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senashenta · 1 month

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Horror High: Chapter Six

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: I am getting some feedback that Chuck is OOC and I am AWARE he is OOC, I was going for a Chuck that is somewhere between prophet!Chuck and initial nice!God!Chuck because Cas needed a father that wasn’t a) a hopeless mess of a drunk or b) a megalomaniacal child having a constant temper tantrum. :D

Pretty much just fluff and smut in this chapter, not much else. New chapter next Thursday or Friday, depending on my schedule! Can also be read over on AO3!

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Six By Senashenta

The next day after school, instead of Dean walking Cas home, Cas walked with him back to the motel. They needed to upload the cocoon photos they had taken the day before to Sam’s laptop, and this way they could spend a little more time together before Cas had to head home. He called his father to let him know he was at ‘Dean’s place’ and would be home in time for dinner.

He and Dean, admittedly, made out a little before Sam got home from school, but no one was surprised by that fact. This time the door was properly locked behind them, so Sam had to knock, which meant he at least didn’t walk in on them like last time. It could have been worse.

Once Sam was there (and Cas and Dean had fixed their clothes), they wasted no time in uploading the photos, and then all settled in for a research session while Sam went over the pictures with a fine-toothed comb.

Eventually, Sam was laying on one of the beds, going through a pile of old books, while Cas and Dean sat at the kitchenette table, Cas also going through books and Dean reading articles on Sam’s laptop. Cas had left his own laptop at home, mostly because he didn’t want to chance taking it to school with him and having it broken—or stolen.

An hour and a half in, Dean disappeared from the room and came back with his arms full of cans of soda, bags of chips and chocolate bars—he had raided the vending machines in the motel lobby. They all helped themselves and continued to work, munching away quietly.

When it got close to time for him to be leaving, though, Cas’s attention began to pull away from the book currently in front of him and toward Dean because—

“Hey, Dean?” His voice came out hesitant, but Dean didn’t notice, too focused on the article he was reading on Sam’s laptop.

“Yeah?”

“My Father is going to be out of town this weekend. He has a seminar in Maine. Do you want to come over after school tomorrow?”

“Oh, sure.” Still distracted.

Over on the bed Sam faceplanted into his book and muttered, “oh my God,” under his breath.

Cas tried again, this time reaching to take hold of Dean’s arm. When Dean finally looked up, he cleared his throat and offered, “do you want to come over for the night?”

This time Dean got it. Realization dawned in his eyes, and he coughed, looked down, then looked back up and adjusted himself in his seat. “Yeah, definitely.” He managed, voice just a touch strained.

“Gross.” Sam protested.

“Watch it, brat.” Dean warned, ignoring the flush of red that was tinting the tips of his ears.

Cas squeezed his arm with a little smile and then returned to his own research. “We can order pizza.”

“Yeah ‘cause pizza’s what I’m gonna be worried about.” Dean muttered, making both Cas and Sam snort.

It was only a short time later that Cas had to excuse himself. It was a long walk home and he had promised his father he would be there in time for dinner. So, he packed up his things and headed for the door—only for Dean to stop him on the threshold and pull him into a kiss.

Sam grumbled, but Cas smiled against Dean’s lips and angled his head for another one—longer and deeper—before stepping back and giving the older teen a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” There was just a touch of nervousness in Dean’s voice.

Cas found it downright adorable.

-- --

[Cherry, I think. Why?]

Cas was fully aware that Dean had a thing for pie, and that night, while sitting in his room working on his homework, he had texted Sam to ask what his brother’s favorite kind of pie was. Sam seemed baffled by the question. Cas just responded:

[I want to make a pie for him. For tomorrow night.]

There was a long pause before Sam replied to that, seeming to understand now:

[OH. I get it. In that case, definitely cherry, but with chili peppers.]

Cas made a little confused noise to himself: [Chili peppers?] He questioned. He didn’t know much about cooking or baking, but that sounded… odd. Still, he trusted Sam, so he just waited for the younger boy’s answer:

[Yeah, like the Red Hot Cherry Peppers? It’s a hot-and-sweet thing they do with desserts sometimes. Dean loves it.]

Cas supposed that made sense. He knew people put strange food combinations together all the time, even if he didn’t understand it himself:

[Okay. Thank you, Sam.]

Now, Cas was of course not particularly known for the culinary skills. He had told that to Dean before on more than one occasion, and it was true, that was why he packed the same sandwiches for them every day for lunch at school. But he really wanted to at least try to do this for his boyfriend, so he grabbed his wallet, shoved it in his pocket, and headed downstairs.

“Where are you going? It’s getting late.” Chuck called from the living room when he saw Cas pulling on his shoes.

“To the grocery store.” Cas replied, “I’m going to bake a pie.”

Chuck nearly spit his coffee. He winced visibly (Cas couldn’t blame him), but in the end didn’t protest, instead just offering, “okay, good luck with that!”

-- --

After he got back from the store, Cas spent a good portion of the night attempting to bake a pie with minimal success (he set the smoke alarm off three times), and, after his final product was set to cool on the counter, locked up in his room doing research. The kind of research that he definitely didn’t want his father walking in on. The kind of research where he huddled in his bed with his laptop volume way down and his earphones in anyway, just in case.

Because. He had never done this before, and if things went the way he thought they were going to the next night, he wanted to know what he was in for. As much as he had tried to tell his father that he’d already learned everything from health class, that had been a blatant lie—because school health class only covered straight intercourse, and that was not what this was going to be. Like at all.

He had a general idea what was involved in sex between two men but didn’t know the details—or hadn’t. Now he did, and he understood why his father had shoved a tube of lubricant at him a couple days before. It made logical sense. It didn’t make it any less mortifying.

But even though all his research was, yes, mortifying, and at times confusing, it didn’t make him want it any less, especially since it would be with Dean. There was something about the thought of being that close with Dean—physically, emotionally—that made his stomach squirmy in a pleasant sort of way. Made him smile to himself, even though he was the only one in the room.

Assuming Dean wanted to, of course, which, judging from what had gone on between them so far, seemed a given, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, could he? Cas would just have to wait and see.

Sufficed to say that he didn’t get much sleep that night, and stumbled through his morning routine when his alarm jerked him awake at seven. He had fallen asleep with his laptop in his bed, his earphones still in from his forbidden and embarrassing Internet searches.

At least with little sleep there had been little time for nightmares, though he had still dreamt something vague about absorbing utter darkness into himself and then melting away into nothingness in a river. It had actually been one of his less distressing dreams, all things considered.

When he managed to get showered and dressed and make it downstairs, his father took one look at him and shoved a cup of coffee in his direction. He didn’t comment on the ‘pie’ on the counter. Cas downed the coffee like he’d been lost in the desert, and it was the first liquid he’d seen in a month.

By the time he had to actually leave for school he was feeling mildly more awake, and Chuck wished him a good day of classes and said goodbye, told him to behave and asked him to please not burn the house down—he would be leaving town while Cas was still in class.

The walk to school was long and arduous, and when he arrived at Caspar, Cas still felt partly asleep, but managed to locate Dean where he was waiting for him outside the building, regardless. He all but collapsed into the older boy’s chest, his head coming down against Dean’s shoulder. He yawned hugely.

“You look rough.” Dean observed even as he wrapped Cas up in his arms and tilted his head to kiss by his temple lightly. “Long night?”

“So long.” Cas agreed, stifling another yawn into Dean’s shoulder. He pushed back enough to look up at Dean, “I’ll be fine, I just have to wake up.”

Dean hesitated, then, “you sure you want me to come over tonight?”

But Cas shook his head immediately. He leaned in for a kiss. “I’m sure. Definitely.” Especially after all his preparation the night before. Between that and his father being out of town, it would be a waste. “I just need some caffeine.” Then, after a pause, “some more caffeine. I already had coffee.”

“Mm, I can taste it.” Dean smiled at him and kissed him gently again. “As long as you’re sure, Cas.”

Cas hummed and just leaned back against Dean again. “I’m sure, Dean.”

“Okay. Good. Because I already gave Sammy the whole lecture on Motel Safety since he’s going to be on his own overnight.”

A soft chuckle. “I’m sure he loved that.”

“Loved is a strong word.”

Another quiet laugh. Cas brought one hand up to pat against Dean’s chest, amused. For the first time in days, he wasn’t hearing the whispers that were surely going on around them. “Sam will be fine. He’s capable.”

“He’s thirteen.”

“And he was raised by you and your Dad, right? So, he’ll be okay.”

“I guess.” Dean allowed.

It was hard for him to think of Sam as anything other than a little kid, because he had practically raised him himself. Their dad had been there, sure, off-and-on, but he had been absent as much as he had been around, Dean had been the constant in Sam’s life. But realistically, Cas was right: Sam was growing up. He wouldn’t die just from spending one night in the motel by himself. Dean just didn’t like to admit it.

“If he rats me out to Dad about all this, I swear I’ll kill him myself.”

Cas gave a little snort and brought one hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, gentle reassurance even as he continued to rest his head on the older teen’s shoulder. “You will not.” He accused softly, breath warm at the crook of Dean’s neck, “you live for Sam.”

But Dean shook his head and tightened his arms around Cas slightly. “Not anymore.”

Cas’s fingers paused in Dean’s hair, then curled, tugging gently just once. He swallowed. “Dean, I—”

And then the first bell rang.

Cas jolted a little—and then sighed and pulled away from Dean, giving him a small smile. “You’re coming home with me straight after school?”

Dean reluctantly let him go, arms falling back to his sides, though he leaned close for one more kiss. “Yeah.”

Cas returned the kiss but didn’t deepen it, instead easing back to head inside. “See you at lunch, Dean.”

Then he ducked away and hurried into the building, leaving Dean to follow at a much more reluctant pace.

-- --

Lunch was spent quietly that day, the two of them just eating and sitting together, mostly in silence. Cas couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Dean was coming home with him—really coming home with him. And as much as he wanted it, there was a little ball of nervousness in his stomach, too. He wasn’t entirely sure why.

Dean seemed to be contemplating something himself, but whatever it was he didn’t share—and Cas didn’t ask. He never pushed Dean too hard. He knew Dean had his secrets, and sometimes it was better to let him keep them. Everyone was entitled to their own private thoughts, after all.

After school, Cas got out to the front of the building first, which was of course the typical way things went, and spent a few minutes fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt while he waited for Dean, perking when the other boy emerged from the school and headed over to where he was sitting.

“Up you come,” Dean reached down to take his hand and haul him to his feet, and Cas allowed it with a laugh. “How was your afternoon?”

“It was good. No cocoons in gym. Charlie says hi.”

“I don’t even know Charlie.”

“But she knows you.” Cas brushed off the back of his jeans with his free hand, his other hand still holding onto Dean’s. He picked up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder, then tugged at Dean’s hand gently. “Let’s go.”

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked as they stepped off school property and turned right. “You don’t look as rough as you did this morning.”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, adjusting his backpack, and then looking sideways at Dean, “I feel better. Just had trouble waking up this morning. Long night on the laptop.”

Dean smirked a little. “I never would have figured you as one for porn, Cas.”

Cas flushed red. “Dean!”

Dean laughed and squeezed his hand. “I’m kidding!” And then, “homework, right? Sam sometimes spends all night working on homework too. Then he drinks way too much coffee for a kid his age. What class?”

“Uh,” Cas was still bright red, but to his credit he shrugged and lied, “ancient civ. I had and essay due today and I’d, um, really procrastinated over it. I had to cram most of it in last night.”

“’Procrastinated’?”

“You are very distracting, Dean.”

A grin and Dean leaned over to kiss by his ear. “You’re still blushing. It’s adorable. I’m sorry.”

Cas grumbled under his breath but didn’t have anything to say in response to that. He just turned his eyes to the ground, watching his feet as he walked and willing the blushing to go away. That was embarrassing.

“You mad at me?”

“…no. Of course not. Just… embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. It’s cute.”

“Saying that will not make the blushing stop, Dean.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

When they got to Cas’s house, the door was predictably locked, and Cas dug his key out to let them in. Once inside with the door closed behind them, they paused in the entryway to take their shoes off—his father may not have been home, but No Shoes In The House was still the rule—and Cas set his backpack on the little bench by the door. He would take it upstairs later. Maybe.

Then he turned to look at Dean, hesitated, and finally informed him, “I made you a pie. For tonight. To go with the pizza.”

Dean started to perk—and then stopped. “Wait, you made a pie?”

Cas nodded.

This was worrying for a few reasons, but mostly because they had established early on that Cas could not cook. He had once said he could burn water. Dean hesitated, probably too long, and then finally said; “sure, let’s have a look at it!” With as much false hope and enthusiasm as a person could possibly convey. Cas didn’t buy it for a second, but also didn’t fault him for it, either.

So, they made their way to the kitchen, where… something, certainly not a pie, was waiting on the middle island, practically radiating malevolence. It was lopsided for sure, but one half was burnt black while the other half was somehow still practically raw. Frankly, Dean wondered if he should be Hunting it or something. He was pretty sure if you poked it, the thing would utter the word “eeeeevil.”

Cas just looked down on it and deadpanned, “nothing went according to plan, Dean. I suspect I am not good at baking pies.” Then he looked back up at Dean and added, “you don’t have to eat it. I just wanted you to know I tried.”

Oh good. Dean nodded and questioned with morbid curiosity, “what flavor is it?”

“Cherry,” Okay, a respectable flavor at leas— “with chili peppers.”

Dean balked. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“You know, like the Red Hot Cherry Peppers.” Cas explained, as if the words coming out of his mouth made perfect sense, “Sam said cherry was your favorite, and that cherry goes with spice like the Red Hot Cherry Peppers and—and you are looking at me like I’m saying something stupid. I’m saying something stupid, aren’t I?”

Sam. Of course. Dean palmed over his face and muttered “that little shit” before returning his attention to Cas, reaching to pull him closer and leaning in to kiss him gently. “Cas, my brother was screwing with you. And me. This is one hundred percent a prank. No one eats cherry pie with chilis. And it’s the Red Hot Chili Peppers, they’re a band. Like music, not like pie.”

Cas frowned. “Apparently Sam can also be a jerk sometimes.”

Dean actually laughed at that, grinning at his boyfriend before going in for another kiss. “That’s what brothers are for.”

Cas hummed against his lips and decided, “next time I’ll just buy a pie.”

Another grin. “That sounds like a good plan. Also, I’m going to make you an essential music playlist, your lack of music knowledge is just sad.”

“If you must.”

“Oh, I must.”

-- --

They ordered pizza for dinner (pepperoni, sausage, bacon and extra cheese—no vegetables for Dean, it seemed, but that was fine with Cas, he actually found it amusing) and took it to the living room, taking over the coffee table with the box and a couple of cans of soda, and then flicking through Netflix, discussing what to watch for several long minutes until Dean decided on a movie Cas probably had no interest in. The younger teen didn’t mind, though, he was more interested in Dean anyway.

So, they ate their pizza sitting side by side in front of the television, Dean explaining the movie to Cas along the way because the other boy was (predictably) lost right from the start.

Once they were done eating, they sprawled out over the rest of the couch, Cas leaning into one corner and Dean stretched out on his back, his head in Cas’s lap and a little, content smile on his face while Cas stroked his fingers through Dean’s hair, just toying with the soft strands gently.

Neither of them was really watching the movie anymore. Dean’s eyes were closed over and Cas was looking down at him, not at the TV, but the film continued to play in the background, regardless.

“Hey, Dean?” Cas asked finally, tugging gently at a strand of his hair.

Dean hummed out a happy noise. “Yeah?”

“You should be kissing me.”

“Oh, thank God,” Green eyes blinked open again and Dean began to sit up, “I was going crazy trying not to touch you over here!”

Over here was literally in his lap, but Cas got the idea anyway, especially when Dean made a point of immediately dragging him over and maneuvering Cas into his lap so that Cas was straddling him, then pulling him into a kiss.

The next while was spent continuing to ignore the movie entirely, making out heavily, hands wandering, hips grinding and little, nonsensical murmurs between kisses until Dean began trailing them down Cas’s jawline and neck, biting gently, and Cas muttered breathlessly, “my Father says I have to watch out for you. You’re just another horny teenage boy, essentially.”

Dean grinned against the crook of his neck. “And what do you think?”

“I think… I think we’re both teenage boys.” Cas swallowed and licked his lips, then sat back a little and lifted a hand to tug at Dean’s shirt lightly; “and I think we should go upstairs.”

Dean paused at that before leaning in to kiss Cas again, just gently this time. “You sure about that, Cas?”

Sliding his hand up to grip in Dean’s hair, Cas bit his lip and rocked his hips firmly into the older boy’s, making it more than obvious how hard he was, as if it hadn’t been already. He nodded, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sure.”

“Oh shit—” Dean swore, his own hips bucking upward in response, and panted softly, drawing Cas into another series of kisses, hot, deep, and hungry, “you’re incredible, do you know that?”

Cas laughed breathlessly and teased, “you’re just saying that because you want to get in my pants. As they say.”

But Dean shook his head. He bumped their foreheads together again and gave him another kiss, this time just brief and warm. “No. You’re incredible.”

Surprise. A blink. Cas tilted his head curiously, “but why? I’m not…” Trailing off, he glanced down, eyes shifting back-and-forth as he considered his words; “…special. I’ve never been special.”

“You are special, though.” Dean sighed, tightening his arms around Cas to pull the other boy even closer, and tilted his head to press soft kisses along his jaw back to his ear; “so don’t be stupid, you know I adore you.”

“I—” Cas leaned into the kisses, blue eyes closing over. “Same. But about you.”

Dean smiled against his skin. “Mm, I know.” Nipping by his jaw lightly, he sat back to give Cas another proper kiss. “Still want to go upstairs?”

“Definitely.” No hesitation. Cas smiled and began disentangling himself from the other boy so he could climb out of his lap and stand, “I did research. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Dean followed him up, brushing at his clothes once he was standing—but then stopped. “Wait, research?”

“Well yeah.” Cas shrugged, flushing just a little as he reached for Dean’s hand and then headed for the stairs, “it’s what I was actually doing last night, not homework. I’ve never done this before, so I thought I should know what I’m in for.”

“Oh.” Dean managed weakly. “So, you’ve really never…?”

A pause in Cas’s steps. He glanced back over his shoulder. “No.”

“Not even with girls?” He had known that he was Cas’s first boyfriend, but still.

“No… why? Does that matter?”

Dean’s face was getting progressively redder and redder. Cas just tugged at his hand to get him walking again. “Uh, what kind of research did you do?” He asked finally, voice just a touch higher than normal.

Another shrug as they climbed the stairs. “Just all kinds of things. Articles and videos and stuff. Most of it made sense. There was one video with a babysitter and a pizza man that was really… baffling, though.” (Most of the videos hadn’t been in any way logical, if he was being honest with himself.)

That made Dean laugh again, though. “I think I’ve seen that one.” He joked weakly—and then tugged Cas to a stop just outside his bedroom door. “Cas, I—” He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “Are you—I mean, I know you said you were sure, but are you sure-sure?I don’t—it’s just—shit, man, I want this so bad, but if you’ve never…” Green eyes met Cas’s searchingly, “I just really don’t want to screw this up, that’s all.”

Cas just looked at him, ignoring the faint redness in his own face. “Are you nervous because I’m a virgin?” Dean sputtered an affirmative, and Cas gave a little half-smile, “but you’ve never slept with another boy either, right?” Another somewhat squawked agreeing noise; “so aren’t we in the same boat?” He squeezed Dean’s hand gently and offered; “besides, you… you won’t mess it up. I don’t think you could. And even if you did, how would I know? Anyway… I want it to be you, for my first time. Okay?”

Dean looked at him in astonishment. “Why—why do you want it to be me?”

“Because I—” This time Cas hesitated, but only briefly before turning around to face Dean properly. He sighed and lifted both hands to rest against Dean’s chest, feeling how hard his heart was beating under his palms. “Because you care. Because you can be so gentle when you want to be. You always are with me, anyway.” Glancing down, he shrugged one shoulder and added, “because I’m very seriously falling in love with you.”

And oh. Dean’s eyes widened and he paused to gather his suddenly swirling thoughts, swallowing and licking his lips before wrapping his arms around Cas and pulling him closer, tilting his head to press a kiss against his forehead. “You know how I feel about you, Cas. You’re the most important person in my life, along with Dad and Sam, and I…” He trailed off then, ducking to nuzzle into Cas’s neck warmly. “Cas, I…”

Cas brought one hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair and smiled fondly. “I understand.” Then, a little worried that he might have pushed Dean too far already, he murmured, “do you not want to have sex tonight, Dean? We could just finish the movie and cuddle. Make out some more. That would be nice, too.”

But as much as Dean was worried about screwing things up, he still really did want to go through with this—he did suffer terribly from being a Teenage Boy, it was true—and he laughed against Cas’s neck at the very idea of waltzing back downstairs and just going back to the movie like nothing had happened.

“Not a chance.” He grinned and reached to open the door to Cas’s bedroom, bumping it open and backing into the room, tugging Cas with him. Cas went along willingly, closing the door behind them—and then Dean crowded him back into the closed door, pressing close and drawing him into a series of heated, wanting kisses.

Cas uttered a muffled pleased noise, hands coming up to hold at either side of Dean’s neck. He returned Dean’s kisses in kind, holding him close even as Dean’s hands rubbed at his hips before sliding up his sides, under his shirt and the older boy slid a knee between his legs to grind against him.

“Oh, God,” Cas broke off with a gasp to let his head fall back against the door and Dean dove in to trail messy kisses along the curve of his throat, his hands still under Cas’s shirt and rubbing hotly along his skin. “Dean…”

“Mmh.” Was Dean’s response. He slid his hands around to Cas’s back, still under his shirt, and pulled him away from the door and over toward the bed, kissing along his neck the entire time.

Once they were across the room they basically tumbled into the bed, Dean settling over Cas easily, comfortably, and Cas reaching up to pull the older boy down for more kisses even as Dean pulled at Cas’s shirt, pushing it up as far as he could without the younger teen’s cooperation. Then he just made a soft frustrated noise against Cas’s lips, almost pouting.

Cas laughed breathlessly and pushed Dean back a bit, then pulled his shirt off and tossed it away. That was followed by bringing his hands up to grab at the front of Dean’s shirt. “Yours, too.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, sitting back and pulling off the long-sleeved flannel shirt he was wearing, discarding it before grabbing at the back of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. It was pitched somewhere on the floor, too.

Cas just looked up at his boyfriend for a moment, swallowing thickly. Dean was already reaching to undo Cas’s jeans, and suddenly this was very real. Cas took a shaky breath but lifted his hips up when Dean started tugging his jeans down, allowing them to be pulled away and discarded easily.

“Dean…”

Something in his voice made Dean freeze, halfway to having his own jeans undone. “Cas?” He let go of his zipper and carefully lowered himself down, this time next to Cas, pressed into his side, leaning to kiss him gently. “Is this still okay?”

“I—” It wasn’t that he was having second thoughts, he still wanted this, he just… “I think I just—realized. That this is actually happening.” Then a short pause and he looked sideways at Dean to tell him, “sorry, it’s kind of a lot.”

Dean gave a relieved sigh and relaxed, tipping his head to kiss by Cas’s jaw. “You still want to?”

“Mm.” Cas hummed at the kiss and closed his eyes for just a moment before opening them again, giving Dean a smile. “I really do.”

“You sure?”

“Dean.”

“Just checking.” Dean defended and then added softly, “I really don’t want to screw this up, Cas. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“And I appreciate that, but still.” Cas lifted a hand up to card his fingers through Dean’s hair, tugging gently, and ordered, “take your pants off, Dean.”

A grin from the older boy. “I can do that.”

Dean climbed out of the bed long enough to shuck out of his jeans and boxers before clambering back onto the mattress, easing up against Cas’s side again. Cas swallowed a little again—and leaned in for a kiss, even as he reached with one hand to palm at Dean’s cock. Dean groaned against his mouth, muffled against his lips, and rocked his hips into Cas’s hand lightly.

But that wasn’t what the goal was, here, no matter how much they both enjoyed it. And it seemed unfair that Dean was stripped completely bare while Cas was still wearing his boxers… so Cas let go of Dean’s dick, placated him with another little kiss, then quickly stripped his own boxers off and pitched them out of the way.

Dean propped himself up on one arm to lean over Cas and ducked in for another kiss. “God, you’re gorgeous.” His free hand was wandering now, sliding hotly across Cas’s skin, along his chest and down to his abdomen—then lower.

Cas just whined at the compliment and arched into Dean’s touches, bringing one hand up to grab at the side of Dean’s neck and pull him closer again. “Dean.”

“I’m allowed to think you’re beautiful,” He was told firmly, Dean ducking to kiss down his neck to his chest, nipping there lightly, licking over one nipple. His hand closed around Cas’s cock and Cas bucked into it with a gasp. “Do you have condoms, Cas? Please tell me you have condoms.”

Blue eyes opened and he looked at Dean, gave him a little smile. “Yes.” Batting Dean’s hand away from his cock gently, he scooted over to reach into the bedside table drawer, pulling out the box of condoms and the tube of lubricant that his father had given him earlier. Then he returned to his place, tugging Dean down on top of himself again and holding the box of condoms up. “My… Father.” He explained embarrassedly, “insisted on giving them to me.”

Dean blinked, taking the box from Cas’s hand—then just grinned down at him. “What, really? I bet that was embarrassing.”

“You have no idea. He tried to give me the Sex Talk. Or at least the Cliff Notes version. When he told me he was going to be away for the weekend. He… assumed. This would happen.” One of Cas’s hands rubbed up and down Dean’s side restlessly. He shrugged. “I guess he was right. He also gave me this,” He held the lube for Dean to see. “Which we are definitely going to need.”

Another blink from Dean and he looked at the lubricant almost blankly. “Uh.”

“It’s different with guys, Dean.” Cas muttered, “you can’t just—I won’t get naturally wet, I—you have to prepare me, or you actually could hurt me.”

“Define ‘prepare’.” Dean said it as a statement, but it was actually a question.

Cas made a soft sound, half frustration and half embarrassment. His eyes skittered away to focus on the stars on the ceiling. “You won’t, um, fit. Unless you stretch me out first. That’s what the lubricant is for. If you don’t do that I—I mean. It’d hurt. A lot. I’d probably bleed. And that’s obviously not what I want from this…” Trailing off a little, he looked back at Dean again. “I’m sorry, we should have had this conversation earlier. It’s probably a turn-off.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, then dropped the box of condoms down on the bed beside them and took the lube from Cas’s hand, adding that to the little pile. “Cas,” He said firmly, “first of all, we’ve already established that the last thing I want to do is hurt you in any way. So, this little talk is necessary. And second?” He grinned and leaned down for a kiss; “we’re currently naked in bed together for the first—and hopefully not last—time. There’s very little that could be a turn-off right now.”

Blue eyes blinked up at Dean in surprise. “Really?”

Another kiss. “Really.” And then a grin and, “you weren’t kidding when you said you did research.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Cas agreed. One hand reached to grab the lube again and he inspected it for a breath before he held it up for Dean to take. “So…?”

Dean chuckled and plucked the lubricant from his fingers. He kissed Cas again—then once more for good measure—before easing back and sitting up. He shuffled his way down the bed a little, then patted at one of Cas’s legs. “I think… if you have your knees up and apart, it’ll work the best.” He let Cas adjust himself accordingly before asking, “how many fingers?”

Cas bit his lip, feeling more than a little exposed at the moment. “Um, start with one. Obviously.” He said, hips shifting awkwardly and only half-hard now, “but the general consensus seems to be at least three. But. In stages.”

“Three.” Dean’s eyes flickered from his hand to between Cas’s legs and he swallowed slightly. “Okay.”

“Just… go slow and use lots of lube. I think.”

“Right.”

It started out awkward, with Dean using probably too much lube and then oh so carefully easing one finger into Cas’s body, slow and steady, then starting to carefully push it in and out of him. Cas swallowed thickly and flung an arm over his eyes, mostly to hide the flaming blush that had overtaken his entire face. Dean kept asking if he was okay and he kept assuring the other boy that he was, of course, it just felt weird.

Adding the second finger changed things. Suddenly there was a stretch and a burn—but a pleasant stretch and burn, one that flared up his spine and made his cock twitch and start to fill out properly again. Cas bit his lip to stifle a little groan—and Dean caught on that immediately, a pleased smirk stretching across his face. He started moving his fingers a little faster and a little deeper.

And then he accidentally brushed against Cas’s prostate for the first time, just slightly.

Cas jolted, and yelped out a shocked cry, his arm flying away from his face and down to grab at the bedcovers.

Dean looked up, eyebrows lifting, and grinned.

“Shut up.” Cas gasped out, even though Dean hadn’t actually said anything. “Don’t stop.”

Of course Dean kept going. Over the course of the next few minutes, he managed to work up to three fingers and reduce Cas to a panting, writhing mess and it was so. Goddamn. Satisfying. He was hard again, now, too, just from watching Cas, his own cock throbbing against his stomach. And he had a pretty good idea of where that spot was inside the other boy, now, he could reliably hit it most times he tried, even if he wasn’t completely sure what it was called.

Finally, Cas arched his back and waved one hand down toward Dean, pulling at the blankets with the other. “D-Dean—that’s enough—oh, God—you’ve got to stop or I’ll—please—!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean pulled his hand back and hurriedly grabbed for the box of condoms, pulling one out and ripping it open, rolling it over his aching dick. Then he settled himself between Cas’s legs—and paused, leaning down to bump their foreheads together. “Last chance to back out.”

But Cas just shook his head and tipped his chin to kiss Dean almost desperately. “No way.”

Dean gave a breathless laugh—and then pushed himself into Cas’s now-pliant body.

Both of them just kind of… stopped, once Dean was fully seated, each taking a deep, shuddering breath because—oh God, it felt so damned good. Then they were moving again, Cas to wrap his legs around Dean’s hips and Dean to start thrusting into the younger boy, hard and deep.

Dean buried his face in the crook of Cas’s neck, panting, and Cas did much the same, pressing messy kisses along Dean’s shoulder in between gasps and moans, his arms around his boyfriend, fingers digging little furrows into the back of Dean’s shoulders.

And Dean was good at this, Cas decided distantly as pleasure thrummed through him, flared up his spine and tingled in his limbs, made his vision go starry—meanwhile Dean was thinking much the same; Cas was fantastic, felt perfect against him, around him, with him.

It didn’t really last long, though, especially with Dean’s pace and Cas’s inexperience. Soon enough, Cas was grabbing harder at Dean’s back, throwing his head back against the pillows and crying out loudly as he came—and Dean followed soon after, his hips jerking out of rhythm a few times before he shoved deep and tensed, coming hard with a low grunt.

Then Dean slumped down over him, and Cas lowered his legs back to the mattress, loosening his grip on the older boy with a breathless little laugh.

“We’re laughing?” Dean asked, just as breathless, muffled into Cas’s shoulder.

“We’re laughing.” Cas confirmed and slid one hand up to thread his fingers through Dean’s sweat damp hair. “I just… wow. That’s all.”

Dean grinned against Cas’s skin and tipped his head to kiss at the crook of his neck. “Yeah.” He agreed, “that sums it up nicely.”

-- --

In the morning, Dean woke up to the sun streaming through the window, soft sheets, a comfortable pillow and the smell of perking coffee. Good perking coffee. Not the shitty motel stuff. It was like waking up in Heaven.

Then came the gentle touches against his back, fingers tracing the edges of his muscles and scars, a palm sliding warmly against his skin. A smile tugged at Dean’s lips, and he murmured something unintelligible before cracking his eyes open finally and rolling over onto his other side to face Cas, Cas’s hand dragging the entire way.

The other boy had his other arm tucked under the pillow, his head resting there, and his eyes were the bluest of blue in the early sunlight. Cas smiled at him with just the faintest edge of shyness—but when Dean leaned forward for a kiss, he returned it unabashedly.

“Cas, you…” The words were whispered like a secret between them, even though there was no one else in the room—or even in the house; “last night was incredible, I’ve never… I mean. I’ve been with people before. Girls. But you were… you are…” Shaking his head, Dean glanced down, almost embarrassed, “you’re amazing.”

“So are you.” Cas’s lips quirked and he admitted, “I saw stars.”

Dean laughed at that, “were you looking at the ceiling?” He teased.

But Cas shook his head, even as Dean was angling for another kiss. “No, it was all you. And before you ask? I don’t regret a thing.”

“You really are beautiful, you know.” Dean murmured against his lips, making Cas laugh softly and kiss him again. “What? I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Cas brought his wandering hand up to cup Dean’s jaw. “But look who’s talking.”

Dean hummed and turned his head to kiss against Cas’s palm. “I guess you can have your opinions.”

“And you yours.” Cas agreed, then smiled again, this time almost shy once more; “I didn’t have nightmares last night, with you here. I…” Glancing down, he murmured softly, “you’re my dreamcatcher, I guess.”

Dean regarded him fondly and tipped his head to kiss against Cas’s forehead. “I’m glad.”

“Stay over every night?” Cas asked, only half-joking.

“I wish.” Dean leaned back and stretched until his back popped, making a satisfied noise afterward. “I haven’t slept that good in ages, either.”

Cas’s little smile widened, and he watched Dean quietly for a moment before reaching out to touch one of Dean’s scars, a small one by his clavicle. “What’s this from?” He asked softly.

“Got shot.” Dean shrugged, “about a year ago. It doesn’t hurt anymore or anything.”

“Who shot you?”

“Someone bad. Doesn’t really matter. I survived, that’s the important thing.”

Cas considered that for a moment before deciding to just accept it for what it was. Dean obviously didn’t really want to talk about it. So, he just changed the topic: “I woke up before you, so I made coffee. Do you want some?”

Dean perked considerably at that. “Oooooh yes, black as a moonless night!”

Cas snorted a laugh and shoved at Dean’s shoulder but climbed out of bed regardless. He was already dressed-ish from his foray down to the kitchen to get the coffee going, just a pair of boxers and—

“Hey, is that my shirt?” Dean pushed up on his elbows, regarding Cas with surprise.

The younger boy shrugged with one shoulder. He looked down at the AC/DC shirt he was wearing blandly. “I couldn’t find mine in the mess we made last night, so I borrowed it. You can have it back later. Why is your shirt about batteries, anyway?”

“Batteries?!” Dean sputtered, but before he could get any farther than that, Cas had already disappeared out the door, heading downstairs for coffee. He padded around barefoot, pouring two mugs of the stuff (an expensive brand his Father insisted on keeping in the house) and then doctoring his own with cream and sugar, though he left Dean’s black as requested.

Then he turned the coffee pot off and carefully made his way back up to the bedroom, where Dean had finished having his fit over the shirt, and bumped the door closed with his hip when he entered, crossing over and handing Dean his mug before gingerly climbing back into the bed with his own.

Dean obviously thoroughly enjoyed his first sip, which made Cas smile around the lip of his mug. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You have no idea the kind of crap I’m forced to drink on the road, Cas. No idea.” The older boy took another drink, humming out a happy noise, then paused, green eyes flicking up to Cas again, “so. You did the… research, right?” He asked, “that… spot. Inside you. That made you… jerk and moan the way you did…”

“My prostate,” Cas murmured around the lip of his mug, “or at least I’m pretty sure, anyway.”

“What does it… feel like?”

Oh, God, how was he even supposed to explain this? Cas swallowed slightly and busied himself taking another couple drinks from his coffee, hedging for time. “It feels…” He trailed off before trying again; “it’s like electric pleasure, shooting up my spine. Like you’re touching some livewire inside me and—God, Dean, it feels—” Breaking off, he shook his head and managed, “it’s so hard to explain. I’ve never felt anything like it. It feels so good. So good it almost hurts.”

Dean was watching him, obviously fascinated, but a little surprised as well. “That good? Really?”

“Yes, I…” Cas nodded, eyes on his coffee now, “when I was looking things up online, it all said it would feel good, but I was not prepared for... I mean. Just. Wow. And you are really good at finding it.”

Dean gave him a little, self-satisfied smirk. “Natural talent?” He suggested.

Cas laughed softly, sipping at his coffee for another moment before asking, “hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

He hummed softly and lifted his gaze to look at Dean intently. “I think we should have sex again.” He informed his boyfriend, before continuing; “for science. To make sure it’s still as good as it was last night.”

Dean nearly choked on his coffee, sputtering a little. “Yeah,” He croaked finally, “we could do that, definitely.”

Cas muffled another small laugh and offered, “I think it turns out I’m ‘just another horny teenage boy’, too, especially now that I know what it’s like. I feel like my Father would be disappointed in me.”

But Dean was already setting his half-empty mug of coffee on the side table and reaching to take Cas’s cup from his hands to set it out of the way as well. “Pretty sure he’s aware you’re a teenage boy,” He informed Cas. “Now, c’mere.”

Dean didn’t get back to Sam and the motel until after dinner time. Sam would probably never let him live it down.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfiction #spn #shut up sena #sena writes #horror high by senashenta

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overheaven · 8 months

Text

hhnnnnn

MFA program interview tomorrow (it's almost 4am now so technically today but shh)

honestly. i think i’m more nervous about what will happen if i'm accepted this time than the interview itself. the interview... i've been through it once, & my interviewing skills are good if i say so myself. but idk until last wednesday i had more or less accepted the idea that an mfa wasn't meant for me in this lifetime. i still WANTED it but i accepted that i might not get it— who do i get rec letters from 2, 5, 10 years down the line, when i’ve likely been just in the workforce and not a community that could speak to my art & study skills? what do i put in my portfolio if i’m too disabled to get out & find studios & make the art i’d want to create a graduate thesis out of?

but now i've got this opportunity and like. yeah you can be cynical about it & say they're filling a quota or maybe this is their M/O every year to bait more applicants & inflate numbers… but idk i’m trying to stop those suspicious, paranoid thoughts because they’re based in insecurity & hurt.

when a dept. head emails me the day before the deadline and says 'we were looking at past applicants and invite you to apply again; just reuse your previous application' and they offer me an interview the day after i send that and a few new materials, i need to think ‘yeah there's something in my art that they want. that the world wants.’ i do make good art, art that does what i need it to do. and i have worked SO hard. i know what i’m doing and what i want.

plus i got waitlisted last time so i was this close 🤏 i’m not going to be cocky but it sounds like a have a good chance this time. i think about how i got into RISD for undergrad i just couldn’t afford it. i got into RISD! one of THE most illustrious art schools in the damn country! only about 17-19% acceptance rate!!! my portfolio was good enough for that!!!!!

so if given this opportunity i will seize it because i have to. i will be grinding myself to dust while i’m there, i’m sure. i’m still spent from the last 4 years, but i am a fighter and i will claw my way through with torn nails and broken teeth if i need to. i’d rather do that right now while the iron is not exactly hot but still workable rather than wait for a nebulous “someday” or never get it at all. if i get it done now, school can be completely totally DONE for me. there’s nothing above a masters for fine art.

and i feel really good about giving this second chance at this MFA program everything i’ve got, without over analyzing or second guessing because my gf has given me a really stable life and we have a whole plan of where we wanna be for the next few years at least. i have a job too! a pretty ideal one for someone like me!! there is a LIFE waiting for me if i get rejected. i’m not hinging on this for student loans to live on and a reprieve from work that was making me suicidal.

but like. yeah i’ve been having a cart before the horse thing. i'm really scared of the idea of 2 more years of study while being away from a more permanent home precisely because we are so ready & prepared for stability and being somewhere that’s not temporary. i don’t wanna be in transition anymore! i want a home and a place to rest!! i want to stay in therapy! i want to go to doctors and fix my body!

but if i need to, i will.

opportunities have always been stolen from me, by circumstance & finances, having no support. i’ve never been in control of my life. i want to capture this one if it lays down in front of me. i really do deserve it.

and tbh i think it will be somewhat easier because it is just art and some TA stuf. undergrad was agonizing because i was trying to put together senior projects and manage portfolios while also having to fucking write busywork 1-2 page essays every week in each of my other classes and writing manuscripts and being the one to manage group project email chains and scheduling because the 18-20 year old students don’t like to just get shit done. i don’t want to say i’m better than students who went to art colleges but i am built different LOL

#pangs complains #going in circles… i gotta go to bed

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justkending · 2 years

Text

Moral of the Story. Chapter 20.

Series Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N

Word Count: 1900+

A/N: It’s back!! I’ve finally sat down and got another chapter out! I think there may be one to two more chapters for this series. Sorry it’s shorter, but I promise it’s works. Love you all and sorry for my long leave of absence!

Chapter Nineteen:

The rest of the food truck festivities were fun and lively. The group tested out new foods and exchanged when the flavor wasn’t right for one or the other. Conversations and old banter was had.

Overall it was a great way to end the week with each other.

However the night did have to end. The girls had school the next day and Bucky and Steve had work. Then of course, it was Y/N’s last full day making tomorrow mainly a travel day.

When the girls returned home, Tom and Sherri did a movie night like old times when they would spend time in the mountain house.

Sherri would make the popcorn. Tom would create a small fort on the floor for the girls to lay on, while he and Sherri took the couch behind them. Of course the stash of M&M’s for special nights like this were scattered throughout the freshly popped corn in a big bowl between Chloe and Y/N.

And lastly, the movie that both families bonded over when first meeting. Clue.

They were a murder mystery family. Tom had shown Y/N the I Survived series when he discovered it and she introduced him to criminal minds.

On Tom and Sherri’s first date, the topic of an old haunted building they were passing on their walk brought up and old mob murder. Of course after that, the conversation rarely strayed from the little knowledgeable facts about different cases and serial killers. The two instantly hit it off with an entertaining little interest.

Then of course with only a DVD and VHS player at the cabin, Clue from 1985 was a family favorite and eventual tradition.

_____________________

The next morning, Y/N got up early wanting to soak up every last minute she had in her childhood home. Around 6:30 Chloe came downstairs and was about to make breakfast when she saw Y/N made a bowl of oatmeal for the two.

A smile on her face as Y/N grinned offering the bowl with freshly cut fruit and almonds scattering the top.

“You’re 100% positive you have to go back so soon?” Chloe asked, taking the dish.

“No one is 100% anything. But… This is about 99% though. I’ve missed more work this week than I have my entire time working there I’m pretty sure,” Y/N shrugged, grabbing a spoon and handing it off. “But I promise I’m going to make more of an effort to come out here more. I’ve seen just how much I’ve missed from making work one of my top priorities. I don’t care for it much.”

“I guess I can come to terms with that…” Chloe sighed. “But I’m not 100%.”

Y/N chuckled at the remark and Chloe and her had one last sister hang out session before Chloe packed and left for school.

Thomas was the next to come in, going straight for the coffee maker which Y/N had already had a pot going.

“You’re up earlier than I expected.”

“I wanted to say bye to Chloe before she left. That and I couldn't sleep much knowing today is going to be mainly a travel day.”

“Understandable,” Thomas nodded, pouring the near to black liquid in his cup before turning, blowing on it, and taking a sip. “Hmmm, that’s a good pot.”

“Thanks. I was in charge of the coffee pot for the beginning of our business and I guess I mastered putting coffee grounds into a filter,” she laughed.

“Don’t tell Sherri I said this, but sometimes she waters it down too much. I don’t say anything though.”

“Smart move on your end.”

There was a moment of silence as the two quietly enjoyed their cup of joe and the peace that was the early morning in Brooklyn.

“What time is your flight?”

“Noon. I should be back in California by eight tonight,” she sighed and a look of heartache flitted across her face.

“You don’t sound too enthused about that. Is it because it’ll be late or…” he left room for her to fill in the details.

She smiled and looked up at him knowing he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I miss it here,” she said softly.

“We miss you here too,” he smiled back, walking up to the counter opposite of her. “But there are always flights available. And lucky for you, you have Natasha who knows how to score a sweet deal in the airline business.”

“Yeah,” she hummed, knowing it may have sounded that easy, but realistically it wasn’t.

“Don’t worry, Bug. We will make it work. We always do,” he walked around pulling her into a side hug.

“I know,” she smiled sadly this time, burrowing into her side.

_________________________

Since all her friends in Brooklyn were at work, she wasn’t able to say bye in person, so she sent a quick text on the ride to the airport saying she hoped to be back in town soon to see them. And that they were more than welcome to come visit and stay in her guest room in L.A. if need be.

The only person she was hesitant to text was Bucky. Sure they had made up quite a bit for a week of reconnecting, but something felt weird still about texting him goodbye.

So she continued to procrastinate on it, not sure how to send that text.

Sherri and Thomas dropped Y/N off at the airport, said their goodbyes, gave long and tearful hugs, and she was on her way to security.

The line was long as expected, but luckily she got in early to prepare for the traffic.

She had moved about three steps since getting in line when she heard a shouting down the way.

“Y/N!”

She furrowed her eyebrows. Did she hear it right?

“Y/N!”

There must have been another person with her name.

“Everest!”

Ok, very unlikely that someone went by that.

She turned, trying to peer over the tall men and women in line, but the place was too crowded to see anyone.

But the voice got closer.

“Excuse me. Excuse me. Sorry!”

“Buck?” she mumbled, standing on her tiptoes seeing a hint on dark brown shaggy hair maneuvering through people.

“I promise I’m not trying to cut. I don’t even have a flight. I’m just trying to get to someone.”

There were a few groans and passive okays as they allowed him through. About 5 people back, she saw his face clearly.

“Bucky? What the hell?” she said confused, but couldn’t hold back the small start of a smile on her lips.

“Hey!” he shouted happy to finally see her. “Excuse me,” he said a few more times, moving through the crowd.

“Watch it man,” an angry business man grunted.

“Sorry!” he apologized before coming face to face with Y/N. “Hey.” His words were out of breath, but the nervous smile on his face showed he didn’t regret his actions.

“Hey,” she chuckled back.

No words were muttered for the next few seconds and Y/N shook her head trying to come up with a reason for this surprise.

“I wanted to say bye before you left,” he said, slightly still breathless. Unlikely from the urgency and more from the nerves.

“Is that so?” she smirked.

“I’m now realizing this may have been a touch of a stretch,” he laughed under his breath uncomfortably while looking around at the somewhat frustrated travelers he had just pushed his way through.

“Maybe a touch,” she laughed.

“It’s also starting to look a lot more cliche than I was planning on it to…”

“Definitely more than a touch on that one,” she nodded, looking back and seeing the line had moved again.

Bucky and her both stepped forward with it.

“I thought I would catch you before you left, but when I got to your house, no one answered, so I put two and two together and realized you were probably already here. At first, I was just going to walk away and send you a text, but… I don’t know. Didn’t feel right,” he shrugged slightly.

“Running through a crowd of strangers impatiently waiting to go through security in a busy airport did seem right though?” she grinned in a sassy manner.

He couldn’t help the laugh that came out hearing just how ridiculous it sounded put into words now.

“Guess so.” He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

Another long pause as the awkwardness of the situation set in. He was there now, but he didn’t plan this far.

“So…” Y/N mumbled, fidgeting with her suitcase.

“Right. Well I guess I just came here to say bye really…”

“Ok,” she nodded. “Bye then?” A part of her was pushing her to make the move, but being still in shock at the whole situation, she wasn’t sure what move that was.

Lucky for her, he fell into his impulse and pulled her into a hug.

She hesitated at first, mainly in surprise, but eventually hugged him back tightly.

It wasn’t a normal farewell hug either. It was one full of apologies, sorrow, and forgiveness. They held onto each other for a while soaking in the nostalgia of what their relationship used to feel like until the man behind him cleared his throat. The line had moved and reality set back in that there were at least 50 people behind them waiting to carry on with their day.

Bucky pulled back and looked down at her as they moved with the line some more.

“Bye I guess,” he said softly.

“Bye Barnes,” she smiled.

They held eye contact for a bit before Bucky spilled his next question.

“You’ll come back to visit more, right?”

She grinned at the childlike hope in his inquiry.

“Of course.”

“Good. I know a lot of people are going to want to see you again,” he nodded, stepping back some.

“You on that list Barnes?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“Would you be ok with that?” he asked cautiously.

“More than ok with it,” she replied.

“Then add me to it,” he beamed.

“Next!”

How she got to the front of the line already, she wasn’t sure, but it was time.

“Until next time, Everest,” he smiled, stepping out of line and walking backwards.

“Until next time,” she saluted. “Bye Bucky.”

There it was. The name and connection they used to have was back.

He wasn’t able to turn and walk away until she was long gone through the security line and he could no longer see her.

It looked better and better with how things were going to work out for the two now.

Tags are closed for this series. Please turn on notifications if you would like updates:)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624 @leyannrae @lonerlovescompany @jessyballet @angstysebfan @tita127 @youcanbethebeauty @im-a-light-child @alyssahowden @studiesinspanish @natyvwe @rebekahdawkins @fanfictionjunkie1112 @millennial-teenybopper @scotlandasshole @aquariusbarnes @shinykoalacat @wayward-river @buckyswillows @natdrunk @iloveangstposts @fanngirl19 @seybox

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @torayuri777 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu

#moral of the story #justkending moral of the story #bucky barnes x highschool sweetheart #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky buchanan #bucky barnes series avenger #bucky barnes series au #bucky barnes series #justkending

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gatheryourpearls · 1 year

Text

Okay, Boo. This is it. This will be my final entry to you in this home...your last home we shared together. We have scoured every inch of this place and stalled so we can stay here longer, as though we were hoping that if we just waited a little longer you might just come through the door...like a child, we wait. Sat on the floor of the Master in complete silence...a silence so loud, that those who have been touched by grief can only understand.

We love you, my sweet boy. We love and miss you so much. I can't even fathom how much greater my grief, and love, if I had known you your whole life. But,...you knew. You knew it would only take a little while for me to fall in love with you.

This was our last home with you completing our little unit. Now, it's just four walls, barren with any belongings or personal remnants. But we lay here still. Because this little apartment now serves as the proxy to you. We think, foolishly, that if we just maintained access to this place, we'd have access to you. Where you last yin-yang'd with your sister...where you last did a good "stand" for a treat. Where we last celebrated your birthday.... where you chose the "vote" cupcake just for me...

We will miss you always and think of you often. I can't count the times that I sat in my office chair crying in silence as I cried out to you, professing how much I missed you. This will be the last time I'll see the space where I would carefully get out of the bed so as to not step on you...even though you had already passed and in your place was a collection of empty cushion mats.

This is it. We love you so much...and I know you know that. I hope that God let's an angel convey this message to you. That we love you, will never forget you, and will try our best to live fully... until we see you again.

I'll keep writing you, as long as it's helpful. I hope you're living fully, uninhibited by pain or us. I hope you run zoomies around God's couch.

Thank you for being a great --just THE BEST--older brother to Luna. She misses you too. Can you let us know you're okay and doing well?

We hope you enjoyed this first home... and that you remember it as fondly as we do. I'm trying so hard not to forget the details...so I recorded the funny moments....and the last moments with you. It was hard to film.

But I know and believe you are always with us.. that you're not attached to any physical place. Just as it's always been, your place has always been next to us.

I love you sweet Boo.

Why does closing this chapter feel so hard? So bittersweet? So unequivocally final?

Funny thing is... the finality of it all is no longer up for debate....but it was easy to pretend when nothing else changed. Being never able to walk these grounds again is so... heart wrenching that it can send me into a spiral. It's like trying to tighten your grip around water....it's fighting a losing battle.

Also...as an aside... did you ever know pawps and my full name? I wonder what you did know about us....

Remember when you visited me at grad school with pawps? We left you in the rest room while we went out and I'm so sorry for that. There were so many dog friendly places, we should have taken you. You were the best dog too! We had nothing to worry about.

As you can see...I'm stalling again.. I fear that if I end this post I'll lose you all over again.....so I keep writing...

But all i really need to say is simple: I love you, Boomer. I'll miss you always. You will always be my little boy. I'm sorry for all the times I've lost my temper. I'm sorry we held on longer than was comfortable for you. Thank you for loving Luna and immediately seeing her as one of your own. I'm sorry we didn't trust your instincts sooner.

I can't believe you're gone....I can't believe this is it. The day has come. We will be turning in the keys tomorrow...and then our new chapter starts. I promise we will find ways to incorporate you while also respecting your passing.

I love love love you, Boo. I always have, since that first snack....since that first collar... since that first ridiculous coat I got you. I love you.

This is not a goodbye because I know you're with us and will cheering us on, pain free and happy.

I love you sweet boy.

You are so smart, you are so kind, you are so handsome. Sending kisses and cuddles to heaven.

Here's the last picture of your tree...the one that saw us through the joy of having you and the grief of losing you.

#poem #poetry #original poem #prose #taylor swift #grief #pet loss #dogs #original poetry #mental health

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sailorchiron · 2 years

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Life Update:

I decided the only way to get out of the hole I was in emotionally was to get the fuck out of California because I couldn’t afford rent anymore. I have always wanted to live in Santa Fe, so I picked up my life and moved here in July. I’m pretty broke, still behind on bills, but my job is A LOT less stressful and I have time to get enough sleep now and still have a life. I’m starting to feel creative again. I wanted to learn how to make custom content for The Sims 4, and I just posted a bunch of custom paintings. I (finally) organized all of my fabric and craft supplies so I can start sewing again, and hopefully reopen my Etsy store (I make bjd clothes). I’m not going to be getting any new dolls this year, I’m just too strapped for cash, but that’s actually okay. Until I have more money, I can’t upgrade my doll storage and I don’t have room for a single other doll right now. Tomorrow I want to completely clean out all of my doll stuff and organize it. I still eventually want to be a clinical supervisor for a speech-language pathology master’s program, I REALLY want it to be at University of New Mexico which is a doable commute from here if I only work part time down there. My birthday is next Friday (the 13th) and I’ll be 46. I’d like to be a clinical supervisor by the time I’m 50. This year I’m working from home in a district in California, but because I’m a contractor and paid only for hours worked, I don’t get paid for school holidays at all, and it’s just not sustainable. I love working from home, I love that if I’m super tired I can lay down when I have a break, and I love my coworkers, but I plan to try to get a position in Santa Fe public schools next year. My credit is trash, but I’ve made peace with it because I needed this year to just relax and not be miserable. I’ve been miserable for so long and just needed a fucking break. Even though I don’t actually know anyone here, I’m so relaxed and happy. I feel like I fit here, and these are my people. I’m hoping to get involved in the community next year when I’m more settled in. I’m really passionate about Native American culture and want to support any way I can. I’m experiencing a horrible flare of guttate psoriasis and cannot get a dermatologist to answer the freakin’ phone to get meds. I’m dying, I look horrible, my entire body hurts and itches. But I’m still so much better than I was when I was living in San Diego. This place moves at a slower pace, there are no freeways, everything is less than 20 minutes away, and people don’t show up at Target in $300 of Lululemon to shop while carrying a Michael Kors purse. Not everyone is thin and I’ve only seen 1 gym anywhere near my house. The vibe here is so chill. I love it.

TL;DR I might have the ability to write again.

#personal #santa fe #mental health #health

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ussygussymy · 2 years

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Found You || Euntae Lee (V)

“I don’t understand.”

Jihyun brushed her eyebrows back with her thumb and middle finger in exasperation for the third time that afternoon. It was a Sunday, there was school tomorrow, and Daniel Park would be transferring soon. In the midst of all these sappy reunions, Jihyun had an actual job she was supposed to be doing, watch Daniel Park. Gun out right refused to tell her why, she supposed Daniel must have been one of the experiments. Yet, she couldn’t crack why she was being asked to carry out the job, perhaps they were testing her abilities.

Looking back at Vasco, Jihyun attempted to explain again. “I can’t join the Burn Knuckles because I want to get into a good university.” Nevermind the fact that Jihyun had already completed the University aspect and had been in the course of getting her masters when this monitoring business started. Jihyun had to lay low and joining a gang was not ideal to her already notable position as the only girl in the architecture department.

Once again confused, “But we protect, we are not bad.”

“But you guys are a crew regardless, I can’t have that on my record.” Jihyun argued, hoping to end the conversation.

“Does that mean I won’t get into a good school?”

The question caught Jihyun off guard, ‘Vasco I worry about your chances of getting into university without factoring in the Burn Knuckles.’ she thought. Mustering up the most convincing smile she could, Jihyun spoke, “No, you still have a chance.” As sweat dripped down her temple, Jihyun reasoned in her head, ‘Might as well give you hope Vasco.’

A relieved smile appeared on Vasco’s face upon hearing the lie. “Thank you Jihyun.”

— —

Entering the cafeteria that day, Jihyun had one goal in mind, find Daniel Park. Rumors had already begun to start circulating about him around school, mostly about his fighting abilities. With that, it was time to start paying close attention, he had the potential to be one of her rivals.

Yet something strange occurred, walking by next to Vasco and Jace, Daniel called out, “H…Hey!!” From what Jihyun could observe he was calling out to Vasco with a starry eyed look on his face. This began a series of questions in Jihyuns head as to how the two even got introduced to each other. Yet, what was even stranger was that Vasco himself did not recognize the kid. Jihyun narrowed her eyes at the interaction, where could he, what she assumed was an average Daniel Park, had gotten information on Vasco so abruptly. Perhaps he was another genius like Jihyun after all.

“That’s the new guy. Maybe he’s picking a fight.” Jace whispered next to Vasco. While she didn’t necessarily think he was picking a fight, Jihyun was interested to see where this interaction could potentially lead, allowing her to further assess Daniel Park's abilities.

“Ah..hey..” Daniel Park greeted again, this time starting to sweat. Maybe they had met and Vasco had simply forgotten, Jihyun reasoned seeing his reaction.

“Who are you? You know me?” Vasco questioned with a menacing aura. Continuing his myriad of questions, “You. You’ve never been taken down, huh?” Placing the death grip upon Daniels shoulder, “Even if you’re good-looking and strong..Don’t screw around.”

Yet, something strange happened when Daniel Park was afflicted by the squeeze of death. Daniel calmy gripped Vasco’s tattood wrist and moved it, a feat in and of itself. “S..sorry..” Daniel uttered.

“Sorry if I bothered you. I thought you were someone else.” Daniel continued. Jihyun sharpened her gaze, either he was an excellent actor or he did not fully understand how much strength his body contained and both were unfortunately as equally likely conclusions. Having seen enough to come to a decision, Jihyun decided it was time to intervene. Exchanging a glance and a nod with Jace, she stepped up to the bat.

Putting on an oscar worthy performance, Jihyun acted her ass off de-escalating the situation. “You thought he was someone else? Haha, he does look pretty generic doesn’t he.” Jihyun grinned.

“Uh, yeah sorry.” Daniel spoke, looking relieved that he was no longer having to deal with the awkward confusion.

“It happens! Your name's Daniel right? What if I offered you a tour around school for the trouble.” Jihyun grinned maniacally behind her facade. Perfect! She’d killed two birds with one stone.

Reluctantly Daniel agreed. From behind, Jihyun could feel Vasco’s stare singing her flesh, ‘Sorry Vasco, but I have to handle my job now.’

Vasco looked back to Jiho, “Hey little guy.. Don’t surrender to guys like that. Believe in yourself.” From beside him Jace called, “Hey, shut up and let's go eat.” “Ok. What's the menu?”

With the architecture department gone, Jihyun began to lead Daniel down the halls, albeit getting a few stares from the school.

— —

“So Danny..Can I call you that? Is Danny fine?” Jihyun barely looked back to Daniel for confirmation before continuing.

“Where’d you move from?” The question was innocent enough, it was the mark of only a mildly nosy student, a completely average question.

“Oh.. I come from a little ways around here.” Daniel answered absentmindedly, taking a look at the gymnasium.

Jihyun noted his response, he answered with the swiftness of someone hoping to evade questions into his identity. Her eyes lit up making that connection.

“Why’d you move here?” Again, an innocent question from an innocent student.

This time around, Jihyun couldn’t help but grin at Daniel's response. She scrutinized every action, the stammer in his voice to gap in conversation as Daniel produced a lie.

“..Uh.. uhm.. I really enjoy fashion so I wanted to join a tech school and this was the only one around.”

“Is that so? Same here, really passionate about architecture.”

Just before Daniel could respond, the bell wrung, signaling it was time to get back to class. From the look on Daniels face, it seemed he was relieved to be out of it. As he walked back, Jihyun kept her eyes on him, perhaps her assignment also included uncovering whatever unholy secret Daniel was very obviously hiding.

— —

“Huh? A chocolate milk? Thanks Vasco.” Jihyun took the carton being handed to her whilst she was walking back home from school with Jace and Vasco.

“I got it off the street.” he uttered. Jihyun spit the chocolate milk she’d already drunk out her mouth.

“Why would you get me spoiled milk?! Do you even know how long it was left out there?!”

Upon looking at the sad expression on Vasco’s face, she begrudgingly drank the rest of the chocolate milk.

With curiosity, Jace asked, “Jihyun, why’d you give Daniel a tour?”

“As a sorry mostly, he's not a bad kid.” Jihyun answered relatively quickly, she couldn’t reveal the truth. Seemingly able to accept the answer, Jace dropped it.

Sighing inwardly, Jihyun continued to sip on her chocolate milk. Directly questioning Daniel was cutting it too close and raised too much suspicion, she’d need another scapegoat into the fashion departments world and she’d already locked her eyes on who it was. Starting tomorrow, she’d be targeting Mira.

— —

Blurb time

“..Jihyun..” a voice whispered beside her, yet the plea was ignored. Jihyun was too immersed in mining bitcoin or whatever it is smart people do.

“...Jihyun..” again it was the incessant voice of Vasco.

“What!” Jihyun snap whispered back, “I was hacking webkinz pages to scam children out of money!”

“How do you spell orange?”

A single tear rolled down Jihyuns cheek.

— —

This was so avante garde slay of me

#euntae lee #lookism #vasco #jace park

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nathank77 · 3 months

Text

6/12/24

8:38 p.m Edited/Added to

So I woke up at 3:30 p.m. I struggled to sleep for at least a hour. I also had my heart rate go crazy with palpitations for like 3 minutes solid. I guess i had a panic attack.

I was worried I was going to have to take Benadryl and then that wouldn't work and I'd have to smoke pot. Thankfully I fell asleep, it must have been before 8:12 a.m. that's when my sleep timer was going to turn off my tv. And I didn't hear American dad randomly just stop... but I really struggled. The day after the 1mg is always terrible.

I had weird dreams where I didn't sleep again. I know I had them bc I know I didnt hear American dad turn off and the chanty happy birthdays would have made me turn the tv back on. That's the only way I could have distinguished reality versus my trauma dreams.

I woke up at 2:30. I had to pee. I tried to hold it and I realized I wasn't going to sleep if I did. So I peeded and I actually fell back to sleep until 3:30 p.m. not immediately but the hour went by too fast for me to just be laying there with my eyes closed... I didn't take drugs that's an accomplishment.

I also a couple mental pictures with auditory hallucinations..... at like 2:30.. I don't remember them I don't want to. They suck.

I woke up at 3:30 went for bloodwork. My thyroid test was not there just my comprehensive metabolic Panel. I almost left cause it's useless without getting my thyroid levels pulled but luckily she found an older order and we got both. I'm awaiting results.

I went shopping after and grabbed water despite not really needing it cause I would have needed it next week and I'm still waiting on the ethics case. The two assholes weren't there but I recorded everything. I talked to the camera. Had it watch me tear open my pack. Had it watch me put back together the pack I didn't buy. I even counted my pack and the pack I put back. I was obvious and obnoxious. I took out the crunchy water bottles and showed how my hands got wet cause the products are damaged and this is why I started doing it in the first place. I made a fucking show of it. I got a 17 minute video. I really will make this national for being discriminated against for being mentally ill and of color. Don't think I won't fight for myself Walmart.

Then I went to stop and shop and bjs. And I should be able to avoid going out until next Wednesday for food but it depends... I want to do the car wash Saturday. If the weather changes then I won't.... and I'll grab a chicken. That's the only downside of not going grocery shopping Friday or Saturday. Friday I'm playing silent hill. Saturday I'm either getting the car wash or going for chicken..

Sunday is father's day... I'm planning to go obv. I just have no money for a card. I'll plan another me day for the 18th. I'm trying to cut out game days for a reason.

I got my graduation frame and I'm going to hang up my bachelor's and masters tonight. Then shower. I also got l salivarius I'll start that tonight with my cheese snack. Other than that Maybe before I shower I may go to the attic and grab my addias shorts and boxers. I'm going to do laundry tomorrow cause it accumulated fast.

I'm really lonely. I'm just trying to stay busy. The one thing I hate about my degrees are the two different names. My masters is my current name. My bachelor's is the long one I changed bc it was too long... I want to get reprints of both with Nathan Blanchette. No middle cause we all know imma change my name again anyways.

As much as my hallucination ruined the name Nathan. There is always Nate and I can ask people to call me Dexter. I got to call my old schools to see if they'll reprint my degrees eventually but that's not really on my list yet. I got get the car wash, call my endo about the standing monthly thyroid test, schedule the MacBook. And then it's next.

I also got to decide if going to the gym makes more sense then pursuing all this teeth shit I really can't afford. I think I'm going to move on it. I might start the 17th..it makes sense with the monthly billing cycle.

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testormblog · 4 months

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Straight Draw

I didn’t inherit my father’s love of horse races. I saw Dad lose more than win. I valued the money I earnt too much to squander it so. In fact, Dad’s addiction, that was how I saw it, really irritated me as a child. He commandeered the radio every Friday night to hear which horses were listed to run that Saturday. Consequently, I missed sequential episodes of my radio stories. Then all day Saturday, he listened to the races ran in Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne. At the time, I found the race caller’s constant chatter annoying. Later as an adult, I realised my father looked forward to little else in his modest life. He worked hard labour in the heat, cold and dirt day in and day out. He earnt his time listening to the radio whilst sitting in a cool spot on the veranda.

Later Saturday evening, whilst I worked, I overheard Dad’s conversations with his mates whilst they chugged beers in Mattie’s bar. They analysed horses’ forms, their wins and losses, the qualities of the various race courses and the bookmakers’ odds. Some horses ran well on dry tracks and others on wet. Consequently, I knew everything there was to know about the sport.

When the Melbourne Cup Race approached annually, energetic discussions and an infectious air of excited anticipation invaded the bar. The men spoke of little else in the six week leadup. Twenty-four horses would line up for the most famous race in Australia and run three thousand two hundred metres, about two miles back then. Not only would the men lay bets with the local but illegal starting price (called an ‘SP’) bookmaker on the day, they bought tickets in sweeps, which popped up at businesses around the community. It seemed the only establishment not running a sweep was the church! A sweep was akin to a blind lucky dip. Lots of tickets were sold but only tickets were drawn for the number of horses in the race. The remaining tickets lost out.

The Station Master at Bethania Railway Station organised the biggest sweep around. He sold tickets for weeks ahead at two shillings each to anybody willing to cough up such an extravagant amount. By comparison, two bob usually bought you five tickets in a raffle. Nevertheless, all the local Railway men bought at least five tickets if not ten.

In 1957, this race fever caught me in its grip too. I was fourteen and wanted to join in the men’s excitement. I deliberated for several days if I should purchase one two shilling ticket. I only earnt three shillings for my Saturday morning shift at the refreshment rooms. Besides, my odds were extremely poor; one ticket versus the hundreds sold to score a horse then one horse against twenty-four to win one of the three places. Foolishly, I did buy one ticket, just one. I told nobody about my gamble and hid the ticket in my money tin.

The day before the Melbourne Cup, the Station Master drew the twenty-four horse names from all the tickets he had sold in front of a crowd of ticket holders. I wasn’t present but my father was of course. Dad arrived home miserable. He grumbled he had lucked out again and hadn’t secured a horse in the draw.

He then said, with a quizzical look on his face, ‘Jakob, you drew a horse though. It’s Straight Draw. However, the odds of it winning aren’t good. Sorry lad.’

I felt down too. I had wasted two precious shillings. That was a lesson to myself. Nevertheless, I had a horse to cheer on tomorrow.

The next day, I thought of little else. The race was scheduled to be run twenty minutes before school finished. The school had no radio so the students couldn’t listen to it. The school teacher wouldn’t have allowed this anyway. Alas, news of which horses had placed in the Cup travelled quickly. As I walked my bicycle to the school’s front gate, I heard somebody yell that Straight Draw had won the Melbourne Cup. Excitement bubbled up inside me. I had never been so excited before. I couldn’t believe my luck to score the winning ticket.

Dad walked with me to see his mate, the Station Master. Even he was beaming!

Some loitering locals weren’t impressed however that I had won the sweep. They suggested not so politely that my ticket should be disqualified because I was a minor and not legally entitled to bet.

The Station Master firmly replied, ‘The boy bought his ticket fair and square with money he earnt like everybody else.’ He then handed me a considerable amount of dosh with a broad smile.

I didn’t know it yet; but I’d need that money soon. It would help change the direction of my future. My win certainly was a miracle.

#Straight Draw #Melbourne Cup 1957 #Bethania Station Master #horse races

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

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tommybaholland · 4 years

Text

when they’re needy for their s/o’s attention

featuring: kuroo, kenma, akaashi, kageyama, and nishinoya

kuroo

he walks into the room where he sees you diligently trying to read something in one of your textbooks

he smiles bc you’re so cute and hardworking

and he almost (almost) feels bad that he’s about to ruin it

he gets closer and observes that it’s more like you’re staring at the words on the page rather than reading them

“oh, there you are, lovely. do you have a minute?”

you look at him with a dropped expression, slumping over in your chair

“babe, you’ve been in here almost all day. i think it’s time for a break.”

you tell him about the huge chapter that you have to read, annotate, and generate several questions on by tomorrow

“please, baby? i just want to show you something. you can come back in here after if you want but i wanna show you what i’ve been working on.”

you halfheartedly agree and he takes you by the hand to lead you into your room

the first thing you see when you walk in is all the pillows removed from your bed, including your stuffed animals and squishmallows

they seemed to have migrated to the floor where there was a little awning of blankets which were held up by desk chairs

“here it is! it’s a cozy, little blanket corner and it’s the perfect size for two.”

you smile and laugh a little at the craftsmanship

he had obviously put some time into this

you feel his fingertips trace over your shoulders as he wraps his arm around you

“so i thought we could watch a movie as a little break and i promise i’ll make sure you get your work done before tomorrow but you don’t have to if you feel like you want to get it done now--”

you respond by simply hugging him tightly around his waist as you thank him, telling him you love it

he smiles earnestly as he pets down your hair and rubs your back

“of course, kitten.”

he feels smug but happy that his plan had worked

because he loves getting to spend care-free time with you

kenma

less about words, more about (wholesome) actions

and therefore he’s not very subtle about wanting attention

sits down next to you as you’re doing something for school and will pout like >:| when you don’t immediately greet him or acknowledge his presence

so he decides he has to resort to drastic measures

he’s a literal cat

bumps his forehead into your shoulder multiple times until you look at him

sometimes he’ll just simply rest it there and lean into you

you feel his little forehead bumps or the weight of his head on your shoulder

and you’re like, ‘what is it, ken’

again, he doesn’t speak, he just takes your hand and places it on top of his head

the silent signal that he wants you to play with his hair

it’s, without a doubt, one of the cutest things he does

he lays his head next to your thigh as you rub over the side of his head with one hand as you continue to try to work

he’ll try to slowly inch his head to rest in your lap

it’s beginning to hinder your work time, so you suggest that he go play a game or something

*sigh* “i want to lay with you...also i already played today.”

buries his face into your tummy as he hugs you around your hips

“i’ll help you finish whatever you need later but please, can you just do that thing with my hair? i like that.”

it’s that serious

and your only choice is to surrender

so you decide to stop what you’re doing and lean back, placing both your hands in his hair, letting strands slide through your fingers

you put little braids in it like he likes

he sighs contently at the feeling, as it gives him little tingles from his scalp all the way down his spine

akaashi

he’s very discrete about wanting attention

he’ll find you on the couch, working on something on your laptop

he gets you out of the work trance momentarily to greet and kiss you sweetly on the lips

he sits down close next to you and peers over your shoulder and asks you what you’re working on

he’s interested but has no idea what you’re talking about

“sounds...complex. do you need anything? or maybe want to take a little break?”

you know the ‘do you need anything’ is just his way of saying, “it’s my turn to have your attention.”

you shake your head and tell him that you’re almost finished

“okay. can i sit here with you, baby?”

you allow him under one condition

“no, i won’t distract you. i promise.”

that promise doesn’t go very far as he inches closer to you and tries to fit himself behind you, nudging his shoulder behind yours

you eventually ask if he wants to sit behind you

he smiles softly, “yes, please. i’d like that.”

you shift around and get comfy with him now sitting behind you

“just relax and lean into me, babe. there we go. do you mind if i...play with your hair?”

even though you can tell he wants your attention, consent is still at the top of his priorities

(which makes him the sweetest boy)

fools with your hair for a bit until he brushes it all to one shoulder

“is it okay if i..kiss your neck a bit?”

it’s getting harder to concentrate with the feeling of his feather light kisses on your skin, but luckily you only have a few sentences left to write

you feel him pressing closer to you and you ask him what he’s doing

“i’m just wrapping my arms around you and holding you, baby.”

he sits quietly for a bit, holding you tightly around the waist as you finish up your assignment and close your laptop

“oh, you’re finished? do you wanna... finish that show and cuddle now?”

you nod and he grins, “yeah? okay. now, can i have a kiss?”

kageyama

this man is not known to be a master communicator alright

doesn’t really know how to express his feelings verbally :’(

so he generally tries to hide when he wants your attention

but then hinata shows him the ‘i want the cuddles’ tiktok

and at first he cringes and thinks it’s gross

“i bet your poor s/o must wish they had a boyfriend who would do that!”

“shut UP you turd licker! you’re just jealous that i’m actually in a relationship, unlike YOU >:P”

but in the back of his mind, he wishes he could be the one to do that for you

fortunately you make it very easy for him

you’ll be reading a book and he’ll come sit close to you and just kinda stare at you

you feel it on you and you ask him if everything’s okay

“what? ye- yeah, i’m fine.”

you grin, knowing something’s up and ask if he wants to be held

“no, actually-- i, uh, just, um, i wanted to hold you this time? if that’s okay?”

you’re like, ‘of course it’s okay!!’ but first you finish reading the page of your book that you’re on

once you’re done and the book is officially put down, you ask him where he wants you

he’s visibly nervous and doesn’t know how to say it so he just opens up his arms

you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him close to you and he leans back so you’re resting on his chest

his arms wrap around you and the one plays with the hem of your shirt, his fingertips occasionally brushing your skin

he lets out a content sigh at the pressure from you being on top of him

you ask him if it’s okay for him

“yes, thank you.”

he loves that he has someone as patient as you

nishinoya

in terms of level of discreteness, he’s at the bottom out of these boys

honestly will attack you if you’re not doing anything

but you’ll usually hear him before you see him so you’re prepared for the impact

he literally yells and practically jumps at you when he sees you anywhere so you’re pretty used to this very ‘noya display of affection’

and it’s no different when you’re alone

except he tries to be not as loud, especially when it looks like you’re doing something important

“hey, my sweet and gorgeous-- oh, look at you working hard. sorry, i’ll be quiet.”

he’s someone who’s the type to annoy you every five seconds, even in a quieter voice

and he asks about a million questions

“what are you doing?”

“what does that mean?”

“why do you have to do it like that?”

“haha! sounds like that time me and tanaka had to study for our english final.”

“okay, sorry, i’ll let you do your work.”

but this boy can literally not sit still either and has to change his position on the couch every minute or so

you eventually decide to get up from your seat, wanting to move to the desk where you know you’ll probably get more work done

“hey, where are you going? come back here!”

and you’re like, ‘i love you but..’

“well, maybe if you held me in place, i wouldn’t move around so much!”

you knew exactly where this was going, looking unamused

“aww, c’mon sweetheart.”

and then he starts making that ‘psppspsps’ sound like you do with cats, as if it’s going to get you to willingly go back over to him

“yeah, you’re my cat now. hahahahaha”

you just ignore him and that’s when he gets whiny, very whiny and pouty and kinda dramatic

“c’monnnnnnnnn ughhhhhhhh. please, babyyyyyyyyy i need your cuddles or i’m gonna dieeeeeeee.”

at this point, you’d just give in but there are days were you can ignore him long enough to miraculously get your work done

“are you finished yet-- oh, you are? yay!”

will either sit in your lap or pull you into him to attack your face with kisses

“let’s go get something to eat! are you hungry? i’m starving.”

hope we’re having fun on this haikyuu night! got any requests??

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo headcanon #kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma headcanon #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #akaashi headcanon #kageyama x reader #kageyama fluff #kageyama headcanon #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya headcanon #tommybaholland

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deepdarkdelights · 3 years

Text

Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you.

A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands.

You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day.

You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after.

All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch.

Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often.

If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open.

“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning.

You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure.

“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips.

“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”

But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes.

Fuck, and now you were crying again.

You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you.

It was time to start celebrating then.

You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better.

You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic.

You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection.

You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose.

You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.

You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again.

~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up.

And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead.

You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway.

Someone was in the house.

You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds.

When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger.

You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand.

Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall.

A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century.

The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths.

Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress.

“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”

“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back.

“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed.

“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.

In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler.

“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”

You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words.

“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen.

“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”

“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”

And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line.

But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?

And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees.

You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.

Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?

You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing.

You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on.

So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it.

The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago.

The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure.

In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight.

It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area.

The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come.

And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well?

But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work.

If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours.

By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself.

But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more.

You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.

You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead.

While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him.

“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”

“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone.

“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside.

“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door.

“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.”

“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club.

Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him.

He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you.

With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest.

Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare.

“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before.

Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night.

“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!

“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day.

The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help.

“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider.

You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you.

Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.

“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you.

“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were.

“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?”

“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”

“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically.

“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused.

“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated.

“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before.

No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now.

And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era.

“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt.

“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question.

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you.

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state.

But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest.

You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone.

“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you.

It was him again, the man with the dimples.

“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you.

You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone.

“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident.

“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside.

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people.

“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up.

The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.

“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation.

“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream.

“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows.

“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”

“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!”

“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”

He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment.

“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.

You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung.

“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”

“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins.

“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained.

Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims.

That was too close of a call for you.

“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim.

“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked.

He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”

Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted.

“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease.

Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”

“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.

“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.

“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back.

“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door.

“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut.

As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.

So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.

As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.

Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.

She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.

"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.

"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."

"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.

Fuck.

"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months.

You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment.

She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”

“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”

“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.”

“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”

“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway.

The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master.

The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content.

Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study.

“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted.

You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room.

Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk.

Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you.

“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading.

“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”

Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain.

He made you uncomfortable.

“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin.

“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”

“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head.

“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have.

“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine.

“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.”

You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes.

Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest.

His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?”

“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right.

“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh.

“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?”

“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent.

That could have been you.

“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him.

“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”

“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.

“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”

That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”

“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”

“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head.

“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on its surface.

“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Interested?” He echoed.

“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”

“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?”

“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”

You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.

“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him.

The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on.

A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin.

“We have a deal.” He confirmed.

“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”

“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger.

That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer.

“And what will we do in the meantime?”

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End.

You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were.

You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void.

You assumed.

Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself.

And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of.

He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped.

And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire.

The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning.

Usually.

Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark.

At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down.

It was the call of your name that made you freeze.

Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you.

“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand.

“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence.

“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp.

“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect.

The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault.

No matter what you do, someone will die.

“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed.

“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’

“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet.

You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you.

He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.”

“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.”

Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow.

“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”

He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him.

“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time.

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”

So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details.

“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm.

And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one.

You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin.

For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study.

He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you.

Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?

You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds.

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind.

“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief.

He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left.

~~~~~~~

You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had.

The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place.

Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth.

“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you.

You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble.

“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides.

“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained.

“Alright, what can I do?”

“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area.

“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared.

Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?”

Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often.

He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way.

“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise.

Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it.

You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said.

The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing.

And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air.

But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent.

“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”

Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak.

It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined.

There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying.

Namjoon was calling your name.

You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him.

“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you.

You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket.

You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him.

“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying.

You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you.

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon.

~~~~~~~

Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before.

Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place.

A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”

He was playing with them.

Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage.

Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster.

And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster.

This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you.

You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once.

You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be).

At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin.

“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist.

“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.”

“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes.

Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.”

“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot.

Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.

As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.”

Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”

“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis.

You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions.

Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation.

You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.”

A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks.

“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind.

And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough.

Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession.

Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless.

You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone.

“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.

You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was.

You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all.

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback.

It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you.

“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook.

Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him.

All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own.

They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish.

“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?”

“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom.

“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”

“Two of us?” You echoed.

“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up.

“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”

“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?”

“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”

His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”

But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all.

You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?

All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End.

You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night.

You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake.

Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out.

It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that.

Oh, if only you did.

The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up.

Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified.

A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone.

You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.

And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you.

“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse.

Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley.

Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips.

“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”

“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form.

“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.”

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest.

“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered.

“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch.

“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”

A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face.

Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.

The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open.

“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly.

“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand.

But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness.

The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.”