#i also just noticed they have a barely visible halo too

[profworminkle]

Some official Xbox 360 gamer pics featuring some worms and a sheep.

[eluminium]

Life Series: Angel's Blessing

...or how killing Skizz seems to lock you into a Top 2 placement.

Welcome to another post where Eluminium goes insane about Skizzleman because the brainrot is consuming me.

So y'all know of the whole "Skizz and the number 3" thing? Well, a part I forgot to mention in the original post was a weird thing relating to Skizz's last deaths. Now Skizz is very good at dying early, he and Jimmy are the only two people who've never made it past session 7. In 3rd Life, he was killed by Grian. In Last Life, he was shot by Ren. And in Limited Life he sacrificed himself to TIES by having Etho kill him.

But.

In (almost) every single death he's had, he's been killed by either the winner of the game or by second place. And the other one (Scar for 3rd Life and Scott for Last Life) was also there to witness it firsthand. Every time. It's not as strong in Limited Life, but it's still there. Who was a witness to Skizz's sacrifice? Impulse. Who came second? Impulse. Martyn didn't witness it nor permakill Skizz, but you could argue that one of the kills Martyn got on Skizz pushed him towards his eventual martyrdom.

 In almost every series, the one to either permakill Skizz or watch Skizz permadie gets top 2. With no fail (so far.) Three times in a row.

Hmmm, well isn't that weird? And it's happened in every series Skizz has been in. And what are the only numbers above three? That's right. One and Two. First and Second. It's almost as if Skizz's weird curse tied to the three works as a blessing for whoever is there to kill him or watch him die. I suppose one man's curse is another man's blessing.

So uhm, petition to call this weird phenomenon "Angel's Blessing." For...obvious reasons. 

Hey I mean, could probably work it into a funny design thing. 

Just imagine Desert Duo in the cactus ring. As they throw punch after punch and speak their woes on how they don't wanna do this, two cracked and barely noticeable triangle-shaped halos (haha get it because three) are hovering over both their heads. As Scar's health starts draining, the halo fades with him, while Grian's only grows stronger, and more stable. Eventually, Grian's fist cracks right through Scar's barely visible golden headpiece, and with that, Scar has no chance. Not that he put up much resistance in the first place.

Just imagine Scott and Ren's final battle. Scott, fresh from his kill on Martyn, with his triangle halo hovering, just taking shot after shot on Ren. With every hit, Ren's halo grows weaker. However, it isn't Scott who smashes the fragile thing into pieces, instead the honor is given to a random zombie, who doesn't care what it just destroyed. When Scott stands victorious, divine lightning strikes and shatters his halo too. 

Just imagine Martyn cutting down Scott first because he knows. He's an observant guy, he's noticed the little gold barely-noticeable triangle floating over Impulse's head. A naive soul would have mistaken it for a trick of the light, but Martyn sees how it cracks as if solid when he ends Scott's life. Scott had to be first, Scott didn't have a halo this time. If Martyn himself looked up, it's quite likely he'd see his own little triangle. Strong, solid, blessed. But the one floating over the demon's head is a broken, helpless, sad little thing uselessly clinging onto hope after being so thoroughly crushed. 

Martyn's brain takes him back for a second. Back to the very first session of this damned death game. Back to that cave, to the rush of the Boogeyman curse, and back to Skizz. As Skizz called him up to give him a sweet compliment, he readied his blade. But all he saw was this poor wingless angel, an angel who had his two snow-white wings hacked off by two boogies barely ten minutes in. All that remained was his halo, and if Martyn wanted to kill Skizz, he would have had to break it...and he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was almost too pathetic. He let Skizz live, let him keep his last piece. And that would be a piece kept until Etho broke it on Skizz's behalf since Skizz never got Boogey killed again.

He couldn't go through with the backstabbing then. It's different now. Much blood-drenched time has passed since.

Now Martyn brings down his axe and lava on his ally, a betrayal he refrained from when this series started. He's numb by now.

When lightning strikes where Scott once stood, he looks over to a shocked Impulse. An Impulse with no armor, an Impulse who won't be able to react in time. Just as helpless and vulnerable as Skizz in that cave. The halo still sits right over the demonic horns, and to kill Impulse, he'll have to break it.

But Martyn is a different man now. Those acts of mercy are long gone. Now, he feels nothing as he mercilessly chases Impulse down and brings his axe through the halo that once made him hesitate. Wrathful, hungry, animalistic.

It's what these worlds do to them. It's what they do to them.

An Angel's Blessing can't guarantee victory. But it can guarantee something better than third. 

And well. For once, the blessing went to Impulse. About time, considering Impulse has watched Skizz permadie every single time. 

Isn't the Life series just full of fun patterns to discover?

btw Skizz said on the podcast today that he has a habit of sometimes kissing Impulse on the cheek when they're reunited. Just a fun fact to cheer you up <3

[magnoliaroad]

Luxe Living Kitchen + Family Room

Hello friends! At long last, I am ready to publish two playscenes from my Petz 5 makeover project. The Luxe Kitchen and Luxe Living playscenes are now available for download. Be sure to check out my blog post below for a behind-the-scenes look at my creation process.

OVERALL AESTHETIC

In making these overhauls, I was going for a luxury living aesthetic featuring gold accents, neutral beiges, and a touch of rococo. Understandably, this may not be everyone's aesthetic! I have ideas for future themes such as cottage core/witch core, dark academia, Barbie, etc. Now that I have done the ground work of making a reusable PSD template of this playscene, making future variations will be much easier because I can quickly swap out the wallpaper, flooring, rug, etc.

KITCHEN

I don't have a lot of notes on the kitchen remodel as it was a relatively straight forward recolor. The window backyard backdrop was replaced with my remodeled version. I added a tile backsplash for a touch of realism. Various components like the sink and its handles were recolored to gold to go with the luxury living theme. The ugly curtains, orange floor, wallpaper, and yellow fridge are all replaced with a more toned-down, neutral look.

I spent the most amount of time cleaning up the curtain and the window sprites as these were poorly done in the original. If you look closely, you can see several pixel defects that never got cleaned up.

BEFORE / AFTER

FAMILY ROOM

Making over the family room was quite the project as it involved editing several animation sprites. Here are my notes on the different parts of the room.

RUG

I know that the rug's perspective is not 100% correct but when I tried to adjust it to better match the perspective of the room, the results were actually worse. Somehow, the "correct" perspective ruined the "cozy, intimate" ambience of the room. It's a little hard to explain but I hope this design choice isn't too immersion-breaking for most people.

FIREPLACE

The boring old red brick was replaced with something a bit more contemporary. Where the brick texture meets the golden grate, I had to edit the edge so that there is a mortar gap. I also edited the fireplace sprites to remove some ugly pixel halos that the original assets had.

MOUSE HOLES

I replaced the default mousehole covers with golden doors to match the Luxury Living theme because I thought our little mice friends deserved an upgrade too! Tremendous thanks to Reflet from the Petz Hacking and Modding discord for helping me figure out how to do this. If you're making a non-overwrite hexed family room, then changing the mouse holes requires an extra step in a hex editor - it isn't enough to just swap out the sprites in Tinker. If you would like to learn how to do this yourself for your own playscene creations, Reflet's solution is posted in the Petz Hacking and Modding discord.

WINDOW + WEATHER EFFECTS

Oh my glob this was a whole project in itself. I swapped out the outdated backyard backdrop with my remodeled versions. But this presented a problem. Replacing the window backdrop meant that I couldn't use the animated rain and snow sprites that came with the original family room. These weather effects were pre-rendered against the old backdrop, making them incompatible with my replacement backdrop. So this meant that I had to craft my own rain and snow effects from scratch, frame by frame. *eye twitch* But if we're being honest, the original weather effects weren't that great looking anyway. The rain is so faint and barely visible and the snow animation left much to be desired.

Moreover, it always bugged me to no end that the original weather animations do not extend to the bottom of the window. Whenever the window is open, there is a noticeable gap where the rain or snow animation abruptly ends. I'm baffled on how this passed quality control testing (or if was there any).

I corrected this in my version of the weather animation by adjusting the size of the animation to extend to the bottom of the window and then fixing the X and Y positioning coordinates of all the frames in Tinker so that the animation was seated in the right spot. (I used the selection tool in photoshop to measure that the window sprite needed to be seated 858 pixels along the X axis from the left, and 56 pixels down the y axis from the top). Additionally, the original window has this odd 2-3 pixel gap at the top of the window which I fixed in my version so that the window properly extends up to the curtain rod.

Unfortunately, I had to remove the window shine from my window frame recolors. For some reason when you import the images into Tinker, Tinker recolors partial transparency to black and ruins it. If anyone discovers a solution to this problem, please do let me know!

I managed to create the rain animation by using an old video effects software called Particle Illusion. I tweaked a pre-existing rain preset and then recorded my screen using Screen-to-Gif to capture the animation, making sure that the screen capture matched the exact pixel dimensions of the window.

I extracted the exact number of frames I needed, made it transparent, and created a layer mask on the left side of the canvas to account for curtain, which clips into the window slightly.

Then I exported these frames as individual pngs and then imported them into Tinker. Thank goodness for photoshop actions and batch editing for performing repeated actions, or else I would have lost my mind.

The snow animation was much more challenging because I couldn't find a good video effect animation I liked - and even if I did, making the animation loop flawlessly would have been nearly impossible. So I hand-made my own using an old school 2D animation technique known as "parallax scrolling". Basically how it works is that I created 3 "conveyor belt" layers of snowflakes, each with a seamless repeating pattern. These three conveyor belt layers would each move independently of each other at a different pace. Conveyor belt 1 would move down slowly at a pace of 1 pixel per frame. Conveyor belt 2 would move down a little faster at a pace of 2 pixels per frame, and conveyor belt 3 would move down the fastest at a rate of 5 pixels per frame. The multiple layers of snowflakes give off the illusion of depth, making it look like some snowflakes are farther away.

In order for this animation to loop seamlessly, I had to calculate (yes, super serious complex petz math) the dimensions of these conveyor belt layers to correspond with the pace at which they would be falling. If conveyor belt 1 was falling at a rate of 1 pixel per frame, my repeating snowflake pattern needed to be about 30 pixels tall because there were 30 frames. The fastest conveyor belt, conveyor belt 3, had to be a pattern that was 150 pixels tall because it would be moving at a pace of 5 pixels per frame over the course of 30 frames so 30 x 5 = 150 pixels.

Once I made these three separate patterns I copied and pasted them downward to make the "conveyor belts" that would move down the window over the lifespan of the animation.

To animate this, I would make a new frame and then I would move layer 1 down 1 pixels, layer 2 down 2 pixels and layer 3 down 5 pixels. Then I created another frame and repeated this again and again until I hit 30 frames. If I messed up anywhere (which I did), I would have to redo the entire animation. It took some experimenting to finally get it all looking correct and looping properly.

I decided to enhance the snow animation further by addressing a longstanding issue with Petz 5's weather effects. It always bothered me that it could be snowing in the game, yet the scenery remained unchanged to reflect the seasons. To improve this, I overlaid my completed snow animation onto the winter version of my backyard backdrop. Now, whenever it snows in the window, the scenery actually shifts to a wintery backdrop. I mean that would just make sense right? It speaks to the sloppy/rushed development for Petz 5 that they didn't make it this way from the get go. If a solo amateur like myself could do it in one weekend, I don't know why a team of developers couldn't. (If I am allowed to humbly toot my own horn for a moment and say so.)

BEFORE / AFTER

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading this! I hope this journal proves to be useful and inspiring for future petz content creators who may want to get into custom content creation and retro game modding. It's been such a therapeutic pet project and I'm looking forward to making more playscenes in the future. The next playscenes on the release radar will hopefully be my 4 seasons backyards. I am still finalizing those and hope to release those as soon as life allows. Thank you for patiently waiting, real life is hectic!

To download the Luxe Kitchen and Luxe Living playscenes, jump over to my main page at Magnolia Road - the download link is under Resources > Playscenes.

[sewerratzz]

hello everyone !! i was Assigned Webby at Blinky’s Rewatch Party, and we made LIBsonas !! i cannot art, so i wrote for her instead :]

meet finch!webby under the cut !!

They stood in the Witchwood Forest, terrified and yet bold, doing their best to hide their fear. They were no stranger to the legends that dwell in these woods, but they had no choice. This was the place with the strongest connection. Well, specifically this clearing, where several trees had been.. not cut down, but seemingly dissolved. They didn't know how this had happened, the edges of the clearing made a sort of octagon, with sides that curved in, and it certainly wasn't natural. No matter, no thinking about it now. They had to go ahead.

No words were needed, this wasn't a summoning like it would be for the others. It was a call, with something maybe once known, in another place, or another time. They closed their eyes, opened their mind, and felt the clearing out with their senses. It was strange, if they thought about it, using the senses that the others had a hold over to call for this one. They felt every blade of grass, swaying gently with the breeze, every rock and stick, everything until each end of the clearing, they felt it in their mind. And then they saw it there.

Looking around this impression of the clearing, they couldn't see their own body. It was strange, but any thought that could have been made was cut short, by a sudden heavy breeze. The leaves of the trees lining the clearing whipped fervently, the blades of grass shook, and the air was loud. A light-no, that wasn't a light. It was simply pure white. Something they didn't have a word for. Even just calling it pure white didn't do enough to explain how nothing, and yet everything, it was. A figure emerged from it, eyes closed, hands outstretched like a statue of an angel. Only missing the halo and wings.

Then, the eyes shot open, and with them, two more sets below opened as well, all completely black. There were.. mandibles, on the figure's face.

“Who seeks my presence in this domain?" Her voice was commanding, low and yet projecting. It sounded like a Queen's voice.

But when the White was gone, and their eyes adjusted, they could make out more of the thing standing before them. She wore a white corset over a white dress shirt, purple-pink webs covering the corset. The webs were shimmering, moving on their own. The shirt had sleeves that went to her elbow, then transitioned into long flowing pieces of silk. they also had webs on them, though these ones were black on the white translucent fabric. She wore a white petticoat, that also seemed to have webs, but they were white too, barely visible unless they looked closer and took notice of the shimmering. Her shoes were flat sandal types, with ties that wrapped around her shins, making a pattern that hurt to try and understand, until they stopped at her knees. There was no knot, they just simply stayed up.

Her skin was dark, her hair was white and curly, and sat weightlessly, so much so it could have been floating, on top of her head was a simple crown. Nothing fancy, just a silver circlet with spikes, topped with black obsidian. She was.. something to look at, that's for sure. More arms appeared, and extra shirt sleeves with them, as if it had never been any different.

After a long minute of silence, the spider queen smiled.

“Hi!" She said excitedly. "I'm so glad you've come! I adore meeting the holders of my Gift."

[cosmic-nonconstant]

Can I offer you Vampire!Barb in this trying time?

Eddie wakes up.

That in itself is a surprise because the last thing he remembers is being vigorously chewed up by a swarm of demon bats. And maybe Dustin was there.

He hopes not. Would kind of defeat the whole heroic sacrifice thing.

(Jesus, he hopes Dustin is okay. He hopes they’re all not dead.)

Also surprising: He’s not in any pain. 

He could almost believe the whole ‘eaten alive’ thing was a dream or a hallucination or something, except his clothes are definitely torn up and soaked with blood. Like, an insane amount of blood. His blood. 

Some of it has dried now, stiff and dark. Like it’s been there for a while.

So… that’s pretty weird.

Disappointing but not surprising: He’s still in the goddamn Upside Down. The murky, dark sky stretches above him, shifting with its eerie glow and occasionally spitting out red lightning.

“It’s about time you woke up,” says someone next to him.

Eddie is so startled he actually jumps to his feet. Which is way easier than it should have been given all the blood that is no longer in his body, but he ignores that for now. 

A woman stands a few feet away and she is… beautiful, but really freaky looking.

Her own tattered clothes are covered with deep stains and splotches of blood or Upside Down muck or both. It’s in her hair too, which is even longer than Eddie’s, although the tangled curls haloing her face and spilling over her shoulders are muck-free enough that he can see the color: bright red.

Honestly too bright. Too, like, alive compared to everything else down here.

Her face is round and grayish-pale and marked with black lines like forks of lightning that he abruptly realizes are veins. They’re visible up and down her bare arms too, and across her stomach where her morbidly stained shirt is torn.

And her eyes... they're entirely solid black. The whole eye, not just the middle part.

She looks ethereal, and deadly. Like an angel from hell.

Like if a balrog was a person.

Like artwork that crawled off of a really awesome album cover to wreak destruction in the real world.

She also looks kind of familiar... 

Eddie asks, “Who the hell are you?” Which is a very reasonable question, and more polite than what he really wants to ask which is: What the hell are you??

She rolls her freaky eyes before taking a moment to examine the nails on her right hand—which Eddie notices aren’t so much nails as they are claws extending monstrously from her fingertips (long, razor sharp, definitely bloodstained).

“I serve the one you call Vecna,” she intones dramatically. Then she rolls her eyes again and scoffs, “And now you do too, which means I’m stuck with you.”

Well, that is an utterly terrifying thing to say. She just seems kind of annoyed, though. And bored.

“What do you mean ‘now I do too’?” Eddie demands, hears his voice crack with his rising panic. 

She just turns impatiently and stalks away, her wild hair briefly swooping around her like it’s caught in a wind that isn’t there, and says, “Let’s go.”

Go with her. 

Eddie yelps out loud in surprise. The command isn’t something he hears, either out loud or in his own mind, it’s like he just… knows it, somehow. And then his feet are moving, trailing after the cranky monster woman against his will.

Not in the direction of his trailer, or the Creel house. Somewhere else.

Actually dying might have been less scary than whatever the fuck is going on here.

[doors-to-infinity]

DP x DC crossover, likely set in the Wayne Family Adventures verse. (I love the character dynamics there.)

For the set-up, Danny's class is on an excursion in Gotham. Danny looks like any other average human in Duke’s vision, maybe a little brighter. So does the rest of the class. (Phantom, on the other hand... :) no telling.)

This spiraled from a plot bunny that Danny gets a crush on Signal who saved him from a mugging. Duke is just that kind and wonderful and it reflects in how he acts and feels to those around him.

Also, the clouds literally drifted apart behind Signal and the sun put a halo of light around him when he saved him. Dazed from his sudden crush and thinking for a moment that he met an angel, Danny doesn’t notice that he lost some things from his bag in the scuffle. This includes a dangerous Ghost Zone artifact he didn’t have time to bring back to Amity and through the portal. It’s possibly so old that barely even anyone in the Ghost Zone remembers what it does.

It’s not there where he was mugged, when he later sneaks out as a ghost to look. Danny now is on a time limit to find Signal again, who is his only lead, and get the artifact back before its powers destroy Gotham. (Or a different dangerous effect.) Hoping that he won’t make a bad impression on Signal or the Bats.

How is he supposed to explain how he got this artifact if they notice that it’s magic?! How is he supposed to keep his identity safe?

(It also might be that Danny wants to speak to Signal again. Just a bit.)

Duke did indeed pick the artifact up and took it with him. His powers let him see its magic / power, but now from what it’s glowing in his vision.

If you want to make the story more complicated and add more mystery, somebody recognizes it’s an artifact but mistakes what kind it is. Maybe even a magic user does that. Not many people would think ‘Ghost Zone’ at first if they had no knowledge about the place.

Add some speculation where it came from, if there’s speculation on the kid Duke saved and if he had the item in possession, etc. Duke’s training and flexing his detective skills here.

Meanwhile, the artifact’s influence is spreading across Gotham. Not from the Batcave / the Wayne Mansion, and neither are the effects that visible yet, because that’d be too easy. It just feels like another day in Gotham. It takes a while before anybody notices that something is wrong.

Duke can’t see the magic. From day one, the artifact has kept glowing in the same way. He does eventually gain the ability to spot the affected people and locations, though, and becomes one among the very few people who can navigate the dangerous effects and save the day.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

--

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

--

masterpost

-

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

[kimvvantae]

puzzle; 8 (FINAL)

➜  you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst, comedy; friends with benefits au; college au

warnings: lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex

rating: 18+

word count: 16k

A/N: finally the last chapter! i am actually feeling very emotional right now. i enjoyed writing puzzle so much and it received so much love since the beginning! your feedback always kept me motivated to write. thank you so much to everyone that followed these two dorks and waited patiently for every update. i hope we can meet again in future works! 

hmmm, a little rec?? but i listened to sweet night by taehyung as i wrote this chapter. maybe listening to it will enhance your experience too!

enjoy!

➜  Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

You don’t know how long it has been until Taehyung finds you.

It’s cold. The tears have finally come to a halt, but you’re still sobbing and sniffling. You should probably get up and go home. It’s late. Not safe to be alone on the street like this. You should probably call an uber or something. 

Yet, every time you think of Jungkook’s tears, it seems that your own eyes well up with tears all over again.

What makes you snap back into reality is the sound of shoes walking down the stairs.

You get up in a jump, feeling your legs ache in the process, and turn around to see the person you least expected to see right now. Taehyung stops some steps ahead. The light pole behind him marks his silhouette with a halo.

“I finally found you,” he says after a few seconds. He sounds hesitant but somehow relieved. 

It makes your heart clench even more.

You make an immense effort to speak, as if words ran over inside your throat and made it stuck. Well, they did, in a sense.

“Taehyung, w-what…?” is all you can stutter. You don’t really need to finish the sentence. What are you doing here? Why did you come after me even though I hurt you?

He looks down and caresses the back of his neck. You notice that he’s nervously fiddling with his car keys on the other hand. Oh. He probably didn’t want to be around you, either.

“Well, you ran away down the street like that. I got worried.”

You shouldn’t.

“It’s… not safe to be by yourself on the street like this. I’m taking you home.”

Please, don’t be kind to me. 

It will be much harder if you’re being kind to me.

“Taehyung, I…” you feel yourself squeezing your purse against you, just as nervous as he is. You don’t want to bother him with your presence anymore. “I was about to call an uber. You don’t need to…”

“It’s alright. I’m already here anyway.” He starts to walk up the stairs again without looking back. Without giving you a chance to disagree. “Let’s go.”

It seems that your legs forgot how to walk as you watch him. You don’t want to get inside his car. You don’t want to face him, not right now. 

When Taehyung reaches the top of the stair alley, he finally looks back at you in silence. 

That’s when you realize that you have to face him. You were never one to run away from the consequences of your actions.

The newest consequence is staring back at you in quiet sadness.

You inhale deeply before going after him.

An awful silence hovers in the air during the entire ride home.

You can’t help but shrink on the passenger’s seat, hugging your own arms tight, your head leaning on the window. Taehyung does not make any attempt to engage a conversation. His presence is suffocating.

Something cold sets in your stomach when he parks the car in front of your apartment’s building. There’s nothing out there to distract you anymore. Nowhere else to run to.

You inhale again.

“Thank you.” you say softly. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything as he rests his hands on his lap. You watch him intently as he gulps, his eyes glued in something ahead.

“So.” He starts, his voice as low as yours. This is painful. It was never your intention to put him in that situation, never. “I don’t want to take a drunk man seriously.”

It’s your turn to gulp. You really really don’t want to explain everything to him in detail. “Mike is a son of a bitch. He got it all wrong.”

“It seems that he got one thing right, though. Judging by Jungkook’s reaction.”

It’s getting difficult to breathe again.

Taehyung turns his head slowly to look at you.

“Are you guys…?”

You honestly feel like jumping out the window, but your feelings for Taehyung make you stay still. He’s a kind friend. He deserves to hear it clearly.

So you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Jungkook and I, we… we were never a real thing. Not really.” It hurts to say this out loud. It seems that you can still hear his broken voice…

There was never anything real happening, right? We were never real.

“B-But recently I realized that I have feelings for him.”

Taehyung nods slowly and sinks on the driver's seat. He rests his chin on his hand, letting a shaky deep breath out.

“Why did you call me today, then?”

“To tell you the truth.”

He gasps softly and shakes his head again. Taehyung has completely broken eye contact with you and his body language looks protective - building an almost visible wall between you and him in seconds.

“Wow. It seems that I was the one who got it all wrong.”

You feel like touching him to give him even a little bit of comfort, yet you know that you’re his main discomfort in the moment. You turn your body in his direction, pleading.

“Taehyung, it wasn’t meant to happen this way. I didn’t want to hurt you, not at all. I know that an apology won't be enough...”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He cuts you. His voice sounds strange, so different from how he has ever talked to you. He’s very quiet, but you can feel the anger and hurt lying underneath. “We never had anything anyway. I was the delusional one here.”

No, not again. You don’t think you can take more guilt for one night. You didn’t just delude him going on that date; you deluded him every time you talked, every time you texted each other. Taehyung saw something more when there was nothing at all - he felt something more, and you were too confused with your own feelings for Jungkook to notice what you were doing.

“Taehyung…”

“I’m feeling very ashamed right now.” He admits with a shaky exhale. “Could you…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you know very well what he meant. Leave.

You nod and open the door into the cold night. You still stand there on the sidewalk hesitantly for a few seconds before whispering a shy “I’m sorry”. Taehyung doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.

When you shut the door, you know very well that from now on, your friendship with Taehyung is also shut. 

You’ll miss him really bad.

It feels like you can barely carry the weight of your own body as you slowly make your way to your apartment - which is weird, because you feel empty right now. 

Your apartment isn’t as empty as you expected when you open the door, though. Seulgi is standing on the kitchen counter and she smiles wide when she sees you. She looks excited in a way she hasn’t been in months; it seems that she’s about to say something.

Her smile dies as she sees your puffy face and your red nose and eyes. 

“Y/N, what happened…?”

For some reason, when you look at her, you start crying again.

Seulgi wides her eyes and runs to where you’re standing, shocked and confused - probably because you have never cried in front of her yet. Never. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! What happened?!”

You can’t answer because the sobs won’t let you. You can just rest your face on Seulgi’s shoulder as she hugs you, patting your back. She is so confused that she can’t really think of anything else to do.

After a few minutes of restless crying, Seulgi manages to lead you to sit on the couch and runs back to the kitchen to take a glass of water. She sits by your side and hands you the glass, caressing your hair sweetly.

“Can you talk now, babe? What happened?” She asks again quietly as you try to drink a little bit of water.

You wipe the tears away once again and sniff. This place reminds you of him way too much. It feels that he belongs here, even though it’s not his home. And maybe… maybe he won’t ever step inside, ever again.

“I-It’s J-Jungkook.” it’s hard to speak between the sobs.

“Did you guys fight?” You nod weakly. “Was it that bad?”

Yes. Yes, it was.

After months of pretending, you finally open up to Seulgi. There’s no reason to keep this from her anymore. After Mike’s scandal, that’s probably everything the whole campus will be talking about in the next few days (you saw a lot of familiar faces at the bar).

It seems that Seulgi’s eyes will pop out of her face as you speak.

She stares at you, jaw dropped in pure shock.

“You and Jungkook what?!” is the first thing she exclaims. “Since when?!”

You rest your back on the couch and gaze at the ceiling. The sobs have finally stopped, at least. “Do you remember when I broke up with Mike? When we went to that club?”

“Yes, and you spent the night out…” Seulgi trails off as realization hits her. She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “That guy you were talking about was Jungkook?!”

You just nod.

Seulgi gasps and rests her back on the couch right by your side, your arms touching. She’s speechless for a while.

“But, like… how many times?”

“I don’t know.” She gasps again.

“That many times?”

You nod. “It was almost daily at some point.”

It seems that she can’t close her jaw anymore. “Where?”

“Here. His apartment. His car.” You frown. “Sometimes a cheap hotel downtown, when you and Jimin were both home.”

Seulgi stays quiet for a little longer.

You side eye her. “You didn’t suspect?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I thought you guys were acting strange for a while now, but I never thought this was going on.” She looks back at you. “Did someone know?”

“Jimin caught us once.” you decide to omit where he caught you. It’s embarrassing to say that you fucked inside Joy’s bathroom out loud and it makes you feel even worse. “But he promised to not tell anyone."

Back to silence. You can almost hear the engines inside Seulgi’s brain trying to process everything you just told her.

“But why did you guys fight?”

You take a deep breath before telling her the rest. Taehyung, Joy, Mike, Yeri. It’s quite painful to explain, but it’s also relieving.

If you thought Seulgi looked shocked before, now it looks like she just found out that Santa is real.

She completely turns her body in your direction, eyes super wide. “Do you like Jungkook?”

You nod softly, staring at your own fingers.

“It’s more than just liking him.” You admit sheepishly.

Then she’s quiet for a long, long time. You decide to finally look up at her.

Now you’re surprised.

“Why the hell are you smiling?”

Seulgi hides her mouth with both hands - as if this wouldn’t let you see the big ass grin on her lips. “I’m sorry. It’s… it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you quirk one eyebrow. “My suffering is cute to you?”

“That’s not what I mean.” she waves her hand dismissively. “I always kind of shipped you two, okay? It’s just that you two looked really good together and you always had such good chemistry and all. But I tried to stop thinking this because, you know, I thought it was wrong to assume that a man and a woman can’t be just friends… and it never looked like you had feelings for him, not at all.”

You stare at her as if she has a second head growing now. “You shipped us?”

“You can’t judge me.”

You cross your arms and sink on the couch even more. This is kind of shocking. “You never thought I liked him?”

Seulgi shakes her head. “Never. Jungkook, though…”

You turn your head to look at her so fast that your neck almost breaks. “What about him?”

She hesitates a little bit before speaking. “Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.” 

There it is again. The fast beating of your heart. It’s ridiculous that, even though you’re this miserable, you still feel this spark of happiness inside of you. 

For fuck’s sake, Y/N! I’m in love with you!

You press your lips tight in an attempt to hold back the uninvited smile. It’s not appropriate to feel happy now; it feels that you don’t even have the right to feel happy at all. But his confession is hitting you just now. Hitting you like a truck. 

God, if only you could go back in time. If only you could just make him shut the fuck up and listen to you. Why did he have to be so damn dramatic? 

I love you too, dumbass! Now stop being a cry baby and kiss me!

What if Jungkook never gives you a chance to explain yourself? He can be hard-headed when he wants to. What if Jungkook never lets you get close to him again, what if your intimacy finally dies, what if you get so distant that when you’re in the same room you can’t bear each other’s presence anymore? What if from now on, there won’t be any Jungkook to steal your fries when you’re not looking, or to let you steal his clothes even though he pretends he doesn’t know you’re taking them, or to help you understand a difficult assignment, or to annoy you because he’s bored at 4AM, or to tell you the things no one else would be brave enough to tell you or to just be there when you needed someone the most?

Your brain can’t even comprehend what life without Jungkook is.

A mix of despair and hurry makes you get up in a jump.

“I’m going to his apartment.��� Your breath is irregular, adrenaline taking control of your actions. “I-I need to talk to him now.”

“Hey, hey!” Seulgi gets up in a jump and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to stop. “Y/N, you’re not okay. And you said Jungkook is drunk. Do you really think you’ll manage to have a civilized conversation right now? He’s probably still angry, maybe he won’t even listen to you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll shout on his door until he listens to me.”

Seulgi holds you in place again when you try to free yourself from her grip. “This is not a good idea and you know it.” She looks at you very seriously. “Take a shower, Y/N. Go to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll both be cold-headed and able to talk.”

“B-But,” you feel the tears coming back. Fuck. You hold Seulgi’s arms weakly. “But he needs to know the truth. He needs to know I like him back.”

The black-haired girl frowns. “Like him back…?”

You nod and look down. “He… he said that he’s in love with me.”

“Really?!” Seulgi huffs and taps your forehead lightly. “Then why are you so desperate?! He loves you back, dummy!”

“But I’m scared, Seulgi.” You sniff.

She rolls her eyes and pushes you into another hug. “Everything will be okay, Y/N. There’s no need to be worried. You already know the most important. Tomorrow you go talk to him, alright?” She chuckles softly. “Never thought I’d see you acting like this.”

You sniff again. “Now you understand how it is to deal with a stupid lovesick roommate.”

“Ouch.” You notice how she pats your back a bit aggressively. “But for real, Y/N… I’ll always be thankful for what you did today to me and Irene. Even though it was none of your business. And I’ll probably beat you up if you ever intervene in my life like that again-”

“Wow, I really see how you’re thankful, Seul.” She chuckles again.

"And I'm kind of offended that you hid this from me for so long."

"We promised we wouldn't tell anyone about this!"

"Alright, alright." She sighs. “I love you so much, you crackhead. And Jungkook loves you, too. You don’t need to be sad anymore, okay? Just take a shower and go to sleep now.”

You nod weakly.

Maybe she’s right. You’ll have enough time to talk to him tomorrow.

But you don’t think you’ll get any sleep right now.

***

[you]: jungkook

[you]: can we talk?

[you]: we really really need to talk

[you]: can i go to your place?

[you]: please

[you]: i know you’re reading 

[you]: stop ignoring me

[you]: jungkook

[you]: JUNGKOOK

You sigh heavily. This is so frustrating. He didn’t even leave you on read - you’re sure he’s just reading the texts on the notifications and swiping them away. He didn’t block your number, which is a good sign, but this is already getting on your nerves. You’ve been texting since early in the morning (because you couldn’t sleep) and it’s already 5PM.

“He’s ignoring my texts.” You whine to Seulgi as you enter the living room. 

“You said he had things to do today, right? Maybe he’s actually busy.” She says as she checks her makeup on the mirror. It’s been a long time since you saw her getting all pretty like this; she did her nails, made curls on her hair, put on that green skirt she bought months ago but never wore it. This is what being happy and in love looks like. Pretty, well-dressed, nice hair, healthy skin and all.

Meanwhile, your hair looks like a bird nest, you’re wearing the ugly Naruto t-shirt you have since middle school, your entire face is swollen and you have bags under your eyes. This is also what being in love looks like, unfortunately.

“Why don’t you just go to his apartment already?”

“You told me not to do it.”

“I told you not to do it yesterday. Today he’s not drunk anymore.”

You cross your arms. “I’m… I’m still kind of nervous.”

Seulgi turns around and looks at you and quirks her eyebrow. There’s the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “I never thought I’d see you nervous because of anyone. You look like a teenager…”

"I swear to God, if you say that you think I look cute one more time I'll fucking kill you."

Seulgi laughs and runs to you again, putting her hands on your shoulders. "Y/N, do you remember how you were always telling me that I was complicating simple things?"

"Yes."

She lifts her eyebrows. "So."

You roll your eyes and huff. "But it's not that easy!"

"Now you understand how I felt, huh?" Her eyes soften again. "For real, though. If you show up at his door he won't ignore you, I'm sure. Just go."

You sigh again and nod. "You're right. Just… let me build some courage, okay?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She looks a bit worried. "I could go out with Irene another day."

"No, no. Go on your date." You wave your hands. "I'm not gonna die. Also, your pussy must be dusty after so long-"

She smacks your shoulder a bit too strongly as you let yourself laugh for the first time today. 

When Seulgi leaves, you still stand in the middle of the living room for a good while. Like a Sim whose action has just been cancelled.

Whoever is playing you is really evil for putting all the wrong people in the wrong places past night.

You know that you’re not being rational. You should have gone to his house a long time ago… but something holds you back. Perhaps because now there’s no turning back. You know what you feel for Jungkook and you know what he feels for you - your relationship got completely out of its comfort zone, and now you can’t even pretend anymore. Things won’t ever be the same. 

Maybe Jungkook is ignoring you because he’s embarrassed of what Mike did. He basically exposed you two in front of his friends. Sure, that’s none of no one’s business, but still… Jungkook didn’t want anyone to know about it in the first place.

You stare at your phone for a good while. Your reflection on the phone’s screen stares back at you in disgust.

For the hundredth time today, you unlock it and open Jungkook’s number. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard hesitantly.

[you]: jungkook i know youre mad at me and you have all the rights to be but

You frown and delete the text. It doesn’t sound good.

[you]: can you stop being dramatic and just text me back already?

You feel tempted to send this one, but if Jungkook’s angry, this will only make the situation worse. You sigh and try again one more time

[you]: i just really want to talk. you didnt let me speak last night. i know youre probably busy but please. i wont take much of your time

This one sounds about right. You tap the send button.

Then, your fingers mindlessly type one more text. It makes your heart beat fast just looking at it.

[you]: i love you too

You want to send this one so bad.

But you don’t.

Because this isn’t something to be told by text.

Coward! the angry voice of your consciousness yells in your mind. Stop being a coward! You’re an evolved human being, not a stupid teenager! Get this ass up the couch and go meet him!

You get up in a jump.

“I’m not a coward!” you say out loud. If you weren’t this out of your mind, you would have noticed how stupid it was to scream encouraging words by yourself in the living room.

But you don’t care right now.

You don’t care that your face is all puffy and the dark circles around your eyes make you look like a raccoon. You don’t care that you’re wearing your ulgy Naruto t-shirt with old ketchup stains, and you don’t care that you’re wearing the sweatpants that fall down your butt as you walk, and you don’t care that your hair looks like a living animal.

You just straight out leave your home and march to his. Flip flops and all.

Your heart beats at a stupid race as you walk, the sun already disappearing behind the buildings. The anxious part of your brain keeps reminding you that you don’t know what to say when you meet him and you don’t know what his reaction will be, but you shut this whiny voice up. Being with Jungkook always meant that you didn’t have to think a lot in the first place. Being with him is natural, it takes no effort. When you see him you’ll know what to say. You’re sure.

Yet, you can’t help but feel more and more nervous as you enter his apartment building (you never needed to ask permission to enter). You close your hands in fists, gulp multiple times, your heartbeat sounds like drums on your ears.

Your hand hovers over the door.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. It’s real. It’s happening. Come on. Don’t be a coward.

After taking one more deep breath, you finally knock on the door.

There’s noise inside. Steps. Fuck, you’re shaking.

You hear the sound of the door unlocking and you hold your breath ready to face him-

Jimin.

He widens his eyes and blinks.

“Oh. Hi, Jimin.” you say awkwardly. Why is he looking at you this way? “Hm, is Jungkook home?”

Jimin looks hesitant for a moment.

“No.”

It’s your turn to widen your eyes. So that’s why he isn't texting you back. This makes you a bit relieved.

“Is… is he working?” You can’t hide your disappointment.

“Not yet. He starts tomorrow.”

You put your hands on your waist and walk from side to side as Jimin just watches you in silence.

“Jimin, at what time he’ll be home tomorrow? Do you think it’ll be too late in the night? I really need to talk to him, but that fucker keeps ignoring my texts.”

You don’t like the face Jimin is making now.

You really don’t like it.

He scratches the back of his neck and frowns. “He… he didn’t tell you?”

This makes you stop.

“Tell me what?”

Jimin exhales and gulps.

“He told you that he’ll start working for Mr. Choi, right? That director.”

“Yes.” Each word of his makes you more and more worried. 

“So… this project he’s involved in…” Jimin licks his lips before continuing. “It’s overseas.”

You stare at him in silence as this information sinks in.

“Overseas?! Are you telling me he fucking left the country?!”

“Yes.”

You can’t believe what you just heard.

“B-But- yesterday Jungkook and I were planning to go out! This makes no sense!”

“Well,” Jimin looks hesitant again. “In fact, his flight is tomorrow morning, but he left earlier because we kind of had an argument.” He sends you an apologetic gaze. “He was drunk yesterday and all and I was trying to calm him down and I might have accidentally let it slip that I knew about you two, and this kinda pissed him off even more because, well, he was drunk and you know how Jungkook gets stupid when he’s drunk, so I think he left to his parent’s house and he’ll head to the airport tomo- wait, are you crying?!”

You sniff and hide your face behind your hands.

“Oh my God,” Jimin sounds confused and borderline panicked as he watches you start sobbing again. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“B-Because h-he-!” you can’t fucking speak anymore.

Jimin puts a hand on your back and guides you to sit on the couch. He brings some tissues and pats your back awkwardly as you cry and sob like stupid. 

“W-Why didn’t he tell me he was l-leaving?” you ask yourself. 

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, it’s not like he’s leaving forever. It’s just for this project. He’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“B-But he would’ve told me something so important!” You blow your nose. Jimin frowns. “I didn’t know this project was so huge! What, is it a movie or something?”

“It’s a music video.” You stare at Jimin in disbelief. “Jungkook has been around the recording studio with Namjoon and Yoongi a lot. He ended up meeting Mr. Choi, who has been directing some music videos for Big Hit Records’ artists. He liked Jungkook’s work and invited him to work as an assistant… I mean, the assistant of the assistant, as Jungkook himself said.”

You exhale, feeling your shoulders drop. “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

Jimin’s eyes soften. “Your friendship hasn’t been in the best shape these days, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

You rest your elbows on your legs and hide your face behind your hands again. You didn’t want to be crying this bad again, yet you just can’t stop. You don’t even know why you’re crying anymore. Jimin just caresses your back in silence as your sobs start quieting down.

“You were right,” you say at some point.

“What?”

“When you told me not to hurt him. I was hurting him and I didn’t even realize. I’m so stupid.”

Jimin tilts his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Y/N. You were both stupid.” You side eye him.

“Jungkook said that he’s in love with me.” This makes him quirk his eyebrows.

“Oh.”

“You don’t look very surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Did… did he tell you?”

“No.”

“Was it that obvious?”

Jimin presses his lips together hesitantly. “Do you want me to comfort you or do you want me to be honest?”

“Be honest.”

“It was pretty fucking obvious that he’s in love with you. At least for me.” 

You exhale and swipe your hands over your face. “I’m so stupid!” you repeat.

“Look, Y/N, to be honest, I think Jungkook is the most stupid. He was torturing himself with this fuck buddies thing, you know? He agreed to it in the first place. Everyone knows that this type of thing shouldn’t involve feelings, but he was the one to throw himself into it while he already had feelings.”

“It’s not like he’s the only one, though.”

Jimin seems about to say something, but he stops and stares at you, jaw-dropped.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

You rest your back on the couch. “I mean that I was also stupid enough to throw myself into it while having feelings.”

He’s quiet for a few more seconds.

“Do you mean that you like him back?”

You don’t answer. 

Much like Seulgi, it looks like Jimin just discovered something world-shocking. “Since when? Have you liked him since the beginning?”

You sigh sadly.

“No, I haven’t. To me, it was just fun. Until I realized that he was getting too far from my reach and- and I realized that Jungkook has never been too far, never, and I don’t know what to do when he’s not around.” You sniff. You’re not talking to Jimin anymore at this point; you’re talking to yourself. “Y-You know, now that I think about it, I… I guess I understand why it was always so good. Not just because he fucks good or because of his big dick-”

“I don’t need to hear this, do I?” Jimin whines in disgust.

“-but because it was him.” One more tear rolls down your cheek. “It was good because it was with him.”

The way you always felt comfortable to be naked in front of him. How it was always lighthearted and fun and exciting. You had good sex with other people before, but never like this. Maybe because these other people didn’t have Jungkook’s handsome smile or because their eyes didn’t gleam with excitement the way his does or because they didn't smell like baby powder. Or maybe because it was never scary to be exposed in front of him because he already knew everything about you - there wasn’t really anything else to expose. 

Jungkook felt like home.

Now, you feel homeless.

You wipe the tears away once more and look at Jimin-

“Why are you smiling?”

Doesn’t this scene look familiar?

“I’m sorry, it’s just that- wow, I don’t even know what to say.” Jimin doesn’t even try to hide his smile. “I’ve been waiting so long for this. Like, I kind of suspected that you had feelings for him, but I couldn’t be sure because you’re a hard bitch to read. To be honest, when I saw what you two were doing I wanted to kill you because you couldn’t be this blind to not realize how he feels about you-”

“Can you stop being honest for a moment?”

“Oh.” Jimin gulps, but he can’t stop smiling. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh again and cross your arms. “What if he never lets me explain myself, Jimin?”

“Stop the drama.” Jimin’s voice hardens suddenly. “You two are very similar in this sense, you know? I’m sure that Jungkook will listen to whatever you have to say. And he’ll be away for just four days! It’s not like he’s leaving forever.”

You sit there in silence for some moments. You’re sure that if you tell that you’re scared to talk to Jungkook, he will probably beat you up. He never had that much patience.

Jimin exhales heavily and gets up. “Wait a minute.” You watch as he walks into Jungkook’s empty bedroom, frowning. He stays there for a little while. When he comes back to the living room, he stops in front of you and hands you something.

“Jungkook’s gonna kill me when he finds out, but I don’t care.” 

“What is this-?”

“Just take it already. And watch it when you’re back home. It’s so personal that I got uncomfortable the first time I watched it.”

“Then why are you giving it to me-?”

“Just fucking take it, Y/N!”

You take the small device before Jimin makes you swallow it. 

He smiles sweetly.

“Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t worry. I’m always right.”

You stare at the small black pen drive in between your fingers.

This time, you genuinely hope he’s right.

You had honestly forgotten how it feels to get drunk. 

At the same time that the dizziness feels familiar, it's also hitting you like a truck. Your friends didn't believe you when you said that you'd stop drinking, yet you've been loyal to your word. Of course, it's not like you didn't drink anything in all those months, but a single beer isn't the same as a pack of beer.

The way your body's responding to the alcohol in your system isn't right. Your stomach is already tangling around itself, you can't walk a straight line from the couch to the kitchen counter without feeling that there's holes opening on the floor, and your thoughts are more incomprehensible than usual. You'd usually not get drunk so fast - and surely not with just beer. You're the girl that was still very sober after many tequila shots that time a random date of yours was trying to get you drunk - he ended up drunk after a few shots, of course, and you left the son of a bitch alone while he vomited on himself.

Being in love sure has changed you a lot.

Look, it's not the first time you drink to forget about your problems. You've been doing that since high school and you're tired of hearing Jungkook say how this behavior is unhealthy (he's right, as usual). This time, though, you're not forgetting about your problems, you're just thinking about them more.

It doesn't help that you're listening to Seulgi's playlist on Spotify called "i miss you irene." You laughed your ass off when you found out she really made a heartbreak playlist and named it like that. "You're torturing yourself, Seulgi," you told her. I mean, why would someone sad listen to songs that will only make them more sad?

Well.

Here you are now, laying on the carpet as Spending my Time by Roxette is blasting on the speakers.

People really knew how to write heartbreak songs back in the 90s.

"Fuck you, Jungkook." you mumble, staring at the ceiling. "I'm shoving alcohol up my ass. You can't tell me what to do."

Jungkook, that fucker. Why didn’t he listen to you? Why didn’t you shut him up? If there was a way to go back in time you’d do it. You wouldn’t have kissed Taehyung, you wouldn’t let him get the wrong impression. You wouldn’t have encouraged Jungkook to be with Joy. Fuck, if you could go back in time you would have woken up that first morning in Jungkook’s bed and said that it meant a lot to sleep with him, that you were willing to not be just friends anymore.

(Of course, back then you didn’t feel that way, but you’re drunk and sad. Give yourself a break.)

Now, you can’t tell him what you feel because he’s somewhere overseas. He probably bought new clothes for such an important occasion. You imagine him being in a real set for the first time, his eyes gleaming as he watches the staff working, him trying to hold his excited smile back because he’s supposed to look professional and-

You sniff. You have a stuffy nose. Fuck.

You're so drunk that you can't really control your actions anymore. If Seulgi were here, she would probably stop you. But she's not here. She's somewhere with Irene.

So you take your phone, tap the Instagram app and start typing.

[@you]: hell o 😅😂🤣😊

[@you]: its been a log time how u doing???

[@you]: what if we meeet????

And unfortunately, she replies.

[@yerimiese]: hi ��

[@yerimiese]: yeah, sure!

[@yerimiese]: when can we meet?

It’s the back pain that makes you wake up the next day because you slept on the floor. You’re dizzy and confused, your poor brain trying to understand what’s happening, why you’re on the floor, why there’s so many empty beer cans around you and why your phone is flashing with notifications from last night.

When your sight finally adjusts to the light your phone screen produces, your eyes widen and you stand up in a jump, making your back ache even more.

Did you seriously DM Yeri and she seriously agreed to meet you?!

It’s currently 11:40 AM - and you agreed to meet at noon. 

You run to your bedroom so fast that it makes you dizzy and you end up hitting your hip against the doorframe and it feels like you fucking broke it. You just have time to wear the first clean clothes you see laying around, tie your hair up and run to take the first bus you see.

You could’ve just told Yeri that you weren’t going anymore, of course, even though she agreed to meet you and it would’ve been kind of rude. You know it’s going to be the most awkward moment ever to see her after so long, especially now that you have feelings for her ex. Gosh - you’re already feeling so much embarrassment that you feel like jumping out of the bus and running back home. Why the fuck do you always end up doing stupid things when you’re drunk?!

But again - it’s that same chaotic side of you that makes you stay inside the bus and meet her. This chaotic side takes a good portion of your personality, it just gets more outgoing when you’re drunk. The same chaotic side that made you start some friends with benefits bullshit with your best friend just because you liked the idea of not being caught and the same chaotic side that made you passive aggressively flirt with Taehyung when you didn’t really want anything with him-

How the fuck did your friends even stand you?!

You’re forced to stop the existential crisis when you see that you arrived at the park. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

Yeri is sitting on the bus stop. 

She looks prettier than you remember; her hair is short and blonde now, which makes her look more mature. Yeri was always one to walk around well dressed, but right now it feels almost humiliating that she's all pretty when you literally look like a scarecrow. 

She smiles awkwardly and gets up. You didn't even say anything yet and it already feels awkward.

"I’m so sorry, Yeri,” is the first thing you say as you approach each other. “Did I make you wait too long?”

“No! It’s alright. I also got a little bit late.” She says, smiling prettily. Pretty is a word that overall describes her very well. “So, how you’re doing?”

“I’m doing fine!” You’re doing anything but fine at the moment. “What about you?”

“I’m fine, too.”

Silence.

My good Lord.

You start to regret all of your life choices right here and right now. You don’t see this girl in almost a year, you’re not close anymore, you know nothing about her life. Why the fuck did you even come anyway?! The awkwardness is so big that you can almost touch it.

There’s also a small and annoying thought that grows as you watch her - a thought you try very hard to ignore, but you can’t - that this is the girl Jungkook used to fuck before he started fucking you, that he used to go down on her and that he used to be inside of her and that those pretty lips of her once were around his cock and for some reason you start getting really angry-

“Do you wanna have a drink?” Yeri suddenly says.

You blink. “Hm… it’s 12PM.”

“And?” She quirks an eyebrow.

She’s perceptive, this one. Nothing’s better to break the ice than alcohol. 

You don’t even know what you’re doing here anyway, so who cares?

“Sure. I know a bar nearby.”

Yeri slams the empty glass on the counter and stares at you, shocked.

“Mike did what?!”

You nod and swallow one more shot. Your tastebuds are so used (even calloused) from this bitter taste that you don’t even scowl as the drink slides down your throat. “Yeah. It seems that he was cheating on me for a while with that bitch. I caught them inside the lab.”

Yeri stares ahead. She looks speechless. “I will be honest… I heard that he was cheating on you, but I never thought this happened.” She shakes her head slowly. “Why the fuck were they inside a lab anyways? Are they stupid?”

“The lab was deactivated. That part of the science building was being renovated.” You sigh. Reviving those memories is kind of painful right now, especially after what Mike did to you some nights ago. Honestly, he could die and you wouldn’t care. “I was looking for him. His friends told me he went in that direction… well, kinda weird that they snitched on him like that. Maybe they really didn’t know. Anyways, I still don’t know how they got the key to the lab.”

Yeri nods. “Wow… I am really, really shocked. You guys were a pretty couple.” She gesticulates with her hand. “One more shot, please.”

“Me too, please.” You say.

The bartender looks at you two with visible worry. There’s no one else in the bar - who the fuck drinks so much this early? Wait, why is this bar even opened this early? - so he’s obviously hearing your whole conversation. You wonder what’s his opinion on your fucked up love life.

“Are you sure, girls? Shouldn’t you slow down a little bit?” He asks hesitantly.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Nah, we’re good.” You’re still not dizzy, just a little talkative. Getting drunk yesterday seemed to awaken all of your high tolerance superpowers. Pretty Yeri also isn’t one to get drunk that easily.

“We’re strong girls.” She reassures. The bartender shrugs as he prepares two more shots. “You seemed to like him a lot.” 

“I did.” You admit. 

“And he seemed to like you, too. I never expected that. Well… to be honest, Jungkook sometimes told me that he didn’t like Mike and that he was sure that he wasn’t a good guy.”

The sudden mention of his name makes you freeze. You realize that Yeri freezes, too. It seems that she’s also surprised for bringing him up like this. Yeri looks down at the new shot the bartender just placed in front of you two.

“It seems that he was right. As usual.” She finishes in a much lower voice, drinking her shot in one go.

This single sentence makes you realize that “Jungkook” is still a delicate topic for her. Of course it’d be - you don’t know much about their break up, but you sure know it was anything but friendly. Jungkook got pretty fucked up for a few weeks after their break up - and the fact that he refuses to talk about it to this day is enough of an indication.

Shit.

“Anyways, it didn’t stop there.” You decide to go back to your suffering for now, so she can get distracted. “The day before yesterday I bumped into him. He was drunk and made a scandal. Called me a bitch in front of everyone.”

Yeri gasps and looks at you wide eyed. “What? Please, tell me someone punched the fuck out of him!”

“Yeah, my friend did before I could.” You’re not telling her which friend, of course. “It was satisfying. Still made me feel really bad, though.”

“You shouldn’t. You did nothing wrong, Y/N. He’s the son of a bitch here.” Yeri reassures. 

You nod and drink. “But enough of talking about my depressing love life. What about you?”

Yeri sighs, holding the small cup with both hands. “I’m doing fine, I guess. Didn’t really get serious with anyone yet. I’m seeing a guy, though. I don’t think I like him yet, but he’s about right. Who knows?” She says, shrugging.

You nod slowly. We’re getting into dangerous waters now. “I’m glad we’re both moving on, I guess.”

Yeri goes quiet for a while.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

A deep silence settles after this. You stare at the empty cup blankly, feeling the tension building up.

"I… have to be honest." Yeri starts quietly. "It was surprising that you called me after so long." She taps her nails on the counter slowly. "And I have the feeling that you called me for a very specific reason."

You nod slowly. She's not stupid. "You're right."

Yeri hesitates for a second. "You didn't… Jungkook didn't ask you to come here to talk to me, right?"

You almost gasp. Jungkook doesn't even dream that you're with her right now. "No, no. He didn't. You know I'm kinda nosy, but I have my limits too."

Yeri quirks her eyebrows and nods. You really hope that this tiny thing you saw deep in her eyes wasn't disappointment. You really hope that deep down Yeri doesn't still like him.

"So… why did you call me, then?"

You sigh. She came all this way just to meet you, so you have to at least be honest right now.

"I was drunk yesterday when I texted you."

"Oh." Yeri widens her eyes. "I thought there was something wrong with you by the way you were texting."

You chuckle. "But… I did call you because of Jungkook, somehow." You say carefully, She stiffens. "I know it's kinda cruel to do this. If you want to simply leave or if you want to slap me, I won't judge you. But… we had a really ugly fight these days and I don't know what to do. I was hoping that maybe… maybe you could help me understand him."

Yeri goes very, very quiet after this.

"Did you guys fight because of me?" She asks after a while.

"No and yes." Yeri was one of the things that got you overthinking anyways. "I… I really need to know. Again, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. But… why did you guys break up?"

Yeri turns her head slowly to look at you. There's something very serious and hardened on her eyes.

"He never told you." It wasn't a question. You shake your head. "Well, I figured he wouldn't." She looks back to the cup between her hands; you can see she's thinking hard. "Y/N, I always admired your friendship with him. What you have is something truly special. Maybe you won't want to know why. Maybe I don't want to tell you because I don't want to destroy your friendship."

"My relationship with Jungkook won't ever go back to what it used to be anyways. I don't care." 

Yeri looks surprised. She still hesitates for some moments - what makes your blood boil in expectation - but finally sighs and nods.

"Alright, then." She crosses her arms. "I broke up with him because of you."

You stare at her, jaw dropped.

"What? What did I do?" You ask, genuinely confused.

"You did nothing." She chuckles drily. "That's why I couldn't hate you, you know. And I tried to hate you really hard."

You don't know what to say. Some girls Jungkook had some sort of relationship with were very jealous of you, you knew, but Yeri was different. "Were you… were you jealous of me and him? But Yeri- you know we weren't like that."

This is not a lie. You weren't like that while they still dated. You were too stupidly in love with Mike to notice the person that was standing right by your side all along.

"I know." She nods. "I know you didn't. But Jungkook did."

You freeze.

"What?"

Yeri finally looks at you again - clear sadness on her eyes.

"Jungkook loves you. Not in a way a friend does."

You’re absolutely speechless.

Your heart is beating so fast that you think you’re about to faint. Your brain malfunctions and it seems that you lost the ability to speak for a few moments. This shouldn’t shock you - Jungkook confessed his feelings himself not long ago, and Jimin also said how he knew about Jungkook’s feelings - goddamn, even Seulgi noticed it a little bit. But back then? When he was still dating Yeri?

“B-But Yeri-” you hate the way you’re stuttering and you hate how Yeri is telling you something she obviously doesn’t like, but you still feel so fucking happy and fuzzy inside. “Jungkook was in love with you. I’m sure.”

“I thought so, too. And he thought he was in love with me.” Yeri stares ahead again, and in this moment you realize that yes, it still hurts her. “You know… Jungkook was too much like a dream.” She chuckles to herself, as if she can’t believe in what she’s saying. “He was perfect in every sense. His good looks, the way he was always so sweet… God, even the way he’s in bed.” Yes, he’s unbeatable in bed, you want to agree. “Too perfect to be true.”

Yeri goes quiet again for a while. She stares at the cup as if it’s showing her something important she can’t look away from.

“I started to realize why it was so perfect.” Her voice sounds painfully fragile. “He was trying too hard. Always trying his best. At first I thought that it was a good thing… We all want someone that’s always trying their best for you, right? But then… then, I started to watch how he acted when he was around you. Y-You know what’s worst in all this? It’s not like you two gave me actual reason to be jealous. You were never touchy around each other. You were even dating back then, and you two avoided going out together because Mike and Jungkook never got along well. I know it.” She sounds like she wants to cry. It makes you feel really, really bad. 

“But… fuck, it was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around. With you, he wasn’t trying anything. He didn’t need to try. I saw how he was so comfortable around you and… well, I didn’t need to be a genius to understand that he was so stupidly in love with you that it got him blind.” Yeri inhales and exhales deeply. “Jungkook was too much like a dream. But everyone has to wake up sometime, and I didn’t want to be there when he woke up from his. So I left him before I could get any more hurt.”

You can just stare at her, jaw dropped, adrenaline making your breathing shaky.

“Yeri, I never… I didn’t…” you stupidly stutter.

“I know you didn’t.” She nods. “I even pitied Jungkook, you know. Because he didn’t want to see what he really felt, and because you obviously didn’t feel the same.” Yeri chuckles. “That’s why I can’t hate you. That’s also what gave me some sense of revenge. At least he’s suffering a little bit.”

You’re both very, very quiet for some time.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. She doesn’t know you’re apologizing for putting her under the torture of telling those memories that are still painful for her. You weren’t expecting that Yeri still felt so affected by her past relationship even after so long. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” She shakes her head slowly. “It wasn’t meant to be. That’s all. We would both keep suffering like that.” Yeri exhales again and looks at you. “Well… I guess I’m going now. I really hope I didn’t completely kill your relationship with him.”

She didn’t.

She quite helped to save it, actually.

Yeri takes some money from her purse and puts it over the counter, paying for her drinks. As she gets up from the stool, you say:

“Thank you for telling me, Yeri. I really wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

The blonde girl opens a small smile. You see why Jungkook fell - well, at least thought he fell - for her. Maybe Yeri doesn’t know it, but she also looks like a dream. You just hope she’ll find someone that will wake her up to see the most beautiful, warm and lovely reality.

“Thanks. See you around.”

She leaves.

You just sit there, all alone, staring at the counter.

Well- not exactly alone.

The bartender is furiously side-eyeing you.

“What?” You ask drily.

He presses his lips together. “I don’t think I should say anything…”

You tilt your head. “Go ahead. You heard everything anyway.”

The bartender stops in front of you. There’s something wise about him. That’s probably the result of hearing hundreds and hundreds of love stories every night - day, in your case.

“That dude you guys were talking about,” he says. “Your friend. You like him, right?”

You stare at him seriously. “Why would you think that?”

“Because your eyes lit up so much as she talked that I thought you were going to explode.”

Fuck. You can’t even pretend anymore. You avoid his gaze, embarrassed, and nod. “I do.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Then, and excuse my intrusive ass, what the fuck are you waiting for?” He almost looks annoyed, as if he’s having to explain something painfully obvious. “Go after him, woman!”

You stare at him. 

He’s right.

What the fuck are you waiting for?

Oh, right. You’re waiting until he comes back, because he’s fucking overseas.

It makes you so, so angry. After everything you just heard, after everything you’re feeling right now, you wanted nothing more but to run to him and make him listen to you. You want to see him, to hug him, to make him understand that he’s your most important person in the world, that you can’t see yourself in a world where he isn’t around.

But guess what - you’ll have to wait three days to meet him. 

You look so grumpy on your way back home that people deliberately avoid looking at you. Seulgi and Irene are there when you arrive; Seulgi looks worried, Irene looks confused, you just decide to say you’re alright and lock yourself inside your bedroom because you can’t physically look at a happy couple right now.

You throw yourself on the bed and scream against a pillow.

If someone told you you’d be feeling so many things when all of this started, you wouldn’t have believed. You were always someone to continuously keep the fuck it button pressed - or at least, you pretended you did. Like that, you could trick your heart into believing you weren’t hurt by some jerk who cheated on you, that you didn’t feel like a piece of shit for drowning your problems in alcohol, that you didn’t care that most of your “friends” just cared about you when it came to parties and having fun, that there was never really anyone that truly took you seriously in a relationship.

It’s really easy to pretend those things aren’t real. But it’s just like Yeri said - one moment, everyone has to wake up. To you, waking up means facing the consequences of your actions, to face your feelings.

And it really hurts right now.

It also reminds you that the person you’d usually let your guard down for was Jungkook. You were never embarrassed to be weak in front of him - and it was the other way round. You were always in tune. Always in synergy.

This makes you remember the little black pen drive laying on the nightstand.

You sit in a jump, taking your laptop and the pen drive. Just feeling the device between your fingers makes you feel nervous… that’s why you still didn’t check what’s inside of it yet. Jimin said it was something personal. You’ve been hesitating to see whatever it is.

It can’t be bad, can it?

You plug the pen drive in your laptop. 

The files tab pops up. There’s actually only one file inside the pen drive - a video. It’s called euphoria final test i swear to god. 

You chuckle. This is so Jungkook. 

Your finger still hovers over the touchpad hesitantly. It looks like one of Jungkook’s test videos - you’ve seen plenty of those. Nothing new. Nothing to be scared of. You double click. 

The video opens up and fills up the screen.

It’s a vertical video recorded on selfie mode. Jungkook is walking down the university hall; he has a playful smile on his lips. The video shows you walking by his side, a grumpy expression on your face.

You remember this. He actually posted this on his Instagram stories around one year ago. His hair was way shorter back then. Why does he still have something so silly?

“Y/N’s team lost the championship.” Jungkook says. Of course he looks happy. He roots for the rival team. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Fuck you.” Is all you say.

Jungkook laughs loudly.

Another video.

A song kicks in.

It starts with the sweet melody of a piano. You frown, not recognizing this song at all. 

Then the voice of the singer kicks in, and you feel your whole body freezing.

It’s Jungkook’s voice.

He sounds soft and angelic as you’ve always known - only this time, through professional mics and mixing. This itself is already shocking. You always felt blessed for being one of the few people to know of Jungkook’s singing ability, but this is different. He sounds like a professional singer, someone that makes a living out of it.

You remember Namjoon’s voice.

Hah, Jungkook didn’t tell you yet? He has been working with us! We’re doing a good job. He lent his voice to record some demos.

You then remember what Jungkook told you.

I… I kind of helped them write a song. I felt kind of inspired. It was just for fun, though.

Maybe I’ll let you listen to it any other day.

Is… is this the song he was talking about?

Jungkook’s sweet voice sings:

You are the sunlight that rose again in my life

A reincarnation of my childhood dreams

I don’t know what these emotions are

Am I still dreaming?

Your breathing is irregular. Your fingers are shaking slightly. 

Because as if his voice wasn’t enough to singlehandedly make you feel completely lost, the video is still passing on.

Videos of you.

You sitting on the university’s library, reading a book. You crying that time you ate tacos that were way too spicy, Jungkook’s laughter from behind his phone ringing softly over the song. You playing Just Dance with Seulgi, ridiculously trying to follow the doll’s moves on the TV. You running after Jungkook down the hall as he laughs because he stole your last cookie. You dancing around your kitchen as you prepare breakfast. You and him singing to Staying Alive that night at Burger King, both of you visibly drunk. Your shocked reaction as you watched a plot twist unfold on the TV - an anime he insisted so much for you to watch that you ended up watching.

I hear the ocean from far away

Across the dream, past the woods

I'm following this clarity

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

You remember some of those videos. He posted some of them on his Instagram or Snapchat. Some of them you sent him yourself. Some of them, though, you had no idea that existed. Videos of you doing… nothing. Scrolling down your phone. Reading a book. Watching TV. Some of them look more professional - those are from the times you accepted to be his “model” so he could test his techniques, yet he never let you see any of those videos.

Just you.

You, you, you and you.

Were you wandering around

Looking for an erased dream too?

It’s different from what destiny suggests

We share the same painful views

Won't you please stay in my dreams

Yes, both of you had erased dreams. Your erased dream was Mike. His erased dream was Yeri.

Jungkook thought that you would never be more than friends. What he felt, though, was different from what he thought destiny suggested.

The way you drifted apart from each other. The pain you went through, watching your friendship slowly die. You shared the same painful views.

You don’t know at what moment you start to cry, but now, tears are freely dripping down your cheeks.

Even if the earth crumbles

No matter who shakes this world

Don't let go of my hand

Please don’t wake me up from this dream

You remember that time you were looking at the pictures Jungkook took at a wedding, and you noticed how the groom looked at his future wife with overflowing love. You wondered to yourself if someone has ever looked - or ever would - look at you the same way.

Well, sometimes… sometimes I caught him looking at you in some type of way.

It was the way Jungkook acted with you, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that smile he just showed when you were around. 

You’re not seeing him in this video.

Yet, it shows how Jungkook sees you. And you can’t help but think… in his eyes, you look beautiful.

He sings beautifully. Passionately.

Take my hands now

You are the cause of my euphoria

Euphoria

Close the door now

When I’m with you I’m in utopia

As the song slowly ends, the screen shows a last shot from a very old video you didn’t even remember. It’s from your graduation day from high school… actually, a video your mother recorded. The difference is clear from how shaky the camera is. You can’t help but think you look too goofy in your old school uniform.

“Y/N, it’s your graduation day! Next year you’ll live by yourself in a big city!”

“Thanks God. Less bills to pay for,” you hear your father jokingly say somewhere out of sight. You roll your eyes, but still laugh.

“Thank you so much, Dad. I see how much you love me.”

“But I love you, sweetie!”

“Shut up, darling. I’m trying to do an interview.” Your mother shushes him. “So, how do you feel, Y/N?”

You look thoughtful for a moment. That stupid teenager on the screen looks so full of hopes and courage. So young, so naive. “I’m a little bit scared, but I’m excited.” You say. 

Then you smile, as if remembering something very important.

“Besides, Jungkook will live next to me, so I’ll be alright.”

The video ends.

You just sit there, sobbing uncontrollably for the next few minutes.

When you clicked that file, you never expected this.

You never expected to feel so loved with just a video.

At the same time, it makes an urge - the strongest urge you’ve ever felt in your life - flow through you. You need to tell Jungkook how wrong those lyrics are.

He doesn’t have to keep dreaming anymore. You’ve woken up from your own dream - and you’re ready to show him the real world in which you love him back, unconditionally.

Irene and Seulgi look worried as they see you marching out of your bedroom, sniffling, tears streaming down your cheeks. Before Irene can say anything, you put both hands on her shoulders and look at her seriously.

“Remember when you said you owed me one? That you’d help me with whatever I needed?”

Irene starts to look scared. “Yes.”

“Were you serious?”

“Of course!”

“Good. Then I need you to buy a flight ticket for me. Today.”

“Are you sure that’s the right hotel, Jimin?” you ask out of breath, your phone almost falling as you balance it between your ear and your shoulder, your hands busy holding your passport and flight ticket. You, Irene and Seulgi run inside the airport, looking like three crazy women in a dangerous mission - which isn’t too far from reality.

“I’m sure, Y/N!” Jimin says through the phone, starting to sound a little bit annoyed. “God, you asked me this a hundred times!”

“But I need to be sure! Can’t you ask him once again?”

“He will start to get suspicious. I already had to make up one hell of an excuse to make him tell me which room he’s in without sounding creepy.”

“Room 23, right?”

“Room 32!”

“So, is he sure that’s the right hotel?” Irene asks.

“Yes.”

She clicks something on her phone. “Good. It’s not too far from the airport. You’re lucky there was a room available!”

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Seulgi asks, looking borderline panicked. “You’re not going to die if you wait a few days until he comes back.”

“Yes, I am going to die if I wait any longer.”

“So dramatic.” Jimin says over the phone. You can even see him rolling his eyes.

“Shut up!”

“Why are you telling me to shut up?!” Seulgi asks, offended.

“No! I was talking to Jimin!” You finally hold the phone with your hand. “Okay, Jimin. I’m hanging up. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Don’t fucking die out there.” Jimin says, but you can hear the smile on his voice. “Good luck!”

You shove the phone inside your back pocket and turn around to look at them.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you alone in a foreign country.” Seulgi says. She does look panicked.

“I don’t trust myself either, but it’s alright.” You reassure her - but she only looks more nervous. You didn’t even bring a suitcase, choosing to just take a backpack with a few clothes and extremely necessary items. 

Irene takes something from her wallet and hands it to you. “Here’s my credit card. I will text you the password later.”

You widen your eyes. “Irene, that’s not necessary…”

She shrugs in a dismissing demeanour. “Of course it is. How will you survive out there without money?” This kinda reminds you that this is only one of her credit cards and that whatever money you spend won’t really mean much to her. Still, you take the card hesitantly, making a mental promise to not spend more than the utmost necessary. “Your room is booked. You can ask a taxi to take you directly to the hotel. There’s no way to get lost.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” Seulgi says under her breath.

“Seulgi, I will fucking beat you up.” 

“Sorry! I’m nervous!” She admits.

Your gaze softens. “I promise I won’t die, okay?”

She steps closer and hugs you tightly. “Be safe. Huh, you’re so stupid, but this is so romantic! It feels like I’m watching a Netflix romcom movie in real life!”

“Why do you always have to bring Netflix up?” Irene wonders under her breath. Seulgi sends her a menacing glare as she steps back again. “Anyways, if you need anything, please call us. Call us as soon as you get out of the plane. Keep us informed.”

“Okay.” You jump over to hug Irene; she gets visibly surprised, not really the type of person to appreciate a lot of physical contact. “Thank you so much, Irene! You’re saving my life!”

“The same way you saved mine.” She giggles. “Now go, unless you want to lose your flight!”

You wave them goodbye one last time before walking to the check-in area.

Yeah. You know that this is very, very stupid to do. You could wait three days. But when your impulsive, chaotic side takes control, you can’t really hold it back. That’s why you get inside the plane even though you’re really fucking scared of flights, going to a country you know absolutely nothing about. 

But it’s alright. You’ll be with Jungkook, so it’s alright. Even if he rejects you - it’s alright.

Your chaotic side says that you’ll annoy him until he at least listens to you - and this time, you don’t think your chaotic side is all that wrong.

You get lost.

Which is dumb, because there were lots of information boards around the airport. Maybe that’s why you got lost - too much information, your peanut-sized brain couldn’t process all of that. After walking around the gigantic place for a good thirty minutes, only stopping to buy something very important on a vending machine, you find the exit and the taxi area. The taxi driver sees how desperate you are and it looks like he pities you.

Irene was right; the hotel is only twenty minutes away from the airport. It’s not a super hotel, but it looks like it’s much more expensive than you’d be able to pay (you couldn’t even pay for the flight tickets anyway). 

You get more and more and more and more nervous at each passing minute. You feel like you’re about to fucking explode as the receptionist types something you can’t see. When he gives you the key card for your room, you feel goosebumps run down your spine.

It’s now.

Getting inside the elevator, you press the button to Jungkook’s floor. You don’t even want to drop your things in your own room before meeting him. You’re so nervous that, if you wait a little bit more, you’re sure that you’ll pass out.

Every step of yours on the corridor’s carpeted floor echoes in your ears. Your heart beats furiously. Your hands are trembling slightly and you feel cold in your stomach.

Room 23.

You stand in front of it, frozen.

Oh my God.

As expected, you don’t know what you’ll say when you see him. You tried to plan a speech the entire flight as a way to forget you were thousands of feet away from the ground and how fucking scared it made you, but you couldn’t think of anything.

You inhale and exhale deeply. It’s alright. It’s Jungkook who you’re talking about. You’ve always known how to act around him. Right now it’s no different.

Finally, you knock on the door.

“J-Jungkook?” You call, your voice failing slightly.

No response. 

Weird. Jimin made sure that Jungkook wouldn’t be working anymore at this hour.

“Jungkook, it’s me. Can we… can we talk, please?” You say a little bit louder, knocking on the door once more. You can't hear any noise coming from inside the room. Come on, Jungkook. You have to open the door before any security guard can drag me away from here. 

Your breathing is difficult. Your hands are trembling slightly. It feels that the floor is opening holes under your feet.

"Jungkook, I know you're mad at me. But please… please, let me at least explain myself." It's stupid how you already feel your eyes welling up with tears. Since when you became such a cry baby? Your chest tightens, hurts. "Y-You can't just leave me outside your room like this. Stop being a jerk. I need to tell you… I-I need to tell you that I lo-"

"Y/N?"

You freeze.

You turn around, looking at the exact opposite room in the hallway.

It's him.

Jungkook still holds the doorknob, indicating that he just opened it. He's barefoot, wears shorts and a long sleeved shirt, all black. His damp hair falling slightly over his eyes indicates that he probably just took a shower.

His eyes are so widened that it looks like they're about to pop out of his face.

He sincerely looks at you like you're the weirdest thing he has ever seen in his life. 

"W-What-" he stutters, looking like he can't form a coherent sentence. "What the fuck?!"

You're still frozen in place.

You turn around again, looking at the door you were knocking on.

Room 23.

You look back at Jungkook again - the sign on his door.

Room 32.

"Oh." Is all you can say.

Shame suddenly makes your shoulders weight. You really, really hope there's no one inside Room 23. 

You both stand there, staring at each other with widened eyes like two scared chipmunks. Your neck and face feels very, very hot.

Jungkook looks like he's recovering from the shock. He didn't hear anything you said, apparently. 

"W-What exactly are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side. He frowns, looking at you like you're an exotic species. 

"Oh." You repeat. Your brain is malfunctioning. You step closer, simply showing him the plastic bag you're holding. "I-I brought you this."

His eyes go from you to the plastic bag and to you again. 

"It's banana milk." You explain hurriedly. He widens his eyes slightly. "I mean- it's this country's equivalent of banana milk, I guess. It's the closest thing I could buy in the vending machine."

Jungkook raises his hand slowly and takes it. He's moving carefully, as if this exotic species can jump on him and bite him at any moment.

"Did you take a 5 hour flight just to buy me banana milk?" 

"Yes." You agree mindlessly. You feel your entire body burning now. "A-And I also came here to talk, because your dramatic ass didn't let me speak the other day."

Jungkook quirks one eyebrow and crosses his arms slowly. "Alright. I'm listening to you now."

He stares at you very seriously. 

His gaze is overwhelming. It almost feels that you're getting small under his eyes. Gosh - you've been wanting to see him for days, but right now, when he's right in front of you, you can't say a damn thing, your brain completely overheating, your braincells melting. You thought you'd know how to act when you met him - but ha, guess what? You don't.

And that motherfucker is just standing there, waiting for you to speak. Just staring at you.

You hold the doorknob in a swift moment and close the door on his face, just letting enough of it open so he can still hear you.

"What-?" He gasps from inside the room.

"Shut up, okay?! I just can't speak looking at you right now." You hold the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles get white. You hate the way your voice is trembling and you hate the way your sight can't really focus on anything around you - that's just how nervous you are.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. You feel him leaning on the other side of the door, waiting patiently.

You inhale and exhale heavily.

"You got so fucking angry at me when I said you were my best friend that night.” You start, not really knowing where you’re going with this. You don’t even know if it’s possible to convey everything you feel through words only. “But you know, it’s- it’s true. You are my best friend. But what you didn’t let me explain is that you’re not just my best friend.”

Your heartbeat thunders on your ears at each word. You can’t see Jungkook’s expression, and at the same time it helps you keep talking, it also makes you more anxious. 

“Y-You’ve been with me through everything. You were there with me when I broke my arm when we were kids, and you were there to help me when I thought I wouldn’t get into college, and you were there with me to celebrate when I got into college. It’s even embarrassing that you’ve seen all of my lowest moments.” You rest your head on the door, staring at the carpet under your feet. The first tears roll down your cheeks. “You know everything about me and sometimes I hate it. You’re like… fuck, I hate how cheesy this sounds, but you’re like a part of me. A-And you’re the best part, because- I don’t know how to explain, but you’re always the one making my average self want to be more.”

Normal you would never say something like this. You’re far from being an emotional person and you’re shit with words. But right now you’re crying and sniffling and trembling and you can’t shut your mouth anymore.

“Please, you have to believe me. I would never purposefully hurt you. Whenever I see you sad I die a little bit inside, and to know that I was the cause of your sadness is fucking killing me. It’s killing me.” You sob. “I don’t want to be the cause of your sadness ever again. I-I want to return all the good things you’ve done to me. So, please… I know I’m a pain in the ass to deal with, b-but if you’d let me be by your side… if you’d just bear me a little bit longer until I become someone that you’d want to be with-”

Jungkook opens the door. 

You hear him whispering under his breath wait, wait, wait, interrupting you. Gently, he puts his hands on your arms and pulls you inside the room, closing the door right after, so now your back is against the door - right in front of him.

He stares at you, lips parted, eyebrows slightly knitted together. He looks stunned. Very, very confused. And very hopeful.

His starry eyes are welling up with tears.

“What… what do you mean with all this?” Jungkook asks softly. He almost sounds scared. “What do you really mean?”

You stare at him in silence. His beautiful face. His beautiful self. 

You’ve never been so sure about anything in your life.

“I love you.” you confess, your voice cracking slightly. “I-I fucking love you. I’m sorry that I took so long to realize.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen.

The next thing you know is that his lips are against yours.

He drops the plastic bag full of banana milk on the floor, holding the back of your neck with one hand and pressing your body against his with the other. He tastes like toothpaste and tears; you can barely breathe, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream, your fingers grabbing the strands of his damp hair.

When he finally lets go of your lips, you’re both out of breath and trembling.

Then, he smiles - and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

He wipes the tears away from your cheeks as his own cheeks are wet with tears. His eyes are smiling too, and you think that you want to keep that smile forever.

“Y-You have… you have no idea of how long- how long I dreamed of hearing this,” Jungkook says quietly, his voice cracking a little bit. He giggles, frowning his eyebrows slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing right in front of him. “I can’t believe you took a fucking plane to bring me banana milk! How can I stay mad at you when you do this type of thing?!”

You start giggling too. His warmth, his scent of baby powder, the way his eyes are shining as much as diamonds - this is something you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t know you’d ever have.

“God- I fucking love you, too.”

Your heart feels filled.

You smash your lips on his again.

It’s desperate and intense and makes your senses completely dizzy.

You feel the backpack dropping from your shoulders right before Jungkook lifts you up as if you weigh nothing and you circle your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss, he carries you to where the bed is, sitting down with you on his lap. 

Adrenaline and excitement washes over your body in anticipation. It’s even familiar at this point - his gaze clouded with want, your heavy breathings, hands grabbing and caressing everywhere they can find. Jungkook moans quietly against your lips as you grip his hair tightly, humping your clothed core very slowly against his growing erection.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers in that deep voice that makes goosebumps run down your skin, his lips against your neck as he kisses and sucks it. You giggle.

“We fucked just a few days ago,” you point out.

“I miss this everyday. All the time.” 

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you.

You might be shit at words, you might not know how to express yourself that well. But one thing you know better than anyone else is how to make him feel good.

So, softly, you push him back until you’re hovering above him and he’s propped up by his elbows.

You don’t say anything. You just smile and start to take his shirt off.

He doesn’t complain.

Your hands roam his exposed skin as you kiss and suck his neck gently. While your lips are still glued on his neck, one of your hands travels to caress his clothed member. Quiet moans come from the back of his throat. Slowly, you kiss your way down his chest and stomach - until you’re kneeled in front of his opened legs.

Jungkook is breathing heavily in anticipation. Maybe it’s the sole sight of you biting your bottom lip as you manage to get his member free from his boxers and shorts that makes it throb. He has to gulp when he sees you spitting on his dick, the feeling of your spit trickling down his member making goosebumps roam his skin.

You hold his member and start to bump it slowly at first - which makes waves of pure pleasure wash over Jungkook, stunning his senses. He hisses when your lips envelop the head of his cock, sucking it. His eyes are half lidded, lips slightly parted, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. He looks so beautiful as he’s being pleasured.

You start taking more of him inside your mouth until you feel him on your throat; Jungkook moans louder. You bob your head up and down his length, taking turns between sucking and bumping his member with your hand, your spit making it easier and producing obscene sounds. Jungkook hisses and groans and moans and then he’s grabbing your hair, making you take more of him inside your mouth. You don’t complain. You just want to make him feel the best he has ever felt.

This time, though, it’s being much quieter than what it usually is. Jungkook just swears a little under his breath. No dirty talking. 

His face and neck are covered with blush, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, his face distorted with pure pleasure. His moans are getting more constant and louder. You wouldn’t mind if he cummed in your mouth right now, but Jungkook hisses and takes his hand off your hair.

“Oh my God- stop. Stop. Come here, babe.”

You decide to just do as he said. As soon as you prop your knees on each side of him, Jungkook sits up again and starts to get rid of your clothing hurriedly - first your pants, then your coat and shirt. When he unclasps your bra, he immediately takes one of your breasts on his mouth, making you moan quietly. His hand pushes your panties to the side to meet your already wet core; you moan louder as he gently caresses it. You unconsciously start moving your hips against his hand, his movements adding more pressure over your clit, his lips still licking and sucking your breasts.

Jungkook decides this was enough to get you wetter. He pushes your panties to the side, holds both sides of your hips as you guide his member to your entrance.

Both of you moan as he enters.

You close your eyes tightly, the feeling of being stretched by him so familiar and so delicious. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you start to guide yourself up and down on him, never breaking eye contact, watching him carefully. Every deep moan coming from him makes you shiver. The pleasure, the sound of skin hitting skin - how many times have you done it before? You don’t even remember. Yet, right now, it somehow feels fresh and new. 

Maybe it’s because there’s more in Jungkook’s eyes than just lust. Maybe it’s because you notice how he watches you with adoration. And maybe it’s because you watch him with the same intensity, the same feeling.

Jungkook grabs the skin of your hips tightly as you increase your pace. He loves your face contorted in pleasure, he loves the sight of your boobs jumping at each move, he loves to feel the soft skin of your ass on his hand. He loves it. Both of you are really sweating now. You kiss him deeply, never decreasing your pace, your tongues entangling around each other, grabbing the strands of his hair.

God, how much he loves it.

He loves it much more now, because he sees how this time, he’s not the only one feeling something beyond physical pleasure. He knows you too damn well. It’s just like that morning at your house. You’re feeling it, too. 

You love him, too.

Thinking about it makes him smile. You think it’s simultaneously the hottest and the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook simply circles his arms around your waist and completely switches positions, throwing you on your back on the bed, which makes you giggle. He finally gets rid of your panties and hovers over you, thrusting inside of you once again.

His pace is fast and steady from the beginning. Your moans get higher and higher, louder and louder. You love how his face is so close to yours, how strongly he’s hitting you, how he tightly intertwines his fingers with yours (Jungkook really is the type to intertwine his hands when having sex!)

It’s ridiculous how you feel your eyes welling up with tears in a moment like this.

This moment… It’s not just bodies connecting - it’s souls. 

You used to think you and Jungkook didn’t match; you were opposites in many ways. Jungkook is an introvert, you are an extrovert. Jungkook prefers quiet places, you prefer parties. Jungkook works out, you’re too lazy to do so. Jungkook hates coffee. You can’t live without it.

But, it’s in this moment - when he’s inside of you, when all of your senses are stunned by pure pleasure, when everything you can smell is him and everything you can hear is the sounds of bodies against bodies and when everything you can see is his beautiful starry eyes looking right back at you - is when you realize how wrong you were all along.

You’re like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. They need to be different to match. They are different, but when you put them two together, they complete each other.

You’ve always matched.

Seulgi didn't expect to find Jungkook standing in the kitchen when she came home.

Of course - you told her that the flight back home was scheduled at night and you'd probably arrive in the morning. This shouldn't be surprising. Yet, Seulgi still widens her eyes when she sees Jeon Jungkook cooking breakfast, his hair a mess, his face slightly swollen - an indication that he just woke up - wearing shorts and a white t-shirt.

He turns around and smiles. "Oh! Y/N didn't tell me you were coming back so early." He sounds a little bit surprised.

Seulgi notices it immediately.

That smile on his face and those gleamy eyes are just shown by someone that had a long, steamy and tiring night of sex.

Sure, Seulgi knows that you and Jungkook made up - and that you've been fucking for months now - but damn, it's still shocking to see it with her own eyes, considering that you only looked like good friends.

"I didn't know I'd come back early, too." Seulgi says, sitting by the tiny kitchen counter. She was expecting to spend the weekend at Irene’s penthouse, but she had to work. This is one of the reasons why Seulgi loves Irene; Irene could just enjoy her fortune and do nothing, yet, she decides to actively work for the company. She’s admirable.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asks over his shoulder.

"Well… I already had breakfast, but this is smelling really good." She admits. Jungkook nods and proceeds to prepare one more portion. She just watches in silence as he works around the kitchen (and she's also surprised that he knows where everything is, every pot, every spoon, literally everything). He hums quietly, that tiny satisfied smile never leaving his lips. 

Seulgi thinks she has never seen him so happy.

It's kind of adorable.

"So, how was your job?" She asks.

"It was great!" Jungkook says excitedly. He chuckles. "I thought I was going to be the assistant of the assistant, but actually I was everyone's assistant. I didn't really do much, but it was great anyways. It's totally different to study about it and see how things work in real life."

Before Seulgi says anything, she sees you coming from your bedroom.

Your face is swollen and your eyes are barely opened; it seems you're not even seeing where you're going. Your hair is a complete mess. You wear one of Jungkook's shirts and Seulgi suspects you're not wearing anything under it.

She watches as you walk on a beeline straight to Jungkook and hug him from behind, burying your face on his back.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" At least that's what she thinks you said, because your voice sounds muffled.

"Because you looked so funny that I didn't want to wake you up." He says softly. Seulgi can hear his smile. "You were drooling and all. I even took some pictures."

"You didn't."

"I did." Jungkook giggles when you punch his back, but still keep your body glued on him. 

"Fuck you. What are you cooking anyways? It smells too fucking good." You mumble.

"It's my special recipe." Jungkook moves to take something on the cabinet. You go along. "I can't cook if you keep smashing me like this."

"I don't caaare."

"Since when do you like hugging so much?"

"You didn't know girlfriend Y/N. Girlfriend Y/N likes long hugs."

Jungkook chuckles again. "Nice to meet you, Girlfriend Y/N."

Seulgi just stares, jaw dropped. From all the things she thought she’d see in her life, this is the most unexpected.

This is so cheesy. So not you. Not even when you were dating Mike you were like this. 

And Jesus- she has never seen you look happy like this.

You turn your head to look at Seulgi, and she watches awkwardly as you let go of Jungkook and proceed to walk in her direction. You kind of look like a really happy zombie.

“Oh, good morning, Seul. Don’t be jealous. I love you toooo.”

And you throw your arms around her shoulders, hugging her so tightly that she almost falls from the stool.

The only person that doesn’t get shocked at your relationship is your mother.

You casually called her just to talk and gave the news. What she said?

“Well, finally.” 

Everyone else is utterly shocked.

When Hoseok saw you kissing each other goodbye the other day - it was just a peck - his eyes got so wide that it seemed they were about to pop out of his face. He stared at you and him, completely shocked, as Jimin just laughed. That was pretty much everyone’s reaction.

You and Jungkook were never the type to be too touchy. It’s still kind of awkward to hand hold in public or call each other things like babe or love. You physically cringe just thinking of calling him “babe”, honestly.

It’s weird, because you’re “officially” dating now, but your relationship isn’t all that different. All the overwhelming awkwardness between you is gone (thankfully), so now you do what you always did; you swear at each other, you have your violent ways of showing affection, he still ghosts you because he’s too busy playing whatever game. The only difference is that now you can fuck without feeling guilty (and oh boy, you’ve been fucking a lot these days) and there’s a lot of kissing. There wasn’t that much kissing back then.

You thought it was impossible, but sex is even better now. It’s more exciting and even funnier - especially because there’s no awkwardness weighting in the room after you both reach your climaxes. Instead, there’s giggles and hugs and soft kisses. You also sleep at each other’s places now, which is good.

To be honest, if you think really hard about it, you’ve been lowkey dating for years. It’s just that now, you fuck a lot. 

When you tell him this, Jungkook just chuckles. You don’t think he’s really listening to what you’re saying, though - nor you’re thinking straight anymore. You went out with your friends at a karaoke and, as expected, ended up drinking way too much; you and Seulgi had a singing competition in which none of you won (Irene just sat there looking absolutely embarrassed), Jimin sang a little bit but disappeared at some point (Jungkook said he noticed some hot guy in the side room), Hoseok got so emotional singing Haru Haru by BigBang that he started crying as Seokjin laughed so hard he almost choked, and Jungkook didn’t sing at all (because everybody knew he’s actually good at it and he would humiliate everyone else), until Jungkook silently asked if you wanted to leave (and you did) and you two left before anyone could notice (they were too drunk to notice anyway).

Since he’s drinking, you took a bus. The wrong bus. You’re at the other side of the city now, sitting on the bench of a park, watching the sun rise. It sounds romantic, but really, everything you see is heavy traffic and the grey pollution line in the horizon, almost blocking the sun.

Not that you care.

“We did everything backwards.” Jungkook says, his voice low and a little bit husky. His eyes look heavy because of the alcohol. You love how his hair is tied in a tiny ponytail. “People usually are friends first, then go out on dates, then they fuck.”

“We jumped straight to the fun part!” You say as if it’s obvious. He giggles again. 

Peaceful silence. Jungkook watches your intertwined hands sitting on his lap, a small smile on his face. You can see that, even though he’s right by your side, his mind must be far, far away. He’s clearly sleepy. It’s silly - you know this guy almost your entire life, you already have memorized each detail about him - but you can’t take your eyes off of him right now.

You inhale.

“You know.” You start absently. “I saw the video.”

Jungkook frowns and looks at you. “What video?”

You’re trying really hard to hold back a smile.

“I think it’s called euphoria final test I swear to God.”

His eyes widen.

“W-What? Who showed you?!” He groans. “Jimin. Oh my God- I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

You start laughing as you see blush creeping on his cheeks and ears. He hides his face behind his hands and moans painfully.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” You ask, endeared, trying to get his hands off from his face, but he won’t let you.

“You weren’t supposed to watch that! It’s- it wasn’t- ugh!”

“But the song is beautiful, Kook!” You try, still laughing.

“Yeah, the song is alright, but the video?”

“What’s wrong with the video?”

He finally side eyes you for a few seconds. The blush on his cheeks gets redder. He hides his face again, groaning.

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that. Shit, I can’t look at you anymore. I wanna fucking die.”

“Stop being so dramatic!” After a lot of effort, you finally manage to cup his face with your hands. Still, he avoids your gaze. “Hey, hey. Look at me!”

He does.

He looks sheepish and it’s adorable.

“I loved it. Every second of it. You’re so damn talented.”

“B-But I didn’t write the song alone… Namjoon takes most of the credits with the lyrics. I just helped a little bit. A-And you know, it was just for fun, it’s not an official demo or anything-”

He’s forced to shut up when you peck his lips.

“I love you.”

He knits his eyebrows a little bit.

“You like to say this a lot.” He notices quietly. “I didn’t know you were this type of person.”

“I’m not.” You agree. “But it’s because it’s you.”

You’ve been “officially” dating for, what, almost two weeks now? People usually don’t say “I love you” this early. But this isn’t the beginning for you two. It’s more like a progression. It feels natural, like it has always been with him.

It feels like home.

Jungkook avoids your gaze again. The blush hasn’t gone away. “I don’t know what to do when you say things like that- why are you crying?!”

It’s Jungkook’s time to laugh at you as you try to wipe the tears away. He pulls you to rest your head on his chest, hugging you tightly.

“I am supposed to be the emotional one here, not you.” He says, still laughing.

“Shut up. I’m drunk.” 

“Yeah, sure.” His laughter slowly dies until it’s just a quiet giggle. You feel his scent, hear the beating of his heart. Jungkook kisses the top of your head gently, caressing your back. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed when I remember I said this tomorrow,” he says softly against your hair. “But I think I’ve loved you ever since that first day of school when we bumped into each other on our way.”

You bury your face on his chest even more.

Everything around you is blurred and distant. It seems that nothing really matters besides right here, right now - as if you’ve never realized what you’ve been waiting for your whole life. This moment.

Him.

The puzzle is finally complete.

[jinpanman]

All I Want Is You(ngi)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: pg15, fluff, established relationship

warnings: alcohol consumption

summary: Yoongi takes his baby out to sing karaoke the night before Christmas with the two Seoks. It’s a riot with drunken caroling (read: hollering) but he's so in love that he doesn't care.

a/n: My part of the SNOWLLAB with a super lovely bunch. Pls do yoself a favor and read everyone’s stories when they drop cause I promis it’ll be amazing. <3 A big thank you to Willow for pulling this crew together. A big thank you to Willow for the prompt inspo. A big thank you to Willow for creating the banner. A big thank you to Willow for beta reading my lil story and fixing up all the lil pieces and praising me….. So basically this is one big love letter to Willow. Thanks for being the best and most amazing little holibean 💙💚

sequel: Will You(ngi) Marry Me? 

Here he is now, currently regretting his inability to ever say no to your whims as he watches you skip with a couple of slips and twisted ankles along the way to the front of the small darkened room and snatch the mic off its stand. You’re bent over the karaoke machine, clumsily swiping the screen to find the song you want. After several more swipes, you squeal excitedly... and then he hears it. The reason for your excitement. The all too familiar jingling of church and sleigh bells elicits an embarrassed groan from him. You turn to face your small audience and after taking an unreasonably deep breath, you close your eyes and sing.

“I… don’t want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need…”

“Sing it girl!” Hoseok cheers, thrusting a newly opened glass bottle into the air.

“Aaall I want for Christmas…”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT Y/N?!” Hoseok shrieks over the music.

“...iiiiiiss YOOOOUU...NGIII!!!” You hunch over to belt out the last note and your hair falls over your face but he doesn’t need to see you to know your features are scrunched up in order to sing past your lung capacity.

Yoongi very much wants to curl in the corner to hide from your unabashed love, but alas you, Hoseok, and Seokjin would never let him live it down, so instead he sits there trying (and failing) to fight the shy smile that overtakes his features. Even as the music grows louder, Yoongi can hear Seokjin laughing and slapping Hoseok’s thighs on the other side of the booth. 

Oh god. It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea to have agreed to go out to karaoke with Seokjin and Hoseok, but you had begged and begged him and he was but a weak man when it came to you.

“I should have remembered it’s never a normal holiday with this crew.” He moans into his hands.

A hand roughly pats him on his shoulder. He peeks through his fingers to the portrait of a grinning Jin, now beside him. The man extends an unopened bottle of alcohol out to him.

“You sure you don’t want a drink, man? I know you drove but I don't mind chauffeuring you both home and taking a cab from there.”

“Nah, I’m good. We can’t both be stupid drunk when we get home. We might burn the house down then you’d have to waste even more money to come collect our bodies.”

Jin snorts at his remark. “Touché.”

The two of them lay back against the bench cushion and watch with horrified amusement as a wobbly Hoseok makes his way to you. The rambunctious (and very buzzed) duo up on the little stage drop to their knees and Yoongi balks at the way the two of you obscenely shake your butts to the very cheery tune of Mariah Carey’s biggest holiday hit. Sober Hoseok was always a delight. Even Yoongi didn’t mind busting out a few moves every now and then with him. Drunk Hoseok, though, he was a different animal altogether. Insatiable, he was, and he was the perfect hype man for drunk you.

Yoongi makes eye contact with you and now that you’ve got his attention, you reach out your free hand towards him and beckon him over with the curl of your finger. His heart goes a-hammering away without his permission. Yoongi, a fool in love, lets himself be pushed out of his seat and like a man lost at sea, he’s pulled closer and closer to the siren who sings the song meant to be his undoing. 

Except that the siren is you and your slurred singing is not at all alluring or seductive. He smiles at your pitiful attempt at fluttering your lashes at him. Despite your inability to entice him with your song and your sensual form, he still jumps overboard. He jumps and dives headfirst into the ocean that is your freely given love. All for him. Even a horrendous, throaty snort does nothing to unwind the unintentional spell you've cast on him. He faintly hears the two men squealing like children behind him, but all he can hear, all he can see is you.

“Make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is you! Yoongi, baby!”

He can’t help but giggle at the way you serenade him, with your terribly exaggerated airy voice, but he loves it all the same. He loves you and all the surprises and jolly that comes with loving you.

Both you and Hoseok giggle at each other as Yoongi and Seokjin try to guide the two of you out of the building. Hoseok clings to his partner but his free hand is held tight in your grip, much to Yoongi’s chagrin. You’re both so wobbly and walking together is no help to either him or Jin. 

It’s definitely gotten chillier and Yoongi is grateful that you didn’t forget your winter coat tonight. You’re bundled and cosy beside him, with the hood wrapped snug over your head. Your eyes are still glassy and your breathing hasn’t quite recovered from your exuberant singing competition against Seokjin, but that’s okay. You know Yoongi will take care of you. That’s the only reason why you were able to let go so freely tonight anyway, and he takes pride in knowing that you trust him so entirely. He hoists you up into a more comfortable standing position and nods to Jin.

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

“Merry Chrysler, Yoongichi. Drive home safely!”

Yoongi grimaces and mutters under his breath but Jin merely smiles bigger. With a final wave, he pulls a swaying and incoherent Hoseok close to his side and they walk to their awaiting cab. He would have waited until they got into the car, but you’ve started blowing raspberries on his neck. While he normally wouldn’t mind having your saliva on him, he can feel remnants of soggy pretzel bits flying out of your mouth onto his exposed skin and that is more than enough to kill what could have been a flirtatious mood. He pushes your head away, eliciting a squeaky whine.

“Ah, stop. That’s gross. C’mon, let’s go home.”

It wasn’t too much trouble getting you in and out of the car, but now that you have arrived home, you refuse to step inside your house. You cling onto him like a lifeline, as if you’ll fall to the ground and drown in the air that surrounds you.

“I don’t wanna go home yet, Yoongiii. I feel soooo gross!” You whine, heavily emphasizing on how gross you felt.

“That’s why we’re gonna go inside and shower, baby. So you’re not gross.”

“Oh my goood!” You sob into his shoulder. “You think I’m gross!”

Yoongi sighs and looks into the night sky, pressing his lips tightly together into a forced smile. You continue to wail out in the open and he all but clamps your mouth shut with a press of his finger against your lips.

“Do you wanna go for a walk instead?” You immediately shut up and nod eagerly. “Okay, let’s go walk, honey.”

He knows you’ll complain about the cold in a few minutes, but he’ll deal with that future Y/N when she arrives. They’ve walked a short distance around the complex when he suddenly feels a drop of cold wetness against his cheek. He looks up and notices the flakes of white falling from the sky. He squeezes your hand and points your interlaced hands up.

“Baby, it’s snowing.”

“Oh, shit it’s snowing! Okay.” You perk up at having heard that and untangle yourself from him. “Shit. Let me, let me uh, wait. Here.”

Before he could even begin to guess what you were about to do, you plop yourself right onto the cold grass. You shriek at the burst of cold against your legs but like the diva you think you are, you don’t get up and instead pose for him. Your hands are positioned entirely too close around your face that your eyes are barely visible and your skirt is hiked so far up your hunched legs that he can see your panties. You’re wearing those adorable brown bear ones he knows you think are the most comfortable pair of undies you’ve ever owned. Cute.

“Okay. I’m ready. Always gotta be ready for the camera.”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is entirely uncontrollable and he all but melts at the sight of you. The fairy lights your landlords put up around the apartments shine brightly in the night and illuminate the flakes of snow that fall from the sky. It’s a beautiful sight, but you shine the brightest. The light hovering above you highlights your subtle cheekbones and the combination of the falling snow and lights creates a sort of glowing halo around you.

You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on.

The most beautiful and also the most extra because of course your first instinct would be to pose for him. That was how you met, after all. He had been out practicing street photography a few years ago when he bumped into you. You had the decency to be politely curious why he was taking pictures of strangers and after he shared his project, you agreed (even though he never asked) to let him take pictures of you. You started posing immediately and even walked around the block to pose with whatever you found interesting, whether it was the wall of a building or a newspaper stand. He probably loved you then. He definitely loves you now.

It’s too bad he doesn’t have his camera with him. His phone will have to do, so he pulls it out, angles himself and the phone at just the right spot, and takes several shots. Your eyes have shut close again, the trickle of soft snow cascading down onto your face and hair. Oh, the way his smile only widens as you bat your eyes in an attempt to blink the snowflakes away. He waves his phone and you suddenly remember what you were here for and you smile for the camera. Smile for him. 

“Sit down and take a picture with me!” You pout and pat the space next to you.

Who is he to say no? Several very blurry photos later (because what’s the point of getting drunk if you weren’t going to take blurry pics?), you were finally done with the cold. You cup his face and kiss his pink-tipped nose.

“You’re cold, Yoongi. Let’s go home.”

“Mmm… Let’s go.”

He takes your hand in his and tucks both your hands inside his coat pocket, knowing full well that you have a coat of your own with its own pockets. It’s true, his face is somewhat numb from the cold of the night, but he is quickly heating up wholly by the warmth of your shared love that the two of you have nurtured and tended to together.

“I hope you had fun tonight, baby.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you, Yoongi-poo.”

“So… what do you want most for Christmas?” He wonders if you’ll accidentally spill what you really want for Christmas but not even drunk you would sell yourself out to him.

“Didn’t I literally just sing ‘all I want for christmas is Yoooongiii’? Did I not make it clear enough?”

His lips spread into a bright upward curl and he giggles at the way you stare at him as if he was stupid for even asking such a question. As if it was obvious what you wanted. Of course, he knew you would say that. He honestly just wanted to hear you say it again. And... oh no. Now you’re singing again. Hollering, more like. Ah, well. It’s only for one night. He pulls you closer beside him and sings along with you, albeit in a much quieter tone.

Your apartment is back in eyeview and he pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s only a minute left until Christmas. He continues to watch the time pass by the seconds until there are only fifteen seconds left before midnight.

Then he starts counting out loud, in a teasing lilt that he knows is sure to pique your curiosity.

“What exactly are you counting down to?” You ask, puzzled.

You’ve sobered down quite a bit now, and you were ready to go sleep. He ignores you though and continues to count. By 5 seconds, you’ve stopped walking, although you’re still mumbling about how rude it was of him to ignore you. He reaches up to tuck your hair back behind your ears to get a better look at your face. Your stupidly beautiful face.

“I’m granting your Christmas wish in three… two… one... Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

He cups your face. It’s cold, and he makes a mental note to make sure to warm you up with a bath once you’re home. You gasp a second later and wrap your arms around him, staring up at him with a wide grin plastered on your face.

“Ohmygoddidyoubuymeapuppy??!!!”

He snorts and it’s out of sheer self restraint that he doesn’t go on an hour long tirade on the terrible idea of buying animals as holiday gifts and how he refuses to ever partake in it. He instead channels that energy into squishing your cheeks together so you don’t say anything else that could potentially ruin the mood he’s trying to set.

“Baby?”

“Whuh?”

“You make me really happy, you know that?” His voice softens up and he gently rubs your cheeks with his thumbs.

Your wide, wide eyes are still staring at him, unblinking, but he’s been under the scrutiny of your ridiculously lubricated eyes for long enough that he’s unbothered.

“And even though you’re still kinda loopy and you definitely spilled beer on me tonight, I still want you to know…”

He pauses for dramatics and chuckles when your hands fly up to grasp his hands that still cup your face.

“Yes?” You plead with him to carry on.

“I love you. I love you so much my heart is fit to burst.”

The soft inhale of breath is not lost on him and he grins at you. The sweet smile and blush that quickly overtakes your features is easily the best gift you could ever give him this Christmas.

“Oh my god. I think my heart just nutted.”

He snorts and sighs in defeat. Right. Only you could say something like that and still make his heart leap.

“I love you too. Can we go home now, though? My butt’s cold.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the best part,” he teases.

Before you could ask what the best part was, he draws your face to his and presses his lips against yours. The warm exhale as you part your lips for him comes as a welcome surprise. You giggle into the kiss and pull him closer against you.

“You just kissed me,” you whispered as if he had committed a scandalous act.

“Baby, I always kiss you.”

“You’re right.” You grab hold of his hand and walk briskly towards your home, tugging a smiling Yoongi behind you. “Let’s go home so you can kiss me some more!”

a/n 2.0: HELLO THERE FRIENDO. how are you. happy holidays or i guess, happy day if you’re reading this in like, the summer time or something :”) thank you for reading this. did you like it? penny for your thoughts? (i will give u a pretty one forreal) isn’t yoongi the sweetest most amazing boyfriend eveerrrrr plz gush over him with me PLS

[whitherliliesbloom]

in a place where dreams continue

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #25 - silver lining ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,422 words ]  ★ [ mermaid au ]

silver lining- advantage that comes from a difficult or unpleasant situation

getting caught in a terrible storm and being thrown overboard may just be the worst thing that has ever happened to alphinaud - or the best.

The Ignia Satella is the safest ship across the seven seas - as Captain Carvallain would be so quick to boast. Even with Alphinaud’s own trepidations and doubts about setting foot anywhere near the ocean, it was only because of the sheer size and reputation of the ship and its crew that the young prince of old Sharlayan finally agreed to take his first maiden voyage across the seven seas to visit Eorzea and meet with the nation leaders of its four city states as per his duty as son of king Fourchenault.

Sometimes, he’d wished that he let his own fears get the better of him, however... because not even halfway through the journey, a storm of crashing waves and deafeningly loud lightning broke, rocking the boat so violently that he had inevitably been thrown off the railings and overboard into the cruel, cold abyss of the dark ocean below.

Alphinaud could not even hope to survive in still waters, let alone in the midst of a storm as waves upon waves carried him further away from the ship. The frantic voices of the crewmates were growing more distant - not that he’d hear them when his ears are clogged full of seawater and the sounds of the thunder mocking his demise. 

Death by drowning had been one of the young prince’s worst nightmares, and to have it be realized so soon after he’d decided to metaphorically and literally take the plunge filled his heart with a crippling, painful regret that ached his heart as he allowed his consciousness to slip.

He doesn’t know how long he’s passed out for - or if he even is alive anymore. But his eyelids flutter open to the blinding sun above his head - cotton candy clouds dusted among a baby blue morning sky. 

His body feels heavy - like a sack of popotos and he can barely even feel his limbs as his navy blue eyes struggle to regain his focus. He no longer feels like he’s floating - or rather sinking... he realizes then that he’s lying on the back and he can feel the rough, grainy feel of sand sticking to his bare skin.

It takes a good several minutes for him to finally come to his senses enough to remember the flashing of lightning, the battering of waves against the wooden haul of a boat and the loud sound of a splash as he fell overboard-

By... by the twelve, he fell overboard. He should be dead.

“A-are you okay?” He hears a voice beside his ear, no louder than a whisper and sweet like a songbird’s. “Can you hear me?”

Alphinaud turns his head to the side, vision still a tad blurry, but focused enough now to be able to make out the shape of a veil of long, cascading hair that reflected the light of the sun over glistening skin, and a pair of gleaming violet eyes that swirled with the color of the galaxies.

When the young prince fails to respond, the stranger draws herself closer with her elbows, the silver circlet she wore like a crown glowing incandescently in the sun and framing her head like a halo. 

Her features are ethereal, unnaturally so. From the beauty of her glowing eyes to the light fairness of her damp skin. Even with stray strands of pure white hair clinging to the sides of her face and neck, she looks like an angel without compare.

“Ah...” 

He surmises that he’s dead, and closes his eyes with a lengthy sigh. 

“To think...I would find myself in the after life so soon and be greeted by an angel....”

Before he can lament his short lifespan any further, he feels his cheek being pinched - not hard enough to hurt terribly... but just enough of a sting to jolt him back to his senses and open his eyes in shock once again.

“O-Ow!” He finally rolls back, sitting himself up with a loud pant and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, feeling the wrinkled skin upon the pads of his fingers with a grimace. 

When he finally moves his hands away he’s staring out at an endless ocean, the deep blue waters meeting the lighter sky in the distant horizons with not a ship or hint of land in sight. 

He feels the light nudging of the waters against his legs as the tides push and pull, as if to wake him up from his daydream.

He’s.... not dead. 

No, it would appear that he’s washed up on a beach somehow- whether near or far from Sharlayan, he could not tell. And try as he might, he could not find strength in his legs nor his arms to push himself up to stand.

And thus he can only turn his head to look at the one who had woken him from his unconsciousness, and it is only then that he fully takes in the peculiarity of the woman before him.

The girl’s no angel - even if she looks fully the part... but the light blue fabric of her wet dress does nothing to conceal the long, fish-like tail that sat in place of where her legs should be - the iris purple to cerulean blue ombre of her scales holo and iridescent, reflecting the light as brightly as her hair and eyes. 

Though her skin from her chest above is bare and clear, he also notices blue scales climbing up the sides of her neck and cheeks as if to draw more attention to her delicate features.

“Um...” Her lips part, snapping out of his daydream, “Are you... are you okay now? You’re not still delirious are you?”

Words nearly die at his throat, Alphinaud finds it difficult to speak... but he forces himself to anyway, cringing internally at how hollow and strained his voice sounded. 

“I... Yes, I’m... I think I’m alright. I’m not dead, at the very least...”

The girl visibly relaxes, but stiffens again when she notes the boy’s eyes surveying from head to fin and then back up again.

“Y-you’re... a mermaid???” 

The snow haired girl jolts, expression twisting into realization and fluster.

“O-Oh- Oh no... I...” 

Her cheeks burn a bright red shade, spreading across her nose and to the tips of her pointed ears, and Alphinaud bites back the urge to compliment her cuteness.

“I should’ve left... I’m not supposed to be..” She’s stammering on her words, head tilting to the side and averting her eyes from his gaze. He hears sand crunching as she props her elbows up to push herself back towards the waters. “I-I’ll be going now-”

“W-wait!” the boy raises his voice - though he hadn’t meant to... but the young mermaid girl seemed startled enough to still herself and swallow a gulp before hesitantly turning her violet eyes to look back up at him. “I-i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, miss. I just... have many questions.. and I’m not sure I’d be able to get any answers if you leave me here.”

Alphinaud’s come to terms with the very real possibility that he’s stranded - it would make sense for how uninhabited his surroundings seem - with a dense canopy of trees of a tropical forest behind him, a pile of rocks not too far from the sandy beach they sat upon sheltering what seemed to be a coastal cove. 

And though he knows the girl belonged within the safety of the waters, the exact opposite of where a floundering young man like him would thrive, losing the only person here who could potentially speak and understand him scares him as a prospect more than living his days out on a stranded island. 

“You were also the one who saved me, weren’t you?” Alphinaud takes an educated guess, and judging by the sheepish dart of the girl’s gaze away from him before a small, timid nod, he was right. “I’ve yet to thank you fully yet... for saving my life. So, won’t you stay miss? I promise I won’t make you talk about anything you’re not comfortable with.”

It takes a long moment and what felt like an eternity for the girl to contemplate and ponder over her thoughts- whatever it may be... but Alphinaud patiently awaits her answer and finally lets out a wide, warm smile when the girl finally nods once again, tucking and folding her tail behind her and sitting herself up, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“O-okay... I’ll stay.”

[mattzerella-sticks]

metamorphosis

Chapter 1 (ao3)

Prologue (ao3) (tumblr)

What if, when Jack was born, he stayed a baby?

A retelling of season 13, with a few key differences.

No planned schedule, will update when I finish chapters lol

Chapter 1 - Dean I

           “Cas?”

           Dean waited, watching Cas’s lips. He waited for his name to be spoken, said in that same mixture of fondness and exasperation and gravel that ticked the tempo of his heart up a notch. He waited for his angel to smile, then tell Dean that he’s fine; that it wasn’t more than a scratch, that he’s still here.

           Any minute now.

           “…Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded scratchy, raw, like a needle ripped through a spinning record. He blinked back his tears, embarrassed, because Cas might wake soon and see him break, see him not be strong enough. His gaze broke from Cas’s bluing lips, staring at the starless sky above. He saw night begin its transition to early morning, a sun sliver dipping into the horizon, and wondered how long Cas will play with him like this. How long will Cas pretend to lie there? How long will Cas insist that he’s –

           “Cas!” Even with the extra help from gravity, Dean couldn’t stop the pinprick tears tracing their way down to his ears, wetness setting his skin aflame. He choked on a sob, the rubber band of his body snapping and recoiling into itself. His shoulders shook. He squeezed tight to his stomach. Dean closed his eyes, but inside that shuttered darkness was Cas, emerging from the portal. Cas with the blade in his hand. Cas with a blade, poking out his chest. “Oh… oh, God…”

           He’s really gone. He’s gone and Dean hurt. Dean hurt so much.

           Dean cracked one eye open, then another. In his periphery, he saw the tips of Cas’s limp fingers lying in the dirt along with the rest of his body.

           It was something he has wanted to do for some time now. Dean noticed what happens halfway into its journey, his trembling hand hovering over Cas’s. He lowered it cautiously. When there’s barely an inch of space separating his middle finger from Cas’s knuckles, Dean stopped. Dean couldn’t close that final gap. He stared at the emptiness between them, small but terrifyingly infinite, and was frozen in terror.

           “Dean!”

           Sam’s call stirred him from that horrid trance, urgency reminding Dean of all else that happened. Of Crowley’s sacrifice, of the portal closing, of mom on the other side; those events crashed into him like a terrible wave, washing him out into a roaring sea that denied him any sense or reason. Standing, legs ready to give out on him at any moment, Dean stumbled towards where he last heard his brother.

           He forgot about the steps. Sam caught him, guiding him past the threshold and into the cabin with lumbering haste. Dean’s vision returned to him soon, though. He drew Sam further to his side, for a loose hug, then shoved his brother’s oafish frame off of him. Dean supported himself using the wall instead. “What?” he asked, growling, “What is it?”

           Sam tried to speak but got cutoff by a shrill cry coming from another room. Sam shrugged, jerking his head to where, Dean guesses, the crying originated. He’d also take a stab at who’s responsible for crying, too.

           Kelly’s son. Lucifer’s son. The whole damned reason Dean’s life lay shattered in the clearing out back.

           Hearing those whines and sobs rattle the cabin’s chilly silence helped harden what remained of his heart, enough so that the baby’s shrieking echoed in the hollow chambers of Dean’s chest. It made what he must ask next much easier. “You didn’t kill him yet?”

           Sam visibly startled, jaw clenched that familiar way Dean knows meant an argument brewed within; his brother’s puppy dog features deceived, hiding his true feelings. Again, as Sam readied to speak, the baby took his cue and interrupted with a damning wail. Sam pressed his lips into a thin, mangled line while he waited his turn.

           A minute passed, and it’s doubtful the little guy would lose steam soon. Dean sighed. He pushed off the wall, passing Sam as he followed the noisy little bastard. Sam stayed right behind him, heavy footsteps and chiding tone mixing with the crying to shred Dean’s nerves into oblivion. “You are not doing this, Dean,” Sam hissed, tugging on his elbow, “we need to talk about it first –“

           “Who can talk over all this racket!” He wrenched his arm free, storming into the baby’s nursery while Sam dawdled under the doorframe. Their entrance meant little to the newborn, who continued crying despite their entrance. “And I’m not killing him –“ he kept his yet stored in the barrel of his mouth, unfired, conscious of how it will be received in the moment – “gonna shut him up for a while, s’all…” Dean punctuated his claim by grabbing the baby, Jack if the painted name on the crib meant anything, and tucking him into the crook of his arm. He bounced him like he did Sam decades ago, like he would for any normal baby, cooing sweet nothing that tumbled out of him as if they were sand in a broken hourglass, shards mixed within. Dean spied a rocking chair in the corner and, with Sam’s piercing gaze studying him, Dean collapsed into it.

           That seemed to work. Dean’s gentle rocking, paired with a hummed lullaby cherrypicked from his past, put the hellion in his arms at ease. Jack stared up, transfixed by what Dean guessed is the tall lamp casting a gentle glow on them both; a lamp Sam, now in the room and by his side, flicked on after Dean sat down. It must be the center of his focus, because Dean wouldn’t believe the baby looked at him like he did; like he’s a bright and beautiful thing, deserving of attention, of being the center of his known universe. He didn’t want that, especially from him.

           Dean swallowed a curse and ended their contest, sure if he looked into the baby’s eyes any longer, he would damn the consequences and wring the life from this tiny body nestled in his hands. He waited for Jack’s fit to tamper lower and lower, rising only after a moment of uninterrupted silence. Dean carried Jack back, returning him to his crib. He added another mistake into the column of ever-increasing errors and glanced at Lucifer’s kid a final time. He examined him, searching for little horns or a tail or tattoos of sixes; he found nothing. Nothing that proved he’s more than a child, innocent and carefree.

           Sam hung by his shoulder, buzzing halo bothersome in Dean’s ear. “I think he likes you.”

           Dean huffed under breath, “I wish I could say the same.”

           He left. Sam trailed in his wake; tread heavy from being constipated with a smug righteousness Dean dreaded will be shat all over him when Sam had the chance. He was silent until the kitchen, then Sam struck. “His mother just died, Dean.”

           Dean shrugged, “So did ours.” He expected that to feel weird saying, but it hadn’t. Sam gaped at him, like it had. Maybe Dean’s in shock. Maybe he was too used to having a dead mom. Dean carried on regardless. “If you think a sob story’s gonna convince me of anything, try hitting me when the kids got enough pages to fill a book larger than Moby Dick’s, or ours. Right now, he’s a table of contents and not much else.”

           “Exactly,” Sam needled, poking Dean’s chest. Dean swat him away with the refrigerator door, creating a makeshift barrier to protect himself from Sam’s crusade. He dug around for something to drink, something boozy, as Sam prattled. “Look, Dean, we… I know our thing is – our thing is killing monsters but, Dean, he’s a baby. He – he didn’t do anything –“

           “He was conceived,” Dean said, “that’s enough for me.” His groping fingers pushed aside the carton of milk for a third time; he still couldn’t find the beer.

           “That wasn’t his fault.” Sam rested his hand over Dean’s where it rested on the refrigerator door, pleading for Dean to look at him by touch alone. Dean relented, darting his eyes for a fleeting glance. Sam’s brows were drawn in like a steep hill, and he appeared absolutely ghastly because of the refrigerator’s light. Dean fell back to his mission. “Lucifer… he set this in motion, and we’ve dealt with him.”

           “And what did it cost us?”

           Sam sighed. “Everyone we lost knew what this was about,” he told Dean, “knew how it might end. They were ready to risk their lives for this.”

           “We were here to take down Lucifer, end of story,” Dean spat, knocking items onto the floor in his fervor. He tore through like a whirlwind, throwing food everywhere. Eggs, lettuce, ketchup and pickles – no beer though. Dammit. “And with the kid kicking, we haven’t even finished our mission.”

           “Jack is not Lucifer!” Sam squeezed Dean’s wrist, begging for more attention. Dean’s spiteful, rigid glare burned a hole in the back of the fridge. He refused to move even an inch. “He’s a baby, and we… we kill monsters. We kill the ones who have no chance of being saved. He was just born, Dean. He had no choice in that.”

           “Who’s to say that he won’t choose to be a monster, once he’s old enough?”

           Sam strangled his wrist, now, Dean’s fingers numbing because of his brother’s impassioned grip. “We’ll make sure. We’ll raise him right.”

           This drew Dean out of the refrigerator. “We?” he laughed, bitterness churning in his gut. “We, really? You think…” Dean didn’t finish, speechless at the insanity Sam presented. He and Sam, raising Lucifer’s kid? He and Sam, sheltering the baby who ruined their lives? He and Sam… “I hate to break it to you, Sammy,” he continued, his voice returning, “but this ain’t the nineties. We can’t have it all, clearly. And we are not taking that kid in like some muddy stray.”

           “Cas wanted to raise him.”

           Dean gagged. The toxic rush of seconds ago disappeared, spilling out from the seam Sam pulled loose.

           Sam, at least, was aware enough to briefly mime an apology. His face contorted into a pained expression, exaggerated to better mangle his earlier fury. However, that’s smoothed and replaced with sterner features as he detached himself from his words, and the ugliness that they inspired. He stood tall, committed to the outburst, and from the curl of his scowl, Dean wouldn’t expect him to take back what’s been said. It will linger like the other ghosts.

           If that was how he wanted to do this.

           “Sure,” Dean agreed, “and that got him what, exactly?” He slammed the refrigerator door, startling both of them and the baby. Jack’s wailing picked up where he left off, although sharper and more annoying. Dean pushed into Sam, instinct urging him to soothe like he did earlier. Dean stopped himself, hesitating. He spun on his heel, leaving where he came in.

           Sam shouted, “You can’t just run away Dean!”

           “I’m getting some air, is all!” he yelled back, ripping the door off its hinges in his haste to leave.

           A terrifying gust rammed into him almost immediately, giving him the very air he craved. Then, a second wind blows in the opposite direction; stealing his breath as his gaze landed on the body of his angel, immobile, with black skid marks in a shoddy recreation of what might be wings splayed beside him like oddly bent branches. Dean blindly descended, too focused with Cas’s form than the stairs. When his feet reached solid, uneven ground, Dean slowed to a glacial pace. Cas didn’t react.

           Dean tried not to, too. Hand at his cheek, wiping some more stray tears, Dean failed.

           He ripped himself away, jogging from the backyard space towards the front where his true escape was. Dean white knuckled his keys, jagged teeth biting into the palm of his hand. Pain kept him from spiraling, from thinking, from staying there. And when he couldn’t use pain, key nestled in the ignition instead of his hand, Dean had the next best thing – open roads.

           The engine roared, overpowering the blood rushing past his ears. Dean demolished the speed limit easily, bulleting across the asphalt, pedal his trigger. It’s early enough he needn’t worry about highway patrolmen or wayward pedestrians. He drove fast, loose, and recklessly. Fuck Vin Diesel, Dean thought. Vin had nothing on him.

           Kelly’s cabin was a blurry spot in his rearview mirror, a speck he might scratch off with his nail if he pleased. Trees became indistinguishable from each other. Not that it mattered, Dean’s tunnel vision blocking his periphery. His eyes remained fixed ahead of him, uncharacteristically so. It took most his focus to keep like that, hands cramping on the wheel from throttling it. He counted dash after dash and tallied potholes as he hit them, stuffing his mind with senseless figures other than the lone one he abandoned in the field.

           Soon, Dean reached a nearby town. The greenery became sparser, leaves and wood replaced by buildings and city blocks and lampposts and streetlights. He hit his first light, a blip of red flashing for attention. Thoughtlessly, Dean flattened his foot against the brake; Baby’s tires squealing as she fought momentum. Dean knocked against his dashboard from the force, falling back only after his car fully stopped. He couldn’t see the streetlight dangling above. Dean knew he sat over the line, his Baby’s hood hanging in the intersection, asking for an accident.

           A second later, and what he was driving from caught up to him.

           Dean gasped, curling in on himself, hands glued to the wheel. His body seized with sobs that bruise, each tremor punching his gut. He used what little strength he had and glanced at his reflection. That speck on his rearview, that he foolishly clawed at, didn’t disappear; it was caught in his bloodshot eyes.

           He couldn’t continue driving like this.

           Red light, green light, it didn’t matter now. Dean crawled along to the nearest lot that belonged to a tacky chain eatery. Parking inside, Dean threw his car door open and spilled free of his Baby. He fell to his knees, hissing, denim ripping on impact and gravel scratching his skin. Dean staggered to his feet. Blood trickled down his leg from the open wound on his knee. He walked forward, dazed, while Baby idled at an angle, keys trapped in her ignition. If it were later in the day, someone might steal her. If Dean were acting like himself, he might care.

           He didn’t go far. Dean slowed as he approached the fast-food joint, stopping inches from the backdoor. His bottom lip wobbled, Dean raking his hair with twitching fingers. He stared at the door, at the wooden sign hanging by a single, rusted nail. It depicted a stereotypical pirate, with hat, beard, and eyepatch, painted on a blue background and encircled by cartoonish rope that framed this pirate’s face along with an oblong addition underneath of the word ‘BUCCANEERS’. The pirate glared ahead, at some far point, as if Dean weren’t there blocking it.

           But he was. Dean was here, while everyone else – everyone he cared about…

           “Why me?” he muttered, “Why’s it always… why do I have to deal with it, with the after, with picking up the pieces of someone else’s mess.” Dean growled, head bowed, eyes unflinchingly locked with the pirate’s. “Mom… Crowley… Ca” – he stuttered on his name, wounds still too fresh – “you’re gonna bring him back. You’re gonna bring them all back. After everything I’ve done for this shithole, that I’ve been through, it’s the least that I’m owed. I deserve to… I – I don’t deserve this.”

           The pirate ignored his pleas, it couldn’t answer him. And Chuck, apparently, wouldn’t answer him.

           “…Okay.”

           Dean launched himself at the pirate, picturing a brown beard instead of black, and a grayish blue eye where a black one was painted. He smashed it with one punch, face splintering and spraying everywhere. Dean continued wrecking it, nearly destroying the door in his fury. Aiming a final blow, Dean hit the sign off the nail and sent it flying from view.

           Exhausted, knuckles as bloody as his knee, Dean collapsed near the stacked crates and leaning pallets.

           A shudder traveled across his body, from the top of his head, dragged along each vertebra like a sharp, clawed finger, and finally making his legs seize and stretch out in front of him. Dean vacuumed in a deep breath, chest ballooning to contain it. He won’t release it willingly.

           “Dude…”

           Coughing, Dean glanced up at some teenager standing nearby, gaping at the scene. He wore a large brown jacket a shade lighter than his skin over a deep blue polo that matches the visor currently worn like a headband, so his bangs wouldn’t  his face. A ring of keys dangled in his hands. Keys that, Dean guessed, were for opening the very door he pummeled as if it were a punching bag.

           “Hey, man,” the teen asked, glancing between Dean and the wrecked door, “are you… like, good? Do I need to call someone?”

           A repairman. The teen’s manager. Neither would do Dean any good, but both will need to know about the damage he did to the property.

           Dean groaned, climbing to his feet. He swayed with the breeze, a lone willow in this blacktop clearing. Some of the blood from his knuckles drippled like morning dew would off its leaves. He advanced, the teen tensing as he moves closer. Their shoulders brushed, the younger of the two stumbling back a few inches, cowering in Dean’s presence. Dean thought he should say something, let him know there’s nothing to be afraid of.

           That felt like too much of a damned lie, so he caught the words in his throat and swallowed them down.

           He returned to his car, starting it like nothing happened, like his skin hadn’t torn and tears weren’t drying on his cheeks as he refused to wipe them off. Dean tapped the pedal and drove off. He drove the same path he took earlier, only in reverse. He drove to Kelly’s cabin, and all that waited for him there.

           Dean parked sloppily, again; however, pocketing his keys this time as he left Baby. He didn’t acknowledge the front door, shuffling into the backyard for another glimpse of Cas’s body.

           Cas was gone. His wings were still there, and Sam was, too.

           Sam dropped a stack of branches onto a large pile he must have begun gathering after Dean fled. He rubbed at his neck, steadily avoiding where Dean’s gaze was by looking at the pile. “I moved him,” he explained, “I figured we might as well start on the… on the pyres for him, and Kelly.” Sam paused. He grabbed a lone branch, snapping a twig from it. “I didn’t do anything else. Figured you would want to…”

           “Yeah.” Dean blinked, then imagined the shadows burnt into the ground rising and rising, flapping determinately, until they vanished. He blinked. Those wings hadn’t moved an inch.

           Dean headed into the cabin.

           He spied Cas’s body immediately, laid atop the kitchen table. Sam rearranged him during transit, closing his eyes and setting Cas’s arms at his sides. If he weren’t thinking about it constantly, weren’t reminded of Cas’s current state with every beat of his own heart, Dean might believe Cas was asleep. Or, at the very least, imitating it, since angels can’t sleep. They can’t eat. There’s a lot they can’t do. And Cas won’t ever not do any of that, not anymore.

           Sighing, Dean circled the table while tracing the edges of it with his fingertips. He reached the other side, where a gauzy pair of curtains hung. Dean swung his arm outward, going through the motions to free them. It’s quick work.

           Wrapping Cas with these curtains will take a lifetime.

            Dean started by lifting Cas’s head and slipping a strip underneath. He cradled him, unnaturally soft tufts of hair tickling his fingers. Holding Cas in such a manner encouraged further action, tempted Dean to do more. He succumbed to these voices, the fast few hours since they last sung weakened his resolve. Dean ran his bloodied knuckles across Cas’s face. He stained deathly pale skin red. He hissed, stubble like sandpaper against his cuts. He left no wrinkle untouched.

           Finally, Dean switched to his thumb and pressed it just below Cas’s lips.

           It’s maddening, touching Cas like this, like he always wanted. He dreamt of being able to for longer than he could remember. Daydreams and fantasies of Dean, curled into Cas’s side, leisurely and lovingly memorizing every inch of the other’s face. Those moments were always pretend, too human to ever be real, to expect from an angel like Cas. Now, as his thumb swept along the bow of Cas’s lips, Dean paid his respects to the thousands of imagined mornings and nights that would not be. Dean worshiped Cas in a way he never wanted to, but in the only way he’d ever be allowed to.

           “I’m sorry…” Dean placed a featherlight kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth. Then, unable to bear looking at him, he wrapped the curtain over his face.

           He shrouded the rest of Cas’s body with military precision, robotically completing his ritual. Dean hovered at his side, tightly clutching the final knot in Cas’s wrappings. His head hung listlessly, the foundations of a prayer forming on his tongue. He gnashed his teeth together, smashing it, and the sentiment’s remains tumbled backwards. It ripped apart his insides like glass. The only person who would listen, who’d care, who might heal this hurt, couldn’t.

           Cas was –

           Dean let go, marching into the backyard. Silently Dean joined Sam, amassing wood in his stead while Sam assembled the pyres.

           Together, they completed their duties by sundown. It might have been sooner if Sam didn’t slack off to play nursemaid to Lucifer’s kid. He ran off at the slightest bit of static coming from the garish, incongruently colored baby monitor clipped onto his belt loop, dragging their duties out because of intermittent breaks. When they finally set Cas and Kelly on their respective pyres, the sky darkened to the same shade it was that they lost both of them.

           Dean handled the fire. He struck two matches from a box buried in a kitchen drawer, then tossed them into the kindling. Sam, meanwhile, held a very fussy baby that showed no respect for ceremony. His piercing shrieks rung out clearly, somehow amplified by the open space. And as Jack’s cries mixed with the roar and crackle of flames, along with Sam mindlessly grunting back in a desperate plea for Jack to stop, Dean gave in. He stole Jack from Sam, nestling the baby against his chest.

           His temper lessened while in Dean’s arms, and Jack soon quieted.

           Dean felt Sam’s stare on his profile once more, an uncomfortable heat much different than what radiated from the cremating bodies before them. He hated it, being gawked at like some zoo animal. Yet Dean refused to turn, to bark at Sam that this momentary lapse meant nothing.

           He’s only exhausted. Too tired to shutter the devastation on his face, every crack of Dean’s heart was on full display. He’s not in the mood to fight with Sam, either, aware he needed him more than he needed to lash out. He’s broken and couldn’t even manage the energy to toss Jack into the fires like he imagined himself doing.

           Instead, Dean embraced him. He watched the smoke of his angel’s body drift upwards, Cas leaving him for good, forever, and rested his chin against the small, soft head of Cas’s destroyer.

Tagged List:

@llamasdumpsterfire

[wordynerdygurl]

Act 1, Scene 1

Author’s Note:  @your-highnessmarvel​ offered up a challenge a couple of months ago and I took on a prompt.  Then the world went and got screwy, which is not an excuse for my tardiness, but is maybe an explanation as to why this is being submitted so late.  My thanks to @your-highnessmarvel​ for baring with me and letting participate in such a cool event!

Also, I hope everyone is going well... staying healthy and observing personal distancing guidelines!   Also, also, you know I love the love, so comment, reblog, request a story, send an ask, join the tag list, follow me and/ or otherwise feed my need for validation! Also, Also, also, @sammy-jo1977​ is my cheerleader, reader and writing buddy!  Thanks for being so great to me!! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader with Natasha stopping in for a visit Summary: My challenge prompt was Loki, On a Street Corner, Right after the rain. It was a hot and steamy night, after drinking at the bar.  Loki sets the stage for you, if you’re brace enough to perform. Warnings:  SMUT, Thigh riding, fingering, voyeurism, mention of FMF threesome

"How much room does one person actually need?  God!"

You couldn't help the frustration from filling your voice.  Loki, taking up the entire park bench, his legs spread as wide as possible, was now eyeing you darkly from under a curtain of rain damp raven hair.  "Everywhere I sit is my throne."

"This?  This is your new throne?  A shitty, splintered park bench across from a bar called The Blue Shamrock?  Ha!"  

Draping his long arms along the wet back of said bench, Loki lifted his head skyward, "I bring regality to the mundane.  This seat, once decrepit and damaged, is now reborn."

Snorting, you kicked at his booted foot, "Come on.  Move, Loki.  Move or I'll sit on you."  

It's meant to sound menacing.  A warning.  But Loki chuckles lightly, "You, little kitten, are drunk."

Striding confidently into the gap between his knees, you laughed teasingly, "No, you are."

Even though the rain had stopped the air was heavy with it.  Sticky, sweaty, wilted, you brushed Loki's hair off his face, giggling, "It was the shots.  Why do you let me drink tequila?"

Sitting forward, Loki raised an eyebrow, "Why?  Do you really want to know, little one?"

Nodding, shifting your weight off the ball of your tired feet, your long, lethal God raked a heated gaze over you.  Turning from you, he sighed into the steamy night, "Because once you have too much tequila, you can't stop dancing."

Licking over his bottom lip, longing lust in Loki’s baby blues, he added, "You start shaking those hips… your ass, and well, it is just about the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

Giggling again, you sway a bit, still light headed from the bar, “Oh really?” Lightning quick, arms circling your waist pull you to his sweat soaked chest, throwing you off balance.  One minutes you’re on your toes, the next you're straddling his strong thigh, clutching onto Loki’s shoulders.  Already a bit dizzy, the smell of Loki mixed with the summer rain, dark liquor, and wet ground makes your head swim.  

A nearby street lamp illuminates the drizzle drenched pavement in weakening, widening, circles.  Loki's makeshift throne rests on the outer edges of that halo, half in shadow, half in light.  It's a good thing, too, because his hands are under your skirt, scratching against the sensitive skin where your bottom becomes thigh.

Tugging down your rising hem, "Hmm… Loki, someone might see."  Murmuring into his ear, you aren't able to hide the aching want in your tone, the raw need he's building with each scrape of his articulate fingers.  But that didn’t mean that you wanted an audience.

Laughing sharply, Loki drags you closer, "That’s true.  Although, you didn't care who might see you when you were on the dance floor.  Pressing yourself against me… against Natasha, like a bitch in heat.  You cared only for your own pleasure, regardless of the spectacle you caused."

“Loki… I…”  You never got the rest of the words out.  Growling softly, Loki tangled a hand in your hair, pulling you towards his hungry mouth.  Parting thoughtlessly, your lips eagerly accepted his tempting tongue.  Your arms, without prompt, curled around his neck, fingers twisting into Loki’s jet black locks.    

Settling further into Loki’s kiss, your center rocked against his denim covered leg.  Your panties, thin cotton and barely there, ensured that you felt every bulge and ripple of his meaty quad.  Responding in the only way it knew how, your body bucked, already wet and warm, “Loki...?” Breathing hard, Loki pulled back, “Yes?” “Not here.  Please?  Somewhere private, Ok?”  An image of your big bed with sex rumpled sheets crossed your mind.  Paradise, and only a short walk from this very bench. “Now my girl is shy?”  Tucking a swath of hair behind your ear, Loki set you standing, “Alright… Let’s go somewhere private.” Stepping away, fingers laced with Loki’s, you start in the direction of home only to be yanked back.  “What the hell?” “This way… a shortcut.”  Stepping behind you, Loki prods you with a small shove at your lower back.  Rounding a corner, he pushes you into a dim alley, away from any stray glances.  As soon as darkness covered you both, Loki’s mouth was on you, nipping at the sensitive skin under your ear, causing you to whimper, “Oh!” There’s a heady rush to the way Loki moves you, like his personal puppet, under his control. Part of you wants to stop him, shout at him, push him away.  That would make the most sense.  But being with Loki had nothing to do with sense.

So you let him lead you through an oil stained puddle, stumbling against the cobblestones, those strong arms breaking your fall.  It's all Loki needs to press his advantage.  The bricks, cool against your back, are a surprising yet welcome respite from the mugginess of the evening.  

In the distance you can hear the thump of dance music and the din of drinkers inside the bar.  Closer at hand, a loud gasp leaves you as Loki roughly lifts you by the knees, his carelessness making you wetter.  Searing, Loki’s kisses are sloppy along your throat, down to the deep vee of your shirt.  Petting your breasts, under your shirt, over your bra, causes goosebumps to breakout over your exposed skin.

“Hmm… such a needy little thing, aren’t you, kitten?  Are you wet?  I’ll bet you are… I’ll bet you have been all night.  Just hoping that I’d take you like this… or would you rather it was Natasha?” Loki’s words were scalding, just the suggestion of something between you and Black Widow made your back arch in want.  Before you could answer, his hands, always so clever, sought and found the soaked gusset of your panties.  Sliding the flimsy fabric to the side, one long teasing digit slid into your fevered flesh, a mere taste of what Loki wanted to give you in the dirty, dank, darkness.    Clawing Loki’s shoulders, you use the wall as leverage, raising your pelvis as you conquer the space between your bodies.  A sudden desperate need takes over.  Whether it’s fueled by the oppressive heat, the strong alcohol in your system, your wantonness, or Loki’s urging, you want it all.  And you need it now.

“No.  Not her.  You.  Always you, Loki”  With your legs hooked over his hips, you clench around his invasion, drawing a guttural groan from your God. Suddenly empty, Loki hoists you higher, focused on freeing his straining length.  Those seconds are precious and you use them to pepper his jaw with kisses.  Nibbling on his ear lobe, you whine, “Hurry, baby.  Please.” And then he’s filling you.  The force of his thrust is so strong that you flatten against the wall, fingers gripping the mortar, as the air leaves your lungs.  You turn your head, gulping for breath, as Loki withdraws, only to rut into you deeper than before. Cupping your mouth with his hand, Loki sneers, “You said somewhere private, not soundproof, pet.  You’re going to have to be quieter if you don’t want anyone else knowing how slutty you truly are." Eyes widening over his palm, you nod, as a sinful shiver snakes up your spine.  Loki’s free fingers find your clit, rubbing you in tight circles, mimicking the rhythm of his grinding groin.  You can’t think of anything dirtier than Loki taking you to the edge of pleasure in this filthy alley and it tightens your abdominals in anticipation of your climax. When Loki’s hand slips from your mouth, you’re biting your lip, keeping all your noises to yourself.  Muscles tensing, you’re seconds away from your peak when you notice a shadow over Loki’s shoulder.  You’re being watched.  And instead of worrying about your guest, your gaze locks with the newcomer, small moans growing into full on wails of ecstasy.

Silent steps bring the short silhouette closer, a smile visible in the gloom, as Natasha watches as you unravel around Loki.  Something about her witnessing your debauched display makes your quim quiver.  You notice how she licks over her bottom lip, seeing you spread out for Loki’s enjoyment, and you simper, needfully. “Go ahead, let it out pet.  Show everyone how pretty you are when you cum for me!”  Loki’s words trip your bliss, a spiraling, soaking mess of satisfaction.  Your velvet walls lock down against his steely strength.  With a low keen, Loki buries himself in your yielding cleft, his release long and large. Shaking, you ride out the after effects of your orgasm with Loki still inside of you.  Turning your face to his, Loki kisses you deeply, his tongue tasting the tequila you let overwhelm you earlier in the evening.  Nose to nose, you see Loki smile, “Natasha!  I hoped you’d find us.” “It was such a lovely show… but I wonder if there’s a second act?” Smiling at the woman in front of you, Loki’s cum coating your thighs, “I’d be happy to give you both a private performance.  Preferably someplace with a soft bed and air conditioning.” “I know just the place...”, Loki smirked at you, one eyebrow raised teasingly. ***

It was early morning when the final curtain went down on your one woman show.  Muscles soft, lips chapped, and voice hoarse, you finally found sleep as the sun lightened the sky.  Curled between a God and a hard woman, command performances would simply have to wait as even the most ambitious performers need to rest now and then.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My Rag-Tag Crew: @lokislittlecorner​ @just-random-obsessions​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @brokenthelovely​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @iamverity​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @jessiejunebug​ @lots-of-loki​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @mizfit2​ @archy2001 @jamielea81​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @thenatallie​ @wolfsmom1​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @sammy-jo1977​

[bronte-deserves-better]

Hi fuckers welcome to a really sad fic. I take no responsibility for what happens if you decide to read this, that's on you.

Title: and we fade in the dark

Wordcount: 2597

Summary: Bronte dies and everything is awful

Warnings: death, injury, graphic violence, blood, implied past suicidal thoughts.

Other Notes: Credit for the headcanons about how Oralie senses emotions goes to TheDarkChocolateLord on AO3. 

Also, some important and necessary context for this fic: Fintan and Bronte are siblings, they were adopted by two elves called Serenel and Ramil. 

A Keepsafe is a Councillor designated to protect their own safety no matter the cost so that there will always be at least one Councillor left alive to take charge in event of an emergency.

Also feat. nonbinary!Bronte

Actual fic under the cut

This was it, Oralie realized. This was the end. Whoever won the battle today would win the war- and it had to be them.

Grateful for her decision to wear more practical clothing today, she rushed through the flurry, hitting any black-cloaked figure that got in her way with her heels. Why oh why had she not taken Bronte up on their offer of proper weapons? Speaking of Bronte, where were they? Where were the rest of the Council? Over a few people’s heads, Oralie watched Clarette summon a few of her favored animal companions, reckoning the polygot would be fine on her own. Emery seemed to be doing okay as well, mostly because he and Darek had teamed up and were using telekinesis to their advantage, and Ramira was nowhere to be seen, as usual, so Oralie presumed she had fled. Ramira was by far more faithful to her job as a Keepsafe than the Darek.

Too occupied in thoughts of the others’ safety, Oralie barely noticed the blond elf in front of her until she had almost run into him.

“Why hello there, Oralie.”

That voice would haunt her dreams. “Fintan.”

“I see you and your lot aren’t doing so well.” He wore his trademark smirk, scanning the battlefield with that sharp gaze.

“I think we’re doing quite fine,” Oralie countered, knowing that to show weakness to Fintan meant death.

Fintan laughed, a snake of flame curling around his shoulders as he did so. “They all won’t be once you die.”

She stared at the fire, trying to keep her breathing level. “I’m by no means the most valuable member of the Council.”

“True, true, but you are the most loved.”

“I doubt that.”

Fintan took a step forward.

Oralie took a step backward.

And before either of them could make another move than that, Bronte was standing between them with a dagger leveled towards Fintan. “Get away from Oralie. Now.”

“What a way to talk to your brother.”

“Get. Away. From. Her.”

“Fine, fine.” Fintan rolled his eyes as he took a step back. “You’re such a protective asshole, you know.”

Bronte visibly flinched, but the dagger they had pointed at Fintan’s heart didn’t waver. “I protect the people I care about.”

It was Fintan’s turn to flinch. “Now that was just harsh.”

“Stop trying to kill my best friend and I won’t have to fight you.”

“No can do, I’m afraid. Leader of a rebel organization and all.”

“Then it comes down to us.”

Oralie could only watch helplessly as Bronte lunged forward, striking like a snake, only to be countered by a dagger of Fintan’s own. The fight ranged across the field, going right and left, back and forth, Bronte and Fintan trading blows as Oralie stood helplessly with high heels in hand, not daring to interfere in case she hit Bronte. Both of them hadn’t fought like this in years, she could tell, and they were as even a match as anything. What Bronte lacked by being slightly smaller, they made up for with precision, and what Fintan lacked in precision he made up for with strength. Watching them duel, Oralie realized that the fight should have been over a while ago. If either of the siblings dared use their ability, it would be easy enough to catch the other by surprise and incapacitate them. But both of them were holding back, only striking at each other with weapons. Determined to win- but unable to bring themselves to truly harm the other.

Thump, thump.

Oralie snapped out of her thoughts in time to see Gethen heading towards her, sword in hand, and thought quickly enough to dodge, leaping out of the way of his blow. He didn’t get her last time, he wasn’t going to get her this time either.

This time, Bronte was there, turning from their fight with Fintan to block another blow from Gethen. Their small dagger wasn’t a proper match for Gethen’s lumenite sword, but it was a blade and it did its job of blocking Gethen’s attack.

Oralie could feel determination radiating off Bronte, rough and strong like wood that hadn’t been sanded, watched Gethen’s smirk grow as Fintan’s eyes widened and his dagger, which would have been blocked by Bronte’s had they not turned, slashed across Bronte’s torso.

Oralie might have screamed. She couldn’t tell who was screaming, and for all she knew it could have been Fintan. His horror was strong enough to reach her, guilt prickling across her skin as Bronte collapsed.

“Bronte!” That was her voice this time, Oralie thought distantly, her scream ringing across the battlefield as she reached desperately for her best friend.

“Ora- Oralie.” They reached back, weakly, painfully.

Their dagger was laying on the ground next to her. Their blood was already coating her hands.

“Why?” Oralie pleaded. “Why would you di- get hurt for me?”

“Because I love you. Idiot.”

Oralie could feel Bronte’s pain surge through her, a phantom slash all the way down her chest as sticky sorrow poured across her hands, but their sentiment was genuine, the warmth of friendship radiating through. “I think- I think you’re the idiot.” She might have been crying, the sticky warmth of tears indistinguishable from the sticky warmth of love mingled with sadness. “You saved me, you saved the one who’s always been so weak.”

“Fucking nonsense. You’re- ah!” They gasped, and Oralie flinched as the pain doubled in intensity. “You’re stronger than anyone I know,” Bronte finished weakly. Their bangs fell across their face, strands of brown tinted red with blood as the rest fanned around their head like a halo but plainer.

“Bronte,” Fintan whispered from somewhere nearby.

Oralie would have killed him, if she could, but Bronte just stretched out a trembling hand. “Brother.”

“Bronte,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

Bronte’s emotions shifted, damp regret scratching against Oralie’s heart like wet wool. “I was the one who failed you from the start. I’m sorry.”

“Big brother,” Fintan whispered, and Oralie’s hands were sticky with his sorrow and Bronte’s blood.

“I forgive you. I forgive you.”

And Fintan was sobbing now, that she could be sure of, the enormity of his guilt crushing her and making it hard to breathe. Was she breathing? She couldn’t be sure.

“Oralie.” Buried under waves of pain, soft prickles of concern reached Oralie, and she drew a shuddering breath as Bronte tapped her hand lightly. “Oralie.”

“Y- yes?” Her voice failed her, wobbling under the weight of Fintan’s guilt that might have been her guilt that might have been Bronte’s worry.

“Don’t let go, okay? Don’t give up, just because- just. Just don’t give up. Please. You deserve to be happy and you will be.”

“It gets better someday,” Oralie whispered, remembering what she had told them so many times.

“It gets better. Someday. Promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Promise you won’t give up.”

Oralie took a shaky breath. “I promise.”

In some corner of her mind, she was vaguely aware of the fact that one of Clarette’s creatures had thrown Gethen away from the three of them, that a familiar grief- Emery’s- was prickling the back of her neck, but all she could see was Bronte’s chest rising and falling too quickly as their breathing grow shallower.

“Good. Tell Sophie I’m proud of her. Tell the rest of the Council that I cared about them- except. Except tell Alina to get fucked.” They pressed a leaping crystal into her hand weakly. “Tell. Serenel. Ramil. My parents. I loved them. And never- never forget that I love you. So much.”

“This isn’t goodbye. This isn’t!”

“It has to be.” Bronte smiled painfully. “I’m sorry.”

And suddenly Oralie was drowning in the absence of their emotions, all the sticky sorrow vanishing from her hands and leaving only blood. “Bronte. Bronte! Please, don’t go!” She knew it was futile already, knew there was only one thing the lack of emotions could mean, but she begged anyways, holding them close like she hadn’t been able to do for Kenric. Kenric. Words and oaths and memories spiraled through her mind, leaving one final grief, which she screamed to the world. “You promised me, Bronte! You promised! You said you’d never leave, not like- not like Kenric!”

I’m sorry. The memory of those words echoed through her mind, the pain behind them tearing through any remaining numbness. I’m sorry.

It took her a moment to realize that someone was saying them out loud too, a different voice and a different sorrow clinging to her heart. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Oralie.” Emery’s golden voice was rough, the sentiment in it more real than anything he had said as Spokesperson.

His sorrow drowned her as he pulled her into a gentle embrace, and Oralie let it. It was easy to let the pain of others wrap her up tightly just like their arms, far, far easier than facing the rage and grief and guilt pooling in her chest. For once, Oralie embraced the numbness.

--

There was blood on Emery’s shoulder.

That was the first thing she noticed when she could notice anything but grief. The bloody spot was small, but seeping outward slowly, and just as sticky as his pain. Focusing in on his emotions, Oralie narrowed down a phantom ache in her shoulder, right over where the blood on his was.

“Emery’s hurt.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers, rough and distant. “Left shoulder.”

“Shit, nice catch, Oralie!” That was Livvy’s voice, her usual cheer strained and cracking. “Handy uh, having an empath around, I guess.”

Oralie stared at golden embroidery of Emery’s tunic, watching it slowly become stained with blood. “Yeah.” She didn’t know when Livvy had gotten here, didn’t bother to wonder.

Livvy’s worry was prickly. “I’ll fix that up, if you don’t mind moving back, Councillor Oralie?”

“Okay.” Oralie stepped back and wondered how her voice could sound so dead while her chest was rising and falling still. She was vaguely aware that Livvy was fussing, vaguely aware that Emery was sighing, but it all seemed very far away even though they were right next to her.

The next thing she was aware of was someone putting their hand in hers softly, a pearl ring shimmering on the middle finger.

“I heard what happened,” Liora said quietly.

Oralie said nothing.

“I don’t know you well, and I didn’t know Bronte well. But I hope you know we’ll all stand by you.” Liora’s concern was less prickly than Bronte’s had been, more like flannel than felt, but just as real.

Oralie didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that Liora cared enough to worry about her, had no way of discerning even what she felt about it. “Thank you. They- Bronte- told me to tell you- you and the others, that is- that they cared. Even though it didn’t seem like it.”

“Even though it didn’t seem like it,” the other Councillor repeated softly. “Sounds like Bronte.”

“It does.” Oralie’s words felt fragile in her mouth.

Liora squeezed her hand. “Don’t hesitate to knock on my door if you need. I don’t talk to people much, but I do care.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

--

Oralie let the other Councillors shunt her around for the remainder of the day, let Emery take charge as always. Liora stuck by her most of the time, a quiet, stable presence that Oralie was grateful for, or would have been if she could feel anything but numb. Livvy tried futilely to cheer her up once or twice once the doctors had finished fixing everyone up, but it did no good. Oralie could barely process the jokes, let alone find them funny.

Finally, they were leaping home, but it seemed that Oralie’s trials weren’t over for the day. Waiting for them were the members of Team Valiant, worry apparent in their stances.

Sophie scanned the line of Councillors, not meeting Oralie’s eyes as usual. “Where’s Bronte?”

No one answered her.

Sophie’s gaze was as prickly as her fear when it landed on Oralie. “Where’s Bronte?”

Oralie couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it.

“Did they get held up? Did something happen? Are they hurt? Please, what happened?”

The anguish in Sophie’s voice broke Oralie’s heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

Emery did so instead, steady voice tinged with sorrow. “Bronte was killed in the fight against the Neverseen.”

“They were defending me,” Oralie whispered. “It was my fault.”

“No!” Sophie’s emotions were too many textures at once, all tempered with sharp disbelief. “Bronte can’t just be dead! They were like, a million years old! That’s not fair!”

“Our world very rarely is,” Emery murmured.

“Well fuck that all!” Sophie burned with anger, voice sticky with sadness as she turned to Oralie. “And you just- and they were saving you?”

“There was nothing Oralie or anyone else could have done,” Emery put in quickly. “I don’t know the full details, but it was a dreadful fight.”

“I want to hear it from her.”

Oralie didn’t meet Sophie’s gaze.

“Councillor.”

The world was too bright, the green of the grass too vivid for such a sad day, Oralie noted distantly.

“Oralie,” Sophie snapped, and the genuine hatred behind it was almost enough to make Oralie crumble on its own. “What the fuck happened?”

“Don’t talk to your elders like that,” Emery scolded.

“I don’t care! Bronte is dead and Oralie won’t talk and- and maybe it should have been her!”

Oralie could feel the horror and regret the second Sophie’s words left her mouth, the uncomfortable dampness of those emotions brushing her skin in the silence those words left, but regret didn’t change what had been said. Or the fact that it should have been Oralie. “She’s right.”

“No!” That was Terik, from the other end of the line of Councillors. “No, Oralie, no. It shouldn’t have been any of us. Let alone you.”

“If it came down to Bronte or me, it always should have been me who died,” Oralie whispered. “They deserved better. They always did.”

“No,” Sophie said quietly. “No. I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry! I didn’t think- it wasn’t right! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Oralie.”

Her name sounded safe in her daughter’s mouth for the first time since Sophie had learned the truth.

Oralie drew a shuddering breath. “Bronte told me to tell you they were proud of you. Before they died. They wanted me to pass on the message.”

“They- they were?”

“They were. They were so proud.”

And Oralie was crying, and Sophie was crying, and even unflappable, unshakable Emery was crying a little bit because it didn’t matter who ‘should’ have died, Bronte was dead and it was left to the rest of them to pick up all the broken pieces and try to make them beautiful again.

“I’m sorry,” Sophie whispered into Oralie’s shoulder, sadness more sticky than her tears on the already-ruined gown. “I’m sorry.”

Emery offering “I’m sorry” as a condolence.

Bronte’s last words of “I’m sorry”.

Fintan desperately apologizing for hurting them, a pained “I’m sorry”.

“I’m sorry,” Oralie whispered back, feeling the weight of the others’ words behind her own. “For everything.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry- I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

And they held each other and knelt on the too-green grass of Eternalia and cried until even Oralie had no more tears left. Only then did they get up, wipe their faces, and decide to go on, one way or another.

[voleurdesoleil-archive]

Rub a dub

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Nate x gender neutral detective

word count: 4.6k

read on ao3

It was late afternoon, judging by the warm rays of sunlight still coming through the high windows of the library where I had spent the whole day with Nate. The sunrays  were creating halos in which dust was slowly floating around, as if Time had slowed dramatically in the library to let us enjoy each other’s presence a bit longer.

This book-filled day had started with me telling the vampire about wanting to improve my Spanish, which we did at first. And to be fair, he was an excellent teacher. I could now see why Farah was so proud of him. But we had stopped long ago, favoring reading instead, although Nate had insisted on me reading a Spanish book. It will help you with your vocabulary, he said, flashing me a soft smile.  

But Spanish was far from our minds in this instant.

At some point during our reading, Nate had switched positions and was now lying comfortably in my laps. I had discarded my book to the side as I couldn’t focus on what I was reading with him in such close proximity. So I listened to his gentle voice as he was reading some Spanish novel, the words flowing out like a river of the sweetest honey. I watched his face closely, looking at every micro expressions he would make, such as the slight twitch of his mouth when something amusing came on in the book or the gentle frown that would settle in between his eyebrows as something not as loving was happening.

The sunlight made his eyes come alive, and the emotions he held in them were much more visible. Their color reminded me of the dark, varnished, most definitely antique furniture he had here, in his small sanctuary. His glossy hair was a little messy from moving around in my lap and I just couldn’t help myself but start gently playing with it, which I could notice awoke an immediate reaction within him.

Nate’s whole body relaxed as I raked my fingers through his beautiful hair. His reading came to a stop but I only noticed because his previously closed eyes were now peering into my own, curiously, studying my features, just like I did with him a moment before, in silent wonder. His deep gaze swept over my face slowly, like he was memorizing every feature of my face in fear that I would disappear.

My body reacted before my mind could comprehend what it was doing. I reached out a hand towards his face slowly, careful not to burst the bubble we had put ourselves into. With a breath stuck in my throat, I leaned closer and followed closely what they were doing. His skin was so incredibly soft and warm making my lips tingle at the thought of kissing him there. I enjoyed how he seemed to melt into my touch, his expression so open and welcome, making me wonder about confessing my feelings for him. Surely he would know already but there’s something about actually saying those words out loud that makes it much more real.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when a warm hand took mine and the softest pair of lips kissed my palm. My train of thought crashed through the front of my head and disappeared outside and suddenly any rational thought looked like a far away dream. The mischievous glint in his eyes tells me he knows exactly how this affected me and that he is very much pleased with it, like he was counting on it.

In a futile attempt to regain my composure I spoke up, my voice almost cracking with every word. “Rebecca said most of these books belong to you, do you have any favorites?”

Nate’s eyes lit up, our bubble bursting as he immediately stood up. “I do! I have a lot of favorites actually!” The vampire started walking around the room excitedly, like a kid in a toy shop during Christmas season, meticulously pulling out books of the many shelves as if he knew exactly where each one would be. Disappearing for a moment, he kept on rambling, his voice sometimes barely audible as he was moving away through the rows of bookshelves. “Being able to read in multiple languages is an absolute gift when it comes to books, first of all, it just gives me more books to read, because a lot of foreign books aren’t being translated into English, except for classics, but mostly because those translations are awful!” When he reappeared, he was holding a pile of books taller than him, and I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at how cute and overjoyed Nate looked. He carefully set the wobbling pile down on the coffee table before sitting back on the sofa next to me.

The pile was composed of mostly classics; Songs of Innocence, Leaves of Grass, Songs and Sonnets and a couple more collections of poetry. Authors such as Jane Austen, Edgar Allan Poe or Ernest Hemingway. The Catcher in the Rye, Wuthering Heights, The picture of Dorian Grey, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and many more, but one in particular caught my attention.

“A book about burning books, really?” I said, holding up Fahrenheit 451. I could understand why it was one of his favorites as it was also one of mines but, seeing how much he cared for his books, I couldn’t help but tease him.

To my utmost surprise, I could spot a few more contemporary books in there too.

“Percy Jackson?”

He started scratching the back of his neck, as I was pulling the series towards me. He owned the most beautiful edition I had ever seen. “Well I wouldn’t say it’s a favorite quite yet, but if I had to be completely honest, I’ve really enjoyed them and the whole universe, and this guy is actually one of the few to get his myths right, so it’s really close to being a favorite if that makes sense.” He gave me a sheepish smile.

“I can’t really blame you on that. I’ve read them way too many times not to have them as part of my own favorites.” I admitted with a laugh.

He was now sorting the books by languages in different piles. One pile in particular caught my eye and I leaned forward to read the spines. Les faux-monnayeurs, L’Oeuvre, La Peste, Parle-leur de batailles, de rois et d’éléphants, or Les Contemplations. I had to admit that seeing some of those titles had stirred in me a feeling I would have never expected: Nostalgia. Some of those books were part of my own collection, although mines did look a bit more worn out, as I had studied them back in High school, whereas Nate’s were in pristine condition, but some of them also held a special place in my heart. Just like the French language did.

“French books,” Nate said as he noticed where my focus had shifted.

His voice took me out of my trance. “You speak French?” I blurted out. “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised because Farah did say you knew a lot of languages, but I never would’ve guessed French would be one of them.”

“Well…” his voice trailed off as he was pulling the pile closer to him. “French is actually one of my favorite languages…” He admitted almost in a whisper.

On hearing that, my mind quickly drifted away again and, ignoring the romantic thoughts that immediately started blinking in there like neon signs outside of a bar, I wondered if Farah had told him I was French.

I spent a couple minutes thinking of a way I could figure out if Farah had told him or not. A sheepish smile grew on my face as the answer was making its way into my mind. I was either the stupidest idiot or a genius.

“Will you teach me French?” I asked.

He looked at me, with a confused look. “You want me to teach you French?”

Oh god, Farah told him, I thought, but I still tried to play along with it and my smile turned into a smirk. “Of course! I’ve wanted to learn French for so long, and I bet you would be the perfect teacher!”

He seemed to think about it for a while and I couldn’t tell if it was because Farah had told him and he was wondering why I was lying, or if it was because he really didn’t know and was actually considering it. I chose to go with the latter when he agreed to teach me and asked if I knew any French words already.

“Well I do know some basic ones like ‘bonjour’, ‘mon ami’, ‘baguette’ and ‘croissant’”  I was trying so hard to fake my worst French accent, and Nate’s amused chuckle told me I was doing a good job. I tried to push my luck a bit more with my next move.

Trying to keep my voice as naive as possible, I asked: “There’s that one song I know that has some French in it but I don’t know what it means…”

“Tell me what it is and I’ll tell you!”

Trying to suppress a smile, I took a short breath. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

Nate instantly choked on the tea he was sipping, almost spilling the whole cup on himself. He slowly put down the cup, his eyes wide and his cheeks beet red as I was trying to keep my lips tight not to let out a chuckle, but that didn’t quite work as I couldn’t help but smile at his expression.

The vampire cleared his throat “Well, it simply means that hmm…” He stopped for a bit, not sure where to look. Then his embarrassed gaze landed on me, and he managed to turn an even brighter shade of red. That’s when I bursted out laughing.

“Oh honey…” I let out in between giggles. “I know what it means already, I’m just messing with you!”

“You knew!? You knew and you didn’t tell me?!” He pointed an accusing finger in my direction which made me giggle even more. “You just sat there and basked in my embarrassment! You’re evil!"

My smile fell a bit as I saw a pout forming on his lips. “I know another word in French…” my voice trailed off as I tried to think of a way to comfort him. Once again faking my worst accent, I said: “Tu es très beau.”

His long lashes flickered quickly as he processed what I had just said. "Wh-what did you just say?” he stuttered.

I reached out to gently cup his cheek in my hand. “Oh Natey, French really does put you in one hell of a state…” I stated jokingly, but I had to admit that the effect French had on him was quite impressive, if all it took me to break him was a simple compliment. I took my hand off Nate’s cheek, the tips of my fingers slowly brushing against his jaw as I did.

But before I could fully pull away, Nate grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers together. “You’re very pretty too.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. The way his eyes slowly glided over my face before finally setting onto mine. My breath hitched and immediately I was sucked into his deep gaze. It felt like I was drowning in the endless pool of brown that were his eyes, the warmth in them strangely making me feel at ease, like I had finally found my long lost home.

I slowly leaned closer and his gaze now rested on my lips. Giving him a small smile I brushed our noses together and leaned my forehead onto his. I heard him sigh in relief, almost as if me being away was physically painful for him. We stayed like that for a while, basking into each other’s presence and enjoying the quiet bubble we wrapped ourselves in.

___

A few hours later, after a heavy dinner that Nate had prepared for us, we were laying in the peaceful quiet of his room. The silence rarely broken by the other vampires living at the warehouse. I was laying in Nate’s arms, his usual dazzling smile plastered on his face as he was stroking my hair.

“Why do you love French so much?” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I mean, it’s a rather difficult language to learn.”

“I know, but it’s still a beautiful language. I could talk for hours about how harmonious French sounds, but I’ll spare you that discussion.” He rolled over a little to face me. “It’s one of the first languages I’ve learned, and ever since, it has always had that resonance in me that most languages don’t have. It may sound a little silly, but I feel like it carries way more feelings than any other language I speak, and I’m not gonna lie…” A smirk had replaced his warm smile. He leaned closer, his breath tingling on my neck, to eventually whisper: “French is sexy.”

I almost choked on hearing that, rolling on my back and faking a cough to hide my mortified expression, but judging by the grin that Nate was giving me, my reaction was far from unnoticed. I couldn’t have possibly decipher if he was serious or just teasing me.

To spare myself further embarrassment, I quickly changed the subject and Nate was nothing less than eager to comply. Looked like he decided to have mercy on my poor soul. We talked until a word couldn’t come out of my mouth due to my tiredness and I fell asleep to the rhythm of Nate’s beating heart.

___

Nate was on his knees, crying for help as a blurred figure struck another blow. He barely had strength to lift his arms to protect his face. The chill of the rain was burning my face and seeping through my clothes as I tried to run towards him, but my legs gave in and I fell on my knees.

“Please stop! Stop hurting him!” I tried to yell but only a deformed wail came out of mouth. It was as if I was trapped in my own body. Unable to move. Unable to save him. My throat clenched as I tried to suppress a sob, but that didn’t keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks.

Nate took another punch, but this one seemed to be the last his bloody figure could take and I watched helpless as he collapsed on the floor. The aggressor was on him before he could even try to get up.

Now that the other vampire had slowed down, I could distinguish his features a bit more and a shiver ran down my spine as I managed to recognize Murphy.

I tried to get to Nate once again as he took a syringe out of his coat.

“Leave him alone!” Although desperate the words managed to come out of my mouth properly this time, but it barely got me a glance from Murphy whose sole focus was on Nate.

“It’s me you want! Take me! I’ll do whatever you want!” I pleaded. “But let him go… You don’t need him!”

This time it seemed like I had managed to catch the vampire’s attention. “You’re right detective… I don’t need him.” He said as he plunged the needle in Nate’s neck.

___

“Agh!” I woke with a start and immediately rolled over to search for Nate, but I was only met with cold sheets on the other side of the bed.

Panic seizing me, I fought to get out of the tangled sheets. “Nate?” I called in a whisper, afraid something would come out of the dark to attack me. I flinched with a shriek as the plushed rabbit from the Carnival fell at my feet, a folded piece of paper next to it.

Crouching on my knees, I grabbed both of the items. Immediately calming down as I recognized Nate’s fancy handwriting spread on the paper. “Went on a mission, will be back soon”, I read out loud. Clutching the little rabbit in my arms, I was surprised to notice that it smelled like Nate and without noticing it, I held it a bit tighter against my chest. A smile grew on my face as I read what was written inside the note.

“Nineteen Eighty-Four, page 124”. The vampire had drawn a little heart next to that sentence and I knew the exact line he was referring to.    

“I love you too” I whispered. The plushed rabbit being the only witness of that sudden confession.

Our discussion from earlier this afternoon came back to my mind and the idea of confessing my love to him resurfaced.

I settled behind Nate’s mahogany desk, set the note and rabbit before me and grabbed some paper to finally put down in words how I felt towards the vampire.

___

After a couple of hours, the sun was slowly rising on the horizon, peaking weakly through the tree crown. I stretched as I contemplated my finished love declaration.

I folded the sheet of paper and slid it along with Nate’s note in the pocket of my coat. “Time to go back to sleep” I mumbled to myself as I grabbed the plushy.

___

It felt like a couple of minutes had passed when I was woken up again by my phone buzzing manically on the bedside table.

Thinking it was a phone call, I brought the phone to my ear, my eyes still half closed. “Hello?” The only answer I got was a buzz. Bringing the phone back in front of my face, blinking painfully at the bright light, I managed to decipher the last text Farah had sent me, lost in a sea of question marks and my name in caps.

“Didn’t you say you were French?”

“I am”

“Then why did Nate say he taught you French yesterday?”

Fear gripped me as I threw off the bed sheets and jolted up out of bed. Furiously typing, I ran out of the room, barely managing to stop myself from bumping into Adam.

“Detective? Is there something wrong?” He asked, actual worry in his voice.

“Not yet!” I answered already running away. Halfway through the corridor I came to a stop and turned around. Adam was still standing in front of Nate’s door, looking at me with a confused look on his face. “Adam?”

The leader slightly shook his head. “Yes?”

“Do you happen to know where Nate and Farah are?”

“The kitchen I think. Nate said he would cook breakfast for you, before you woke up.” He threw me a grin. “I guess his plan kind of failed.”

“Thanks Adam!” I answered, running off. I waved at him when I turned at the corner.

When I finally made it to the kitchen, I stopped before the door, taking a moment to catch my breath. I ran my hand over my hair and lifted my phone to check myself in the reflection on my screen. I plastered a calm smile of my face before pushing open the door to the kitchen.

Farah was sprawled over a chair, as was her habit, and Nate was cooking, his back turned to me. He hadn’t noticed my entrance yet. Glaring at Farah, I mouthed the words: “Did you tell him?” to which she answered with a shake of her head. I let out a sigh of relief and that’s when Nate turned around.

His smile immediately grew. I walked to him and casually grabbed a cup in the cupboard above his shoulder, reducing the space between us to almost nothing.

“Comment va l’homme le plus sexy du monde?” I asked, turning away to hide the grin on my face as he dropped the spoon he was holding. I didn’t give him time to reply and kissed his cheek.

[ How’s the sexiest man in the world doing? ]

Grabbing the kettle and pouring water in my cup as if nothing happened, I tried to remember what I had written down during the night. “Tu sais, il y a ce garçon, tu devrais le voir, il ressemble à un dieu Grec, qui a ce sourire magnifique et à qui je pense énormément ces derniers temps. D’ailleurs, ça fait plusieurs jours que j’essaie de trouver comment lui avouer ce que je ressens.”

[ You know, there is that guy, you should see him he looks like a Greek God, who has that dazzling smile and whom I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. As a matter of fact, I’ve been trying to find a way to tell him how I feel for a few days now. ]

I leaned against the counter now facing Farah. The young vampire was sitting on the edge of her seat, almost gripping the table so hard that I was afraid she might break it from excitement. She was staring at me with her mouth wide open. Morgan was also now sitting beside her, caring enough to have forgotten to lit up her cigarette and Adam was entering the room.

I returned my attention to Nate. “Et hier, comme par miracle, il m’annonce qu’il parle français. Alors depuis j’ai bien réfléchi à ce que je pourrais bien lui dire; j’y ai même passé toute la nuit. Maintenant, je pense avoir trouvé.”

[ And yesterday, miraculously, he announces that he speaks French. So, ever since, I’ve thought a lot about what I could possibly say to him; I’ve even thought about it all night. Now, I think I’ve finally found the answer. ]

I could hear Farah gasp and say something along the lines of “I love foreign movies, Morgan please grab the popcorn and Adam do the subtitles.” Glancing at them, I could see Adam rolling his eyes, but he still, reluctantly sat next to Farah, still trying to understand what was happening.

Nate was now a confused mess, his usual smile had been replaced by tomato red cheeks and the food in his pan was starting to burn. I turned off the gas and sat on the counter, pulling Nate in front of me to be face to face with him.

“Alors voilà, je pensais lui dire à quel point je le trouve mignon, et qu’à chaque fois qu’il sourit, mon coeur se met à battre la chamade; mais ça, je pense qu’il le sait déjà.” I smiled to the vampire.

[ So here goes, I was thinking of telling him how cute I think he is, and that every time he smiles, my heart starts to pound wildly; but I think he already knows that. ]

In the corner of my eye, I could see Adam, finally understanding what was happening, standing up and grabbing both Morgan and Farah by their collar and dragging them out of the kitchen. Adam had the biggest smile I’d ever seen him with plastered on his face as he closed the door.

I knew from the noise outside that the stern vampire was probably guarding the door as Farah was trying to listen through it.

Putting my hands on the waist of a still speechless Nate. I softened my voice, making my confession more intimate as the words flowed out of my mouth. “Je voulais aussi lui dire que depuis que j’étais enfant, j’avais toujours rêvé d’apprendre à danser la valse avec mon âme soeur et que s’il voulait bien, on pourrait peut-être apprendre à la danser tout les deux. Que j’aimerais beaucoup passer mes après-midi avec lui dans son endroit préféré, la bibliothèque à l’étage du dessous, et qu’on pourrait lire nos bouquins préférés ensemble.

[ I also wanted to tell him that ever since I was a kid, I had always dreamt of learning how to waltz with my soulmate and that if he was willing to, maybe we could learn how to waltz together. That I’d very much like to spend all my afternoons with him in his favorite place, the library downstairs, and that we could read our favorite books together. ]

My hand reached up to cup Nate’s cheek. Still a flustered mess, his confusion had gone away and a wide smile started to grow on his soft face. He leaned in the touch.

“Et je voulais aussi qu’il sache que s’il le fallait, pour gagner son coeur, je lui dédierai tous mes écrits. Que chacun des mots que j’écrirai, à partir d’aujourd’hui et jusqu’à la fin de ma vie, seraient pour lui, et lui seul. Maintenant, je sais très bien qu’il pourrait trouver mieux que moi, mais que s’il le voulait on pourrait se lancer. Parce que moi je pense que ça peut donner quelque chose de beau, parce qu’après tout…” I leaned closer, to whisper in his ear. “Je l’aime…” My voice trailed off as Nate’s hands to came to rest on my waist and that his head came to rest in the crook of my neck. I could feel his tears crashing on my skin.

[ And I also wanted him to know that if it was necessary, to win his heart, I’d dedicate all of my writings to him. That every single word I would write, from today until the day I die, would be dedicated to him, and him only. Now, I know fairly well that he could find someone better than me, but that if he was willing to we could try. Because I think it could end up being something beautiful, because after all… I love him. ]

“And what’s the name of this guy?” he eventually whispered.

“His name is Nathaniel Sewell, but he prefers Nate.”

After a few moments that actually felt like an eternity, Nate lifted me off the counter to pull me in a tight embrace, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. “Did you fake not knowing French?”

I nodded. “I’m French silly…”

“You are?!” He almost dropped me. “Sorry…” he said as he let me down on the counter again.

“I am. I was surprised to discover Farah hadn’t told you as soon as I told her to be honest.”

“Farah knew?”

“Yes, it came up when she visited me at the station last time. Sorry I didn’t tell you.” I gave him a sheepish smile “And I’m sorry I lied to you yesterday, but when I realized you had no idea, I thought it would perhaps be a good idea to confess like that…” I glance around the kitchen and let out a chuckle. “Well that’s not exactly how I had planned it, but I panicked when Farah texted me this morning, I was hoping it would be more romantic… Gosh I’m rambling…”

“I don’t mind…” he said as he leaned closer. Our lips were a couple centimeters apart, but he didn’t move closer, as if he was waiting for the permission to kiss me. I leaned forward and captured his lips and it seemed that right in this moment, time itself stopped. The kiss was everything I have hoped it would be. It set my whole being on fire, making my body tingle all over with happiness. His lips were the sweetest thing I had ever tasted in this world, making me addicted and never wanting to let go of him.

I pulled him closer by his belt loops, wanting, needing him to be closer. The kiss was so soft it made me feel like I was floating to the sky to gently lay on those fluffy clouds. It made me feel whole and happy. Nate made me happy.

And I hoped I made him happy too.

[mahou-furbies]

Magical Girl Raising Project Limited - character design ranking

Captain Grace

An alright pirate design with enough little details that keep it from being forgettable (I especially like the anchor buckle on her belt, and the earrings and hooks on her hair). The spikes on the coat are what stands out most to me; makes me think of a Mario enemy or something. However I’m not sure how much of a Magical Girl design it is. Like pirates and frills already go together, so the well tested formula (put a miniskirt and frills on it and it’s a magical girl look!) doesn’t really do much. Maybe it’d be better if she had some cutesy detail in there somewhere? Also is that an tail again or what, or some kind of blunt hook? What is it with these unnecessary tails in Magipro designs. 6/10. 

Funny Trick

I’ve always liked Funny Trick’s look, and it’s probably because of the pleasant colour palette, unique eyes and two-tone hair (I’m easy to please with two-tone hair). The nail polish and colourful glitter on her fur are also good little details. But apart from that I guess this is only barely strange enough to be any kind of “magical” look rather than just an anime stage magician, but at least that’s pretty close to magical girls already. Also is that a frigging tail again?? At least it goes well with the hair I guess... 8/10.

Kuru-Kuru Hime

It’s a cute design, but when I think of a ribbon magical girl I somehow expected more ribbons? Like this feels like an the higher end of an average magical girl amount of ribbons? Or maybe it’s totally over the top and my perspective is just skewed since I love ribbons and want them everywhere. Either way I like her outfit from neck down, but I’m not that into the headgear, the combo of the bonnet thingy and the weird crown just sitting on top if it looks strange to me. Nice hair tho even if it could use more ribbons. 6/10.

Weddin

I absolutely love Weddin’s design. The muted and light colour palette is very appealing to me, and the dark chains break up the mostly monochrome design so it doesn’t look dull and faded and also give the otherwise super frilly appearance quite a lot of edge. There’s repeating elements (braids in her hair and veil, the same kind of flowers everywhere, flower yellow also appearing in her eye makeup) so it doesn’t get too complicated, and all of them go well with the wedding theme too. The flame... is a bit of an odd touch and I’d rather associate it with a birthday party or Christmas than a Wedding but I guess you can have candles at weddings too, and I don’t find it too distracting.

I’m not a huge fan of the lingerie like look though, but at least visible garters go with the wedding theme and she’s so covered in veils and frills that it doesn’t look so bad. Also the back train looks kind of lazy. But overall still one of my favourite Magipro designs. 10/10.

Rain Pow

A tail again! However this time I actually like it, since she has that rainbow hoop behind her it looks good to stick something through it, and at least it somewhat resembles her twintails. 

As for the rest of the design, it has zero frills and ribbons and looks more like some kind of scifi spacesuit than a typical magical girl design, but somehow I still really like it. I think the weird heart hair is just enough to pull it into magical girl territory for me so my impressions are more on the “an unique take on an mg look” rather than “not mg enough” side. Then all the rings keep the look consistent (I absolutely love the rainbow halo) and the suit itself looks alright enough. I also find it interesting how muted the suit colours are for a rainbow magical girl and even the rainbow is pretty pastel, but I figure this is a better choice than all the expected seven colours in all their eye-strainy glory. 9/10.

Postarie

Please put on some pants, that is a shirt and not a dress.

Not too interested in this one, but I find it a commendable effort on making a design on the idea of “postal delivery girl”. Still lots of repeating elements so that’s a plus, especially the back epaulette is such an absurd idea but somehow it works and its wings and the wing hairstyle add the required fantasy touch. Bonus points for the cute birds. 7/10.

Tepsekemei

An inoffensive genie design but I struggle to really have emotions towards it. Butt flower is silly and I have no idea what the things hanging from it are, but at least they’re consistent with her head decoration. Don’t care for the shoulder spikes in an otherwise soft looking design. Huge earrings and multicoloured nails are a nice touch. 6/10.

7753

Also one of my favourite Magipro looks. It feels like the design philosophy here was “gakuran jacket and some frills, and then some hearts. And more hearts! More! Even more!” and I think it’s a great way to go with when designing a magical girl. Using just hearts everywhere makes the outfit cohesive, but since they’re all implemented in different ways it doesn’t get boring. I especially like the little hearts on her hands and under the eye, and the one in her pocket.

Two-tone hair in twintails is also one of the best design elements out there and the hairstyle is quite memorable (and also manages to incorporate the heart motif) and I’m always a fan of caps too. The green eyes and the little bit of green nail polish which you unfortunately can’t see here go well with the otherwise reddish look. Maybe the hair looks a bit too clunky (I only just realised it appears to be tied in a hoop behind her) but I won’t let it bother me. 10/10.

Mana

A solid witch design, I especially love the dimensional cape and hat. I also like the huge collar with the lace detail, but I’m not sure if it works with the hat brim. Not a big fan of the hair, I think it clutters the design. The snake leg accessory feels weird and a bit out of place but I do appreciate the asymmetry and also having something dark to break up the otherwise plain bottom part of the design.. 7/10.

Gekokujou Hana

I tend not to be a huge fan of kimono-based clothes, but this one is an exception I guess. The great colours must play a part in it, and the bottom part is fun. Then the dangly decorations add the correct amount of strangeness so it’s not just a bunny girl in a mini kimono Also, another tail, but this time it’s almost a requirement and I love how ridiculously huge it is (and also repeats elsewhere in her outfit). But really I can’t think of anything to dislike about this, must be the colours and the tail. 10/10.

Archfiend Pam

I believe this is the record on how little clothing you can wear in this franchise... At least she has the personality to pull that off. But that is not a top! At least it’s something new...? The wings fit the description in the story, but I don’t think these blank rectangles look very aesthetically pleasing. I like the tail best, the fur edge makes it a lot more interesting than just the usual demon tail. I don’t know, if the theme is a sexy demon girl this design definitely accomplishes it in a unique way, but also I don’t care for this fanservicey designs. Also not a fan of the hair. 4/10.

Pythie Frederica

Before drawing her for the chibi series I thought she had some kind of a helmet but upon closer inspection of course it’s a veil. But what are the horns? 

Upon closer inspection this one is also very fanservicey, in that her “dress” is actually see-through and the only thing covering the critical areas look like thin belt-thingies. At least she doesn’t look like she’s ten... But a major issue I have is the bottom part of her outfit, like how is it supposed to work? Is it one big piece of cloth, or multiple thin ones? What is the “fire” behind her? Is the dark part her hair, or the clothing, and is it supposed to be black or just shading? I do like the stars; otherwise the design gives a more mature “sexy” air, but the little stars everywhere adds a cute element. The colour palette is pleasing, but as much as I like multicoloured hair it doesn’t grant points this time, because the wiggly stray strands look very out of place here and the colour change makes them even more noticeable. 2/10.

Tot Pop

This one really isn’t my aesthetic, I very much prefer the cutesy style and there isn’t really anything ‘magical girl’ about this design. And it doesn’t really evoke the supposed image of ‘pop star’ to me either, like if you remove the guitar I’d think her theme was a prisoner or halloween. Though I don’t really know what a ‘pop star’ should look like anyway, like can’t they wear anything they want, I know Lady Gaga had a meat dress or something. But as of this design, I don’t think there’s anything specifically wrong with it, the colours are pleasing, the details are consistent and it’s not bland or boring either, but it just doesn’t do much for me because of the theme. I like the blood-stained hair and the spiky hair accessory, the long hanging part makes for a nice silhouette. Meanwhile the skulls on her shoulders feel somewhat tacked on, and in general I don’t care for piercings in anywhere else than ears. 5/10.

Pukin

And it’s a tail again. What is it with the stupid tacked on tails on every other design in this franchise? Sometimes it’s not so badly out of place, like if you have an youthful cutesy design, a fluffy animal tail can still add to the cute effect even if it’s otherwise out of place. But Pukin is supposed to be this dangerous and majestic authority figure and a cutesy tail very much doesn’t fit that image. And while we’re on the topic of animal features, the story describes that she has a feather decoration in her hair, but the way it’s drawn as a tiny feather jutting directly up in the middle of her head gives me more the impression of a character whose theme is a baby bird rather than a fantasy prince.

Now that we’ve dealt with the tail let’s get the biggest issue out of the way: I’m aware that there was a time in history when people used to wear these kind of giant ruffled collars but I really don’t care if there’s some kind of history based reasoning. It looks like your head is on a plate and it’s something I can’t ignore. I don’t feel even clowns can pull that off. There is no way getting around this.

When I first read Limited I thought Pukin’s appearance was an absolute mess and an instant 1/10, but upon closer inspection there is stuff I like about it too. She has a good colour palette, great shoes and gloves, and as a friend of multicoloured hair I welcome the yellow hair tips. The big heavy cape balances the small top and pants, and I really like the fur. Earrings go well with the pants too. The theme is a bit confused, or at least I don’t know of any fairy tales about pumpkin prince, but it’s not like I would complain about pineapple or cauliflower princess so that’s not really a problem. 3/10.

Sonia Bean

And we end Limited with yet another excellent design. I like how this manages to look kind of tattered and messy without actually being gross and dirty with the patchwork dress, dustball-like thingies, newspaper clippings and asymmetry. Even her hair looks disheveled. The headgear gives the design an old-fashioned vibe which suits her well since she’s so old. The light palette, soft design elements and ribbons give the look a cute feel, but at the same time she feels suspiciously pale, and the manic expression screams danger, like you can’t reason with this girl. She’s like a ghost of a Victorian era child who wants to play with you but you know you definitely should not follow her.

The design only works if I don’t think too much about it though, like dust is gross and newspaper paper is crinkly and not soft at all, but since we’re magical girls here I can ignore that and enjoy the image the clothing evokes. 10/10.

------------------

Limited average: 6,9.

[kaplanwrites]

02.6 Michael

Part1. Meeting.

For the last 40 hours Tim’s going only on caffeine and taurine from energetics, empty cans of which piles in trash bins +and that probably will go to the chapter where Kon calls Dick to take over the meeting because Tim sleeps exhausted after rehearsing his major defend+

He probably should sleep, but he just defended his minor, and he’s unable to move anywhere himself. He doesn’t want to try to resemble a human being right now, to be a responsible parent to his - beloved, but much too noisy - toddler, to check the fridge for milk and cupboards for cookies. Everyone coax him, so he tumbles down the street to the local bar which is surprisingly more fancy that any bar placed near campus ought to be, and crumples down at the nearest table, bracketed by fellow red-eyed caffeine-overdosed pre-grads and TAs.

After a couple of drinks (Irish coffee, don’t hold on whiskey, double sugar), he spots that one guy at the bar. The guy… he looks exactly like him; the buzz-cut, and wide shoulders, hair black in a yellowish light. He sits at a barstool, shapely legs clad in too-tight bootcuts, and sips on something creamy - is that a milkshake? He turns head to ask the barman something, and as light catches on a thick rim of glasses, so does Tim’s breath. He probably makes some sort of sound, because girls notice his attention, and one of them - Trish, probably - heard that The Guy’s name was Mike, and Mark, who actually lives at the campus, says that they heard that The Guy’s dishes out to cover his tuition.

And Tim’s wouldn’t do that just to relax, but then Mike turns to stand up, and his eyes glint blue, and he even has a slight curl in hair, and Tim _wants_.

It is convenient, really,  no strings attached as they say,  and nothing would happen if he’ll be covert,  and if Tim is capable of anything - it’s stealth.

So after Mike leaves to the bathroom, Tim drops his contact card on his barstool and makes sure to lock eyes, to flash trademarked Wayne’s smile at Mark, when he returns.

***

Part2. Sex.

Mike calls, and they meet at the hotel and they kiss, and Tim stops and starts to backpedal because “he shouldn't be here, he has kid, and Mike - it's Michael, actually, - probably has STD’s, and they argue a bit, and then laugh, because Michael is indignant and Tim’s nervous, and Michael make monthly checkups, and anyways his clients are improbable to carry something, and Tim wonders why he would do it, and Michael wonders why TIM would do it, he’s gorgeous and rich can probably pick up anybody anywhere.

Tim says that people on campus know Mike’s occupation, but no one knows his clients and that what Tim needs.

They kiss some more and gropes each other a little until Tim’s phone goes off, and he needs to go. He pays the whole, and for the room.

***

Second time they’re in a fancier hotel, with decent-sized bed, and it’s midday and Tim wants to watch him strip, and to touch himself, and they fumble on bed, Michael naked, and Tim fully clothed, and Tim fucks him from behind until both of them sated and spent, and kisses Michael shoulders before leaving cash on the table and leaving the room.

Michael’s eyes are actually hazel, but it doesn’t matter.

***

Michael offers to rub his back, or to get a long bath together,  when on a fourth or fifth time Tim actually chooses hotel near city center, fancy and with spacious bathroom - because Tim’s always dressed in at least one layer, and stiff and rigid underneath and Michael  begins to suspect some kind of disfigure under clothes.

They talk, well, Michael talk at Tim as Tim sucks him off while spreading him with fingers, that it will be okay to show anything he hides under clothes, that it will be good to let go, and suddenly Tim gets up with an obscene pop, and Michael’s eyes want to cross, but he soldiers on and holds Tim’s intense gaze as he begins to undress.

And then Michael just stares at the scars that appear with each discarded garment, pale skin crisscrossed with long gashes and peppered with barely visible burn marks, and Tim says it’s sort of fun to have father and two older brothers addicted to extreme, and then he chuckles when Michael's eyes slips to the puckered bullet-hole, and says that that’s the price for charity in Gotham.

And then Michael is too preoccupied with remembering watching on tv a shooting of a  philanthropist teenager,  who then spent two years on crutches,  with the thought of ‘how couldn’t I figured earlier that dark gotham and gorgeous was anyone but a Wayne’, and then he’s too busy getting properly fucked.

***

Tim’s careful not to meet Michael after visible injuries, but he makes sure to visit him every other week. He has ready stories about mountain bikes and rock climbing.

Afterward, he feels more focused, and he lashes out at people (at Kon) less, and, besides, he actually enjoys Michael’s presence.

***

Part3. Wrong name.

He holds a Wayne Tech Gala, and he gives a ticket to Kon, as a truce. He thinks, maybe Kon chooses to go with him.

Kon brings someone; she’s not even a name, she is blond and beautiful, like Cassie, and she is starry eyes, and happy to be here just because it’s luxurious - unlike Cassie.

Tim drowns his bourbon and prays that Ted will manage their little devil for one night. Kon doesn’t even have the decency to look smug, he just shakes hands, and smiles, and visibly relaxes when his plus-one leaves to gossip; and Tim isn't even jealous or disappointed, he’s just angry.

That night he makes Michael fuck him, and maybe he’s moaning the wrong name all the way through.

***

One morning Tim’s in the shower, and Michael’s barely awake, and there are Wayne tech blueprints scattered on the table, and those designs are awesome, and Michael cannot keep his eyes off them until Tim’s out of the shower. And:

‘I'm sorry, the designs of that power source, it’s beautiful, even more than I’ve anticipated’ - ‘You know what those are?’ - ‘You kidding me? I’m in electrical engineering, that’s all we talked about at campus after last ‘expo’’

They speak geek, and Tim tentatively proposes to get him an internship in the WayneTech. They visit once together, and Michael is absolutely enamored with the lead engineer, Cecil Walters.

At the first day of the internship, Michael comes up to him and asks him out to a date later, when he will be able to afford to take Cecil to a decent place. Everybody in the lab is scandalized, except for Tim (who is amused) and Cecil (who think it’s hilarious). Worse: Michael’s absolutely serious.

***

One time Michael comes with bruises in interesting places. Couple others he refuses to come at all. Tim sees him at the campus, with a split lip and marks on throat.

Tim makes Michael’s handsy client disappear, and Michael doesn’t ask questions about his dean sudden retirement.

***

Part 4. Truce.

They speak, mostly after sex, and Michael says that he’s going to lose this job. Tim frowns on this phrasing but keeps silent. Michael keeps explaining, that he was doing it to get through college, and it was nice and easy money and that once he’s finished, he wouldn’t need that anymore, especially with WT internship. And anyway he already got rid of most of his clientele, but Tim was always welcome to call, and is still, but only, like, a booty call. For free. Because Michael liked Tim’s dick that much, and also was somewhat addicted to this hotel’s jacuzzis’

‘So it’s not about Dr. Walters?’ Tim asks, after.

Michael looks up incredulously from where he’s pulling his socks on.

‘Huh, nah, it’s not about him yet. When I’ll finally get my hands on that genius of a man, no jacuzzi in the world would be able to separate us’

Tim shakes his head and actually laughs.

***

Tim calls him the next afternoon, and it’s unusual. Michael checks if he forgot something at the hotel, or in the car, but Tim’s frighteningly careful with that. They meet in the half-empty bar, and Tim says, that he wouldn’t be able to keep Michael’s company during long nights anymore.

Michael turns his smile away to the window, and Tim again astonished of the striking resemblance - the rounded jaw, thick neck - Michael’s bathed in the evening sun, haloed curly hair, and eyelashes golden in the slanted beams.

‘Tell me it’s not about you’re turned off by the free sex,’ he sips contentedly his latte, ‘And about your blind guy’.

Tim’s brow pitches, and then he pushes to put a smile on, cold and fake. ‘Why do you think he’s blind?’

‘One should be positively blind not to see a guy that hot under one’s nose. He’s that second dad to your kid, isn't he?’

Tim remembers a photo in his wallet, with two of them, Eli and Kon, and nods. ‘Yeah… and he... He basically forbade me to keep seeing you.’ He chuckles, the smile genuine now. ‘He actually caught me red-handed yesterday’.

‘Huh,’ Michael shakes his head. He wasn’t sure how those relationships worked; he was sure that Tim was too busy for anything between his kid and his job, and his mad brothers and this thing Michael and Tim has. Had. But apparently, Tim also managed to nurse this crush on the other dad - presumably the straight one. ‘So, did he got jealous?’

Tim nods, then shakes head ‘it’s not like that, it’s…’ He shrugs.

‘...complicated.’ Michael finished for him, taking cliche from his mouth. ‘Well he better be good for you in bed, or I will need to step up again, and you know, I was going to get serious with our department head.’ Michael huff's, pretending to be exasperated. Tim chuckles again, now mostly for the joke’s sake.

‘Tim, you know I would know that you’re not having any, we’re going to work in the same place in two months’

‘I’ll be fine, geez. And it will be Mr. Wayne two months from now, so you better get used to it’

Michael rolls his eyes and finishes his coffee in one gulp then hops from the barstool, leaves a tenner on a bar for their coffees. They shake hands, half-awkwardly, then Michael half-hugs Tim.

‘See you later, Mr. Wayne. And Good fuck.’