to the love of your life.

it would be easier to hate her if she was a bitch and 20% less attractive. you thought.

and talking about him, you couldn't even hold his gaze without looking weepy and bitter. your friendship existed only by devices, which you believed would be turned off the moment he said yes to her.

after a year of planning and torture, the big day has arrived and even though you have created every possible excuse, none seemed good enough to not going to your best friend's wedding. including a sweet smile, your mom comforted you as you got ready for the wedding, holding up tears and making yourself at least looking attractive on the worst day of your life. you asked more than once for your mother to be merciful and to fake an accident but she keeps telling you how could you get over it if you didn't see "the dead body".

instructed to stay at least a few minutes late, you made everything possible to be delayed. not wanting to arrive and have to deal with the reception and face the bride and groom. not craving to deal with the fact that if you held more than five seconds alone with jeno, you would presumably tell him the truth that was stuck in your throat. then when you arrive everyone was already at the ceremony, your entry causing a small noise that drew attention. jeno's eyes catching yours immediately.

the couple looking supremely beautiful, like always. the dress that karina and you have picked just not fits her but makes everyone around her look poorly ugly. oh my god, i hate myself so much. that was the only thing going through your mind.

sitting down next to renjun, he sends you a glance. "it's almost ended, i thought you were not coming."

"as if i were that lucky"

he chuckles but gently takes your hands. even though you said more than a thousand times that you didn't want anyone feeling sorry for you, he tried his best to make things a little better.

while the minutes started to grow, your mind stopped a few more every time that ceremony got close for the "yes". holding up every tear you possess in your body, you almost failed as the old lady next to you smile in your direction and whispered;

"what are you from the groom??"

"i... i am his best friend, since freshman year at college."

"oh, that's why he is looking right here all the time."

quietly you agreed with her, not even daring yourself to look up and catch all of his stares. the moments pass with you staring to anywhere, you couldn't even look at them without feeling your chest squeeze in sharp pain.

"so lee jeno, do you take this woman as your wife to lover her, respect her, and looking for her?"

wishing to not stand there or even existed, you were close to starting to crying but renjun squeezed your hands and all that people heard at next was; "yes, i do."

lee jeno, the love of your life just got married... but it's was not whit you.

later on, — this including the time you spent crying and sobbing in the car — you were supposed to go to the celebration and that's is what you did as a supportive friend.

the first hour was going like a blink, you have to pretend so much happiness that the idea of the newlyweds just got blanked out of your mind. it was the last straw when jeno's sister approached you with a gentle smile, you could feel her pity just by the look on her face and you felt even more miserable when she said it in a low tone: ''i always thought that on a day like today, you would be my new sister.''

that hurt so much.

the rest of the night passed like a blur, a slow and painful blur. you had taken so many pictures and you were sure that you looked ridiculous in the picture with the bride and groom, donghyuck and renjun were there to support you but your false happiness was quickly destroyed by jeno's stares.

almost at the end of the celebration, everyone full of the food and tired from the dancing, people decided it was time for the speeches and in the crowd of invited people you hid behind your friends. if by any chance the universe hated you that much you would be chosen to give some words and you were ready to make a whole speech based on rose's in "love, rosie". it would be tragic.

karina's mother said beautiful words to the couple and praised jeno so much that you at that moment felt happy for him. many relatives passed by, all of them talking about how perfect they were for each other and at end wishing them happiness. you felt like a jealousy bitch at every second.

almost at the end of all your torture, you already agreed that renjun or one of his friends would take you home because you didn't even want to talk, it was the newlyweds' turn to speak. karina sounded so perfectly in love with every word she spoke out. you were thankful to be far away from the couple because your stomach flipped as you watched jeno stand up, straightening his suit and black hair.

you were about to get up and walk away, not wanting to hear about how much he loved her and was grateful to be married to her but after a second thought, you knew you would draw pitying and pitiful glances in your direction.

"i can give you more than a thousand and one reasons about how i ended up here, married to karina." his soft voice echoing throughout the room. "one of them is because sometimes... we don't notice that what we need is right under our noses. sometimes we even notice... but only a few people dare themselves to confess their love to that person.'' at that point nobody else understood where he was getting at with that speech. just like all evening, you didn't attempt to look at him and be unlucky enough to find him also watching you.

''one more reason why we are here, on this particular night, is that maybe i took too long to realize, waited for too long. i wish i could confess this earlier because... deep down i always knew it was you. the love of my life and my best friend.''

something inside of you clicked. back when you started to date, jeno looked you up one day and you fought, he was just being jealous that your then-boyfriend also claimed to be your best friend and you didn't say anything, the point is that he would never call karina his best friend. on that day, both promise never forgets about their besties and never, never calling anyone ''best friend''.

nobody knew about that.

"if... if i could only go back in time... maybe i would tell myself how i should confess to you.'' you looked up, getting his gaze. you stood surprised when you noticed that his eyes were tearing up. ''if only i had known that we would be here today. i never would have let your lips leave mine years ago, on new years'. i never should have walked away. i never should have panicked. i never should have lost all those years without you... because i've realized that no matter where you are or what you're doing, or who you're with, i will always honestly, truly, completely love you.''

you couldn't believe in your damn bad luck.

you couldn't discover what was more pathetically tragic. the fact that karina would watch the video of her wedding in the future and see her husband confessing his love to someone who wasn't her. or the fact that jeno had chosen his wedding day to acknowledge that he loved you.

karina never kissed him on new year's, their first one was in a cinema. only you did, once in your second year as friends. you two never spoke about it.

karina didn't like romantic comedies, she was a literature major and only liked movies that was focussed on classics. you did. you had made jeno watch "love, rosie" so many times that you both knew the script.

with tears rolling down their cheeks, the two of you stared at each other for what seemed like hours. he loved you too. you both now knew about the other's love. inaudibly while you wiped your tears you both agreed that; maybe in another time, another life, we were meant for a happy ending. but not here, not at this moment.

but it didn't matter, only you two knew how much you loved each other and always would.

ok guys, sorry for making this so long and for any mistakes. let me know if you wanted to me doing scenarios, reactions or timestamps or even let my asks open for requests.

[sageinacage]

OKAY so the meetup right. tubbo keeps giving him this Look just for Anticipation and ranboos jsut glaring at him HGFGFGHJ until they finally get to tubbo's place or wherever and tubbo just Pounces

summary: ranboo visits tubbo in england and tubbo seems to be in a ler mood. a/n: the hc of ranboo and tubbo being in the t community makes me go :]  warnings: swearing w/c: 1.7k

IRL

~

“Ranbooooo!”

“AGH- TUBBO!”

Ranboo jumped, his peaceful standing at the baggage claim interrupted as his best friend, there to pick him up, poked his back as he snuck up on the boy. They were quick to pull each other in a big hug, Lani behind them getting it on film for their meetup vlog.

“Why would you scare me like that, you prick!” He chuckled, watching for his bag. “Because, Ranboo, it’s funny. Also, it’s good content!” Tubbo laughed, joining in to watch for his suitcase- even though he didn’t even know what it looked like.

“You got that on video?!” Ranboo covered his face, loud cackles emitting from Tubbo. “Well, duh! It’s a vlog!” He exclaimed, earning a playful groan from the other.

After a few more very impatient minutes, he finally got ahold of his luggage. “Finally!” Tubbo exclaimed, taking Ranboo’s suitcase from his hand and excitedly wheeling it out with Lani. He smiled, following close behind his friend.

They all got into the car, and Ranboo greeted Tubbo’s mum before sitting down in the backseat with him, Lani in the front seat. Right as they got situated, Tubbo was already shoving his camera into Ranboo’s face.

“How’s England?”

“I literally just got here man, I don’t know!” He laughed, shoving the camera away from his face. Tubbo gasped in mock anger, furrowing his eyebrows. “My poor phone! You just abused him!” He whined, hugging his phone.

Ranboo rolled his eyes at his friend, looking out the window. “Don’t ignore me now, Ranboo,” Tubbo spoke a little quieter and slightly teasier. The other boy’s eyes widened, before looking over at him. 

Tubbo had a wide smile on his face, acting innocent. This was gonna be a long vlog.

When they got home, they quickly dropped off Ranboo's luggage and immediately went back out. “Where are we going now?” He asked, looking back at Tubbo who was walking next to him, his camera shoved in his face. “The park.” He spoke, staring right at the camera lens.

“Tubbo, you’re gonna scare everyone! Your vlog will need a horror warning!” Ranboo jokes, earning a nudge from the other. “Are you saying I’m ugly?” Tubbo looked up at him with a smirk, the boy panicking with a few ‘no’s and rapid headshakes.

They both laughed and continued to walk towards the playground Tubbo was talking about. After about 5 more minutes, they arrived and Ranboo ran right for the swings.

“You can’t escape the vlog, Ranbooo!” Tubbo sang in a sing-songy tone, smiling at his friend who was trying to drown out the teasiness in his voice. “I..I-I’m not trying to!” He stumbled out, looking away. “You know you can’t run from me…” He spoke softly, letting his tone turn more evil.

As a wild blush began to bloom on Ranboo’s face, he didn’t want the whole world knowing he was flustered so he ran off to the actual playset he was way too tall for. Tubbo smiled to himself, knowing exactly what he was doing, and filled with glee that it was working.

He looked back, seeing Tubbo with the most devilish smirk on his face, wiggling his fingers at Ranboo behind the camera. The poor boy panicked, sliding down the slide to get away from him. “Now now, don’t run from me! You won’t go very far before I catch you!” He teased, chuckling to himself at the pure panic in Ranboo’s face.

To anyone else, this would just seem like best friends being playful. Though, to anyone else, specifically the tickle community (shoutout to you guys), they know what’s up.

After what felt like hours of the “relentless teasing,” according to Ranboo, they decided it was time to head back home and finish getting content for the vlog that day since Ranboo was quite jet-lagged.

“What’s wrong, Ranboo? You’re a bit red. Are you sick?” Tubbo smiled innocently up at him, a small grumble coming from the other. “I hate you.” Ranboo bashfully covered his already red face, shaking his head to himself.

When they arrived back, all Ranboo heard was a mischievous giggle from his friend. His immediate instinct was to run to Tubbo’s room to hide, forgetting how hard it was to hide, being tall and all.

“N’awww, is somebody flustered? You’re such a leeeee!” Tubbo playfully poked at his side, Ranboo flailing his arms and backing up further on his bed as he tried to compose himself, attempting to prove that he isn’t in a lee mood. (Spoiler alert: he is.)

“D-Did you know, in Scotland they used to punt midgets as a sport? That’s what I-I’m gonna do right no-hOHOW- NAHAHA!” Giggles erupted as he felt nimble fingers skitter down his ribs and squeeze his waist.

“Oh really? Can a midget do this?” Tubbo questioned, moving on top of Ranboo to straddle him as his fingers continued to explore his waist and sides of his belly. “I knew you were all cute and ticklish, but I didn’t know you were this cute and ticklish! Awwwwwh!” He cooed as Ranboo squealed, his back arching.

“I’m nohohOHAHAT- NOHot thehehere!” Ranboo wheezed, weakly batting at Tubbo’s digits as they found a sweet spot right above his hip bones. “Why not? You seem to be loving this, you keep arching your tickle spots right into my hands!” Tubbo giggled, smiling at Ranboo’s huge smile.

In all honesty, Ranboo was loving this. He had never been really tickled before and had been awaiting this moment for a while with Tubbo’s constant teasing over Discord.

“I HAHAhate yohou! Yohou’re so bahahad!” Tubbo just shook his head, wiggling a single finger over his tummy, earning a few high-pitched giggles from the other. “Awww, if I’m so bad, why aren’t you pushing me away?” He asked with an innocent smile plastered on his features, his single finger wagging over his tummy turning into two, then three, then a whole claw.

“NOHAHEHEHE- IT TIHIHICKLES!” Ranboo shrieked, his back somehow arching even higher as the new sensations on his belly drove him crazy. “Does it? Does it really? I don’t think it does, Ranboo!” He giggled evilly, before scuttling both of his hands under Ranboo’s hoodie to scribble his nails on the sides of his belly.

The reaction was immediate- a screech ripping out of his throat as he slammed his hands to his face in embarrassment. “Nuh uh! No hiding your adorable smile from me!” Tubbo grumbled, pulling a hand out of his hoodie to reach up to vibrate his fingers into Ranboo’s underarm.

“TUHUHUBBO!” Ranboo slammed his arm down, using the other to try to push Tubbo’s hand away from his sensitive tummy. “Do not say my name in vain!” Is the last thing Ranboo heard before he felt his hoodie be lifted and something soft falling on it- wait was that Tubbo’s hair?

“BAHAHAHAHA- PLEHEHEEASE TUHUHUBBO!” Ranboo convulsed as a raspberry was placed right over his belly button, fingers continuing to poke and prod at his waist and hips. After another raspberry, Tubbo sat up to look at his giggly and blushy best friend.

A small whine escaped Ranboo’s mouth before both of his hands slapped over it, eyes widening. “Awww, do you want me to keep going?” Tubbo softened, the classic puppy dog pout painting his face. The boy gave a shy nod, before whining again as he heard a long and exaggerated ‘awwwww’ from the other.

“Alright, you aren’t allowed to complain then as you asked for this, my little lee!” Tubbo snickered, his hands returning down to scribble at his tummy. Ranboo’s giggles were quick to start up again, trying to twist his hips away from the extremely tickly sensations.

“Oh no no, where do you think you’re going?” Tubbo clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of both of Ranboo’s hips and squeezing relentlessly as he pushed them back down. “NOHOHO- *snort* YOHOU SUHUHUCK!” Another squeal escaped him, trying to buck his hips away, but unable to at Tubbo’s iron grip.

“Do I? Do I really, Ranboo? I don’t think you’re in a place to talk, mister.” He sneered, dropping his head again to sneak under his hoodie and to nibble on the sensitive skin around the side of his belly.

“WHAHAHAT THE HEHELL- NOHEHEHAHA!” The poor boy was confused about what Tubbo was doing at first, but all he knew is that it tickled like hell. “Omnomnom!” Tubbo teased, smiling to himself when Ranboo’s laughing fit grew high pitched again.

Tubbo knew he was slowly reaching his limit- even though Ranboo was having the time of his life, everyone has their limits to tickling. So, he thought he should give a grand finale to his ticklish friend before he allows him to recover.

With a mischievous chuckle, he took a deep breath and planting a long raspberry right in the middle of his tummy, hands exploring down to squeeze that spot right above Ranboo’s knees.

“PLEHEHEHEASE- I CAHAHAN’T- TUHUHUBBO!” Ranboo wheezed out, laughter going silent as he shook his head rapidly. “Fiiine, you can’t blame me for wanting to tickle the shit out of you, you’re just so cute, and your laugh is my favorite.” Tubbo smiled at him, reaching his hand to help rub the phantom tickles out of his belly.

“Nooohohoho!” Ranboo whined, attempting to twist away. “Relax, I’m done for now.” He chuckled fondly, his friend sinking back into the mattress as he allowed Tubbo to help. “Thahanks…” The giggly one mumbled, face still bright red from the tickle treatment he just received.

“No need to thank me, I had a lot of fun! We should do this again!”

“Yeheah, but yohou’ll be the lee thihis time,” Ranboo softly chuckled, leaning his head back on the pillow. The jet lag was hitting him, and Tubbo knew that. A little nap wouldn’t hurt, would it?

"Do you mind if I help unpack your suitcase while you nap?" Tubbo asked, Ranboo slowly nodded, sleep quickly washing over him. This was going to be a fun month.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝕳𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓

______________________

sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) hey i just stumbled on your stuff. it's really good!! and this is my first ever request so i don't know if i'm doing it right, but do you think you could write something where the reader is insecure about her body hair and bucky or steve is just like comforting them and maybe some slight smut??

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: SMUT 18+ minors dni, major fluff miss girl 

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: idk if you were looking for just coochie hair but this was really real for me so i made it like an all around insecurity about having hairy arms, shoulders, back, belly, the whole shabang i hope that was ok . this really hit home as a Latina/Hispanic with prominent body hair so i really hope you guys like it

________________________

“What about this one?” Nat held a silk dress, the front cutting low as well as the back. 

“It’s pretty,” you started.

“Yeah?”

“Pretty revealing,” you snorted.

“Nat I already told you, I was thinking maybe something with long sleeves, maybe a pant suit? That's a power move,” you laughed. 

“Y/n, you have a gorgeous body and you should show everyone,” she said smiling softly. 

“It’s not that, it’s just….”

“Just what?” she asked concerningly. 

“It’s stupid,” you chuckled nervously.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you this much,” she said. 

“I don’t really like to wear clothes that show off a lot of skin because I don’t- ugh,” you huffed out, “I have a lot of hair, Like everywhere.”

“You’re human; you’re supposed to,” Nat chuckled.

“I know, but it's very visible and I get a bit insecure,” you mumbled. 

“Awe, it’s ok. You’re still the most beautiful girl in the whole world, did you know that?” Nat smiled hoping to lighten the mood.

“Shut up,” you pushed her playfully.

“No seriously, you’re so stunning and if a guy, who probably looks like a fucking werewolf, has the audicity to say you’re too hairy can literally stick a razor up their ass,” she said making you giggle. 

“You know Steve wouldn’t care,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Stop it,” she was always teasing you about Steve, and as much as you did like him, it’s so embarrassing. 

“Come on buy this one and flaunt that gorgeous body so y’all can fuck.”

“Oh my-  If I buy it will you shut up?”

“Yes.”

You snatched the garment from her hands and walked prissily to the counter hearing the red head snicker behind you.

-

You stood in front of the mirror staring at your appearance. Your skin glowed against the silk fabric, the tie resting on the side of your waist pulling the fabric in to accentuate your features. The back was cut low with practically no fabric above your sacrum. 

Those little hairs crept along your back and you couldn’t help but frown at them. The fuzz was so visible and you just wish you had thin hairs, hardly noticeable like those girls on social media. Growing up people always had something to say about the hairs on your shoulders and your arms. Nothing’s changed as an adult now and it fed horribly into your insecurities. 

“You ready?” Nat came into your room, making you snap your head towards her.

“Oh my goodness, you look so beautiful!” Wanda said walking into your room as well.

“Thank you, guys,” you smiled softly. You couldn’t help but hide your arms placing your hands over your forearms and Nat looked at you gingerly and grabbed your hands softly. 

“Everything about you is beautiful, ok?” she smiled.

“Thanks,” you responded before heading downstairs. 

The music seemed quiet compared to the voices that chattered up and down the halls and rooms. It was very crowded and you were quickly left alone; Nat headed to the bar and Wanda instantly spotting Vision. 

You held your head high and walked through the crowd to the table where Tony had appetizers and snacks for the guests. You felt confident after Nat’s words and you definitely caught the eyes of many different oglers there. One particular man had walked with poise stopping before you with a smile. 

He was quite handsome and you returned a smile, casting your eyes down shyly. He wore a classic all black look, a black button up collar with sleek balck suit pants. His shoes were also black and he looked very put together. He had pitch black hair and gorgeous green eyes. You were hypnotized. 

“You look absolutely ravishing darling,” he spoke smoothly. 

“Oh, uh, thank you. You look very nice too,” you said timidly. 

You two made small talk before migrating to the bar. Nat gave you a look before Wanda spoke to you, her eyes as well as yours glowing red and her voice echoed in your head.

What about Steve?

Get out!

“Woah, what’s with your eyes?” the guy said surprised. 

“What?” you retorted.

“They- They were red for a second,” he stuttered.

“Maybe you’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Nat swooped in. 

“Yeah, probably,” he chuckled. 

You two continued to talk until he asked the dreaded question. The question that always makes you unbelievably self conscious and gross. The question that every goddamn man on earth feels they need to ask for no fucking reason.

“Why don’t you shave your arms?” 

“What?” you asked dumbfounded.

“Well, you’re very uh- hairy. Do you shave your legs?” 

“I- uh. I don’t understand.”

“Well, I just noticed you’ve got a lot of hair on your arms and your shoulders. You should probably shave it, you know?” he said.

Nat and Wanda exchanged shocked and foul looks, rolling their eyes at the man’s remarks. You smiled sarcastically before storming away. Men seriously have nothing but the audacity. You covered your arms and caved yourself in just trying to run from the situation. Before you could head to the elevators you bumped into a strong body. 

“Y/n, I was looking for you- Wow, you look- wow,” he said with wide eyes. He’s never seen you in a dress quite like this. The silk was shining beautifully like your glowing skin and the straps fell from your shoulders making Steve fight the urge to kiss and nip at your soft skin. The color complimented your skin tone incredibly and he was so enamored by your beauty; not that you weren’t always the most beautiful. 

You were angelic. 

“Thanks um, I’m gonna back up now. Not really feeling too hot,” you mean that quite figuratively. 

“What, but the party’s just getting started! I haven’t gotten to dance with you,” he gave that gorgeous smile that would make any woman fall to their knees. 

“Steve-”

“Come on just one dance?” he grabbed your hand. 

“You have to buy me a drink first,” you smirked, dragging him to the bar. Upon arrival, Nat smiled knowingly at you before making your favorite and Steve handed a twenty dollar bill. The later the night got, the more Stark’s guests drunken themselves into a careless party vibe. 

The lights were dimmed and the music grew louder. You finished your drink and Steve raised his brows waiting with a grin on his gorgeous face. You grabbed his hand and made your way to the makeshift dance floor that Tony’s guests had created.

Steve came up behind you with his hands on your hips and swayed with them to the beat of the music. Strangers around him had created quite a sexual tension filled aura that definitely affected you both. Your head was thrown back on Steve’s shoulder and your eyes were closed.

Steve looked around before catching his gaze with Nat’s smirking and nodded as if to tell him to make a move already. He looked down at you again, you were so beautiful in his arms. He ran his nose along the side of your face and sensed your head slowly leaning into him. 

You smiled slowly and Steve pressed a soft kiss to your temple. He kept pressing faint kisses down your neck as his hands trailing up your sides giving your goosebumps. He ran his nose along your shoulder and pressed kisses there too when you suddenly became overwhelmed with insecure questions; what if he notices the hairs? What if he asks the same question? Or worse, what if he gets disgusted by that?

You pushed him off and quickly ran away through the crowd. Confused, Steve chased after you. You walked quickly after leaving the crowd and made your way back to the elevator as you did earlier in the night. Steve was concerned that maybe he might’ve done something you might not wanted and scared you away.

“Hey, hey,” he reached for your arm, of which you quickly retracted.

“Wait, Y/n,” you avoided his eyes as you round the corner towards the elevator. Steve stepped in front of you, pushing your back against the wall caging you with his arms. 

“What happened? I thought- I thought we were you know, having a moment,” he smiled guiltily.

“Steve, I’m sorry but…” you trailed off. 

“Is it me?”

“No! J- Ugh, Steve. Please,” you just wanted to go to your room and cry; you let your insecurities get the best of you once again and ran away from something that could’ve been. 

“Then what is it? Because I like you; I really like you. And I need you to tell me if you don’t feel the same because I’m just gonna think that I did something wrong and that I hurt you; and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did,” he told you.

“You didn’t do anything,” you teared up; you brought his forehead to yours and brushed his nose against yours.

“Growing up people always teased me for my body hair. Guys always told me that I needed to shave my arms because being able to see the hair was gross. I feel so ugly. And that fucking asshole tonight; I really thought he was gonna be different. They’re all the same.”

“Y/n, look at me. You are so fucking beautiful. Everything about you is perfect and I want nothing more than to show you.”

“You don’t think I need to shave,” you pouted. 

“No, and anyone that tells you that, you let me know and I’ll punch them,” he said with a deadpan look making you grin.

“Sorry. No one’s ever said those things to me, about you know,” you cupped his face.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You smiled softly before leaning into him and pressing your lips against his gingerly. You could feel him smile into the kiss and his hands cradled the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said against your lips.

He pulled away and turned around briefly to call the lift. He grabbed your hand and pulled you inside pressing you against the wall to kiss you sloppily. Your chest heaved up and down at his passion and when he pulled away you were left breathless. 

He led you to his room where he was on you in an instant again, your back pressed against his door and his lips on your neck. Your head was thrown back as you basked in the feeling of his lips against your neck. Your hands making home in his hair. 

He pulled your strap down pressing kisses along your shoulder. You tensed a bit out of natural habit but his lips felt so soft and gentle, you relaxed and indulged in his attention. Your finger made work with his baby blue button up that complemented his eyes perfectly and pushed his collar shirt off his broad shoulders. 

You grew a bit of confidence and pushed him off backing him up until he sat on the edge of his bed. When Steve plopped down he couldn’t help the huge grin on his face. His hands went under your dress caressing your thighs with his thumbs waiting for your next move. 

You bit your lip as you slowly untied the string that cinched your waist; unveiling your body to him wearing simply a pair of nude lace panties. You could hear the lustful groan that came from Steve, his eyes wandering your body as if he were memorizing everything about you. 

Hyper aware of your insecurity now that you’ve told him, he noticed the soft hairs that gloss over your skin. He had no problem with it. He thought it was beautiful; especially the little happy trail down your stomach. His hands came up your side and he leaned forward to kiss your belly. You instinctively pulled away and tensed before muttering apologies under your breath. 

“You don’t need to apologize, doll,” he looked up at you. 

He leaned forward again, his lips making contact with your hot skin this time. The eyes he gave were soft yet hungry and you couldn’t help the arousal that pooled between your thighs. He pulled you forward so you sat comfortably on his lap and grabbed your hands in his own. He placed them around his neck turning his head to the side to kiss the inside of your forearm all the way up to your shoulder.

“You are so gorgeous, absolutely ethereal, celestial, heavenly, god I could just look at you all day,” he said, making you grow flustered.

“It’s true, darling.”

“Thank you,” you said with teary eyes. 

Beautiful. Angelic. Divine. Perfect. Steve whispered those words against your burning skin as he turned you over to lay on your back. You kissed him messily before he moved down your body slowly practically peeling your panties from your body. 

The sight of your dripping cunt was enough for Steve’s cock to harden painfully. He stood up eagerily and dropped his pants and boxers surprising you. He was much bigger than you had anticipated and the nerves fluttered in your belly whether he’d fit comfortably or not. 

“You ok?” he rubbed your leg when he saw concern in your face.

“Yeah, you’re uh- you’re really big,” you said, making him chuckle.

“We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable,” he reassured.

“No, I do! I really do,” you said quickly making him laugh harder this time. 

“Here, I think this will make it easier,” he grabbed your hand so you could sit up easily before quickly grabbing a condom and handing it to him. He pulled you close to let you straddle his legs as you did moments ago. He pumped his erect cock for a second before tearing the foil and wrapping it around his girth.

You stood up on your knees and stared into his eyes as you felt his tip at your entrance. You slowly sank down onto him feeling absolutely stretched to your fullest. You and Steve both moaned simultaneously as you took his entire length. You hadn’t even moved yet and Steve could you feel you pulsating around him. 

Your walls were so soft and velvety, Steve knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

“Ugh, baby, you gotta move please,” he moaned.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered. You lifted yourself before returning to settle back down over and over again. 

Steve leaned forward pressing kisses to your breasts whilst holding your waist to steady your bounces. He looked at you with nothing but adoration and devotion relishing in the moment he has with you. You were so goddamn beautiful above him, Steve couldn’t help the quickly approaching release. 

He could feel your wall clenching around him signaling how close you were. You began to grow tired and you were no longer bouncing up and down but rather rocking your hips forward and back now. Doing this stimulated your clit, rubbing against his pelvis and soon enough that had you body shaking in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Steve, I’m coming!” you gripped onto his shoulders. His finger dug into your own flesh surely to leave marks of some sort later and his head was thrown back as he chanted your name like a prayer. 

You pressed your lips against his neck kissing and sucking leaving purple and red marks and bites on him as you reached your climax. Every muscle in your body convulsed and tightened against Steve until you finally felt like you could relax. 

“You were so good, baby girl. So good for me,” he soothed; his hand rubbing and scratching your back gently. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out.

“Sh, I got ya. Relax, baby,” he could feel your slightly trembling body limp against him.

“That was amazing,” you whispered, continuing to press faint kisses on his neck.

“You’re amazing,” he said cheekily. 

“Thank you; for making me feel beautiful again.”

“I’d do anything for you. You deserve the world. You’re so stunning and anyone who wants to say otherwise is just jealous and full of shit,” he said making you grin. 

“You want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly.

“Only if you join me?”

“Deal.” 

======================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

@pluto-grl

[slashersins]

How would the slashers( whoever you would like to do) react to a s/o who left to do something but didn’t tell them.

i already covered what bubba would do in this situation , so let’s do the other slashers !

How would the slashers( whoever you would like to do) react to a s/o who left to do something but didn’t tell them.

jason

do not do this to jason . firstly , you don’t know the woods as well as jason . you have no idea how many or where the traps he has set up are . it’d be just so easy for a bear trap to snag your leg , sending you flying forward in pain and having your head bash against a rock . you could even be followed and hunted by a wild animal , ripe and ready to become their next meal . you could reach the same fate that had killed jason all those years ago and drown in the lake . or someone might come to camp and take you away . for the sake of your safety , do not go out into the forest alone . and for the sake of jason’s sanity , never leave without telling him . the panic and anguish he feels at finding you gone , the desperation and fear that beats against him is almost too much to for him . he’ll be tearing through the camp , wild and furious and desperate as he tries to pick up any trace of you , terror fueling every step , every breath he takes . 

when he does find you , in the middle of some field with a book in your hands , looking lazy and happy . . . he’s torn between hugging you and shaking sense into you . he’ll collapse to his knees before you , tugging you into his large chest and holding you . he’ll try to convey to you that you cannot do this to him again . please . yn , please . he was so scared .

thomas

you weren’t in the house . thomas checked . he was used to seeing you sitting on the couch with monty , maybe finishing up cooking , or even sometimes doing the laundry when he came up for lunch . this time was different . the house was quiet . and tommy couldn’t find you in your usual spots . he’d grunted to monty , asking where you were only to get shut down with a “ i don’t know where the little bitch ran off to . maybe they finally up and left your ugly ass . ” those words angered him as much as they terrified him . he searched over the house , more panicked , stomping and tearing open every shut door . but you weren’t there . not in the house . not in the barn , not in any of the cars hidden out back . thomas even stomped over to henrietta's , quite rudely bursting into the home to search for you , frantic . he ignored the woman’s gasps and shouting about him being a big brute , he had other things on his mind . there was only one place left to look . luda mae’s shop . 

his body was screaming at him , the adrenaline pumping through him and keeping him going wearing out as he stomped ,doing his best to jog to the store . it’s when he’s half way there that he sees a figure in the distance . and the closer he gets the more he can make out . you . it’s you . it’s you , it’s you , it’s you . he’s running now , hot tears of relief welling in his eyes as he all but tackles you , pulling you into a tight embrace as his tired legs finally give you . he pulls away only to touch your face . to feel you . to make sure that you were real . he’s panting , shaking . pulling back to look over your face , eyes searching yours , pleading to know where you were , why you left . why you didn’t tell him . he’s torn between laughing and crying when you say you’d only been delivering lunch to luda . he shakes his head , tugging you to his chest and falling back to the ground for some rest . please don’t do something like that again , y/n . thomas doesn’t know if he could take another scare like that . 

brahms

fear . abandonment . pain . suffering . anger . you must have left when he was sleeping , otherwise he wouldn’t of ever let you leave without begging and forcing promises from you . making you swear that you’d come back , and even then he would have clung to you desperately . but you’d left when brahms was sleeping . and he had no idea where you were , if you were coming back . he stalks to the walls and halls , he shouts and screams and yells . breaking mirrors and furniture , raiding your room and ripping through your closet , through you dresser , trying to find proof that you would be coming back . he clings to these garments , trying to all but suffocate himself in them . 

that’s how you find him . house in disarray , torn apart . brahms passed out on your bed form sobbing , clinging to your clothes like a life line . wake him up gently , kissing the top of his head as you stroke his arm . he’ll start crying again when he sees you , clinging and telling you how scared he was , begging you not to ever leave him again . seeing the man so broken , so vulnerable and desperate makes going out to buy christmas presents seen like a bad idea . 

michael 

he always knows where you are . he follows you . stalks you . obsesses over you . in the house . out of the house . he’s a constant in your life . but . . . there are times when michael is out spending his time stalking prey , taking lives , reveling in his blood lust . and those times are the ones when you come and go as you please , without the constant gaze on your back . and it’s those times that you try and treat yourself . it’s a breath of fresh air , and you’d been hoping for one of these little moments . so with a giddy face you decided that you were going to spend some of your saved money and spoiling yourself in the next town over . you just had to make it back before michael , which should be evening , a little after you usually make dinner . but michael came home before that . 

the eerie quiet of the house had him on high alert . your shoes , your keys , your car all gone . but it didn’t look like you packed any clothes . it didn’t look like you were trying to run away from him . which was a point in your direction . but the fact you left no note , the fact you left at all without michael’s permission or acknowledgement countered it . he waits . he worries , not that he’ll ever admit to it . unmoving eyes  , cold and hard set , he glares at the door . it’s been hours . past the time dinner was made . past the time michael would usually come into the house to eat and wash and then sit and stare at the tv with you while you talked idly into his ear . it was late . and you weren’t home yet . his worry and concern grow , fueling the anger he felt for the entire situation . it didn’t matter where you were . or how long you were gone . you could have came home the minute after michael realized you were gone , and it would have lead to the same thing .

the lights of your car shown through the curtained window . the engine turned off . the sound of your keys at the door . he waited . knowing full and well you weren’t going to make a mistake like this again . 

jesse

the man has cameras everywhere . he’s always watching in some way or another , or if he’s not watching he certainly can see what you’re up to . at least in his own house . he hadn’t been able to talk you into setting up a security system in your apartment yet . honestly he hasn’t been able to talk you into letting him get you a better apartment . and right now he doesn’t know which he needs to take care of first . especially seeing as you weren’t home , truck missing , and weren’t answering your phone . it irritated him . you couldn’t be stupid enough to be cheating on him , but why else would you be ignoring him . he’d only texted seventy times in the last three hours . only called you fifty two - and he was mute . he wouldn’t have been able to say shit , but dammit you could of at least answered ! it’s only fifteen minutes later when he’s telling spann to get to work on finding you . 

it’s an hour and a half later that jesse sees your name pop up on his phone , an incoming call . he answer’s it before it can go through a full ring , silent on his ends as you start talking , apologizing . your phone had died half way through your drive . they needed another worker at a store a towns away and you’d taken the shift last minute . you’d left this morning , running a bit late and forgot to text him . jesse can only breath slow and deep , trying to calm himself . trying not to be angry . it was a stupid mistake on your part . a very stupid mistake . 

he listens as you continue to talk , knowing you will stay on the line till you get home , knowing you already know he’s waiting outside . its’ something the two of you are going to have to have a talk about . this cannot and will not happen again .  he really should have installed a tracker in your phone .

billy & stu

it’s a classic case of “ i thought they were with you ” . it was more their fault for not checking in with you . more their fault for believing you had no life outside of them . why would you ever not be at home ? or with one of them ? but you were with neither . you were out with your family . a little get together that you did once every few months , driving to the city and eating at some random fancier version of ihop or denny’s . it was such a common occurrence that you hadn’t thought to tell either of the boys where you went , or that you were going . but you were sure they’d be fine . after all , they never really seemed bored so long as they had each other . 

billy and stu don’t even realize you’re gone . not at all . they don’t notice until they meet up that night , planning on doing some ghostface fun , when they start talking . and then they go quiet . neither had seen you . or talked to you . suddenly shocked by the fact you had not in fact been with them , they make breakneck speed to your house , climbing up the side wall and trying to force themselves into you room at the same time . you almost laugh as they come stumbling in , asking what was up . 

they won’t admit to having accidentally misplacing you for the day . but they will ask what you spent your time doing . and ask that you tell them if you are spending a day alone or with one of them . not for any reason . not really . 

[slashersins-abandoned]

anonymous asked :

How would the slashers( whoever you would like to do) react to a s/o who left to do something but didn’t tell them.

jason

do not do this to jason . firstly , you don’t know the woods as well as jason . you have no idea how many or where the traps he has set up are . it’d be just so easy for a bear trap to snag your leg , sending you flying forward in pain and having your head bash against a rock . you could even be followed and hunted by a wild animal , ripe and ready to become their next meal . you could reach the same fate that had killed jason all those years ago and drown in the lake . or someone might come to camp and take you away . for the sake of your safety , do not go out into the forest alone . and for the sake of jason’s sanity , never leave without telling him . the panic and anguish he feels at finding you gone , the desperation and fear that beats against him is almost too much to for him . he’ll be tearing through the camp , wild and furious and desperate as he tries to pick up any trace of you , terror fueling every step , every breath he takes .

when he does find you , in the middle of some field with a book in your hands , looking lazy and happy … he’s torn between hugging you and shaking sense into you . he’ll collapse to his knees before you , tugging you into his large chest and holding you . he’ll try to convey to you that you cannot do this to him again . please . yn , please . he was so scared .

thomas

you weren’t in the house . thomas checked . he was used to seeing you sitting on the couch with monty , maybe finishing up cooking , or even sometimes doing the laundry when he came up for lunch . this time was different . the house was quiet . and tommy couldn’t find you in your usual spots . he’d grunted to monty , asking where you were only to get shut down with a “ i don’t know where the little bitch ran off to . maybe they finally up and left your ugly ass . ” those words angered him as much as they terrified him . he searched over the house , more panicked , stomping and tearing open every shut door . but you weren’t there . not in the house . not in the barn , not in any of the cars hidden out back . thomas even stomped over to henrietta’s , quite rudely bursting into the home to search for you , frantic . he ignored the woman’s gasps and shouting about him being a big brute , he had other things on his mind . there was only one place left to look . luda mae’s shop .

his body was screaming at him , the adrenaline pumping through him and keeping him going wearing out as he stomped ,doing his best to jog to the store . it’s when he’s half way there that he sees a figure in the distance . and the closer he gets the more he can make out . you . it’s you . it’s you , it’s you , it’s you . he’s running now , hot tears of relief welling in his eyes as he all but tackles you , pulling you into a tight embrace as his tired legs finally give you . he pulls away only to touch your face . to feel you . to make sure that you were real . he’s panting , shaking . pulling back to look over your face , eyes searching yours , pleading to know where you were , why you left . why you didn’t tell him . he’s torn between laughing and crying when you say you’d only been delivering lunch to luda . he shakes his head , tugging you to his chest and falling back to the ground for some rest . please don’t do something like that again , y/n . thomas doesn’t know if he could take another scare like that .

brahms

fear . abandonment . pain . suffering . anger . you must have left when he was sleeping , otherwise he wouldn’t of ever let you leave without begging and forcing promises from you . making you swear that you’d come back , and even then he would have clung to you desperately . but you’d left when brahms was sleeping . and he had no idea where you were , if you were coming back . he stalks to the walls and halls , he shouts and screams and yells . breaking mirrors and furniture , raiding your room and ripping through your closet , through you dresser , trying to find proof that you would be coming back . he clings to these garments , trying to all but suffocate himself in them .

that’s how you find him . house in disarray , torn apart . brahms passed out on your bed form sobbing , clinging to your clothes like a life line . wake him up gently , kissing the top of his head as you stroke his arm . he’ll start crying again when he sees you , clinging and telling you how scared he was , begging you not to ever leave him again . seeing the man so broken , so vulnerable and desperate makes going out to buy christmas presents seen like a bad idea .

michael

he always knows where you are . he follows you . stalks you . obsesses over you . in the house . out of the house . he’s a constant in your life . but … there are times when michael is out spending his time stalking prey , taking lives , reveling in his blood lust . and those times are the ones when you come and go as you please , without the constant gaze on your back . and it’s those times that you try and treat yourself . it’s a breath of fresh air , and you’d been hoping for one of these little moments . so with a giddy face you decided that you were going to spend some of your saved money and spoiling yourself in the next town over . you just had to make it back before michael , which should be evening , a little after you usually make dinner . but michael came home before that .

the eerie quiet of the house had him on high alert . your shoes , your keys , your car all gone . but it didn’t look like you packed any clothes . it didn’t look like you were trying to run away from him . which was a point in your direction . but the fact you left no note , the fact you left at all without michael’s permission or acknowledgement countered it . he waits . he worries , not that he’ll ever admit to it . unmoving eyes  , cold and hard set , he glares at the door . it’s been hours . past the time dinner was made . past the time michael would usually come into the house to eat and wash and then sit and stare at the tv with you while you talked idly into his ear . it was late . and you weren’t home yet . his worry and concern grow , fueling the anger he felt for the entire situation . it didn’t matter where you were . or how long you were gone . you could have came home the minute after michael realized you were gone , and it would have lead to the same thing .

the lights of your car shown through the curtained window . the engine turned off . the sound of your keys at the door . he waited . knowing full and well you weren’t going to make a mistake like this again .

jesse

the man has cameras everywhere . he’s always watching in some way or another , or if he’s not watching he certainly can see what you’re up to . at least in his own house . he hadn’t been able to talk you into setting up a security system in your apartment yet . honestly he hasn’t been able to talk you into letting him get you a better apartment . and right now he doesn’t know which he needs to take care of first . especially seeing as you weren’t home , truck missing , and weren’t answering your phone . it irritated him . you couldn’t be stupid enough to be cheating on him , but why else would you be ignoring him . he’d only texted seventy times in the last three hours . only called you fifty two - and he was mute . he wouldn’t have been able to say shit , but dammit you could of at least answered ! it’s only fifteen minutes later when he’s telling spann to get to work on finding you .

it’s an hour and a half later that jesse sees your name pop up on his phone , an incoming call . he answer’s it before it can go through a full ring , silent on his ends as you start talking , apologizing . your phone had died half way through your drive . they needed another worker at a store a towns away and you’d taken the shift last minute . you’d left this morning , running a bit late and forgot to text him . jesse can only breath slow and deep , trying to calm himself . trying not to be angry . it was a stupid mistake on your part . a very stupid mistake .

he listens as you continue to talk , knowing you will stay on the line till you get home , knowing you already know he’s waiting outside . its’ something the two of you are going to have to have a talk about . this cannot and will not happen again .  he really should have installed a tracker in your phone .

billy & stu

it’s a classic case of “ i thought they were with you ” . it was more their fault for not checking in with you . more their fault for believing you had no life outside of them . why would you ever not be at home ? or with one of them ? but you were with neither . you were out with your family . a little get together that you did once every few months , driving to the city and eating at some random fancier version of ihop or denny’s . it was such a common occurrence that you hadn’t thought to tell either of the boys where you went , or that you were going . but you were sure they’d be fine . after all , they never really seemed bored so long as they had each other .

billy and stu don’t even realize you’re gone . not at all . they don’t notice until they meet up that night , planning on doing some ghostface fun , when they start talking . and then they go quiet . neither had seen you . or talked to you . suddenly shocked by the fact you had not in fact been with them , they make breakneck speed to your house , climbing up the side wall and trying to force themselves into you room at the same time . you almost laugh as they come stumbling in , asking what was up .

they won’t admit to having accidentally misplacing you for the day . but they will ask what you spent your time doing . and ask that you tell them if you are spending a day alone or with one of them . not for any reason . not really .