#my brain has been so scrambled the last few day (i think bc i am getting a cold) but i am just trying to make it be quiet

[probablyscreamingintothevoid]

Things that have had an impact on me in 2023

Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (series)

Blue October (especially seeing them live)

Yuri on Ice

Writing my story for Yuri on Ice

My bestfriend traveling the world

Going back to therapy

Volleyball

First Light by Hozier

Writing when I am angry

Reading books (fanfiction as well, but I have struggled with that more than books)

Piercing my nose

Dying my hair

Purging my physical belonging, especially clothes

[sailxrmxrs]

hello i really love your writing! if you're taking requests, i've been thinking about the infinite blue boys in a typical office setting with the MC and what that would be like? thank you!!~

this has been sat in my inbox for SO LONG I AM SO SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS SDKFDGS but!! better later than never right??? right?????? anyway now is the perfect time to finally get around to this bc my brain has been so occupied lately playing sympathy kiss so office based otome is right at the forefront of my mind hehe. it's like it was meant to be. ALSO thank u so much!! i don't think too much about what i write after it's been posted so i forget people actually look at it sometimes sksjfkf TY FOR REQUESTING THIS WAS LOVELY TO THINK ABOUT also incredibly funny looking at the last post of me being like 'i want to get back to writing more regularly!!' as if i didn't slink back into the shadows again for four months this was also the first thing i've written since getting my new keyboard which is really taking some getting used to especially with nails dsklfsg still, enjoy office time gamers o7

♡ leo ♡

Leo definitely seems like the type to bring the energy to his office department, especially on a Monday morning when everyone wants nothing more than to have had just one more day to spend at home before work started all over again for another week. He'd be the only one with a spring in his step as he went about his morning, filling his water bottle, getting situated at his desk. Speaking of his desk, Leo's workspace would be the definition or organised chaos. Post-it notes are scattered across the bottom of his monitor, there's a pile of loose sheets covered in haphazard notes scrawled across them, and there are definitely more than a few pens with no ink left strewn across the desk. They also happen to be mixed in with perfectly usable pens so Leo would have to scramble for a pen when someone from another department came to brief him on a project he was working on. Every time, without fail, he is grabbing pens and scribbling on a notepad until he finds one that works enough to make notes clear enough for him to reference later on. You ask each time why he doesn't just go through and throw away the empty pens to which Leo jokingly scoffs about how he finds the right pens first time every time. He does not.

He's very much the epitome of a work best friend. Someone who will text you on the weekend like 'I know we spend every day sat next to each other but can we hang out together pls'. He enjoys your company okay!! You are very fun and he wants you to know that!! Will find himself getting into a bit of trouble for getting distracted talking about weekend plans with you but can you blame him? It's a Friday afternoon and his brain has logged off. Unfortunately for Leo, despite his brain having logged off, his computer is very much logged in so he has to force himself to keep going for that last stretch of hours between him and the weekend. Will whine and complain to you about how Fridays should be half days which, given Leo's usual demeanour at the start of the week, is an amusing shift in tone. Cut to a couple of hours later and Leo is shutting down his computer the second the clock ticks over to 5pm. He'll swing his chair around to face you, staring you down until you finally close everything down to get ready to leave. Think puppy watching and waiting for you to take them on a walk. Sometimes if you have plans for the Friday evening, he'll offer to pick you up on the way to work to save you the drive too. Also because it gives him an excuse for being late like oh no there was just so much traffic leaving their place I definitely did not stop for coffee on the way here not at all!! He absolutely did but don't worry he didn't forget to pick up your favourite order too~

I think Leo would be a really good motivator in the office too. If a day was going particularly bad, or if a really busy period struck he would be the perfect person to help keep your mood in balance. He's very encouraging for you to step away from your desk. Take a break, have a drink, maybe get a little snack to energise yourself. But he doesn't do it to distract you nor does he overstep any boundaries. He will offhandedly comment on how hard you've been working and make a gentle suggestion that a break is needed. He'd also offer to lend a hand if there was anything particularly pressing that was weighing you down. Try and say no. Try it. Never works. Leo's always happy to help because he knows you would do the same for him and have previously done so in the past when he was newer to the job and hadn't quite gotten his bearings yet. He makes the long days pass by quicker. Truly the best person to work with.

♡ milo ♡

Milo is absolutely that one coworker who keeps to himself a lot and develops this really cool and mysterious reputation. No one really knows what he does for work and no one ever asks him either because they're a little too intimidated to talk to him. It's not that he's had any particularly bad run-ins with anyone else in the office but more so that he no one really knows a whole lot about him. Any conversations about his weekend plans or what he did the evening prior are met with the most normal responses someone could muster. He's going grocery shopping, he's visiting family, he stayed in last night to watch tv. No one knows anything about his life outside of work and no one's bumped into him anywhere but in the office. The only reason people don't speculate that he lives there is because they see him drive in and park in the same spot at the same time each morning. Him keeping to himself isn't really an antisocial thing, but more so that he's there to work so would rather just get on with whatever he has to do with minimal distractions. He's an efficient man and doesn't like people stealing his attention away from any sort of deadline.

Then along comes this slight change in the office layout and suddenly your desk has been moved directly next to his. Surprise had left you stunned for a moment when Milo greeted you that first morning before sitting down and getting himself set up for the working day. He still never offered much conversation, just the usual 'good morning' and 'have a good evening' as you both left the office. It wasn't until you both stayed behind a little late one Friday evening to finish some paperwork before the weekend and he'd stricken up a conversation while walking back to your cars. It was mostly small talk, nothing of too much substance, but it was far more than he gave anyone else. If you ask, he simply answers that until the clock hits around 5pm, he's at work. Once he's left the office building, he's just normal Milo again. It's his way of separating work and his personal life. Honestly, his work/life balance is enviable.

Over time, as you grow closer, he'll start to chat more during office hours. Asking what you thought of a recent episode of a show, if you'd seen the news about an upcoming game. And your closeness wouldn't go unnoticed. You'll get coworkers whispering to you on your lunch break asking to share some information since they'd barely seen Milo speak with anyone else so openly before. You'd always politely decline, telling them he never really shared anything special and it was mostly just work related things—a white lie, of course, but what they didn't know didn't hurt them. Milo would appreciate it too, often voicing his complaints about the busybodies in the office not so subtly whispering about him. He didn't care too much about their speculations of him until they started dragging you into it too. Grumpy Milo grumbling into his coffee cup asking why they cared so much anyway. Who cares who he speaks to at work (He cares. But he won't tell you that).

♡ rory ♡

Rory at any given moment in time will take the opportunity to complain about something that has happened in the office that day. Whether it's someone not submitting documents on time or somebody emailing him with any extra set of tasks on top of his already stacked workload, he will be sending you a string of messages to blow off some steam. The first time it'd happened, you were sitting in the break room enjoying your lunch when Rory slumped into the chair next to you and signed so heavily you thought something terrible had happened and he was barely keeping himself together. As it had turned out, a new intern had done something without running it by anyone else first and caused a particularly big problem. One that Rory's manager decided would be his responsibility to resolve before the day's end. As well as meet his own deadlines for the same evening. To say he was stressed was an understatement. So Rory had taken solace in your quiet presence and let out his frustrations. Once he'd gotten it all out of his system, he apologised for the outburst and introduced himself, realising the two of you had never actually spoken before. He then offered to lend a listening ear for your own work annoyances, attentively taking it all in while you spoke. Once your lunch break came to an end, you exchanged contacts with the promise that you could be each other's dedicated work therapist whenever someone or something had pissed you off.

From that point on, you'd receive the odd message here and there throughout the day from Rory with the latest complaint. At first, it was just a way to get the annoyances off your chests but as time went on, conversations started to meander and before long you were becoming closer and closer. You didn't see each other much while working—only ever in passing if you needed to deliver a document to a different department or if there was a meeting you needed to attend. Your texts were your main point of contact with Rory until he suggested you start coordinating your lunch breaks so that you could actually hang out face-to-face rather than via text message. Coworkers would definitely start to speculate how and why these two individuals from completely different departments became friends or if there was something more to the relationship. Especially considering Rory, much like Milo, was more reserved and didn't really show much of an effort to become friends with the people he worked with. He was amicable enough but kept the colleague boundary up like a wall. Except with you, anyway.

I think Rory would want to extend your work friendship beyond office hours and would start wanting to text you later in the evening but is so nervous to come across as being too forward. He likes to act as though he's a very nonchalant person but he really isn't at all. Especially not where you are concerned. So you'd definitely need to be the one to nudge and initiate more of a friendship between you both. It wouldn't take much. All you'd need to do was text him one Saturday morning and mention how you were planning for a bookshop trip and as if he wanted to come along. He texts back almost instantly with a big 'YES' followed immediately by a 'glad you've finally recognised my superior taste in books' purely to save face for how eager he must have seemed. Would come into the office on the Monday with red cheeks once he saw you in the staff car park and try to sound as normal as possible commenting on how he had a good weekend. For his own sanity, just go along with it. He begs.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei is the new starter who doesn't have a whole lot of office experience under his belt. He's bright eyed and eager to learn on the job but is also somewhat nervous to make mistakes or ask too many questions. It takes him a little while to settle in and feel fully comfortable with his surroundings but once he does, Alexei starts to really flourish. Once he knows you're happy to answer all of his questions and won't scold him for not understanding something straight way, he will come to you with an entire monologue of queries he wants to clarify. Literally rambles this long stream of consciousness before reaching the end of his list and looking at you all expectantly for your response. Listens so intently while he's perched on his desk chair, scribbling down notes as you run through everything he'd asked. Then turns back to his computer screen with a 'thank you' and then doesn't say another word for like two hours. He'll just be typing and clicking away with this intense focus until you have to tap on his shoulder and remind him to take a break from the screen for a few minutes. Will struggle to pull himself away for breaks because once he's in the zone he is IN. He only really likes stepping away from his desk when he has reached a good stopping point and he absolutely hates leaving a task partially finished.

I don't think Alexei would be a super social person at work. It wouldn't be for any particular reason other than the thought didn't really occur to him? He prefers to take his breaks at his desk because his chair is comfortable enough so the only people he really talks to on the regular are the people he works with directly. Being new, he hasn't had much of a reason to visit the other departments nor has he been brought on to any big projects that would have him meeting and working with anyone else around the office. Even after he's been there for a little while, he's reached a point where he feels awkward introducing himself because he's not exactly new anymore but he also doesn't know a lot of names. Whenever there's an office party or holiday event, Alexei will turn and whisper to you asking who that was or to remind him of a name. He could have had a good ten minute conversation with someone who and not had a single clue as to what their name was. It makes for some funny encounters, especially if it's someone not well liked within the office. They'd strike up a conversation just for Alexei to clearly not know who they are. We love to see it.

After Alexei has been working in the office for a few months and has gotten nicely settled in his job, I can see him being really welcoming to a new starter. In the same way you answered all his questions and helped him along with his training, Alexei would do the same for the new person. He might come across a little too excited with how forthcoming he is with explanations or offers to help out with anything they're struggling with but it's clear that he means well. He's just a little enthusiastic!! Would also start to add little decorations on his desk. He doesn't do anything too special, but he might have a tiny figurine of a jellyfish sat under his monitor and would have themed notepads and matching pens to go with them. If he's going to spend most of his day there, he wants it to feel like it's his personal little corner.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn is the high ranking manager CEO businessman who is also one of the most likable people around the office. Despite him always being seen in his signature suits and ties with some sort of important document in hand at any given moment, he was genuinely pleased to speak with anyone working there. He has his moments of being the stern business type, particularly when in stressful meetings to discuss the company's performance for the quarter and their targets for the next quarter. Overall, however, he remains a generally calming presence. If you were his assistant, he'd try to alleviate as much of the pressure of the role as he could. He knew he was a painfully busy man and that you had no end of meetings to schedule, companies to contact for collaborations and partnerships. There was never really an end to your workload for which he felt a tad guilty. Anytime you entered his private office, reeling off the schedule for the afternoon or informing him of a visitor who had arrived to meet with him, Brooklyn is offering to make you a cup of tea or coffee no matter how many times you insist that that's your job, not his. He never listens.

I think he'd take a lot of interest in you as a person too, not wanting there to be this distinct barrier of boss and employee. He would much rather you both felt you stood on equal ground. That mindset had gotten him into some mild altercations in meetings when other company executives had made some sort of snide comment regarding your involvement in the discussions. Brooklyn wasn't going to stand for one of his most trusted and hardworking colleagues to be taken for granted. The strained tension never left the boardroom until a few minutes after the meeting ended and Brooklyn stormed out looking angrier than you'd ever seen him. Would be silent as he poured himself a cup of tea and then give you this serious talk about how if that were to ever happen without him around report it to him immediately. His expression was much sterner that you'd experienced from all your time working directly with Brooklyn, but it was evident that it came from a place of respect. And he explained as much as he leaned against his desk, pinching the spot between his brows as if the encounter had given him a headache.

There had never been any repeat instances following that afternoon, though you had overheard some whispers about the incident. Mostly from people surprised to hear that Brooklyn had raised his voice. Anytime you commented on it while presenting him with new paperwork, Brooklyn would adjust his tie awkwardly, face heating at the lack of composure he'd now exposed to the office. He took pride in coming across in a well-presented and calm manner so this one lapse of his self-restraint made him feel a touch embarrassed each time he was reminded of the event; in those moments he seemed less like the important business figure and more like a close friend you could playfully tease in passing moments between the busy hours. It was a comfortable and welcomed dynamic for the both of you.

♡ tobias ♡

Tobias is without a doubt the office socialite. He's always popping his head into the different departments with a request or to catch up after the weekend. He reminds me of someone I work with who is incredibly easy going and is friends with basically everyone in the office. Tobias can have a tendency to cause disruptions in that his voice will carry in an office room and he doesn't really realise how much of a distraction his presence can be sometimes. He doesn't mean to pull people away from anything important! But he also can't really help himself when it's the middle of the week and he's got all kinds of work adjacent stories to be shared. Will perch himself on your desk and start rambling away about something, not really noticing if you were paying him your full attention or not. It's only after he asks you a question and you noncommittally answer with a vague 'yes' that he'll start whining about how you're not listening to him. As much as we'd like to chat, some of us have work to do, Tobias. When you question him about his own work, Tobias will conveniently remember he needs to be somewhere else, dodging the question entirely and scampering away to a different department. There is usually a shaking of heads that follows after Tobias whenever he dashes off somewhere else—it's always from a place of endearing acceptance.

I can see Tobias being involved in the marketing side of a business. Definitely the one to organise big events and staff parties. He needs someone to rein him in though because some of his ideas aren't quite workplace or coworker friendly. He hears office party and thinks hell yeah time to go wild go crazy but no Tobias please the last time that happened you broke multiple office chairs we can't afford to keep replacing them every time. Would enlist you for help too because you're his favourite person to bother at work. Whether you humour him and play along or tell him to, light heartedly, leave you alone, Tobias will find his way to your desk for some quality catchup time. What do you mean it's Monday and you're busy? He needs to tell you about this movie he saw on Saturday that he thinks should be the theme of the next work event. He's also the type to bring food to your desk too. Will sometimes just buy lunch for you and pry your hands away from your keyboard so that he can slide a salad or pot of pasta into your grasp. Tobias takes lunch breaks very seriously. He'll also get treats for people in the office too! Buys little cakes or chocolates just because. This is part of the reason why everyone likes him so much; can't say no to a man who keeps you well fed.

Despite poking fun at Tobias being a bit more lax around the office, I think he genuinely would be full of solid ideas and he does feel pretty passionate about certain aspects of the job too. His work/life balance isn't perfect in that he tends to prioritise life a little more than he should sometimes but there's little harm in it. He's a very good person to be around if you're the type to get a bit too wrapped up in working. Tobias is NOT letting you overwork yourself. Not on his watch!! He's a surprisingly perceptive person and can very easily tell when you're stressed or not getting as much sleep as you should. Will take it upon himself to text you at the weekend to hang out and have a movie night with him. That way he can make sure you're relaxing and not spending your limited time off working your brain. Will steal your phone directly from your hands if you're staring too hard, eyebrows furrowed, and will replace it with a snack and gently remind you that it's the weekend time not work time. He has his uses sometimes.

[jaskierx]

hi gay people in my phone who wants to hear about the Day i’ve Had

so like many of us i have a close friend from school who i was Weirdly Close with at the time and i was in love with her and i didn’t tell her and a few times we got drunk and made out and then one time we both got Really Drunk and had sex and i thought we’d go somewhere but in the morning she said she didn’t really remember it. and then later (by which point i had got together with my now husband) i told her i loved her in school and she told me she had been in love with me too but never told me and we were both kind of like ‘huh! well isn’t that something!!’

anyway i stayed with my partner and she dated a few people and eventually she started seeing this guy who is a dick and has moved her to a really remote area where his family live and she doesn’t know anybody there, she doesn’t have a job, she can’t drive, she’s relapsed with her ed, etc. and she’s marrying him next year and she desperately wants me to come to the wedding bc i’m all she has and he has vetoed it (understandably) bc he knows i don’t like him. and every time she’s drunk she messages me like ‘i wish you could come to the wedding. i’m really lonely here’ and i’ve made it so clear that if she ever wants out, i’ll make it happen, i’ll get her travel sorted, i’ll give her a place to stay, she is welcome to turn up on my doorstep unannounced in the middle of the night

and it’s been years now and i don’t see her much (like. once every couple of years) especially since she moved away. and we don’t talk very often anymore. so i kinda don’t think about it. it’s not something i’m actively worrying about. in my head i’d made my peace with it.

EXCEPT i had a really vivid dream last night (like the most vivid dream i’ve had in years) that she asked me to pick her up bc she wanted to leave him. and i did and he came home as we were leaving and had this big argument and we left anyway and went to my house. and she told me she loved me and had sex with me and my husband but in the dream it was like. entirely focused on her and then i woke up and my brain has felt like scrambled egg ever since bc it felt so fuckin real and i do not like it

bc it’s like. i don’t want to be with her. i love her and she will always be important to me but i don’t want to be her partner and i don’t want to sleep with her and i haven’t wanted that for years and years and i never want to be with anyone but my husband ever again. but i also don’t want her to marry that guy and be stuck there forever! i want better for her! he’s going to end up making her have a bunch of kids she doesn’t want and being his housewife forever and i just want to like. rescue her. which i don’t have the right to do. bc she can make her own choices and doesn’t need saving and even if she did i am not the person to do that

but i’ve spent the whole day sitting like 🫥🫥🫥 bc wtf is my brain doing man i don’t need this i had to go to work and have Meetings today. and instead i’m constantly turning the whole situation over in my head and also worrying that i’m a terrible person for essentially having a sex dream involving someone i know and have previously fucked while i’m asleep next to my partner yk. anyway!!!!!!

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[dashielldeveron]

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick. 

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here. 

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business. 

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning. 

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay. 

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one. 

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable. 

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan. 

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways. 

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly. 

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.” 

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch. 

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous,  “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth. 

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away. 

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?” 

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?” 

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth. 

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.” 

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

-------------------------------------------------

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start. 

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth. 

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him. 

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits. 

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure. 

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same. 

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away. 

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread. 

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs. 

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat. 

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.” 

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip. 

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed. 

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes. 

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable. 

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers. 

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust. 

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him. 

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea. 

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck. 

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him. 

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed. 

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs. 

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be. 

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit” 

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.” 

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster. 

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg. 

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations. 

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened. 

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye. 

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would. 

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

[goldrushzukka]

1, 2, 7, 8, 9. (Sorry, i know that's like...all of them)

1. what themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

i love writing coming out storylines. it’s not really that they’re uncommon, i just find a lot of catharsis in them. 

2. what are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? what would you avoid writing about?

i tend to avoid writing sibling dynamics bc i’m an only child and therefore not really. qualified. i love reading it though!! 

7. favourite description in your WIP?

it was really hard to pick one so i have a few answers for this bc i love to talk about myself so. (under the cut bc JESUS this got long but spoilers for and i’ll do anything you say (read it here!) ahead!!!)

- from chapter 2:

Sokka looks at him, a fantasy come to life, and takes off his stupid sweatpants.

He throws them at Zuko’s head, and earns himself a short burst of that real laugh, shocked and unguarded.

“You asshole,” Zuko says. He sits up and grabs Sokka’s hand, pulling him down on top of him. Something comes alive under Sokka’s skin where Zuko’s fingers graze his wrist. He calls it lust and ignores the fact that it feels nothing like it.

Zuko kisses him, his mouth still in the shape of laughter, and the alive thing screams for his attention. Sokka buries it and hopes it won’t deafen him before they’re done.

im very fond of this whole chapter (i think it’s probably my favourite? it was definitely the easiest to write) but i really love looking back on this part particularly now that we’re in the angsty part of the story bc this is where it all started. yes technically it started in chapter 1 but this is when sokka starts to fall for zuko. this is the beginning of all those pesky non-casual feelings that he’s going to pretend don’t exist until someone else calls him out on them.

- also from chapter 2:

He’s forty-five minutes late already, and when he knocks, a woman made of pursed lips and sharp angles answers the door. She looks elegant and expensive the same way a skyscraper does. Or a cache of medieval weaponry.

“Oh,” Sokka says, digging into his pocket to find the map on his phone. “I must have the wrong place, sorry -”

She looks him up and down, her eyes narrowed in a way that feels violent and practiced, and her smirk turns distasteful. Sokka risks a glance down at himself, at his torn up jeans - not distressed, just torn - and the Madonna t-shirt he’s pretty sure actually belongs to Katara, and thinks she might have a point. The bag in his hand feels heavier when her eyes land on it.

“Zuzu,” the woman calls into the apartment, “your dinner’s here.”

“I didn’t order -” Zuko appears in the doorway, bitter frustration in his expression as he looks at the woman.

His eyes fall on Sokka, though, and his face clears into a light-pollution smile.

this is technically two so i will start with: i love azula. i haven’t found any room to bring her back yet but believe me i am LOOKING. she’s hot and mean and gay and i LOVE HER. oh also insider scoop but suki’s date from earlier in this chapter.......WAS azula. they probably won’t see each other again because once azula met sokka and connected his face to the Best Friends Forever picture frame on suki’s desk she stopped answering the phone.

pt 2: i’ve had a couple of comments mention the “light-pollution smile” line specifically and i am always so happy to read them bc yeah. YEAH. i’ll admit it. that line HITS. 

- from chapter 4:

He sets his phone down - only, he doesn’t. He misses the table by a mile, and in his scramble to catch his phone before it breaks on the hardwood floor and wakes Momo on the cushion beside him, his hand finds the lip of his cereal bowl, and then that’s falling, too. He manages to catch the phone, but something in his head gets lost in translation on its way down his arms, and he ends up with a boxers-only lap full of soggy Cheerios.

Momo gets a splash of milk on his back and hisses at Zuko for his crimes, and somehow that’s the worst part of it.

haley @fruitysokka said that this passage reads like an action movie and i think about it all the time. (thank u haley i love u)

- lastly this extended metaphor from chapter 6:

The soup is good, once the heat of it clears him up enough to taste it. It’s thick and warm and there’s enough pepper that Sokka gets a kick from it even in his condition. He feels it all the way down his throat and into his stomach, where it mixes with the prickly nervousness he’s feeling from Zuko’s attention.

He sets the bowl down on the table and asks, eyes stuck on his hands in Momo’s fur where he’s climbed into his lap, “How was the date?”

“It was good, actually,” Zuko says. “Jet seems like a nice guy. He’s very - uh - passionate, I guess you could call it? He’s a climate and human rights activist.”

The spines of Sokka’s nervousness turn to daggers.

...

“I said yes. We’re getting lunch on Sunday.”

The daggers are swords now, and Sokka’s heart sinks down, down, down, right to the hilt.

...

“I’ll text you when I’m home,” Zuko promises, and Sokka’s heart skewers itself on a second sword.

Zuko’s smile when Sokka says, “Thank you for the soup,” is a third.

The door closing behind him is a fourth.

The silence as Sokka shuffles back to bed is every single one that remains.

something something canon swordsmen something pride comes before the fall something chivalry fell on his sword from eden by hozier. you guys get it i dont have to explain myself

8. favourite dialogue in your WIP?

ok so i cant share my actual favourite dialogue bc it's a spoiler for chapter 8 and i technically haven't written it yet (it's in my brain just.....plaguing me) but it's GOOD i SWEAR so. once again i have more than one answer bc actually? i love this fic and im proud of it. deal with it.

- from chapter 1:

“Hey, stranger,” Sokka says, still watching him in the mirror. The corner of Zuko’s mouth ticks up.

“You’re not following me, are you?” Zuko’s tone is seductive, endlessly so, and Sokka wonders while he dries his hands if he has to put it on or if he just sounds like that.

“You give a guy one compliment and he thinks you’re stalking him,” Sokka mutters, and Zuko laughs, low and enticing. Not the genuine, endearing laugh of this morning, but one with an agenda.

Well. Sokka always likes a plan.

“Are you following me? ” Sokka asks. He spies a miraculous dry patch on the sink bank and tries to be casual about the way he hops up to sit on it.

“I might be,” Zuko says, and at Sokka’s raised eyebrow, he continues, “I saw you at the bar and I wanted to talk to you. Sue me.”

“You wanted to talk.”

“Amongst other things.”

as a chronically awkward person i am INSANELY proud of the flirting in this fic. no idea if it would work in a real life situation. excited to never find out bc im not about to use lines from my fanfiction on real women. 

- from chapter 2

“You must be Suki,” Zuko says. He meets her gaze, and his fingers go still under Momo’s chin.

“And you’re Zuko,” Suki replies, her smile all different shades of intimidating. “I’d shake your hand, but I know where it’s just been.”

i wrote this entire scene just so i could have suki say this. im not even joking. suki is my favourite part of this entire fic and its not even ABOUT her.

- from chapter 3:

When Sokka crosses the room and slips under the covers beside him, Zuko says, “I can leave, if you want. I can go home.”

...

He asks, still barely hovering over Zuko, “What if I don’t want that?”

Zuko swallows. “I can stay.”

“So stay,” Sokka says, and lays his head down on Zuko’s chest.

i just think it’s sweet. i like it a lot. makes my heart hurt a little when i think about it. 

- from chapter 4:

[Suki // 15:13] there is a LOT of chmpagrjn

[Suki // 15:13] cahpmhagne

[Suki // 15:13] chsanpghn

[Suki // 15:14] alcohol :)

once again: suki is the best part of this whole fic. i love her so much. she is the reason the word bestie exists. im really proud of the texting in this fic bc it’s my first time actually including it in fic and it’s turned out really well!!

- ok last one bc i just realised this is turning into a novel. from chapter 4:

“How’s my baby?”

Zuko glances down at Momo, batting at the untied laces of his shoes with one determined paw. “He’s doing just fine.”

“And how’s Momo?”

“He’s - what?”

are there better written, more narratively important and emotive lines in this fic? yes. is this the best part of the entire thing? also yes. i invented the jin/yue wedding because i needed a reason for zuko to have a key in what became chapter 6, but sometimes i think the entire fic exists just for this exchange. best dialogue i have ever written.

9. what scene was the hardest for you to write and why?

the start of chapter 6 of aidays was difficult. i kept wanting to skip ahead to the meaty parts - i.e, zuko and his soup - but i didn’t want to do sokka a disservice like that. it was also really hard to maintain the balance of accurately describing the delirium of illness while still being coherent for the reader? so that took me a couple of days to get right.

[softspiderling]

put in love and don’t give up | t.h.

Summary: honestly, you never pegged Tom for the kind of guy that ghosts people, but here you are. Ghosted.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Harder by Jax Jones feat. Bebe Rexha

Author’s Note: it’s been a hot minute since I last posted a fic and bc @afangirlwashere made me feel bad for not posting shit, I’m back on my update schedule for now. This is somewhat based on a dream I’ve had about tom I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: angst, I guess? Also cursing probably

Word Count: 2,4k

gif is not mine!

It’s not like Tom owes you anything.

You went out for a couple of dates and apparently it just wasn’t working out for him. Even though you had thought that the dates were pretty great; you’re interested in the same things, your goals in life are similar and you’re just- on the same wavelength. Or that’s what you had thought.

YOU: Trying to take care of the mess that is my flat but instead I’m on my couch procrastinating by watching a bunch of YouTube videos.

YOU: Someone should take away my phone.

The timestamp on the text tells you that it’s been a whole two weeks since he read it. At first you thought he was busy and he’d text you back when he got the time, but you never received any reply. You had thought about double texting him, maybe he hadn’t replied because the text you had sent didn’t involve a question that’d get him to reply, but if Tom had wanted to keep texting you, he would have found an answer that kept the conversation right? So you fought the urge to send another text, but that didn’t stop you from staring at the texts every now and then when you had the time.

You even tried calling him, but that was just as fruitless; for a minute, you were worried that something had happened to him, but later that day Tom had posted a story from him and Sam at a pub. So he was fine, it’s just you that seemed to have been the problem.

But that’s fine.

You can handle rejection, that’s something you had to get used to when it came to dating in your twenties, but you never would have pegged Tom as a person who would ghost someone instead of just outright telling you that he doesn’t like you as much as you like him. But you really thought he did, with the way he was smiling at you and the interest he had showed in your degree.

It sounds cheesy but you thought he was different. Even though his job kind of scared you off at first, you couldn’t help yourself but fall for the sweet and down to earth guy he still managed to be despite his fame.

With a sigh, you exit out of the text chain and pull up your grocery list, eyes scanning the items in your cart. You’re only missing the milk and butter.

Pushing the cart towards the dairy section, you slide your phone back into the pocket of your jacket and keep your eyes open for your brand of milk, when raucous laughter pulls your attention to the corner where the dairy section meets the frozen section.

Curiously you lean over to find the source of the noise, only to see two familiar looking boys.

Harry, one of Tom’s younger brothers and Tuwaine, one of his best friends joking around next to their carts. You had gotten to know them when Tom invited you out for drinks with them. Another reason that confused you as to why he would introduce you to his brothers and friends if he wasn’t that into you.

“Hey guys,” you greet them, lifting your hand to wave at them awkwardly. Harry’s head perks up when he hears your voice and he smiles goofily at you, while Tuwaine returns the wave as they take a few steps towards you, their sides constantly colliding as if they are unable to walk straight.  

“Hey Y/N,” Harry says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heel of his feet. “Doing the weekly shopping?”

You nod and gesture towards your cart and its content. “Yeah, uh, just the basic stuff,” you said, narrowing your eyes when you glance into their carts.

“And you’re shopping for a party…?”

“What?” Tuwaine furrows his brows and turns back to look into his cart before turning back to you with a grin.

“No, it’s our basic stuff.”

“Christ,” you wince. “I really hope you’re going to the dentist regularly. I am pretty sure this amount of popsicles isn’t healthy.”

The boys shrug with laughter. “How have you been?” Harry wants to know and you give him a gentle smile.

“Fine. University’s keeping me busy. How are you guys?” you ask, hesitating. “How’s Tom?”

Tuwaine clears his throat awkwardly and Harry jabs his friend in the ribs with a glare. Your cheeks color; their awkwardness and embarrassment confirmed your fear.

So Tom is really ghosting you.

“We’re good. And Tom- he’s busy, working all the time, you know how he is,” Harry says, stumbling over his words.

“Do I though?”

The gentleness in your voice catch the boys off guard and Tuwaine rubs the back of his neck, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

Wow, what on earth moved you to even approach them? This is probably the most awkward situation you’ve ever put yourself into.

“Tom’s being an idiot,” he finally offers. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You grimace, appreciating his words but it still stings. But doesn’t rejection always sting? But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Tom didn’t even give you the courtesy of a rejection he just straight up started ignoring you.

Waving it off, you smile crookedly at him.

“It’s fine. He’s fine.”

You gesticulate wildly with your hands, to show them how fine it is. Judging by their expressions, it certainly doesn’t seem to convince them. Stilling your hands, you exhale softly.

“I’m not mad or anything,” you then sigh, defeated. “I’m just a little bit disappointed. But I’ll get over it, you guys don’t need to worry about it or anything.”

You thrum your palms against the handle of the cart, smacking your lips together. “Well, this has been enough awkwardness for today. Uhm, I’ll see you guys around?”

Leaving the question hanging in the air, you shoot them a tentative smile; their chorused “Bye Y/N!”s make you sigh. As you turn around the corner, you hear them squabbling and you strain your ears to find out, what it is about.

“Congrats Tuwaine, this was probably the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever had.”

“What are you looking at me for? It’s not my fault! If it’s anyone’s, it’s Tom’s!”

There’s a pause and you can hear someone sigh.

Then:

“I know it is. He’s just scared, you know how important his privacy is to him. Maybe Harrison can talk to him when he gets back. But I get it though, he’s-“

You almost bump your cart into an old lady, too busy trying to eavesdrop their conversation.

“Young lady!” The lady sends you a menacing glare and you apologize half-heartedly, too distracted by what you’ve just heard.

What was Harry talking about? What did he mean when he said that Tom was scared? You’re confused, you thought you had a clear picture of why he had stopped texting you. Lost in thoughts, you make your way to the check out, and put your groceries on the counter to get rung up.

By the time you get home you still haven’t figured out what it was that Tom is scared of and you almost break your brain trying to think of a logical explanation.

As you’re lying in bed that night, you come to the conclusion that you might never find out what Harry was talking about and see no point in obsessing over something that you are unable to change, so you push the matter in the far back of your mind, hoping that you would soon forget about it. But that is easier said than done, right?

Over the weekend you try your hardest to forget about the encounter with Harry and Tuwaine, stopping your brain from trying to find a solution to Tom’s problem you know nothing about and it’s harder than you thought it would be.

Even your readings for your business class seem to be offering basically no distraction whatsoever, which is why you find yourself at a small café down the street Sunday afternoon. With the sunlight filtering through the window, throwing the busy café in a shade of warm orange, you sit by the window with your text marker, scanning your assigned readings and occasionally marking a passage or two.

“I’m sorry, Miss?”

You look up from your text, your vision a little blurry before finally recognizing the barista standing in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“We’re closing in five minutes,” she tells you and your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. You’ve been so engrossed in the article you’ve been reading, you hadn’t realized how late it has gotten: the lights have long been turned on in the café and you’ve noticed that all the chairs and tables have been cleared except of the one you’re currently occupying.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you apologize and scramble your documents together, stuffing them in your bag.

“It’s no problem, really,” the barista gives you a warm smile. “Have a nice evening.”

You shoulder your bag and send her a small wave as you headed through the door.

“Thanks! You too!”

The darkness from outside catches you by surprise and you pull your cardigan tighter around your chest, starting your walk back home. Hearing your stomach grumble, you’re reminded of the lack of food your day has brought and while you turn the corner to your flat, you try to come up with a quick meal with the ingredients you know you have at home.

Rummaging in your bag for your keys as you get closer to your building door, you finally manage to grasp the small fluffy key chain from the depth of your bag and lift your head. That’s when you see Tom sitting on the steps that lead up to the door.

You still and he jumps up, dusting off his pants. He looks tired, the denim jacket was slung tightly around his torso and you’re pressing your lips together before slowly taking a few steps towards him.

“Hey,” you greet him wearily. “What are you doing here?”

Tom rubs the back of his neck. “Hi Y/N. I, uh-“ he gestures towards the steps he’s just been sitting on. “I’ve been waiting for you uh, here. Been here for a while actually. “

“Oh. Why didn’t you call?”

He ducks his hand and his hands disappear into the pockets of his denim jacket. “Wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”

You look at him with an unreadable expression and the keys dangle from your hand as you unlock the door, keeping it open with the heel of your shoe.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, and he nods before following you inside and to your flat. He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you close your door behind you and take off your shoes, before moving to your couch, immediately taking refuge under your fluffy blanket.

Tom on the other hand looks like he’s out of place as he stands in the middle of the room, his eyes darting around.

The tension between you two is palpable and even though you know it’s his turn to speak, you’re aware that he’s fighting to bring his thoughts into words.

“You know you didn’t have to come all this way to do this, right?” you finally say, clasping your hands together.

“To do what?”

“I got the hints, Tom and I also rant into Harry and Tuwaine the other day. You’re here to let me down easy,” you say, pulling your knees close to your torso and he gapes at you, slowly moving to sit on the couch, though the distance between you is still there.

“What? No! That’s not why I’m here, why-“ He breaks off, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “What did they tell you?”

You shrug. “That I didn’t do anything wrong and that you’re an idiot?”

“Well, I am an idiot,” Tom admits. “But not for the reason you think, I promise Y/N.”

“So you’re not here to break things off with me?”

He shakes his head and carefully reaches out to touch your hand which is resting on top of your knee. Your pinkie twitches and you eye his fingers inching slowly towards yours, but you don’t move your hand away. Tom takes your hand in his and looks at, his brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry I ignored you,” he says quietly. “It just… It’s so hard dating someone when you work in the movie industry. The media has no respect for your privacy and I really didn’t want to put you in harm’s way, especially with all the people who are weirdly insisting on me and Z being a couple-.”  

You didn’t realize that he felt this way. Even though you knew that he was struggling with all the attention, you thought he could handle it well, but apparently he’s an even better actor than you thought he was.

“I was so conflicted. I like you so much and I thought if I’d push you away, you’d move on. But when Harry told me how lovely you were being, still asking how I was doing even though I was being a jerk to you I realized how childish I was being. That I needed to be honest with you and let you decide for yourself if I am worth it or not.”

Tom chews on his lower lip as his voice quiets down and you squeeze his hand, giving him a soft smile.

“You’re right. You should have been honest with me,” you say. “Even though I am just a basic civilian-“

He snorts out a laugh and you grin at him.

“I can imagine how hard it can be in your line of work. But Tom, I’ve already been thinking of this since our first date. It’s not like I’m going completely blind into this. And you’re worth it, okay? Even if you’re an asshole who ignored me for two weeks.”

He ducks his head sheepishly and you shake your head fondly, moving your legs so he can come closer before he leans in to give you a quick kiss. You barely have the time to react and your cheeks redden, before the two of you lean in for another kiss.

Pulling away, Tom lets out a soft sigh and leans his forehead against yours.

“Thanks for giving me a second chance, Y/N. My brothers would have kicked my butt for losing someone as great as you.”

You shrug with your shoulders, a pleased smile on your face. So you did leave a good impression on Harry, despite your initial awkwardness.

“And you would have deserved it,” you point out and he grins, looping his arms around your waist.

“Trust me, I know.”

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[in-tua-deep]

I haven't interacted before but I love all your aus and your writing! Reading them a while back got me back into the umbrella academy. I just read your ben saves the day au and everything about it is amazing and also makes me very sad. Do you think Klaus was there or ever manifests himself with his powers or something? It's wonderful where it ends but the whole family together would make it so much happier...

!!!!! thank you!! and thank you even more for asking me about the ben saves the day au bc I actually did have a vague idea on how to get Klaus back in the au and even though your idea with him managing to manifest himself with his own powers is probably way more valid my brain produced a slightly. stranger option lmao

(ben saves the day au can be found right here)

So it’s after everyone has gone home. Ben is left in his apartment with his two cats and also Five who, Ben is discovering, is super super messed up about everything. 

(every day Ben thanks god that Five is living with him and not in the manor where there are about six hundred different triggers floating around)

Ben tells his coworkers that, with his father’s death (which they know about bc of his time off work) he gained custody of his 'nephew’ who Ben would have stolen years ago if he’d even thought that he was in the house (truth) and that Five has multiple issues

his coworkers are very supportive

Ben calls in a few favors and manages to get Five’s existence legalized by claiming that Five is his own son who Reginald managed to get his hands on after the death of the original Five. 

(“I would have been sixteen, Ben.”

“People have had kids younger, and you were a teenage runaway. People would absolutely believe you made bad life choices.”

“Ben!”)

And Ben has friends, okay. His coworkers are all super supportive and swing around with extra food and hand me down clothes from their own teenage kids and other supplies that Ben might need as the sudden guardian of a teenage boy. 

And Five doesn’t even have to do anything to sell the lie, because he’s wary of all of them, flinches at loud noises, and they all see him pocketing extra food when he thinks no one is looking. Five tends to retreat to the bedroom (it’s a one bedroom apartment - him and Ben are sharing right now) when people come over and since Ben has politely asked Five to Not use his powers around his friends until he tells them he’s the Horror on his own terms, Five can’t even sneak to the kitchen or anything

They worry about Ben’s financial situation, taking on a kid on such short notice, but Ben assures them that he’s fine and that he can just use his father’s inheritance money.

(Reginald was a billionaire. They are all legally his children. None of they are actually going to be wanting for money for a good long while.)

So everything is settling down and smoothing out. Ben has custody of Five. Allison is in negotiations with Patrick and is being allowed supervised visits with her daughter. Luther and Vanya are both in therapy. Diego is grudgingly using Reginald’s money to buy a new place that isn’t a boiler room that’s big enough for both him and Grace (and of course to get her charging station to a portable state) and last Ben heard he was looking at somewhere pretty close to where Ben and Five live, which is a nice thought. Ben’s trying to convince Luther to move out of the manor as well and get his own place, and he’s at least thinking about it so - progress.

That’s around the time when Ben goes to sleep and has a really wild dream.

The dream is desaturated, and there’s a little girl on a bicycle. She looks very aggrieved. 

“Are you Ben?” She demands to know.

“Uh,” Ben says very intelligently, because he was not expecting to be interrogated by a little girl in his dream. This is probably Five’s fault because the little gremlin convinced Ben that ice cream for dinner was necessary. Are ice cream dreams a thing? “Yes.”

The girl tosses her hands up in sarcastic triumph, “Wonderful! Then he can be your problem! I have held on for as long as humanly possible, but I’m done. He’s constantly badgering me and I can’t handle it. You idiots already mucked around in the time stream, this shouldn’t cause reality to collapse. Probably.”

“What?” Ben asks blankly, because reality collapsing sounds a little bit concerning. 

“You’ll see.” The little girl promises darkly, waving her hand.

And then Ben wakes up, and he wakes up wheezing because what the fuck, was Five jumping on his stomach like an actual five-year-old right now? He opens his eyes, and meets startled green ones and a mop of curly hair that definitely does not belong to Five. 

“Ben!?” The boy who is definitely Klaus who is dead yelps loudly, startling back and waking up Five who startles bad enough to roll completely off the bed and scramble to his feet.

Klaus looks exactly the way he did when he died. Sixteen years old with a wild mop of hair that Reginald had been threatening to cut for weeks. 

(He looks like Nathan Young in Misfits, y’all. That’s it.)

“Klaus!?” Five yells, making Klaus swing around to stare at Five with equally wide eyes. 

“You can see me?” Klaus asks, incredulously, patting himself down. He’s in the umbrella academy uniform and Ben allows himself a moment to close his eyes and swallow his grief because he is apparently the responsible adult in this situation. 

“Klaus,” Ben says gently, and both boys attention go to him, “Does God happen to look like a little girl on a bike, by any chance?”

“Uh,” Klaus manages, which Ben takes as confirmation.

He pinches the bridge of his nose to hold back the headache (and the tears because Klaus is here and he’s not dead anymore except he was dead and Ben doesn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with this at ass o’ clock in the morning). He pulls off the covers and swings himself out of bed, quickly crossing the room to open some drawers. 

Klaus and Five both watch him warily, but it’s unfounded. All Ben does is grab an old t-shirt and some sweatpants and toss them at Klaus. 

(Klaus doesn’t even lift his hands to catch them, just looks alarmed when they hit him in the face. Ben does not apologize, because he might laugh and if he laughs he will cry)

“It is,” Ben glances at the alarm clock, “Three twenty six in the morning. I am going to call off work today so we can deal with... whatever this is. But that’s not happening at three in the morning. Klaus, get changed, you aren’t sleeping in that. The bed might be a squeeze but at this point I don’t care.”

Klaus is wide-eyed and Ben’s heart aches but he gives a quick shaky nod and just starts peeling off his uniform there and then. Ben crawls back into bed, scooching over so he’s in the middle and impatiently gesturing at Five, who still has his back to the wall like a cornered animal. 

Without taking his eyes off of Klaus, Five slowly creeps back over to the bed. Usually Ben gives Five his space on the bed, but that’s not going to work tonight with three of them so when Five crawls in Ben wraps an arm around his still tiniest brother and presses a kiss against that dark mop of hair. 

Five’s face pulls into a scowl but he doesn’t protest the actions, allowing himself to curl into Ben’s warmth. 

Klaus hovers at the edge of the bed once changed, looking uncertain. Ben’s sweatpants are a bit short on him - even at sixteen Klaus is lanky, but serviceable. 

“Come on then,” Ben says, reaching out a hand because he has two arms. Klaus doesn’t need more of an invitation, rocketing into the bed and crashing against Ben’s side, making the bed sway and Five yelp a protest. 

Klaus’s skin is ice cold (Ben had forgotten his brother’s unfortunate circulation issues) but Ben doesn’t shove him away. Just tucks his arm around Klaus’s bony shoulders and reels him in closer, because his bed really isn’t that big and he doesn’t want either of his brothers to fall out. 

Klaus sniffles wetly, and Ben leans over to press a kiss into Klaus’s curly mop of hair. Five makes a small sound of protest - his need to be an attention hog temporarily overruling his dislike of being treated like a child. 

“Go to sleep,” Ben tells both of his boys sleepily, “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

He gets some vague confirmation noises from both sides (though Klaus still sniffles) and Ben really is tired because he barely closes his eyes before falling back into the void of sleep.

His last thought before he falls is - Please, god, let this not be a dream.

He wakes up in the morning feeling heavy. This is because Klaus has rolled in the night to be pretty much bodily on top of Ben, his curly hair tickling at Ben’s nose and his elbow kind of digging into his stomach. Five is on his other side, plastered against him. Their legs are all tangled enough that Ben can’t actually tell which foot belongs to him, Five, or Klaus. 

A quick check of the time reveals that he still had a few minutes before his alarm goes off. 

On one hand, Ben never wants to leave this bed. He’s a little bit afraid that moving will make the magic vanish, and Klaus will disappear again, but he also really needs to call work and tell them he can’t come in today. So reluctantly, he shifts to free his hands from the pile and in doing so manages to wake both boys.

It’s a sleepy slow waking up, Five grumbling in a way that Ben will never tell him is adorable and Klaus giving a while as his limbs straighten in a big stretch. They both open their eyes, see each other and Ben, and blink in alarm.

Ben does not want a repeat of the early morning and just shrugs them both off of him, “Good morning.” He greets them as he peels himself out of bed with a yawn. “Give me a minute to call work. Five, show Klaus where the bathroom is - ”

“I know where it is.” Klaus cuts Ben off, and then proceeds to look surprised when Ben actually pauses at the interruption. 

“What is going on.” Five doesn’t even asks, because he seems to have accepted that this is their lives, their cosmic punishment for having superpowers or something. He just looks between Klaus and Ben like one of the will make the world make sense again.

Ben sympathizes. He can feel a full blown freak out building up in his chest - he just needs to call work and then call the rest of the family to come over as well before he can have it. 

“Hold that thought.” Ben says, holding up a finger as he scoops his phone up and walks to the kitchen to make his call.

And he sends the bat signal to the family is a succinct “hey guys please come to the apartment asap klaus showed up in my room last night, five can confirm” which absolutely sets that cat among chickens as the group chat BLOWS UP but ben can’t bring himself to read everything so he just. starts making breakfast.

five and klaus emerge from the bedroom and five has his hand clamped around Klaus’s elbow and Klaus is sort of boggling at the connection and isn’t protesting and five’s face looks tight and ben can see that freak out waiting to happen as well

and that’s how klaus ends up back with the family. God kicks him out because she doesn’t like him, Ben gets the shock of his life, Five is very concerned, and the whole family ends up freaking out

Ben ends up getting a bigger bed because Klaus ends up staying with him and Five

Ben ends up finally coming clean to all his friends about being the horror and that Five is not his nephew but is actually his time travelling brother and also his brother who had powers to do with the dead has come back from the dead

(and yes, these brothers are also the very same brothers he named his cats after - at least Seya and Brat take Klaus’s presence like champs. it’s almost like they’re used to him being around already...)

ben should really consider getting a bigger apartment considering there are now three of the living in there but honestly?? Five doesn’t sleep well alone (which they figured out when Ben tried to take the couch in the early days) and Klaus is an absolute octopus who is constantly marveling at being able to have human contact and Ben really doesn’t have the heart to kick them out of his room so.

(they’re both so touch starved, and they both break Ben’s heart)

but also the bigger apartment consideration might be necessary because every single sibling seems to trot through Ben’s apartment with great frequency. it’s a thing. they all want to spend time with Five and Klaus.

(there’s a heartbreaking moment where Five thinks that because Ben had Klaus back he’s going to kick Five out which they both hug it out over)

they all have to figure it out together and it’s a big mess but at the end of the day

what’s family for?

[hongism]

finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 8

Pairing: TBA (i have no clue at the moment, ot7 for now)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 6094

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Chapter specific warnings: discussions of character death, graphic depictions of anxiety attacks, discussion of suicidal thoughts and actions

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: hello hello this is somewhat of a surprise chapter because i didn’t have this on the schedule or planned in my mind really. However, i find it easiest to write my feelings and since i’ve been feeling down recently, this chapter was easier to write and i felt more inspired to work on it. It’s also been quite some time since i posted, and for that i am hugely and immensely sorry. time slipped away from me and i put this story on the backburners of my mind for too long.

Also, this chapter contains a small surprise for my boo @maptoyoongi​ bc Mari has been so helpful and kind and lovely about helping me with this story and supporting me big time when it comes to this story. I never feel as though it’s enough to just say thank you and i wanted a way to thank you in a special way ;-; even now, i don’t feel as though this is enough to say thank you <3

(it’s been so long that this is the first time i’m actually using the tag list omg)

tag list: @succulentjinkook​ @mxrzan​

7 | 8 | 9

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 8: Black Waters

It's cold. The edges of autumn have seeped their way into the clinic, bringing brown and red leaves to the trees around the basketball court, and the season is windier than usual. A gust of wind passes over Jungkook's body. He doesn't brace himself against the breeze despite being in a typical short sleeved white shirt. Rather he remains where he is, sprawled out in the middle of the basketball court and staring up at the clouded sky with an equally clouded mind.

Cold.

Everything is cold. His fingers are never warm anymore, the cold seeping to his palms on occasion. Part of Jungkook knows that he should be worried. It's a concern, maybe a serious health concern in fact, and yet...nothing.

Cold.

Jungkook would rather be cold.

"For the longest time, I only saw that reflection when I looked in the mirror. It took a long time to separate Kim Namjoon from the disorders the doctors labelled me with. What do you see in the mirror, Jungkook? Do you know who you are or do you just take the labels doctors give you? Are you “Jeon Jungkook, Panic Disorder” or someone else?"

Who is he? According to the voices scampering through his head without rest, he's a number of things. Loser, asshole, trash, garbage, piece of shit, dirty, crazy, a disappointment. A liar. Jeon Jungkook is a dirty fucking liar, and he knows that to be the truth.

The worst thing he could do is dwell on the past. Think about all the ways in which he wronged Taehyung, you, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hyewon, maybe every patient in the clinic. His brother...mom...father. Jungkook's head begins to tingle, a faint sensation starting in the back of his skull and quickly travelling to the space between his eyes.

“It’s far better to know people for their heart and not their mind. A person’s mind can be fucked up and distorted. But the kind of person they are, what they do for others, how they treat others — that all tells you much more. We are all souls with a house of flesh and bones, wrestling with a mind that is not our own. For some people it gets to be too much. They just want out of the cage they feel trapped in, and society is the one keeping them there. They don’t see their body as anything good, it’s only a trapped feeling, and sometimes they try to get out. They try to get rid of a certain part of themselves, kill the mind that isn’t completely theirs.”

Namjoon's words stay with Jungkook and cling to the loose bits of his brain only to eat away like a parasite. Kill the mind that isn't completely theirs. In the first few days after that conversation with Namjoon, Jungkook wanted nothing more than to do just that. It would have been so easy, so quick and painless, he could've just done it. Should have. And yet, he lives to see the clouded sky another day, back cold from the pressure of the concrete under him, and surprisingly at peace with being alive.

Nevermind the nagging voices in his mind telling him he's a coward who can't kill himself properly. Jungkook is content.

His birthday came and went without any celebration, which is exactly what he had wanted. None of his family came to visit before or after the day of his birthday, and when each Sunday ended without their presence, Jungkook found that he was not upset in the slightest.

At peace.

Such a strange concept.

When has Jungkook ever felt at peace with anything in his life? Where did this sensation come from? Namjoon's understanding and endless wise words provided relief, yes, but Jungkook wouldn't go so far as to say that they put his fears and anxieties to rest. They haven't gone anywhere. They're just...quiet, but not in a relaxing or easing sense. Jungkook flips between being content and on edge throughout the day constantly. Because it feels like they're waiting. Waiting for something, the drop of a pin, the perfect trigger, the slightest misstep.

On edge may be an understatement.

Dr. Martin requested that Jungkook begin to attend group therapy sessions at his last meeting with the doctor. The idea, in and of itself, sounds like a cruel form of torture for a person like Jungkook -- one still wrestling with the weight of what's wrong with him, the issues swirling through his body and mind.

It will be beneficial, the doctor had said.

Jungkook mentally called bullshit. How could it be? A sit down chat with other patients where he has to talk about himself and his struggles? Fuck that. Jungkook would rather have a fork stuck through the back of his hand. Besides, another huge concern that looms in the back of Jungkook's mind is that Taehyung may be at one of these sessions.

The two are still doing a fantastic job of avoiding each other, and considering they are roommates, Jungkook is impressed they've been able to keep it up this long as it is. But he can't run away when trapped in a room for a group therapy session. He has to sit there and take it, facing the person whose trust he broke, whose relationship he ruined, and whose condition has regressed dramatically in the past few days.

All my fault. My fault. I did that. It was me.

Jungkook's eyes flutter shut, blocking the sky from his view and letting the blackness behind his eyelids sweep over him.

"We need to talk."

Jimin had caught Jungkook by the arm after breakfast two days ago and uttered those four words, eyes narrowed and expression grim. For a moment, Jungkook had thought that he did something wrong or something to upset Jimin. Of course he did, he single-handedly destroyed Taehyung, but Jimin was not angry. His expression softened a moment later, and he had said that he wants to help fix things.

Again, Jungkook mentally called bullshit.

"Fix things". A load of bullshit by itself, but also something that Namjoon said was unnecessary. Fix what? The countless problems Jungkook has caused since arriving in the clinic? Or fix Taehyung himself?

Jimin never approached Jungkook after that, however, which left Jungkook to wonder when the older man is going to approach him, if he does at all. He certainly isn't going to be the one who makes an effort to bring the topic up with Jimin.

Jungkook sits up on the pavement, eyes snapping open again, and he blinks at the intrusion of light through the clouds above. With a quick glance at his watch, Jungkook scrambles to his feet and rushes for the door. His group therapy session starts in two minutes, and the room is on the other side of the clinic. Moving quickly, Jungkook manages to sprint over to where Dr. Martin's office lies, coincidentally across from the room where group therapy sessions are held. The door lies cracked open, and through the small space, Jungkook can see multiple forms already seating inside. No voices arise from the room, however, so Jungkook can at least rest in the knowledge that he isn't late.

That peace of mind dissipates the moment he steps through the door. There Taehyung sits, directly across from the door in a rickety plastic chair. He stares forward and locks eyes with Jungkook as soon as the door moves. Both men freeze, stare at each other with eyes growing wider with each passing second. Panic.

Jungkook's brain is firing warning signals everywhere, the cold in his fingertips grows to a dull ache, and he curls his fingers into his palm under the skin almost breaks. Panic.

Taehyung's face relaxes into a deadpan expression, wide eyes returning to a hooded gaze. Jungkook glances at the people on either side of him, Hyewon on one side with her platinum blonde hair that blends in too much with the white of the clinic around her, and Eunbi on his other side. Both girls wear similar expressions, but when Hyewon makes eye contact with Jungkook, she beams brightly at him. Jungkook offers his own weak smile in response but it doesn't linger. Rather, he steps around the circle of chairs and moves to the seat across from the girl, one beside Seokjin, who seems about as happy to be here as Jungkook is.

"Hi, Seokjin."

Jungkook's greeting is met with a small grunt rather than words, which catches the younger off-guard. Seokjin never fails to be bright and cheerful, chatty even when no one else seems to be in the mood to talk. The Seokjin before Jungkook now is not the one he knows, not in the slightest, and that realization itself sends a chill down the back of his neck.

"Good afternoon everyone!"

A bright and warm voice intrudes on the silence of the room. Jungkook glances up, eyes finding the door again and spotting a young woman dressed in a set of pale blue scrubs. Her smile is too bright, a foreign expression from a nurse at the clinic, and Jungkook almost hazards a guess that she's faking it. However as she steps further into the room, her grin remains. She wastes no time in coming to sit at the last available chair one seat over from Jungkook.

"I'm seeing a few new faces today. First of all, I'm so happy to see that and welcome. I hope that we are able to help you all and this session offers you some peace from the harshness of what's inside your head. Secondly, I'll introduce myself for those of you who may not know me. My name is Dr. Mari, I take care of the group therapy sessions here at the clinic. Would you please each introduce yourselves so that everyone can know each other's names? Oh, also share one interesting fact about yourself! A simple icebreaker to help keep the tension at bay." Dr. Mari motions to the girl sitting on her right, asking her to start wordlessly.

"I'm Hanuel and um, I-I like dogs?" The girl shrugs a bit after her introduction. Seeing her fidget in her seat, eyes wavering and not meeting anyone else's in the room, and the sheer expression of panic across her face as she introduces herself sends Jungkook's mind into a panic of its own. He grips the fabric of his sweatpants tight between his fingers, knuckles white from the force of his grip, and the rapidly accelerating drumming of his heartbeat in his ears begins to resound. His mind shuts down in that moment, blocking out sensory functioning and clouding all his judgement with the constant rhythm of panic in his body.

Before he can stop it, the anxiety attack washes over him like a tsunami. Cold, even colder than before, yet hot at the same time. His throat is burn, skin scalding around his neck, and he's almost certain that his face looks much like a tomato at this point. Jungkook knows what comes next. The distortion, the confusion, pain -- oh so much pain.

Idiot. Dumb fucking idiot. Why did you think it was a good idea to come here? You think you're normal compared to these people? No, look at you. Look at you barely functioning. Dumb fucking idiot. Worthless, I told you you were worthless.

Can't fucking kill yourself properly?

At least do it like you mean it, you worthless disappointment.

Jungkook sinks. The water plunges over him, filling his lungs and throat with black water that freezes his insides. He's thrashing, fighting to get out, but to no avail.

Jungkook has been here before. This is familiar. A hand closes around his throat, and he can no longer breathe. It's familiar.

Something wakes him up from the reverie, well someone to be more specific. A hand comes down on his thigh, and Jungkook jerks his whole body, finding the culprit staring at him with wide eyes. It's Seokjin. The fingers that close around his thigh simultaneously pull him from the depths of the black water in his mind. He nods twice. Jungkook takes the hint and glances around the room, seeing waiting expressions.

"Oh, uh, I'm Jeon Jungkook...the--the newest patient here."

Dr. Mari offers a soft smile, her eyes twinkling as she does. "We're so happy to have you here, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for coming." Jungkook nods a few times in response. He fights to gain control over his breathing again as the girl on his right introduces herself. Seokjin's grip gradually lessens until Jungkook doesn't feel the pressure of his touch any longer, and when he glances down to where the man's hand had just been, he swears the skin tingles with lingering warmth.

"We will open the discussion today as usual. Remember anyone can jump in and talk, there doesn't need to be any specific order, and you don't have to speak if you don't feel comfortable doing so. Hopefully it's helpful to some extent and encouraging to hear others open up in front of you. Now, how are each of feeling today?"

Silence meets Dr. Mari's question. A moment passes when each patient glances around the circle as though pleading another to speak up and make some sort of conversation, but no one does. Dr. Mari remains quiet and patient though, eyes soft as she glances over the patients before her.

"W-Well..." It's Eunbi who starts up the discussion, her voice quiet and hesitant. She doesn't continue her train of thought, at which point, Dr. Mari nods at her.

"Go ahead, dear."

"Well, I've been feeling down and distracted recently. Um, Miyeon might be leaving soon. I-I'm really happy that she is getting better and could leave shortly, but...and I know it's a selfish thought, but I don't want to see her leave. She's my best friend, and she's always been here for me. I don't know what it'll be like to not have her here. She--she helps keep everything in check, keeps all the pieces glued together, so I'm scared. I'm sc-scared about what might happen if she leaves." Dr. Mari hums as Eunbi finishes speaking.

"Does anyone have any advice or words for Eunbi?"

Taehyung doesn't hesitate. He leans forward, quick to offer some sort of reassurance with his words. "Jimin and I will always be here for you. Even if she does leave, we'll still be here." Eunbi smiles at Taehyung, not saying another word and instead shifting her gaze to the floor. Silence creeps into the circle once more. Dr. Mari waits a few moments before cutting the quiet with words of her own.

"Seokjin, you're being awfully quiet today. Is anything in particular on your mind?" Jungkook follows the doctor's gaze to Seokjin.

"No, it's just that I was up late last night talking with my roommate," he explains. "We were having a chat and it ended up being a lot longer than anticipated, so I went to bed very late."

"I understand, that's alright. Why don't you each tell me about one thing that made you happy this week? Seokjin, we'll start with you if you don't mind."

"That's perfectly fine. Um, I spent a lot of time in the library with Namjoon this week. I was able to make it through almost half of a book without getting detached. I remembered most of the content too, so I was happy to finally able to talk through things with Namjoon after reading the book. I haven't been able to do that in a long time."

Eunbi picks up after Seokjin, talking about something related to Miyeon, but Jungkook doesn't pay the words much attention. Dr. Mari's question lingers in his mind. What made you happy? Jungkook doesn't need to think for long because his answer is nothing. If there was anything that made him happy, it's been blocked out and erased by the bad memories. Nothing. It sounds too depressing in Jungkook's mind, and he's sure that if he were to admit that out loud, Dr. Mari would talk to the doctors about his condition. Maybe he'd get new pills, new therapy, more appointments, more and more pointless diagnoses that aren't entirely accurate simply because it's what works best for the system.

"And you, Jungkook?" Dr. Mari cuts through his thoughts.

Maybe it's best that way. Take more and more pills until you're a husk of a human being. Then they won't ask if you're happy.

"Nothing good happened to me this week," Jungkook says without looking up at the doctor. He expects to hear her sigh and click her tongue against the roof of her mouth as a show of disappointment. Neither sound comes.

"Did anything at all make you happy?" She inquires instead.

"No." Jungkook dares to glance up, finding Taehyung's eyes across the room, and the other man wears an expression of sadness for a moment.

"I understand," Dr. Mari says in a quiet voice. Her tone remains level and soft as she consoles him. "It can be tough to have a week like that. But know that things will get better. Whether it happens today, tomorrow, in three weeks or three years -- this will pass, and you will be better and stronger because of it. We're here to help along the way and support you when you don't feel like you can do it by yourself any longer. Now, I would like for you all to share one thing that made you upset this week. Jungkook, would it be alright if you started? You seem to have a lot on your mind, so I'd like to talk through that some if you don't mind." Jungkook's eyes flit over to the doctor. He expects to see the cold and retrained expression that always covers Dr. Martin's face, or the slight look of disdain from some of the nurses, but he sees neither. Rather, Dr. Mari blinks back at him with brows furrowed, gaze soft, and expression reading pure concern. Something about her expression eases Jungkook's mind.

"I'm not sure where to start."

"That's alright, you can just say whatever comes to mind first if you'd rather."

"I...I had a falling out with someone." Jungkook shifts in his seat, daring to look in Taehyung's direction. They meet eyes for a second, then Taehyung ducks his head and refuses to look at him any longer.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Jungkook debates it, considers telling the truth and being honest for once. Just once, he really wants to be honest. He wants to get it off his chest, be open, but to do it in front of these people? People he doesn't know well, some people he doesn't care to know and vice versa, people who could use this against him. Yet Dr. Mari's expression of interest and concern compels him to speak.

"We had a disagreement, and I didn't consider how my actions would affect him mentally or emotionally. I...it's selfish, but I don't want to be responsible for harming him or the relationships he has with others."

"Do you feel bitter at all? Towards that person?" Jungkook jerks his head to find the source of the question. Taehyung's eyes are on him once more, eyes wide, and teeth gnawing his lower lip now that he's put the question out in the air.

"No, not at all," Jungkook admits. Taehyung dips his head. "I just--well, I feel guilty, I guess, for hurting the other person. I wish I could explain that to him but it seems like he's avoiding me. I want a chance to ask for forgiveness, but I don't feel like I deserve it."

"Why would you think you don't deserve a chance for forgiveness?" Dr. Mari asks.

"It feels a bit like I've hurt him too much to be forgiven."

"Maybe...maybe the other person overreacted some because he didn't know how to handle the information," Taehyung speaks up again. "And maybe he isn't upset with you, but he said some hurtful things that shouldn't have been said."

"Taehyung is right. Communication is key, especially when it comes to disagreements. I encourage you to talk with the person again and maybe explaining the situation a bit more will help. That may also help you have better days and find more happiness in things." Jungkook nods along with Dr. Mari's words. "Thank you for sharing, Jungkook. Would anyone else like to share?"

"Um, I-I would," Taehyung pipes up again. He fidgets in his seat before speaking again, a small sniffle accompanying his movements. "I, uh, I called my mom earlier in the week. She said...she said my grandmother passed away. I-I don't know why, but she helped raise me and has always been there for me no matter what. I wish--I wish that I could have been there for her before this happened. It doesn't feel fair."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Taehyung. I understand how much she meant to you and how it must be very hard for you to handle while being at the clinic. It must be very hard for everyone here. It's hard to feel as though there is no way out, no way to see family and friends, and live your own life. Everything you do is under watch, someone is there with you, you're required to follow all these regulations and rules. While, yes, they are meant to help your betterment and assure safety, it must feel very suffocating at times. However, each of you has come to this place together, all suffering and struggling with similar things, and you are with each other at the same time for a reason. You should be a beacon of hope and a light at the end of the tunnel for each other. When something bad happens, rather than stepping away from each other, you should step towards one another. Be there for each other and treat this place as a new home. While it may be a temporary one, it is an important one. This is a place where you can have a new family, not a replacement per se, but a family full of people who know what you go through each and every day and understand how you feel.

"I understand each of you may have qualms with each other or with the staff here at the clinic. It can be hard to feel surrounded by people who seem not to care about you or want you to get better, but I assure you there are people who want to help here. Whether it be a doctor or a nurse or a patient, people want to see you be better and stronger, to return to your life outside the clinic.

"Everyone is at the clinic for a reason. Obviously you each know that, the patients are here for their specific reasons. The reason I came to the clinic, however, is because I wanted to make a difference and be a person who could help in some way. When I was your age, I didn't have anyone to rely on or go to when I struggled. For many years, I struggled alone, and it was the most terrifying experience of my life. I'm here to make sure that each of you don't have to feel that way, to give you an option, a choice to not be alone. I love seeing progress in each of you, and growth, but I adore seeing you grow and rely on each other to get better. Medication can only do so much. There has to be a change in the heart and in the mind in order to overcome your struggles. That is what I want to see as a doctor here. I want to see patients come together and help each other because we doctors and the nurses lack in many areas. You can do so much more for each other since you understand each other. Now, I will leave you all with that thought for the day. Thank you for coming, thank you to our newcomers, and you're free to leave now."

Jungkook moves to get up, but a hand clamps down on his leg, keeping him planted to the seat. He looks to the man on his left in confusion. Seokjin doesn't say a word, nor does he even spare Jungkook a glance, and he keeps staring forward at the floor in silence. Dr. Mari is the first to stand, followed by a few of the female patients, while Taehyung lingers in his seat as well. A few moments later, the room is empty except for Taehyung, Seokjin, and Jungkook. There doesn't seem to be any reasoning behind why they're lingering, and Jungkook can only blink between the other two in wonder. Taehyung won't take his eyes off Jungkook, lips slightly parted as though he's about to say something. Words never come.

A minute passes, then two, then three in silence. There's an itch under Jungkook's skin now, the anxiety crawling its way back into his system. Then, a creaking noise rises, and Taehyung stands up. He heads for the door without saying or doing anything, leaving Jungkook to wonder what the hell just happened. Once Taehyung is out of sight, Seokjin releases a deep breath.

"Did something happen between you and Taehyung?" He asks.

"No." The answer comes a bit too quickly, perhaps the lie is too transparent, and Seokjin can see straight through him. "Nothing happened. Everything's fine." Jungkook ought to stop talking, he's only digging the hole deeper at this point. He won't be able to drawl out of it once Seokjin catches on that it's a lie, but luckily enough, Seokjin makes a noise of approval.

"Sorry for bothering you. I just--it seemed--I most likely misread things. I make too many assumptions anyways, according to Yoongi at least."

"Ah, no! Don't worry, it's fine." Jungkook rushes to reassure the older man, and Seokjin smiles back in gratitude as he does. "Would it...be alright if I asked you a few questions actually?"

"Oh, me? That's fine. Ask away!" Seokjin grins at Jungkook, the lines around his mouth and nose scrunching up with the gesture.

"How long have you been at the clinic?"

"Hm, I think it's been about a year for me now. Might seem strange, since Namjoon, Yoongi, and Y/N have been here for a lot longer."

"How did you start talking with them then? Or become friends, I mean." Seokjin leans back in his chair, squinting at the ceiling.

"Well, Y/N was the person who showed me around the ward at the time. Back then, she was a lot less bright and happy." Jungkook does at double-take at the words.

"She doesn't seem bright or happy at all now," he scoffs.

"It used to be a lot worse. I have no clue why, but she was absolutely hellish back then. Even so, I found her interesting and I was grateful that she showed me around, so I kinda just pushed myself into her life. After I found out that Yoongi was my roommate, I thought it was sort of meant to be? That sounds odd and cliche, but that's the reason why I spent all my time with the two of them. Namjoon was obviously there as well, though at the time he didn't spend all of his time with us as he does now. Thinking back, it was hard dealing with both Yoongi and Y/N since they were both so hellish then, but Namjoon was good at placating it. Y/N and Yoongi would argue all the time, back and forth with no end whatsoever. Namjoon would just say "stop" and they would shut up. I don't understand it, even now that it's a lot better and way different than it used to be."

"What do you mean?"

"They care about each other -- Y/N and Yoongi that is -- but it's always seemed as though they have a really twisted way of showing it. I don't approve of it, but I'm not the person to tell them otherwise. It's not my place, first of all. Secondly, I can't do anything about it even if I wanted to. The only person who could have an actual impact would be Namjoon, although anytime I mention it to him, he shuts me down and refuses to talk about it." Seokjin's admission triggers something in Jungkook's mind, and he's taken back all the sudden to one of his previous conversations with Namjoon.

“Quit asking, Jungkook.”

“I’m so-sorry, I was just c—”

“I don’t want to talk about them so you shouldn’t bother.”

“Talk about Yoongi and Y/N?”

“Drop it now before I have to say it again.”

Now that he knows it's been a recurring pattern with Seokjin, Jungkook can't help but wonder what the cause is. Did something happen there for him to be so against talking about it?

"Eh, now that I think about it, I guess Y/N wasn't the absolute worst she could've been. When I first arrived, she really tried her best to help me and look after me in a way, even though I'm older than her. Over time though, she started helping me less and less. I think it's partly because I insisted that I was just fine helping myself. Maybe that's why she was cold to me for so long. Part of me feels guilty about having her help me, somewhat due to the fact that I'm older than here, but also because there isn't really anything wrong with me."

Jungkook blinks at Seokjin. ...isn't really anything wrong with him? But if that's true...why would he be here?

"I'm not sick or anything like that, so she didn't need to help me."

...Not sick?

"We argued about that at one point. I don't remember the exact content of the argument, but Namjoon took my side and of course Yoongi took hers. Things were tense for a little while after that but we cleared things up and talked through it. Turned out better in the end because now we're fine, and she knows that she doesn't have to help me anymore."

"Makes sense," Jungkook mumbles, more focused on the fact that Seokjin claimed to not be sick.

"Of course, she still tries from time to time," Seokjin continues as though Jungkook didn't say anything. "But it isn't as frequent as when she tries to help others like she does with Hoseok or Taehyung or even you."

"What?" Jungkook blanches at the mention of him. "She doesn't do that for me. She doesn't do anything like that at all, especially not compared to what she does for Taehyung or Hoseok."

"Oh, you can't see it?" Seokjin's eyebrows raise, and he swipes his tongue across his lower lip. "I know that she's trying her best to help, but it may not be obvious because of the kind of person she can be. She truly does care though, no matter what you might think. It's just--she, well, she has a tendency to believe that she can help others while keeping them at arm's length, even though that's almost impossible. Maybe that's what caused us to fight in the first place: we don't see eye  to eye on a lot of things. At the end of the day, we respect each other. That's the most important thing: mutual respect and care. As Dr. Mari said, being there for each other is valuable and I wouldn't want any sort of petty argument to get in the way of that."

"I suppose so. Well, no, that's right. That's 100% correct. Just...difficult, I guess."

"So can we talk about what's going on between you and Taehyung now?"

"Huh? W-What? Nothing happened, I don't--I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." Seokjin releases a small laugh. "Whatever happened between the two of you is somehow affecting Taehyung's relationship with Y/N." Jungkook's heart plummets. He noticed? How did he notice? Did other people notice too? "Listen, Jungkook. Taehyung is one of the most important things in Y/N's life, the other thing being Hoseok. She doesn't feel as though she has any purpose or value outside of that."

"I...I know that, but there isn't--there isn't anything I can do." Seokjin grabs hold of his forearm, pinching the skin with his rough grasp.

"I was up late talking with Yoongi last night, and we were talking about Y/N. She came to visit Yoongi while I was gone yesterday. I was helping clean up and take care of dishes after dinner so Yoongi was alone. I--they--" Seokjin cuts himself off before he can say any more. "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this. No, I'm sure it's fine. It's fine, I don't have to tell him everything." Jungkook leans away from the man, but Seokjin's grip only tightens around his arm. "Anyways, Y/N and Yoongi talked for a bit."

"You see, this is why we are better off not talking when we're together. Things that don't involve conversation always do more good for the two of us."

Jungkook narrows his eyes. "But...Y/N told me herself that they don't tend to talk when they're together." Seokjin's eyes grow wide, then he shakes his head.

"Uh, it's not my business to tell you the details of her relationship with Yoongi or to explain what the two of them do in their private time."

"P-Private time?" Seokjin presses his lips into a thin line. A second passes, then reality sinks in, and Jungkook suddenly understands what you meant when you said that. "Oh." Seokjin offers a weak yet understanding smile.

"Again, it's not my place to talk about that. But anyways, back to the topic at hand. Y/N had mentioned something to Yoongi about needing a distraction because Taehyung was acting strange and different. She apparently went to talk to him, and he flat out ignored her. She's scared that he's mad at her for not finding his bear sooner."

The black water laps at Jungkook's ankles. He's expecting another tsunami.

"Did Taehyung mention what happened between them or if it has something to do with whatever happened between the two of you?"

"No," Jungkook denies quickly. He tugs his arm out of Seokjin's grasp. "It's not my business to talk about that anyways." Seokjin purses his lips then opens his mouth to say something else. "I have to go." Jungkook stands up, excusing himself from the conversation before it goes any further. He doesn't want to know. He doesn't care to know about whatever is going on between you and Yoongi, or how hurt you are by Taehyung's behavior. It doesn't matter. It's not like I'm going to fucking stay at the clinic forever. Jungkook pushes his way out of the room, leaving Seokjin behind him, and doesn't care to look back and see whether the man decided to follow or not.

The black water is at his waist now, he feels the tug of the tide pulling and dragging him further in, and the cold black hand ready to close around his throat.

Your fault. Your fucking fault. Look what you did. You dirty fucking liar. You disappointment. Look at you. Can't do anything right, huh?

Jungkook stumbles on thin air.

Can't even kill yourself properly, can you?

Then all the sudden, he's on the floor, staring at the white ceiling with a dull throbbing in the back of his head.

"Jungkook!" It's not Seokjin's voice -- far too feminine for that -- but his mind is too swamped by black water to put a name to the voice.

"Y/N!" That's Seokjin, Jungkook recognizes it from having just heard it so much minutes ago. But that means, that it must have been you who yelled his name. For some reason, that realization causes the black hand around his throat to retract and sink back into the water, and the water recedes until it's lapping at his ankles again.

Hands find the collar of his white tee, pulling his shoulders up off the floor. Jungkook blinks a few times as your face appears before him. It stands out against the white of the ceiling, a blur to your features until Jungkook focuses his eyes again.

Then -- panic.

Oh god, is she mad at me? Does she know? She knows. Fuck, I'm screwed. She knows about the journal, about Taehyung, about everything. Fuck.

You smile.

Jungkook chokes on air.

"I found it, Jungkookie."

...

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! not a lot happened but at the same time a lot kinda happened?? i missed this story so so much and was so happy to return to writing it. i am excited to share more of this story with you guys, along with other projects that i have :3

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[artlessictoan]

*crawls out of the void to dump this and disappear again* so just a lil bday prezzie for my good ol pal @thecozycryptid... a day late. as is my usual mo. there’s still 10 mins of the day left it’s definitely not 2 days late. fuck. it was originally gonna be part of as longer story but i got a little over ambitious with it so here’s just one scene, still gonna work on the rest bc it’s a kanky bday thing but who knows when it’ll turn up kjdfhgsjhkdfg

anyway HOPE YOU ENJOY BUDDY!!

---

The sounds of grunting and cracking wood floating over the wall weren’t unusual, but Kankuro was in the middle of a very good book and they weren’t helping his concentration.

Scrambling up the wall separating the training area from the garden proper, he poked his head over and glared at the girl busy pummelling a training dummy into dust. “Yo, I just repaired those, you wanna slow down so they last more than a week this time?”

He was fully prepared for her to scream at him, so when she instead jumped half a foot in the air and spun around like she was expecting an attack, he raised a brow. Yodo didn’t calm down much when she saw it was only him, just gave him that look she had whenever she was stressing about something and didn’t know whether to dare ask for help, or just run away and pretend she was above the assistance of others.

Deciding that the book wasn’t quite that interesting, he pulled the rest of his body over the wall and dropped down on the other side. “You wanna talk?” he asked, not stepping any closer, so she didn’t feel pressured and clam up as a result.

There was a moment where she could’ve gone either way, but it only lasted a few seconds. “I think I’m sick,” she mumbled; if he weren’t a shinobi, he might not have heard her.

“Sick?” Clearly it wasn’t something minor like a cold – as tough as she liked to act, she tended to become a bit of a whiny brat when she knew she could get extra attention by playing up her illness – and he hadn’t noticed anything off about her the last few days. “What kind of sick?”

Resigned to opening up to him, her cool, rough façade dropped away and she stomped over to him, flopping down on the ground and answering with her most petulant whine, “I don’t know! I was fine until I went to Konoha last week, but now I keep feelin’ really weird and hot and tingly at random times, you think I caught something while I was there?”

Ok, so she probably wasn’t that worried, the tension in his shoulders dropped a notch as he sat down next to her. “Maybe, when exactly did this start?”

“Right after I met up with Chouchou, I kinda ignored it at first ‘cause I was so excited to see her again, but it wouldn’t go away whenever we were hanging out, it sorta stopped when I got back home but now I get all sweaty and uncomfortable for no reason and I can’t figure out what’s wrong.”

“That doesn’t sound like any illness I’ve ever heard of, you sure there’s no common link, like after you’ve eaten something specific? Could be an allergy or something.”

Her face screwed up as she wracked her brain for clues, meanwhile Kankuro gave her a brief visual examination himself. She didn’t look particularly unwell, a little on the thin side but she’d always been skin and bones – several doctors had assured Gaara that it was just a result of childhood malnutrition and as long as she was eating healthily now then it was nothing to worry about – and her face was a little flushed but that could very easily just be a result of her working herself up about the whole thing.

“I think… I guess I notice it most when I’m thinking about Chouchou?” She frowned. “Kinda weird, maybe it’s just ‘cause she reminds me of Konoha which is where I first felt sick? Actually, now I’m feeling weird again, do you think she made me sick?”

The urge to slap his own face was overwhelming, but he fought through it and carefully packed away his repressed laughter deep inside, to be released later on when she was less likely to punch him for it. “Yeah, I’ve heard about this before…” He turned to fully face her, placing a comforting hand gently on her shoulder, before continuing, “I’m sorry, but the symptoms are clear, I have to diagnose you with Lovestruck Idiotitis.”

She stared blankly at him.

This time he really couldn’t hold back a snort at her painful obliviousness. “You’ve got a crush on Chouchou, kiddo.”

“Wha- no. No. I don’t- No!”

“Ok, so the feeling hot and tingly, does that get worse when you think of her? Have you been paying more attention to her appearance lately? Do you think about her more than you used to? Look for excuses to touch her?” The stunned silence and gaping mouth basically answered his questions. “Yeah, that’s what we call a crush.”

He let her have a few moments to come to terms with the crushing reality of his statement, but Yodo wouldn’t be Yodo if she didn’t fight against every uphill battle she came across.

“But that can’t be it, I’ve never had a crush on anyone before and I’ve known her for years without… feeling like this.”

“Feelings don’t happen on a schedule Yodo,” he said, dropping an arm across her shoulders and pulling her into a light hug, “you’re probably just a late bloomer, not that unusual.” He himself remembered not having much interest in relationships until he was well past twenty. Admittedly he’d had other, bigger things to be worrying about before that, like a family on the verge of collapse and a shinobi war or two, but he still remembered how it felt the first time he realised he had feelings for someone.

Pretending not to notice the very soft sniffling, he let Yodo duck out of his grip with the same performative disgust she always levelled at his attempts at comforting. “I… you’re probably right.”

“Always am.”

She scoffed and threw a wad of sand at him, he snickered and threw one back, and all was right with the world again.

“Frick, I dunno what to do now, how do I tell her? I ain’t gonna be able to hide it if I turn into a blushy mess every time I see her.”

Kankuro had seen the way that Chouchou had been looking at her best friend for many years now. “Yeah, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, just be yourself.” She clearly already liked Yodo as she was anyway, no need to mess with a winning formula.

Apparently Yodo wasn’t only oblivious to her own feelings however. “No way, I’ve gotta try and win her over somehow, be really suave an’ cool or something.”

“I can help with that,” Kankuro said, a beautiful idea blooming in his head, “just give me full control of your hair and wardrobe for a day, oh and let me puppet you around too, I can make you a queen of dance.”

Another spray of sand slapped against his face. “Forget it, I’m going to ask papa for advice instead!”

Spirits help her, if she did that she really would be doomed.

She was already charging off, leaping to his feet, he chased after her, desperately screaming all the way, “Woah, woah, woah, I was just kidding! Please don’t ask Gaara he has negative amounts of game!”

---

[mss4msu]

“Do I Wanna Know?” (Chapter 5)

Summary: On a visit to a local nightclub, the lounge singer catches your eye. Soon becoming a regular at the club, the way you look on the dancefloor gets his attention. You begin to hear stories about the notorious crime lord who owns and operates the small nightclub. When your friends worry that you’ve gotten mixed up with a mobster, you wonder if it’s better to be left in the dark and find yourself asking, “Do I wanna know?” if you’re getting involved with one of the most revered mobsters in the city. 

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Words: 2467

Warnings: Language

A/N: It has been a HOT second since I wrote a new chapter for this fic. I started writing this, and the next day there was a huge flux in readers on this piece, so I’ve forced my not so little butt to get a chapter written and out to you all. There’s a Sex and the City “I couldn’t help but wonder” in here that I couldn’t help but include bc I’ve been binging the show now that I’m a single gal living it up in a big city.

Catch Up On the Series Here

You awoke the next morning daydreaming about the night before. Rachel and Jess had pulled you to the dance floor during The White Wolf and the Howlers’ last song and you danced your heart out, putting on a show, knowing James was watching your every move. After the band finished, the club patrons left, but Steve had stopped you and your friends before you could go, telling you there was a special encore performance just for you. In an almost empty club, the curtains reopened to show the band again. James serenaded you with a song called, I Wanna Be Yours.” Halfway through the song he jumped off the stage and started dancing you around the nightclub, singing the lyrics quietly in your ear as the band kept playing. Out of the corner of your eye you had seen Jess dancing with Steve, but you were too enthralled with James to bother to give them your full attention. 

You danced around your apartment for the rest of the weekend, reliving everything that had happened in your own mind and through your group chat with Jess and Rachel. You knew they were probably tired of talking about everything, but you just couldn’t help it. Saturday was spent analyzing everything that had happened the night before, from the quick seating and service your table had gotten to the song choices of James and his band. Sunday was spent over-analyzing everything and wondering why you had heard nothing from James all weekend. By Sunday night, you were actually disappointed that you hadn’t been called into work over the weekend and were actually beginning to look forward to going into work on Monday, because at least being busy doing painstaking tasks for Tony Stark meant you wouldn’t have any brain space left over to worry about James Barnes.  

You hopped on the bus Monday morning and got to work earlier than usual, hoping that there would be something for you to do and focus on as soon as you got there. Despite being early, you still hadn’t beaten Tony, who barked your name as you were walking past his office to your own desk.  

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” you asked, poking your head into his office. 

“Get in here and sit down,” he snapped, gesturing at the chair across from his desk. 

You felt anxiety building in you as you went into his office, there was something different about how Tony was talking to you and you didn’t like it.

“You’ve been working hard, Ms. (Y/L/N) and that hard work has not gone unnoticed,” Tony said dryly. 

Although he was looking toward you, his eyes seemed to be scanning, as though he was reading notes on his glasses. 

“In order to reward this work,” he paused, before begrudgingly continuing, “I,” he put a strange emphasis on the word, “would like to offer you a promotion to head an account of your own. This of course means a raise in pay, an office, and you will have access to your own driver whenever you wish.”

You were stunned and sat speechless for a moment before finally asking, “Really?”

“Do you not want the promotion?” Tony asked snarkily. 

“No, I mean, yes I would love one and thank you so much for the offer,” you took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, “Which account will I be working on?”

“The Barnes account,” you could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes as he said it.

You had never felt your heart sink and your stomach experience butterflies at the same time, but knowing you would be working more personally with James Barnes had you feeling all sorts of ways all at once.

“Is that suitable?” Tony asked, annoyance in his voice. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark, that is beyond suitable. Thank you so much for the opportunity! I will not disappoint you.”

“Unfortunately, it isn’t me you have to worry about disappointing,” he rolled his eyes as he stood and reached out his hand to shake yours.

While you shook Tony’s hand enthusiastically, you couldn’t help but wonder who it was unfortunate for.

Tony broke off the handshake, flopped back into his chair, and grunted for you to leave. You took the hint and walked toward the door. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Stark,” you said as you walked out of his office.

Once back in the lobby, before you could even process your shock, the person at the front desk called you over and gave you the keys to your new office, the number for your personal driver, your new company credit card, and a giant stack of file folders concerning the Barnes account. You walked very carefully to your new office, trying your best not to drop any of the folders in your arms. As you tried to get the key in the lock while positioning the folders on your knee and balancing on one leg trying to hold them steady, the familiarity of the gruff voice behind you asking, “Need some help, doll?” caused you to drop everything. 

Papers went flying in all directions and you scrambled to the floor to gather them up. 

“Guess you do,” James Barnes winked at you as he began to help you pick everything you had dropped. 

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling the heat from your embarrassment creeping into your cheeks.

“I can’t help but feel that it was my fault you dropped them in the first place,” he smirked at you as he handed you the last few pieces of paper and stood up. 

“It was entirely your fault,” you smiled back at him, accepting his hand to help you up. 

“So, this is a snazzy new office, ya got here,” James said as he picked up your discarded keys from the ground, opened the door, and flicked on the lights. 

“How’d you know I got a new office?” you asked, unable to help the suspicion that crept into your voice.

“Your name’s on the door, doll,” he chuckled, tapping the nameplate next to the door that read your name in bold letters. 

“Oh,” you replied, taken aback. 

You picked up the stack of files from the ground and followed James into your new office. He flopped down in the chair in front of the desk and you knew his eyes were following you as you went to the chair behind it, although you couldn’t see him over the stack of folders in your arms. You set the folders down and relaxed into your new chair. 

James slid the folders to the side of your desk so he could look you in the eyes, “That’s better. So, shall we go grab lunch?” 

“Lunch? I can’t, James, I’ve just started this new position and I have to work or Mr. Stark will demote me.”

“(Y/N), I am your client and I want to go out to lunch. And now that we are working together in a professional capacity, that’s Mr. Barnes to you,” he winked at you as he stood up and buttoned his suit coat.

“Well, in that case, how could I say no?” you rose, grabbed your new credit card, and walked around the desk to meet him. 

“Where to?” James asked, walking out of your office and waiting for you in the hall.

“As my client, I’ll let you decide,” you replied, closing and locking the door. 

“I know a great spot. Should I call my driver, or would you like to test yours out?”

“I suppose I could give mine a test drive,” you smiled, pulling the card with the driver’s info from your pocket. “Hello, I’d like a ride to lunch, please,” you said in your most professional tone, “Great, thanks.”

You hung up the phone and smiled at James, “The car will be here in 2 minutes, so we better get downstairs.”

“Lead the way, boss,” James gestured for you to go in front of him.

“I could get used to that title,” you laughed as you got to the elevator and pushed the down button.

A booming voice yelling, “Where do you think you’re going??” wiped the smile right off of your face.

You quickly spun around to see Tony Stark angrily staring at you, his foot impatiently tapping on the ground.

“Stark, hope you don’t mind the unscheduled drop by, but I figured I should get acquainted with the new handler of my account,” James said, walking up to Tony with his arm outstretched, ready to shake his hand.

“Mr. Barnes,” Tony said through gritted teeth, reluctantly shaking his hand, “Makes perfect sense. I actually have no plans for lunch today, I should join you both to be sure (Y/N) can be brought up to speed with everything.”

“Tony, I hardly think that is necessary. She wouldn’t have been put on my account if she wasn’t competent enough,” James turned and gave you a quick wink, which had you wondering if it really was your competency that had gotten you the promotion.

“In any case, I doubt she has had the time to read through all of the files about your relationship with the company as of yet, and as such, I should be present at this lunch to be sure nothing is missed. Shall we?” Tony asked, taking his briefcase from the reception desk and meeting you at the elevator.

The elevator dinged before you had a chance to comment on the change of plans and Tony was in the elevator too quickly for a change of plans. As Tony was briefly occupied pressing the button to go downstairs, James gave you an annoyed look and you shrugged in reply. The elevator arrived in the lobby and you all approached the car waiting outside.

“Ms. (Y/N), I didn’t realize there would be 3, is this car still ok?” your driver asked as he rolled down his window.

“It’s fine, Parker,” Tony replied for you, “After you, Mr. Barnes,” he said, motioning for James to get in the backseat. 

James complied and Tony got in next to him, leaving you to take the front seat.

“Where to, Mr. Stark?” the driver asked.

“That Italian place on Broadway and North Ave,” Tony said before you or James could make a recommendation.

“You got it, sir.”

The car pulled away from the office and everyone inside of it sat in silence for the entire drive. You tried to keep your breathing steady and stop from getting worked up, which you had multiple reasons to be: you got a promotion that you were pretty sure James Barnes had made happen for you, that same man had tried to take you out for a one-on-one lunch, and now you were in a car with the man you liked and your boss.

The trip to the restaurant felt like it took hours, when it had only really taken minutes. When the car stopped in front of the restaurant, James quickly exited and opened your door for you, offering his hand to help you out of the car. You declined to take his hand, as you felt Tony’s eyes on you. Tony led the way into the restaurant and quickly got the three of you a table. When James tried to sit next to you, Tony side-stepped him so that he had to sit across from you. 

Lunch proceeded to be even more uncomfortable than you could ever have imagined. Tony acted as though you weren’t there and conducted business as usual. To every question Tony asked, James directed his answer to you, trying to give you an in to the conversation, but Tony would reply before you even had a chance to think about what James had said. It was excrutiating, and you were thankful that James seemed to view it as torture just as much as you did, as he quickly sped the waiter along in bringing your food quickly and getting the check as soon as possible. 

“James, should we drop you somewhere or do you need to go back to the office?” Tony asked as the three of you went out to the parking lot and got into the car that was waiting for you.

“If it’s not too much trouble, could you drop me off at my club?”

“Parker, you know where that is, right?” Tony asked the driver. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Your heart sank at the prospect of having to ride in the car alone with Tony after such an awkward meeting, but you had no way of communicating that with James from the front seat. 

As the car slowed, James spoke, “Thank you for lunch, Tony. It was great to be able to discuss the future of our collaboration with the new head of my account,” he stuck his hand through the gap between the two chairs in the front of the car, “(Y/N), it’s going to be a pleasure working with you.”

You contorted yourself to be able to shake his hand. 

“We’ll be in touch with updates about your account,” Tony said. 

“Looking forward to it,” James replied as he got out of the car. He shut the door behind him and then gave you a little wave.

“Alright, back to the office, Parker. And (Y/N), I hope you learned valuable negotiating techniques over lunch. Mr. Barnes is a big client and we can’t afford to lose him.”

“Yes, sir,” was all you could think to reply. 

The ride back to the office was in silence, but it was less awkward than you anticipated. As the car slowed in front of the building, Tony broke the silence.

“(Y/N), we’ll drop you off here, I have other business to attend to elsewhere.”

“Alright, Mr. Stark. Thank you, Mr. Parker,” you said before somewhat hurriedly getting out of the car. 

Once you were in the elevator and out of sight of Tony Stark, you finally let out a long sigh of relief. You reached your floor and took a deep breath before disembarking the elevator. As you walked past the front desk, the receptionist called you over. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N)! These just came for you!” the receptionist said, pulling a vase of two dozen white roses from behind the desk. 

“Oh my god! Thank you!” You exclaimed, completely flustered. 

“You’re welcome.”

Your cheeks hurt from grinning as you quickly walked the flowers to your office to read the card you saw perched on top of them. You set the vase down to unlock your office, learning from your earlier mistakes, and went inside and closed the door. You put the vase on your desk and removed the card from its holder, carefully opening the envelope it was in. 

The card read: “Looking forward to working with you, boss. Yours, The White Wolf.”

CHAPTER SIX

Do I Wanna Know? Tag List:

@mrooks0205 @shann-the-artist-moon @ashtheteenagewitch @abschaffer2 @nuclearuniversalrage @nootrishus @brilliantbellesoares 

Bucky Barnes Tag List:

@basementcafe @ria132love @courtmr @jobean12-blog @gloomyleaves

Permanent Tag List:

@sophiealiice @mrsdeanwinchester19 @thisismysecrethappyplace @ailynalonso15 @221bshrlocked @hazellnut94 @libbymouse @nerdypinupcrystal @hufflepuffchloe @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @dibsonamericasass

[croatian-nt]

Catch me if I fall

Getting hit in the face was definitely not Tin's favorite part of playing the game. No matter how many times he got blows in the head, it hurt. 

Thankfully in his memo of WWDD, or what would Domo do, getting up after a blow in the head was a given. 

So he did, with Bruno and Ante checking if he was alright, but Tin barely acknowledged them. Niksi was staring at him, a bit further away, but Tin felt his gaze as a physical touch. 

It made him nervous and he pushed flashbacks of the last time he looked at him like that. Now wasn't the time. He nodded to Niksi to signal he was alright, and the game continued. 

Tin didn't think about it again until Nikica scored his goal and he ran to hug him, and surprisingly, got to him first, tackling him in the hug. 

It was such a natural reaction and they of course, tumbled to the floor, with Niksi laughing. It made Tin join him, and for a split second their eyes met, and they must have made quite a picture.

Two idiots laughing while laying on the grass and locking eyes. And then the rest of the team joined them, and the moment was over. 

The game went on and Tin tried not to get distracted till the end. Tin couldn't afford getting distracted, especially not over a simple kiss. 

So when the game ended, he pushed away the urge to run to Niksi and celebrate with him, instead he went to Domo and acted like nothing changed. Like there wasn't a gaze of two bright blue eyes burning into his back.

It was much, much later, after a lot of alcohol has been consumed that Tin's urge to meet Nikola's eyes became unberable. 

He was beautiful, there was no way around it. With his head thrown back and laughing at something Perišić said, he had some kind of magnetic pull that just made you look at him. It made Tin long for things he couldn't have.

As if he felt his eyes of him Nikola turned his head and locked their eyes, as if daring Tin to approach him. Tin's heart sped up and his tipsy brain tried to catch up with his conflicted feelings that rooted him to the spot. 

He could just walk over to him and pretend he was congratulating him on the goal, talk about the game and unsuspiciously slide his arm around his shoulders while walking. It wouldn't look weird to anyone. 

But Tin also knew he could slip up and do something people would find weird. He didn't trust himself not to reach for him in his current state. He was still high on adrenaline and while his tolerance improved, it was never a great idea to drink alongside Domo.

So he forced his eyes away from Niksi's and turned, quietly slipping away. He needed to be alone and sober up a bit, and nobody will probably notice he was gone for a while.

He ended up climbing on the roof of a house near the hotel, and since everyone was already asleep, he probably wasn't going to disturb whoever lived there.

And then he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lighted one up. Tin knew it was a bad habit, but he rarely ever smoked now, but sometimes it was just the fastest way to calm himself down. He closed his eyes and let the silence wash over him, trying to sort out his thoughts.

"Didn't know you smoked," A voice behind him said, jerking Tin from his peace.

It was unexpected and Tin flinched, almost losing his footing and falling of the roof, if it wasn't for a steady arm that grabbed his.

"Easy. It wouldn't do you any good to break a bone right now. We still have one game to play," Niksi said, smirking down at Tin.

It made Tin scramble back so they were at equal footing, where he was obviously taller. It gave him a false feeling of safety, as if the fact that he was towering over Niksi would make him more likely to resist him. 

Being so close to him, under his direct gaze, never failed to make Tin into a stuttering mess. He took another drag of his cigarette, and cringed when there was slight tremor in his hand, which Nikola had to see.

"I don't usually, but it fits the moment, I suppose."

Nikola chucked at Tin's statement, inching closer. Tin was aware of how little space was between them, aware of the cold air between their warm bodies and it made him ache to close that distance.

"Fits the moment? I didn't realize such a big win required the need to calm yourself down. Unless, of course, there isn't something else on your mind."

Fucker. He was smirking just slightly, knowing Tin couldn't stop thinking about that kiss after the last game. And they never talked about it after and Tin was too much of a coward to bring it up himself. But hell if he gave Nikola the satisfaction of playong him like the flute.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"No?", Niksi leaned in softly tracing Tin's jawling with his thumb, "You might want to put out your cigarette."

Tin gulped, electricity flowing through his skin from where Nikola touched him and spreading through his body.

"And why would I do that?" 

"Because," Niksi said, taking away his cigarette and taking a drag from it, "if you don't, I might change my mind about kissing you again."

Tin doesn't think he ever put out the cigarette faster once Nikola returned it.

Niksi chuckled, leaning in so they were barely a breath apart.

"You are too easy," He whispered before closing the distance.

Tin melts into the kiss and Nikola taste of nicotine and champagne. Tin curses his idea to go on a rooftop because if they were anywhere else he would pull him in his lap. Nikola tugs at his hair tie and tangles his fingers in Tin's hair. 

He knows he should probably be concerned about what Nikola did with his hair tie and how close they are inching towards the edge of the rooftop but he doesn't. For a few moments, he lets himself not think about anything.

But when Nikola pulls away, all of his worries and insecurities come crashing back, so Tin drops his head on Nikola's shoulder, so he doesn't have to face then just yet. 

"What's wrong?" 

Nikola's voice is gentle and he is playing with Tin's hair, not hurrying him to answer.

"I don't want this to be just another post game kiss you'll forget, that's all."

Nikola's fingers freeze in his hair for a moment, and Tin is sure he should have bitten his tongue before speaking the truth. Especially when Nikola moves away and raises his chin so he can look at him.

"Is that what you think this is? Only a celebration kisd because of the adrenaline?" 

Tin grimances, pulling back from Niksi's grasp. He didn't like him avoiding it with a question.

"If it wasn't, then why did you never mention it after?" 

Niksi frowns, looks like he will reach out for Tin again, but doesn't. 

"You barely looked at me the next day. I thought you regretted it until I saw the way you acted around me today. You weren't angry, you were embarrassed." 

Tin felt his cheeks heating up at that again and he cursed his inability to keep a straight face. He buried his face in his hands. 

Nikolacput his hands over his and gently pried them away and Tin found himself once again locked up in his impossibly blue gaze. 

"It was almost as if you were never kissed by another man before and, almost as a teenager you had no idea what to do."

Nikola was still holding his hands and as he said that, he interviewed them. Tin was trapped, but he wasn't so sure he wanted to run away anymore.

"Probably because I wasn't, and I didn't know wht to do. I still don't," Tin confessed, earning a quick kiss from Nikola.

"Relax. Try not to overthink it, and don't run away tomorrow so we can talk when we are sober, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And this time it was Tin who kissed Nikola, and perhaps leaned in a bit too much bc Nikola had to pull away to steady him again.

"Please try not to fall and die while kissing me."

Tin laughed and quickly kissed him again.

"I'll try. But I see I don't need to worry since you'll catch me if I fall."

Nikola rolled his eyes.

"Don't test it too much, I am not a goalie."

And what more than that could he ask for? Whatever happened tomorrow, both of them could only promise to try, and that would be enough. Enough for a start, and for a middle and end, they'll find a way.

Tin grinned

"I'll keep that in mind," He said and kissed Nikola again.

[habibialkaysani]

okay so. a lot has been going on lately and I haven't had much time to be on here or time in general. now that the week is over tho things are starting to die down hopefully. and like I do with work emails I'm gonna just write a list, of all the things that have been going on, because I feel like my brain is about to explode otherwise.

lots of rambling, potentially triggering stuff under the cut:

1) pain. so much pain. I thought I'd moved past this endo thing, or at least that the pain was contained because of the meds the gyno gave me plus the progesterone that was definitely easing the pain for a bit during the month. but the ones my gyno gave me, they can only be taken during my period and mine isn't starting. so I've been in agony, like in so much pain, and the only relief has been a hot water bottle and codeine. and I don't want to take more days off when I've already taken sick days this year - which is not like me, at all. but potentially that might not be an issue for a while if I end up having to work from home. and in terms of addressing the root cause of the problem, that's unlikely, because the mri I had of my pelvis came back normal. no indications of endometriosis which I expected because this shit doesn't show on ultrasounds or mris. I do think there might be a chance it shows on a transvaginal ultrasound but they outright refuse to do that which really fucking pisses me off bc it's on the basis of me never being laid before which as I've mentioned is ridiculous.

2) speaking of. this motherfucking coronavirus is doing my head in. seriously i had to order hand sanitiser for the office and it still hasn't arrived. I did manage to get a few masks but god those were expensive. and just generally it's all anyone will talk about at work which is driving me nuts. and what makes it worse is that I'm going out of my mind thinking about speedy and if she gets it, because she's got a heart condition and her immune system isn't very strong even for regular flu. this shit will hit her hard and I'm terrified of that esp after hearing boris fucking johnson saying in his speech that people are going to lose loved ones. I don't know what I'll do if I lose her. actually I have an idea and it would not be good. I spoke to my brother who is a healthcare professional and he said that it's best to get in touch with the cardiology team that look after speedy to see if we can do anything preventative or get her tested.

3) in better news, my brother just announced to our family that he's getting married. already its causing arguments and his fiancee comes from a more well off family (the bar is low tho admittedly) so we're all gonna be scrambling to get our tiny house somewhat in shape for when my bro's future in laws visit in a couple weeks. but it's still good news I think because my bro is smitten and that's just nice to see. his fiancee makes him happy and that's something I'm really glad he found. they want a small wedding too so hopefully we'll have like 200 guests max, which would be sacrilege in any desi household lol.

4) I've been looking for a new job for a while now. things at work have been tough, ever since my old manager gave in her notice. I don't mind my current manager all that much, but she's in hr, and she's clearly never managed anyone before because she is nowhere near as good a support system as my old manager. I could go to my old manager and complain about something and she'd listen, and she actively made an effort to monitor my workload. this new one, she just doesn't put the same effort in and she also just doesn't understand the role I'm in either. she seems to think the job I do is easy and straightforward when it is neither, on the basis that she thinks admin is something anyone could do, and she does nothing to try and ease things when my workload gets heavy. plus my managers manager who is also in hr is just really not nice. she enjoys a power trip way too much. that and the fat cats that are our clients - well suffice it to say I think my time here is up. so I've been looking and I found a nonprofit that was hiring. I did my first interview with them and it went surprisingly well. and now I've got my second one next friday. I really hope that goes well too and that I get the job, just so I can see the look on my managers managers face when I give in my notice 😂 and this new job if I get it would be five fewer hours and I think that could do wonders for my wellbeing. and my sanity.

5) writing. I've done none of it. it's a problem. I don't know what to do to make my mojo come back because I write the best when I'm alone, and I'm never on my own nowadays unless I'm in bed in pain, in which case writing is the last thing I feel like doing. but I also really want to write. so badly. I feel like I'm emotionally more stable when I'm writing. I'm happier. and I just do not have that right now which is not fun.

6) reading - now this is something I have done. my dear friend reen recommended a series of books called reluctant royals, by alyssa cole, and omg. they are so good. I powered through three big novels and two novellas. like I devoured them. and I'm being reminded of how much I love books. good ones. they made me laugh a lot and I'm really glad my friend recommended them.

7) speaking of devouring. a few weeks ago I found on several occasions that people were offering their seats to me on public transport, presumably because they thought I was pregnant. it was this combined with my doctor admitting my bmi wasn't normal (tho only when I asked if this might be causing the pain) that made me realise that I needed to lose weight drastically, and to eat better and walk more. so I've been eating more veggies and salad. trying to put more greens on my plate. not have fast food as often. in all honesty I'm not sure how much of a difference its actually made, but I do know that I feel a little better having done so over the last few weeks. my brother also said I looked like I had lost weight. I've also noticed it a little in my tummy going in a bit too. but I also know that this is a rabbit hole I don't want to go down too far. I worry I might have already with the weighing which I've been doing far too often now that there's scales at work (for weighing big packages). I don't want this to spiral out of control. but I think I've done okay so far, minus the weighing thing - I've always eaten when I've felt hungry so it's not like I'm starving myself. and so far I've only lost about 3kg. which I feel is significant but also nowhere near enough when it comes to the nhs bmi calculator.

8) my little brother has been acting up for months now, and tbh it's starting to give me anxiety. my mother found weed in his room and he's just been rebelling in what I see as normal teenage ways like smoking and staying out late, but it's also affecting his school and I'm worried he won't leave with decent a levels bc he already failed once. and his school keeps emailing my dad about him supposedly being absent, and my dad's response to this for about two months now has been to post a screenshot of each email into the family group chat and demand where my bro has been. it doesn't help. and I don't need to be notified every time he skips school or whatever like that is not my fucking problem to have to see when I'm at work and have enough stresses as it is. my dad is an idiot and honestly some days I would dearly love to punch the man in the face.

9) I start my group therapy in a couple weeks. it’s for generalised anxiety and I am really, really hoping it will help me because the other group therapy I’ve done previously, like a couple months back, has proven to be really helpful. here’s hoping.

10) if anyone is still reading this far - I realise this sounds a lot like I'm feeling sorry for myself. maybe I am to some degree. but my life is just a lot right now and I'm genuinely a bit shocked I'm still in one piece and that I haven't had a nervous breakdown yet. everything is a lot and I feel like I'm going through a lot of change. that's hard. but I'm trying my best to get through this and I hope somehow I can. I actually left tumblr for a bit because for various reasons I didn’t feel as safe talking about my problems on here, through no fault but my own really. I’m hoping I’ve moved past that now.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you own any tie-dye clothing? Yeah, I have a few tie-dye shirts.  Can you sew? Nope. How much soda do you drink in a week? I only drink some soda to take my medicine with (I have to crush my pills and soda helps make the taste bearable). I get like a 6 pack of the 16oz bottles and 1 bottle will last me like a week. I used to drink a can or one of those 16 oz bottles a day for years until a couple years ago. Do you like being asked questions? In surveys, ha.  Are you nosy? I can be.

How well can you pay attention to someone talking? I mean, when it came to listening to a professor or something talking I’d try and pay attention, but I often zoned in and out. My mind would start to wander. If I’m having a conversation with someone, I give them my attention. If they’re telling a long story or venting about something for awhile it can get overwhelming, though. Are you/were you good in school? I did well in school. What is the closest yellow thing to you? There’s some yellow beads in my big container of beads. Where do you like to shop at the most? I shop a lot online at Boxlunch, Hot Topic, Kohl’s, and Amazon. Do you dream a lot? Yeah, but I rarely remember them. Are you a fast texter? Not as fast as I am at typing on the computer.  What does beauty mean to you? Uhhh. How many close friends do you have? I have my family. What is your favorite food? Scrambled eggs with cheese and spinach, breakfast burritos, bologna sandwiches, ramen, pizza, potatoes in various forms... Have you ever moved to a different state? No. Can you do long division in your head?  No. How long can you hold your breath for? Not that long. Do you have a wide imagination? My mind does go to some weird, random places. What is your favorite movie? I have a lot. Do you have any pets? Yes, I have a doggo named Princess Leia. (: Would you mind living on a farm? I wouldn’t want to live on a farm. Are you a patient person? No. Do you enjoy watching horror films? I do. I’ve become a big fan over the past few years. I used to be a big scardy cat about them, but now I love ‘em. Do you always keep your promises? * I dont normally make promises bc I dont like putting that kind of pressure on myself, but if I say Im going to do something then u can generally consider it done <<< Yeah, that’s pretty much how I am. I’ll usually just say, “I’ll try” unless I really don’t think I’ll do it or the odds are pretty slim.  Is it hard for you to be honest with yourself? I think I’m pretty honest with myself. Although, there’s some things that I don’t know if they’re how I really feel or think, or if it’s my depressed brain making me thinking and feel those things. It’s very convincing. What do you think your friends say about you when you aren’t around? I’m sure my former friends had a lot of bad things to say about me because of what happened these past few years and I don’t blame them for it. Are you a lover or a fighter? I’m a non-confrontationer, ha. I don’t want to start any drama. Can you cut your own hair? I used to trim my own bangs when I had ‘em. What annoys you the most about people? People can be very frustrating. I know I am. Would you rather own a desktop or a laptop? I love my laptop. Have you ever kissed anyone whose name starts with an H? No. Can you count to 1000 backwards? I mean yeah, but I wouldn’t get very far cause I would lose interest in that real quick. Have you ever been to Niagara Falls? No. Do you enjoy going to the beach? I love going to the beach. How fast can you type? Fast. What did you do today? I’ve only been awake for an hour and so far I’ve just taken my medicine, made coffee, read my daily devotional, and now I’m doing surveys. Where is your dream vacation at? I have a few dream vacations. Does your computer freeze a lot? No. What are you afraid of the most? Losing my loved ones, never getting better/getting worse, never doing anything with my life and just wasting away. What do you waste your money on the most? I buy a lot of graphic tees, but I love ‘em.

[jjkfire]

Sweet Saccharine; pt. 2

Reader x Jungkook // sugardaddy!AU // 11k words

Summary: Trying your best to stay afloat in a ruthless city, you decide to join the sugar bowl. Who knew the sugar baby business would be this exciting?

Genre: Fluff?

Part 1 // Part 3

A/N: bro it’s been months since the first chapter and I am so sorry like lmao does anyone even remember that this fic exists??? anyway told myself to keep the fic simple but my brain was like uhhh heck no 

Previously...

Oh, if only Jungkook knew what he was getting himself into, if only he knew who you really were. He would’ve avoided you like the plague, he would’ve been running for the hills, anything to get as far away as possible from you. It was in this person’s favour however that Jungkook didn’t. An evil smile graces the lips of the dark figure, dressed in all black.

So begins the takedown of Jeon Jungkook.

So begins the end of Jeon Logistics.

Now

So, what are both you and Jungkook doing in the middle of a long, empty, straight road, one would ask? The answer would be Jungkook has no fucking clue.

“Do you trust me?”

“No… not really,” Jungkook gulps as he looks over at you in the driver’s seat.

“Aw, come on,” You laugh. “Live a little why don’t you?” You turn to him to raise an eyebrow, an evil smirk on your lips.

He hears you rev up the car engine, its signature roar resounding in his ears and usually he loves the sound but right here, right now, he’s not so sure. What he knows though is that letting you take the wheel was a horrible, horrible idea.

Earlier

[02:28] You: Hey friend saw you in a magazine today [02:28] You: Image sent

Jungkook’s fingers scramble to swipe at his phone to open up the message. He breathes out a sigh of relief to see that the magazine had chosen a rather flattering photo of him standing next to Yoongi and Taehyung, his two closest friends.

The three of them grew up basically attached to each other considering that their grandfathers were best friends who had all established their own logistics company around the same time, building it from the ground up with their very own hands. Everyone thought that their friendship wouldn’t last, that eventually, friendly rivalry would turn ugly but the three old men still got together at the Jeons more than once a week for a casual game of poker.

The Min, Kim and Jeon family are often referred to as the 3 greats of the logistics industry, but they were more than just that. The comradery between the 3 families has lasted for generations now. Jungkook doesn’t even remember a day where he didn’t have Yoongi and Taehyung by his side when he was growing up and even now, they’d at least see each other once a week, be it for a casual coffee or the occasional supper. The three of them seem like an odd combination, so different from the other yet somehow, it worked. Perhaps it was the fact that they carry the same burden, the pressure of having to take over such a huge company one day or perhaps it was the other 101 things that they had experienced together that helped shape what is seen as an unusual friendship.

Jungkook stares at his screen, unsure of what his reply should be but sure of the fact that he wanted the conversation to move forward. He wasn’t quite sure where he stood with you yet but the two of you had been texting day and night since he had dropped you home that evening and maybe it was because you were a lot more comfortable over text that he found himself being drawn towards you, wanting to know more about you. Perhaps it was your crass humour or the way you sent him the weirdest memes, a sign of real friendship you had told him one day but he finds himself waiting for a text from you for a greater part of the day but your busy work schedule meant that they were few and far in between until the end of the day comes and suddenly he’s sat there texting you for hours on end, way past his usual bedtime.

Talking to you seemed real because for the most part he knew you didn’t have a hidden agenda, he didn’t have to worry about your intentions or any of the sort because the deal the two of you have has taken care of that and if this felt like a job to you, it never showed and for that, Jungkook is grateful. You speak to him as if you’ve known him for years, not boring him with stupid small talk that he hates but you dive head in, skipping the part where you awkwardly try to get to know each other, instead choosing to talk about that midnight movie you snuck into that day or even your thoughts about the government, fully uncensored of course and boy were you brutal. It’s a breath of fresh air because Jungkook doesn’t remember a conversation he’s had as of late that didn’t have to do with who was boning who or who just got a new car or mansion because frankly, Jungkook could give less of a damn about all those superficial things. He just wanted for once to have a conversation that mattered, one where he left feeling like he learnt something, a good sort of conversation that left you feeling in some way or rather, fulfilled and that he got whenever he spoke to you.

Perhaps the reason that conversations with you seemed so interesting was that you had an entirely different perspective on life, one he assumes is because all his life, all he’s known is the North, the isolated dream island of a city that is separated from the bottom half of the city and the rest of the mainland, the only connecting factor between the two pieces of land is a less than impressive bridge. Jungkook doesn’t know much about his country other than what was taught in school and he has a feeling that much of what he’s been taught has been watered down or altered because after hearing you speak about the provincial parts you had grown up in, everything he has learned doesn’t seem to make sense anymore.

All Jungkook really knew about his city, was that there was a long river that runs through it, dividing it in half, and for years now, the people from the North and the South had lived entirely different lives. The North, where Jungkook was from had the bright lights, the fancy restaurants, the good schools and hospitals. It had everything it needed to be classified as a dream city while the South on the other hand had quite the opposite. It had the crime, the poverty, the dilapidated apartments and ironically, it also had the backbone of the city’s wealth, the port.

Over the course of a week and a half, he has learned a fair bit from you about his country and to his surprise, his very own city because although he doesn’t like to think about it, the segregation is real and he has never had the chance to know about the intricacies of the part of the city his very own company depends on, until he met you of course.

[02:30] You: you know

[02:30] You: i’m a little sad because in the interview portion, you mentioned that you were happy to be there

[02:30] You: because all your friends were there

[02:30] You: but you know who wasn’t there?

[02:30] You: your most important friend

[02:30] You: aka the one you’re paying for

[02:30] You: aka

[02:30] You: me

Jungkook giggles at that, shaking his head at you. For someone who was so shy in person, you were surely pretty brazen over text.

[02:31] Jungkook: are you using your phone at work again?

[02:31] Jungkook: you’re a horrible employee

[02:31] Jungkook: how have they not fired you yet?

Rude, you mumble out loud. It was 2 am and the last customer had walked out about an hour ago. You’d be bored out of your mind if you didn’t use your phone from time to time.

[02:31] You: nobody wants to work the graveyard shift so I mean…

[02:31] You: also, hello, please don’t change the subject Mr. Popular

[02:32] You: frankly, I’m offended that I did not get a special mention

Jungkook scoffs at your text because you sure were a fickle minded person.

[02:32] Jungkook: wow

[02:32] Jungkook: okay

[02:32] Jungkook: I visited you at your workplace last week and you tried to shoo me away

[02:32] Jungkook: said you were afraid people would associate me with you

[02:32] Jungkook: and here you are wanting to be associated with me

[02:32] Jungkook: make up your mind pls

You plonk your head on the table, a slight brush creeping up your face as you remember Jungkook strolling into the convenience store you worked at after you specifically told him not to come. The look of shock on his face after you pushed him out the doors made the situation all the more worse but really, things could’ve gone wrong if he stayed.

[02:33] You: omg that was bc a bunch of paps always hang around outside the store

[02:33] You: waiting for the celebs to leave the clubs on the opposite side

[02:33] You: i clearly said paps when I shoved you out the store

  [02:33] Jungkook: who cares if the paps saw us hanging out?

Who cares? Who cares?! Everyone cares. You’ve seen it all play out, seen how someone’s life goes up in flames simply by having had their picture taken with the wrong person at the wrong time.

  [02:33] You: i’ve seen the magazines okay

[02:33] You: i know what it’s like when they see someone of your stature

[02:33] You: hanging out with someone like me from the south side

[02:33] You: bad press

[02:33] You: I’ll be labelled your south side hoe

[02:33] You:  and then there’ll be a scandal

[02:34] You: then your company’s stocks will plunge

[02:34] You: so really, I was trying to protect you ok

Jungkook laughs at your text because god, you were so gullible. Half the content of the magazines you read were in some way scripted. Usually, the paparazzi are called beforehand by their PR Team so that pictures could be taken of them leaving the trendiest place or hanging out with the in crowd. Of course, he wanted to tell you that the paparazzi had no interest in him of all people considering that his mother had always made sure that any unapproved pictures of him would never make the stands because she’d make sure the magazine would never be able to publish again but you seemed to rather enjoy those magazines so, he didn’t want to ruin that for you.

[02:34] Jungkook: aw, you care

[02:34] Jungkook: that’s cute

  [02:34] You: of course I care

[02:34] You: you’re my source of income

  [02:34] Jungkook: wooooow

  [02:35] You: wait, I mean

[02:35] You: of course I care

[02:35] You: you’re my friend

  [02:35] Jungkook: unbelievable

[02:35] Jungkook: all you think about is money

Of course that was all you thought about. Maybe if you were as rich as Jungkook, money wouldn’t even be something that would be on your mind on the daily but you were you, struggling to even find enough cash in your pocket to pay for a sandwich.

[02:35] You: well I’ve got bills to pay my friend

  [02:36] Jungkook: fair enough

[02:36] Jungkook: speaking of money

[02:36] Jungkook: when are you free?

[02:36] Jungkook: at this point I’m starting to think you’re trying to avoid me

Jungkook had asked to hang out twice so far and you had turned him down, citing work as an excuse and he’s not so sure he believes you. That’s why he decided to pay you a visit while you were working and okay maybe he felt a little bad for doubting you because he saw you at the cash register, scribbling away at the inventory log. He could see the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders were slouched forward, the frown you wore and he didn’t know you too well yet but in that moment his heart ached for you.

[02:36] You: i’m not, i swear!

[02:36] You: i was called in to pick up an extra shift that day

[02:36] You: and that other day as well…

[02:36] You: But i’m free tomorrow night!

  [02:37] Jungkook: nice

[02:37] Jungkook: i’ll pick you up for dinner at 7?

 A free meal, you smile. Heck yeah you were in for that. If it weren’t for the fact that you had to pick up two extra shifts, you would’ve already had 2 free meals, good ones at that.

  [02:37] You: in your Lamborghini?

[02:37] You: you know i only agreed to this deal bc i dream of sitting in your lambo one day

  [02:37] Jungkook: nah

[02:37] Jungkook: you were so flustered the day i met you

[02:37] Jungkook: i know you said yes bc you’re secretly in love with me

 Jungkook laughs as he remembers the way you had rose to your feet the instant his chair turned around, how you had dropped all your belongings onto the floor and you were scrambling to stuff everything into your purse so you could run. Adorable, he laughs. He loved seeing you flustered and he knows if he had said what he had texted to you in person, you’d be a sputtering mess.

 [02:38] You: nice try

[02:38] You: but

[02:38] You: FALSE

  [02:38] Jungkook: hmm

[02:38] Jungkook: i clearly recall you saying something along the lines of i love Jeon...

 You didn’t say that out loud did you… You’d rather die than live knowing that Jungkook knows you’ve had a crush on him ever since you saw his picture in the newspaper when you were 17. He mustn’t know.

  [02:38] You: what?

[02:38] You: i never said that?

[02:38] You: but I mean

[02:38] You: i probably said I love your grandpa maybe

  [02:38] Jungkook: so you’re into old people?

[02:38] Jungkook: like a reverse pedophile???

[02:39] Jungkook: a gerontophile…

 How does he even know that term? God, you meant you admired him. For a second, you’re not sure what to type back and you wonder if this is why Jungkook has to pay you to be his friend because if he’s like this with everyone, you can imagine why he didn’t have anyone to hang out with.

  [02:39] You: wth

[02:39] You: i didn’t mean it like that…

[02:39] You: you’re so…

[02:39] You: wtv

[02:39] You: anyway okay see you at 7 tomorrow

[02:39] You: in your lambo

[02:39] You: bye

  [02:39] Jungkook: wow I have to pay you to hang out with me

[02:39] Jungkook: and you still make demands???

  [02:39] You: what can I say

[02:39] You: i’m a difficult woman

[02:39] You: also a customer just walked in so gtg bye!

Jungkook sets his phone aside, shaking his head as he laughs, a common sight whenever he texted you. Truth be told, talking to you has become something he’s become quite fond of, perhaps even one of the best parts of his day.

Jungkook picks you up from work like he promised, parking his car two blocks away like you asked because apparently you didn’t exactly need to be seen getting into a car you’d never be able to afford. Actually, he didn’t even pick you up because you had told him to wait in his car and that you would find him but he bargains with you and you relent, letting him wait for you a block away from the convenience store you worked at.

From the moment you see him, you’re already giddy, for him, he wishes but he knows you’re only this happy because in a few minutes, you’ll see your dream car right in front of you. He watches as you sprint towards it when it comes into your view, the car in all its matte black beauty, elegant and poised. Before he can tell you that the car doors open upwards, you’re already diligently sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for him which surprises him because the best part about watching people get into his car was to see them struggle with the door. He’s impressed obviously that you seem to know more about luxury cars than you had initially let on but when he gets in the car, he sees you admire the interior, fingers softly ghosting the plush leather interior, a sign that this was a rare occurrence for you.

He expects the car ride to be awkward seeing as to how you’ve always had trouble with small talk but you bombard him with question after question about the car he’s driving and he doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone so interested in this car and everyone before you who had sat in this car couldn’t even pronounce the car model’s name right but here you are asking about the CC of the engine, if he liked the automatic double clutch system and the car’s top speed. In fact, if anything, Jungkook feels embarrassed because he couldn’t answer most of your questions because all he knows was that it looked good in the show room and that alone was a good enough reason for him to buy it.

“How much do you have to pay monthly?”

“Monthly?” Jungkook quirks his eyebrows. What do you mean by monthly?

“Yeah, you know… for the loan?”

Cute. You thought he had a car loan.

“Shit, you paid for it in cash?” You gasp, finally realizing why he didn’t understand your question.

He only nods his head, laughing at the expression on your face.

“Damn, what a concept,” You exhale, wishing that you could do that too, walk into a showroom and pay for a car in full right there and then. Well actually, you wish you even had a car to begin with. Amazing, you sigh to yourself. You knew the rich kids had it good but you didn’t know they had it this good.

“So, what’s for dinner?” You question as your stomach growls, the sandwich you had for lunch already long digested. “How many Michelin stars does the restaurant have?” You grin, already conjuring up an image of what dinner was going to be like.

“You’ll see,” He smirks and the smile on your face is unmatchable, pure joy radiating from you as you picture your soon to be meal.

The two of you stand in a modest store and you frown when you don’t see any chairs, no fancy tablecloth or anything of the like for La Table, is the name of the place and zero is the amount of stars the place has because it wasn’t even a damn restaurant.

“Alright everybody, put on your aprons!” Calls the woman from the front of the room.

“Are you serious Jungkook?” You groan, the emptiness in your belly becoming unbearable. “We’re here for a cooking class? This is our dinner?”

“I thought it’d be fun,” He shrugs and the glare you give him makes him laugh.

“So welcome everybody to tonight’s advanced class! Tonight’s segment is called Date Night: Passport to Paris!” The chef smiles and you look over at Jungkook in shock only to find he has the same look on his face.

“Advanced? Wait, isn’t today just the umm… Essential Skills for Beginner Cooks?” Jungkook asks one of the assistant chefs making her rounds, his voice full of panic.

“That’s next week honey,” She smiles before sauntering away, going to check up on the equipment on the other benches and Jungkook’s heart drops.

“I mean Jungkook, if you wanted to change this arrangement from platonic to romantic, you could’ve just told me,” You tease. “I don’t need some big gesture date night cooking class.”

“No that’s not— I didn’t—”

“Calm down,” You laugh. “I’m just teasing.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t understand,” He frowns. “I can’t cook. Like I’ve never tried… before and now we’re going to— What if I mess up?”

He genuinely looks so worried, so afraid that you can’t help but laugh.

“Chill, Jungkook. If we mess up, then we mess up,” You shrug. “I’m not great at cooking either but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. If you burn the dish though, we’re going for supper.”

“I mean whenever you’re involved, isn’t supper a given?” He laughs because whenever he texted you late at night, even on days you weren’t working, you always seemed to be having supper. A new habit of yours thanks to the deal you had struck up with Jungkook because now, you could afford two meals a day, that being lunch and supper.

“That’s true…” You murmur. “Are you trying to say that I eat too much, punk?” You frown, throwing playful punches at him to which he dodges with a laugh.

The class begins as everyone shuffles in, taking their respective places at their benches. Everyone else in this class were obviously couples because duh, it’s date night and truth be told, Jungkook envies them, envies the way they stared at each other like their significant other were their entire world and he often wonders when he’ll find that, if he’ll ever find that. It’s an odd thought to have but his mother has always had a tight grip on all aspects of his life and sure he has had a few flings here and there but word travels fast in the upper echelons and the moment one of the women says I heard your son’s been seeing (insert name here), it would be game over for him. You have to focus on the company, she would say. Women are only distractions, she would remind him and Jungkook would sigh, knowing what he would have to do the very next day.

All his life he’s felt restricted, the only friends he had were ones she approves of and he really couldn’t care for the most of them, the only actual company he enjoyed was that of Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung. Though the 3 of them were best friends, they were entirely different people, none of them ever interested enough to do the things Jungkook wanted to. Technically, he never asked them because in truth, he was shy to and he didn’t really have to ask them anyway because he knew Yoongi would much rather be at home during his free time and Taehyung would much rather be out and about, attending parties, drinking expensive wine.

Jungkook doesn’t like to admit it but with his new found freedom, he’s come to realize just how lonely he was, not that he had a problem with being alone but… he’d much rather have company with him whenever he wanted to go on one of his odd little adventures. He really had tried everything, searched high and low in his inner circle of friends, he had even put up a Craigslist ad to find friends but the only responses he got creeped him out so, when he saw that sugarbaby conference ad in the newspaper, gears started turning in his head and when he saw pouty you hanging out at the back of the room, ploughing through glasses of champagne, his interest was piqued. Just by how you spoke, Jungkook could pick up on the fact that you weren’t from the North side and perhaps he was drawn in by that, by how he was told his entire life that those from the South weren’t worth his time and yet he felt like you were the only person in the room he had clicked with that night.

Jungkook’s mind drifts in and out of the class, not really daring to do much despite you giving him plenty of chances to try doing something other than washing the vegetables but he insists he was fine with doing just that.

“Come on,” You laugh. “All you have to do is push the bacon strips around the pan!”

Jungkook only shakes his head vehemently and you let out a snort.

“Typical, rich men,” You shake your head. “Always wanting all us Southies to do all your work for you,” You snort, teasing him.

“That’s not what I—” He sighs, choosing not to complete his sentence. “I just don’t want to mess anything up,” He frowns and you can tell that for some reason or the other he feels genuinely afraid to even actually attempt to cook.

“Jungkook you’re going to have to at least try,” You offer an encouraging smile, handing the spatula to him.

“Next dish,” He murmurs, shaking his head and you nod at that, smiling at him.

Jungkook doesn’t know how to explain to you that he had an inexplicable fear of failure and of trying new things. The very fact he’s here with you, trying something new is in itself, a miracle. Ever since Jungkook could remember, his mother had quite a temper on her and if there was one thing she hated more than anything, it was when Jungkook had failed at something. If Jungkook really thinks about it, he’d grown up fearing his mother more than loving her and it’s sad of course but even at the ripe old age of 23, Jungkook still feared her. She never hit him, no, but she never had to because her words hurt him more than anything, her words had the power to break him. That being said, he still loves her, he does. After all, she had single handedly raised him and he’s more than grateful to her. He assumes the way she tries to control everything, to keep everything in order is her way of coping with the loss of her husband or at least that’s what Jungkook thinks. He wonders from time to time what his life would be like if his father was still around, if Jungkook and his mother would be a lot happier instead of how they both feel a giant gaping hole in the middle of their chests that never seemed to heal, not even with time.

Everyone looking from the outside in sees Jungkook as the young boy groomed to perfection and genuinely, that’s what it is. Every single decision in his life up until recently has been made by his mother and unluckily for him, fun and rest, were not part of her vocabulary. From the get go, it was extra tutoring to piano classes to ballet classes to swimming classes and then topped off with even more tutoring. To say he had a fun childhood would be a great big fat lie because he remembers being wildly unhappy but not having any power to do anything about it. He always told himself to hold on, to tough it out because maybe when he’s older, he’d be able to have the life that he’s always wanted

Yet, in everyone else’s eyes, his life just as it is now is what everyone wanted. The nice cars, the fancy clothes and the big family mansion is everyone’s dream life but Jungkook honestly feels like all of it is a sham because that isn’t who he is, in fact far from it. Because Jungkook hates the piano, hates ballet, hates swimming, hates all things his mother had coerced him into doing but among the elites that’s what he is known for, his exceptional piano skills, his gracefulness as a dancer and his medals that he collected over the years at all those swim meets. Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what he is. The picture of success, happiness and elegance, that’s what he had to be but sometimes it all got a little too much for him to keep up with.

For most of his life, he felt like he was playing a role, that he was his mother’s puppet but not too long ago, he took a stand, moving out of the family mansion in favour of a comfortable apartment. His mother had picked it out obviously, it was the only way she had let him leave. He told her it was to show the world that he was independent, that he’d be seen as a more reliable soon to be CEO of Jeon Logistics and to his surprise, she agrees. It was a sudden realization that dawned on him, like a mid-life crisis or probably quarter-life crisis in his case that he had actually never done anything for himself his entire life but rather lived most of it trying to please his mum. So, his rebellion started out small initially with him moving out of the Jeon estate and gradually, it moved on to things like eating at Mcdonald’s regularly, something his mother had never let him do because she was convinced it was bad for him. But he didn’t stop there, the small form of disobediences giving him enough confidence to continue so, it casually turned into hitting all the clubs with Taehyung, which his mother was furious about but at this point , Jungkook could care less. Then finally, came you, the biggest defiance of all. If his mother found out he was hanging out with someone like you… Jungkook shudders at what his mother would do, wishing not to think about it.

You are quite probably her worst nightmare because you’re from the south side which by default meant that you were of a lower socio-economic status and essentially to put it in simple terms, you would never belong or come close to where the Jeons stood and if there was one thing she hated more than Jungkook's failures, it was when he mixed with people outside of his class. He had learned that at a very young age when he tried to befriend the help around the house, a lesson he has yet to forget. Yet, here he was with you, and quite honestly, he’s regretting it now because you’re forcing him to chop up green beans and frankly he’s never held a kitchen knife before.

“Oh god, Jungkook, no!” You yelp as you watch him haphazardly chop the vegetables. “You’re gonna cut one of your fingers if you do that.”

“I, uhh…” He mumbles, his voice small and shrunken because just like always, he couldn’t even do the small things right, he sighs. There’s a large frown on his face and it makes you feel horrible for reprimanding him like that. You step closer to him, a light laugh escaping you as he steps away, letting you take over but you pull him back to his spot. “No, no, you’re not going to make me cook and do prep too,” You laugh.

“Relax your hand. Tuck your fingers slightly inwards and place it here,” You instruct, taking a hold of his wrist, placing it a quarter length away from the tips of the beans. “And the knife,” You try to reach around him for his other hand until you realize that your arms were simply too short so, he laughs taking a small step back from the counter to make space for you. You stand snugly between him and the counter and he’s not sure this is the best way to teach him how to prep the vegetables but he keeps his lips tightly sealed. This was oddly getting a tad bit too domestic for Jungkook but what’s worse is that he feels he rather enjoys having you this close to him when he really shouldn’t because after all, you’re supposed to be just his friend as in platonic, with a capital P so he tries his best to shove aside whatever feelings that seem to be stirring deep down in the pits of his heart. “And don’t hack at them, just slowly slice through them like this,” You continue, hand on top of his, gently guiding it, the gesture making it difficult to concentrate on what you were saying.

“R-right, thanks,” He murmurs, as you turn around to smile at him before ducking under his arms to step away and Jungkook can feel a tingling sensation in his chest when your soft hands leave his. Did his heart just skip a beat? Probably… but it shouldn’t have though. This was all only happening because he’s still feeling rather flustered from his vegetable chopping mishap, he reasons. He’s usually much, much better with girls but he doesn’t know what it is with you that has him feeling so out of his element.

Jungkook feels slightly accomplished when he had chopped all the vegetables on his own and also with your help, cooked the chicken breast in the tarragon sauce. Like with the vegetables, you guide him through the whole cooking process slowly, your hands over his trembling ones as you make sure he stirs the sauce thoroughly and maybe this time he purposely asks for your help just so you would stand close to him again. But, every time he makes a small mistake, he feels like shrinking away, like when you had asked him to put in some pepper and he had obviously put in too much but instead of screaming at him, you only laugh saying that if anything, you could dilute the sauce if need be. There’s a sigh of relief that escapes him because unlike all his other teachers, you’re patient and Jungkook finds a sense of comfort in your presence. For the first time, he feels like he’s with someone that didn’t expect him to be perfect.

When it comes to the final dish of the night, the dessert, Jungkook has grown confident, perhaps a little too confident because he says he thinks he can make it better than you.

“Challenge accepted, Jeon,” You grin.

Though Jungkook doesn’t get very far before he’s asking for your help and you abandon yours in favour of helping him. You can’t help but think that he looks like a lost little puppy the whole time and maybe it makes your heart twitch a little when you see him pout. It surprises you obviously, the fact that he seemed quite timid because he was always painted as a confident, charming man in the magazines, but you’ve only seen him as a quiet, shy boy all night tonight. When you finally take the dessert out of the oven, Jungkook smiles so widely that you almost feel like reaching over to pat him on the head endearingly.

“So with all of that done,” The chef announces. “It’s time for you to plate your dishes.”

Both you and Jungkook can’t seem to come to a consensus when it comes to plating because the two of you have totally different ideas on what looks good and somewhere along the line it turns into a competition. If anyone looked around the room, they’d see cute couples working together, quietly drizzling sauce on their plates and then one look at the last bench and they’d see you and Jungkook throwing insults at each other over your respective artistic choices, screaming and laughing at each other as a raw vegetable goes whizzing over either of your heads. Young love, the other couples sigh. It was always so refreshing to see couples that were just starting out. Ah, but little did they know…

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” You snip at him, trying to stop your hand from trembling as you attempt to smear the sauce artistically like you had seen on the cooking channel that one time.

“Am I making you nervous?” He smirks, standing so close to you that you could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

“No…” You mumble. “Just stop staring at me!” You grumble and Jungkook laughs, closing the distance between the both of you until you could feel his breath fan across the back of your neck, an involuntary shiver running up your spine.

“I know it’s hard to concentrate when the man you’re secretly in love with is standing this close to you but relax, Y/N, it is date night after all,” He grins smugly and you can feel a blush creep up onto your cheeks but no, your dignity as a chef is on the line so, your response is an elbow to his abdomen. Jungkook backs away laughing as you mumble under your breath, sauce all over your plate now thanks to him.

As per Jungkook’s request the chef comes around to look at the dishes to pick a winner among the both of you and in your mind, you know you’re going to win hands down because your plate looked 10 times better, in your opinion.

“Im going to have to go with, Jungkook,” The chef smiles, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips. “It’s simple, clean and looks great!”

“What the f—” You bite your tongue, cutting your sentence short. “Of course it looks clean, there’s barely anything on his plate!”

“It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality and I’m a fan of minimalism.”

“Quality, my a—” Once again, you purse your lips, swallowing the rest of your sentence. “The chicken on his plate is smaller than the size of a baby’s fist! How are you even supp—”

“Alright, thank you so much for helping us decide,” Jungkook cuts in when the chef looks remarkably horrified at your small outburst and you grumble as he pulls you away from her.

“She’s biased,” You pout. “I demand a rematch.”

“No, no,” Jungkook argues. “I won that fair and square.”

“Oh come on, she was shooting heart eyes at you from the front of the room the whole time,” You groan. “Of course, she was going to pick you.”

Had she? Jungkook hadn’t noticed. In fact, he hadn’t noticed anyone aside from you the whole session.

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Am not. I want a rematch, punk,” You jab his chest with your finger.

“No can do, babe,” He smiles, before turning to dig into the salad that you had singlehandedly made and you pout, sinking your fork into the vegetables as you mutter to yourself.

You eat your meal with a perpetual frown on your face and Jungkook finds it absolutely adorable how you’re so upset over something so menial. He tries to make conversation, but you purposely ignore him, feasting on the extra bacon strips that you had fried over the course of the session. God, you’re so cute whenever you pout and he wonders if that fluttering feeling in his chest had to do with you or perhaps he had an underlying heart condition that he needed to get checked because it’s been happening a lot as of late. Much to Jungkook’s dismay, nothing he says seems to catch your attention and he’s stuck in a one-sided conversation with himself until he mentions supper and suddenly, your frown fades, replaced with a bright smile instead.

You insist on saving all the leftovers even when Jungkook tells you that you shouldn’t because it tastes mediocre at best and you only sigh, shaking your head at him because he didn’t understand that you’ve been having sandwiches for lunch for a straight month now and you’ll take anything you can get at this point. So, he relents, watching you stroll down the street with a massive paper bag in hand and the widest smile on your face.

“What’s that?” You question, stopping in your tracks to point at a store, baffled by the queue that went around the block considering that it was nearing 10 pm.

“That’s Glazed, you know… the donut shop?”

“Ah,” You smile. “I’ve seen it online. Best donuts in the city or something,” You scoff, as if it was untrue and Jungkook feels mildly offended because he loves their donuts.

“They are the best,” He defends and you can see the way his eyebrows are furrowed, as if you had personally attacked him.

“Nah, the south side does it better.”

“Have you tried them?”

“No…”

“Then how do you know it isn’t the best?”

“I just know,” You shrug and Jungkook looks at you in disbelief, his features coloured with a tinge of annoyance before he’s storming off into the store, completely ignoring the long line.

In a matter of minutes, he returns with warm donuts in hand and you have to admit that they smelled heavenly, yet you feign disinterest, only taking a bite when he prompts you to. He watches your face closely to judge your reaction but you keep a blank face, not wanting him to know that okay, they tasted good, better than you had imagined.

“Mehh, the south side does it better,” You shrug, taking another bite of the donut.

“Of course they do,” He rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, they do and it’s a whole lot cheaper too,” Your words muffled as you attempt to speak without choking on the donut piece you just swallowed.

“Says the person who’s almost finished the donut now,” He laughs and you look away sheepishly, licking at the sugar on your lips.

“Look, donuts are donuts and I don’t discriminate,” You smile, reaching into the bag for another one.

By the time the both of you reach the car, the bag of donuts have disappeared and if Jungkook remembers correctly… there were 4 of them in there and he hadn’t had any of them. He doesn’t say anything though, only watching as you admire his car again, running your finger around the exterior of the car.

“You want to drive it, don’t you?” He questions.

“N-no, Maybe… Yes...”

“Here,” He tosses you the keys and you lunge forward to catch them.

“A-are you sure?”

“Why? Will I regret it?”

“I don’t know… will you?” You smirk, a single eyebrow lifted as you slide into the driver’s seat.

The answer is yes, yes he will regret it because you’re driving at a speed he didn’t even know his car could go at and he feels like tonight might just be his last night on this Earth and he squeezes his eyes shut, clinging onto whatever his hands could find purchase on. The car ride in all honesty had started out fine, the car cruising at a leisurely speed until you crossed the bridge over to the south and you found a stretch of road, dimly lit by the streetlights and you stopped the car to ask him an innocent question. Do you trust me?, he remembers you asking and the rest was a haze to him because it all went wrong from there on.

“Lighten up,” You laugh. “What’s the point of having a beast like this if you don’t drive it at top speed?”

The point was, Jungkook explains, that the car looked flashy and that when he drove, he would at least leave the car knowing he would have all his limbs still intact. You laugh at that, shaking your head. The people from the north side of the city were always so timid, so afraid. Without warning, you slam down on the accelerator pedal harder and Jungkook doesn’t want to scream but he can’t help it not when you’re driving at this speed. You take a hard right into an empty parking lot and he can actually hear the tires of his car skid across the asphalt, his heart stuttering along with it.

“Are you ready?” You ask but he has a feeling you’re not looking for an answer because before he knows it, he’s sitting there watching as the car speeds off before everything goes blurry and he clutches onto anything he can grab on as the car spins around in tight controlled circles.

“Let loose! Just enjoy it,” You shout and Jungkook opens his eyes to look at you, the biggest grin he had ever seen on your face and he relaxes the grip he has on the seat. Maybe it was the fact that he was doing something so rebellious that has his heart pumping but soon his fear dissipates, replaced with pure unadulterated joy instead. He realizes now why he enjoys his time with you so much, be it in person or over text. It was the fact that you didn’t try as hard as everyone to try and impress him or put on a show but that you were just unapologetically you, doing what you wanted, saying whatever you wanted without regarding the fact that he was Jeon Jungkook because when he was with you, he felt like he was just him, just Jungkook, without the family name tied to him, without the expectations of what he’s supposed to be hanging above his head.

The two of you sit there, laughing as the car finally comes to a halt and Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it but he had enjoyed that more than he should, considering that what the both of you just did was technically illegal.

“Where’d you learn how to drive like that with a car like this?” It’s a genuine question because as far as he knows the intricate gear-changing systems are only found in cars that quite frankly, you couldn’t afford but you had worked his Lambo like a pro.

“When I first moved into this neighbourhood, I may have hung out with the wrong people,” You laugh. “Long story short, I’ve driven a few expensive cars. Stolen, of course.”

“Like you hot-wired them?”

“Does it look like I could walk into a neighbourhood here and hot-wire a Ferrari?”

“Well…”

“We either bribed the custom guards or straight up stole them from the port,” You mumble, referring to the port on the south side of the city. “Well, I didn’t. I never got that far into it. I just got to take the occasional drive.”

“You were one of them,” He gasps. “I think it was a year or two ago but Grandpa never got the Ferrari he imported in.”

“The Ferrari 458 Speciale, was it? I remember that one,” You laugh, the cherry red car still fresh in your memory despite the time that has passed. “Don’t tell him it was me…” You smirk and Jungkook can only laugh at that.

“Where is it now?”

“Somewhere in some gang leader’s estate in the provinces maybe,” You shrug, the details are a little fuzzy to you because you had tried your best to be aloof whenever the plans of where the cars were going was discussed.

“Do you still do it?” Jungkook asks and you can hear the apprehension in his voice, not wanting to sound like he was judging you but he totally was.

“No, not anymore.”

“What made you quit?”

“I just realized that I had come to this city so I could find a better life, not get sucked into all of that,” You exhale, as if you had almost wanted to say that you didn’t want to get sucked into all of that again but you had opted to leave that last word out but he doesn’t know why. Jungkook can tell that there’s something more that you weren’t telling him and he wishes to ask you a myriad of questions like what your past was like? What exactly it was that you were running from, but he knows it’s not his place to ask and he guesses you can sense that he had these questions burning in the back of his mind because you’re speaking before he can ask you anything.

“You ready for some donuts?” You question and he nods. “Well, you’re driving… and you gotta drive fast,” You smirk, getting out to exchange seats with him and Jungkook gulps in fear as he makes himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, Jungkook,” You begin, as the car sat in the middle of the empty road, like it has for the past 5 minutes. “You just have to slam the accelerator pedal. Don’t think, just do.”

“But…”

“If you’re worried about the cops… don’t be,” You laugh. “They have far more to worry about than two delinquents speeding down an empty road.”

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, unsure as to why he was letting you talk him into this. You were supposed to be someone who was to follow him along on the stupid, mundane things he wanted to do, not get him into trouble. Jungkook looks over at you and you only quirk an eyebrow at him, challenging him. God, his mother would kill him if he picked up a citation for reckless driving and yet, here he was, his foot flooring the pedal, his car going twice, maybe thrice the normal speed he drove at.

The car jerks forward, his body pressed to the seat and Jungkook feels the excitement, the adrenaline rushing through his veins and you were right, it was a lot more fun being in the driver’s seat. By the time he reaches the end of the road, Jungkook makes a U-turn, begging you to let him do it all over again and you laugh at how he asks for your permission because after all he was the boss and this was his car. So he takes off more confidently this time, driving at twice the speed limit, whizzing down the street and in and out of tight roads until he reaches the donut store you had guided him to, the dilapidated store with its broken neon sign buzzed above it. Shame, he was genuinely pretty excited but looking at it now, it seemed like it held little promise.

Jungkook waits with his car parked further down the street like you had asked and just as he steps out of the car, you’re bounding over with a large brown paper bag. You continue walking, beckoning him with a finger and he hesitates, not wishing to leave his car in the open like that… especially not if the same car-stealing gang you were once a part of are roaming the streets.

“Don’t worry,” You laugh. “Your car’s not going anywhere.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just trust me,” You smile and he lets out a sigh, reluctantly joining your side as you pass him a donut.

The two of you take a seat at the bench that looks out upon the water, the calming sound of the soft waves lapping up against the bank echoing in your ears. The bright city lights twinkle before you as you take in the view of the North, a spectacle you never got tired of seeing and you let out a light laugh as you watch Jungkook marvel at the scenery, his eyes wide open and filled with wonder. He stands up to wander around, whipping out his phone to take a few too many pictures, as if he feels like he would never see any of this again.

“What’s all the flowers over there for?” Jungkook questions as he takes a seat on the bench again, pointing at the corner a good distance away from the pair of you.

“It’s in remembrance of those who were lost in the fires a few years back.”

“Fire…?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in confusion, unable to recall anything about a fire in this city but he remembers seeing smoke fill the air a while back, but not bothering to figure out what was happening as long as it was south of the bridge.

“Yeah, it was maybe 2 years back,” You recall. “A huge fire started by a leaky gas line running through one of the apartments a few blocks back.”

“I-I’ve never heard of this.”

“Yeah, the mayor swept it all under the rug because the residents had been complaining about the leak for days before the fire happened,” You sigh. “That’s the worst part you know? That it was entirely preventable.”

“How many people…” His voice trailing off in the end, unsure if he wanted to know how many had perished.

“Hundreds,” You mumble. “No one knows for sure,” You shrug and Jungkook can only let out a deep exhale, one filled with sadness.

“It’s funny how we do so much for this city but we’re treated like second class citizens,” You laugh. “They said that all that separates us is a bridge, that we wouldn’t need emergency services on this side if we were only a bridge away,” You smile sarcastically. “But they watched our buildings burn from across the river, sitting on stacks of money that we helped them make.”

Jungkook sits in his seat, guilt bubbling within him because he didn’t know and possibly everyone across that very bridge didn’t know that this was the reality of those who lived just a drive away from them. Perhaps it was the propaganda that was thrown at him at school but from what little he has seen of this side of town, it wasn’t half as bad as what he has been told. Before meeting you, he had only gone to the port and back and he won’t lie, he had many a times seen the occasional broken window, the walls filled with graffiti and the shady men hanging out on the street corners. Everything seemed to be in line with the image that was painted of this side of the city but seeing what you’ve shown him, the vibrant community of late-night food stalls, the cute little mom and pop bakeries, to this lookout point, perhaps it was true that the government was trying to hide something by convincing everyone else that the South held no promise.

“They criticize the gangs that roam the streets here but you know who the first to respond on the scene were? The gangs,” You exhale, tucking the brown paper bag that held the donuts, by your side. “It didn’t matter whose territory it was or who had beef with who. Those men risked their lives, running into burning buildings to save those who were trapped inside, which is more than I can say about the cowards in those glass buildings that constantly tell us we’re not worth a damn thought.”

He’s never seen you so emotional before, your face stern, your voice filled with so much resent that he could almost feel it cutting him, though he hopes he isn’t a target of your resentment towards the rich.

“I’m sorry, I got a little carried away,” You frown. “It’s just… I know what people like you think of us, how you’re so afraid of us but there’s so much you don’t know about that goes on here. I would go so far to say you’re probably one of the very first North person to even venture this far into the South,” You laugh, digging into the bag for a donut.

“Probably,” Jungkook laughs in return. “And, you’re right, but in my defense, it’s only because of what I’ve heard about the South... about the gangs and the violence,” He mumbles. “And the fact that they always attack our shipments,” He whispers the last part, not wanting to downplay the atrocities that the government and by extension the North has committed against your side of the city but maybe that was why Jungkook has come to fear and to some degree hate the South so much.

“The gangs,” You scoff. “My question to you though is who essentially created the gangs? Who created the circumstances that forces us to feel like the only protection that we can get is if we have armed men running around protecting certain parts of our city, our country? That the main requirement of a regular 9 to 5 job, of getting into a university is not merit, no, it’s your postcode.”

Jungkook wishes to argue and to say no, that it was because the Southerners enjoyed the rough-housing, the illegal activities, that they enjoyed living off of his taxes, for that’s what he’s been told over and over but maybe hearing your reality, hearing you speak makes him think twice about the bubble he’s been living in.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He frowns. “The South has always been like a mystery to me and I guess, it’s not really my place to say anything or judge the way you live.”

“Jungkook,” You smile, shaking your head. “Do you think any of us here want to live like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question of course but he finds himself answering anyway, shaking his head solemnly.

“I know you think this is bad, but you haven’t seen what it’s like outside of the city, in the smaller provinces on the mainland where I grew up,” You sigh thinking back to your childhood. “Ask your grandfather, he would know. He briefly lived in one of the worst provinces in this country.”

It’s a subject his grandfather never enjoys talking about. His childhood almost a complete mystery to Jungkook as he’s learned not to bring it up, watching his grandfather’s face turn sour every time he had questioned him about it. The south, the provinces, the gangs were all hush hush topics, never to be mentioned around the house and Jungkook has a vague idea that they’re all tied together, that his grandfather had some experiences he wishes he could forget. We should do something about the gangs, a member of the board had brought up during a meeting, referring to how their shipments were being ambushed every time it left the port or was bound for the port because what was a logistics company if they could never deliver the goods? Jungkook remembers the way his grandfather had glared at the man, his cold piercing stare making even Jungkook shiver even though it wasn’t directed at him.

If you know what’s good for you, you’d leave them alone.

His voice a clear, loud warning to any who had conjured up ideas of how to curb gang activity. The meeting continued on, the final decision being that decoys would be sent out and the actual packages were going to be transported to and from the port through smaller unassuming vehicles. All of this made no sense to Jungkook because it incurred extra expenses towards the company and made them less efficient at delivering on time when it could have been easier to strike a deal with the gangs or simply just clean them out, both solutions that were much cheaper and convenient but who was he to say anything… He was still learning the ropes.

“Maybe someday,” He murmurs. A certain doubt stirs within Jungkook because to his knowledge, his grandfather has never made public where exactly it is that he had grown up.

You take the short silence as a chance to start a new topic, steering the conversation towards something lighter, like that new Marvel movie that’s slated for release later in the week, letting Jungkook do all the talking for a change for you were still trying to get yourself to calm down. It was hard for you to keep your emotions in check whenever you spoke about the South, about the gangs and about the government, especially when you were speaking to someone who comes from a privileged background. You know like most of the North, Jungkook saw nothing wrong with the state of affairs of the country, completely blind to the injustice but you guess that’s only because he saw no reason to be aware or he’s been brainwashed to think that there really was no injustice in the first place. After all, Jeon Logistics is one of the biggest supporters of the current government’s campaign, the only thing about the company that you absolutely hated and it baffles you as to why his grandfather would do that, would align himself to such evil men when he’s seen how bad it is in the provinces, having grown up in the mainland like yourself. Perhaps it’s for survival, you reason, that maybe if you were in his position, you would do the same. It’s a dog eat dog world after all and it was the cronies at the top in the North that have the upper hand so why would anyone align themselves to the losing side?

As the minutes pass and the conversation flows effortlessly from one topic to another, your anger dissipates as you laugh the night away with Jungkook. He tells you stories about his childhood, ones that leave you wishing that you had something close to what he had. He tells you stories of his first day on the job at Jeon Logistics, how he had been so nervous at the board meeting that he left 3 times to go to the toilet to pee. He tells you about the one time he had a disaster of a date, throwing up all over his date after having had one too many drinks and you laugh, telling him to remind you to at least keep him at an arm’s length distance if the two of you ever went to a bar. His stories make him feel real, approachable and it’s a dream to you that you’re getting paid to be his friend. Little did he know, that you would gladly do this for free, after all who wouldn;t want to be his friend? He doesn’t know but like him, you don’t have too many friends, because well you only have one... two, counting Jungkook... maybe three if you could count the chef at the noodle store you frequented. Though his tales are warm and friendly you can’t help but notice that there’s a huge chunk that’s missing in his stories and that’s obviously his family but you don’t ask because honestly, you don’t want him to ask about yours. It would make all of this far too complicated, you sigh, your thumb rubbing at your inner forearm, a tick Jungkook has seemed to taken notice of and you quickly busy yourself with the donut bag, nervous that he’ll ask.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve lost track of time while talking to someone, the only other person capable of keeping you occupied for that long is Wendy, your best friend whom you’ve been meaning to call up for days now because she keeps giving potential sugar daddies your number, which isn’t entirely her fault since you had given her the green light to do that when you last saw her at supper after the sugarbaby conference. You thought about how you were going to have to tell her you’ve managed to land one on your own, a platonic one at that and that your sugar daddy was none other than Jeon Jungkook but alas, the last part has to remain confidential as the contract between you and him had requested for you to keep it so. It ate you up inside, having to keep a secret this large from her and maybe that’s why you’ve been dilly-dallying, telling yourself to call her tomorrow except tomorrow never seems to come. You know with a few prods, you’d probably break, the secret spilling out of you because who else would understand better than her that one of the most eligible bachelor’s in the country was paying you to be his goddamn friend and the best part was that you’ve been dreaming of meeting him since forever.

Meeting Jungkook is a lot less magical than you had imagined it to be and there are no sparks or hearts flying around but you can’t deny that his presence stirs something within you, a feeling you want to deny because technically, he’s your boss and also, why put yourself in a position where you’ll end up crushed because in a year and a half when the contract ends, you don’t want to be hopelessly in love with him while he walks away, in search of a girl that could match his stature, one that he would probably end up settling down with. You’re thinking far too ahead into the future but maybe that’s the only image that can stop you from letting his passing flirty remarks affect you, from blushing when his gaze lingers a little too long because sure he can toy with you and you can do the same with him but you always have to remember that there’s an invisible wall between to two of you, one you would never be able to break and maybe in the end, you’re only attracted to the idea of him and not Jungkook himself but after getting to know him a little bit better now, that reasoning seems to be falling through the cracks. He would always gaze at you warmly when you spoke and for some reason it felt like he was tuning the world out just to hear you speak, something you’ve barely been able to experience, ever, considering that half the Northern guys you’ve met look at you like you’re stupid or not worth their time and if they were interested, it was only because they wanted to get into your pants. But, you remind yourself that you aren’t here for love or anything of the sort because after all, the end game of all of this was the money wasn’t it and not anything else?

Those are thoughts you push aside in favour of enjoying the rest of the night, telling Jungkook a little too many hours after that you actually have to be up early tomorrow for work but that’s a lie because at this point there was no point in sleeping for you’d be starting your new job at the port in approximately 3 hours now. The pair of you eventually leave the bench to move towards his car and Jungkook is a little worried that his car wouldn’t be there at all but as you had promised, he finds it where he had left it, not even a scratch on it.

“See, I told you it’ll still be here,” You smile.

“But you told me over text the other day that a car like mine would go missing the instant I let it out of my sight.”

“Not here it won’t.”

“What’s so special about this place?”

“It’s a crime-free zone,” You answer, snickering at the literal question marks that were floating above Jungkook’s head. “I think you’ve heard enough about politics tonight,” You laugh, walking around to the passenger seat of the car. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other night,” You huff before getting into the car.

“It’s like every corner of the South has its own story,” Jungkook laughs, shutting the door. “Maybe, you’ll tell me over donuts sometime this week?”

“Let me take a look at my schedule first,” You mumble and it makes Jungkook laugh because usually he’s the one saying that line.

“What?” You grumble and he shakes his head, letting you carry on as you figure out in your head if you have any free time this week. You eventually tell him that you’re too tired to think, that you’d text him later.

The car ride to your apartment is a little too short for Jungkook’s liking and although he’s spent his whole night with you already, it still made him slightly upset when he pulls up to your apartment. Again, like the first night, he wants to tell you that hanging out with you made him feel alive if that made sense but he decides against it, not wanting to sound dumb.

“So, now you have to tell me,” You unclick your seatbelt turning towards him. “Who does donuts better? The North or the South.”

Jungkook purses his lips before he grits his teeth, not wanting to let you know that okay, maybe he was wrong about the donuts in the North.

“The South,” He sighs, letting his head hang low as you let out a light laugh. “But you totally cheated,” He grumbles because by donuts he thought you meant just normal glazed ones but when he dug around the bag for another one earlier when the pair of you were on the bench, he found a powdered donut. The moment he bit into it to find a custard filled centre, he was sold. “How did you know that custard filled donuts are the way to my heart?”

“The custard ones were for me,” You frown. “You weren’t supposed to have them. They’re my favourite.”

The custard donuts were for you, yes and you lied because yeah you love them but you also bought it with the intention of offering him one. You remember reading in a magazine somewhere that it was his favourite, that if there was something the city was lacking, it was a donut store that knew how to do custard-filled donuts well. You’re just not looking hard enough, you sigh as you read the interview. You swore that if you ever met him, you’d take him to the donut store and that you did.

“Well it appears that we are soulmates then,” Jungkook grins as he winks at you and you roll your eyes at him but he can see your cheeks begin to flush a light pink.

“Alright, soulmate,” You laugh. “I’ll see you soon?” You ask, reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t know, you tell me, Mrs. Let me check my schedule,” He teases and you scowl at him.

“I’m a busy woman, okay?” You glower before laughing. “Thanks for tonight though. It was fun,” You smile.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” He smiles in return. “Oh and how much were the donuts?” He questions, reaching into his inner pocket for his wallet.

“Ah, Jungkook, don’t worry about it really,” You push away the cash he had in his hand now.

“Y/N,” He sighs. “Do you still not understand that I’m supposed to pay for everything?” This oddly seemed reminiscent of the last time he dropped you off. Why do you always pay for supper even when you’re strapped for cash? The part where he pays for everything was what he thought would be any sugar baby’s favourite part of the deal but you seem to think differently.

“I know, I know,” You mumble. “But, I just… Take it as a form of an apology for having to hear me ramble tonight.”

“No, Y/N, I—”

“Goodnight!” You shout, as you scramble to exit his car, not letting him argue with you. “I’ll see you around, friend!”

“Soulmate!” He corrects and though you’re a good distance away from him now, he can still see you scowl at him to which he only responds with a laugh.

Jungkook knows that tomorrow, he’ll probably receive an angry text from you, one that demanded he takes back the money he had slipped into the takeaway bag while you were buying the donuts because he had a feeling you were going to refuse his money by the end of the night. The amount he had left paid for the donuts and a lot more because he felt like you needed it and maybe he rather enjoyed the thought of you using it to spoil yourself, though he knows if anything, it would go to paying off your debts. He knows through all your texts that you have far more on your plate than you can handle and he wants to help you, even if you didn’t want his help. 

I don’t want to be your personal charity case, Jungkook, is what you had told him when he said he could help with your debt but that’s not what he meant for it to be like. 

I can get you an entry level job at my company, he had offered but you turned it down vehemently. Jungkook, that’ll only put you in a tough spot. I don’t want to get you in trouble... People will start asking questions, you had warned him and that was true, he admits. He later realizes that he wants you as far away from his mother as possible too.

He hasn’t told you yet but he admires you greatly. He wonders how you’ve been able to survive so long out here in the city without your parents, how you’re still standing after all the odds that have been stacked against you, how you still remain so kind, so caring even when life has been nothing but cruel to you. Looking at you, he truly realizes how unfair life can be because from his brief conversations with you, he can tell that you’re a genius, and he’s not going to lie, he may have asked for your help in trying to solve a few company dilemmas that he was tasked with, a few too many times. You’re an asset he wants at the company, and he can see the similarities between you and his grandfather, it’s almost uncanny, he laughs. But, just like his grandfather, you have an air of mystery that surrounds you, things he can’t seem to figure out, the top one being where is your family and why did you clam up whenever he asked about them? But, Jungkook guesses, he has a few skeletons to hide in his closet too, his family, his father, a main topic he has yet to discuss with you. Perhaps he was making mountains of of molehills, that you didn’t have anything to hide and that you simply just haven’t told him yet but with time, he hopes, you’ll clear the doubt in his mind. You couldn’t quite possibly have a hidden agenda could you? If you turned out to be yet another one of those girls who were hoping to be able to destroy his family’s company with dirty schemes, he wouldn’t hesitate to crush you, even if he’s grown fond of you.

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the sour thoughts that try to take root in his mind because tonight was far too good a night to be ruined by his habit of overthinking things. Perfect. Tonight was perfect in Jungkook’s books. He drives home feeling rather joyous, using the remaining distance before the bridge as an excuse to drive his car at way past the speed limit. Who knew he’d learn how to cook, break the law, have the best donuts he’s ever tasted and have a conversation ranging from politics to that new video game release, all in one night? This was something that was probably only capable of happening when he was with you. He feels like he’s going to plough through his bucket list that he’s had ever since he was 12 as he spends more time with you, your brilliant self adding onto his list things he never knew he wanted to do.

Alive. That’s how he felt whenever he was with you or talking to you. It’s stupid, because he’s often acknowledged by the inner social circle he has, everyone admiring the fine young man he’s grown up to be but he always felt like they didn’t really care about him, they just care about who he is, about who he’s going to be. You on the other hand, made him feel like he matters, like you enjoy having him around because he’s just simply... him and not because of what he has or what he’s achieved.

The night ends with all parties feeling overjoyed; Jungkook delighted with the unpredictable adventure that was tonight, you elated with the fact that not only had you laughed your ass off tonight but that also for the first time in weeks, you’ll be eating something that was not a sandwich for lunch, but perhaps the hooded man sat inside his car, opposite of where Jungkook’s was just seconds ago was the most content of the three. Happy didn’t even begin to describe what he’s feeling as his plan is coming along just nicely, almost too perfectly and he smiles, admiring the pictures he’d taken of tonight. Mrs. Jeon surely would enjoy seeing these pictures, you and him together, he sighs to himself. But no, it’s too soon for that. There’s still much that he’s waiting for you to do. A perfect night indeed, he smirks. 

A perfect night indeed.