#that his liberal girlfriend had to meet him in the middle

[warping-realities]

Part of the Family

Hey guys, first of all this is the long overdue 1000 followers special and also the last story for a while. I'm warning you that it may not be to everyone's taste. There are sensitive themes in the middle and I wrote it more thinking about a horror story than anything else. I don't even need to say that I don't agree with the thoughts and ideas presented by the person responsible for everything who is a fucking psychopath who piously believes that his vision of the world is the only possible one. Anyway, I hope it's an interesting read.

Alexander couldn't believe where the hell he was at that moment. For the young New Yorker, visiting a small town in Texas was way at the bottom of his to-do list, just above getting his teeth pulled without anesthesia. But Abby insisted, and he eventually caved. They had been together for a few months, having met at college where they shared a common class in Columbia. Despite her hick name, Abilene Marrie Johnson, Abby had a sharp mind and a biting sense of humor, able to throw shade right back at his sarcastic remarks with ease, making him quickly fall for her. Not that the fact she was a hot blonde with a petite, well-proportioned body gets in the way. Even her terrible Southern accent was just a remnant of what it used to be, almost unnoticeable, though he still found himself grimacing when she let it slip. That was happening way too often since she arrived in her hometown, where her dad and brother worked in construction. How low-class was that? Not that he was about to say anything to his girlfriend, who was eager for him to meet her family. He didn’t share that anxiety; he could overlook her flaws, but being stuck with two ill-mannered troglodytes was out of the question. This was gonna be his one and only trip to this backwoods hellhole, and he was doing it just to please her—later, he’d make up excuses to avoid going through this crap again.

“A July 4th lunch in a community center… how… proletarian.” He commented condescendingly while looking for his girlfriend at the entrance of the old manor that served as the town's gathering spot. Watching the myriad of folks around him, from all sorts of races mingling just fine, surprised him since he expected a bunch of racist rednecks. What didn’t surprise him was seeing most of them wearing something with the American flag or at least some stripes and stars. Abby wanted to dress like that too, but he’d never let himself be seen with someone dressed so… tacky, to say the least. Independence Day had never been celebrated at his house; his parents were fierce liberals with anarchist tendencies, viewing the day as something hijacked by far-right conservatives who used patriotism to justify their anti-democratic antics. Not that any of them had bothered to vote in any of the recent elections. Seeing such a display of mindless patriotism made him think this day was gonna drag on forever. After a three-hour drive from Dallas to the place, he just wanted to find his girlfriend and get through this torment as fast as possible. He finally spotted her chatting with a hulking Southern dude, older than both of them, with that corn-fed hick boy look, prom king, varsity team… the whole package. He wouldn’t have given a damn if it weren't for the way she was talking to him—too damn cozy for his liking.

“Hum-hum.” He said, positioning himself next to them.

“Alexander, you made it!”

“How could I turn down your invite, even if it means hours of driving to such a… picturesque event? However, I had the impression that it would be a family event.

“May seem strange to you, city boy, but in towns like ours, community is important; everyone knows each other and has helped one another at some point, so we take every chance to be grateful to each other and to the country.”

Said the muscular blonde man who was with her, wearing a sweatshirt with the American flag on it.

“Alexander, let me introduce you; this is John Paul Sanders; he’s been my brother’s buddy for life, from school all the way to college. Now he handles the accounting for a bunch of businesses in Bushfield, including my father’s.

“So you’re the guy who finally won our Abby's heart? You’re gonna run into some pretty jealous dudes, she’s quite the heartbreaker.” The man said, extending his hand to Alexander, who, wanting to avoid looking arrogant, shook it only to feel his fingers crushed by the giant's hand.

“Guess you must be one of them.” He commented venomously while trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.

“Oh no, quite the opposite. Abby and I are cousins by marriage; my wife Susie is the daughter of Trav’s sister, Abby’s dad. Speaking of which, I gotta run, Abilene; Huck is being a handful; the little demon broke your aunt’s favorite vase yesterday. We’ll catch up later,” he said, kissing her cheek before leaving without even glancing at Alexander.

“Interesting type; I imagine there’ll be more. And as much as he says he isn’t, I thought he seemed pretty interested in you.” He remarked as they made their way to the huge backyard.

“Babe, my house was practically a hangout for the football team; my brother’s friends basically lived there; JP and the others are like older brothers to me, and they all still see me as Tommy’s little sister; it’s natural for them to be jealous. Plus, he’s head over heels for Susie, who’s my best friend. Don’t worry about nonexistent stuff.” She said, caressing his arm.

“My dad’s probably in the back grilling, and my brother… oh, look, there he is.” Abby smiled at another blonde man emerging from a covered area full of tables where the crowd would likely feast later. Sporting a muscular, defined physique, with a five o'clock shadow and that dangerous but cute country boy vibe that certainly caught the eyes of many women, he quickly sparked disdain in Alexander. Did these types multiply by binary fission? The feeling of animosity seemed mutual, as the man’s smile vanished the moment he saw who his sister was with.

“Hey, Abbey Road! Looks like the big city hasn’t changed you one bit; I was afraid I’d find you with blue hair, unshaved armpits, and covered in piercings, with some feminist nonsense tattooed on you.” He said, hugging his sister without giving Alexander a single glance, who was taken aback by the nickname her brother used for Abby, as he imagined that a hick ogre like that would reference crap country music about driving tractors and screwing horses while drinking beer or whatever. Only to then be hit with a mix of disgust and rage at the guy's macho comments.

“Shut up, Tommy, you jerk!” Abby shot back, smiling, without really correcting her brother’s remark, then pulled Alexander by the hand and introduced him. “This is Alexander, my boyfriend.”

“Whats up, bro?” Tommy said, extending his hand to Alexander, who, reluctantly after the last experience, reciprocated the gesture only to feel his delicate hand crushed again as the giant flashed him a wicked smile before turning back to his sister.

“Can I ask what you’re wearing? Dad’s gonna flip if he sees you without a flag on; tradition is tradition, Abilene; I thought you knew that, but maybe the big city got to your head.” He said, glancing at Alexander, as if he knew exactly who to blame for that, before continuing. “I’ll call Angie to get you something from her place.” He turned and called a beautifull and very pregnant Latina woman who came smiling toward them.

“Abby! So good to see you! And you must be Alex; she’s been talking so much about you!”

“Alexander, my name is Alexander.” He replied, annoyed, since he hated any kind of nickname.

“Sorry, Abby called you that and I…”

“It’s all good, Angela, mi amor; why don’t you take Abby over to my place to change and let me and my brother-in-law get to know each other better?” Tommy interrupted, putting himself between his sister and Alexander, wrapping his giant arm around the smaller, skinnier man’s shoulders.

“Sure, I think if you guys chat, you’ll become great friends.” Abby said with a smile.

“I’m sure of it, Abbey Road; now hurry up.” Her brother replied, smiling, while his arm’s strength almost crushed Alexander. As soon as Abby and Angie left, Tommy finally released Alexander, looking at him with cold eyes.

“Speak to my wife like that again, and you’ll wish you’d never set foot in Texas… Xander.” He said threateningly.

“Believe me, that wish already exists… Thomas.”

“The name’s Tommy; I’m not some Thomas.”

“How curious, using the diminutive as a proper name.”

“I guarantee you, nothing about me is diminutive.” Tommy replied, flexing his muscular arm. “And you know what curiosity did to the cat, right?”

Ignoring the threat, Alexander continued.

“I just find the choice strange; your parents should’ve done the opposite and left Abby’s name in the diminutive. Where the hell did they come up with Abilene?”

“It was the name of my dad’s mom, so you better watch your mouth, kid. Actually, I think it’s about time you and my dad had a chat; come with me, city boy.” And he turned toward where he had come from. Not knowing what else to do, Alexander followed him.

“You know, Abby’s always had a weird taste in guys; all the guys on the football team from my time and hers would’ve done anything to date her, but she always preferred… well… people like you.”

The audacity of that hick!

“As far as I know, I’m her first boyfriend.”

“Yeah, exactly.” The other man replied with a mocking grin before pointing to a huge, gray-haired man working the grill, wearing only shorts and an apron with the ever-present American flag.

“Dad’s over there; good luck with that, city boy; you’re gonna need it.”

Tommy said, widening his grin and walking away, leaving Alexander to head over to his father-in-law by himself. Travis Johnson, a self-made man in the construction business, started as a laborer before opening his own company, a pillar of the Bushfield community, Abby’s dad, and apparently not too pleased with the figure approaching him, though he forced a stiff smile for the sake of his daughter when he saw Alexander coming.

“Good morning, son; you must be Alex; Abby’s been talking a lot about you.” He said, taking a long swig of beer.

“Same about you, Travis.” Alexander replied, not correcting his father-in-law on the nickname; he knew he was dealing with a man who wouldn’t take kindly to being corrected.

“Mr. Johnson, son; call me Mr. Johnson; calling me by my first name is an acquired privilege.” The man replied.

“Of course, Mr. Johnson; then I ask that you call me by my correct name; I’m Alexander, not Alex.” Since the old man was gonna act that way, he saw no reason to try to please him anymore; it seemed any chance for a good relationship with his girlfriend’s family was shot, and he wondered once more why he was such an idiot to come to this place.

“Of course, Alexander. We have a lot to talk about, but before that, you want a beer? The meat should take a while, and by tradition, women and kids eat first around here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Johnson, but I’ll pass; I don’t drink anything alcoholic, and my diet is vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian? I see… But the beer is all craft, made right here; The Dubois Widow brews it on the family farm.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that too, sir.” He said, thinking about contamination and the filth of the pigsty where the old lady probably brewed that horse piss.

“Fine, and I fear we’ll have to move on to more serious matters without anything to grease the wheels.” The father-in-law replied with a voice that was undeniably hostile.

…..

Watching the altercation from a distance was Tommy, sitting at a table with Diego Ramirez, his best friend, snickering at Alexander's pained expression.

“The kid’s shitting himself.”

“Poor city boy. Tommy, that boy wasn’t made for this; I don’t know what got into Abby’s head bringing a city slicker here.”

“Abilene’s always had strange tastes.”

“Hey, asshole, do I need to remind you I was her date to the prom?”

“Only because you were one of my best friends and she knew all her friends would be jealous seeing her with the most eligible bachelor in town.”

“Only because you and our other golden boy, JP, were off at college.”

“Still, it was that night that you and Betty hit it off, and Austin was born; you should thank me for making you take Abby to the prom.”

“Abby herself didn’t seem that grateful; thank God she went to college right after. Which makes me think, a pretty woman like your sister dating for the first time only in her junior year of college is a bit strange.”

“I told you, Abby’s always had strange tastes, as you can see.”

“Dude, your dad’s about to grill the yankee for the barbecue.”

“Would be a better use for him, but the kid’s so skinny he wouldn’t even make a decent serving.” They both burst into laughter, stopping only when a small, dark-haired boy about three years old came running toward them.

“Hey, big boy, come give your uncle Tommy a hug.”

“Austin, come here! Let me see that arm! One more minute and you’ll be bigger than me!”

“I can’t wait to put the kid in pop warner, but there are still two years to go; at least now he has Huck to play with, and Angela’s about to pop with the twins. You’re in for some rough nights, bro; if one’s already a handful, imagine two boys, especially if they inherit my sister’s temperament.”

“Don’t even get me started; if I didn’t love that woman so much… but that’s the burden of a man: providing for the family and understanding when the wife is going through tough times before she gets back to running the household. Speaking of which, how’s Betty’s situation with her mom? The Dubois widow is a tough nut to crack.”

“Imagine being her son-in-law, man. She won’t hear of selling the ranch, but since my father-in-law passed, things have been rough; the cattle and horses need care and Charlene’s not cut out for it, especially with the brewery to run, and Betty’s got our house and Austin… I try to lend a hand, but working as your dad’s foreman, it’s no cakewalk.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve found a way to help.”

“You have the bussiness to help manage, a coaching gig at the school, and a pregnant wife with twins, Tommy; a wife who, by the way, is my sister and would kill me if I overloaded you with my problems.”

“Angela knows you’re like a brother to me, especially after we lost Mateo.”

“I know, bro, but think about it; she’s pregnant with twins, two boys; imagine the tension in her head remembering seeing me and him running around the house or playing ball with you and the guys and thinking that suddenly one of them could be taken from her?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Diego; but you know, I think the conversation got way too heavy for a day of festivities. Austin, your uncle Tommy needs a favor; go find uncle Hunter, uncle J.P and Huck for me.” He said, setting the little guy down before looking at his dad.

“Let’s have some fun.”

….

“What I want to say is exactly what I asked: what are your intentions with my daughter? Abilene may be in New York now, but she’s a country girl, wants to be a vet, and you, with all due respect, kid, you don’t belong here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think it’s way too early for us to be talking about that, but when and if the time comes, we’ll figure it out.” Figure out way to stay far away from here, he thought without saying it out loud.

“You’re not getting it, kid; maybe in the big city things are different, but here we do things the right way. You came to my house with my daughter claiming to be her boyfriend without asking for my permission first, and you have the gall to say you have no plans for a future with her? No marriage or kids…”

“Oh, as for that, you can rest easy; I don’t plan on having kids.”

“Kid, what do you think you’re doing here? What were you expecting to get?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same… wow.”

He started to respond before being knocked over onto a table by two three-year-olds, with a good amount of cold sauce spilling onto his clothes and hair.

“Little brats! And you ask me why I don’t want to have kids… if I catch those little pests…” Alexander said angrily, getting back up.

“What’s going on here?” asked the biggest cop Alexander had ever seen, a gigantic black man about the same age as his brother-in-law. “Any trouble here, Travis?” He continued, his face serious, though with traces of a teasing grin on his full lips.

“Nope, not at all, Hunter. The kid just lost his cool a bit, that’s all.”

“I think so.”

“Sorry, officer.”

“We respect the kids in this town, kid, and you were talking about my godson and Travis's great-nephew, and the other one is Travis's son’s nephew.”

Alexander looked to the side and saw one of the brats on the lap of the blond ogre who was apparently married to Abby's cousin, and was staring at him menacingly.

“Let it go, Hunter; the kid just lost his head. Speaking of Tommy, where is he?”

“I saw him just a bit ago with Diego at a table a little further up, Travis.”

“If you could take the boy over there, he’s gonna need to clean up and change clothes.”

“Sure, come with me, boy.” The giant said, grabbing Alexander by the arm and dragging him like he was one of the kids.

“Be careful with that mouth of yours, boy; J.P. is a cool guy, but Diego is hotheaded and also the dad of the other of those boys you recklessly threatened.”

Alexander, dazed by the events and indignant about how he was being treated, but also fearing for his own safety, said nothing, allowing himself to be led by in diection of another giant, this one a Latino of the same age as the others. What the hell was in the water in this damn town that created monsters like that? He had no doubt that one day those little brats who knocked him over would grow up to be just as big as their progenitors.

“Hey, Diego, bro. Where’s Tommy? Abby’s boyfriend is looking for him.”

At that moment, the other man was chugging a beer from a pint that looked more like a jug that even one of his giant mitts couldn’t hold on to alone. He finished taking a huge gulp and passed the jug to the side before grabbing his own cup, letting out a loud burp, and bursting into laughter. How could Abby stand living with those kinds of people?

“Oops.” He said, wiping his mouth with his hands. “Tommy went to meet Angie and Abby to find out what’s taking them so long. If you want, I can walk you over there, man.”

“No, thanks; I think I’ll find my way on my own.” Alexander replied, making a disgusted face, finally breaking free from the cop and heading toward the front of the community center before anyone could stop him. He walked quickly, determined to find Abby and tell her he was leaving that place right then and there, and after that, they’d deal with it when she got back to New York for their senior year.

He only stopped walking when he saw his brother-in-law strutting down the street like he owned it, with an air of superiority and arrogance that, if Alexander had the slightest bit of self-awareness, he would’ve recognized as the same vibe he himself typically radiated when not caught in such an embarrassing situation.

“Hey, bro. The guys told me you were looking for me; looks like you’re in need of a little help.”

“I just want to find Abby.”

“Sure, she’s at my place with Angie; let’s head over there, clean up a bit, and I’ll lend you some clothes.”

“I can grab a clean outfit from my car.”

“Nonsense; I must have some clothes from when I was younger that should fit you; that way, we avoid ruining any more of your expensive threads if another accident happens.”

Not wanting to admit he was planning to bail on this place as soon as possible, Alexander opted to follow his brother-in-law to his house. Arriving at the place, a big and cozy house, Tommy asked Alexander to strip down to his underwear.

“Angie will kill me if I mess up her floor, man. Women, you know how they are, especially with pregnancy hormones…Wait here while I grab the clothes, and then you can take a shower.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention; she and Angie went to the house next door; Sara, Hunter’s wife, who you met a bit ago, is about to pop; she’s a couple of months ahead of Angie and couldn’t make it to the party today. But I assure you, Abby will be back soon.” He said, handing Alexander a towel. “Dry off with this while I get the clothes; once you’re clean, you can sit in one of the chairs.”

Alexander did as he was told and, feeling surreal, sat there in his underwear while waiting for his brother-in-law to return. After a few minutes, Tommy came back with a change of clothes, which he placed on the coffee table while heading for the kitchen.

“Take a look and tell me what you think.” He said while heading toward the kitchen and coming back with two cups of beer. “So, what do you think?”

“There’s no way I can wear this, man; it’s way too big for me, and I don’t wear tank tops.” Alexander said, holding up a tank that looked more like a sheet, along with a pair of shorts that would easily fit two of his legs in one of the leg holes.

“Why don’t you take a sip of beer, Xander?”

“I already told you my name…”

“We don’t poison our drinks; feel free to drink.” Tommy cut in, then took a sip from the cup he prepared for Alexander before bursting into laughter at seeing his brother-in-law automatically lift the cup to his lips and take a swig for the first time in years. The beer was cold and tasted just like he remembered from the few times he’d had it before.

“Good on ya, Xander. Isn’t it way better this way, acting respectful toward your hosts?”

Alexander was shocked at himself; why the hell did he do that?

“What… what?”

“Hush, boy. You’re about to listen; oh, how I love this part! You have no idea where you’ve gotten yourself into, city boy. You know, I made a promise to my mom a little before she passed; I’d do everything to protect Abby, and I’ve kept that promise ever since in ways you couldn’t even imagine. The things I’ve had to do…But why don’t you let me show you?” Tommy said, and suddenly Alexander found himself in another place, walking alongside Tommy wearing clothes he’d never be caught dead in: ragged shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, pretty much the same thing Tommy was wearing. Up ahead, walking down the same alley they’d just taken to get to Tommy’s house, was a younger version of himself, all sweaty, shirtless, in shorts and running shoes.

“That’s me on summer break before my senior year in college in Knoxville; I got in on a football scholarship, but I didn’t qualify for the NFL mainly because of what happened a few months before this day you’re seeing. My best friend from school, Mateo, had just died in an accident, and that hit me hard. I couldn’t accept the injustice of the world; first, my mom’s illness, then a stupid accident; it felt like life was just out to punish me. But on that same day, life handed me an unimaginable gift.” He spoke as they approached the backyard of the same house they had just been at. Sitting out front on a bench was a figure that stood out from the rest of the place. An effeminate kid with long blonde hair wearing a feminine outfit—maybe a trans woman? Alexander tried to formulate a question only to realize he was completely unable to speak.

“Hmmm…”

“Let me handle this, Xander. That’s Dylan, one of those weird kids who don’t really know what they are; a rarity around here; you won’t find any of them in town today. I didn’t dislike him; he was polite and considerate, in his last year of school, and undoubtedly eager to leave a place like Bushfield behind once he graduated. Strangely, he and Abby formed a friendship even though she was three years younger than him, and if I could say anything in his favor, it’s that he treated my sister like she was his own. So understand, what you’re about to see was born from frustration and mourning; before this, I might have made a joke or two about the kid, but generally, we treated each other with a modicum of respect. But seeing him there, a dude who refused to be what nature intended, someone who was giving up his masculinity while Mateo, a real man, a warrior, my brother, had left this world, that awakened something in me—an incandescent rage. But not just that; look.”

“What are you doing standing there, fag? We don’t want someone like you dirtying our home and our image.” The younger Tommy said.

“Tommy, come on, that’s not how you…”

“Shut up, you little shit, you fake woman; how can it be that God takes the men and leaves something broken like you…”

“Tommy, that’s enough; you’re not gonna talk to me like that; I get that losing Mateo hit you hard…”

“Don’t you dare say his name with that filthy mouth, you queer… I wish you were like him so I could beat you up and not feel like I’m hitting a woman.”

And then it happened; for a moment, it seemed like Dylan was going to burst into tears, and then, in the blink of an eye, where he had been, was now an older man just past twenty, clearly of Latin descent, with well-defined muscles, a bit dazed for a moment.

“Mateo?” the younger Tommy asked.

“Hey, I miss him too, bro, but you’re talking to the other twin.” He said with a smile. Then the illusion shattered, and Alexander found himself back in Tommy’s living room, unable to move or speak, just thinking about the impossible thing he’d just witnessed.

“And that’s how Diego came into my life; what a surprise it was to find out that to the rest of the world, he’d always been Mateo’s identical twin, and any mention of Dylan raised eyebrows and brought laughter; there’d never been one of those in Bushfield. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what happened, without getting any answers. It wasn’t until over a year later, when I was back in town working as an assistant coach at the high school, that the situation recurred. Abby was starting her junior year and got involved with a troubled kid; Hugo Lafévre had transferred from New Orleans and was the worst kind of troublemaker; he organized protests and rallies against everything I’d been taught to value; he was pro-abortion, anti-gun, and railed against what he calls police violence. He had zero respect for authority figures. I had to do something.”

Again, Alexander found himself in a scene against his will. This time, he was wearing a coach’s uniform, just like Tommy was now, as well as a younger version of he, talking to a young black kid who looked at him with a mocking gaze.

“I have no idea what my sister sees in you; you’re insubordinate and disrespectful.”

“You’re just scared of losing control; for people like you, it’s all about control.”

“Without control, our society falls apart.”

“And what’s the problem with that? It’s about time to dismantle the society you’ve built.”

“Then I think it’s about time you man up, kid.”

“We have very different definitions of what it means to be a man… coach.” The kid replied before breaking into laughter, not realizing the fury building in the older man, who seemed ready to pounce on him, but amid the laughter, the boy seemed to get scared, and puff; suddenly, the giant black man Alexander had met earlier stood before the two, resuming the laughter and speaking.

“… that’s style and lets my abs breathe, and you’re really gonna say anything against a cop, bro? Especially when you need my help to train these little troublemakers; I would’ve been a professional edge rusher if I hadn’t chosen to be a cop.”

“In your dreams, bro…” the younger Tommy replied, still dazed before the image dissolved again.

“It was the transformation of that little shit Hugo into my bro Hunter that made me realize what happened to Dylan wasn’t just a coincidence; I decided I was gonna explore these skills of mine. Slowly, I started hunting down the worst types in town, the punks, the deviants, and the insurgents, and turned them, one by one, into productive members of society. Abby, for her part, finished high school without getting involved with any other undesirable types. But then came her time to go to college; she could’ve gone to Austin or Knoxville, but no, she had to go to the Ivy League, Columbia! What a dumb idea, but my dad agreed, and I wouldn’t dare challenge him. Everything went well for a while, until her first summer break. She showed up here with some older, fat, scruffy dude, who smelled like weed, a wannabe poet who wanted people to call him Sartre; I didn’t even bother to find out his real name; it didn’t matter.

A new vision, quicker than the last. He and Tommy, dressed in Levi's jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots, watched a Tommy dressed exactly like them, who in turn was watching the man Tommy had described, clearly high, turning into the well-groomed blonde guy Alexander met that morning.

“And that’s how J.P. came to be, John Paul, get it? Bet you thought I was some dumb redneck, didn’t you? By then, I didn’t even need to think much to get what I wanted, and I always made sure to keep Abby’s boyfriends close to me because my sister has a knack for finding the most annoying types who end up becoming my best projects. Now you… with you, she outdid herself… with you, I’m gonna have a blast.” He said with a sinister grin on his face. “You can speak now; the last words of a dying man, or did the cat get your tongue?”

For a moment, it really seemed like Alexander was going to say something, but what came out of his mouth wasn’t words; a slimy piece of flesh he couldn’t tell if it was his tongue or something else pushed its way through his lips, prying his teeth apart in an unnatural way and slithering across his face like a giant worm. Soon after, he felt his abdomen contracting with insane intensity, while his face contorted and his skin burned and bubbled in a transformation much slower and more painful than those he had witnessed; not that he had time to think about that amidst all the agony. As the environment around him seemed to darken, only illuminated by the source of heat he had become. Then the pain in his abdomen became unbearable, and while he squeezed it, desperately seeking some relief, it felt like his hands were sinking and merging into the muscular fabric that had just moments ago seemed so solid. But it wasn’t just his abdomen; his arms and legs grew and bulged as he threw himself forward, trying to puke, only to feel his mouth stretch unnaturally wide, while his expanded body was drenched in sweat that seemed to evaporate instantly, only to be replaced by another torrent. Just like the pain began, it stopped, only to start again within his head; it felt like his brain was melting, thoughts, ideas, his very identity turning to mush. He didn’t even notice he now had well-defined abs and toned arms and legs or that his hair had gone from red to a dark brown almost black, while it was drenched in sweat. His physique was nowhere near the monstrosity that was Tommy and his minions. But that was about to change; as his mind emptied of any memory or sense of reality and he threw himself back, leaning against the chair, his arms grew to monstrous proportions, his abdomen became a brick wall, and his chest swelled, while a beard sprouted on him, and finally his thighs ballooned like cords of pure steel, and his calves achieved the angular form of someone used to pushing them through strenuous workouts, while his feet grew absurdly large, emitting a powerful funk that could only be rivaled by that coming from his armpits.

“Almost there, Zander, bro, almost there.”

Upon hearing that name, his head exploded with images, color, and sound, with memory after memory flooding into his mind in such rapid succession that if any trace of Alexander had remained, it would have been instantly suppressed. Then, much faster and more painlessly than when it began, it ended. Throwing himself back, the brute that had replaced Alexander was panting, grinning stupidly, staring blankly at nothing.

“Zander, man, you good? Why don’t you take a sip of beer to cool off?” Tommy asked with a seemingly concerned tone as the light returned to the environment, and the brute in front of him seemed to shrink a bit in size while the sweat that was pouring down his body became just a sheen on his bronzed skin, as he automatically lifted the cup of beer to his lips.

“Ahhhh, I really needed that, Tommy, bro. That was a rough night.” The man said with a grin.

“I can imagine from the screams of the chick you had in my guest room. And from your smell, you reek, bro.”

“Hey, the ranch was way out, and you know how my mom is. Plus, you gave me the key to your house and told me I could use it in case of emergency. Damn, I really stink.” He said, scratching his balls over the old, worn-out underwear he was wearing, lifting his hands to his nose and sniffing them before bursting out laughing.

“Man, an emergency isn’t banging every skank in town in my guest room; you’re lucky my dad didn’t say anything.”

“Uncle Trav doesn’t care about that.”

“Usually not, but it’s not a good idea to do that when his daughter’s at home.”

“Abby’s here? Fuck!”

“As if she didn’t know your habits, man. But I’d be more worried about the fact that you were supposed to be helping my dad with the barbecue and that your mom had to deliver the beer herself; if it weren’t for me and Diego helping out, I’m sure she would’ve stormed the house and dragged you out by your hair.”

“Damn, Zander Dubois, you’re a complete idiot! Man, I need a shower and some borrowed clothes!”

“And what do you think this is on the table, you moron? Don’t worry; we’re the same size.”

“And I didn’t know that? We’ve been borrowing each other’s clothes forever. So who’s the moron, college boy?”

“Get your ass in the shower already, you asshole; I’ll be waiting with a cold beer.”

Zander took a quick shower, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to wash away all the stink from the night before, but he didn’t care as much about that as he did about disappointing Travis; the man had been like a second father to him after his own dad died and helped him with the ranch’s organization while J.P. kept the bills in check. He’d never been the smartest guy, though he knew how to take care of the cattle and the horses, and had his mom’s talent as a brewer. Besides he was one hell of a hunk, of course, he thought while admiring the muscles earned from years of ranch work and playing football in school, the dream of becoming pro ruined by his father’s untimely death and the need to take on his responsibilities, not that he thought he’d have much chance of keeping a decent GPA. But that was all in the past; he had a good life, although his mom bugged him to marry and give her grandkids like Betty had already done, especially since he was the last single guy in his friends group. Worse of all he felt that call every time he played with Austin, the kid would be a hell of a player one day, maybe good enough to achieve what his uncle and dad couldn’t.

“Damn, you are a damn stud, Zander Dubois!” He gratified himself, admiring his muscles in the bathroom mirror before putting on the shorts Tommy had lent him.

“Thanks, bro!” He said walking in the living room and grabbing the cold beer cup Tommy offered him, taking a long sip, wiping his mouth with his hand, and letting out a small burp.

“Hey, Abbey Road!” Tommy waved to someone behind him, making him turn around startled. Only to find no one there.

“Asshole!” He said, punching his friend’s arm.

“You should’ve seen your face, bro!” Tommy replied, cracking up, with Zander joining in.

“That was a good one, bro.”

“Put on the shirt and let’s roll; my dad’s waiting!”

…..

“Sorry for the wait, Uncle Trav; I wasn’t feeling well.” Zander said, taking off his shirt and putting on an apron, if Travis Johnson was throwing a barbecue like this, he wouldn’t be the one to break tradition.

“How odd; you seemed pretty lively last night, Zander.” Travis said with a mischievous grin.

“I’m sorry about that; if I’d known Abby was home, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“Don’t worry about me, but I gotta say that ain’t gonna win you any points with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I ain't born yesterday, kid! I see the way you look at her, and all your buddies are already hitched while you’re still bouncing from bar to bar, hooking up with the first girl who crosses your path just to avoid any commitment.”

“I... I…”

“No need to say anything, son; I’d be more than happy to have you as a son-in-law; I’ve watched you grow up and I know what kind of man you are. But I gotta warn you, something tells me Abby's gonna show up here with some slick city boy who thinks he’s hot stuff just ‘cause he came from the big city.”

“Uncle Trav, it’s almost time for her to finish college and she’s gonna be a vet; there’s no better place for her to work than here, have some faith!”

“I have faith, my boy, but a father’s heart doesn’t lie.”

“In that case, you can count on me and the guys to knock some sense into any city punk who shows up around here.”

“I know that, son. Now enough chit-chat; we’ve got plenty of mouths to feed, let’s get to work!”

In the afternoon, when everyone was well-fed and the booze buzz had taken over a good chunk of the minds present, Zander found himself in the spacious field next to the center, watching kids of all ages play while keeping an eye on Austin and Houston the twelve years old son of his older sister who lived with her husband in Fort Worth so his sisters and brothers-in-law could dance a bit in the hall. And when the not so little guy scored a touchdown in the middle of the fun and ran to hug him, he couldn’t help but feel emotional.

“It’s about time you had your own.” He turned and came face to face with Diego, who was waving and smiling as he watched his own son run over to Huck and J.P., who at that moment was teaching his kid how to hold the ball properly.

“You have no idea what that feels like!”

“Was it my mom or Betty who told you to say that?” He asked, even though he felt a longing inside to be part of that world, to have a little version of himself running around, taking care of the horses, tossing the pigskin in a packed stadium on a Friday night.

“Both!” Diego replied, laughing. “But the boys care about you too, man; what are you waiting for?” He asked as Zander watched Abby play with one of her cousins’ daughters.

“Sometimes we get so focused on something that we forget to see the bigger picture, bro!” Diego continued, turning Zander towards the dance floor full of young women, some sneaking glances his way. “A guy like you ain’t gonna have any trouble finding the right woman; I’ll keep an eye on Austin and Houston; you take advantage.”

….

After dancing with several of the single ladies at the party, Zander sat down to catch his breath while watching the ebb and flow of people, lowering his glasses and checking out a very interesting girl that passed by. Until a whistle startled him.

“Zander Dubois, was that you hitting on Caroline Matthews, a girl from a good family?” Someone said, placing a beer cup on his table.

“What??? Haha, hey Hunter, bro! I'm glad your shift is finally over. And unfortunally, the time to settle down comes for everyone. I want my kids to grow up alongside yours and the other guys’, having the same life I had.”

"So our lone wolf has finally decided to join the pack, thinking about adding a Dallas or a Knox to your mother's list, bro?" Commented Tommy approaching while bringing out snacks and dips and placing them on the table. "The rest of the guys are coming, they're just going to drop the boys off with their moms. We're going to have some boys time. Caroline Matthews then? She's hot, man. But I admit I had hopes between you and Abby."

"Me too, but it's like I said, you and Hunter are going to be parents soon, Huck and Austin are already growing up, I want my kids to grow up with them. And Abby..."

“I get it, man. I just worry about her; she’s always had a strange taste in guys.”

“Your dad mentioned he’s worried she might show up with some stuck-up city slicker.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That if some snobby city boy shows up here with Abby, you, me and the guys would take care of him, country man style.” Zander replied emphatically.

“Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you!”

“Dude, we’re family. And one day, Abby’s gonna find a guy who’s just right for her; I’m sure of it.”

“I believe that too, bro. And it’s gonna be someone just like you and me!” Tommy replied with bright smile.

[justmeinadaze]

Halloween Masquerade (Part of Pushing the Barrier AU) (Eddie X You)

A/N: And now that song from that scene will be in my head for days lol Enjoy <3.

Full Series Here!

Warnings: Stripper Eddie X Fem Reader, SMUT, quickie passionate bathroom smut :), FLUFF, They love each other <3, ANGST, readers mom isn't a fun of Mr. Munson here and feels like he broke up readers marriage, Eddie confronts her and meets the parents, he also has a run with her ex who I finally gave a name to!

Word Count: 3531

“So how are things with your new man going?”

You grin sassily towards your coworker as you take a bite of your food. It had been six months since you kicked out your husband and filed for divorce. You and Eddie both moved out of your old apartments into one together that you absolutely loved. The place you were at with your ex was so big and always felt so empty. With the metalhead’s things mingled with yours, it actually felt like you were home. 

Three months ago, your ex showed up to your classroom trying to win you back so after telling security to make sure to never let him in the building again, of course, the gossip quickly spread. When you casually mentioned Eddie everyone wanted to know more and after bringing him to a work function, they fell in love with him. 

“Y/N, he’s so sweet, oh my god! You were married for how long to that other guy and I don’t think I met him once. He’s really cute to. Look at that smile! You’re so lucky!”

When they asked what he did for work, you told them he was a musician which wasn’t an entire lie. Eddie still played with his band on the weekends and they did what they could to get noticed. You just left out the part about the cube and him taking off his clothes for money. To be fair, you two had many, MANY conversations about it and it was his idea that you keep it a secret.

“I don’t want it to cause trouble for you at work or anything.”

“I don’t think it will but I’m honestly not sure.”

“Baby, I come from a small town remember? Parents used to flip shit about teacher’s personal lives all the time. We had one teacher in middle school who ‘resigned’ because the parents found out she had a girlfriend. It was bullshit.” Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulders as your lean closer against him on the sofa. “I know this city is a bit more liberal but…it would kill me if you lost your job. You love those kids and you’re an amazing teacher.”

“It’s going pretty well. Now the divorce on the other hand…”, you roll your eyes.

“Nick causing problems?”

“With a capital P. I don’t get it. He was never home and asshole cheats on me but he doesn’t want to sign the divorce papers because he thinks we ‘still have a chance’.” 

***

You sighed as you entered your apartment and placed your things down on the floor by the front door.

“Hey baby. Long day?” You smile when you find Eddie sitting on the counter with a beer in his hand. It takes you moment to realize his eyes were clouded over with worry. “Yeah, it’s about to get longer.” Reaching over with his finger, he pushes a button on the voicemail box and you roll your eyes as your ex’s voices floats through. 

“Y/N, honey, please. I know we can fix this! Call me back so we can talk. That’s all I want to do is talk.”

“Seriously, babe, he’s not what you deserve. You deserve so much better! I can be the man you need.”

“Fuck! Y/N, you are smarter this. What kind of future can you expect to have with trash like him.”

You cross your arms as you growl at his insult of the man you love. 

“Oh, wait. It gets better.”, Eddie says with sarcasm. 

“Y/N, it’s your mother. Look, you can’t keep ignoring people that care about you. Nicholas is still your husband and you owe it to him to at least hear him out. Don’t be selfish! A marriage is about two people not just one.”

“Sweetheart, you made a commitment when you said I do. Whoever this boy is that you think is worth destroying your marriage over… I can’t. I’m so upset.”

You roll your eyes as the message closes out with her pretending to cry. Shuffling towards him, you place yourself between Eddie’s legs as you wrap your arms around him, pleasantly sighing when you feel his hand pet your head. 

“I’m sorry you had to listen to that. You’re not trash, baby, and you definitely didn’t destroy whatever I was in before because I know it wasn’t a marriage.”

“I know, sweetheart. I just hate feeling helpless.” Leaning back, you look at him with confusion. “I’d like to talk to your family.”

Shaking you head, you completely pull away from him as you head towards your bedroom with him hot on your heels. 

“Y/N, come on. I can handle them and I’m sick of you having to listen to them berate you because of me.”

“It’s NOT because of you. It’s because of Nick. He convinced them he’s a good guy and he convinced my mother that he’s the victim. Eddie…”, you exhale heavily. “Just ignore them. Please…so we can be happy.”

“Please, sweetheart, at least let me try.”

He softly smiles as he watches your head tilt to the side in thought.

“In our neighborhood where I grew up, for Halloween, they have this cheesy masquerade dance thing they do every year. Usually, Nick and I would go but this year I had planned to skip it… Eddie, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I promise if I can’t sway them then I won’t bring it up again.”

#############

A heavy exhale leaves your lips as he parks his van outside of the building the party was being held at. 

“Hey.”, he coos to get your attention. “You look really beautiful tonight.”

Eddie’s mouth had fallen open when he saw you step out of the bedroom in your purple masquerade dress that you had bought quickly one day after work. It was short in the front but the lacy material flowed down behind your legs just above your ankles with sleeves that came down to your elbows. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail with the loose strands curled as they hung behind you. The purple mask rested on your face and brought out the color in your eyes that made the metalhead swoon. 

Tonight, he took your breath away in his sleek black tux and utterly sexy smelling cologne that almost had you jumping him before you even left your apartment. What he didn’t tell you was he had asked Mira to help him pick something out. 

“Eddie, everything’s going to be fine. I thought you didn’t care what people thought about you two.”

“I don’t but this is her family. I don’t actively want to make her life complicated. If I can smooth things over then I want to try.”

Smiling you lean over to give him a kiss before he jumps down and runs around to open your car door.

“After this, when we get home, we’ll celebrate Halloween right; spooky movies and greasy pizza till one of us throws up.” He beams down at you as you genuinely laugh and agree. “I’m right here with you, princess, ok? No matter what happens, you’re mine and I love you.”

***

As soon as you both entered the building, the stuffy air and aristocrat vibe hit you instantly. Keeping his hand tightly intertwined with yours, you yanked him towards the bar and hand him a glass of whatever was handed to you that you hastily knocked back. 

“How long has this dance thing been around?”

“God, um, for as long as I can remember. My parents were always going and then dragging us along when we became adults.”

“Is it an adult only thing?”

“Not technically but you have a room full of people who are probably already drunk and think they’re above it all so…” Eddie can’t help but chuckle at your disgusted tone. “Did they have things like this in Hawkins?”

“Not that I’m aware of. One of my closest friends, his family comes from money and they had parties but I don’t think they went all out like this. This reminds me of that scene in The Labyrinth.”

“But I'll be there for you-ou-ou As the world falls down…”

His grin grows as you sing and look up at him with wide, glistening eyes filled with nothing but love for him. 

“Care to dance with me, Ms. Y/L/N?”, he inquires as he playfully bows and extends his hand out for you to take. 

“I’d love to, Mr. Munson.”

Guiding you to the dance floor, he tries to mimic the people around him, placing his palm on your back and clasping the other to you own while holding it in the air to the side. You smile as your free hand rests on his shoulder and you two begin to sway.

“You really do look handsome in this.”, you compliment him.

“Me? I pale in comparison to you, princess.” Eddie’s hand slides a bit lower as he brings you closer to him. “I’m not going to lie. I feel like I’m in a storybook right now. Like I’m a commoner who just snuck into the king and queen’s palace to dance with their beautiful daughter.”

“Eddie, you aren’t a commoner.”

“After we dance, I’d climb up to your balcony Romeo and Juliet style, professing my love to you.” He smiles when you giggle and blush, dipping you dramatically before bringing you back to his chest as he softly sings.

“A love that will last Within your heart I'll place the moon Within your heart.”

Feeling eyes on you, you glance around the room till your gaze lands on your mother who is staring daggers at the man holding you. 

“I love you, Eddie.”

Hearing the shift in your tone, he takes a deep breath and wraps both arms around you. 

“I love you to, Y/N. We got this.”

***

“Mom. Dad. You guys look amazing.”

Your dad grins as he yanks you in for a hug. “We look amazing? Look at you! You look beautiful. Who’s your friend?”

Eddie lifts up his mask and offers his hand to your father who shakes it. 

“Hello, sir. I’m Edward Munson but you can call me Eddie.” As he moves to greet your mother, she glares at his palm as if it was dirty and he hesitantly pulls it back. “Ma’am.”

“This is my boyfriend.”

“Hm. Can’t have a boyfriend if you already have a husband.”, your mom spits.

“Hm. Someone should tell Nick that since he had a girlfriend through most of our marriage.”, you retort angrily. 

“How about we go somewhere quiet and get to know Eddie here?”, your father suggests trying to break the tension. 

Both of you follow them into an empty area where you and Eddie sit side by side on a couch while your parents take a seat in separate chairs across from each other. 

“So, how did you two meet?”

“She was out for a walk and it started to rain so she ran into the bar I work at. We got to talking and…” He gently smiled as you looped your arm through his and leaned on his shoulder. 

This was the story he came up with when you introduced him to people you knew. It always made you feel bad because you weren’t ashamed of what he did. You knew he only did it to survive and was working hard to become a musician. But Eddie insisted, trying to protect you from any more unwarranted stress. 

“You’re a bartender?”

“I’m a guitarist actually.”

“He and his band are fantastic.”, you boast making him blush as his fingers lightly squeeze your knee.

“I imagine that doesn’t pay all the bills. Not here in New York.”, your mother sasses. 

“Not yet, ma’am, but I do what I can to make ends meet.”

“Like seducing my daughter and breaking up a marriage?”

“He didn’t ‘break up’ my marriage. Nick did. You know what, that really pisses me off that you continue to defend him after what he did. I did everything to make my marriage work! You constantly make me feel like l didn’t try hard enough.”

“Obviously you didn’t because you and your husband aren’t together. Do you think your father and I get along all the time?”

“It was way more than ‘not getting along’!”

“Please. Look I’m just going to cut to the end of this conversation so we don’t waste any more time. I think you need to give Nicholas another chance and leave this negative distraction behind.” 

You huff as she gestures towards Eddie. 

“She did that already and he failed.”, the metalhead interjects. “We spent time away from each other and I respected her choice even though I didn’t agree with it. Y/N gave him a chance and he still went off to be with that girl.” He turns his head and meets your father’s eyes. “I love your daughter with every fiber of my being. Since the first time I heard her speak, I knew she was special. Nick had her for years and tossed her aside making her feel worthless. I know what that’s like and I would never do that to her or make her feel that way.”

“A marriage is sacred.”, your mother scoffs as she folds her arms. 

“I agree. That’s why I want to marry her as soon as I possibly can.” His eyes find your own. “If you’ll have me of course.”

“Of course, you idiot.” Your palms cup his cheeks as you bring his lips to your own. 

“You know, when we first met Nick, all he did was talk about himself.”, you dad smirked before extending his hand out to Eddie. “You’ve got my blessing, kid.”

As he enthusiastically shakes it, your mom starts scolding you three in the background. Ignoring her, you tug on his arm, and power walk down the hallway till you find an empty bathroom, pushing him in as you lock the door. 

His arms open wide and you practically fly into them as your lips feverishly dance with his. Eddie’s palms roam your body, searching for a zipper, button, or any kind of access underneath your dress. Helping him, you lift the front hem exposing your panties and he hastily pulls them down before grabbing your ass to lift you onto the counter by the sink. 

Heavy pants escape you as he sucks that sweet spot on your neck, grinding his groin between your legs as you fumble with his belt. His palm snakes to the back of your neck, placing his forehead on your own, and groans when he feels you free his cock from its confinement. Licking his lips, Eddie watches you with pure lust and anticipation as your tongue runs along your hand before stroking it along his length. 

You guided his tip to your entrance till his hips took over and he thrust himself into your cunt. Gripping his waist, you allowed him to take what was his as his lips tenderly kissed parts of your face till he found your lips again. 

“I love you, Eddie. I’m yours, baby.” The man’s jaw went slack as he pumped his hips at a faster pace as he listened to you murmur to him. “Look at me, baby, please.”

You subtly nodded as he did what you asked, flashing him a small smile. 

“I can’t wait to marry you. I’ll—mmm—I’ll do whatever I can to get my divorce through. I’m not going to make you wait again. I promise. I promise, Eddie. Fuck.”

Bringing your head to his shoulder, the metalhead circle his arms around you, and held you to him as he pounded into you till your eyes rolled. 

You trembled against him as the coil in your belly snapped and while your pussy clenched around him, he grunted in your ear before releasing his seed deep inside your body. 

No one moved as you continued to hold each other. 

When Eddie finally did pull back, he smirked and leaned forward to kiss your lips. 

“I’m still going to purpose to you at the perfect moment but at least I got your dad’s blessing.”

As he adjusts his pants, he grabs some tissue to clean you with and helps you on to your feet, kissing the skin along your legs as he pulls your panties back to their proper place. 

“No matter what, Eddie Munson, I’ll say yes.”

“I hope you know, baby, I’m not worried about you when it comes to your divorce. I know it’s him dragging his ass on everything.”

“Sometimes, I think about that fight we had in the cube…when you said I was the only girl in the world that you were ok with being my second choice.” Your fingers reach out to fix his jacket as you speak. “That killed me… I never want you to ever feel that way again, Eddie.”

Ringed fingers lift your chin to meet his eyes. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to keep punishing yourself for that and your marriage. You’re here with me now and I’m going to give you the life you deserve.”

After one final kiss, you both leave the bathroom hand in hand as you tug him towards the parking lot with the intention of leaving. Of course, things can never just be that easy for you two. 

“Y/N?”

“Fucking hell.”, you growl in annoyance as you turn around. “Unless it’s about our divorce, Nick, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Y/N, you haven’t returned any of my calls! The least you could do is hear what I have to say!”

“You had 5 years to say what you needed to say! You chose to cheat on me instead!”

“Look, I—” As your ex stepped towards you, Eddie stepped between you. 

“Right there is good. You have no reason to be that close to her.”

“She’s my wife.”, Nick seethed as he eyed the metalhead with disgust.

“Not anymore. You had your chance, many of them, and you blew it. She doesn’t want to talk to you and with that being the case I’m not letting you near her.”

Your ex took a confident step forward and to his surprise Eddie did the same towering over him. 

“Go ahead, Nick. Give me a reason. Y/N wouldn’t let me confront you when you harassed her at work so this will make up for that.”

“Eddie. Come on, honey. Let it go.”, you coax him in a calm voice.

“I broke up with Sarah.”, he says as his eyes flick from Eddie’s to yours. “I haven’t seen her since you left.”

“Too bad you couldn’t do that when we were together. Come on, Ed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m way better for you then this trailer trash asshole! How long are you going to keep punishing me?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Nick. I forgot everything was about you! It’s always been about you! He’s way more of man than you ever were in every fucking way. Now, fuck off!”

“HEY! You don’t get to talk to me like that—”

As Nick stepped forward to scream at you, Eddie’s fist flew hitting him square in the nose as he fell to the floor. 

“I warned you to stay back. Sign the divorce papers, Nick, and let her go. Let her be happy for once.”

##############

“Ow!”

“What do you mean ‘ow’?! Your rings took the brunt of the impact, you badass.”, you tease as hold the ice pack on his hand. 

When you got home, you both had changed and were now comfortably lounging on the couch with you curled up by his side as you took care of him. 

“Geez. You’re so mean.” Eddie smiles as his eyes scan your face. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, baby, I’m ok. I’m sorry about my mom.”

Shaking his head, he tugs you into his lap and you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“Don’t be, sweetheart. I don’t care what either of them says about me but I do care that it hurts you. I remember how lonely you were, Y/N. That sad sound of your voice when you first came in. The way you cried when you stumbled into my apartment telling me what Nick had done. I know you tried everything and I know you deserve better then that dick because I was there. I saw and heard everything. If she wants to keep belittling you, at least now she knows I’m not going to allow that and your dad knows I’m a good guy for you.”

“You are a good guy for me. My knight in shining armor or blood-stained rings I guess.”, you giggle. 

“Hey, I warned him—”

“I know. I know.”, you smile as you turn his head to kiss your lips. “Now I believe I was promised pizza and celebrating the holiday correctly.”

Eddie laughs as he places a final peck on your lips and playfully pushes you off his lap. As he gets up to call the pizza place, he lightly continues to sing David Bowie, and gives you a wink.

“Falling, falling, falling, falling in love…”

###########

############

@Munsonsuccubus @samunson83 @tayhar811

@bibieddiesgf @maximus2354 @nevermore66 @ajkamins

@dollalicia @secretdryrose @staandupanndscream

@tlclick73 @persephone13 @mandyjo8719 @bebe0701

@other-world-s @kiyastrf94 @alottanothing

@blue-eyed-lion @zeroxbendylove-blog @munsonology

@mimsthebannished @ches-86 @siriusmuggle

(I pulled this from an old list so im sorry if any of these names are no longer what you go by. Just let me know and I can update it!)

[indndwnshead]

Amalgamation: Part I - When you meet... Jin

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Chapter tags: developing relationship, meeting the bro, Kim Seokjin is the president of Yoongi x You Shipper club

Series summary:

Now that you are a permanent fixture in Min Yoongi's life, it's inevitable that you meet the rest of BTS.

Each encounter with the rest of the group becomes a unique thread in the tapestry of life, gradually integrating disparate elements into a harmonious whole and seamlessly weaving into the fabric of your joined world.

A/N:

Hi!!! Welcome to the second story in the Unspoken Heart series. With the exception of this first chapter, the rest of this story happens after you've become Yoongi's girlfriend. This might make sense without reading Soulful Stranger, but I do encourage you to read that one first 😉

I envision the photo shoot to have the same vibe as Son Suk-ku and Kim Ji Won's with Marie Claire (after My Liberation Notes). It's not overly couple-y, yet there's a sense of chemistry and intimacy in their photos.

Let's be friends and stan Yoongi together on twitter @itsdndwn 💜💜

---

Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.

Also read on: AO3

---

You and Yoongi were in the midst of the one photo shoot for your post-drama promotion. Due to the overwhelming demand, your agencies and the production company agreed to have this one shoot to appease fans. The concept was to have several couple shoots as well as individual shoots in different settings. Right then, in the very first scene for your couple shoot, both you and Yoongi felt a bit awkward. You stood facing each other, following instructions.

Yoongi seemed unfamiliar with posing alongside a woman and you were just hoping no one would catch on to your developing feelings for him from the way you were behaving. You’ve successfully managed to avoid meeting his eyes throughout the process but it was inevitable.

As if sensing your nervousness, and despite his own thundering heart, Yoongi called your attention to him. "Hey,” he whispered. “Remember, it's just you and me.” 

Your unconsciously tense shoulder began to relax. You smiled softly and nodded, appreciating his gesture.

“Forget about everyone else and just look at me," he continued, echoing the words you had said to him on the first day of your drama shoot.

So you did, you stopped holding back and followed your heart. Taking the lead and remembering the brief from the art director, you held out your hands in front of you, offering it to him. Yoongi took the offer and held both of your hands in his. You gently directed your hands down in the middle between your bodies and tugged him closer. You look up at him, taking the chance to admire him this up close. He looked down into your eyes with a small smile on his lips.

The photographer took his chance and began clicking his camera. You tuned out his excited shouts and focused on Yoongi. In this very moment, you let go of all the pretence and let yourself fall into the moment just with him. You exchange small talks with Yoongi between the shoots, small things that happened between the few days that you hadn’t seen each other. It always warms your heart when Yoongi is so interested in your story, even when it’s just about menial things.

After a few minutes, you were told to move to the second pose. You swayed gently from side to side, quietly humming a tune, while you turned to face the camera. Yoongi followed your movement and stood behind you, his eyes dancing with amusement at your antics. A frenzy of staff immediately crowded you and Yoongi to fix your make-up and attire while the art director gave instructions to you both. The crew left you alone when they were satisfied with the new pose, with one of Yoongi’s arms wrapped around your shoulder and you slightly leaning on him.

As you were waiting for the photographer to begin, Yoongi whispered in your ear that was closest to him. “Was that what I think it was?”

You froze for a second, in a haze, you didn’t realise that you had tried to hum the melody that he let you hear a couple of days ago. He was hanging out at your place when he claimed that the melody struck his mind and he had to record it down. Seeing your eager expression, he let you watch as he recorded the tune and even showed you a few ways the short clip could be tweaked to perfect his vision.

“Maybe…” you trailed off, a little mortified that you had unconsciously attempted to hum back the song with your mediocre skill. You had probably botched up a few pitches hence Yoongi didn’t recognize it straight away.

Yoongi laughed loudly, startling the crew. You turned your face sideways to glance at him, the affectionate smile on your lips didn’t go unnoticed by the photographers who wasted no time capturing the moment. When the laughter died down, suddenly Yoongi’s free hand reached up to tuck stray hairs that had fallen into your face. You felt his fingers linger on your cheek for a few seconds before it fell back to his side. You both stood still, staring into each other's eyes for a few moments before the photographer’s excited shout broke your bubble.

Little did you know, another member of BTS had been silently observing you from the side, his eyes full of curiosity regarding what was happening between you and Yoongi.

When you were taking a break while the crew prepared for the next set, the door to the makeup room suddenly swung open. In walked a tall and handsome man with a warm and friendly smile, yet mischief sparkled in his eyes. It was none other than Kim Seokjin.

"Surprise!" Jin exclaimed, flashing a charming smile. He strolled over to you and Yoongi, the latter looked both surprised and slightly embarrassed.

"What are you doing here, hyung?" Yoongi asked, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Jin's eyes twinkled with humour. "I came to apologize, Yoongi. I felt bad about dropping out."

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You already did before the drama shoot."

"I'm not here for you!" Jin exclaimed dramatically. He then turned to you and offered a polite bow. "I'm Seokjin, the one you would have had the pleasure of working with if not for my stupid injury. Sorry for my replacement, hope he wasn't too hard to work with." He concluded this statement by playfully pointing his thumb in Yoongi's direction.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the playful dynamic between the two BTS members. Politely, you introduced yourself to Jin and accepted his apology. "It's fine, Seokjin-ssi. These things happen." With a teasing glance at Yoongi, you added, "And this one? He's been quite impressive, haven't you seen the news? We've been trending for weeks."

Yoongi scowled, but you noticed the tips of his ears turning pink at your compliment.

Jin's gaze flickered between you and Yoongi, assessing and curious. "I must say, the chemistry between you two is quite impressive. Did you know each other before?"

Feeling a bit flustered under Jin's scrutiny, you turned to face the mirror, pretending to fix your already perfect makeup. 

"Yeah, I mentioned her before." Yoongi quickly said.

Jin furrowed his eyebrows. "You did? When?"

"I'll tell you again later, hyung," Yoongi said, giving Jin a meaningful look, clearly signalling that the topic should be dropped.

Thankfully, an assistant came in to inform you and Yoongi that the next shot was about to begin, abruptly ending the conversation.

Jin once again observed the two of you together, this time with a knowing glint in his eyes. Earlier, his eyes almost bugged out of his head when he saw his younger member laugh after he whispered something in your ear. He didn’t miss the loving expression on your face as you watched Yoongi laugh either. In this next round, Jin had to bite his lips to prevent his excited screams when he saw you intertwining your fingers with Yoongi’s that was resting on your shoulder. The act looked so natural and sweet that he wanted to keep a copy of the video the crew had surely recorded.

Then, on the second setting for your couple shoot, Jin once again was astonished by your ability to penetrate Yoongi’s wall of ice. He looked relaxed and was actually having fun on set. Jin was apprehensive when he heard that Yoongi had to do this photo shoot. He still felt slightly guilty that Yoongi had to step in for the drama, Jin didn’t want to put more burden on Yoongi with this shoot. He clearly hadn’t made the connection between the girl who volunteered at Yoongi’s animal shelter and you, the actress.

When Yoongi told him about you, the girl who volunteered at his animal shelter that is, Jin was intrigued. It has been a long while since Yoongi liked someone enough that he would talk about them to another person. Yoongi himself might have not realised it yet, but Jin knew that he had started to fall for you right then. He was dismayed when he heard that Yoongi hadn’t made his move on you before his farewell from the shelter.

After the photoshoot concluded and you bid the boys farewell, Jin couldn't resist some playful teasing. He turned to Yoongi with a mischievous grin. "So, Yoongi, are you going to ask her out? The internet was right. Now that I’ve seen it live, your chemistry is undeniable."

Yoongi groaned, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. "Hyung, come on."

But Jin wasn't finished. "I mean, what is this history between the two of you? I don’t remember you ever mentioning your co-star."

“That’s because I didn’t tell you about her as my co-star,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, unable to hide the slight smile tugging at his lips.

“What? What are you talking about Yoongi?” Jin asked. Without answering him Yoongi walked away from the shoot, leaving Jin yelling after him. “Hey! Where are you going? Yoongi!”

Later as Yoongi shared the full story with Jin over drinks, the shock on Jin's face was evident. The revelation that you were the girl who volunteered at the animal shelter left him astonished. However, the real surprise came when Yoongi disclosed the extent of your long-standing connection.

Jin's eyes widened, absorbing the details of your history with Yoongi. The pieces began to click together, and he couldn't hide his amazement at the depth of your relationship. The shock on Jin's face was so palpable that Yoongi couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's genuine reaction.

"So, you've known each other for that long?" Jin asked, still trying to wrap his head around the revelation. Yoongi nodded, and Jin let out a low whistle.

"Man, I had no idea. You're full of surprises, Yoongi," Jin remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. "And here I was thinking I knew everything about you."

Yoongi smirked, enjoying Jin's stunned expression. "Well, there's always more to discover, hyung."

Jin leaned back, contemplating the newfound information. "You never cease to amaze me, Yoongi. But seriously, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Yoongi shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Didn't see the need to bring it up until now. Things were just unfolding naturally."

Jin chuckled, realizing the depth of Yoongi's feelings for you. "Well, I guess I can't fault you for that. It's a hell of a story, though."

From that moment on, Jin became even more invested in your relationship with Yoongi, fascinated by the layers of your connection and eager to witness the continuation of your love story. And so, Jin's playful banter about your budding relationship with Yoongi became a recurring theme whenever he met Yoongi.

In the following months, Jin took pleasure in regularly sending your Instagram posts to Yoongi. He didn't stop there; he also shared your drama promotional videos and news articles that featured you. The attached comments were consistently laced with humour and jest, and he'd often say things like, 'Oh, your (girl)friend is so stunning, Yoongi-ah,' 'Make sure to have a lip balm with you; she can't go out without one,' 'Ouch, an iPhone user! Just one more person to fold into the galaxy cult,' or 'You chose well :)'.

Naturally, Jin was over the moon when Yoongi casually mentioned that the two of you were spending time together. He gladly diverts the others' attention if they ever inquire about Yoongi's whereabouts during his rendezvous with you.

On one particular day, as Yoongi and Jin were hanging out, Jin couldn't resist making a jest. "Yoongi-ah, when you finally ask her to be your girlfriend, you'll have to treat me to lobsters. Yeah," he quipped. Yoongi simply chuckled in response.

Then came the day when Jin received a somewhat perplexing text from Yoongi. It took Jin a few moments to piece it together, but once he did, he replied with a flurry of texts, expressing his pure delight at the news.

Yoongi: Hyung, I got your lobsters; let's go eat. Seokjin: YOONGI MY MAN! Seokjin: FINALLY 🎉🦞🥂 Seokjin: This calls for a celebration!  Seokjin: Can't believe we're finally getting those lobsters lol Seokjin: But seriously, you two are going to be amazing together. I'm so happy for you and ____!!  Seokjin: Now, spill the beans, how did you ask her? 😉

[astragreenwoode]

The Spitfire Curse - Chapter Four

Previous: Chapter Three • Next: Chapter Five • Masterlist • AO3 Version

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC (Only Mentioned)

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Non-specified Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Hypersexuality, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hearing Voices

Genre: Adventure, Thriller, Horror, Slow-Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Smut, Fluff, Slight Canon-Divergence, Fix-it fic

As always, thank you @take-everything-you-can for your beta reading and all your feedback!

Chapter Four: Filled With A Distrust In Authority

Word Count: 8,374

Chapter Warnings: Disembodied Voices, Police Brutality, Anxiety, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Assault, References to Murder and other Criminal Activities, Mentions of Drug Use, Self-Harm, Mental Illness

Chapter Summary: Maeven reflects on her relationship with cops before her nerve-wracking meeting with the police chief of Hawkins, who turns out to be the complete opposite of what she expected.

June 1982

Billy and I had our fair share of run-ins with the cops. I can count on both hands the times we were caught smoking weed, trespassing in abandoned buildings, or fooling around in his Camaro. We were only arrested or put in a holding cell twice, but it was twice too many times. Mom and Dad gave me hour-long lectures that ended up with me running to my room and slamming the door on them as I yelled back, “I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

I never used to do that before.

I wasn’t always frightened of cops. Up until I learned about the Gay Liberation Movement from my uncle, I saw them as people I could trust with my life and safety. But even then, I always felt some uneasiness shaking up my body. Even though I knew I was supposedly ‘safe,’ their presence filled me with a fear similar to the kind when I would get in trouble with a teacher when I didn’t even understand what I did wrong. 

After my uncle told me his story of being in so many protests and what cops did to people like him, like me, my seemingly pointless fear of authority figures was validated. This wasn’t long after I had my first kiss with a girl in Middle School.

Even if this sudden realization made my life feel on edge from there on out, something that was constant during this period in my life was my Dad; I never felt unsafe with him. And I had a better understanding with him about why he’d have Max and I favor him instead of the cops in terms of our safety. The waters of doubt became clearer after I was arrested for the first time.

My friend, Emily Bernard, was my first ever kiss and almost girlfriend, but we were awkward with each other whenever we weren’t making out. Her brother, Jordan, was my first-ever boyfriend. He was my first everything. On one hand, being his girlfriend kept me safe from the possible bullying I’d get if it got out that I liked girls. On the other hand, I genuinely did like Jordan. Being with a guy could be just as charismatic and breathtaking as being with a girl.

Sure, he was a bit clueless and headstrong, but he meant well. He was reckless with himself for fun, and I was always the one to talk him out of making bad decisions. It was exhausting at times, but we really enjoyed each others’ company. I was naive enough to think that maybe, just maybe, we’d be together forever. Maybe it was my inner child still trying to hold onto that fantastical hope that disappeared the older you get. Maybe it was my brain telling me how much I needed close bonds like this in order to survive, the way animals do in the wild. But I wasn’t a princess. I wasn’t an animal. I wasn’t in a fairytale. Life wasn’t perfect.

When I was a freshman in high school, two years into our relationship, I found out that Jordan cheated on me. He was my first heartbreak, the last first he’d ever be to me. Even when he tried to deflect my anger toward the girl he hooked up with, I stayed mad at him. He was the one in a relationship. Jordan could’ve simply told her that, but he didn’t. It was the fact that he chose not to that made me so mad, and it was insulting to try and make himself out as the victim.

After a week of burying my heartache in ice cream and horror movie marathons with Max and a month of avoiding eye contact with Jordan at school, I went to his house to drop off a box of his things we kept in my room. I was also hoping to get my stuff from his room in return. It was what adults did; it was the mature thing to do. I had come to terms with our breakup and was ready to move on.

But we weren’t adults; we were kids. And more often than not, kids are villainously petty. The day I came back to the Bernard family home to return Jordan’s things, I went from mature to petty in a flash. It was a cool summer night as I was about to ring the doorbell, I heard Jordan curse out in the backyard.

“OW! GODDAMIT!”

When I trailed around the house, I found him tripping over a bundle of tree branches. He was really good at building fires. We used to camp a lot. As soon as I saw I box with all my things I left with him next to the roaring fire pit, I lost my shit. It was the first time I heard the jumbled voice that taunted me with intrusive thoughts and impulsiveness.

They told me, “Fuck being the bigger person! He’s about to burn all your shit! Are you gonna let him get away with that, Maeven?”

Without even realizing it, I snuck up on Jordan so that the next time he turned around, he’d scream and fall backward. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

He screamed like your average horror movie victim; it was probably the reason he didn’t like to watch them with me. Jordan could be tough and headstrong in certain situations but was a clumsy scaredy-cat once he stepped outside of them.

“Oh, hey, Mae-Mae! Hi, uhmmm, what. . .what’re you doing here?”

“You don’t get to fucking call me that, Jordan! Not anymore! So, I’ll ask you again; what the hell are you doing?!”

As he awkwardly looked me up and down, he frantically gathered the branches and threw them into the fire pit with some old clothes I didn’t recognize. It must’ve been for kindling.

“What’re you doing here?”

I rolled my eyes. Did he honestly think I was that stupid? Did he not see the completely obvious box of his things I had in my hands?

“I asked you first,” I sneered at him. He jumbled on his words momentarily, making random vowels and sounds before straightening his train of thought.

“Spring cleaning?” He gave me a nervous smile that said ‘please buy it,’ as he began sweating.

“It’s June, and that’s a fire,” I pointed out.

His pupils dilated with panic as he stood up before a lame attempt was made to hide my box of stuff behind his dumbass legs as if I hadn’t already seen it. One of my worst pet peeves of his was how he refused to admit when he was cold. I rarely saw him out of shorts.

“My turn. What’re you doing here?”

“I was gonna be the bigger person and return the stuff you left at my house before proceeding to never speak to you again.” I gestured to the box of his things in my grasp before placing my hand on my hip and tilting my head.

“Good for you, Maeven. I’m proud of you,” he said so matter-of-factly. I could tell he was bursting with the energy he needed to make a run for the house.

“Yeah. But now. . .now I’m having second thoughts.”

The closest thing to Jordan shitting his pants was his heart dropping into his stomach. He had never seen me this angry before, but I had been bottling up all the bullshit he made me endure these past two years.

“Really? Why is that?” 

If it were possible, he’d fill a barrel of nervous sweat like an old cartoon.

“Because you’re burning my shit, Jordan! That’s why!” I almost cut him off, my intrusive thoughts and instinct response jumping against his verbal attack.

“No I wasn’t,” he defended himself, surprisingly calm. “Can I have my box back now?”

Yes. This was the hill I was willing to die on.

“I don’t know, Jordan! Can I have my virginity back?!”

The world around us suddenly went deadly silent and laced with tension. Jordan’s eyes widened in shock, but he remained speechless. If I’d been able to see beyond my anger at his betrayal, I would’ve noticed the small changes in his body that indicated when his heart split in half.

“I didn’t even burn it, yet!” he whined.

“But you were going to,” I clarified. His eyes widened as he realized he was caught red-handed in a lie.

“. . .shit.”

As if he was an animal using its defense mechanisms, he took one of the branches out of the fire pit and swung it at me, hitting my arm as the flames burnt my skin. It felt like someone pushed me into a hot grill.

“Are. . .you. . .SERIOUS?!?!”

My face scrunched up in anger as I subconsciously threw his box on the fire pit. I didn’t feel the pain in my knuckles until after it collided with his face; at least it didn’t hurt as much as my arm burned. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did to see him clutching his face on the grass like that as he pinched his nose to stop the flow of blood. He was pathetic before, but he looked even more so now.

“What’re you two idiots doing??” Emily yelled at us as she stood on the porch.

“I’m not an idiot!” Jordan and I yelled in unison.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes. “Hey, Idiot and Maeven. Knock it off.”

I let out a laugh so unnecessarily loud, making me feel even better than before now that I knew at least someone was on my side. . .for now.

“Whose side are you on??” Jordan whined again, getting up to walk towards the porch to his sister.

“Let’s see who wins first, then I’ll decide,” she replied.

“She burnt my stuff, Em!” he yelled, using his now blood-covered hand to point at me like a tattling toddler. “Skating and rock music have driven her to violence!”

I walked right up to him as he backed off like a cornered rabbit. I got up right in his face as I narrowed my eyes.

“You were gonna burn my stuff first, Jordan! And the only thing that has driven me to violence is you, you small-dicked son of a bitch!”

At my last syllable, he stumbled backward on his feet and knocked the back of his head on the wooden railing of the porch.

“HA!” Emily laughed before covering her mouth with her hand.

Jordan got up almost immediately and towered over me, ready to defend his honor.

“I told you never to mention that!” he yelled, shoving my shoulders, forcing me to step back from him a bit. I turned my eyes toward Emily.

“Will you please talk some sense into your lunatic of a brother!?”

She exhaustedly groaned, tilting her head up to the sky.

“You’re both acting like lunatics! And if you don’t knock it the hell off, someone’s gonna call the cops!”

In her defense, we were pretty loud.

“Fine. I’ll go as soon as you apologize and give me back my stuff,” I said, turning my head to Jordan. He had gotten what he deserved. I burnt his stuff, gave him a bloody nose, and announced the size of his dick to his whole neighborhood. That should’ve satisfied me, I should’ve known when to walk away, but I didn’t.

“Apologize?!” he laughed in my face. “I don’t have to apologize for anything, Maeven! You punched me in the face and burnt my shit! And technically, you don’t get a say in what I do with ‘your’ shit. You left it at my house, therefore, it's mine.”

I considered punching him again, but I didn’t. It would’ve landed me in more trouble than I already was about to be in.

“There she is! Right there!”

I turned around to see Mr. Bernard pointing his finger at me, two cops behind him as they stomped their way toward me. One of them took out their set of handcuffs.

“Dad?” Emily asked him. “What’re you doing?!”

“Oh, shit-AAAHH!!”

Before I knew it, one of the cops shoved me in the chest and sent me falling backward on the grass. My head collided with the ground and made my ears ring as I tried to find my bearings.

The one without the handcuffs aggressively turned me over onto my stomach before proceeding to push his knee into the small of my back. It forced the air out of my stomach and lungs. My brain tried to force my body to move, but I was frozen in place. I understood now that it was my body’s way of keeping me safe; it knew better than my head that I couldn’t fight this situation.

“What the hell!? I didn’t do anything!”

He shoved my head into the grass with his hand as his partner bound my hands. They hauled me up by the chain of the cuffs as they dug into my wrists, roughly grabbing my arms as they dragged me away.

“You’re under arrest for domestic violence and destruction of property. You have the right to remain silent-”

I blocked them out and turned my eyes to the Bernards.

“You’re arresting me for a bloody nose and a bad breakup?!” I scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?! He’s the one who burnt me!”

I couldn’t prove it, but I swear that one of them dug his fingers into the fresh burn on my arm. My feet refused to move as they dragged me along the grass from the backyard to their squad car; it was hard to believe this was really happening. It certainly wasn’t necessary for them to be this aggressive with a 5’4 fifteen-year-old girl.

“Dad, what’re you doing?!” Emily yelled behind me.

I could hear them trailing behind us as one of the cops kicked at my feet, forcing me to stand and walk with them.

“She assaulted him! It’s the least she deserves!” Mr. Bernard replied to his daughter.

“Dad, it’s just a bloody nose! I’m fine! Just let her go!”

That was certainly a surprise. It was the first time I heard Jordan show any type of courage. Even after I burnt his things and punched him, he wanted to help me.

“Maeven, it’s gonna be fine! I’ll call your mom!”

“What?! No!” I turned to Emily as the cops pushed me into the back of the car. “She’ll kill me! Call my Dad!”

“I don’t have his number!”

“Fuck! Okay, just. . .just don’t worry about it, Em. Okay?” I yelled through the glass. “Don’t call anyone. I’ll call him when I get there.”

As they drove me away to the station, I wasn’t certain of it, but I thought I could see Jordan mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to me. I shut my eyes and did my best to put my mind anywhere else but here. I wasn’t being arrested. This wasn’t happening. I was with my Dad and my sister in the woods. We were having fun. Everything was fine. It felt like heaven.

That trick never worked, but I still try it to this day.

A week later, I found my box of stuff returned to me on the front steps of my house, along with a note I didn’t have the strength to read. Jordan was officially the bigger person in this equation.

. . .

Without his morning cup of coffee, Jim Hopper couldn’t comprehend the busy sounds of the police station; the ringing of the phones, Flo’s daily notifications about his upcoming meetings, and the occasional pats on his back for just being present before noon. The small coffee machine was a gift from God, he convinced himself. A sip from the strong, fresh-brewed cup of coffee melted away all his sleep deprivation, muscle tension, and lingering hangover; as well as the headache from taking care of a certain little girl whom he shared his cabin with.

Taking a seat at his desk, his vision cleared and focused as he stared into his cup as he added his desired amount of sugar and a splash of the thick creamer. Hopper faced the tower of manilla folders, stacked as high as they could go without tipping over. He flipped open the folder on top before being interrupted by a rapid knock at the door.

“What?” he groaned out. There was never a moment of peace around here.

“Well, good morning to you, too, Hop. Or should I say ‘afternoon?’” Flo let out a laugh. She flopped yet another Manilla file on his desk right in front of him, almost tipping over his coffee. The digital clock on his desk read 3:26 PM in red letters.

“Flo, why would you do that? Can you seriously not see the big stack right next to me?” he whined, palming his face and rubbing his eyes with both hands. Flo rolled her eyes.

“This might just be my personal opinion, Hop, but if you didn’t spend most nights drinking and your mornings nursing your hangovers, maybe that damn stack wouldn’t be as tall as the Empire State Building,” she retorted back at him, hand on her hip.

“You’ve never been out of Hawkins, Flo. How do you know how big the Empire State Building is?”

“Just read the damn file, smartass. It’s the most recent one, anyway. You got a meeting with them in about a half hour, so study up.” Flo had worked with him long enough to know he needed a playfully harsh nudge to get his ass going in the morning. She wasn’t gonna let him get off that easy after showing up late and only working for a couple of hours. And Hopper thought it was the coffee that did it.

Before strutting her way out of his office, she turned to him once more for a final note. “Also, you’re four o’clock is running behind, so don’t expect to be out of here before five tonight, you big oaf,” Flo added, one hand on the doorknob while the other pushed up her glasses. Hopper softly banged his head against the top of his desk in response, pointing to the hot cup of coffee in his fist.

“You want this open or closed?” she laughed out.

“Closed.”

Flo left the door halfway open; a compromise.

The Chief picked his head up and let out a long and therapeutic groan, blindly opening the folder in front of him. He kept his eyes closed for a short moment of calm to officially prepare himself for the rest of the day, however long that ended up being. The contents of the now open file caught his eye, as it was faxed to him all the way from San Diego. How did someone end up in the back-forty of Indiana from the busy city streets in California?

Margaret Maeven Mayfield, it read, a month away from turning eighteen. Hopper could’ve sworn he had heard ‘Mayfield’ somewhere before. It sounded like a distantly blurred name of someone from his military days. Now wide awake, he actually took his time to thoroughly read it in all its details instead of just skimming over the fine print to get each case knocked out as soon as possible. ‘Maeven’ was certainly a unique choice for a middle name. He wondered what it meant.

Despite being reported as being intimidatingly smart and well-behaved by all the staff at her old school and the San Diego police, Margaret had made quite the case for herself as a rebel. Her first arrest was when she was fifteen. The charges, in order, were Domestic Violence, Destruction of Property, Drug Possession, Vandalism, Public Indecency, Public Intoxication, Assault, Inciting a Riot, and Manslaughter. What was even more enticing was that most of all these charges were dropped against the girl, and she was sentenced to community service instead of jail time. Apparently, she was very enthusiastic about her punishment and was rewarded for her work by the community. Who does that? Certainly, not anyone Hopper knows.

Her mugshot emanated an unsettling tone of both heartbreak and terror. She was randomly splashed with blood as she held her name up in front of her, her eyes sunken in. They were dark, both in and under, but still wide as if she had just come face-to-face with the devil himself. She looked so scared. Margaret had a past as wild as Hopper’s entire life had been, and she hadn’t even finished High School yet; expelled from School after her assault, a history of fighting and drug problems, and three months in an In-Patient Mental Institution was enough to grab anyone’s attention, let alone a Police Officer’s. 

He knew appearances could be deceiving, but the known victim and suspected criminal looked nothing more than a scared little kid. It reminded Hopper of the Munson boy; practically stolen after his mother’s overdose, both done by the hands of his father, Al Munson. Poor little Eddie just got dealt the wrong cards and had no choice but to accept his place in society as the future resident burnout, both put in place and enforced by the league soccer moms in Hawkins. Hopper wasn’t sure any kid deserved that, even if Munson and Maeven weren’t really kids, anymore. How could someone so young and full of life be accused of so many horrific things?

Jim let his mind wander for a moment back to the times when he himself was a dumb teenager who didn’t know any better. Under the young girl’s circumstances, he could definitely see how and why wrongful accusations could be made against her. He saw himself in the file; a misunderstood kid from the other side of town guilty of nothing but defying their ‘destiny’ and tainting their reputation as a straight-laced good kid. In small towns like Hawkins, you cross a certain street and it’s like a whole other world; divided between the shabby cabins and trailer parks with the so-called ‘town bums’ and the suburbian paradise the soccer moms and their nuclear families shielded themselves within.

The ringing of the phone interrupts Hopper’s thoughts, and he’s suddenly now aware of how he’s been studying the Mayfield file for so long that the red digits on the clock suddenly read 4:32 PM. He huffed out a long sigh before picking up the phone and pressing it to his ear.

“What d'ya got for me, Flo?”

“Mrs. Hargrove and her daughter are here. Should I send ‘em in, or are you still nursing that hangover?”

“Yeah, yeah, send ‘em down. . .smartass.”

. . .

Maeven missed her long hair.

As a child, she wanted nothing more than to have what she, Max, and her parents dubbed ‘princess hair.’ Rapunzel was always her favorite, and she had complained multiple times that the Walt Disney Company was yet to make a movie about her. But she always pictured herself being a wild princess who runs through the woods with leaves and twigs in her hair.

It took her a while to learn how to properly take care of it. She was always so sad when it had to be cut shorter; a result of her failed attempts to grow it out ending in a barrage of too many tangles and knots. After a few too many cuts than she was comfortable with, Maeven finally grew old and patient enough to settle into a good hair-care routine when she was around ten years old.

She loved having so many ways to flaunt her wavy red locks; ponytails, pigtails, braids, and buns. But her favorite way to wear it was to just let it flow down past her shoulders, below her breasts, stopping at the small of her back, so wild and free. Maeven loved the way her partners stroked or tugged on it whenever she was intimate with them. Billy once told her when he fucked her on his lap that running his hands through her hair felt like he was touching the setting sun. 

Having Maeven’s hair draped across his body like a silk curtain was one of the only places he felt truly safe. Of course, he had never admitted it aloud to her. It was partially to keep up his tough reputation, but he also didn’t feel like he needed to tell her. Maeven already knew, he could tell. She was always good at reading him.

Maeven’s hair was always the first thing people noticed about her. It was the first thing they noticed about Max and their Mom, too. Besides the blue eyes and the freckles, it was the Mayfield ladies’ defining feature. It was why everyone was so disappointed when she cut it all off so suddenly. One night last February, she woke up from yet another nightmare, a flashback, that someone chased her, hunted her down like a wild animal, and caught her by her hair.

New Year's Eve, 1983 ruined a lot of things for her; parties, drugs, nighttime, and outside, just to name a few. But the worst part of it was no longer feeling safe in her own body. It was the feeling that she was no longer safe being herself. So, acting on sheer impulse and instinct, Maeven took the sewing shears from her mother’s craft room and hastily cut off her long ginger locks until her hair ended up choppy, just below her ears. 

She wasn’t sure if she should’ve felt sad at what she had done to herself, or feel relieved now that the cause of her paranoia was severed from her head. All she did know was that she had one less thing to worry about; one less thing that people liked to take advantage of. She didn’t want to be hunted, anymore. She was a little bit safer. . .for now, Even though her emotions weren’t certain, she still cried her eyes out that night.

After letting it grow a bit and finally evening it out, Maeven did her best to embrace her new look. She just decided that she wasn’t going to look at herself in the bathroom mirror unless she absolutely had to brush her hair or put on makeup. It was easier that way; less painful. As the cold, autumn wind passed through Hawkins and made the back of her neck chill that she missed her former length the most. It helped that she never needed a scarf in the winter, as she could always use her hair to cover her neck.

Maeven scratched the back of her neck, running her fingertips over her hairline and short fuzz to soothe herself. She twirled her short locks around her finger and pulled hard; a not-so-healthy way to cure her boredom and keep her anxiety occupied. It was times like this she regretted cutting away her hair the most. The times when she wanted nothing more than to hide her face behind her firey red locks and just sink into herself. 

She had slowly gotten used to the constant presence of police since her first arrest at fifteen and all the times that followed afterward. Whatever name you give them, cops, police, pigs, dicks, every officer of the law was different in their own way. Maeven had met maybe a handful of them who actually seemed concerned for her well-being and genuinely wanted to help her. That didn’t make their looming presence any less threatening to her. More often than not, they were the kind to attack first and ask questions later. 

Since being discharged from inpatient psychiatric treatment, Maeven did her hardest to appear non-threatening and be on her best behavior, especially around the police. She steered clear of them. Even though she tended to steer clear of everyone these days, she avoided confrontation with police especially. With all the charges that had been brought against her in the years following her first arrest, Maeven knew that whatever was on her permanent record, it wasn’t a flattering portrayal.

The treatment program she went to maybe have helped her with a lot of her many mental issues, but Maeven still felt broken. Even if she recovered, she didn’t feel quite like a human again, and she secretly wished she could just change. It didn’t matter what or who. Honestly? She wouldn’t mind being a rock or a dying star, an animal or an insect. It wasn’t important to her. All that mattered was that she wouldn’t feel like this; being a human was a messy, painful merry-go-round of inconsistencies. It wasn’t worth it, anymore.

Maeven wasn’t sure exactly what was keeping her alive. She felt it getting stronger once they moved to Hawkins, and she was determined to find it. But, for now, her life would just be a mundane and painful routine of various medications, her many coping skills that ranged from healthy to unhealthy, visits with cops and therapists, and trying to stop herself from getting in her own way. It was working. . .slowly. But that's the thing about healing; it isn’t always linear.

She didn’t even hear the receptionist call to her and her mom until she felt her grab her hand in an attempt to bring her daughter along to, . .

“Wait. . .where are we again?” Maeven thought allowed, not even realizing it until her mom looked at her with wide eyes, a mixture of disappointment and concern. It hurt to look at.

“The Police Station, Maevey. You have a meeting, remember?”

Maeven said nothing, her brain still catching up with the rest of the world and the concept of time. She dug her sharply manicured nails into her palms, taking a moment to swallow her anxiety down before smiling and nodding at her mom.

“That’s right,” Maeven silently remembered. After the tour of the school, Neil dropped her and Susan off at the police station. Billy took Max to the arcade and he was no doubt killing time by using the back roads of Hawkins like his own personal race track.

“You were disassociating again, bitch,” the voice scolded.

As her mom gently tugged her along toward the Chief’s office, Maeven felt like the world around her was growing smaller. Technically it was; the walls narrowed as Susan led her down the hallway from the front desk. It wasn’t long at all, or even that narrow. But that’s how it felt.

Susan Hargrove, on the other hand, walked in front of her daughter like she owned the place. Another flaw of Neil’s that rubbed off on her. Maeven wasn’t sure if she should feel scared or safe. She hadn’t felt like she needed her mom’s guidance and protection since she was little. Were either of the Mayfield women themselves, anymore?

Her mom stood halfway through the threshold of the Chief’s office as Maeven mentally prepared herself to remain calm in front of him. This man had access to her file; a collection of her worst moments where she was decided to be bad by people who didn’t know her. He had the power to use everything in that file to make her life worse if he wanted to. It all depended on his impression of her, on whether or not she can do a good job convincing him that she wasn’t the person those documents painted her as.

“I take it you’re Mrs. . .Hargrove? I thought it was ‘Mayfield?’”

“That was my last husband’s name, Mr. Hopper. I remarried this year,” Susan promptly corrected him. Hopper’s eyebrows raised as his eyes narrowed.

“Another Suburban Soccer Mom. Go figure,” he thought to himself.

“Alright, then. C’mon in and have a seat, ladies. I don’t bite,” Hopper gestured to the chairs facing his desk.

“Yeah. You might not bite. But what about you, Maevey?”

Maeven didn’t acknowledge the voice this time but crossed her arms around her middle to hug herself. 

She rounded the corner and looked at the Chief. Hopper looked like someone her dad would get along with. Not the sleazy, sexist drunk ones who hovered around him in San Francisco. Out of his police garb, Maeven predicted that he’d be someone’s dad or cool uncle who takes you fishing or cooks you a classic American breakfast. She took a seat next to her mother in her matching leather office chair. The urge to play with and pick at the tears and cracks was annoyingly strong.

Maeven sat so that both her hands were tucked under both her legs, hidden underneath her skirt. She didn’t want her mom to draw any more unnecessary attention to her fidgeting. That was embarrassing.

Hopper couldn’t help but stare at the nervous girl in front of him. She was definitely smaller than he expected, maybe because of the way she carried herself as if she was trying to disappear. No matter how many years he had under his belt as an officer, the cases that involved kids never got easier. In fact, they had only gotten more difficult in the last year. Between Will going missing in a whole nother goddamn dimension and suddenly becoming a parent to a girl again, Jim had a lot to adjust to, lately. And it seemed like he certainly wasn’t the only one.

This girl was too impossibly young to know grief this large. Yet, here she sits in front of him. And even if her files were up to date, Jim had his doubts. He knew that looks could be deceiving, but Margaret Mayfield didn’t look or act like a criminal, much less a bad person. There was just no way.

“So. . .what brings you in today?”

For once, Maeven decided not to count the stains on the carpet or the scratches on the Chief’s desk. Not that she wanted to talk to him, but she just didn’t want to be silent and awkward anymore. In the past, the cops she dealt with before interpreted her silence as a threat, or a confession of her guilt. And she left the school tour feeling oddly confident after meeting Nancy and Steve.

Of course, her mother just had to speak for her. 

“My husband called in and spoke with your receptionist, Flora, to make sure you got my daughter’s file from Captain Daly down in San Diego. We just moved here, and we wanna make sure she has a. . .a good relationship with the law enforcement here so that she hopefully doesn’t repeat her past mistakes,” she explained, finishing with a smile on her face.

Susan grew a little too used to assuming Maeven’s feelings. It was fine at the beginning when she at least asked for her permission via a silent nod, but it was more often than not that she just took over and micromanaged the conversation.

“Well, now she just has to pay. Go on, now.”

“No, no, no. Please just stop. Please.”

It took a moment for Jim to process what just happened. He didn’t blame Susan’s daughter for looking at her the way she did, with such frustration and annoyance as she bounced her leg. The psychiatric evaluation in her file did say she suffered from anxiety. Hopper wouldn’t be surprised if this girl listed her mother as a stressor.

“Y’know, I’d actually prefer to speak with Margaret alone, if you wouldn’t minds, Mrs. Hargrove?”

The very thought of her mother leaving the room for a little while lowered the tenseness in Maeven’s shoulders and the air suddenly return to her lungs. She tried not to let it show too much, though. Her mother developed a tendency to notice the little changes whenever her mood fluctuated. No matter how infuriating Susan acted sometimes, the thought of hurting her feelings still broke the young girl’s heart to think about. It was both an impressive and scary hidden talent, like a lighthouse with a giant eye as the light.

“Maybe you should sketch that. It’d look cool,” the voice suggested. Maeven fought the urge to reach for her sketchbook. She could already see the picture in her mind’s eye.

Susan paused for a moment as she processed the Chief’s request.

“Oh. . .sure! Of course! No problem, I. . .” Susan stood up from the chair and placed her hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll just be waiting outside, okay?” she reassured, her eyes turning sad when she looked at her.

Maeven blinked away her idea for a moment to give her mom a half-smile. 

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine,” she replied, her hand squeezing, then brushing her hand off her shoulder. Susan nodded before walking to the door.

“And it’s Flo, by the way. Not ‘Flora,’” Hop made sure to mention before she had a chance to close the door on her way out.

“Yes. . .of course,” Susan stuttered as she closed the office door. The silence that filled the room after it slammed wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable for once. In fact, it was oddly freeing.

“Thanks. I, uh. . .thank you,” Maeven squeaked out as she fidgeted with her hands just itching to reach for her backpack.

“No problem, kid,” Hopper chuckled before continuing. “My wife was the same way with me and my daughter. She just worries.”

Maeven said nothing, but nodded in understanding, making eye contact with the Chief for about two seconds before turning back to her lap. Hopper could already see that his theory about her being misunderstood in her reports proved to be correct already.

“So, Margaret. Or do you go by ‘Maggie?’” he asked

“No one calls me that,” she said softly. “It’s Maeven.”

Hopper’s eyes darted back to her file just out of her sight.

“Oh, your middle name. Alright. Sorry,” he reassured. But, again, Maeven said nothing.

“Okay, then. Well, welcome to Hawkins, first of all. You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” she muttered, bouncing her right leg while swinging the left.

“It takes a little getting used to,” Jim mentioned, continuing his attempt to coax this girl out of her shell. He couldn’t help her if she didn’t talk to him.

“Mmm-hmm. . .” Maeven nodded.

The Chief exhaled loudly through his nose in contemplation, suddenly noticing that her eyes were darting back and forth between her fidgeting hands and her backpack. What did she have in there that was so important? According to her file, Maeven could be nervous about drugs in her bag. Her behavior was, after all, common for a druggie, but Hopper didn’t think that to be the case. Still, he treads lightly.

“I see you eyeing your bag, there. Do you need something?”

Maeven’s eyes darted back to him for longer, this time, her demeanor that of a cornered animal unsure how to react.

“Sorry. Do you mind if I draw?” she asked, shaking her head as if to bring her back to herself.

“Draw? Why?” he asked.

“It, uhm. . .it helps with my restlessness and keeps me focused,” Maeven fumbled to explain herself, almost defensive about her hobby. Hopper shrugged.

“If you promise to answer my questions, I got no problem,” he admitted. He really didn’t care, just a little confused.

She gave him a soft smile before immediately reaching for her bag and pulling out a black sketchbook and a small pouch of pencils, pens, and markers. Swiftly, she turned to a fresh page and pulled out a red colored pencil.

“. . .thank you,” she muttered before getting to work.

“So. . .I got a call from Captain Daly all the way out in San Diego, and he filled me in on your. . .recent situation,” Hopper explained, pausing every so often to observe Maeven’s movements as she sketched. The way her hands moved the pencil across the page was random, both erratic and calm with no clear order or pattern, but still had a sort of rhythm. 

“Apparently, you had quite a reputation with your school and the law back over in California?”

At the mention of her past, Maeven’s drawing hand came to a dead stop, as if her mind was somewhere else and had to adjust to his words in her own way.

“He knows, Maeven. He knows how insane you are. One toe out of line and he’ll have you sent to an asylum. And you know what’ll happen then, right? You’ll never be seen again.”

“. . .yeah, I guess so,” Maeven admitted, trying her best to swallow her obvious fear of Daly before going back to her sketch. She had finished the basic outline of the lighthouse from a bottom perspective, continuing to draw a giant, graphic eyeball in place of the searchlight.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too proud about it,” Jim observed.

“I’m not. I never was,” she defended, moving on from the iris to the veins. “I’m the complete opposite, actually.”

She brought the leg she was once swinging up to sit on the chair, almost melting into it. He chuckled softly. Now she was starting to act like a kid her age should.

“Do me a favor and keep your boots off my chair, Maeven.”

He wouldn’t have said anything if he knew that the girl would suddenly switch moods and sit the way a mother would nag her child to.

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, sir,” she apologized.

Hopper mentally scolded himself. She was just started to get comfortable with him and he had to go and ruin it with his big mouth and closed-minded understanding of manners.

“Have you dealt with a lot of law enforcement before, kid?”

“I. . .I don’t have any intention of causing any trouble, Officer, I promise.”

It was clear to him now that Maeven didn’t have an ideal relationship with cops. No doubt due to Captain Daly and his officers. Some of the reports of arrests in her file indicated that she fought(as any other kid would do in her situation) and the officers weren’t exactly.

“It sounds like Captain Daly gave you some hard times. I’m not gonna blame an officer for doing his job, handling your investigation.”

“I know. I don’t either. I know I wasn’t the. . .easiest person to handle,” she confessed, now sketching slowly, moving on to add the details of the lighthouse.

Her attitude toward the situation was delightfully humble, but just as depressing. It was always tragic to see someone so young also filled with so much pain. Jim turned back to her file and skimmed over a couple more pages that mentioned how she gradually started getting into more and more fights throughout the second semester of her failed Junior Year.

“It says here that you’ve had some. . .bad luck with others. And that you’ve dealt with behavioral issues. But you’re on medication now and have been managing your impulses.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, not looking up from her page.

“That’s not something to be proud of, Maeven. You shouldn’t have to rely on pills to keep from hurting yourself and fucking everything with a heartbeat.” the voice scolded in her ear. 

“I don’t do that,” she argued against it, shaking her head free of those thoughts.

Hopper looked at her list of medications on her medical records, including the trials and tribulations of finding the right pills that worked for her. It couldn’t have felt too good to have to take that many pills so often.

“So. . .why don’t you tell me what happened, Maeven? Tell me about yourself,” he suggested as she relaxed her shoulders and continued to sketch. Jim didn’t want to pry. Even if it’d been a while since her incident and recovery process, she was still clearly fragile about it.

Maeven shrugged as she finished coloring the red roof of the lighthouse.

“What is there to know? You have my file. You know exactly what I am,” she pouted. It was strange to Jim that she could switch from being a mature young lady to a frustrated child so easily and quickly.

“No. I can’t really say I do,” he gently argued with her. After pausing to take a look at her sketch so far, Maeven shut her book, tapping and scratching her nails against the cover.

“Look, I know that I haven’t made a lot of good choices in the last few years. I know I’m pretty crazy, too. And I know that’s not an excuse and you have no reason to believe me, Sir, but I’m very sorry and I don’t wanna get in any kind of trouble again, and I-”

The longer she talked, the more discombobulated her movements became, and the more frantic and anxious Maeven appeared to Hopper. Her leg shakes as the tapping of her nails on her notebook turned more rapid. It became clearer to him that when Mr. Hargrove called in to say this girl was extremely fragile, he wasn’t kidding.

“Woah, okay. Just calm down, kid. Enough with the formalities,” Hopper held out his hands as he spoke as if trying to show an abused house pet that he meant no harm; the act made Maeven suddenly realized she needed to breathe in between sentences. 

“Stop calling me ‘sir,’ Maeven. ‘Makes me feel like a Grandpa,” he laughed, holding out his hand as he awaited a shake. “It’s Hopper. Jim Hopper. My friends call me ‘Hop.’”

“Okay, uhmm. . .Thank you, si-I mean Hop,” she tripped over her words as she accepted his offer for a friendly handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Miss Mayfield.”

It had been a while since Maeven interacted with an adult this way; just a casual, friendly interaction between two fellow adults. The chief’s handshake was firm with respect and emanated a familiar warmth. It reminded her of her Dad.

“Don’t worry. I won’t make too big a deal about this. I won’t let your troubles follow you into Hawkins if that’s what you want. But that also depends on you and your choices from here on out, you understand?”

“I do, yes,” Maeven smiled, feeling a small sense of pride that she thought died on New Year’s.

“Thought so. You seem like a smart kid. Took a look at your grades from Newport. Said you almost broke some record at their school for scoring so high on the SATs.”

“Yeah. . .it’s not that big of a deal,” she laughed, humbling herself again as she looked down at her tapping nails on her sketchbook.

“It is in Hawkins, kid. Trust me,” Hopper playfully argued. He wasn’t exactly wrong, either. Even back when he went to High School, a lot of his graduating class was made up of jackasses that didn’t know their ass from their elbow. The more academic ones ended up leaving Hawkins for better opportunities. Joyce could’ve been one of those people, too. But she was happy where she was. That was the kind of future he knew Maeven could reach. She was too good for this place.

 “Not a lot of our kids have that kind of potential. I’m sure you’re gonna be fine,” he finished.

Maeven wanted to accept his compliment, but the voice inside her wouldn’t let her. 

“He’s lying to you. He’s just trying to be nice,” it taunted, disguising it as a warning, she was sure.

“So, we both know what your file says. But I wanna hear it firsthand. You wanna tell me about what happened to you?”

Again, Maeven could only speculate what was in that manilla folder. She remembered a meeting with Captain Daly and her mother where he slammed her case file on the table of the interrogation room. She couldn’t bare to look at it. It was painful enough watching Susan read it through the gasps and sobs. She was sure that reading it herself would tear her very soul apart more than it already had been.

“He already knows. Stop buying pointless time and just get it over with. It’ll be easier.”

Chief Hopper wasn’t Captain Daly, though. He wasn’t like any of the other police she dealt with in the past. The ones who blamed her for her fate and tried to turn her into the villain. The ones who didn’t hesitate to draw their weapons on her when they found her bleeding and begging for help in the forest.

No. Hopper was different. Maeven knew he couldn’t fully comprehend what she went through. She lived through what most people would find unimaginable. But Hopper at least had more empathy and a sense of emotional intelligence than any cop she’d crossed paths with.

“Uhm. . .I’d rather not, if that’s okay? Not yet, at least.” she asked, hoping her instincts were right, switching from tapping her sketchbook to scratching the back of her hands

Hopper frowned at the sight. Maeven’s nails were so sharp that her hands were red and threatening to break out in blood.

“I get it,” Hopper said to her. “It’s the first meeting. You’re a little on edge. I have you back here next Sunday, right?”

At the sound of his voice, Maeven ceased her scratching.

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, letting out a sigh of relief at his understanding. Hopper returned her nod before handing her a slip of paper he had just signed; a weekly attendance sheet that she would eventually show to her mom and Neil so they’d know she was ‘improving.’ She would probably get another one from the school counselor tomorrow.

“Just focus on getting yourself adjusted to Hawkins for the next seven days and then we can talk about your. . .situation,” Jim told her, once again treading lightly.

“I can do that,” Maeven agreed, tucking the piece of paper beneath the cover of her sketchbook.

“Alright, kid. You’re dismissed,” the chief said with a small wave of his hand. “Besides, I’m sure your mom’s probably anxious not having you around,” he joked, sure of himself that he wasn’t overexaggerating.

Maeven slipped her book and pencils back into her backpack before zipping it shut, scrambling out of her seat as she walked towards the door and pulled the knob. Before exiting, she took one last look at the Chief, still glancing at her file.

“Officer Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I. . .I really appreciate it,” she stuttered out.

“Anytime, Maeven,” Jim smiled back at her. As he watched her leave his office, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the little girl who awaited his return at his cabin in the woods. El and Maeven would get along well.

. . .

A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter coming out. I had to split it up so it wouldn't be too long. That doesn't necessarily mean that I don't like writing chapters at a longer length, but 20-25 pages is my comfort zone. I usually start by just outlining a chapter with all the dialogue I want to include and build the actions and descriptions around that.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The next one shouldn't take as long as this one did as I already have all the dialogue written out for it. I'm writing both chapters five and six at once. Please be sure to leave some kudos and comments, as they are my lifeblood and are incredibly helpful whenever I need inspiration. I'm glad that people seem to be resonating with Maeven. She's definitely the hardest I've worked on when it comes to all the characters I've created over the years.

The Spitifre Curse Taglist:

@yaidothat

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[citizenrecord]

Short Biography of Steve Jobs

Steven Paul Jobs was born on February 24, 1955 in San Francisco, California. His unwed biological parents, Joanne Schieble and Abdulfattah Jandali, put him up for adoption. Steve was adopted by Paul and Clara Jobs, a lower-middle-class couple, who moved to the suburban city of Mountain View a couple of years later.

The Santa Clara county, south of the Bay Area, became known as Silicon Valley in the early 1950s after the sprouting of myriads of semi-conductor companies in the area. As a result, young Steve Jobs grew up in a neighborhood filled with engineers working on electronics and other gizmos in their garages on weekends. This shaped his interest in the field as he grew up. At age 13, he met one the most important persons in his life: 18-year-old Stephen Wozniak, an electronics whiz-kid —and an incorrigible prankster, much like Steve himself.

Five years later, when Steve Jobs reached college age, he told his parents he wanted to enroll in Reed College — an expensive liberal arts college up in Oregon. Even though the tuition fees were astronomical for the poor couple, they had promised their son's biological parents he would get a college education, so they relented. Steve spent only one semester at Reed, then dropped out, as he was more interested in eastern philosophy, fruitarian diets, and LSD than in the classes he took. He moved to a hippie commune in Oregon where his main activity was cultivating apples.

A few months later, Steve returned to California to look for a job. He was hired at the young video game maker Atari, and used his wages to make a trip to India with one of his college friends, Dan Kottke, in order to 'seek enlightenment'. He came back a little disillusioned and started to take more interest in his friend Woz's new activities.

Woz, whose interest in electronics had grown stronger, was regularly attending meetings of a group of early computer hobbyists called the Homebrew Computer Club. They were the real pioneers of personal computing, a collection of radio jammers, computer professionals and enlightened amateurs who gathered to show off their latest prowess in building their own personal computer or writing software. The club started to gain popularity after the Altair 8800 personal computer kit came out in 1975.

The knowledge that Woz gathered at the Homebrew meetings, as well as his exceptional talent, allowed him to build his own computer board — simply because he wanted a personal computer for himself. Steve Jobs took interest, and he quickly understood that his friend's brilliant invention could be sold to software hobbyists, who wanted to write software without the hassle of assembling a computer kit. Jobs convinced Wozniak to start a company for that purpose: Apple Computer was born on April 1, 1976.

Although Markkula was a bit too optimistic (it actually took 7 years for Apple to make it), he was right that the company would become an overnight success. Because of its beautiful package, ease of use, and nifty features, the Apple II crushed most of its competition, and its sales made the Apple founders millionaires. The biggest surge in sales came after the introduction of VisiCalc, the first commercially successful spreadsheet program: hundreds of thousands of Americans, whether they be accountants, small business owners, or just obsessed with money, bought Apple IIs to make calculations at home.

Steve Jobs was a big believer in the Lisa computer initially. It was he who came up with the name. Indeed, in 1978, his ex-girlfriend from high school Chrisann Brennan gave birth to a little girl, who she named Lisa. Steve denied paternity, although it was obvious to everyone who knew him that he was the father, given the on-and-off relationship he still had with Chrisann at the time. Jobs refused to give any money to Chrisann, despite the millions he had accumulated at Apple. While in denial, he came up with the name "LISA" for the new computer Apple was building...

The following year, a tour of the computer research lab Xerox PARC made a huge impression on him. The scientists who worked there had invented a number of breakthrough technologies that would mark the industry for the coming decades, including the graphical user interface (GUI) and the mouse, Ethernet, laser printing and object oriented programming. Jobs became obsessed with the GUI which was a lot easier to use than the command-line interfaces of the day. Instead of learning a computer language, you only had to point at pictures to use it. He insisted the Lisa should have a GUI and a mouse, too. Read More On...

[arabian-batboy]

I feel like we’re witnessing a new trope in military propaganda media emerging and it’s the “lets have a whiny overly-dramatic white liberal girl say that killing innocent Arabs is bad on-screen” to send a message to the audience that being against the US’s military crimes in the Middle East is something that only dumb sensitive lefties with pronouns in their bio do.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Femme Fatale - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Alex x Reader (background J2) Rating: 18+ Tags: Dom/Sub relationships, Sub!Alex, Domme!Reader, Dom!Jensen, Sub!Jared, sex/bdsm club, voyeurism, exhibitionism, pegging, humiliation kink Word Count: 3.3k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Dom/Sub

A/N: Thank you so much for being my first ever commission Sin! I've had a lot of fun tackling this challenge because I've never written a Domme!reader before but I really appreciate you trusting me with your idea, and I hope I do it justice ❤️

Series Masterlist

This is a weird idea, even for Alex. A night out with his cast mates isn’t unusual, and Y/N has gone along on plenty of group dinners with Alex, Jared and Jensen (that were essentially double dates) before, but they usually ended by closing out the hotel bar or crashing in someone’s guest room. They had never ended up at a proper club before, let alone planned a whole evening around going to a specific one. But that’s the plan tonight.

When Alex informs her that the location was Misha’s suggestion, it makes even less sense to Y/N. Misha seems like he would be the least likely of all of them to actually enjoy clubbing but hey, what does she know?

“Alex, I don’t have anything to wear!” Y/N complains from inside their closet, hoping her boyfriend can hear her through the bathroom door.

“That cannot be true,” she can hear the amusement coupled with a light mix of exasperation in his tone.

“What did they tell you the dress code was?” Y/N calls as she continues to flip through the clothes hanging in front of her.

“Misha said, and I quote, ‘dress slutty’.” Alex appears in the doorway to the closet and leans against the frame, tucking his arms across his chest. Y/N actually does a double take when she sees him.

“I see you took that advice literally,” she eyes him, gaze dragging across his body and catching against each new feature she notices like sandpaper running against the grain. Alex is dressed casually, but most definitely sluttily too. A loose and frayed wife beater hangs off his shoulders, showing off his waist where one side is tucked into his shorts. The elastic of his boxers is sticking out over the shirt too, which is completely on purpose in a move to tease. The denim shorts are tight, torn-up, and just to the knee. Y/N has seen him wear them before, and she knows when he turns around she’ll have an amazing view of his ass.

“I’m good at following instructions,” Alex smiles, clearly pleased with himself that he’d successfully fulfilled his remit.

“So eager to please,” Y/N teases over her shoulder as she goes back to thumbing through outfit potentials. “Honestly, the fact that Misha is telling us to dress slutty and not Jared must mean dress really slutty.”

“You could just not wear anything,” Alex offers as a suggestion. “Nothing sluttier than free access.”

“In your dreams, babe.”

“How did you know?” Alex is mock horrified and you laugh along with him when he breaks character. “Still can’t decide?” and Y/N shakes her head in response. “Can I pick for you? I do have a pretty good memory of all your sluttiest outfits.”

“Hey! Who you callin’ a slut Mr. Slutty McTightShorts?” Y/N rounds on Alex, comically enraged.

“You, duh,” Alex laughs and pecks her on the cheek as he moves over to a drawer where Y/N keeps her underwear.

Alex goes straight for the lingerie, Y/N should have guessed, and he pulls out a matching set of lacy thong and longline bra, both enmeshed in patterns of criss-crossed elastic and ribbons. Then he ducks down to the bottom drawer where Y/N keeps a load of her old college clothes that she’s too sentimental to get rid of, and rummages through it, clearly looking for something specific. He finally liberates a skirt that barely has the right to be called a piece of clothing. Y/N can’t even remember why she owns that. Finally he reaches for a swingy tank made of a light gauzy material. It’s really meant to be a cover-up for the beach because of how loose and flowy it is but Y/N imagines that is Alex’s intention behind picking it – he knows it won’t stay on properly or do a single thing to hide the bra she’ll be wearing beneath it. Alex hands her the pile of clothes, again looking very pleased with himself.

“You’re really not pulling punches tonight, are ya?”

“I just want to show off how awesome my girlfriend is,” Alex shrugs.

“Yeah, you want to show off all of her, apparently,” Y/N holds up the small skirt skeptically.

“You’ll look incredible, scouts’ honour,” Alex swears, grinning.

“If we show up and the others aren’t dressed super slutty, I’m gonna maim things.”

“I won’t stop you,” Alex laughs and pushes Y/N out of the closet. “C’mon get dressed so we can go down some alcohol before the car gets here.”

They’ve both knocked back a beer and a shot when the car pulls up and a message pops into the group chat saying they’re here. The night is close and warm outside of the air conditioning, and for that reason at least Y/N is glad to be wearing such a small amount of clothing. When the young couple slides into the car they’re greeted by Jared, Jensen, Misha, and his wife Vicki – another surprise to Y/N, as she doesn’t come out with them too often. Something about tonight must be special.

“Hey hot stuff!” Jared greets them, grinning as he eyes them both up and down. Jensen pinches him on the leg. “Behave.” Jared doesn’t let it derail his examination.

“Thanks, I know, right?” Alex jokes and ruffles his hair, throwing Jared a wink. Y/N gives him a side eye, silently imitating Jensen’s instruction of behave. Alex grabs for her hand and kisses it in a gesture of reassurance, dropping their joined hands to his lap and keeping them there. Alex is a flirt, just like Jared, but Y/N knows that he would never stray from her. At least, not unless she tells him to.

The car proceeds to drive them across town to an area of L.A. Y/N isn’t familiar with. She and Alex haven’t lived in the city very long, so it’s not like she’s expecting to know every inch of its nightlife scene but this place seems much more out of the way than she was expecting them to be going. The streets they’re trundling down are dark, not bright and shining with neon and glittering lights like so much of downtown tends to be. The occasional person or couple is walking along the sidewalk, but overall it’s deserted by city standards.

“Where are we going again?” Y/N pipes up from her seat, looking out the window and spotting another couple in dark coats holding hands as they amble down the side street.

“We’re almost there,” Vicki smiles reassuringly at Y/N, then turns to Jensen. “Tom texted to let me know he’s set aside a table upstairs for us, so everyone can just watch or they can join in, whatever you want.”

“Who’s Tom?” Y/N asks curiously, she hasn’t heard the name before.

“He’s our boyfriend,” Misha answers matter of factly, like he’s trying not to betray any emotion around the statement until he can judge Y/N and Alex’s reactions to that news. Y/N can’t pretend she isn’t surprised, but the more she thinks about it the more she realises that Misha is always quite private about his and Vicki’s relationship – this must be why.

“Oh, cool dude,” Alex laughs, giving an approving nod, almost like he’s impressed with Misha’s nonconformity. Y/N smiles. Alex always loves finding out about what people have going on ‘outside the box’, it helps him come out of his own shell just a little bit more every time.

“Can’t wait to meet him,” Y/N chimes in, just to quiet the small hint of wariness she can see playing behind Misha’s eyes. He relaxes visibly and smiles, much more his carefree and goofy self in that instant.

“Oh, s’that it?” Jared points out the window to a dim neon sign and a small group of people sitting on benches and little round tables, smoking. The block letters shine against the rough brickwork of the building they’re mounted on, grey and sophisticated, unlike all the garish colours Y/N would usually expect from a nightclub.

Femme Fatale.

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect when they got inside but she never would have expected what she’s witnessing now. Femme Fatale is a swingers club. Not just that, it’s a BDSM swingers club.

How had they known? Y/N wonders. She and Alex don’t usually make a habit of discussing that aspect of their relationship with other people. Especially since Alex is still pretty new to being a Sub. He had toyed with the idea of being a Dom in a previous relationship, and technically he labels himself as a Switch when people ask, but he once he had told Y/N that since he met her she brings out a part of himself he hadn’t really connected with properly before, and he loves it.

His eyes are wide now, blown out with obvious lust as Y/N watches him watch his surroundings. Jared is the same, and Jensen is watching him just as intently as Y/N is watching Alex. With how they act, Y/N always suspected that Jensen and Jared were in a Dom/Sub relationship, and she was quietly smug that she had been right. Misha and Vicki had left the party at their table on the exposed balcony as soon as their boyfriend Tom, who Y/N now understands is the manager of this club, had shown them in and sat them down. Now, Y/N knows what Vicki had meant in the car about them just being able to watch if that’s what they wanted to do, instead of joining in. Misha and Vicki have clearly opted to join in, and Y/N can’t see where they went off to, lost in the heaving crowd of people below them.

So far, she’s enjoying watching, and Alex clearly is too. His slutty shorts are doing nothing to hide the semi he’d popped almost the second they walked in. It isn’t so much her thing, but Y/N knows Alex has an exhibitionist streak, and she can easily imagine what must be running through his mind right now. Being out in the middle of everything, shown off, performing. And Y/N thinks she might like showing him off, showing everyone what a good little boy he can be for his Mistress, showing everyone how much control she has over him. How much he wants to do everything she asks of him, to please her.

“Jared,” Y/N looks away from Alex when Jensen speaks, and Alex looks up from the ground floor where he had been watching some of the people on display. “Do you want to go play?” Jensen asks neutrally, very carefully leaving the choice up to Jared, without betraying his own feelings on the notion.

“Can we?” Jared’s eyes light up instantly and Y/N smirks to herself. Jared and Alex are more alike than she realised.

“Yeah, c’mon baby boy,” Jensen smiles indulgently and holds out his hand to Jared, who takes it and follows him down the stairs to the play areas. Y/N looks back to Alex, whose eyes are glued to his cast mates’ backs.

“What about you, baby boy?” Y/N purrs, using Jared’s nickname teasingly and Alex blushes as she runs her nails up his bare arm. She’d never called him that before but it’s clear he likes it. “Do you want to go play?”

“I–” Alex breaks off, considering. “Can we just watch for a bit? See what everyone’s doing?” he asks nervously.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Y/N smiles and offers Alex her hand. They make their way down the iron grate staircase into the madness that has been churning below them this whole time. It’s easy to spot Jared and Jensen, despite the crowd. They stick out above the heads of a lot of the people nearby because most of them are bent over or crouched down to some extent.

They’re at the edge of the dance floor, in a space that’s still public but is cordoned off for more… intimate play. There’s two St. Andrew’s crosses bolted on the wall, both currently occupied with girls – one wearing an assortment of leather straps with metal studs poking out of them, and one wearing absolutely nothing but the cuffs binding her to the beams. Leather couches and benches are dotted around the floorspace, all covered with partially to wholly naked occupants engaging in every variety of sexual activity Y/N can imagine. Alex looks like a kid in a candy store watching it all unfold before him.

“You can watch whoever you want, but no touching without my permission, okay?” Y/N speaks into Alex’s ear so he can hear her over the bass of the music that’s vibrating through the crowd around them.

“Yes, ma’am,” Alex salutes her cheekily and starts to move away but she grabs the neck of his shirt and hauls him back, looking him sternly in the eye.

“Do you want to try that again with a little respect, baby?” Alex drops his eyes and looks penitent.

“Yes, Mistress.” He gives her a weak smile, asking for forgiveness, and Y/N decides to let him off this time.

“Good boy,” she leans up and kisses his forehead before giving him a swift pat on the backside. “Have fun, I’m going to grab a drink,” Y/N points to one of the bars lining the far side of the play area. “Find me that way if you want me, okay baby?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex nods meekly, giving Y/N a small kiss before he ducks into the crowd towards a group of spectators all watching a girl tied to a bench getting teased by her Domme and a flogger. Typical, Y/N smiles to herself and makes her way to the bar to order a glass of wine.

Wine in hand, Y/N spins on her heel and looks around the room. Alex is still where she left him and a few groups over she spots Jensen, his back to her, watching something else she can’t quite make out between everyone’s bodies. Jared doesn’t appear to be anywhere though. Y/N decides to have a look at whatever Jensen’s observing, curious what’s got him so stoically still. There’s a lot going on around him but it becomes instantly clear which performer Jensen’s watching when Y/N approaches and peeks over his shoulder.

Jared is on his hands and knees, in amongst a crowd of people. There’s a sort of black leather platform that he’s perched on, so they’re elevated from the floor. It puts Jared’s mouth at the perfect height to reach people’s waists, which he’s currently putting to good use by swapping between two men with their cocks standing out stiff from their jeans. Jensen is watching closely, smirking at the crowd all raptly watching his boyfriend. When Jared takes the man with the bigger cock so deep that his nose is pressed to the man’s stomach, Y/N can’t help but laugh.

“I see why you like him so much,” Y/N bumps her shoulder against Jensen and he jumps, looking down at her and grinning when his brain catches up to her comment.

“Yeah he’s good with his mouth,” Jensen agrees, smiling proudly.

“Nice of you to loan him out.”

“I like to think I’m generous,” Jensen shrugs. “But not too generous,” Jensen catches the arm of a man trying to round the platform to get to Jared’s ass instead of his mouth. “Sorry man, no guys back there.”

“Oops, sorry dude,” the guy backs off quickly, and Y/N is impressed by how respectful the whole exchange is.

“Is that Jensen only territory?” Y/N questions, wiggling her brow.

“Yeah I don’t like other guys fuckin’ him,” Jensen explains. “But I like girls pegging him, it’s fun to humiliate him like that.” Just then Y/N spots a small woman climbing into a strap on with the help of her partner, who drops to her knees to suck on the dildo a little before covering it in lube from the bottle on the ground by the platform.

“No kidding,” Y/N whistles lowly, in awe as she watches the girl push the black silicone inside Jared, inch by inch. The way his hole is pulsing around the intrusion is almost hypnotic. She tries to picture what Alex would look like, on his hands and knees amongst all these people, everyone watching him get split open by some little girl with a big dick… everyone seeing him loving it, like Jared clearly is.

Y/N hears Jensen laugh beside her and she jumps a little, clearing her throat in embarrassment at being caught out staring at Jared’s asshole so blatantly.

“Sorry,” she clears her throat again and takes a sip of wine to hide behind her glass.

“It’s okay,” Jensen laughs again. “I wouldn’t let him do this if I didn’t want people to watch him.”

“Good point,” Y/N acknowledges, feeling a little better. “And um, out of curiosity,” Y/N pauses, trying to frame her question politely. “How did you get Jared to agree to the pegging?” Jensen raises an eyebrow at Y/N curiously. “You know, one Domme to another,” Y/N elaborates, so Jensen doesn’t think she’s trying to ask if she can peg Jared. That’s the furthest thing from her mind right now.

“No kidding?” Jensen chuckles, clearly impressed. “Well, I don’t know what you and Alex get up to normally, but it wasn’t too much of a stretch for Jared. He gets off on humiliation and I get off on humiliating him, and this fits that bill for both of us.” At that comment, Jensen looks back to Jared and smirks before reaching down to adjust himself subtly, and Y/N laughs. “What about it is calling to you?” Jensen asks, and Y/N has to pause to consider that before she can hit on the answer.

“It’s the one part of Alex I don’t think anyone’s touched. I mean he’s never mentioned it if he has done it before but I don’t think he has. The idea of marking him like that, of having something no one else can have from him…” Y/N trails off, letting her thoughts spiral as she feels the space between her legs heat up. When she adjusts her stance, she feels the slick brush of wet panties against her skin. Yes, she loves that idea. The thought of taking that last first, touching a part of Alex that no one else has touched. Being literally inside of him. Fucking him into submission would take on a whole new meaning.

“Yeah, that’s hot,” Jensen agrees and Y/N smiles dreamily. Now she just needs to figure out how to bring it up to Alex. “Hey,” Jensen taps her on the shoulder and points over Jared to the other side of the crowd, “you might not have to do as much convincing as you think.”

Standing across from them, Jared still on his hands and knees between them being fucked at both ends, is Alex. His eyes are fixed steadily on Jared, the rest of the world a mere blur around him and the object of his focus. His pupils are huge, in part due to the dark of the club but Y/N knows it’s also to do with desire. She watches his eyes dart back and forth and realises that he’s not just watching Jared, he’s watching the dildo that’s steadily fucking in and out of Jared’s ass, following its movements closely. He licks his lips and Y/N smiles. Jensen is right, she’s not going to have to convince him at all. He already wants this.

Part 2 - read ahead on WordPress here

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[pepper-up-potion]

The early hours of the morning (Oliver Wood x Fem!reader)

Summary: Oliver helps reader sneak out so they can spend some time together.

A/n: This was very self indulgent. I wrote it last night when I was thinking about how much I wish I could sneak out and see my boyfriend. Since I can’t because of the lockdown I wrote a fic about it instead. This was initially going to be a blurb and I just went off so I hope you like it.

Warnings: mention of strict parents but other than it’s fluff. Prob writing mistakes. Let me know if you think of any that I missed.

Word count: 2620

(Y/n) paces her room, the letter from Oliver clasped tightly in her hand. She’s so nervous, her stomach is flipping upside down and then rightside up and upside down again. It’s the first week of July. (Y/n) has come back home for the summer to her muggle house in the suburbs. (Y/n)’s parents have always been strict. She was often the first to leave parties when she was little and rarely did her parents let her stay for sleepovers at friends’ houses. When old family friends her age have parties, they are very reluctant to let her go. It was then no surprise when her parents refused her request to go stay at her boyfriend’s over the summer.

(Y/N) can normally accept her fate but some might say Oliver has a bad influence on her. She would argue the opposite. Oliver brings out a side of her she’s never seen before. With him, she’s adventurous, wild, spontaneous, fun, goofy. She feels her age with Oliver. Oliver is teaching her that sometimes, most of the time, it’s okay to put yourself first.

Maybe it’s because she misses him. Maybe it’s because she’s tired of following the rules. Maybe it’s simply because she wants to, but something has taunted her to agree to disobey her parents. Oliver is on his way to see her and she’s pacing her room waiting for him. She feels excited, there’s something exhilarating about doing what she wants. She feels scared, her parents are in the room next door and they could catch her. She feels giddy, she hasn’t seen Oliver in a while and it almost feels like a first date.

The thought of seeing Oliver calms her a little. She‘s always felt safe with him. She knows that no matter what happens, he‘ll be there for her. It brings a small smile to her face. She settles on her bed and looks at Oliver‘s squished writing in his letter.

“I’ll meet you at 12:00am sharp.” She read before drifting her eyes to her alarm clock next to her bed. The clock ticks from 11:59 to 12:00. There’s a sudden knock that makes her jump. She looks to her door but it doesn’t open. She stands moving closer to the door. Her parents should be asleep by now so she assumes it’s Oliver. Her heart is quickly bumping her rib cage and she feels dizzy with nerves. There’s another knock but she realizes it isn’t coming from the door. The sound is too quiet and muffled to come from the door. She turns to her window and finds the source of the knock. It’s Oliver. Her Oliver.

She quickly walks up to the window, a wide smile on her face. She slides the window open and peaks her head out. Oliver is on a broom, hovering next to her house. He leans over and links his lips to hers. It’s a quick peck but it fills her stomach with butterflies.

“Miss me?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“More than you think.” She admits, unable to preserve her delight.

He smiles softly. “I missed you too.” He says, almost in a whisper. Lost in the moment (y/n) had not noticed Oliver was holding a second broom in his hand. Once he sees her looking at it, he puts his arm out for her to take the broom. His smile is mischievous. Maybe this is why people say he’s a bad influence. (Y/n) has a defiant look as she firmly grasps the broom and pulls herself onto her window ledge. She hops onto the broom and hovers alongside Oliver.

Oliver gives her another peck on the lips before flying off, (y/n) quickly following suit. They fly high into the sky, passing through the clouds. Oliver being Oliver makes flying a competition. He zooms through the sky and (y/n) won’t go down without a fight. She leans forward and her broom speeds up. She can hear the wind whooshing past her as she cuts through the air. The feeling of the wind is liberating. She feels invincible. Here in the sky, no one can tell her to come down. No one can tell her what to do.

She catches up to Oliver and smirks at the look of surprise on his face. They are tail to tail for the rest of the trip. One minute (y/n) has the advantage, next it’s Oliver. After many snarky comments and flirtatious tease, Oliver signals to slow down. Together they fly closer to the horizon, they’re out of the clouds and (y/n) can see a small town with little shops and houses scattered between tall trees. Oliver points to a house that she assumes he means to tell is his. They land on the outskirts of town and Oliver drops his broom and runs to pull (y/n) into a hug. He sweeps her up off the ground and twirls her as he exclaims in loud happy cheers. (Y/n) giggles and buries her head into Oliver’s neck. She smiles at the familiar feeling of his arms around her waist, his smell, his laugh. It fills her with delight. She’s convinced it’s the best night of her summer and the night has barely begun.

He links his hand with hers and guides her back to his broom. He bends down and picks it up before starting his trek towards town.

“That was a good fly. You kept me on my toes there.” He laughs happily, always up for a challenge. “I’d take you on my quidditch team any day.” He admits.

“Wow.” She exclaims. “That’s high praise coming from mister quidditch know-it-all.” It’s a playful tease, there’s nothing but adoration in the comment. Oliver bows his head sheepishly. (Y/n) giggles at his reaction, proud she could get him all flustered. He stops suddenly and turns to face (y/n). Her giggles are replaced with a look of confusion.

“What’s wrong? Why are we stopped?” She asks while scanning Oliver’s face for an indication.

“Merlin I’m so happy to see you.” He blurts, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you’ve agreed to see me.”

“Don’t remind me. I’ll get so angsty that I’ll want to go back.” The thought of disobeying her parents fills her with guilt. “Let’s not talk about that. Tonight it’s just you and me.”

Oliver drops his broom and nods sympathetically before taking her broom and discarding it too. He gathers both (y/n)’s hands in his and places a soft kiss on each hand. He drops them and steps forward, cupping her cheek and kissing her lips. It’s a slow kiss. They relax into each other relishing in the feeling they’ve missed so dearly. It feels like coming home after a terrible bus ride. Everything else in the world is forgotten. It’s exactly what she wanted, just her and Oliver.

They kiss for a long time. When they finally pull apart, Oliver places his forehead on hers as he gently rubs her cheek with his thumb. She dips her head into his hand deepening the caress. His eyes are soft as he looks at her admiringly.

“You’re beautiful.” He whisperers. Butterflies flutter in (y/n)’s stomach again. She thinks Oliver should add it to his list of qualities. If he were applying for a job he could write: good at quidditch and giving my girlfriend butterflies and she would most willingly confirm the statement. She smiles and chuckles awkwardly before pulling Oliver into her arms. They hold each other in silence making up for missed time.

“I missed you so much.” It's a pained whisper. She can hear the emotion in his voice as he runs his finger through her hair. She squeezes him tighter into her arms. “I missed you too.” She whispers back. The moment feels so delicate and precious. It feels as though speaking in a normal register would shatter it.

They finally separate and start walking again. Once into town, Oliver points to all the different shops and neighbours’ houses as he provides detailed explanations of each place. It’s a small wizarding town she had never heard of until she met Oliver. He’s told her about it many times but it’s even better than he described. She secretly dreams of spending more time in the town. She hopes to one day walk through it during the day, getting to put a face to all the names Oliver is sharing.

Oliver stops in front of a house and turns to (y/n). “Well, this is me.” He says rocking onto his heels. It’s hard to see the details of the house, with the dim street lights but it has a cottage-like look to it. It’s a dark wooden, three-floor house with a steep roof and navy blue window panels. It looks a little crooked, much like the other buildings in the town. There’s a chimney puffing purple smoke that smells of lavender. It’s simple, small and homey.

“I love it.” She turns her gaze back to Oliver with bright eyes. His eyes widen and he smiles wide. “Wanna see the inside?” He asks, clasping her hand. She nods enthusiastically and he leads her to the front door.

“We have to be quiet, my parents are sleeping.” He explains before stepping in. The door creaks behind them and they both freeze, shoulders tight with worry. The house remains quiet and they take it as an indication to continue. Oliver guides her through the front entrance, into the living room and kitchen area. It’s (y/n)’s first time in a wizard house. She’s slightly disappointed with how “normal” it looks. The decor is rustic and simple. The house looks well lived in, everything has a purpose. It looks like a proper home. She finds it very comforting. Oliver places a hand on her lower back and stretches his other arm in front of him. She follows his arm and sees an open door that leads into darkness. She looks at him hesitantly and he gives her an encouraging nod and a gentle push on her back.

“It’s the basement. We’ll get more privacy there than in my room.” He explains in a whisper. She nods and walks down the stairs after lighting her wand. Once in the room, she looks around as Oliver turns on the candles. It fills the room with a soft glow as she takes note of the futon couch in the middle of the room, the bookshelf in the corner, the coffee table pressed up against the wall, the broom wax kit on the table. Everything about the room screams Oliver so it evidently becomes her new favourite room. She makes herself at home and throws herself onto the couch with a happy sigh.

She pats at the spot next to her on the futon and looks at Oliver expectantly. He chuckles as he settles next to her. “You’re an absolute delight.” He states, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

They start off the night by playing wizards chess. Oliver’s competitive side comes out as he tries to get under (y/n)’s skin. He pouts a little when he loses but she makes up for it in cuddles. They’ve moved the futon so it’s a bed rather than a couch allowing them more space to stretch out. (Y/n) is lying on top of Oliver. She’s running her hands through his hair as he rubs circles on her back. Oliver gives her all the news of the wizarding world. He talks especially about quidditch which she gladly listens to. She loves when his eyes light up and he talks fast and passionately and he occasionally emphasizes his point with hand gestures.

The rest of the night they make out on the futon, occasionally mumbling sweet nothings as they catch their breath. His hands travel all over her body as he pulls her closer to him. They get lost in the feeling of each other’s touch. It’s grounding, warm and she easily forgets everything else.

There are no windows in the room and she has no way to judge the time. She guesses they’ve been up for most of the night and it is now far into the early hours of the morning. At that moment, it’s not important, nothing matters other than him. Oliver’s strong build under her and his big arms wrapped around her make her feel safe and peaceful. She’s hit with a sudden wave of tiredness and soon she’s drifted off to sleep. Oliver continues to rub circles between her shoulder blades as she sleeps until he too, dozes off.

When she finally wakes she feels groggy and confused. They didn’t get much sleep, maybe two hours. Oliver is mumbling something but she can hardly make sense of it. A sudden wave of adrenaline hits her and she shoots up with a terrified look. Oliver props his head up to better look at her. He goes to ask her what’s wrong but she beats him to it.

“Oliver, what time is it?” She's shaking as he fiddles around her looking for his watch that he discarded somewhere. “Oli!” She whines impatiently. He finally grabs a hold of his watch and winces. “What? Oli what time?” There’s panic in her voice.

“7:00.” He states hesitantly. Before he can calm her down she’s up, gathering her shoes and jacket. He’s right behind her, stomping on a shoe after the other. They run out grabbing the brooms in the front entrance. She’s not three steps onto the street before she’s straddling her broom and pushing off the ground. Oliver mimics her, quickly catching up to her in the sky.

“Race ya.” He shouts over the howling wind.

“Oliver.” She scolds. “I am late!”

Oliver shrugs. “Can't change the time but you can make the best of it.” He states simply. (Y/n)’s eyes narrow as she darts forward. “See you there.” She shouts behind her, turning her head just in time to see Oliver’s shocked face.

Once in her neighbourhood, they carefully scan the streets to make sure they can hover down safely. It’s a Sunday morning, most people are still sleeping. They quietly fly to her bedroom window. She crawls back through it and hands Oliver the broom. “Thanks, Oli. That was the most fun I’ve had all summer.” She wonders why she hadn’t accepted to do this sooner. Oliver’s face twists into a mischievous smirk. “I‘ll see you tomorrow? Same time?” He raises a brow as if to say I dare you to say yes. She smiles widely as she pushes her upper body back out the window for one last kiss.

“Don’t be late.” She chirps. She shimmies back into her room blowing a kiss to Oliver as he flies away. She removes her shoes and jacket before curling back into her bed. There's a knock and she looks to the window. There’s no one there. She frowns slightly as her bedroom door opens.

“Everything okay?” Asks her mom. “I thought I heard something.”

(Y/n) mumbles some gibberish pretending to have been woken up by her. Her mother concludes it was just (y/n)’s owl and retreats back to her room. (Y/n) plops her head back onto her pillow as she lets the effects of the night settle. The excitement of sneaking out of her house and into his. The wind in her face as she zoomed through the sky. The feeling of her lips on his. It was all so exhilarating and she couldn’t wait to repeat it again tomorrow.

[curly-bangtan]

Blizzard (M)

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

Word Count: 15.5k oops

A/N: (This fic is written in parallel to Heatwave, with an opposing concept in mind. You don’t have to read Heatwave to read this, but it would be interesting and funny to see the differences in the two scenarios that both lead to roommates hooking up.) Also, happy birthday, bunny boy! Sorry this was a day late, I was honestly swarmed. I love you, koo. Writing this very much gave me a bias crisis but it was all worth it. Enjoy! :”)

PS. Think April 2019 Jungkook 

.

‘A severe snowstorm is set to hit us this weekend with temperatures dropping down to -16˚C. It is therefore ill-advised for anyone to leave their houses during this period until the blizzard subsides as the fifth snow-induced traffic accident has been reported this week in our town…’

You have always marvelled at how the weather lady announces such things with such a passionate captivating tone.

‘The calculated probability of a city-wide power cut is currently at 72%, so please be well-equipped to stay indoors for the next two days.’

Oh shit. A power cut?

This is not good at all. Not like you have any plans for this weekend anyway, and you wouldn’t necessarily mind being stuck inside since you are good at entertaining yourself. But to possibly have no warm water, no internet in the duration of these few days?

You are currently snugly rolled up in the warmth of your blanket burrito, a mug of chamomile tea fitted in your hands, the steam of which evaporates under your chin into a slick coat. Friday evenings have never been eventful for you as long as Jimin doesn’t drag you out to some bar with him. As introverted as one can get, you much prefer staying in and watching TV or endlessly browsing the web.

The distinct rattling of keys spins your attention to the front door. Hearing the plunge of the metal into the keyhole is strangely satisfying to your ears. In steps a pink-nosed, frost-dusted Jungkook, all wrapped up in winter apparel thick enough to make him waddle clumsily.

A gust of cold flares inside from the harsh outdoors, stray flakes of snow flying in after him and landing on the rich oak tiles of the foyer. From the couch, you see his silhouette breathe out a visible grey huff. The door behind him falls shut, once again entrapping the warm temperature into the confines of these walls.

You watch your roommate, humming to himself with his black earpods hooked in his ears, as he unties the scarf around his neck. He probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet; he’s always been a little clueless afterall.

Then he looks up and meets your lingering gaze.

You both jump a little, his humming ceases instantly, eyes scrambling, darting away to your surroundings: the quiet television, the arching lamp, the white powdered window panes. Anywhere but at each other.

Clearing your throat, you greet him softly . ‘Hi.’ Your thumb rubs at the lip-shaped tea stain on the rim of your mug.

‘Um, hi. Good evening, noona.’ He dips his head at you, hood drooping lower over his head. You are two years his senior, and despite your supposed familiarity, he insists on formalities.

The weather lady has now been replaced with the anchorman, who is droning on about the car accident this morning. Awkwardness hangs in the air between you, as it always does every time you speak. It’s now your turn to say something, you’re painfully aware. But what do you say?

‘Snow storm.’ It is a statement more than anything. As if he hasn’t noticed… Nice one. You immediately want to hide your face in the mint furry throw you’re wrapped in.

‘Yeah. Snow storm.’ The rubbery sound of the careless removal of his shoes against the floor is louder than his response. ‘Jimin didn’t make it.’

Your blood freezes. ‘Wait what?! Oh my god! What happened to him?’ It takes the blanket sliding off you for you to realise that you’ve stood up abruptly. Your body is immediately flushed with a breeze of cold, devoid of insulation.

The car accident… It can’t be…

Jungkook’s attention flickers to the glaring screen as he paces towards you and realises how he must’ve sounded. ‘Woah, sorry, I worded it badly. I mean, Jimin’s stuck at Taehyung’s because the snow is too thick for him to drive back. And the service on his phone is whack, so he can’t reach you. Taehyung told me. Sorry, I didn’t mean he didn’t make it.’ Nervous chuckle. Scratching the back of his head.

Never has he said this many words to you in one go, this must be a record. That, as well as your own silly misunderstanding of his words, makes you release a humoured breath. ‘Oh right… Haha… I’m stupid.’

‘No. my bad.’

Wow. If you two keep this up, this might just be your longest running conversation in the history of living together.

Because he’s looking at the floor rather than you, you feel the liberation to look directly at his face. His round nose is red from the freezing temperature, his teeth gnawing at his chapped lips. You follow his gaze travel across the dark wooden panels, reaching a halt at your feet.

‘You’ve got a hole in your sock, noona.’ He states.

Indeed you do. Under his wide-eyed glare, you can’t help but curl your toes inwards as if it would hide your pinkie jutting out of the fabric. The way he addresses you, how his lips form a pouted ring when he pronounces the “oo”, makes you particularly self conscious. ‘Oh… Yeah, I know, it’s fine. It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’ These socks have sheltered your feet for three winters only to betray you now, during a bloody blizzard. The icy floor licks at your exposed skin tauntingly.

Silence draws taut between you. Like you’re tied to opposite ends of a string and are both trying desperately to escape, to walk away from each other.

It’s his move now… Why isn’t he saying something? But at the same time, what can he possibly respond to ‘It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’?

‘Right… See you.’ Jungkook nods politely and heads for his room. And you know you probably won’t see him reemerge until tomorrow; it’s practically his batcave in there.

A shudder courses through your body. Though it’s not from the cold but rather the embarrassment of that encounter. Quickly switching off the TV, you hide back in the comforts of your blanket like a Halloween ghost and scurry into your own room to avoid seeing him again.

.

Jeon Jungkook.

Even the thought of his name makes you crease inward involuntarily like it’s some bad memory. Despite having lived under the same roof for more or less six months, neither of you have warmed to the other in the slightest. It’s not that you have anything against him; you’re sure he must be a lovely boy, but…

Well, when you put two shy individuals next to each other, you can’t really expect them to bond over their bashfulness. No, they both tend to retract into their shells.

How you came about living together is three simple syllables: Park Jimin. If it wasn’t for this one common thread you share, your worlds would never have collided.

Ever the caring friend, it goes without saying that Jimin would rent out his vacant room in his three-bedroom house to you without even a second of hesitation after Hoseok ditches the boys to move in with his girlfriend. You’ve met all his friends before. Jimin is a social butterfly afterall, how could he resist forcing all his best mates into a confined space and make them talk to each other, or more commonly known as a party?

Namjoon and you get along just fine, seeing as you both are whores for literature. Seokjin? As long as you compliment his cooking and force a giggle at his jokes, he’ll accept your friendship. Surprisingly, Yoongi took a liking to you; you guess is due to your mild mellow nature which must clear his headaches caused by this chaotic bunch. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok took a liking to you, well, because he’s Hoseok and incapable of negativity. Much to Jimin’s jealousy, you have a soft spot for Taehyung, his mysterious charm and boyish charisma; your friendship was almost instant.

But then Jungkook…

Your introduction was a blur of awkward hellos and unmet eyes. Every time you spoke to each other, it’s a nervous stutter from him or unwarranted silence from you. Worse, if the two of you happened to bump into each other in public, neither of you knew whether or not to say hi and commence a conversation like normal acquainted people, so it always ended up being an uncomfortably long pause before nodding out of courtesy then parting ways. It’s not like you belong to the same friendship group and see each other every week or anything.

Jungkook’s playful childisness shines brightly when surrounded by the boys, witch-cackle laugh and all. However, for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, this goofy side to him is immediately switched off in your presence, as if you’re the rain that extinguishes the flame of his candle. His body stiffens, eyes widen, voice stammers. Which only leads you to mirror his behaviour.

‘He’s just really uncomfortable around girls.’ Jimin has tried to offer the only plausible explanation. ‘Poor kid went to an all boys’ school his whole life, has only ever had one girlfriend who dumped him on their one year anniversary. Your femaleness scares him.’

That would be kind of cute, you guess, if you weren’t also a socially-uncomfortable hermit who requires soft gentle prodding in order to befriend. Because then you become two logs sitting beside each other, neither willing to inch towards the other.

Forgive Jimin’s mistake of thinking that sharing a roof would change this. Because how wrong was he… If anything, it only led to increased timidity around each other.

When you first moved in, Jungkook was eager to help you carry and unpack everything, seeing as he is the most physically apt person in the house. So you thought that it was his first step towards you, and that your dynamic was finally making progress into becoming one that’s more comfortable. He even lingered around your room the first few days with Jimin to help you open all your cardboard boxes.

However, he has since struggled to utter more than five words to you. Which has continued forth until this day. In the morning rush to class, you never encounter him due to your proneness to punctuality and his to tardiness. If you ever do, it’s only ever just a quick good morning, noona without looking up from his cereal. You both enjoy the safety of your own rooms, hence rarely peak your head out unless it’s for food. Jimin is always the one to drag you out by the foot, even if its just to his room or the sofa to watch a film with him. You say drag, but really you just enjoy seeing Jimin all pouty and whiny and sucking up to you in order to earn precious quality time with you; you actually enjoy being around Jimin. It’s worse for Jungkook though because he has his own ensuite bathroom, orders Deliveroo instead of coming out to eat with you two, and only ever joins social gatherings that you’re also involved in if a high enough bribe is offered.

Hence the time you and Jungkook are exposed to each other gradually diminished over time despite being roommates. At first you only suspected, but now you know for a fact, that he is purposely avoiding you like the plague.

It baffles you, if Jimin’s theory is true, how he could possibly be scared of you, regardless of his shyness towards the female specimen. Look at you, you’re this soft-mannered, quiet-spoken creature with a meek presence. You have more reason to be intimidated by his melon-sized biceps and aggressive shouts that echo from his room when he’s gaming at 2am.

So due to this mutually reciprocated mousiness, this awkward friendship-but-not-quite thing, has never been overcome in these months.

This is not a result of lack of trying, at least from your end. You do try to talk to him, exerting enough friendliness to burst your balloon of introversion. And you suppose he does make as much effort as he can as well. He once left you a note telling you to help yourself to the leftover pizza in the fridge. On your birthday, he gave you a card in which he drew cute little cartoon illustrations of you three housemates and wrote a short message.

Happy birthday, Y/N noona!

You are such a kind person, I hope we can speak more.

Jungkook :)

You thought the exclamation mark and smiley face were above and beyond for his standards. It made you smile for the rest of the day.

.

It’s 6:23pm and your growling stomach is exacerbated by the cold that has made itself at home in your bones. You’ve always been an early dinner person while Jimin and Jungkook are the opposite.

You’ve managed to get a hold of Jimin through Taehyung; your FaceTime call with him lasted a total of twelve minutes before the connection got too poor that it hung up on its own. Berating Jimin for leaving you alone with Jungkook, especially in this snow storm where everyone is basically on house arrest, all he did was laugh at your feign annoyance. You know it isn’t Jimin’s fault but you still like to blame him for all the awkward predicaments that are bound to happen.

After this chapter of the book you’re reading, you’ll go out to the kitchen and make some dinner, you decide.

Wait a second... Do you even have enough food in the pantry to last a whole weekend? Particularly since Jungkook can easily demolish three bowls of rice and a whole pound of meat, and still have room for dessert?

Looking out the window, you realise it’s snowing way too hard for you to feel confident to pop to the nearest grocery store without slipping and dying.

Shit! What are you going to eat these few days? Especially since the electricity can cut any minute?

Just then, you hear the echo of the front door shutting. Oh no… Jungkook did not just go out in this weather. He probably noticed the lack of food as well and decided to go for a shop. You know what he’s like, he’s a boy who’s really certain of his capabilities, over certain in fact. He probably does not see the hazard of leaving the house in such heavy snow, especially in the evening. Because nothing stands in the way between Jungkook and Food.

Do you go after him? Hell, if you do, you would probably get lost somewhere and slowly freeze to your inevitable death. You can barely navigate in perfect daylight.

Scrambling for your phone, you begin searching for his number. You’ve embarrassingly only called him once, and that was when you and Jimin got locked out of the house after a pub night.

No one is picking up.

In fact, when you check your screen, you don’t even have signal. The blizzard must be getting so bad that it’s refracting the radio waves. Which means it’s even worse for Jungkook to be out right now.

He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it’s okay to just take a walk to the supermarket right now in the middle of a snow storm? You’re such an idiot. Why were you too lazy to stock up on food during the day?

You pace around your room, phone clutched in your hand in case you miraculously get signal somehow. How on earth would you explain to Jimin that your roommate, his friend, whom he left in your care since you’re his senior, went out in a blizzard to buy food that you were supposed to have gotten this morning, and ended up dead from hypothermia?

Are you overreacting? Surely you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine! Deep breaths.

He’s going to come back any minute now and see you losing your mind over nothing. Right? Right.

Jungkook isn’t going to die. You’re being paranoid. Ridiculous. Overly anxious as usual.

But you can’t help yourself from pressing your face against your window to try to peek outside for a sign of him. The glass is ice cold against your skin, and it sends a blood-chilling shock through your veins. You can barely make out any shapes in the sea of greys and whites.

If you can’t even see out the window, how is he walking outside right now?

Screw it, you’re going to find him.

You’re a tornado getting dressed, whipping on your massive faux-fur lined puffer coat over two layers of fleece. A pair of gloves, double layer of socks, snow boots. Useless phone and hand warmers shoved in your pockets, you storm out of the house.

The cold that greets you burns up your nostrils and painfully invade your lungs. Snow is flying directly at your face, and you’re barely sheltered by your hood as you feel the icy flakes stab at your skin and melt away. Step by wary step, you steadily walk off your porch, careful not to slip. Your heart leaps out of your chest when your feet sink down at least 10 inches of snow, your squeal is muffled by the scarf you’re using as a ski mask.

It’s now been at least 10 minutes since he’s left. Jungkook is a fast walker, but in the snow, perhaps you could catch up with him.

The flickering lamp posts light up the night, but they may as well not be working because all you can see is white. Barely able to keep your eyes open, and batting away the heavy wind that’s threatening to blow you over, you trek in the direction of the local supermarket.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you realise that you don’t recognise the way anymore. Everything is a blur of snow. The cars, houses, street signs. All snow. Google maps is failing you; you’ve given up removing your gloves each time, your fingers instantly freezing at the exposure, to zoom in or rotate the navigation which keeps hopping from location to location.

You’re utterly and undeniably - lost.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you just plop down on your ass in defeat.

Where the hell are you? Where the hell is Jungkook?

Fear and frustration bubbles in your chest. It must have been half an hour now since you left the house. Surely he should be back, and surely he would’ve intercepted you on the way. That could either mean one of two possibilities: he got lost, slash, injured, slash, died on his way, or you have somehow strayed from the route to the store and he’s now frantically searching for you.

The lump in your throat festers into a ball of panic and despair. Looking around you, there’s absolutely no one. Just eerily-still buildings and snow-hidden cars. The only sound is the howl of the winter gust and your own uneven breathing.

You’re scared, and cold, and alone.

Why the hell did you think you could find him in this snow storm? You watch your warm visible exhale disperse in the icy air, the stinging of desperate tears piercing the back of your eyes. What are you supposed to do now?

And then it hits you. Perhaps you could trace your steps back since your feet have imprinted a trail in the snow. Looking behind you, you see that the downpour of snow has already began filling the footprints nearest to you. You’re praying that they haven’t already entirely covered your earlier steps closer to the house.

Gathering yourself together, you exert a lot of effort to stand up from the ground. Your butt is now wet, and a damp chill is seeping into your underwear. Determined, you follow your footsteps, which are growing fainter, back home.

You’re hoping you recognise the way now, that you’re not just convincing yourself that the street looks familiar.

Then an awful realisation hits you.

Both your hands are stuffed into your pockets, holding those hand-warming packets and your phone. But not your keys. You forgot your keys.

‘Fuck!’ Cursing is rare for you, but anyone would probably deem this situation as a very reasonable one to swear at.

Hot gushes of tears begin flooding down your face, painting streaks of cold that freeze over in a matter of seconds. How could you be this dumb? The snow is getting heavier right now. Checking the time on your phone, it’s 7 o’clock. The streetlights are dimming due to the weather, and the pitch dark night is starting to settle in around you.

You sink to a crouch.

This is it then, you guess. You’ve met your inexorable demise, rooted from your own stupidity. And Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re going to die trying to find Jungkook in a goddamn snow storm.

The quiet sobs and sniffles that escape you are muted by the hood around your ears. A shiver overtakes your body as your muscles tremble as a last attempt to keep you alive. Your whole face is numb, teeth clattering, eyes clamped shut to stop the tears from freezing on your cheeks.

‘Noona?’

The voice is muffled but you recognise it instantly. Your eyes fly open to see a pair of shoes halted in front of you. You look up.

And there Jungkook is, eyes wide in shock, quivering lips parted in concern, carrying four plastic bags full of food and supplies. The streetlight situated directly behind him shines a halo around his head, painting a heavenly image of him. You’ve never been more glad to see anyone in your life.

Unable to contain yourself, you fling your ice-stiffened arms around his waist and bury your face in his coat-clad torso. Your knees give in and hit the ground. New tears spring from your eyes, but this time it’s tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. A surge of his warmth washes over you, and all of a sudden, the cold cannot touch you.

‘W-What happened? Are you- Are you okay?’ Jungkook is rooted to the ground, he wants to wrap an arm around your small head or help you up but his hands are full with the groceries.

Gripping his sleeves, you tug yourself up to face him. You probably look like a mess, red eyes, nose and cheeks. But you don’t care. Jungkook is alive, you’re alive, and you’ve found each other. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Jungkook. Everything is fine.’

‘You’re crying, noona.’ His ears are neatly tucked under his black knitted beanie.

‘Not anymore, I’m good now.’ Ferociously wiping the liquids profusely leaking out of your orifices, you give him the biggest grin your frozen cheek muscles would allow. ‘Let’s go home. Do you need help with the bags?’

‘No, don’t worry about them.’

Standing an inch apart, you walk side by side following his lead, assuming he knows the way. The material of your coats scrape at each other when either of you leans a bit too far towards the other.

‘What are you doing out here though?’ He asks quietly.

What are you doing out here? How do you give him an explanation that does not depict you as an idiot? Because once again, you’ve been stupid and dramatic and stressed over absolutely nothing. It’s twice in the same day now that you thought one of your roommates have died. When both of them turned out to be alive and well.

‘Um… Well, I thought it was dangerous for you to go outside alone in this weather, especially since it’s getting dark... I tried calling you but had no signal so, uh, I decided to... uh, come out to find you…’ Embarrassment begins to creep it’s way to your senses, it claws digging into your skin.

You peak at him in your peripheral vision to see him stiffen, eyes eerily focused on the snowy path in front. What is he thinking? Is he going to laugh at you? Think you’re dumb? Find you weird and obsessive?

‘Oh… Um.’ Clearing his throat, he glances at you and you quickly look away. Flustered. ‘You didn’t have to, I’m fine. I know this neighbourhood like the back of my hand, noona.’

‘Yeah, but you took so long. I got worried…’ You whisper the last bit.

An awkward pause is birthed. Your fists tighten around the hand warmers in your pockets.

‘I- I’m sorry for worrying you, noona.’ You hear his own fists tighten around the handle of bags as well, the plastic crinkling. ‘The supermarket around the corner was shut so I had to find another one that wasn’t. I made it just in time, though, right before this one closed as well. Then I also had to find a store that sells those so-’ He stops abruptly when he realises that he’s rambling.

‘Sells what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jungkook mumbles.

Another silence. The night has fallen, looking around, if it isn’t for the scarce light casted by the lamp posts, everything would be pitch dark. You’re so glad you’re not alone. Worse come to worse, you would’ve had to knock on these random houses and beg them to take you in for the night.

‘Wait,’ he says, ‘That doesn’t explain why you were crying.’

Well, crap. What are you supposed to say?

‘Uhh… Well, I got lost and my phone wasn’t working, so… I just kinda panicked.’ If your face wasn’t red from the cold and embarrassment from before, it definitely is now. You feel the blood pumping to your head, enough to make you sway a little.

‘Oh shit. I’m sorry, that was all my fault. I- I should’ve told you I was popping out in the first place. Ugh, noona, I’m sorry.’ You’ve never seen him display much emotion towards you, but currently, seeing him so alive with exasperation… It’s kind of endearing.

Screw earlier, this is the longest conversation the two of you have had, ever.

‘No, Jungkook, stop apologising. It wasn’t your fault at all!’

To be fair, you couldn’t have wandered that far if Jungkook found you on his way back from whatever shop he went to; you must’ve been close at least.

And so you two arrive safely to your house. Carefully wobbling up the porch slippery with slush, you stop in front of the door.

He looks at you expectantly. ‘Keys, noona?’ Of course, his hands are full.

Here you are, thinking you could’ve gotten away with not telling him you had moronically left your keys at home. ‘Um, I forgot to bring them with me.’ You utter, then add. ‘I was in a hurry.’

For a second, Jungkook looks like he’s about to tell you off for endangering yourself with such stupidity. But he just lets out a half-laugh half-sigh and bites down on his lip. ‘Mine are in my left, no, right back jean pocket.’

Right. He is asking you to get his keys from his back pocket.

His back pocket.

You freeze.

You’ve never so much as touched Jungkook, if you don’t count brushing shoulders. Hugging him back there was purely out of hysteria, which you retracted from the second you registered your action. Now, you’re going to grope his ass. This day just keeps getting you more familiar with him, doesn’t it?

Gulping, you suck up your cowardice and slide your hand into his back pocket, intentionally not looking at him while doing so. The firmness of his buttcheek fits snugly in your palm while your index finger hooks around his keyring. And what the hell, you strangely get the urge to squeeze it.

You yank your hand out of there before it can betray you and act on that impulse. Glimpsing up, you see that his cheeks are also crimson as he stares up at the ceiling a little too attentively.

.

After changing into some warm dry clothes and setting your snow-dampened ones on the radiator, you go out to the kitchen to see Jungkook cooking some ramen, which doesn’t come as a surprise as he practically lives off them. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a black hoodie; after cupping his ass through his back pocket, you can’t help but notice how round his rear is, especially in those bottoms.

God, what is wrong with you? You cannot seriously be checking Jungkook’s ass out.

This time his hood his down, and you appreciate how fluffy his hair is starting to grow. You can’t help but wonder what it sme-

Woah.

Why are you thinking so much about Jungkook?

Truth be told, that scare he gave you just now opened your eye as to how much you actually care about him. Despite never really saying much to each other, you guess you’ve grown a sort of fondness for him that you didn’t realise you have. It’s only natural; you have known each other for close to a year now, and half of which was spent under the same roof. Of course you would worry for his well being, you tell yourself.

The kitchen fan must be blocking his hearing because he doesn’t sense your approach, he’s singing softly to himself. He’s got a lovely voice, both your roommates do. But whereas Jimin sings loudly and proudly, Jungkook only does so in the shower or when he doesn’t think anybody is listening.

When he notices you finally, you’re peering over his shoulder. He jumps. You jump. The chopsticks he’s using to stir the noodles fly out of his hands, clattering on the counter.

‘Oh jeez, you scared me.’ He picks up the chopsticks.

‘Sorry.’ You squeak and take a step back when you realise your proximity.

‘Haha…’ He chuckles nervously, embarrassed. ‘Noona, you like jajangmyeon, right?’

Do you like jajangmyeon? You live and breathe jajangmyeon. You can’t go a week without jajangmyeon. You’ve had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner before all in one day. Those noodles in that sauce… Mmm…

‘Yeah, they’re my favourite.’ Is all you say though, you figure he probably doesn’t care for a whole speech about your love for them. Surely he knows at this point, there isn’t a single day in this house where the ramen cupboard is devoid of jajangmyeon.

‘Great, I’m making you some.’

Oh. Jungkook is cooking for you. A warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you’re not sure why.

‘You don’t have to, Jungkook. Just cook for yourself, I’ll make myself dinner after you.’ But then your stomach chooses now to bellow aloud like a bullfrog traitorously. You look at him, abashed.

A smile is playing at his lips, though he’s trying not to show it.

‘Go sit down, noona. It’ll be ready in a second.’ His eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, chopsticks hauling up the softening noodles to check their texture. Though you’ve never tasted his cooking, you don’t doubt ramen mastery, so you nod compliantly.

The bags of shopping are half unpacked on the dining table, so you decide to finish sorting them out. He’s bought gimbap, bread, cheese, some salad, mostly food that doesn’t require cooking; you can tell he has thought ahead for the potential blackout.

Then something else in the bag catches your eye.

‘Dinner’s ready.’ Jungkook carries two bowls of brown noodles, garnished with sausage and cucumber, just the way you like it.

He sets the bowls opposite each other on the end of the table that’s not packed with groceries. This feels extremely weird and domestic. Although you live together, you don’t remember the last time you’ve had a meal together on this table, just the two of you without Jimin. Yet now, you’re about to eat jajangmyeon that he cooked for you, right across each other. Extremely weird.

‘Thank you so much for cooking, Jungkook.’ You bow your head at him politely and take a seat opposite him.

‘You’re welcome, noona.’ He also mirrors your action. You can kind of understand why it must be so annoying to Jimin how you’re so formal to each other, it must sound so forced and awkward.

Which is what this meal is going to be. Forced and Awkward.

Jungkook waits for you to take the first bite before digging, which you have to do so without rolling your eyes back and moaning out loud in satisfaction. Jajangmyeon tastes so flipping good! Your one and only true love.

You’re too focused on slurping down the noodles that you don’t notice him smiling fondly at the rare sight of you so blatantly excited.

The meal goes by quietly, neither of you are talkers to begin with, much less while eating. Whether it’s because it’s your favourite dish, or because it’s a freezing cold winter day, or even maybe because it’s Jungkook’s own cooking, the food tastes especially scrumptious.

‘This is delicious.’ Your eyes are practically glowing at him; he shys away from the praise by sipping on his can of coke. Who drinks coke in this weather? A smile stretches your lips at the oddity of this boy’s taste.

Jungkook mumbles a thanks, avoiding your eye as usual. But the jajangmyeon has put you in a good mood, you’re feeling rather chatty actually. ‘Also, Jungkook, I saw you bought-’ You dig into one of the grocery bags and pull out what you spotted earlier.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jungkook stares at the two-pack of fluffy socks in your hand, wearing a slightly mortified expression. ‘Um… I thought... you could do with some new ones.’

Surprised, your whole body tenses. You had thought he bought them for himself after seeing you wear yours so comfortably. All thought flaps away from your mind like a flock of frightened birds, leaving an empty field. He- Why- What do you-

‘Oh.’ Clearing your throat, you murmur. ‘Wow, thank you so much.’ Unable to look at him for any longer, your eyes fall onto your noodles. Your hand holding the socks drop onto the table at the weight of his kindness. Then a realisation creeps up on you. ‘Wait… They don’t sell these socks in supermarkets…’

Glancing up, you find him fiddling with his fingers nervously. ‘Uh. I went to another shop that does.’

Knots upon knots begin to tie in your stomach. So that’s why he took so long out there, not only did he have to find another supermarket that was open, he also searched for a store that sells fuzzy socks. For you.

Why do you feel so warm everywhere?

When you fall into a silent trance of your own thinking, Jungkook gets worried. ‘Noona, do you not like them? Did I get the wrong ones?’

‘No, no, no!’ You frantically dispute, forcing yourself to look at him. ‘These are perfect! I’m just surprised… and touched. That’s all. Jungkook, you really didn’t have to.’ The fabric of the socks feel heavenly to touch, your thumb sinks into the clouds of its softness. Truly, this has taken you by surprise and you don’t know how to react.

‘It’s okay…’ Redness blooms across his cheeks like drops of watercolour.

First he cooks you your favourite meal, then he buys you fuzzy socks? Is this the same Jungkook you’ve been living with all these months?

‘No, here…’ You rip open the card of the packet and snap the plastic wire that holds the four socks together. ‘Take a pair, I only need one anyway.’

At you waving the socks in front of him, he leans back in refusal, shaking his head and muttering a string of no no no’s. You’re not at all a strong-willed person by any means, but you’re not backing down on this, not when he’s been so lovely to you all night. When he realises that you won’t take no for an answer, he sighs, scratching the back of his ears. ‘Okay, okay. You can have the mint ones.’

One pair is mint and the other is pink. You blink. He wants the pink ones?

When he realises what must be going through your head, he quickly says, ‘Mint is your favourite colour right?’

Mint is your favourite colour. Though how does he know? All your possessions are in a variety of pastels: baby blue, cotton candy pink, mint green and lilac purple. He couldn’t have possibly guessed…?

‘Yes, it is… But I seriously don’t mind if you want the mint ones, I’m not gonna make you take the pink ones.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Jungkook snatches the pink fluffy socks from you before you can argue and stuff them onto his lap.

Your heart does a little thing that you can’t describe.

The two of you finish your dinner in silence, mirroring each other with one hand gripping the socks ever so tightly and the other hand picking up the noodles with your chopsticks. Awkwardly, Jungkook take a glimpse at you. A tiny smear of sauce stains the corner of your mouth.

Does he tell you? It would make it awkward though, wouldn’t it? But then again, it would be worse for you to find out yourself when you look in the mirror and think that he didn’t tell you you have sauce on your face.

‘Sauce.’ He accidentally says before he could finish formulating what he’s going to say to you. Shit. What’s wrong with him? Why did he say it like that? In response to your confused expression, he gestures dumbly at the corner of his own mouth.

Instantly a blush flames across the apples of your cheeks. You are about to wipe it away with your sleeve when you realise a second too late that you’re wearing a white sweater.

Your hand dangles a centimetre from your face, wrist caught in Jungkook’s fingers as he notices the mistake in your action before you. His whole body is leaned over the table in order to reach you. Wide eyes locked on each other, neither of you dare to move at his sudden outburst of motion towards you.

‘Um.’ He peeps. ‘Careful, I’ll do it, noona.’

Before you can register, he lets go of your arm allowing it to fall onto your lap. When his index knuckle brushes against the end of your mouth, a wave of shock zaps down your spine. Your heart lurches down an abyss at how soft his skin feels on your sensitive lips. Then his touch is gone, leaving a warmth tingling in his wake.

As he looks around for something to wipe his finger on, pupils round like a puppy, your eyes refuse to leave him. Thank you sits at the tip of your tongue but your throat is too clogged to utter a sound. The clockworks are trying to turn in your brain but all you can focus on is Jungkook.

How is he this nice, kind, gentle boy? And how have you completely missed this about him? In fact, why have you been so demure with him when he’s… an angel?

Watching his tongue poke at the inside of his cheek, a much scarier thought dawns on you.

Do you have a crush on Jungkook?

.

White screen glaring at you, the words of your unfinished essay frowns at your lack of attention in disapproval. You can’t write about Jane Austen’s exploration of feminism when Jungkook has overtaken your capacity to concentrate on anything other than him.

The radiator by your desk acts as your foot rest, blazing the pleasant heat up your legs. Ever few seconds, your eyes would wander to those mint green fuzzy socks you’re wearing, so brand new that its fluff caresses your toes like a flower bed. Just the thought that he went out of his way to replace your old hole-ridden pair…

Stop.

Jane Austen. Focus.

But the phantom touch of his finger sweeping across the plump of your bottom lip is etched on your skin, the picture of his doe eyes staring at your mouth refusing to leave your memory.

What has happened to you? How have you just swung from two extremes: from hardly able to speak a word to him without stuttering, to daydreaming about his kindness towards you?

The cold is making you delirious. It has to be this godforsaken cold, because why else would you all of a sudden be so flustered from the thought of Jungkook?

You take a long hard sip of your coffee, and mark it as a new leaf. From now on, no more thinking about anyone else other than Jane Austen. Pushing up your sleeves, you straighten your slouching back and face the monster of you assignment head on.

Not 5 minutes later, your desk lamp begins to flicker. You throw it a quick glance as your fingers type on your keyboard. Weird, you just changed the bulb a few weeks ago. Nevermind it.

Then all of a sudden, all the lights in your room go out. Frowning, you get up and try the switch several times to no avail. Peaking outside your room, all that greets you is a cold darkness. So you turn on the flashlight on your phone and try other light switches of the house. Nothing. Even the heat begins to seep away from the heaters as they dim to a cool. Oh no, right now?

Using your phone as a torch, you pad towards Jungkook’s room and open his door before you can remember to knock. Perhaps your anxiety has overridden your common sense and courtesy. Unfamiliar with the orientation of his room, you trail your side against the wall to guide you.

‘Jungkook? I think the power’s ou-’

Your phone shines onto a tall silhouette, illuminating a view that makes you shriek and stumble back.

There he is, standing with a white towel around his waist, beads of water splattered across his naked body and dripping rapidly out his wet slicked back hair. The swell of his biceps catch your attention first, lined with prominent veins running all the way down to his large hands placed on his hips. Which leads your gaze to the illustrious v of his hips that arch down to-

Without meaning to, your eyes travel down to this bulge. His hefty unmissable bulge. The towel protrudes out like a tiny hill, and you want to scream at it.

If you had a drink in your mouth right now, you would surely spit it out all over him and choke to your death. But you don’t, so all that comes out of you is a strangled cat noise. Looking away from that sinful area as quickly as you can, you arrive at his face - shocked, alarmed and confused. Your cheeks burning in the flames of hell, you spin away hastily to sprint out of his room in horror.

Except you run into the wall.

The impact hits your forehead and thankfully not your nose. Phone flung onto the ground with the light facing up, you fall onto you knees clutching at the eruption of pain. But nothing hurts more than your pride and image.

‘Noona!’ One hand securing the towel covering his manhood and preserving his dignity, he scrambles over to help you despite himself.

You flinch away at his hand on your shoulder because he is now right beside you. And it’s as if you’ve zoomed in too far on a picture because his nakedness is suddenly magnified 100x. You want to Ctrl Z yourself out of his room and back into your own desk. Because what. the. hell.

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

Transfixed on the ridges of this abdomen, you cannot focus on anything other than the way his muscles groove up and down so smoothly to form a six pack. Shadows casted by the flashlight sculpting more definition onto his marble chest. Goosebumps are raised on his blemishless skin, which you almost want to stroke away with your warmth.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ You chant cataleptically in a daze. It’s more for your own reassurance than his. His bare upper body needs to let you breathe.

‘Are you sure?’ His concern is apparent in his expression, eyes examining your entire face for your injury.

‘Yes, yes.’ Desperately wanting to shoo him away, you wince at the pulsing ache burgeoning in your forehead.

‘I’m sorry.’ You both say in unison, though neither of you understand why the other is apologising.

Though he seems abashed about being shirtless, his humiliation comes nowhere near your level. Why isn’t he scrambling to put a shirt on?

To be fair Jungkook does seem awfully self conscious, you’ve caught him looking down at himself for about the fifteenth time now as he helps you up to your feet.

‘I’ll let you get dressed, sorry.’ Is all you say after snatching your phone off the ground, not even bothering to check for a cracked screen, before making your timely escape. This time more successful than the last.

Clutching your throbbing head, you race to your room and catapult onto your bed. The picture of a wet, shirtless Jungkook with only a towel to shield you from his crotch is now ingrained in your mind. You think shutting your eyes will help but you still see his divine abs behind your lids.

Holy shit.

What perhaps scares you more is how attracted you are to him. Since when did you find your roommate hot? This is shy, quiet Jungkook who plays overwatch until 4am. How dare he have a Greek God’s body to confuse you like this?

You need to stop thinking about his naked body right now.

Instead you check outside your window to see that the streetlights are off as well; it must be a blackout across the whole town, if not city. Without heating, the cold air begins to harshly sting your exposed skin. Panic starts to fester in your chest. How long can you last with no electricity whatsoever? You don’t even have phone signal, or something to charge your phone with except the one portable charger that may or may not be dead right now.

Though your door is wide open, Jungkook knocks on it politely outside your room. Which is what you should’ve done with him, you mentally scold yourself. Though he is now dressed in an oversized hoodie, your image of him is forever changed after seeing him fresh out the shower, hair still dripping. You blink hard in attempt to rid that thought.

‘Hi…’ He whispers. He’s holding two burning candles against his chest, their flames lighting up the underside of his sharp jaw.

‘Hi, come in.’

You can sense his hesitancy, the unease in the air between you, when he enters your room gingerly, feet clad in those pink fuzzy socks.

‘Sorry-’ You both say at the same time again, then release a breath of laughter. Mirth twinkles in his eyes, though his shyness does not stray from him.

‘I’m sorry for barging into your room like that.’ It’s an effort not to glance down at his adorable socks. ‘That was completely my fault, so don’t apologise.’

He swallows. ‘It’s okay, noona.’

His eyes hold yours for a solid moment before dispersing. A familiar blush is starting to paint your cheeks, you feel the heat from your chest blare up to your entire face. Unable to help imagining those solid muscles underneath his clothes, you tug at the hem of your sweater.

‘So,’ Jungkook places one of the candles on your desk. ‘This is for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Instead of using the flashlight of your phone, use the candle or one of the torches I’ve put on the table outside to save your battery. I’ve checked the main fuse, it isn’t switching back on. Good thing is that we still have running water and plumbing, just no heating or any electricity.’ He glances at your own socks. ‘We need to use the water sparingly though or the reservoir will run out. From the shops, I’ve bought some food that we can eat without cooking like gimbap or sandwiches. There’s also a stash of hand warmers in the drawer of the TV stand if you’re cold.’

That’s a lot of words to come out of Jungkook’s mouth in one go, all spoken to you. What he’s saying is sinking in and relief washes over you, yet you can’t help but focus your attention on the way his lips move as he speaks. The dark red gleaming with lip balm, curving over each syllable so prettily.

‘That’s great, thank you.’ You finally snap out of it. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ That last sentence slips out of you before you could stop it.

Pupils widening a fraction, Jungkook’s lips part in reaction. Why did you tell him that? Maybe you should just lock yourself in your room after continuously embarrassing yourself tonight. But then he pulls into a smile that melts away the ice that’s numbing your limbs and burning your lungs. The front of his teeth slightly jutting out sweetly.

Again, a fondness tickles your chest.

‘Me too.’ The tingle spreads into a pulse that crushes your throat. Is that why they call it a crush?

You simply cannot suppress your own growing grin.

Jungkook begins to walk away, but then stops at your door and turns back. There’s a reluctance, an uncertainty to his slow movement as he faces you.

‘If… If you get too cold without the radiator… you can…’ His voice barely a husk. ‘You can come over to mine.’

Then he’s gone. The aura lit up by his candle gradually diminishes away from you as he walks down the hallway to his room.

Frozen in place, you’re not even sure if your heart is beating anymore. Those final words ring in your ear like wind chimes.

You can come over to mine.

Does he mean what you think he means? Is he offering to keep you warm during the night?

You watch the candle he’d placed on your desk, its flame mirroring the small fire kindling in your core for the boy who went out during a blizzard to buy you fuzzy socks so your feet don’t get cold.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook is on the verge of combustion at his bold proposition to you, red burning the tips of his ears. Though the memory of the look of pure euphoria on your face when you took your first bite of jajangmyeon burns his heart hotter yet.

.

The cold is brutal and shows no mercy. Despite your tossing and turning and effort to warm yourself up, sleep does not grace you. Part of the blame goes to Jungkook, you have not been able to cease thinking about him and everything he has done tonight. It makes you reflect on all your past moments together, whether he has always been like this and you were only too closed off to pay heed.

Sitting up from your bed, you decide you won’t be able to fall asleep without extra warmth. You need hand warmers stuffed down your pyjamas.

So, muscles stiff from the cold, you clamber out the little warm burrow of your covers and head for the living room, forsaking any light since your vision has adapted to the dark. On your way there, you walk past Jungkook’s room. Without knowing why, your legs betray you and stop outside his door.

You can come over to mine.

The low rasp of his voice still echoes in your head, stirring your unwarranted feelings for him into a warm pot of honey.

Had he really meant it? Did he honestly invite you to his share his bed? Surely not - this is Jeon Jungkook you’re thinking of, he doesn’t even speak to you most days, can’t not cower away from your glare. And he also knows what you’re like, how it took you two whole months to even warm to all of Jimin’s friends, how you only recently stopped using honorifics with those older than you.

And surely he must be at least mildly aware of the lack of boys and romance in your life, living just down the hall from you. Jimin is the closest male friend you have, and even so, you aren’t completely comfortable with sleeping beside him.

But then… All that has transpired about Jungkook’s character tonight, how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is which completely falls outside your predictions of the boy…

You realise you want to know more, want to explore the depths and mysteries that is your strange roommate. This intangible force that has been building up in the mere hours you’ve spent together this cold winter’s night draws you to him.

So screw those hand warmers, they last way too short anyway. Who needs those fidgety packets when there’s a whole Jeon Jungkook next door?

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends tendrils of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, this late at night he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head forth down the hall when you hear sheets moving, followed by his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind still fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in wonder, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze slowly crawls back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bed frame creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you two. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his sight hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

.

The power still isn’t back on.

It’s now nearing 24 hours since the blackout first hit.

You’ve wasted the day wandering about the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Though you tell yourself it’s the withdrawal symptoms from the internet, it’s mostly due to the fact that you slept next to Jungkook last night.

The earlier half of the day was spent subtly avoiding him because what the hell are you supposed to say to him? Do you just carry on your usual selves around each other or are you, like, friends now? You caught yourself watching him sleep this morning, serene breaths in and out through his nose. There’s a tiny mole under his lips that you’ve never noticed before. You had poked it with your pinky before you could stop yourself. And thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper, he didn’t even stir.

With more effort than you thought would require, you pried yourself out of his arms, a cold breeze instantly welcoming you in an embrace as you left his bed.

Those scenes keep replaying in your head: him finding you out in the blizzard, watching him cook you jajangmyeon, discovering that he when out of his way to buy you new sock, then walking in on him almost stark naked from the shower, and finally, falling asleep enveloped in his warm and scent.

You’re definitely crushing on him.

You’ve stopped denying it when you saw him meander wearily out his room at noon, bed head ruffled, eyes still droopy from sleep. Wordlessly, you had passed him the ham and cheese sandwich you prepared for yourself and you don’t even know why because you were absolutely starving.

The downpour of snow only stopped for a good 10 minutes this afternoon, a tiny window in which you poked your head out for some fresh air. Jungkook had tried to shovel away some snow to clear the porch, but quickly ran back inside when he saw your worried face plastered to the window watching him.

There isn’t much either of you can do with no electricity, no internet, no television, trapped indoors. So you occupy your day curled up on the couch, nose buried in a novel, completely immersed in that beautifully crafted fictional world.

Until Jungkook walks out in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Your eyebrow raises, peeking at him from behind the pages.

‘I’m gonna work out here, if you don’t mind. There isn’t enough space in my room.’ He scratches the back of his head.

‘Sure.’ You exhale, knowing your demise is looming over your head like a storm cloud. A lot of self control is exercised in order to not ogle at his calves.

Training your eyes at the novel in front of you with great determination, you turn the page. The first minute is easy enough, you just have to angle your book to block your view of him. But then his breathing grows heavier, panting every rep. At that, you can’t help but glimpse past the corner of your page.

Oh Lord. He’s doing push ups.

Though his biceps are mostly covered by his sleeves, the muscles of his forearms tensing at every contraction catch you eye. You marvel at the way his tendons flex out, and the way his serpentine of veins snake down his hands.

Jeez.

Then he lets out an unholy grunt, setting your whole skin on aflame. Scarlet stains your cheeks, you’re sure of it. But the sinful sounds do not stop. Sweat his now seeping through his shirt, rendering the material transparent down his back. And his ass…

You snap your focus back to your novel.

Just in time as well because he stops onto his knees, head falling back as he sits on his ankles, panting. His neck is shimmering with his perspiration, droplets trickling down like a brook.

Jungkook glances over at you to see you reading intently, jaw clenched from what he guesses is due to the excitement of the plot.

But then you stand up so abruptly that it startles him. You can’t sit here and spy on his workout any longer, you physically cannot take it. Not to mention, it makes you feel so awful, like you’re perving on the poor clueless boy who only wants to break a sweat.

The both of you just stare at each other, flustered for different reasons. His breathing slows.

‘I’m gonna-’ You don’t know where you’re going with the sentence. Gulp. ‘Uh, see you later.’

Scampering away into your room, you don’t wait for his response. Why are you panting heavier than he is when he’s the one exercising? Your book is pressed tightly against your pounding chest as you lean your back on your door. Your legs give way and you slowly slide down onto the cool floor.

There’s one thing you know for sure.

Jeon Jungkook is not good for your heart.

.

It’s almost midnight and Jungkook is standing outside your door. Fist clenched, inches away from rapping on the wood, but completely frozen in action.

Just do it, idiot. He scolds himself.

After an ice cold post-workout shower, this time early enough so he doesn’t have to sleep with wet hair, you both had gimbap for dinner. It was an excruciatingly silent meal which he blames himself for, though he can’t help the way his tongue gets tied every time he wishes to speak to you.

And now, bed time, he is at a dilemma of whether or not to ask to sleep with you again. It may come across as too forward coming from a guy, he doesn’t want to scare you. But he also knows that he will be missing the warmth of your body beside him if he goes to bed alone.

Jungkook sighs and lets his hanging hand fall to his side.

If you wanted to, you would have gone to his room anyway. Might as well save the awkward rejection and just take this as a no.

However, your door suddenly swings open. He’s confronted with a pyjama-wearing, baby-faced you, flinching back a step at the surprising sight of him.

‘Op- I was just....’ His sentence falls flat. He was just what?

‘I was just coming to find you.’ You mutter, eyes softening if he isn’t mistaken. A flood of relief rushes at him, so you were planning on coming to him tonight.

Wordlessly, you pad after him to his room. Everything is dark but you see his figure clearly in front of you. It gives you a false sense of confidence which leads you to trip over his charger wire you so clumsily missed.

You don’t know how he reacts so quickly to your yelp of distress, but he turns around in time to catch your outstretched arms by the elbows. ‘Watch out.’ Feet fumbling over each other, he stumbles back onto his bed as you fall onto him. The weight of your bodies sink down onto the mattress.

Hard muscle cushions your fall. Chests pressed against each other, you don’t realise your hands have instinctively circled around his shoulders for balance. Your nose is touching his fabric of his collar, his musk instantly overriding your senses. When you look up, his eyes are a crystal clear pool somehow reflecting the constellations of the night sky in this darkness. His breath caresses your forehead. Your gaze drops to his mouth, pink and parted.

You want to kiss him, you realise. So badly. Every fibre of your being is currently yearning to meet his lips, longing to know whether he tastes better than he smells.

But then your limbs are moving for you, propping yourself up and off him. Your own mouth forms and quiet ‘sorry’ as you shuffle under the sheets. It’s as if you’re watching your own actions through your eyes, controlled by your logic rather than desire. You couldn’t let yourself kiss him.

Jungkook silently squirms into his bed beside you, unwilling to look your direction as much as you’re averse to his.

So this is how it’s going to be again. Two sleeping logs next to each other.

There’s an ache of regret in your heart for being so timid. Annoyance at yourself drips down your throat, fist clenching at the sheets. You should’ve kissed him right then and there, consequences be damned. When will you get another chance? But perhaps it was fate. You have no idea how he would’ve reacted; the pessimist in you thinks he would’ve been disgusted. Yes, it was fate. It was right not to have kissed him.

Wait, no. A boldness suddenly pours down on you. Shyness and introversion has gotten you nowhere before, and it will not help your situation now.

‘Jungkook.’ Your voice comes out crisp and clear.

‘Hm, Noona?’

‘I’m still cold.’ Turning to face him, you see innocent confusion settle in his expression. The sound of your thumping pulse has reached your ears, your heart is a speeding motor flying off to find him. ‘Come closer.’

The shadow of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His focus does not stray from you as he slides across the bed hesitantly.

‘Closer.’

He edges further towards you. You can now just about make out the shape of the scar that flecks his left cheek.

‘Closer.’

This time, his exhale tickles your neck. Warm bodies touching, confusion and perturbation cloud his glassy orbs as he scans your face for an answer to the plethora of questions swimming in his head.

‘Thank you.’ You breathe, though it feels like no air is entering you. You can’t believe what you’re doing. This close to him, you’re entire being bathes in his presence, his aura; a familiar tingling ails your soul as your eyes flicker to his lips.

Every single muscle in Jungkook is frozen in shock, unsure of what is going on and why the sudden change in your demeanour towards him. And when you turn onto your side away from him and inch by inch back your body onto his front, his heart

stops

beating.

Nose buried in your floral-scented hair, vacillating thoughts tell him to put his arm around your waist and hold you close to him. You sense his unsureness in the way his hand rests on your side and pauses for too long before pulling you into his chest.

His frame engulf yours, the curve of your back lining perfectly with his. You feel safe, protected. His furnace touch on your waist burns through the thick fabric of your jumper and seeps into your core. The effect he has on you is nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and neither have you ever been in this position with anyone. Although it isn’t much, merely just cuddling, this feels so remarkably intimate and intense, like you’ve finally stepped through a threshold built into the emotional wall that towers between you and him.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re breathing.

Despite being the one to instigate this, you’re awfully apprehensive, not daring to even twitch incase it rattles him and sets him scrambling away. The two of you are like a pair of squirrels, slowly approaching to sniff each other, curious yet easily frightened.

His hot breath rushes down your spine like smoke. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Is he as nervous as you? Do you feel comfortable to him as he does to you? Or is he already falling asleep?

You should close your eyes and try to. Though who are you kidding? You’d never manage to catch a wink when you’re an accidental turn of a face away from kissing him, at least not right away anyway, not until you calm yourself down with a mental meditation exercise or something.

The urge to check if he’s indeed asleep is yanking at you, but you use all your willpower to resist, not wanting to risk rousing him when he’s as skittish as you.

But then you feel it.

Him.

It’s subtle at first, just a gentle pressure at your bottom.

Innocent and untainted as you are, you don’t even realise what it is at first, so you shift your hips unconsciously.

Then it’s stiffness grows, and grows, until it’s a baton poking at your rear.

Something in your core ignites, your chest constricts, and a wildfire of lust you’ve never felt before smoulders from your scalp to your toes before finally rooting itself in your sex. Ten hells, Jungkook’s boner is touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner and it’s touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner because of you and it’s touching your ass.

Your brain is devoid of all senses except a formidable hunger for him. Suddenly, though he’s almost surrounding you completely, the only thing you can feel is his hard member prodding you.

Is he asleep or not, you need to know.

Then a strange force possesses your lower half, and like a puppet on a string, your ass sinks back further onto him until his length is tunnelled between your cheeks.

The softest moan escapes him, almost a gasp even.

You think he’s going to say something, move away or stand up and leave. Instead he pulls himself away and slowly thrusts forward again. His clothed length slides smoothly up your crack, brushing ever so slightly over your slit. It sends a wave of arousal convulsing up your core, so powerful you almost choke.

Continuing to encourage him, your hips move in tandem with his, rubbing your ass all over his pulsing erection, occasionally letting it slide between your thighs against your clit. A pleasured mewl escapes, though you’re not sure who from. You’ve never felt anything like this, the ruin that overtakes your core at the friction. This is a divine sensation, luxury of the gods.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist as his pace increases, his breathing slowly shifting into wavering panting. Finally you succumb to the urge to twist around to look at him. Your heart erupts at the pure devastation contorting his face. His brows angled in pleasure, teeth clamped down on his lip to suppress those unholy noises, lids hanging heavy at the weight of his thirst for you. When his eyes lock on yours, something unleashes in him and devours you wholly.

Fire and ice. His lips feel like both fire and ice. Fire because your entire mind is burning at his smoothness, fuelled by your unkempt want for him to take over you. Ice because everything that isn’t him feels numb and insignificant, and your feelings for this man holding you is the purest flake of snow.

Your first kiss, and it’s already the best kiss you’ll ever have, you’re sure. Because the way his lips meld onto your, the desperation in the way he leans so far into you, the heat of his arousal forging it’s mark between your legs. Nothing in this world can top that.

‘Noona.’ He sighs into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Fingers grappling in his wavy locks, you reposition yourself completely to face him. His length twitches against you as your leg swings behind him to pull him closer. He is holding your neck with a heartbreaking delicacy, thumb stroking your jaw like it’s the most fragile of chinas.

‘Jung-’ You whimper. ‘Koo…’

Tasting of mint, his tongue gently laps at yours when you open for him. You’re drowning in his essence, lungs filling with his air, though you welcome your sweet painless death like it’s a heavenly gift.

Knowing his docile nature, you move his hand underneath your top, giving him permission to roam freely on your skin. He snakes around your back and circles around your front before finally meeting your sore breasts. As he kneads them tenderly, you feel a warmth ooze out of you into a puddle of concupiscence in your pants.

Oh God.

Your own hands wander beneath his hoodie, raking up the bumps of his god-sculpted abdomen and taking hold of his muscular chest. His wet kisses are a drug, and you’re completely and utterly under its control.

‘Jungkook, I want you.’ You moan.

When his eyes fly open, you’re met with pools of desire, seething into you like jets of lust. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d experience him like this, covetous for you and withering under your touch.

‘Noona… Fuck.’ He trembles as your hand travels down his navel, daring to slide under the band of his sweatpants. ‘I want you so bad, noona.’

The whimper that leaves his mouth when you palm him through his boxers sends a flood of yearning down to your core.

Holy shit.

He feels…

Massive.

Heavy with girth, only about half of his length fits in your palm. You have to stretch your fingers in order to fully encompass him. He is fully at your disposal, groaning, grip tightening on you.

As he huffs into the edge of your jaw, his own hand comes down to find your pussy pulsing for his touch. When his touches your clothed slit, a compulsion forces your hips to buckle forwards. And when he begins to rub circles right on that tender spot, waves upon waves of ecstasy hit you.

Whining like an animal, your head falls back at the newfound pleasure he’s showing you. With you neck presented so openly to him like a platter of dessert, he plants dulcet kisses onto you, his gentleness kindling your fire for him. Despite your attempt to wind your focus back to him, your grip on his erection slackens at his vibrations on your cunt.

‘Can I?’ Jungkook whispers into your ear, softness tickling your lobe. You don’t waste a second before nodding eagerly.

Then his fingers slide underneath your panties. Sensitivity explodes at the contact between the pad of his thumb and your clit. A string of moans release from you. His fingers stroke tactfully up your slick, lubricated by your wetness for him. And when he slides his digit into you, the thread that holds your soul to sanity snaps.

‘Oh my god.’ He pushes through the sleek pressure of your walls. ‘Jungkook.’ The whimper of his name rolling off your tongue sends a rush of blood down to his aching cock.

‘Noona, is that okay?’ The genuity in his voice squeezes your heart.

‘Yes, it feels so, argh, good.’

He latches his lips onto your neck and sucks clouds of lavender to your smooth seamless sky. His finger is slowly pumping in and out. It is a foreign feeling, so strange and unfamiliar, yet all the more exciting. The rise of his knuckles hit your wall at eye-rolling angles. Your hips roll in his rhythm to help him reach newer depths. The pleasure is unforgiving, relentless.

Another feeling gnaws at your chest, a longing to please him.

‘I want to make you feel good, Jungkook.’ You mumble, shy.

He looks up at you, finger gradually ceasing its movement. The pure passion alit in his eyes drives you thrumming for him.

‘O-Okay.’

‘You… You have to teach me though.’ Redness flushes your cheeks.

‘Okay.’ He says again, and you wonder if you’ve broken him at the way he’s frozen.

Sheepishly tugging down his pants, you inch yourself down and settle between his legs, the duvet rested upon your shoulders. He bobs free from the restraint of his apparel.

Your eyes bulge at his cock that is, despite the darkness, standing tall and proud, beaming at you. How is that monster going to fit inside you?

A strong vein runs down the course of his length. Angry red tip swollen and trickling with a clear liquid. You look up to find him staring helplessly down at you, gulping. A nervous fear is eating away at your throat; you’ve never done this before, how are you supposed to know how right now?

‘Teach me.’ Your fingers come around the base of his shaft and he gasps audibly.

‘Uh-’ Another gulp. ‘Lick the tip.’

You lick the tip. Drawing your tongue over his engorged head, tasting his salty precum that continues to leak out of him profusely. He curses.

‘Like that?’ Your mouth doesn’t leave him as you say.

‘Mhmm.’ He runs his hand through his dark locks in exasperation. ‘Suck on it gently.’

You suck on it gently. Lips wrapped around his tip like a vacuum while you breath him in. Your cheeks hollow. You look up at him for approval. One eye is clamped shut, the other is barely held open to witness the most seraphic scene.

‘Fuck, noona, like this.’

You try to take in more, letting his wide cock slide into your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against his hilt. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag and splutter around him. Embarrassment shoots at you, yet when you glance up, he doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, he brushes your hair behind your ear and coos, ‘Careful, noona.’ He’s so sweet, so dear, you feel a crack in your heart.

So you try again, this time slower, swallowing as much of him as you can. Your hand swirl around his shaft while his massages the back of your scalp. You roll your tongue around his head every time you come up, flickering at his slit. Soon, your pace increases along with your confidence. Jungkook is a mess under you, thighs quivering, toes curling. Humming in satisfaction, your vibrations resonate into his dick and he yelps.

‘Noona, stop before I cum.’ The way he pleads sends your cunt throbbing. You pull his member out of your mouth almost obscenely, inhaling sharply for air.

He gently places you on your back, finger tracing your drenched lips in endearment. ‘Was that ok?’

‘That was perfect, noona. Are you sure that was your first time?’ Doe eyes wide in awe of you. You giggle and nod, glowing in timid pride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

At that, the reality of this situation hits you. This is happening, this is actually happening. You’re going to have sex for the first time. With Jungkook.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You are sure you want to do this. If not with him, then no one else.

‘Yes.’ You state firmly, eyes never once wavering from his.

His gaze on you is so soft, yet so intense, you want to melt under him. ‘Okay. I- I need to go find a condom in Jimin’s room.’

Fuzzy with your feelings for him, you watch him scramble off in the dark to the other room. Loud clangs echo down the hall, you can’t help but smile at the thought of him digging through Jimin’s pig sty, frantically searching with his rock hard cock.

Jungkook returns moments later to the sight of you completely naked on his bed. Gaping like a little boy, he almost falls onto you as he climbs onto the bed while he tears off his own top. For a minute, you two just stare at each other’s bodies, allowing the beauty to sink in and etch itself forever in your souls.

‘Noona, you’re so beautiful. Do you know that?’ He leans over to kiss all over your face.

A warm prickle sieges your heart. No one has ever called you beautiful before. Emotion floods you like an ocean, and you’re suddenly met with a familiar sting behind your eyes.

He hovers over your lips, nose rubbing on yours so lovingly you want to cry. You’re at a loss for words, so you just nod, not daring to peep a sound lest a tear escapes from you.

His hands are shaking as he rolls on the condom. Prudently, he kisses up your inner thighs before spreading them open with care. Finally, he pecks the top of your flower fondly.

Then slowly he rests his elbow beside your head and situate himself between your legs. Both your breaths are wobbly, you search his face for security and find it. His irises reflect his galaxy - you. And your fear ebbs away.

Stroking his tip along your wetness, he kisses the shell of your ear. ‘Are you really really sure?’

‘Yes, Jungkook.’ Your fingers entangle in his hair assuringly.

‘Tell me to stop if it hurts a lot. Promise, noona?’ His concern is heart wrenching.

‘Promise.’ You whisper, other hand locking with his.

Only then does he begin to ease into you. At first you don’t feel much, just his tip diving into you. Then the rest of his length pushes in, plunging through a tremendous pressure built into your walls. Pain blooms inside you as he enters deeper and deeper, it’s an ache that you anticipated but never imagined. You both cry out, though for different reasons.

‘Are you okay?’ You can tell he’s struggling to stay still, shoulders tensing at the temptation to thrust again.

‘Mhmm.’ You manage to gripe. Because despite the blinding pain, you are okay.

‘I’m gonna go as slow as I can.’ He ensures you, fingers tightening around yours.

When he plunges into you again, you expect the hurt to lessen, but it doesn’t. It overwhelms your whole body, yanking inside you. Though, every time he kisses your lips so tenderly, your forget the soreness he’s impaling into you for a fresh second. Opening your eyes, you see him panting at your tightness, trying with every muscle in his body not to go wild at you.

‘Fuck, noona.’ He exhales, forehead rested on yours.

Seeing him so berserk with pleasure calms your running anxiety. His thrusts inevitably quickens, and you just about begin to see pass the pain. Behind the ache, there’s a gratifying sting clenching your walls. The slap of his hips against your thighs ring loud.

‘Still okay?’ Jungkook asks again, worry painting his face at your silence.

‘Yes, you can go faster.’ You answer despite the ever-present soreness. When he drives hard into you, stars and tears blurring your vision.

Something in him snaps as you feel him twitch inside you. His movements grow sloppy and feral, just like the grunts that he heaves. Chasing his climax, you can tell how close he is to his sweet release.

‘Oh- Noona, I’m so cl-ose.’ He’s whimpering into your neck.

‘Jungkook, baby. Come for me.’

At your name for him, he goes crazy, ramming into you with a strength and stamina that you couldn’t expect less of from him. ‘Noona…’ He begs. The pressure inside you is easing, pain dulling, though you know you won’t feel any pleasure this time round.

Then, in one last powerful push, he ejects into you with a loud cry. You pull his lips to yours immediately to soothe his euphoria. This look of pure pleasure on his face rips you to shred as he refuses to let go of your hand. His hips jerk into yours to ride out is high as his whole body deflates onto you.

Although it’s a freezing night, goosebump plaguing both your skins, neither of you feel cold. Instead, you are enshrouded by the warmth of your passion and desire, all you feel is each other.

You, wrapped tightly around him, and him, spasming inside you.

Heavy with exhaustion, he nuzzles up to kiss you. Long, slow and hard. You have never truly appreciated his beauty until this point, under the subtle snow-clouded moon, eyes boring into you with a never-dimming glow of adoration.

Jungkook removes himself from you, hastily disposing the condom to not miss a moment by your side. Dressing you first so you don’t catch a breeze of cold, his touch feels so much warmer, gentler.

Snuggled up under the covers, he holds you so close to him that you hear his beating heart. For a timeless passage, you stare into each other wordlessly, fingers tracing delicately over every patch of skin.

‘Y/N...’ He muses out loud. ‘Y/N… You don’t know how perfect you are…’

Again, he has rendered you speechless.

Caressing your cheek in his palm, he continues. ‘I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would understand why I’m so completely in love with you.’

At his words, your throat constrict. ‘What?’ You choke out.

‘I’m in love with you, noona.’ His lips are trembling, chest pounding against you. Disquietude emanates from how he’s peering at you.

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know how you never knew, I mean- I guess it’s pretty obvious from the way I act around you. Even Yoongi-hyung spotted it right away…’ He begins to ramble, focus hopping to the collar of your jumper that he’s toying with. ‘I just… I don’t know. There’s something so special about you that I can’t find in anyone else. I thought it was just a crush but... but then you moved in with us and… And my feelings for you just drove me insane. That’s why I kept trying to avoid you. I know I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I actually spent time with you, I’m kinda stupid when it comes to girls if you can’t tell already.

‘But the truth is,’ he takes a deep breath and sighs, ‘I am truly, deeply, madly in love with you, Y/N noona. Everything about you. The way you devour jajangmyeon as easily as breathing. The way you never go a day in winter without wearing these fuzzy socks. The way you only drink lattes and chamomile tea. The way you would rather spend your friday nights curled up with a book. The way you pretend to find Jimin annoying but secretly love the attention he gives you. The way you rushed out to find me in the snow and forgot the bring your keys. And the way you can’t talk to me without stuttering just like how I can’t look you in the eye when we have a conversation.

‘I know this is a lot to spring onto you, and I don’t expect you to love me back at all. But just know that I’m here for you whenever you need. I’m your furnace in a snowstorm, hand warmer in a blizzard. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me, I’ll still be here.’

Jungkook finishes with a final huff.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his confession. Emotion floods your veins at the revelation, and you can all but break down into sobs. Jaw gaping, you regard him from his arms, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts.

‘Noona, say someth-’

You kiss him, urgently and desperately. Like you’ve been drowning in a sea of lostness, aimlessly floating about to try to find your way, and he’s your first gulp of air. Mist of perplexity is finally starting to clear away, and you see the path ahead of you with crystal lucidity.

It’s Jungkook. Jungkook, who knows your favourite colour when even your own mother doesn’t. Jungkook, who waddled out into the freezing snow to buy you new socks. Jungkook, who so gently and delicately made love to you tonight. Jungkook, who has loved you unconditionally and will continue doing so regardless of your feelings towards him.

‘I think… I think I’m falling truly, deeply, madly in love with you too, Jungkook.’

.

End

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extras: christmas special

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@shookpreme @hazelelizabeth99 @teenage-hippie @bunbundesu @tangledsparkles @gingerpeachtae idk who wanted to be tagged lol 😬

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02/09/2019

© Copyright 2019

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 21

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 3.2k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Hopefully you all enjoy this :) please leave comments or feedback so I can see what you’re all thinking! :D

; Flower Masterpost

-

Hoseok was sitting on the other side of the coffee table in front of you, a small furrow in his brow as he examined the small tile in his fingers. His lips pursed, soft and rosy pink in the dim lighting you’d set up in the living room for tonight.

Neither of you had anything to do for the evening, with Hoseok’s friends going to a concert that he hadn’t been interested in. Apparently that was actually a band he didn’t like listening to, so he’d happily avoided attending. It meant that he had this Friday evening free, which in turn meant that he was with you for once.

The two of you had settled into a little routine over the last nine months. Hoseok would stay over four or five days a week, spending the remaining days either at his apartment or his parents. Occasionally even at his friends if they went to a concert or just had a night out.

Friday’s were his designated evening to spend with his friends. They would usually meet up at the bar they frequented or go to one of their houses, get drunk and rowdy. Or sometimes they’d go on a trip to a nearby city, spending the night there instead.

It had apparently been their tradition for a long time now, with Friday’s being the start of the weekend and no work. All of them got involved, though Namjoon and Amelia often ended up missing them due to their baby. Though you knew that Namjoon sometimes came along, sent by Amelia to enjoy a night with his friends.

You didn’t mind that he spent that time with them. In fact, you were glad of it. The last thing either of you wanted was to become so reliant on each other that neither of you spent any time with your friends. So you encouraged him to enjoy those Friday’s, knowing that you got the rest of the weekend with him.

Wednesday’s were your night with Chungha and Soyeon. The board games had returned frequently and sometimes, they even managed to coax you out to a restaurant where you would all happily talk about your lives, the state of the world and more. It felt nice, to know that you’d developed a routine that was drastically different to the one from a year ago but still solid enough that you felt stable with it.

It felt healthy, like neither of you were becoming too reliant on each other while still being able to have a good amount of time with your family and friends.

But tonight, you’d invited Hoseok to stay even though you normally never really saw him on Friday’s. Only if you’d specifically asked for him to stay free, such as when you took him to the beach house. He’s happily taken you up on your offer and had told you that he’d get Chinese takeout for you both, which had been greedily consumed an hour earlier.

And now...you were both sat playing a board game. A city and map building board game at that.

A snort left you as you wondered whether Hoseok would have ever expected to be playing Carcassonne on a Friday night with his girlfriend a year ago. You certainly wouldn’t have expected it. Not with someone who looks like him and has his tastes in music and entertainment.

Glancing up at you, Hoseok’s brow rises slightly before he places the tile down carefully. It lines up with the half of a city on another tile, and he carefully places the little wooden ‘meeple’ down in the middle of his now completed city. Looking at the points board, he moves his point keeping meeple up by two before giving you a big smile and taking the one he’d put on the tile off now it was completed.

“Two points...yeeeah.” He says happily and you laugh, shaking your head as you pick a tile from one of the three piles. Your tile has green grass and a little church on it, causing you to place it carefully in a free space in the middle of the map, a little ‘abbot’ meeple being placed on top. You smirk at him as you move your point keeping meeple up by eight before claiming your abbot back.

“Eight points...yeeeeah.” You mimic him, causing his eyes to narrow. It amuses you how competitive he gets in board games. He’d never really played any like the kind you played before he’d started dating you, and it was only in recent months that he’d started to show an interest.

That had made you excited, as you loved playing them and having someone to play with constantly meant you had already been eagerly searching websites for the games that you’d always wanted. As much as Chungha and Soyeon loved to play too, they weren’t too interested in the games that required more time and patience.

“You know...I can’t believe I’m getting overly into a board game where I’m making a city of all things.” Hoseok muses, almost bringing your own thoughts to life and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you. 

“I was literally just thinking that. It’s definitely not what I expected. But it’s fun right?” You say with excitement, beaming so wide to him. He pauses for a moment, just taking in your smile before sighing gently and nodding.

“Yeah...although it’d be more fun if you wouldn’t purposefully dick me over.” He gestures towards the city that he’d been carefully building over the game, the city getting larger and larger. It would be worth a lot of points to him.

Or it would be, if you hadn’t thought ahead and carefully placed a city tile a little further away from him with a big meeple on it. Those were worth double points...and they always took precedence over smaller meeples. When you’d causally connected your city up to his, it had meant that he’d lost the city to you.

There had been much outrage at first before he’d pouted for a solid five minutes. You’d been giggling at him the whole time, telling him that he’d better step his game up as in the game of Carcassonne, you either win or lose.

Not that he’d truly appreciated that, but he had been a little cunning since. Purposefully blocking your cities or roads so that they couldn’t be finished. It was all fun though, and you knew that he wasn’t really annoyed.

It was one of the things that made your heart burst about him; how he went along with your tangents on useless topics or actively engaged with your rants or simply listened as you speculated the stupidest stuff to him. You didn’t know many other people who would listen to you properly when you went off on a theory of how to reduce global warming.

That had a more memorable conversation including firing all the rubbish on the planet towards the sun, a mass snow maker in Antarctica to reduce the sea levels and so forth. And Hoseok had gone along with it all, no matter how silly the topic. Even actively contributing towards it.

He never seemed to make you feel stupid for the stuff you talked about. Your bizarre thought processes sometimes left him a little confused, you were well aware of that, but he tried to keep up with you and encourage whatever little thing had sparked your interest. 

In fact, you couldn’t really remember every actually causing Hoseok to get annoyed through the things that you loved. Sure, he got annoyed when you didn’t replace the toilet roll when it had run out, instead leaving it on top of the holder or when you didn’t clean the sink of toothpaste stains. He especially didn’t like your habit of barely hoovering and your lack of care about putting clothes away almost infuriated him.

Hoseok was a surprisingly clean man.

But he never got annoyed about things that you loved. Never made you feel silly about them or ashamed. And you loved that about him.

Smiling softly at him as he examines the new tile he’d picked up, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates once more while his eyes can over the map, you feel the fluttering in your stomach once more. He looks tired, after a long week of work and you can see the shadows under his eyes.

His dark hair is tousled from where he’d run his fingers through it continuously throughout the day and his lips are ever so slightly dry. Humming to yourself, you stand up and quickly disappear to your bedroom before coming back, a small tube of lip balm in your hand. Handing it over to him, you smile as you gesture to his lips.

“Your lips look very dry right now.” He gives a smile of thanks, uncapping it and twisting it up before liberally applying it on. It’s rather ridiculous how good he looks with his now glossy lips but you don’t comment on it, instead leaning forward until you can rest your elbows on the coffee table, chin in your hand as you watch him.

Hoseok is too focused on trying to decide what to do that he doesn’t really notice your perusal. Either that, or he’s too used to it. You do this quite frequently, mostly because you’re perpetually surprised that you of all people managed to date someone like him.

“I l-” The words choke in your throat as you go to say them, your brain catching up with what your mouth was saying far too quickly. Your almost admittance of your feelings made you feel hot, but what made you feel even hotter was the frustration at how hard you found it to get these three words out.

You’d been trying to say them to him for a while now, but everytime you came close, your throat would tighten. Almost like it didn’t want the words to escape, like it wanted to hoard them to itself. You always struggled to talk about your feelings, but this felt even harder. This was something so intimate and personal to you, the words giving Hoseok the ability to hurt you in ways no one else ever has.

Your hands clenched into fists as your jaw sets, the pressure hard and you glare down at the table. It’s like an intense feeling of embarrassment and anxiety takes over every time you try to say it, your body flashing lightning hot and your muscles tensing as if you’re expecting the fright of your life. All because you want to say three words to him.

"You don't have to say it to me." Hoseok said softly, his voice far kinder and patient than it should be. Sometimes you wondered how he put up with you and your mood swings, but you knew why; he loved you.

You’re also not really surprised that he knew what you were trying to say, even if it had come out of the blue like this. He’d always shown that uncanny knack of simply understanding you. But it’s frustrating right now. He deserves to hear it out loud, to hear you say the words that had made you so happy when he’d told you.

"But I should. It's not fair to you." Moving around to your side of the table, Hoseok sits next to you with a smile. Gentle fingers cup your face, applying pressure until you're looking directly into those dark eyes you'd fallen head over heels for in the last few months. He deserved so much better than you and it made your stomach hurt to think that. You knew he'd berate you for that kind of mindset.

"Hey, I don't care about what's fair or not fair. I care about you. And your feelings and whether you're comfortable," Hoseok pauses, taking a deep breath before licking lips. "I've known since the very beginning that you're not great at communication. That's fine though, because I've learnt that what you don't say in words...you do in actions."

You frown at him in confusion, hand coming up to rest on him as you wonder what he means and he laughs in response, fingers stroking gently. If it was possible for someone to tell you that they loved you through pure motions alone, then it definitely felt like Hoseok was doing it right now.

"You've never told me that you love me in words. But you've been telling me for a while now that you do with what you do for me. When you buy me that stupid thing in a store 'cos it reminded you of me or you get my favourite cereal even if you hate it. When you watch films and programmes for me, or listen to my music because it makes me happy. When you make the effort to call me, even when you don't like it. When you come with me out with my friends, even if it makes you uncomfortable."

Your body feels warm at that, squirming in discomfort at his words. "Those are normal things, right? Isn’t that what girlfriends do for their boyfriend?"

Hoseok shakes his head in response. "No, well yeah. But you take it further. It's like you're always wanting to make sure I'm happy and content so you do everything to make that happen, no matter the cost to you. I worried that you're making yourself unhappy doing it, but then I watched you with your parents or Soyeon or Chungha and just realised...that's you. Some people say 'I love you' a lot, some people are physically affectionate...and some people do things to show their love."

There's a silence that falls after that, warm and filled with plenty of emotion you can't identify. You turn his words over in your head, chewing on them and realise slowly that he's right.

"I like to make people happy. If they're happy then I'm happy because I did something good." The words sound a little childish and you look away, hoping that he doesn't think they are too.

But he just wraps his arms around you, pulling you to him and hugging you tightly. Neither of you say anything for a moment, just letting the moment percolate just a little bit longer and you enjoy everything about him.

The strong feel of him against you, the warmth he radiates and security you feel in his arms. His addictive scent that sends a wave of pleasure through you as you bury your nose into his neck, inhaling deeply. You finally get what some people mean when they say that their partner feels like home, because while you may have only been together a few months, you have never felt more at home with someone before.

Hoseok shifts slightly and you feel a gentle pressure on your temple, the hard coldness of his piercing letting you know that it's his lips. He stays there for a moment, petal soft lips against your skin as he takes in a deep breath.

"I love that about you...you know that? You're very easy to please. You never want big fancy things or anything like that. Just...affection." His words are a tiny bit husky but you can feel the amusement laced through them, the flow slightly stilted as if he's not sure how to word things.

Pressing your forehead against his collarbone, you look down to where your hand rests on his thigh and take a deep breath. Mind racing, nerves dancing, stomach swirling and body tensing, you finally do it. You push through the fear and the anxiety that overwhelms your body and say what you’ve been trying to for so long now.

"I love you Hoseok." 

You're so quiet that you're not sure he's even heard you, but you're too focused on your hand on his thighs. As you say the words, you poke at the firm muscle lightly, almost as if by doing so then he'll be distracted and he won't hear.

But he does hear. Of course he hears.

You can feel the tremble through his body, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly and you feel hot all over with embarrassment. Which in turn makes you feel ashamed, because you shouldn't be embarrassed to tell the man you love, your boyfriend of nine months, that you love him.

And yet you are, because you struggle to talk about big and important emotions like this.

He understands though. Hoseok understands how big of a step this is for you, how important this is and how much nerve you'd had to build to finally let yourself say it. You still feel like throwing up, but part of you is elated to get it out.

"Yeah?" He whispers softly, nose running along your hairline and you nod in response. Staring firmly at the Iron Maiden band shirt, you poke gently once more at his thigh.

"I love you." This one is even quieter but he doesn't care. You can tell he doesn't care, because he simply hugs you tighter before pulling away to press a long, emotion filled kiss to your lips.

-

The two of you somehow managed to finish your game of Carcassonne, with you winning. Hoseok didn’t seem to care though, and once you’d both finished tidying it away, he’d been eager to pull you to the bedroom. It was there that you discovered perhaps the best sex you’ve ever had, all because both of you were feeilng particularly loved up and mushy.

And now, you’re incredibly sleepy as you lay against him, simply enjoying the feel of him and how at peace you feel with everything right now. How happy you are.

His chest is warm and firm beneath your cheek, rising and falling slowly as he breathes deeply while the comforting thump of his heart beats beneath you. Your hand rests on his chest as well, his sleep shirt covering up the inked skin but you imagine it clearly.

Hoseok probably never expected to meet someone like you when he'd signed up to Flower, and part of you still maintained that he was meant for someone better. Yet here he was, in your bed...in your arms...in your life...in your heart. And he'd openly welcomed you into his own.

You knew that you'd lucked out with him. Seriously lucked out, and you thanked whatever gods were out there for letting you be the one to catch his interest.

Silently, you let your fingers trail along him in a touch so light it was barely there. Reaching where his heart should be you gently press down in a gentle poke. A responding gesture on your back from him makes you jump slightly, looking up at his face only to see it still serene in its peacefulness. But you know he's not asleep, and you repeat the gesture once more on him.

He does it again and you grin, forcing yourself to stay quiet and motionless before you settle yourself down to sleep properly. Hoseok said that you showed your love in actions because it was easier than using words, and he was right.

It was easier and you felt far more comfortable doing it than saying it out loud. You'd already made up in your mind what the tiny, innocent gesture meant in your head. It said a lot about how well Hoseok knew you already that he'd figured it out so quickly too.

Poke, I love you.

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class 

[samwrights]

Spider’s Web

So for those of you who don’t have me on AO3, I have an Oikawa/OC/Iwa story up on there and I REALLY want to make it into a poly relationship, that’s just not the direction for that particular story. That being said, I’m most likely going to pull a lot of inspiration from there. However, if you have my AO3 account and are reading Proper Dose, please please please don’t spoil any of it for anyone else. Things that haven’t been posted on there (namely the OCs relationship to Oikawa) is going to be included here.

Enough rambling.

Edit: I am going to FIGHT the tumblr text post editor that WOULD NOT save every time I went back to format this.

Warnings: language and NSFW!

Nobody understood the dynamic, the gall, you had dating both Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tōru. That was okay, it wasn’t anybody else business but the three of your own.

It started out in your guys’ second year of high school. You had class with Iwa for the last two years and would eventually move onto the third together as well—many thought he was a shallow piece of shit, Oikawa included, when they learned that the Seijoh ace was dating the captain of the cheerleading team, let alone top of their class. Aoba Johsai knew you as nothing more than that.

Iwaizumi knows better.

He knows the long, hard hours you put into your sport; the literal blood, sweat, and tears. He knew the struggles you faced with home life and your parents thinking your “sport” was a complete waste of time, regardless of the fresh bruises and cuts you came home with every day, they made sure to tell you as such. And he knew you took everything out on yourself — the frustration of constantly trying to make your family happy while struggling to do so for yourself — never wanting to take refuge with another person, until he came along.

To him, it seemed almost natural to be with you—you were almost Oikawa’s female counterpart and that was a love he had long swallowed and repressed. The drive, the ambition, and the self-discipline, or lack thereof, was eerily similar, too similar for Iwaizumi’s comfort. At first, anyway.

You and Oikawa didn’t get along at first. His stand-offish attitude, especially to you being cheer captain, rubbed you the wrong way. He thought you were shallow, even more so than Iwaizumi after you two started dating, and the only thing you were going to do was break Iwaizumi’s heart and he wouldn’t stand for it. However, when his ACL got torn in second year, you were the first one at his side besides the ace.

“If you’re important to Iwa, you’re important to me too,” was all you responded with when he asked why you were waiting him for the ambulance. Iwaizumi had to, unfortunately, carry out the remainder of the tournament without the captain by his side.

And so, the spider’s web began to thread.

You and Iwaizumi were only dating for a year and some change before hitting a breaking point. For your safety, he had begged for you to quit your club after colliding with another girl on your team in your third year, that you had nearly dislocated your now insufferably swollen jaw. Despite the collision, the Aoba Johsai cheer team had made it to regionals after six long years of rivalry with Shiratorizawa, but the success didn’t matter to the volleyball ace. “You’re going to get hurt, [name]!”

“But I didn’t, and I’m not fucking quitting!” Despite the care and support Iwaizumi Hajime had always given you, the two of you were at odds as the two of you and Oikawa were walking back from your prefectural qualifier held at the Sendai City Gymnasium. Oddly enough, Oikawa of all people acted as the mediator that day.

“Iwa, what do you love about [name]?” He had asked his best friend.

“Her passion, mostly. But right now—“

“So if you force her to quit the one thing she’s passionate about, is she going to be the same person?” You could have cried that day. Shit, you did cry because never in a million years did you think Oikawa Tōru would be coming to your defense, especially not about this. But he understood, better than anyone, what it meant to be completely devoted to what you do and he would be damned if the boy he loved more than anyone would take away the one thing that you cared about the most. 

It didn’t make sense to anyone but Oikawa. However, he knew that if you lost the one thing that motivated you in life, you would no longer be the person that Iwaizumi loved, and that hurt the captain deeply. While Iwaizumi didn’t necessarily appreciate that Oikawa came to your defense, he understood the logic behind his reasoning. “I’m only saying this because I love you, but let her do her thing.” The captain added to his ace. Iwaizumi had no idea that he had meant it literally at the time.

Since that day, you and Oikawa became quite close. He understood a part of you that, despite the passion that Iwa had for volleyball as well, the ace just didn’t understand the dedication the both of you had. You both loved what your sport and what you did. You also both loved Iwaizumi Hajime and never had an intent to let him go.

“You know, Iwa may complain that you’re too much like me, but I think that’s why he likes you.” Oikawa had said one day when they two of you were out on a friend date. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you, considering that there were times you needed to get out and away from your parents and Iwaizumi just couldn’t be there. That was okay; he was his own person too.

“I don’t disagree with you, Oiks.” You were aware of how the volleyball captain felt for your boyfriend—you would be stupid not to notice. But it didn’t hinder your friendship with the man in the slightest; if anything, it intrigued you further. “Sometimes, I feel like he’s only with me because I’m like you.”

And so another ring to the spider’s web is added, as the couple slowly captures their unsuspecting prey.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you two?” Iwaizumi Hajime is pissed. It’s in the middle of the inter high preliminaries—just after Seijoh beat Karasuno. You’d gone up to congratulate the boys on their win, giving a long hug and peck on the cheek to the volleyball captain who has now become one of your best friends. It wasn’t hard, once Oikawa got over the qualities that you shared, the very same ones he hated in himself.

There were things about you that made the two of you different. For starters, you embraced freedom, something that Oikawa could never do. That freedom and liberation to be yourself so fully, so unabashedly, kind of made you a badass in his eyes, one almost equal to the object of his affections. Granted, not many other people at Aoba Johsai cared for this attitude of yours—it made you untouchable, unapproachable, like you somehow thought that you assumed yourself to be better than them. Whereas Oikawa was your opposite in that regard with everyone thinking much higher of him and yet he never felt that he was enough. In layman’s terms, Oikawa strives to reach the pinnacle, where as you sat at the top only to feel alone and isolated until Iwaizumi Hajime came along.

“Whaddya mean, Iwa?” Oikawa responds light-heartedly and the man in question knows that he’s playing around. Grinding his teeth against each other, the ace grabs the both of you before dragging you guys into the hall. He’s red with anger and you’re unsure if the capillaries in his eyes are going to burst from the pressure.

“What the fuck is going on with you two?” He repeats.

“Baby, nothing is going on—“

“You expect me to believe that when I see the way you two hold each other—“

“It’s because he can’t hold you, Haji.” Oikawa snaps his brown eyes towards your shorter frame, wondering when and why you would even consider betraying him right now, of all times. “I’m comforting him, Hajime. Win or not, he doesn’t get to be held and kissed by the person he loves, just the next best thing—his girlfriend.” The captain wants to kill you; wants to run and hide because he can’t take the intensity of the situation. It’s not exciting or thrilling like when he’s normally presented with a challenge—this is nerve wracking.

“What?” Is all the ace has to say. His olive green eyes are now locked on his best friend and the king is in checkmate. “I’ve been in love with you for years and after finally moving on you decide to say something to my girlfriend?” Oikawa wants to run. Contrary to popular belief, there is nothing he hates more than seeing Iwaizumi mad at him — genuinely, truly mad at him. It was the whole reason that Iwaizumi was the only person that could get through to him in the first place.

He becomes defensive, saying the only smart ass remark he can muster. “She’s not complaining, is she?” Wrong move, Oikawa.

“More importantly,” you interrupt before the two of them glare so hard at each other that the sexual tension overrides their rationality, “you both finally admitted to being in love with each other at some point in time.”

And then they’re quiet. Another thread in the web drops.

They lose to Karasuno and it is the end of their high school volleyball career. At this point, you aren’t sure what’s worse—the tragic end or the fact that you were granted permission to ride the bus home with them and the two of them are currently hiding their faces in your shoulders in the back row of the bus. The three of you are the last to get off after arriving at Seijoh and you stay for the meeting knowing that Iwaizumi was going to walk you home after. He didn’t need to announce it, you knew by the grip he had on your hand during the entire meeting.

The team parts ways, leaving you in the comfort of your boyfriend and your best friend. “We doing this?” You look at both of them, noticing the way they refuse to look at each other. In a sense, it makes your heart hurt because you’ve grown to love both of these boys so much. Iwaizumi, the boy who saw you for what you were underneath your prickly exterior. He knew you underneath fake smiles and even faker conversations. He knew you for you.

Then there was Oikawa. The boy that unknowingly saved you by saving yours and Iwaizumi’s relationship. The boy that, after months of misunderstanding you, knew how to make you bloom and grow into the person you were and wanted to continue being. The boy that wanted to see you flourish not only for Iwaizumi’s sake, but because the two of you helped each other grow in ways that others could not. He knew what you wanted to be, and he knew he wasn’t going to stop being a part of your life until you got there.

Saying nothing else, you grab both of their hands before taking them to a place that had become a home to the three of you. Caffe Veloce was your destination of choice this evening, figuring that talking about such sensitive subjects on school grounds wasn’t necessarily the best place to converse. It was far from foreign for you, to be holding the hands of them both. In Iwaizumi’s absence, Oikawa often held your hand when you went places together—mostly so that he could have the physical touch he often craved. Eventually, it just became a habit. 

Despite the chilly, October evening air, the three of you had opted to sit outside so that nobody could eavesdrop on the conversation. After all, walls tend to reflect sound whereas the open air allows the vibrations to fade into nothing. “So, who wants to start?” You ask, as if you asking about how their day had gone rather than to talk about the underlying tension that had been eating the three of you alive for the last two months.

“Start with what—“ Iwaizumi is uncomfortable. He feels his girlfriend and his best friend of many years both staring at him, feels the way his heart his pounding in his chest like it isn’t doing its job of providing blood to his body. The thrumming in his ears is deafening.

“I love you, dummy.” That was a first for you, to hear Oikawa call him a name that’s met with bitter distaste. It’s a first, but it is a sign of growth. For Oikawa Tōru, he has always placed his best friend on some sort of pedestal, always regarding the man to god-like status and listening to his direction like gospel. At the end of the day, Iwaizumi Hajime is but a simple man. A man that the captain has been in love with for as long as he can remember.

“You can’t do this to me,” the ace simpers weakly as his resolve crumbles with a fragility foreign to him, “you know that I’ve been dating [name] for the last year—“

“And I love her too, Iwa. I wouldn’t have been able to even say this to you without her.”

“Aw,” you coo to the captain, “I love you too, Oiks.”

“This is too fucking weird.” Iwaizumi spits out, folding his arms over his chest and turning away from you both. Oikawa pretends the words don’t hurt but it’s nearly impossible to ignore the shards of his glass heart dropping from his chest into his stomach.

“Haji, just hear me out,” you say cautiously, gingerly holding one of his hands in yours, “if anyone can make this work, it’s us.”

There was pattern in the web becomes more intricate, as another spider adds webs to the loom.

The three of you graduate—Aoba Johsai, class of 2012. It’s a beautiful ceremony, but your parents never came to watch you walk. Instead, you’re filled with love from Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s family, neither of them knows your guys’ little secret. They knew you existed, Haji’s family knew you two were together and Oikawa’s knew the two of you were close friends, but they never even had the thought the complex and complicated web of your relationship existed.

After rigorous debate, the three of you settled on attending university and getting an apartment together. It’s strange, at first, like the three of you are truly seeing each for the first time in your lives. In a sense, you are, as the three of you share many firsts together. Like the first time you all sleep in your collective king size bed—the boys had given you the short lived honor of taking the space between them. After all, you were the one that brought this all together.

The first fight was probably the worst memory, yet one of the best at the same time. While fighting was normal between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, as their childhood anctics had yet to be put to rest, there was now an intricate level of intimacy that had broken free of the former and every insult hurled by the latter had been a nail in the setter’s coffin. “Haji, you need to chill out. You’re hurting Tōru’s feelings,”

“You always take his fucking side, [name], and I’m so fucking tired of it. You were my girlfriend first when he didn’t give a rat’s ass about you so why are you choosing him over me?”

“Asshat, I’m not picking a side, I’m picking our relationship over anything. And our relationship includes you, me, and dumbass so for the love of fuck, please stop actually hurting his feelings because then we lose a part of our relationship!”

“Why did you have to ruin it by calling me ‘dumbass’, babe?” Oikawa whines, the edge he was feeling from Iwaizumi’s anger tampering off with the way you handled him. One thing that Oikawa Tōru loves about you was the way you knew just what to say when it came to Iwa. It was another major distinction between the two of you. Simmering down, the former ace clenches his teeth as he claws at his scalp with his jagged fingernails.

“I’m sorry guys.” He says quietly, knowing that you’re right. At the end of the day, the most important thing was this strange, twisted relationship he’d landed in. But this relationship had you and it had Oikawa, and that was all Iwaizumi ever wanted.

The spider’s web is almost completely threaded.

The best memory overall was the very first time the three of you made love together, and it had nothing to do with the fact that there were three of you. It was the fact that three of you were so consumed and in love with each other that not a single movement felt wrong or rushed—everyone finally belonged to each other. There was no doubt of who loved whom more, an insecurity that had long gnawed at the back of your mind, which prompted the aforementioned evening.

“You guys have each other—you always have. I’m just kind of...here,” you had told them once after the two of them had returned from a movie date alone. At the time, you were curled up on the couch watching corny teen romance movies after coming home from a long day at work with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s that you’d demolished easily in the two hours you were left to your own devices.

“Honey,” Iwaizumi plopped beside you, taking the empty cup from your hand and setting it on the coffee table before pulling you into his lap with ease with his arms encircling your waist. “We have each other because we have you. Don’t ever think that you aren’t important to us too.” His words are meant to be encouraging, you know that they are, but you swear you hear little voices in your mind telling you that you were the one not cut out for this lifestyle. Knowing he’s not getting through, Oikawa rests on the arm of the couch, one leg swaying as it doesn’t quite touch the ground while his hands grasp one of yours.

“Babe, we only went without you because you were at work. We missed you the whole time,” you can sense the contradictory sentence coming, “but when you’re busy, Iwa and I take the time to explore being together too. You had a whole extra year and half of dating him—there’s things that I don’t know about him as a boyfriend that I have to learn for myself too.” Judging by the silence, Iwaizumi is worried that Oikawa had said the wrong thing even though he’s still holding you. But he couldn’t have said the wrong thing because it’s entirely true and all three of you know that.

“I love you guys.” You tuck your head underneath Hajime’s chin, simultaneously squeezing Oikawa’s hand in comfort and in search of forgiveness for your almost bull-headed attitude.

“We love you too, princess.” The former ace adds softly, his jaw moving along the crown of your head as speaks.

“Why don’t we show you how much we love you?”

The three of you being together is a clarity you’d never experienced before—truly a feeling unlike any other. The way that Hajime is tentative and rough at the same time, making sure they every millimeter of your skin is bruised and bitten with purple affection, whereas Tōru seeks to bring you reassurance with encouraging whispers while caressing your breasts. Your back is to the former captain’s chest, allowing him to nibble on your bare shoulders while he holds you down as Iwaizumi has his face between your thighs.

Had it not been so intimate, you probably would have pushed to skip all the foreplay.

But Iwa has his face between your thighs with your legs dangling off his shoulders as he’s nipping and biting at the flesh on either side of him. Each bite makes you help from sensitivity, while Oikawa does his best to pinch and tease your nipples while filling your head with loving words. “We’re gonna take real good care you,” he croons sweetly as a whimper escapes your throat.

Iwaizumi gives a tentative lick to your folds, cautiously peeling them back like a flower, as if he had never done this with you. In some capacity, you suppose that was true. Carefully, his tongue swirls around your swelling clit, taking his sweet time to coax your reaction. “Haji!” Instinctively, you press your thighs together, nearly crushing his head but the man between you likes the pain. Oikawa brings a hand gingerly underneath your jaw before his fingers dig into your skin, pulling your attention away from Iwaizumi and onto him.

“I want to feel you.” And his lips are on yours as if it were the first time you had ever kissed. While he’s still holding your chin, his tongue is laving against your slightly chapped lips, almost as if to soothe the dryness, before he slips in. You aren’t sure what’s more distracting—the strange, intimate way that Oikawa Tōru is exploring your mouth with his tongue or the fact that Iwaizumi Hajime was mirroring the exact same treatment on your cunt. Their movements are slow and steady and you’re wondering just how they know that the other is moving this cautiously.

But slow and steady and cautious has never been Iwaizumi’s style in bed, no matter how much he tried to make the moment last. For just a second, he pulls away from your lower region swabbing his middle finger around his mouth and inserting it into you without warning before his tongue comes back to join the party. Were it not for Oikawa’s mouth covering your own at the moment, you’re sure that a string of profanities would be leaving your mouth with the way Hajime’s finger is pressing and reaching for the weak spots that his tongue cannot reach.

Oikawa’s freehand travels down from pinching your nipple to threading themselves into Iwaizumi’s hair, encouraging him to bring you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the evening. The ace didn’t need to be told twice. Rather than swatting off Oikawa’s hand, Iwaizumi blindly grabs his wrist with his own free hand, pulling the setter closer so as if to signal to him that he needs to be pulled harder. Adding another finger inside of you, Iwa sets a punishing pace, entirely turned on by the burning feeling in his scalp and the muted moans of yours that his best friend was covering up.

There’s almost no rhythm to his work, or so you believe. But Iwaizumi is a meticulous man, and he would be damned if he didn’t love a woman properly. His fingers are nearly fucking you open, alternating between scissoring you and pushing on that spongy bundle of tissue that makes you want to scream, all the while your clit is being rolled between his teeth with an occasional suckle, nearly sucking the oxygen straight from your lungs. You pull away from Tōru, eyes half shut as broken cries leave your chest while you try and regain your breath. “We love you, [name],” the setter mumbles along your skin, pulling even harder at his best friend’s scalp to tell him to finish you. Iwaizumi pulls away from your warmth, his chin drenched with saliva and your juices and Oikawa swears up and down he’s never seen the man more attractive than he was in that moment.

The ace pulls his fingers from inside you before the flats of three of his fingers are wildly, furiously, rubbing at your sensitive clit because all he wants right now is to hear you scream. But you live in an apartment and have neighbors and as much as they both want to hear you beg and cry for them, Oikawa shoves three fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. “Don’t ever think for a second that we don’t love you,” Iwaizumi grits out between his grinding teeth, his hand moving at breakneck speeds knowing you’re so goddamn close.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ you’re chanting out around Oikawa’s fingers while his free hand migrated to languidly stroke the man bringing you to your end. That caught his attention real quick, as Iwaizumi crashed his lips onto Tōru’s. It was rough and loving at the same time, much like the ace himself. Your orgasm ripped through you like a tsunami causing you to bite down on the captain’s fingers. Whiny whimpers escape through your muffled slew of curses as Iwaizumi’s speed slows before he pulls his soaked hand away from you, Oikawa doing the same with your mouth before he pins Iwaizumi down onto the bed, overcome and overwhelmed with need. Luckily for him, you’re incapacitated at the moment, giving the boys a chance to show each other their love as well.

It’s captivating to watch, you muse internally, the way that Iwaizumi goes from manhandling you to delicately cradling every part of Oikawa that he can touch. The way their tongues are swirling together and the way they’re both stroking each other’s cocks to alleviate an ounce of pressure—it’s so intimate. It’s so goddamn beautiful. Despite Tōru claiming they were going to show you how much they loved you, this worked just as well because there’s a part of you adores the way they love each other just as much.

Like watching a fly become trapped in a spider’s, large, billowing web.

[whatapunk]

Holy butts I wrote a second chapter!! I am soooo thankful for everyone who liked or reblogged the first chapter because truly, truly, truly you gave me more motivation than you could possibly realize! 

A couple things: 

I’ve included dialogue from the s02e01 scene where Kanan and Hera have a very Han/Leia hallway argument and I definitely don’t want to take credit for such things (I only wanted to add it to help me with my flow a bit)

Right now I’m firmly trying so very hard to fit it perfectly into canon (it’s just something I like doing, idk) but eventually it might go a lil more AU, I just haven’t decided yet

This shit had me on wookieepedia searching the most random stuff, but rest assured, there is garlic in the Star Wars universe

Enjoy!

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: t for now, m in future chapters (I'm guessing) for language and some non-explicit intimacy

Word Count: 2446

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1

Chapter 2

Kanan sat on the step ladder leading up to the Liberator’s control panels. His presence was a silent mark of informality in the middle of the crew’s debriefing meeting with Commander Sato. The rest of the crew, plus Ahsoka, stood around the holo-console in the middle of the floor. Sato was saying something about the Ghost crew- his crew- but Kanan was barely half listening. For one, every other word that came out of Sato’s mouth was some military formality and, thus, not something that interested him in the slightest. But the main reason he wasn’t listening was that Rhia Denley’s image was still burned into his thoughts.

Seven years. When you hadn’t seen someone in this galaxy for seven years, you started to assume you never would again. At least, that’s how Kanan had felt. 

However, suddenly she was here again- she existed again, something Kanan had tried hard to convince himself wasn’t even true. It was easier to convince himself she was something he’d imagined than for him to remember her and the way she’d crushed his young heart years ago. Besides, thinking about that heartache had always made him feel guilty once Hera was in his life. Now, however, he was feeling so many things he didn’t even have room for guilt.

What he did have room for was a hefty amount of bitterness, and for more than one reason. First of all, he was already bitter before Rhia showed up; he’d hardly hidden his feelings and had become almost spiteful about how they had been sucked into a military operation. But even that wasn’t totally separate from his thoughts about Rhia.

Rhia and Kanan had become a “thing” on Gorse, very soon after Kanan had set up what passed as a life there. Their meeting was by chance, but they had run into each other briefly when he was even younger and worked with a smuggler named Janus Kasmir. It was actually Rhia who told him about low-profile jobs on Gorse then, so he wasn’t altogether surprised that she ended up there eventually too. While he wasn’t much more than a kid when they first met, when they reconnected on Gorse, he was older and far more interesting to Rhia. They quickly became infatuated with one another for the better part of four months, which was practically a lifelong commitment to Kanan. Before Hera, Rhia was the longest relationship he’d ever been in. 

Rhia, however, had bigger goals than being a bartender’s girlfriend and working as a miner on Cynda. Rhia, much like Hera, was interested in the Rebellion. She’d made this clear early on, but she didn’t try to preach to Kanan, and he’d liked that about her. However, once she’d found a connection to a group of Rebels on the Holonet, she had tried- more than once- to get him to come with her. That’s what made running into her here, of all places, all the more exasperating and awkward. He’d ended up here anyway, despite his countless protestations- and he didn’t even want to be.

Seeing Rhia again reminded him, among other things, of all of the reasons he told her he didn’t want to join the Rebellion. And that reminded him that they were all still true.

Kanan heard Sato say something about the Spectres being “invaluable,” and then suddenly Chopper burst into the meeting, much to Commander Sato and Hera’s dismay. He was going on about an emergency incoming transmission, and, frankly, Kanan welcomed the change. His bitterness with this situation, this Rebellion- this meeting had reached its peak.

***

Less than ten minutes later, Kanan’s bitterness had already gotten him into trouble, and with Hera, no less. 

After telling Chopper to play his transmission during a “secret debriefing,” Hera had scowled at him for the rest of the meeting. He’d tried to rush out and get out of her line of fire once they were dismissed, but she’d caught him in the hallway and firmly let him know he wasn’t authorized to do that.

“Authorization! Procedure! That’s what’s bothering me!” he’d raised his voice, uncaring of the people that were attempting to walk past them as they argued. 

Hera put her hands up gently, sighing at having finally gotten him to drop the passive aggressive quips about their work lately. It wasn’t hard to guess what had been bothering him, but he was a grown adult who should be able to talk to her, of all people.

“All right. Talk to me,” she said, lowering her voice. Kanan sighed and did the same.

“After this mission, I want us to go back on our own,” he said firmly. “Fighting alongside soldiers isn’t what I signed up for.” At that, Hera frowned at him and shoved him into an open doorway, pointing a gloved finger in his face.

“You seem to be forgetting these soldiers helped save your life,” she said, looking at him with those big eyes that could be both demanding and softening at the same time. After that remark, he couldn’t meet them.

“And I’m grateful,” he started, “but that doesn’t mean I want to join their little army. When you and I started together, it was ‘Rob from the Empire, give to the needy,’ a noble cause. Now we’re getting drawn into some kind of military thing! I don’t like it.” 

Somehow Hera’s voice became more serious and more earnest.

“We are fighting a bigger fight, but it’s still the right fight,” she said, all but pleading with him to understand that they’d been fighting in the name of the Rebellion all along. Kanan wasn’t having it.

“I survived one war. I’m not ready for another one,” he said, turning away from her. She grabbed his arm. “I saw what it did.”

“To the Jedi?” she asked, almost whispering. He looked back at her.

“To everyone.” He left the doorway and continued walking down the hall, hearing Hera’s exasperated sigh behind him. 

Kanan loved virtually everything about Hera, even her flaws. She was incredibly stubborn, but since he was so go-with-the-flow, it never really got in their way. In fact, it practically complimented his own personality. She would get adamant and obsessed over something, and he would follow her anywhere and do anything she asked of him. At least, that’s how things had gone for them for the past seven years, right up until the formal Rebellion had rescued him from the Grand Inquisitor. Now it was suddenly a reality of Kanan’s world that he was part of a military operation and that could only lead to one thing: war. 

Hera had been familiar with war her whole life, but not in the same way Kanan had. He’d fought in battles as a young teen alongside his master, Depa Billaba and seen the realities of it all over the galaxy. Hera’s own world was war-torn, for sure, but her role in that war was far different than Kanan’s. For the first time since he’d met her, he felt like she was incapable of understanding him.

Kanan headed to the only place he really wanted to be right now: his quarters on Ghost. He felt like meditating, if only for the quiet. He lost himself in his thoughts there for maybe an hour, and eventually his sour attitude had at least subsided. He remembered his harsh tone with Hera and his obvious instigation of Chopper in the meeting. He still didn’t care about what Sato thought, but he felt bad for making Hera look bad. Now, it felt like such a childish thing to have done.

He left his quarters and, once seeing the Ghost was still empty, he went back out into the bay. It was less busy now, as most of the cargo that littered the area earlier had been taken elsewhere by now. His eyes scanned for Hera; he knew he should apologize to her. When he didn’t see her, or any of the Spectres, he set off down one of the hallways that he believed led to the commissary. He hadn’t taken the time to get to know his way around this ship (by design) so he honestly had no clue where to start looking for her. He’d gone pretty far without seeing anything resembling a commissary and was about to turn around when an amazing aroma hit him and made his stomach growl: garlic. 

Something told him to follow the smell, which led him down a corridor that opened up to a large galley. Standing in front of a pan sizzling on the stove, as Kanan had expected, was Rhia. She looked up at him, surprised, but then smiled.

“I should have known this would attract you,” she said with a smirk, then turned her attention back to the sizzling pan, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me here,” Kanan added, grabbing a seat at an empty table near the stove. “You know how I feel about your cooking.” She looked up and grinned at him.

“The same way everyone does,” she said, confidently. She left the pan and attended to a cutting board with what looked like an onion and some kind of pepper on it. 

Kanan’s stomach growled again. Rhia was an amazing cook and loved every piece of food he’d ever seen her hold. She only ever ate ration bars or drank nutritive milk when she absolutely had to. Otherwise, she kept her own stock of spices and quality ingredients and went well out of her way (and budget) to get fresh produce. Kanan’s mind drifted back to memories of watching Rhia cooking in her kitchen on Gorse. He remembered breakfast with eggs and some sort of mushroom, watching her move her hands skillfully around knives and pans and the ingredients, often wearing nothing but-

“So,” Rhia started, pulling Kanan out of his memory. “You finally joined the Rebellion.” Kanan’s brow wrinkled.

“What do you mean by finally?” he asked, already feeling himself becoming defensive. Rhia rolled her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said, slicing into her pepper, grinning.

“And no, I did not join anything,” Kanan said, putting extra emphasis on “I” and jabbing his thumb to his chest. She looked back up at him as she scraped ingredients from her cutting board to the pan. 

“That was Hera Syndulla, wasn’t it? Captain of the Ghost? You’re part of Ghost crew, right?” she pressed, confused. Kanan was more than a little surprised.

“You’ve heard of us?” Kanan asked, his vanity getting the better of him and nearly allowing a smile to creep onto his face. Rhia rolled her eyes again and laughed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kanan. I’ve heard of Captain Syndulla, not her first mate,” she joked, laughing more at the fall of Kanan’s expression. Then realization struck her. “Wait, are you the one we just blew up a star destroyer for?” Kanan grimaced.

“Yes, but that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t tell them to- and it was Chopper who-” Rhia held her hand up, seeing him getting defensive.

“Kanan, I don’t really know anything about what happened. I wasn’t here for it, I just heard about it. I was on a freighter headed to a rendezvous. I don’t even know who Chopper is,” she said, going back to her pan.

“He’s our droid,” Kanan said flatly. “Anyway, my crew performed the rescue. I was aboard Tarkin’s destroyer.” Rhia looked up at him again, this time a little more serious.

“What was that like?” she asked.

“Not fun.”

Rhia didn’t push the topic further. She grabbed a pan of noodles that had been sitting over to her right and mixed them into the skillet with some oil. Kanan was suddenly fascinated by the chipped edge of the table in front of him. 

Satisfied with the meal in front of her, Rhia reached into a cabinet behind her and pulled out two plates and then matched them with two forks. She set them out on the table Kanan was sitting at and then divided the noodles in half. Before she sat down, however, she went back to the cabinet and grabbed two glasses. When she set them down the table Kanan looked up at her, arching his eyebrow. She went to a backpack that sat on the floor behind the counter and pulled out a glass bottle with no markings and a familiar light brown liquid sloshing inside. She poured herself a drink, placed the mouth of the bottle over his glass and paused, looking at him, silently offering the drink. 

“I can’t think of what goes better with your dinners,” he said, and she poured. 

As soon as Kanan took a bite, his memories were triggered all over again. He was pretty sure he’d never even eaten this specific dish before, given her access to such a wide variety of ingredients. But it didn’t matter. Rhia’s meals were memorable for some sort of shared quality that bound them all together, even when they were drastically different. Not only that, but he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten, and how much longer it had been since he’d eaten something of this quality. For a few minutes they ate in silence, Kanan unavailable for any and all conversation. Eventually, Rhia spoke.

“So explain to me how you haven’t joined the Rebellion?” Kanan sighed, but the food had made him quite amenable to discussing just about anything. He did, however, take a drink before he replied.

“I didn’t know we were a cell. I didn’t know there were cells. Hera was the only one who spoke to Fulcrum and knew of the larger operation. I found out when I was… rescued,” Kanan ended quietly. Rhia could tell that being rescued and needing so much from so many, made him uncomfortable. 

“That had to be quite a shock,” she said, sensing the need for a new subject. “So you and Hera, when did you two meet?” she asked. Kanan looked at her, surprised. He could tell by the way she asked, she knew that they were together. Rhia gave him a “give me a break” look.

“Kanan, really- my ‘pilot’? Shit, I’ve seen explosions that were more subtle.” She chuckled and took another drink, emptying the glass. Kanan did the same. Rhia offered up the bottle again.

“Another?”

Kanan looked at it, hesitating. He hardly drank at all anymore, let alone like he did when they were living on Gorse. However, depending on where this conversation was going to go, Kanan felt like he would need something more than blood in his veins. 

“One more.”

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 06

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X  collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,295

Note: Shit’s starting to get WiLd. 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

Unfortunately for you, the second you walked into your dorm room you were graced by the presence of a wild Jimin in his natural habitat, your couch. “Ooo, you’re back late? Were you on a date?” You ignored him and proceeding to take off your shoes, fighting the tempting urge to throw one at him. “Yes actually, I was.” You saw Alex slowly emerge from her room wearing nothing but his shirt and held back the desire to roll your eyes, it wasn’t long ago that she had been complaining about how much she hated Jimin and yet there she was. “Oh shit with who?” Jimin eagerly asked, he clearly didn’t believe someone like you could land a date and while he was right, you couldn’t let him know that.

“Your mom.” You usually were the bigger person, although with Jimin you couldn’t resist and frankly you didn’t care to try. Ever since high school your personalities had constantly clashed. He was one of the loud, rambunctious kids and you hated those kids with a passion, the type that would insult teachers for entertainment and pick on kids who couldn’t fight back. You considered it water under the bridge but your hatred for each other never really subsided. You speed-walked to your room before he could formulate a reply and you could hear Alex scoffing at your childishness but you didn’t care. And it felt liberating to not give a shit about what Alex thought. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook was at a bar trying to pry his newly discovered feelings for you away with a symbolic crowbar others referred to as alcohol. He had work the next day so while getting piss drunk was tempting, he needed to resist. He just wished that he would be able to resist you half as well as he could resist whiskey but you were all the more intoxicating and infinitely more addictive. You were kind, pure and entirely undamaged by the harsh realities of life. Jungkook hadn’t felt so carefree in a while and he didn’t want to get attached to the feeling either. “I’m sure you didn’t screw up that bad.” “She confessed to me, I kissed her and then I basically kicked her out of my car.” “What the fuck, Jeon? That’s bad, even for you.” He elbowed Mel gently at the statement but he understood where she was coming from, when it came to love Jungkook was no smarter than a brick.  “Well, she kissed me on the cheek before she left so I don’t think she was upset about it.” Mel gave Jungkook’s evidently empty head a sharp flick which had Jungkook rushing to soothe it. “What the fuck was that for?” “You basically just gave her a confirmation that you liked her back.” Jungkook simply shook his head and walked away. Denial was his safest option but his self control was deteriorating at a rate faster than he could manage. He just wished you’d give him the distance to truly get over you.

You woke up far too early for a Wednesday, your classes didn’t start until 11 and there was really no reason for you to be up anytime before 9 but Alex’s sobbing wasn’t subtle and if you weren’t sure she didn’t care, you would’ve thought she was trying to wake you up. 

You knocked lightly before poking your head in and true to your prior speculations, Alex was crying. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You sat next to her on the edge of her bed and allowed her to cry into your shoulder. You may have lost all your trust, respect and love for her but you still cared enough to stay. Either that or you were too scared to break things off. “Jimin and I broke up.” You tried not to chuckle. Her pain was in no way amusing to you (okay, maybe a little) but her unhealthy, on-again off-again relationship was mildly amusing to you. “I know you don’t want to hear this but I think this is better for you. I just hope you’re done for good this time.” She nodded in agreement but you knew she wasn’t going to listen.

Jungkook wasn’t very good at asking girls out, primarily because he never really had to. He hasn’t been on an actual date since he was with his last serious girlfriend 5 years ago and he only ever hooked up with girls while half-drunk since then. Therefore, Jungkook had no idea what he was doing standing outside of your dorm building at 6pm. He didn’t even ask if you were free. He pressed the buzzer for your dorm number and wasn’t really surprised when your roommate responded instead. “Hello, Y/N did you forget your key card again?” “Hi, I’m Jungkook. Y/N’s friend.” Alex frowned in confusion as she raked her memories for the familiar name. She tried to think of any rational reason as to why a man would be here for you. He must be that Jungkook. She let him in and waited for him to knock on the door. “Y/N isn’t here right now but she will be soon, she went out to grab some groceries. You’re welcome to wait for her inside?” Jungkook took her offer and sat tentatively on the couch, after all he didn’t want to impose. 

Alex was still an emotional train wreck from her break-up (which you weren’t allowed to know the details about) and opted to quietly sniffle on the other end of the couch. Jungkook tried to ignore it but he thought that if he were to establish a relationship with you, he should get along with your roommate. “Uhh, are you okay?” She nodded unconvincingly and every ounce of Jungkook’s being begged him to give up, but human decency suggested that the socially accepted protocol would be to ask again. “Are you sure?” And suddenly, like a dam that unexpectedly bursted, her sniffling turned to sobbing and she was crying on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is I’m sure it’ll work out.” Textbook advice that was in no way helpful, but it was all he could think of without knowing what she was even crying about. 

Alex looked up to face him through her heavy eyelashes. It might’ve been the heartbreak talking but he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen and all she could think about was kissing his gorgeous lips. She should’ve thought about you, she should’ve thought about him, she should’ve thought in general but she didn’t and just as she lunged forward, Jungkook had pushed her away and you had made your presence noticeable.

“Seriously Alex?” She was startled when she saw you standing at the door and she could feel the guilt settle in when she saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N, I’m so s-.” “Save it.” You rolled your eyes before blinking the tears away and aggressively dropping the grocery bags onto your kitchen island. You tried to wipe away whatever was left of your tears before you turned around, you didn’t want her to think you were weak. “I didn’t-” Jungkook started, but you were quick to interrupt him. “Shut up Jungkook, it’s not you I’m mad at.”  While your tone was venomous, Jungkook was just grateful you weren’t mad at him although in that moment, he would’ve rather been anywhere else but in the middle of your catfight. 

“I get your upset but come on, look at him, you can’t seriously think you’re his type?” That was the exact moment you would’ve burst into tears if it wasn’t for Jungkook watching on the sidelines. You were going to keep your resolve together even if it were to kill you. “It doesn’t matter, good friends don’t kiss boys their friends like, Alex! It’s common sense.” “And what do you know about being a good friend?”

Pin-drop silence followed that question and the tension in the room had skyrocketed. You didn’t know what to say and neither did she. You could tell she felt guilty but Alex was never good at admitting her mistakes. “You’re right, what do I know?” You walked to your room and closed the door but the little sprint before you entered warned Jungkook that you were crying. He contemplated following you but he was worried you wanted space. Ultimately, the awkward silence Jungkook had to endure was more than enough motivation to power through his worries and knock on your door. 

“Give me a second.” Jungkook could hear the pain in your voice, the hiccup in your breath and the subtle sounds of excessive amounts of tissues being pulled. When you eventually opened the door, your face was tear-free and you wore an artificial smile on your face. You made room for him to come in and while he entered you muttered an apology. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” You didn’t want him to think you were pathetic or emotional so you kept the facade, you had been pushing aside your feelings for years, you could handle a few more minutes. “Just for the record, I didn’t want to kiss her.” You giggled at his attempt to lighten the mood, maybe it was too soon to laugh but something about it felt bitter.

“I know, honestly we fight like this all the time - it’s not a big deal.” That was a lie and Jungkook could tell which was why he pulled you in for a comforting hug where he whispered, “it’s okay to cry, Y/N, I can tell you want to.” You cried and with every passing second you cried harder. You knew that things would never be the same, they were never going to after that godforsaken party that you never should’ve gone to but it still felt nice. It felt nice to have a shoulder to cry on, someone to turn to that at least seemed like they cared.

Time passed before you stopped crying and you honestly didn’t know how much although the slight ache after pulling away from the hug was an indicator that it had been a while. “Oh no! I’m sorry I got your shirt wet.” You grabbed another excessive set of tissues to try and dry it, genuine guilt on your face. “It’s fine, Y/N. I never liked this shirt anyway.” You smiled and Jungkook’s heart softened at the way your eyes smiled with you. You needed a distraction and like a 13-year-old, all he could think of was to ask you out to a movie. 

“Can we watch the new Bad Boys movie? I heard Vanessa Hudgens is in it and I can’t wait to make high school musical jokes.” Jungkook chuckled at your joke until he realised you weren’t kidding. “Bad Boys, Y/N seriously? You’re making me watch a cop movie?” “It’s either that or Frozen 2. Your choice.” He sighed and shook his head jokingly before approaching the kiosk to buy the tickets. You wanted to repay him for paying for dinner so you had sneakily paid while Jungkook was reaching for his wallet. Despite the fact that the tickets cost a fraction of the price he paid at the restaurant, Jungkook was still upset and gave you an extensive lecture on why you should never do that again. 

“Hey, isn’t funny how you and Will Smith are both cops that drive expensive Porsches?” “You know, the movie was actually based on my life.” You gave him a skeptical look to which he shrugged. Jungkook would never tell you but he hated every second of it and found himself enjoying your reactions more than the actual film. He knew he was in trouble, knee-deep in it actually, but looking at you so happy made him realise he didn’t mind. 

The walk to the car was short and by the time you got there, you had already exhausted all of the jokes you could possibly think of about the movie. “Jungkook?” He hummed to let you know that he was listening while he started the engine, this time he knew what was coming and he had already prepared an answer. “I never really got an answer to my question form last week and I just…” You completely lost your train of thought and Jungkook smiled at how nervous you were. He thought he had already made it very clear but Jungkook was infamously bad at expressing his emotions so he didn’t mind voicing it. “Yes, Y/N, I like you too.” You tried to hide your relief and bit back the smile that was growing on your lips. You simply cleared your throat and mustered out a quiet, “cool.” 

The second you arrived at your dorm, you unbuckled your seatbelt and tried to rush out of the car before things would escalate but Jungkook pulled the door shut. “Not even a thanks?” You pouted and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry, thank you.” You tried to leave again but his hand didn’t budge. You turned to face him and his face had inched a lot closer, your lips almost touching. He was leaning closer and you were subconsciously leaning in too but the second you had realised, you pulled back abruptly before your lips could touch and hit your head on the car roof. “Ouch…” You rubbed your head and Jungkook chuckled as he returned to his original position.

“Y/N, if you don’t want to kiss me you can just say so, I don’t mind.” You could feel the panic settling in. You wanted to kiss him, really, really, badly but you were afraid that your lack of experience would ruin everything. “I do want to kiss you! It’s just…I’m not very good at it.” You very quietly mumbled that last part but Jungkook still heard and squeezed your face in one of his hands. “Baby, it’s not a big deal, you’ll get better with practice I promise.” You couldn’t reply with your cheeks squished together. “Can we try that again?” “No injuries this time?” You groaned and covered your face with your hands from embarrassment but Jungkook was quick to apologise and pull your hands away. 

Once his lips were on yours, you’d forgotten about everything else. He did most of the work but you’d like to think that you contributed a little. Eventually, it just felt natural and you didn’t really want to stop. Unfortunately, you needed oxygen and when you pulled away breathless, Jungkook chuckled. “We need to work on your stamina. Wanna try again?” You giggled at his lame attempt at tricking you but you kissed him again nonetheless, this time more prepared. You could feel Jungkook lean back and his hand on your cheek subtly dragged you with him. When your hand fell onto his upper thigh for balance, Jungkook knew he’d need to stop, worried he might scare you with his oncoming boner. 

“You should go up now, it’s getting late.” You pouted, upset at the fact that you couldn’t kiss him for longer. “Are you sure? I think I need more practice.” You kissed him again but he kept it short, giving you a few more pecks before pinching your cheek. “I’ll see you again soon and then I promise you infinite kisses, okay?” You nodded and waved him whispering a small goodnight as you left the care. There was no way to deny that Jungkook had feelings for you, but in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The second you got into your room, you fell face-first onto the bed, grabbed the nearest pillow and squealed like a teenage girl. When you had eventually stopped, you got ready for bed in an attempt to push Jungkook to the back of your mind. If you were going to get any semblance of sleep, you’d need to do it now before the feeling of his lips consumed you entirely. 

[barrysjumpsuit]

remember you - reader x pope heyward

requested? inspired by ideas @letsgofullkook gave me thank you bb

word count: 1.6k

warnings? this is pure pope fluff

summary: pope heyward is in college. he meets a girl and falls heads over heels for her, but pope doesn’t realize what she did to him years ago

----

It was Pope’s first day of college. He had done it: he had left the Outer Banks. While Chapel Hill wasn’t that far away, it was far enough. Living in a dorm and living the college life was more liberating than he would have ever expected.

He still had his friends nearby, but he was the only pogue he knew to be attending the university. There were several others, like Topper, that he knew of but didn’t really care about. 

Life was good for Pope Heyward, but it got better when you walked into it, there before his Calculus class. 

It felt like he had known you for his entire life. 

Your smile felt like home. Pope couldn’t help but smile back when you sat down next to him. You smelled like lavender and wore a striped romper, the colors reminding Pope of an Outer Banks sunset. 

“Mind if I sit here?” you asked, and Pope eagerly nodded. You sat down next to him, your backpack at your feet under the table that spread from one side of the lecture hall to the other. 

“I’m Pope,” he blurted suddenly, and you looked up, surprised. He smiled at you, trying to hide his awkwardness, but you didn’t seem to notice.

“Hey, I’m y/n,” you said, smiling back at him. You tucked your hair behind your ear before speaking again. “What’s your major?”

“Mortuary studies,” he responded, perhaps a little too brightly and enthusiastically. “What’s yours?”

“Oh, that’s really cool. I’m engineering physics,” she responded. “A bit more boring.”

Pope laughed. “Well, if it bores you to death, I might end up working with you,” he responded. In true Pope fashion, he regretted his words, wondering where they came from and halfway expecting a whap on the side of his head with JJ’s bunched-up baseball cap.

“Are you flirting with me, Pope?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. 

“I- uh-” he stammered, but you kept smiling at him. 

He never got the chance to respond before their professor walked into the classroom. Pope did his best to divert his attention towards his professor and the syllabus he was droning about, but it was hard with you sitting beside him.

The class felt like it stretched on for hours. 

Once it ended, everyone stood, including you from your spot beside him. Pope scrambled to gather his papers and shove them in his backpack, jerked back to reality. Just as he filed away his papers, he looked to see a torn-off piece of paper from the margin of a syllabus sitting in front of him.

By the time his mind registered what it was, you were already gone, filing out the door with the rest of the students. Pope picked up the piece of paper from the table, his eyes scanning your name and phone number, written in perfect printed handwriting.

---

That night, Pope texted you.

It took a lot of urging from his roommate and a call to JJ for it to happen, but he did it. He sent Hey, it’s Pope Heyward from calc! :), opting for that rather than JJ’s suggestion of “hey sexy thing”. 

Hey Heyward! You replied a few minutes later, followed by a how’s it going?

Pope smiled in the light of his phone in the dark room, and his roommate whooped in excitement. He waited a few more minutes to text you back - he didn’t want to seem too excited.

Throughout the night and the next day, Pope couldn’t get you off his mind. He called JJ and Kiara, asking for advice. “Should I ask her out?” he confided the evening after he met you. 

“Bro, are you kidding me right now?” JJ’s voice came over the speakerphone. There was a grunt, followed by Kiara’s voice.

“Well, do you want to, Pope?” she asked, her voice calmer and more patient.

“What if it’s too soon?” he asked, losing all confidence. “It’s been not even two days, Kie.”

“She’s probably in the same boat as you!” she said from the other end of the line. “She’s probably new here and doesn’t have many friends. She probably sat next to you for a reason, Pope.”

Kiara’s words worked to calm Pope’s racing thoughts.

The next morning, in your 9:30 am calculus class, he asked the question.

“Do you want to have a study session?”

---

That week’s study session turned into a regular thing. 

Pretty soon, they turned into study dates.

Two weeks into the semester, you made it official. Your personalities complimented each other to a T. You pushed him when he was hesitant, and he grounded you when you were worked up. 

One night, the week of midterms, Pope got a call from you in the middle of the night.

“Hey, y/n, what’s up?” he asked in a hushed voice, sliding from his lofted bed and slipping into the hallway. 

“Hey Heyward,” you said, in your customary greeting. “So I’m studying for my history final, right? And-”

Pope sat down on the floor of the dorm hallway, listening to you think, not caring that he only wore a pair of boxers. Listening to you talk, letting him exist in that moment with you, was a nice feeling. You were brilliant; Pope admired it, but was slightly jealous, and kind of annoyed.

He was struggling in calculus. It wasn’t something Pope had expected to happen, but it was. The class was fast paced, and he constantly found himself falling behind in notes and on practice problems. But you were a calculus whiz; Pope didn’t know how you managed to perfectly copy down the notes and fly through the practice problems with such confidence.

Their study dates were almost exclusively calculus based. You would help Pope until the early hours of the morning. One time, he offered his bed to you, when it became too late for it to be worth going to your own bed. Pope slept on the floor, thinking about how lucky he was.

The next night’s study date, you confided in Pope. You had him over, your roommate out for the weekend. 

“This philosophy, humanities shit? Can’t handle it,” you said, exasperated. 

“How? It’s so interesting,” Pope replied, shaking his head. “‘The Epic of Gilgamesh’ is a classic, y/n!”

“Why?” you complained. “It’s bland, I can’t read more than two pages at a time.”

That night, Pope walked you through the whole book. He didn’t even realize it was three in the morning until you had gotten through your study guide for your exam.

“Just stay here tonight,” you insisted. Pope nodded, and made sure his phone was charging before picking out a spot on the cream-colored throw rug that covered your floor.

“Is there a blanket I could borrow?” he asked, not noticing that you had scooted all the way towards the wall in your bed, leaving room for him.

“Sleep with me tonight?” you asked from your bed, smiling gently at him. Pope nodded, switching off the lights, before laying down on the mattress next to you.

---

A week after that, Pope invited you home to the Outer Banks for a day.

You met his friends, and they took you surfing and then for an evening ride on the HMS Pogue to watch the sunset. 

Your head was laying in Pope’s lap. He found it odd, to be hanging out with his crew with a girlfriend. He listened while you and Kiara discussed the constellations and planets they could see in the sky last night. JJ laid next to them, his eyes trained on the sky, trying to follow their pointing fingers.

John B was sitting silently behind the steering wheel, his feet kicked up on the dash. At one point, he made eye contact with Pope, and flashed him a thumbs up and mouthed, I like her.

Pope couldn’t help but smile back at him before diverting his attention back to you. How the starlight reflecting off the water illuminated your face, and how you fit in so effortlessly with him and his friends.

“It’s like I’ve known you my whole life,” he murmured to you that night as they motored back towards the Chateau. 

“Well, close to it,” you said, laughing, but stopping once your eyes landed on Pope’s confused expression. “Wait… you don’t remember me?”

“What are you talking about?” Pope asked, his heart twisting, trying to fly out of his chest.

“Fifth grade. North Carolina state spelling bee.”

Your words brought back a flood of memories. Pope remembered the high school gymnasium in Raleigh. He sat in a sea of chairs, all empty except for a girl to his right. You and Pope had been even throughout the entirety of the spelling bee, and now, you were the last two standing.

“Pope Heyward,” the announcer had said. Pope stood, walked to the microphone, and found his parents in the audience. “Your word is ‘camouflage’.”

He took a shaky breath, audible in the microphone.

“C-A-M-O-F-L-”

The buzzer sounded, and Pope’s heart stopped.

“That is incorrect. Y/n y/l/n, you have a chance to steal. If you spell this word correctly, you will win the spelling bee. Your word is ‘camouflage’.”

You had stepped up to the microphone beside where Pope stood.

“Camouflage. C-A-M-O-U-F-L-A-G-E. Camouflage.”

“That is correct.”

Pope found it hard to believe that it was you. The same girl who beat him in the spelling bee in the fifth grade. Now, you smiled up at him, laughing, nestled in his lap on his favorite boat, in his favorite place, with his favorite friends. 

“I, uh… didn’t remember you,” he stammered.  “We were so young, how do you remember me?”

You laughed, and Pope was captivated by the way your eyes sparkled under the stars.

“Pope Heyward, how could I not remember you?”

----

taglist @letsgofullkook @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @queenk00k @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks @stargazingstarkey 

[lost-inthedream]

What happened in the night club - part I

Anon request:  Could you please create a suggestive scene with the members of SF9 in a night club???

Summary: Three different readers, Three different scenarios, One club.

Pairing: hyung line x female readers

Note: It’s less suggestive than I planned. Still sensual though.

Playing: Joe Hertz - Stay Lost  

Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistake that you find.

Youngbin:

Playing: Joe Hertz - Stay Lost (feat. Amber-Simone) (Cabu Remix)

All that nights spent in that loud and sparkly ambients never fail to amuse him but he can’t say anything was lacking. At least one girl every time that he hits there wasn’t bad, however, they were always different girls and he felt like he gave parts of him to way too many different people. He felt a bit wasted. That night he was at that cool club only for the sake of the music, he promised, just to lose himself on the beat flow.

You spotted him first, the grave face guy sipping on a drink that you suddenly wanted to taste. From time to time he closed his eyes after sucking a bit from the straw. This time he opened his eyes to notice you inert on the dance floor. The highlighted. You scratched your neck and went towards him. “Which drink is this?” You pointed to the glass in his hand.

“They call it mojito” he explains. It's my first time drinking this one but its so refreshing.

“Is this a mint leaf?” You lifted his hand to see better.

He nods.

“It seems like I’m gonna like it but I’m not sure.

Noticing your half fake doubt, he handled you the glass and encouraged you to try it. You put your lips on the straw and sip the liquid without taking your eyes off of his. He feels like you’re introducing him to your own night kingdom through your gaze, feels like he could give you not only parts of him, but a complete version. It’s a bit scary but also intriguing, stimulating.

“It’s good, refreshing exactly as you said.” You pushed the glass back to him.

“Since I gave you something to prove, can’t you offer me something I want as well?” he leans to you just a bit, you two are already very close.

“I’m not sure if I have something delicious for you”.

“You have your lips and a bit more if you feel like presenting it to me.”

Inseong:

Playing:  Monsta X - WHO DO U LOVE? ft. French Montana

You went out of the indoors part of the night club to take some fresh air in the balcony. It happened to not be as fresh as you expected, there were some people smoking there. You didn’t like the smell of cigarettes, but they looked so at peace while liberating smoke on the air that you stayed there observing. Your head was still spinning thanks to that damn cocktail you wanted to try.

In the meantime Inseong is inside the building having flashs of his girlfriend with another guy at each snap of fingers sound in the current song playing. He couldn’t say he was surprised by her cheating but he was sad. Now he had the face of her once myterious affair stuck on his mind. He ran out from her apartment right to the night club but it doesn’t look so appropriate to forget everything anymore. He needed fresh air.

You didn’t see him coming but felt someone leaning on the parapet next to you. He fulls his lungs with night air and you find it funny for some reason.

“The air is not pure here” you said discreetly but giggling.

He made an effort to smile at your drunk cute face. “You’re right. The pollution is a thing in this city.” He contampletes the view beyond the balcony.

“No. I’m not talking about this...” you tryied to explain.

“I know” he interrupted you and winked. “they look calm, i should try a cigarette too.”

“Are you nervous about something?” you didn’t refrain the urge to touch him, a really fine man.

“I was mad when I came here, I was upset just now, but now that you’re asking me, I don’t really know.” he answered feeling your hand on his shoulder blade.

“I’m so sorry. Can I help you?”

Inseong couldn’t help looking at your pretty lips.He said without thinking much “my girlfriend is cheating on me for months but I didn’t want to accept it until today.” he turns his body to you.

“Why don’t you cheat on her back?” you naturally ask in a way that you would never do if sober.

“Then would you be my cigarette in this balcony?”

Jaeyoon:

Jaeyoon:

Playing:  My Name (Feat. Talksick) - Jimmy Clash , DJ H.ONE

Everything about The guy you were dancing with screams that he was a lady-killer. his flawless hair styled to the side, the two open bottoms of his shirt, the collar dangling against his sweaty chest. But you were okay about being the lady losing her soul for that night. Just a night. He wasn’t an average lady-killer, he had that classy aura as he had been on magazine pages. Why not? Actually you wouldn’t search for his name on social media, you wouln’t even ask his name.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead taking some hair away from there with the gesture. He worried that you needed to drink something because it can get very hot in the middle of so many people. “Let’s take a break” he mouthed. 

You nodded and followed him, who opened a path in the crowd to the two of you pass through. You noticed his hands were soft and he held yours tight as he thought that you could escape from him. In fact, If you get lost from each other, you were not sure of how to find him again. Nothing was fixed up, you didn’t have any meeting point. 

And that was okay. Right?

Once you breathed out the crowd, he smashed a peck on you and said you two needed to rehydrate. You blinked surprised to the sound of his voice, being able to hear it clearly for the first time. It was actually sweet and pretty, he sounded like a singer. You were so silly feeling already enchanted by a cheap Romeo. You knew he was anything but cheap but you had to repeat it for you to not wait for him to ask for your phone number. You knew he wouldn’t.

“I need water. I’m really dry” you said.

You noticed that his hand is still holding yours when he shifted his hand position to tangle his fingers with yours and walk by your side towards the bar. Also, he looked very pleased to see you drinking from your bottle like you were in the desert for days. A trickle of water escaped from your lips as you drank, you felt it running down your throat going to find its fate between your breasts.

The handsome boy wiped your chin when you were done of drinking. He took a look at your cleavage but raised his eyes to your face in a second.

”Won’t you say your name?”