#the classic enemies to friends to even more enemies to lovers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

periprose · 1 month

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Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image.

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent.

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea.

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking.

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick.

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did.

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home.

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins.

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?”

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you.

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder.

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can��t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together.

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does.

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes.

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist.

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things.

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways.

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck.

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you.

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course.

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body.

“I said, how is that any different from before?”

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad.

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember).

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself.

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops.

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses.

You blink, tears rolling down your face.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room.

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day.

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders.

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.”

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world.

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain.

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does.

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out.

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his.

You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth.

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular.

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist.

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition.

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kiwi-bitchez · 1 year

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Like Magic

Eddie Munson x Reader, 18+ mdni

Summary: Incredibly troupey enemies to lovers smut. The gang takes a trip together and a game of never-have-I-ever creates a new tension between you and Eddie. The classic "no one has ever made me come'' situation. A bit overused, but it still gets me every time. Hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, drinking (all characters are 21+), kind of Asshole!Eddie but not really, fingering, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), Eddie has a dick piercing because I said so, piv sex, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl this is just fanfiction, Eddie has big dick energy in this one, I said what I said, rough-ish sex but Eddie's def more of a soft dom here, a few pet names (princess, mostly), spelling/grammar mistakes, corny ending

Word count: 14k (oof… got a little carried away with this one besties)

Steve said it would be a getaway. A trip dedicated equal parts to celebrating Nancy's first big article getting published and to cheer Steve up after having been dumped by his most recent situationship. The former was the initial reason to take the trip but after finding out about Jessica or Jamie or whatever her name was you had a feeling the latter was the true motivator. Either way, Steve had found a cheap cabin up by a lake and had pitched the trip as a fun way to "get in touch with wilderness." You had a feeling it was going to be more drinking and board games than hiking and fishing, but that was fine by you.

It was nice to put in for the time off from work and have something to look forward to. A week away with your friends. And Eddie. It's not that you didn't consider him a friend... well, you didn't. But it wasn't for lack of trying on your end. You'd use the term friendly acquaintance. A person with whom you share several close friends but for some reason refuses to be friendly to you- that kind of friendly acquaintance. Okay, maybe the word friendly was a bit of a stretch.

There was an odd tension between the two of you that you couldn't quite figure out. When Robin had introduced you to her friends from high school, all staying very close over the years, you immediately hit it off with them, easily integrating yourself into their quirky dynamic. Even though Eddie sort of stuck out like a sore thumb among them, you never treated him any differently than you did Steve or Nancy. You liked that their group was so mismashed. You had made it a point to not to turn your nose up at him for any reason, expecting he typically got that reaction from those who didn't know him. At first you actually found him to be quite charming.

There was just a certain coldness he had towards you that you found off putting. Knowing what little you did about him, entirely through Robin's introductory ramblings, you could understand why he might be wary of new people. It was that you had put in an effort to get to know him and be friendly that had upset you when he didn't return the sentiment. Not only did he treat you with a certain dry curtness, but he seemed so warm and loving to everyone else. He'd ruffle Robin's hair, bear hug Steve, share a cigarette with Nancy when she was especially stressed and tell some long winded story that had her cracking up and forgetting why she was ever tense in the first place. You didn't expect immediate closeness, but a little bit of that warmth from him would have been nice.

The awkward tension between the two of you manifested as joking jabs that hit a little too close, sarcastic remarks and rolled eyes. If he was going to go out of his way to push your buttons, you had no problem doing the same. It never ruined the energy when you'd all hang out as a group, but it was an underlying feeling you could't ever seem to ignore, as much as you'd tried. So this trip was going to be a celebration for Nancy, a distraction for Steve, and a challenge for you.

The cabin really was a great find to credit Steve. You had all pitched in a little money to cover the expenses and were pleasantly surprised when you found out there were actually enough beds for all of you, a half decent kitchen, hot water, nothing special but certainly nothing to complain about either. You had access to a small dock and a beat up canoe, a little fire pit out back, the basic necessities for a half decent vacation. That, supplemented with the box of booze Steve had lugged up from the car and all of your excitement to let loose was sure to make for a good trip, if not at least a memorable one.

You had all scoped out the digs, poking around the shed outside and unloading all your stuff from the cars. You felt somewhat settled in and ready to slip into vacation mode right as the sun began to set. Steve and Nancy had taken care of bringing groceries for the week, unpacking a week's worth of dry pasta and snacks into the dusty pantry. Steve took it upon himself to cook a small meal for everyone in the kitchen, nothing fancy but still appreciated given the minimal kitchen setup, always the mom of the group. Eddie messily makes himself a rum and coke, offering Robin one as well and blatantly ignoring your presence. Not that you wanted a stupid rum and coke from him anyways. He hands her the drink and you avoid eye contact and push past him to fix a drink for yourself, quickly shuffling off to check if Steve needed any help in the kitchen.

"Too many cooks in the kitchen, y/n," Steve places his hands on your shoulders and backs you out of the small space, "go relax, I think I can handle boiling pasta by myself."

You were mostly trying to avoid the living room where Nancy, Robin, and Eddie were all settled, but Steve was right, the kitchen was far too small for you to be taking up space while he tries to cook for five. With a sigh you make the short journey over to the couch, wedging yourself next to Robin and quietly sipping on your drink, making a mental note to make the next one stronger. You easily fall into conversation, listening to Robin tell some story about when she and Steve used to work at an ice cream shop years ago, some exaggerated memory she kept referring to as "mint-chocolate-chip-gate," easily pulling laughs from all of you.

Hours later, empty plates scattered around the small makeshift dining area, a few more drinks in your system, you had hardly thought about Eddie at all. You'd managed to avoid his snippy remarks for the majority of the evening, both relishing in the good feeling of the start of a week off. It was always when you felt the tension slip away that it came back harsher than ever. The five of you crowded around the small table, playing cards shuffled into a messy deck. Robin had started a never-have-I-ever game, although childish, still fun and silly as none of you took things too seriously.

"Never have I ever," she searches her brain for something riveting, "faked an orgasm."

You and Nancy give her a fake-annoyed glance and take sips from your cups, not a huge surprise on anyone's part.

"Not fair Rob," you say, looking up from your cup, "just because you only have sex with women doesn't mean you have to target those of us unfortunate enough to be attracted to men." You and Nancy laugh.

"Sounds like the unfortunate ones are the guys you're sleeping with," Eddie mumbles. You shoot daggers from your eyes at him, "I'm just saying, how can you expect it to be any good if you're not being honest."

"Fuck off," you roll your eyes, "I'm sure you've been on the receiving end of more than one faked orgasm, Munson, it's kind of a universal truth for all women."

"Well I don't know if I'd say that-" Nancy interjects, "universal truth is kind of a big claim."

"Never have I ever," Steve interrupts, clearly trying to change the conversation, "accidentally poured salt instead of sugar into my coffee while on a first date and was too embarrassed to say anything so I just drank the salty coffee and suffered in silence."

"Oh my god," you burst out, everyone giggling, "that was such a pointed attack! I'm never telling you anything ever again!" You take a sip from your drink, being the only person in the group who has experienced that oddly specific situation.

"If you all are going to target me with the knowledge of friendship then I'm coming for all of your asses," you set down your drink and try to think of something that will surely get them to all drink, "Aha! I know, never have I ever had an orgasm during sex with a partner." Your mind was sort of still in the gutter from Robin's statement, and you knew for sure you'd get them all with this one, you knew that you were in a slim minority with that fact. It wasn't that you choose bad partners, well, that was sometimes part of it, but you just couldn't get to that place when someone else was doing it to you, only ever by yourself. You just figured it was a slight abnormality, and had resigned to a life of solo play and half decent but never truly fulfilling sexual encounters.

Steve groans, annoyed you brought the conversation back to the sexual topics he had previously steered the group away from, taking a drink alongside everyone else.

"Ha!" you gloat while everyone takes their long sips, "knew I'd get you all there. Keep trying to come for me with my oddly specific embarrassing stories and you'll all be sorry in the morning."

"I don't really think having a shit sex life is anything to brag about, y/n," Eddie snips at you.

"I'm not bragging, it's the whole point of the game to get people to drink, stupid," you shoot back, starting to regret revealing that level of personal information to him.

"Well maybe if you weren't so busy faking your orgasms you'd actually chill out for long enough to actually have one," he hurls back, the thick tension settling between the two of you.

"Jesus, Eddie, mind your own fucking business," you feel blood rushing to your face and your jaw tenses up.

"You were the one who brought it up, sweetheart," you hated how calm his voice still was, raising his hands up in fake defense, "never have I ever NOT made my partner come."

"Oh fuck off," your voice was seething, "you can't say that. There's, like, no definitive way to prove that's even true!"

"No, I'm pretty sure I know it's true," he was so fucking smug and it annoyed you to no end.

"OKAY," Steve breaks the awkward silence that had settled around the rest of the group, "I want to play cards, what do we think? Cards? Anyone?"

'Yeah, whatever,'' you felt bad if you had accidentally ruined the fun everyone was having, but it wasn't your fault Eddie decided to be such a dick about it. You help Steve shuffle the cards and start dealing, letting the heated energy dissipate around you as you wiggled your way back into normal conversation with everyone.

Several rounds of cards and a few drinks later the night took hold of the group and sent Nancy off to bed, Robin off to search for some advil that she knew she'd be grateful for in the morning, and Steve mostly asleep slumped in his chair at the table. You gently shook him awake and he grumbled a thank you and a goodnight as he dragged his body down the hall to his bed. This left you and Eddie with a half decent mess between the drinks, the aftermath of dinner, and the cards. He had started to gather the cards back into their deck while you debated on taking care of the dishes or putting it off until morning, ultimately deciding that tomorrow-you would be very thankful if tonight-you sucked it up and just cleaned up now.

"I got the rest," you start picking up everyones mostly empty cups and moving into the kitchen to tackle the mountain of dishes. Jeez Steve, how many pots does it take to boil pasta for five people? "Night, see you tomorrow," you say without turning back to look at Eddie.

He came up next to you and grabbed the dry towel off the counter, taking the soapy cup from your hand and wiping it away before stacking it on a clear part of the countertop.

"You wash, I'll dry, yeah?" he's already moved onto the next plate you had sponged down.

"It's really fine Eddie, I've got it," you appreciate the sentiment, but didn't like feeling so cramped standing with him in the small kitchen.

"I have manners, you know," he makes a harsh gesture to the dishes, urging you to get on with washing, which you do, "plus I'm not gonna let you take all the credit for cleaning up after everyone, you aren't anyone's mother or maid here."

You weren't really sure how to take that, but decided to ignore it as you continued to scrub away, silently handing him the dripping dishes as you finished cleaning them.

"I know you don't really care for me," you start, feeling the need to fill the awkward silence between you, "but can we please not make Steve and them regret inviting us both? Like, I know you're capable of being civil. I just really don't want to spend this whole trip walking on eggshells worrying that we're ruining the fun. So, this is me apologizing for anything I do this upcoming week that pisses you off for whatever reason, just know I didn't do it on purpose, and it's not worth freaking out over. I'm just trying to have a good time here, that's all."

You really couldn't tell if you felt relieved or more anxious after saying all that to him. You meant it. You really didn't want to drag any unnecessarily tense baggage around with you while everyone was just trying to enjoy their trip. You wanted him to know this, at least to feel like the blame was off your back if he was a dick to you, at least you tried to clear the air on night one.

"What? Still got your panties in a bunch over that game?" you didn't have to look over at him to hear the smirk in his voice, "Because I remember you were the one getting all in a huff about it."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," you turn over sharply to look at him, "please just stop being such an asshole to me."

"Learn to take a joke, sweetheart," he had been drying the same mug for a little too long now, "that stick up your ass is probably the reason you can't reach the big O."

"Please, for the love of god, fuck off," you tried to not raise your voice too much given everyone's sleeping state, "What do you want me to say? Hmmm? 'Oh Eddie, I'm so jealous of all those girls you make come with your magical guitar fingers, oooooooooh, please pick me'." You roll your eyes and prepare to storm off to bed when his whole posture shifts in front of you.

"Magical guitar fingers? Hmmm?" he's really making you regret saying that, even sarcastically, you start putting the rags away, wanting to just finish up the dishes and get the fuck out of the kitchen. "You said it babe, not me."

"You're so insufferable," you bring your fingers to your temple, Eddie Muson manifesting as a special form of personal headache.

"This is exactly what I'm saying," he mockingly gestures to you, "you're the one always getting so worked up over nothing, I'm as cool as a cucumber, I think the problem might be you."

"Is everything a fucking joke to you? Can you really not be serious for three fucking seconds while I try to be straight with you about us getting along on this trip?" Your grip on the dish towel tightening.

"Me? Joking? About something so serious and romantic as having precious y/n her first orgasm with my 'magical guitar fingers' that she so obviously fantasizes about? I would never." He clasps his hands across his chest, always the fucking jester.

In a moment of white hot rage, and wanting to put him in his place, and only a tiny fraction fueled by your physical attraction to him, as much as you've tried to fight that off, you march the three steps in between the two of you and grab his wrist in your hand, holding his hand up in between the two of you.

'Fine, do it then," you maintain harsh eye contact with him, your faces only a few inches apart, "you won't. Better yet, I don't even think you could."

For the first time, you felt as if you had the upper hand, you had never rendered him speechless before. He always had some snippy comeback to everything you said, at a rapid fire pace that was honestly impressive given how subtly clever his remarks were.

"You wanna bet?" He cocks his head at you, trailing behind just a beat slower than he normally would.

You just raise your eyebrows and glance down at his hand, still in your grasp, lips pursed and voice secretly caught in your throat.

"You just say the word," he starts, voice slightly softening, "and I bet you that I can make you come using just this hand- scratch that, just these three fingers," he lowers his pointer and pinky, leaving his middle two and thumb sticking up, "in less than five minutes right here in this goddamn kitchen."

"Yeah, for what?" were you seriously considering this? Why were your thighs clenching together?

"I make you come, and not only do I get to live in your memory forever as the first idiot who had the sense to make you finish, but you're gonna be so sweet to me the rest of the trip. Make my drinks, fetch my lighter, roll all my joints with those cute little dexterous fingers of yours, be nothing but pleasant and lovely without the slightest hint of attitude." His words made you fume, but you were also inexplicably turned on, his breath fanning across your face as he spoke sending tingles down your spine.

"And when you can't, what then?" you tried to match his level of composure, but the gleam in his eye told you that he saw straight through your facade.

"If-" he starts, "you manage to hold out on me and I can't get that pretty pussy of yours to gush all over my super magical talented guitar fingers, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the trip. We never bring it up again, or you can tease me about it for the rest of our lives, totally up to you. But I'll be so civil and polite you'll hardly recognize me the rest of this trip."

You let your grasp fall from his wrist, holding your unsteady hand out to him to shake, "Deal."

He truly thought you were bluffing up until this point. When you had first met he had been impressed with how sharp you were, how you managed to meet his level of sarcasm so easily. At least he thought you had been sarcastic, after a few fumbled interactions he got the vibe that you weren't joking around with him in the jabby-playful way he was. If he was honest wit himself, he knew he sort of used this as a defense mechanism when meeting new people. Put up the walls and if they didn't like him, that was just fine.

The tension in the air was as thick as it had ever been between the two of you. You refused to break eye contact, refused to let him win. As much as you'd like to think this would be an easy way to put an end to his snarky attitude, there was no denying that a large part of you was excited, if not intrigued at the prospect of him touching you like that. Eddie was hot, you had never denied that. But the butterflies in your stomach and slight buckle of your knees indicated a little bit more than surface level attraction.

Breaking the handshake he takes a few purposeful steps forward, backing you against the nearest counter. He places a hand on either side of your body, caging you in, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear, voice low and raspy.

"We doing this, babe? You say the word and I'll let it go now, but otherwise I'm gonna need you to unbutton those cute jeans for me."

There was no way in hell you were turning back at this point. You try to give him your best 'fuck you' expression and say, "Can't even unbutton my pants, how the hell are you gonna make me come?" Regardless, you follow his request and unbutton your pants, and better yet, slip them down your legs to let them pool at your feet.

You were still locked in between his arms against the counter, closer than you had ever been to him. As your pants hit the floor, you notice his gaze flicker down to get a look at you, then quickly back up to your face. All the while he had shifted over slightly, arm now fiddling with a dial on the stovetop. He was setting a timer, cocky bastard. He adjusts the stovetop cook timer to five minutes and casually hits the enter button, as if he had nothing to prove, as if the few extra seconds meant nothing to him.

He brings his attention back to you, knowing you were fully aware of the timer he had just set. Rather than plunging his hand straight into your already dampening underwear, his first move was surprisingly to bend down slightly and cup the backside of your knee, lifting one foot out of the pant leg that was scrunched around your ankles. From the crook of your knee, his hand slowly moved up your thigh, giving it a squeeze, acting as if he wasn't on any sort of time constraint. As promised, once he reaches your underwear he only uses one of the three promised fingers, running the tip of his middle digit along the top elastic of your panties, quirking an eyebrow, looking at you for one last assurance of consent before the two of you crossed the line. You give him a curt nod, knowing what his questioning glance meant, and with that he dips his hand into your simple cotton underwear.

Once again, you almost expected him to just shove his fingers inside of you and get on with it, but he took several long moments to run his middle two fingers up and down your slit, never entering your hole, but collecting some of your wetness and dragging it up to massage the hood of your clit gently. You wouldn't have been surprised if the oven timer went off at any given moment. It felt like he had been touching you for far longer than five minutes, despite only forty seconds having been passed. He continued to gently roll your clit between his fingers, placing one on either side of your bud and just letting them slowly massage it back and forth.

You were slowly losing control of your composure. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction, but a shallow gasp that you were sure he noticed escaped you. You mentally prepared yourself for a comment from him, a chuckle or signature smirk. Eddie never shut the fuck up, you wouldn't have been surprised if that was true in the bedroom too, or in this case, the kitchen. What did surprise you was the breathy "Good girl, that's it" he mumbled into the side of your face as he increased the pressure of his fingers ever so slightly, "just like that, relax for me, doing so well."

Fuck.

Your body responded to his words before your mind could make the conscious decision to, and you melted back into the countertop slightly with an exhale. His foot wedged in between your legs slowly slid them open a bit more, letting his ripped denim clad leg settle in between yours, his hand sinking a bit lower and slowly entering you with just his middle finger. The hand that wasn't occupied with your pussy gently came down to toy with the band of your still-on underwear, gently tugging them down as he managed to slip his second finger into you.

"That's it," he began to curl them ever so slightly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him, "your pussy's so pretty, so good, sucking my fingers right in."

His two middle fingers were sunk all the way into you, and he was moving them in a way that had you involuntarily drop your jaw and let shallow whimpers out with every roll and thrust. This was entirely different than anything you had ever experienced before. Up until now, 'getting fingered' for you was an annoyingly uncomfortably forplay where your partner would shove a hand in and out too fast just to make sure you were wet enough to proceed with the act. Eddie wasn't even bringing his fingers out of you, he settled them in and wiggled them around until he noticed your breath catch, and just let them push into this spot that you didn't know you had. Your own fingers never could reach that deep and his were filling you perfectly, thumb toying with your clit, not too hard, but just enough to add to the sensation. Damn, he was good at this.

When his fingers finally hit that new spot inside you your body reacted with a subtle roll forward of your hips and your head fell back to rest against the cabinets, eyes fluttering shut on their own accord. "Mmm, there it is," his voice was still gentle against your ear as he continued to make you gasp and squirm, "anyone ever find this pretty little spot inside you before?" He let his fingers slide all the way out of you, spreading some wetness from your hole up to your clit with a few circular motions before sinking back down inside you.

You were biting the inside of your lip, no longer trying to hide your reactions from him, but trying to keep them quiet enough to not wake anyone in the cabin up. You wouldn't dare answer his questions out loud in your state, but you give him a quick shake of your head to indicate that, no, no one had ever touched you quite like this before.

"Such a fucking shame," he increased the pressure on your clit, not increasing speed at all, but just curling his fingers a little harder, swirling his thumb a bit more deliberately, "bet you'd make such gorgeous noises for me too, can't have anyone wake up and find us like this though, yeah? Those pretty little whimpers are for me only."

Why were his words doing more to you than his hands? Not that you had any complaints about the care and attention he was giving your center, but his face pressed so close to you, letting out sweeter words than you had ever heard from him, that was what was making your walls tighten around his two fingers. Your mind had completely slipped away from the timer, no longer questioning whether you had three seconds or three minutes left, all you could do was feel.

There was a soft squelching coming from where his hand made contact with your pussy, wetness coating his fingers and spreading to your thighs with each of his shallow thrusts. While you would typically feel a little embarassed, hearing your own arousal only turned you on more, that along with Eddie's soft "mmmm, that's it" and "good fucking girl."

You were starting to feel it, that familiar tightening. Familiar, but so different from when you got yourself there. It was the difference of jumping into water versus being pushed in. When you jump in yourself, you have time to build up the courage and the cold water is less of a surprise and more of an inevitability. This was as if someone had thrown you over their shoulder and could fling you in at any moment, entirely out of your control. You feel your head start to spin, your walls start to tighten.

Before you could let the tightening band in your lower half snap, any thought of purposely holding back and trying to not come for the sake of the bet was far gone, he takes his unoccupied hand and harshly tugs on your chin. Your head had started to roll back, pressing against the cabinets for support, eyes fluttering shut as you almost reached your peak. You were jolted back to reality as he cups your jaw and forces your head to stay upright.

"Eyes open," your impending orgasm teetering right on the edge, you would do anything he said in this moment, "you're going to keep your eyes open and look at me while I make you come." His words with a few more expert swipes of his thumb against your throbbing clit had you gasping for air. It was truly unlike any orgasm you had ever experienced.

You tried your best to follow his directions, keeping your eyes as open as you could, maintaining eye contact with him through your high as your mouth dropped open and your moans caught in your throat, silently shaking and thriving as the tension in your body eased out in waves of pleasure. His gaze burned into you, fingers keeping such a steady and consistent pace as you rode out your peak. Mumbled phrases escaped him and only made your orgasm last that much longer. Why the fuck was Eddie Munson calling you "pretty girl" making your legs shake? This shouldn't be happening. That had never been a turn on before, none the less coming from a man you typically found insufferable.

With the last pulse of your walls you found yourself acting on pure adrenaline, you completely blame the endorphins for your next action. His hand was still firmly planted on the side of your head and your thoughts were spinning so fast, you had to ground yourself, and your body decided that lurching forward and kissing Eddie was how you were going to do that. Fingers still slowly rolling inside of you, thumb now coming to rest on your overstimulated clit, he was taken aback by your action, but leaned into the kiss and swiped his wet tongue through your bitten swollen lips as you melted into him. As soon as you felt fully entangled in him, completely consumed by his hands, mouth, scraggly hair, all of him. You jerked back, quickly apologizing, "Fuck, uh, sorry, I-"

He slowly drags his hand out of your drenched thighs as you try to find words, bringing his two fingers up between his lips to suck them clean. You wanted to moan out at the sight but were still scrambling to figure out what the fuck just happened. He casually leans over and pauses the oven timer with a beep.

"Hey, 4:20, nice!" you roll your eyes at his immature comment, "we have forty more seconds on the clock, wanna go again?" he jokes.

You were so far beyond caring about this bet, you had way bigger issues to tackle than having to wait hand and foot on Eddie for the rest of this trip. You awkwardly pull up your wet panties and readjust your pants around your legs, not sure what to do or say.

"Was that good? Better than when you do it yourself?" he asks, sarcasm indetectable in his voice but you were sure it had to be there.

"Do you actually care to know or do you just want to hear me say it? Fine Eddie, you win. You have magical sex fingers and made me come in like three minutes, congratulations. It was great, the best orgasm of my life. You were right, you told me so."

"Well that's great to hear and all but I wasn't looking for an ego boost or anything, babe," his tone was lighthearted and you weren't expecting it, "I just know it's like wayyyy different for me when its my hand versus another person, not to mention the difference between all the holes and whatnot."

"Gross!" you laugh and scrunch up your nose, not noticing how he was pouring you a glass of water.

"I'm just saying!" He holds his hands up defensively as he silently hands the cup to you, "I've never experienced a female orgasm so I just wanted to know if it was any different than when you use the showerhead."

"Oh my god I-" you start, in between gulps of water.

"Oh, don't even start," he cuts you off, "we both know that all girls do that, don't try and be all shy with me now babe, I know what your 'oh' face looks like."

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks and you bury your gaze down into your almost empty glass of water. "Yeah Eddie, it was different and it was better. Your fingers rank higher than the jet setting of my shower head, do you want a trophy?" This sort of banter usually had a sharper edge to it between you, but there was a new softness and humor to the way you communicated. Maybe he was just being nice because he felt bad for you, because you were so desperate that you came from three fingers on a kitchen counter in less time than most top forty radio hits.

"I'm glad it was good for you," he says, almost sincerely, "night sweetheart." With that he turned around and exited the kitchen, keeping his composure all the way down the hall until he could burst into his room, rid himself of his clothes, and pull his cock at the thought of how you felt wrapped around his fingers, the little whimpers and noises you made, how you looked right at him as you came, how you kissed him afterwards.

You were left somewhat dumbfounded, standing in the middle of the kitchen with an empty cup in your hands, looking around as if something else was going to happen. You weren’t expecting him to invite you back to his bed for a cuddle or anything like that, but you had just experienced the most earth shattering orgasm of your life followed up by some joking conversation and a friendly cup of water? It just didn't feel right. Then again, who the fuck has their first orgasm from someone else while being timed.

You didn't regret it though. You actually felt a sense of relief. While you were pretty aware that your past sexual partners had been a bit selfish or underwhelming, a part of you had always wondered if that part of you was broken. If there was a part of your brain that would never let you reach that vulnerable state at the hands of someone else. That you would only ever trust yourself to let go and feel that kind of pleasure. Nope. Not broken. Definitely not broken.

You feel like you're in a trance as you walk back to your room, shower, slip into pajamas and drift off to sleep. You started to wonder how the energy would be between you and Eddie in the morning, but as soon as you gave it any thought your brain decided it was time to shut down. You'd deal with it when it happened.

Your head still felt cloudy the next morning, processing the sexual high and confusing social situation you now found yourself in. You knew one thing for sure, you'd never be able to look at Eddie again without thinking about last night. Suddenly the thought of him playing guitar, shuffling a deck of cards, smoking a joint, all felt inherently sexual to you despite never having that connotation before. You were fucked.

What's even worse is when you tried to rub one out in the shower to ease some of your nerves before going downstairs for coffee all you could think of was comparing how your hand felt to Eddie's. It's like he put a stupid curse on you, that all your orgasms would now feel half hearted. It's like you were hungry and were served a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when you could smell a chef preparing a five star meal in the room over. Sure, a PB&J is fine, but now that you've had fine dining it just didn't quite cut it. On top of that your newly corrupted brain couldn't help but theorize about what else Eddie was capable of. He made you come in basically four minutes with three fingers. As soon as you let your mind wander you pull yourself out of it, make the shower as cold as your body can stand, and gear up to face the music, or at least put on an awkward front in front of all of your friends.

You were the first person in the kitchen, but you heard a fair amount of shuffling going on around the creaky cabin so you suspect your friends will be down soon. You take it upon yourself to put on a full pot of coffee and survey the pantry for breakfast options.

"Morning, y/n," Steve greets you passively, eyes clearly set on the coffee that's almost done brewing.

"Oh wow, did you do the dishes last night?" Nancy inquires, her and Robin taking their places at the table while everyone waits for the coffee to finish.

"Oh yeah, it was nothing. Eddie and I did it, only took like five minutes," you wince at yourself.

"Were the two of you up real late?" Steve questions, "I tried to get him up a minute ago but he was knocked out."

"Oh," you start, relying on pouring coffee to everyone as an excuse to not make any eye contact, "I'm not really sure, we were only really up for like ten, twenty minutes after you all went to bed. Maybe he stayed up late in his room." None of it was a lie.

"Whatever, let him sleep this beautiful day away," Steve's whole demeanor changed after a single sip of caffeine, "I say we go down to the dock and check out that canoe, maybe have lunch on the dock? Could be nice."

A murmur of agreement among the group settled the plans for the day, relaxing by the lake, doing exactly what you had intended this trip to be about. You all scarfed down quick breakfast and coffee and separated to change into swimwear. You hated that you thought of Eddie as you picked out your swimsuit. Did he even see you like that? When he called you pretty last night, was that all part of an act to win some stupid bet? You'd be better off assuming so, you decide, you don't want to get wrapped up in your own thoughts about how he thinks of you only to be totally wrong. But you secretly did hope that he'd check you out at least once.

You sprawled out on a big towel on the rickety dock, letting Robin, Nance, and Steve figure out the canoe. It didn't look like it could comfortably for more than two, and three was pushing it, so you decided to sit this one out considering the lake water looked a little murky. You set yourself up comfortably with a glass of lemonade and a book you were halfway through, letting the sun sink into your skin and illuminate the pages as you squinted at the words through the sunshine. You could hear their friendly bickering off in the distance, their canoe now a tiny speck off on the horizon of the lake. You could occasionally hear Robin shriek as Steve threatened to tip them all over.

You felt the dock creek behind you before he said anything, not bothering to turn around from your comfortable position, knowing it couldn't be anyone but Eddie. He made his way down to your towel, inviting himself to plop down next to you and dip his toes into the lake below. He was only in his boxers and a ratty tshirt, a mostly full cup of black coffee sloshing around in the mug he held.

He made you nervous, not sure what the energy would be like between the two of you now. You almost felt worried that nothing would have changed at all. You ignored the buzzing in your abdomen and kept your eyes on your book as he kicked up the lakewater and sipped his coffee next to you, seeming comfortable in your mutual silence.

“Reading anything good?” you knew he’d be the one to break the silence, ever the chatty Cathy. You were surprised at the genuine question rather than a smart remark or joke at your expense.

You told him what you thought of your current read, filling him in a bit on the general plot. Part of you decided that you no longer had the right to give him the edge you usually did. He had won the upper hand fair and square and you were willing to accept that. You could play nice, play by his rules.

You felt like your conversation was going well, or well enough. He asked to see your book, which you willfully handed over. You’d regret doing that. He dog-eared the page you were on and quickly set your book off to the back of the deck before moving at lightning speed and scooping you up and hurling you through the air and into the lake water. What the actual fuck was his problem.

Before you could even register the cold lake water you emerge from your splash and gasp for air. You don’t even have a moment to find where the dock is to cuss him out before you see his cannonballed form fly above you and crash into the lake next to you. His shirt and coffee were abandoned with your book and he emerged from the water with that stupid goofy smile.

That stupid goofy smile that made you less mad that he had thrown you in the lake. What was wrong with you? You should be pissed. Why did his annoying antics suddenly make you feel giggly? You knew exactly why, but wouldn't allow yourself to think about it for longer than a moment.

“Eddie you bitch!” you splash him as soon as you can locate him and that stupid smile. You couldn’t help but smile too. He knew you wouldn’t stay mad. The two of you play-wrestle for a moment, splashing each other and taking turns pushing the other under the lake’s surface.

“I was reading,” you continue to protest.

“And now you’re swimming!” He splashes you again, “We’re on a lake trip, y/n, not a library trip.”

You debated swimming out to where the canoe was, but mutually decided that sounded like too much work. Instead you took turns jumping off the dock and diving down to the bottom of the lake for rocks and other random junk. Eddie even found an old boat anchor.

Once the other three came in from their canoe adventure you all ate packed sandwiches for lunch in the sunshine on the dock. You couldn’t help but take in the moment, knowing you'd be nostalgic for it in the future. You were surrounded by some of your best friends without a care in the world, only focused on pb&j sandwiches and who was going to make the fire later.

After a backyard bonfire and several failed attempts at roasting hot dogs on sticks you all started to slow down and let the day in the sun take you to bed. You showered the feeling of lakewater off your skin and out of your hair with lots of soap and as hot of water as the cabin would allow. You thought you’d cozy up in bed and read some more of your book, or even crash right to sleep, but a nagging feeling kept pulling at you.

As sleepy as you wanted to be, and as interesting as your book was, your mind couldn’t pull itself away from the idea of what Eddie was doing down the hall. It was late enough that the others were probably asleep, you probably should be too. After rereading the same sentence four times you decided to abandon your book and just follow your curiosities.

Before your better judgment could stop you, you lightly knocked at Eddie’s door and cracked it open. You peek around the sturdy wooden door to see him propped up on the headboard, shirtless with a giant book in his lap. His lean chest and arms were littered with random tattoos, nothing you hadn't seen before swimming or when he wore those unbuttoned and ripped up shirts that he often did, but this time you couldn't help but stare at them.

“Sure just come right in,” he comments with a joking tone as you peek around the corner of his door.

“Sorry, sorry,” you half whisper through gritted teeth, “I just-”

You didn’t know how to finish that statement. You just what? Were curious about what he was doing? Wanted to see him? Wanted to know what he would say if you came to his room?

To your surprise he shifts to the side of his bed and opens a space next to him, lifting the sheet that covers his lower half and patting the space next to him. Your eyes widened in surprise a bit before you moved a bit too enthusiastically across the room and settled onto the mattress next to him.

“Hope I’m not bothering you,” you start, genuinely feeling bad if you were intruding.

“You? Not at all. I’ve only read The Lord of the Rings eighty times or so,” he turns over the enormous book in his lap.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could read,” you immediately felt bad, but knew your tone was joking enough to be permissible.

“Very funny,” he sets the book on his nightside table, turning his attention to you. You suddenly felt a spotlight on you, a sudden stage to explain the reason you showed up in his room. Truthfully you didn’t have one. Or, you didn’t have the words to tell him why.

“I-” you start, noticing how small your voice sounded, “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Is that so?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, I just-” you still don’t know where you’re going with this, “I just wanted to apologize if I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t like you. I know we kind of go back and forth a lot, but I never really meant to make you feel like I dislike being around you. I just want to start over with you, if that’s okay?”

“Is this because you know all the rumors about my magic guitar fingers are true,” he smirked and leaned his head into yours, an action that would typically make your blood boil that you now found endearing.

“No- well yes- but no,” you couldn’t help but be flustered, finding yourself fidgeting with the hem of his sheet that you had tucked your feet under, knees pushed up against your chest, “I just thought that things were going to be really awkward between us today, or that you were going to be a huge asshole to me. But I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been fair to you, and maybe you weren’t fair to me either, so it would be nice to start over?”

“Do you want to start over right now, or do you want to start over, including last night?” He already knew that even if the two of you ‘started over’ neither of you could forget, or even pretend to forget what had transpired in the kitchen. You let out a sigh. You were thinking the same thing.

“Up to yout,” you look up at him through your lashes, “I’ll leave and never bring it up again, but I can't pretend like I haven’t been thinking about it since it happened.”

“Is that so?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Shut up, you know it is,” you bump his shoulder with yours.

“Is it because you touched yourself and realized it didn’t feel the same?” his voice grew deeper, and you could feel his gaze pressing into the side of your face, “or because you imagined it was my fingers between those pretty legs of yours.”

You couldn’t help your head from falling back against his headboard and eyes to find solace in the ceiling before gathering the courage to answer him. His face was already inches from your neck, all you needed to do was close the gap, but a part of you was still worried.

You look tentatively into his eyes, big and brown and drawing you in, but you don't let yourself lean in all the way. You had initiated the first kiss between you two last night in the kitchen and had been shaken with worry that you had crossed a line. You didn't want to embarrass yourself again, so you held back. What if he thought that was too intimate? You hoped he didn't. Even though it had left you tense and anxious, kissing him was just as memorable as the orgasm he had given you. You remembered how his mouth tasted, how he slipped his tongue past your lips immediately, how you didn't have to think about anything other than how he was making you feel.

Eddie, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were thinking. He knew that he'd left you a bit high and dry last night. If he was being honest, he wanted to stay in that kitchen and kiss you over and over, offering to take you to bed, his bed. He left for two reasons: he wanted to maintain whatever aura of mystery and intrigue he had garnered by making you feel so good, the tensions were high and it felt right to keep the game up, Eddie enjoyed the cat and mouse, back and forth that the two of you had, and this had taken it to an incredibly fun and elevated state, and he had to leave to release his cock from the confines of his pants. If he was going to fuck you, he was going to fuck you right, and if you had stayed in that kitchen any longer he would have either busted in his pants or promptly three seconds after you made any sort of move on him.

He knew you were nervous. That you found him hard to read and unpredictable. That's probably why the two of you never really got along, and he knew it. He knew that the orgasm he gave you was the most pleasure you had ever felt, and that you hadn't stopped thinking about it for a moment since. It was written all over your face. He couldn't blame you. If he had never had the pleasure of climaxing during sex or at the hands of another person he surely would be in a spell over it too. He knew you needed to be taken care of, and that he had proved himself to be trustworthy of doing so.

While you were caught in your own head debating whether Eddie would kiss you or not, it only takes him a split second to crane his neck around to meet your face and catch your lips in a kiss backed by purpose and intent. He knew how to read your body language. Eddie grew up worrying what everyone around him was thinking of him, or what they were planning to do to him/ He knew how to tell when someone was angry or upset or disgusted. An arch of an eyebrow or a twitch of a hand could mean the smallest things, things that always came back to bite Eddie. He also could tell that your breath was caught in your throat and you were overthinking still, he knew to let the kiss linger for a moment and let you find your footing before deepening it.

The moment he feels your shoulders relax a bit and your head lean ever so slightly into his, he cups the sides of your neck with his hands. Those hands. Littered with tiny stick and poke tattoos and those clunky metal rings. Who the fuck wears jewelry to bed? You had taken note of how his rings had felt shoved down the front of your underwear the night prior, and now you relished in how the distinct metal felt against the soft skin under your jaw.

Last night you kissed him in the heat of the moment. Now he was kissing you. Really kissing you. Tugging on your bottom lip and running his tongue across yours until your stomach felt like you were on the dip of a roller coaster. Kissing you until you were breathless and your cheeks began to run hot, until you couldn't tell whose tongue was whose, or could hardly remember where you were or what time it was. You would have traded every sexual experience you'd had for what he did to you in the kitchen last night, and you'd trade every kiss up until now for the one you found yourself in.

His hands were in your hair, and his lips moved from yours, now wet and pouty, down to your neck. He kissed, licked, nipped, sucked against your skin, gently tugging your hair in the direction he wanted to open your neck up for him. When his bottom teeth dragged across a particular spot in between your jaw and ear a soft moan escaped your lips. You immediately sucked in a sharp breath.

"MmmHmmm," he mumbles into you, still attacking that spot that had elicited the noise, "let me hear you."

You let out a groan and moved to straighten your neck, wanting his mouth on yours again. The hand in your hair kapt you exactly where he wanted though, now using a touch more force.

"You wanna know a secret?" the hand not in your hair ran up and down your rib cage underneath your shirt, trailing from the band of your pants up to the underside of your breast and then gently back down, "Do you know what you do to me?"

"Mmmm, no what?" you could hardly recognize your own voice, now pitched up and airy.

"Those pretty noises you made for me, and the thought of you wrapped around my fingers has been driving me crazy all day, y/n. Do you know what I thought about while I jerked off last night? Those moans, and that pretty cunt you have, and the gorgeous face you made when I got you there. It's all I can see when I look at you now. It made me come so fucking hard last night and it's gonna take a lot of time and illegal substances to make me forget it."

You wiggled your hips up into his touch, wanting him to move faster but knowing he was going to take everything at his pace whether you liked it or not. "Fuck Eddie," he sucked on your earlobe and continued to bite against your soft skin, "you think I'm pretty?" You sounded fucking pathetic, you wouldn't have caught yourself dead asking any boy that, let alone Eddie before tonight.

"Pretty? I think those little moans you make are pretty. And that cunt you have, prettiest I've ever seen. That little bikini you had on today, that was pretty too. You wear that for me?"

"Maybe," you gasp out as his hand dared to venture lower, still over your pajama pants but dipping up and down where he knew your wet slit was.

"Sure, lots of things about you are plenty pretty, but fuck," he loved how responsive you were, already rolling your hips against his hand despite the layers of fabric preventing you from getting what you really wanted, "You? you really are somethin' else."

He could tell you were tired of his teasing, so in between kisses he tugs your shirt up and lets you pull it over your head. He presses your warm skin against his, using all his strength to stay in the moment and feel how nice your tits feel squished up against him, rather than immediately ravish you. He'll get to that, he knows you deserve his patience.

“Just-” you gathered your thoughts, “tell me you want me too, that this isn’t some sort of power trip or pity fuck. I don’t want it if this is some game to you.”

His heart sank a bit at your inquiry, worried that you thought of last night as some sort of power trip for him, although that was what the two of you had framed it as, a power play. He knew there was something deeper and hoped you had felt that too.

“Of course I want you. As much as it was nice to put you in your place, you brat, I didn't make you come to prove anything. I made you come because I wanted to.”

“Will you do it again?” your voice was barely a wiper, your neck craning around to meet his intense gaze.

“Again with my fingers,” he shifted so you were now slumped beneath him, his leg slotting comfortably between yours and his hands coming to cup your cheeks, shoulders angled above yours and hair creating a perfect curtain around your faces, “and my tongue, and my cock,” he leaned down to kiss you, “and all the other ways you’ll let me show you.”

You were a mess. A puddle of arousal and swarming thoughts of nothing but Eddie. Your hands flew up to tangle themselves in his beautiful curls, massaging the nape of his strong neck. The most passionate and enthusiastic kiss you had ever participated in. You were on fire for him. Any former doubt or worry that the actions of last night had on you dissipated into the air along with the breathy moans you couldn’t help but let out in between kisses and touches.

His knee pushed your thighs apart and you willingly splayed yourself out like a ragdoll for him to move and manipulate under him however he pleased. Before you could focus on his hands dipping into your underwear, he bit at your lower lip and pulled back, causing you to crane your neck and chase after his lips as he moved away. You were about to pout about the loss of contact, but his fingers dipping through your wet folds were plenty distracting. He sits back a bit to focus on pulling down your pants and underwear while still stroking you with his opposite hand.

You were too busy squirming under him, both from his slow methodical fingers against your cunt and a half hearted attempt to kick off your garments that were now pushed around your knees to notice his unwavering gaze that raked over your newly exposed body. His resolve was about to break, along with the dam that held back his desire and excitement to feel every inch of you, to make you feel good, to be the first person to make you feel good. He had always thought you were gorgeous, but picking fights is a lot easier than trying to flirt so he settled for riling you up the only way he thought he could.

He swats backwards to assist you in removing your final articles of clothing which are caught on your ankles, and as he leans back forward into you he sinks two thick fingers into you with a smirk on his face. It was a sudden stretch, but you'd be lying if you said you weren’t wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance. Your eyes want to squeeze shut, but you can't help but keep your sight locked on the shit eating grin that spreads across Eddie's face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He had made you fall apart in just over four minutes last night, and now he was going to take his time and have his fun with you. How could he not? You were so responsive to him, whimpering and writhing with every small movement, muscles tensing and your perfect lips parting open every time he curled his fingers upwards or brushed your clit with his palm.

He swoops down to give your tits some attention, and you let yourself tangle your fingers into his unruly curls. Between licks and nips he mumbles into your skin, "so fuckin' perfect" and "doing so good for me." He can feel your walls squeezing his fingers, soaking his palm, so he slows his roll a bit, wanting to draw you out a bit longer. You wanted to pull him up for a kiss, but he was deeply concentrating on sucking the perfect purple hickey to the underside of your breast. You could have sworn you heard "mine" come out of his mouth in between sucks and heavy breathing, but you couldn't be sure.

Once he released your skin with a wet pop, you tugged at his hair to beg for a kiss. Eddie liked you all whiney and desperate for him though, so he just lets you tug on his hair as hard a you want as he continues moving down your body, teeth dragging across your ribcage, his hot flat tongue licking a stripe across your hip bone just before blowing a stream of cool air across the new wet trail. All the while his fingers slowly rolled inside of you, making this delicious wiggling motion that had you feeling full and seeing stars.

He pulls his fingers out of you, taking a mental picture of how hot it was that your slick had soaked him down to his rings. Before you can sit up with any sort of protest, he cups his hands on the backs of your thighs and pushes forward to effectively fold you in half. Your head perks up, about to inform him that he is wildly overestimating your flexibility, he cuts you off.

"Just lay back," his hands run up and down from your inner knees down to your ass and back up, "lay back and let me make you feel good, you can do that for me, yeah?"

"Yeah okay," you breathe out as he places a tender kiss to the part of your thigh just under your bent knee, a part of you that had never had any sexual connotation before, and now the feeling of his lips were permanently seared into the skin there.

The last thing you caught sight of before your eyes rolled into the back of your head was Eddie spitting straight onto your pussy, not that it wasn't wet enough already, and immediately going in to lick a fat stripe up the middle of your center. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he repeated the action, his grip on the meat of your thighs tightening and leaving fingerprint sized indents. He attached his lips to your clit and rolled it against his tongue in a way that you had never experienced.

Sure, you'd been on the receiving end of head before, but not like this. It had always been a 'hey, I just need to make sure your pussy is wet enough for my dick' sort of situation and never a 'it would be my pleasure to die here in between your thighs' situation. The moans that escaped you were shaky and broken, unlike the noises coming from between your legs, a sinful combination of wet slurping and Eddie deeply moaning and humming approval into you as he ate you out.

Your legs began to shake, partially from your growing orgasm, and partly from this advanced yoga position Eddie had you in. He slid a hand down from the juncture of your leg to toy with the pooling wetness at your hole. You let your wobbly hand replace his holding your knee back for him, keeping you spread open and on display as he stuffed two fingers into you, continuing to suck on your clit.

"Ohmyfuckinggod," your words slurred together in a high pitched moan, "Eddie- Eddie, fuck." You were no longer in control of the noises coming out of your mouth, a barely coherent slew of Eddie's name, 'fuck's' and 'please.'

He groaned into your cunt, picking up the pace and curling his fingers into you just like he had the night before, this time with the added pleasure of his mouth devouring you. You were not long for this world.

'You're gonna make me come," you warned him, your voice sounding on the verge of a sob, "feels so fucking good, Eddie, please."

Your eyes screwed shut and legs fell from their pushed back position to clamp around his head as your orgasm took over you. Crashing waves of pleasure that were pulling you out like a riptide. All you can feel is the release, hardly noticing your shaking legs or broken moans. Eddie moves up to catch your lips in a deep, wet kiss, slowing his hand as you ride out the end of your orgasm, still quivering around him.

You were severely out of breath, but refused to break the kiss. His slick, swollen lips swallowed your moans and anchored you, bringing you back down to earth.

"Mmmmm," he hums into the kiss, "you need to quiet down, unless you're tryina get me in trouble," he whispers into your lips, dipping down for another soft kiss as you regain your composure.

"Fuck, sorry," you pant out.

"Don't apologize to me," he slowly pulls his hand from your center and you wince slightly, "if it were just the two of us in this cabin I'd insist you let those pretty moans out to your heart's content."

"I'll be quiet," you reach down to palm him through his low hanging pajama pants, "will you please fuck me? Need to feel your cock in me so badly Eddie, I know you're gonna make me feel so good again."

A feral groan rumbles in his chest, head tilting back towards the ceiling as you stroke what felt to be an incredibly well endowed cock.

"You sure you're up for it?" Now it was his turn to show the hint of neediness in his voice.

"Are you sure?" You question back, getting a better grip through the material of his pants.

"You know I wanna fuck you," he ruts into your hand ever so slightly, "but I need to hear you say it."

"I already did Eddie," you mumble into his neck, "Want your cock so bad, I want to make you feel good too."

He rolls over onto his back, and slips off his pants and boxers. You shift onto your knees next to him, unsure of what position he'd want you in. As his hard cock springs out of his elastic waistband and onto his stomach you lose control over your facial muscles and let your slack jaw hang open, eyes bulging slightly.

"Wh-" a look of concern on his face grows as he notices your expression, looking from you, down to his cock, then back to you, "Oh! The piercing?"

You were completely frozen, because the only thing more shocking than the two little metal balls sticking out of his cockhead was the fact that Eddie Munson had a pornstar dick. Thick, long, girthy, perfectly curved, the most glorious shade of blushed pink. No wonder he had decided to bedazzle it, it was gorgeous. Not only was it the largest and most aesthetically pleasing dick you'd ever seen, in real life or photos, you sure as hell had never had one that big inside you.

"Yeah, the piercing-" your voice trailed off, still gawking at it.

"Shit, I'm sorry if you're like, super freaked out," the worry in his voice snapped you out of your trance, "I guess I maybe should have warned you-"

"No no," you were quick to correct his concern, reaching down to wrap your hand, which hardly fit, around it and give a few experimental strokes, "it's fucking perfect." You were visibly salivating, wanting to feel how the metal balls felt against your hot tongue.

"I mean, it's okay I guess," you say, sitting up, "I wouldn't want to give you an ego or anything," joking sarcasm rolled off your tongue, "but fuck..." the way he twitched in your hand drew you back in, not thinking twice before leaning forward and letting your tongue run from the underside of his shaft up across the metal balls that decorated the head, all the way up to his leaking slit. Your tongue gathered his precum and went back to explore how the piercing felt against your lips, rolling it across your tongue, placing open mouthed kisses to the head.

"Shit-" he hisses out, Eddie knew his dick was fine, maybe a little bigger than average or something, but no one had ever stopped to admire it, compliment it. Then again, most of Eddie's sexual escapades were just that, escapades. Random girls in bar bathrooms, quickies in the back of his van, a few weed customers who he didn't mind exchanging a good quick fuck for a discount. Sure, he'd heard the 'oh you're so big' line mid thrust, but everyone said that about the person they're fucking, right?

After feeling his hips twitch a bit underneath you, you release his cock with a soft pop and climb on top of his torso. Grinding down on his hard length with a few slow forward rolls of your hips, you can't help but lurch forward and capture his lips in a kiss. You let out a deep moan as you feel the head of his cock catch your clit as you drag your wet folds up and down his shaft. Your foreheads stay pressed together as your mouth opens in a silent gasp, his hands coming down to guide your hips and dig his fingertips into your ass.

"Fuck, princess," his voice was low and sexy, and the new nickname had you bucking your hips a little harder, "lay back and let me make you feel good again. This is all about me giving it to you right, yeah? So let me do all the work."

You know his intentions were sweet, but you kept his hips pinned under yours. "Eddie I-" you pull back a bit to meet his eyes, "you can fuck me however you want in a bit, but... I've never had anything that big inside me before and..."

"Shhhh," his hands ran up and down your sides, "we can take it slow, promise. You can sit on my cock and take it at your own pace, let it fill you up right, don't wanna hurt you."

With that you nudged his tip into your entrance ever so slightly, taking a moment to feel how his piercing dragged across your cunt and left a cool metal trail that sent a shiver down your spine. Once you slipped the head inside you, it really wasn't any different from an unpierced dick, other than the sheer girth of it. Your teeth caught your lower lip, sinking down to take the first two inches or so, letting your opening adjust to its size.

It was taking everything in Eddie's willpower not to thrust up into you, or grab your hips and roll them down onto his aching cock. But he knew better than that, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in any way. So he stayed still, holding in a deep and shaky breath as you started to take him. Part of him wanted to look away from the gorgeous faces you were making, because if you were going to bat your eyelashes and tuck that perfect lip in between your teeth he was going to come a lot sooner than either of you would like. But he can't bring himself to do it, loving the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost like when you were angry.

You were fully seated on his cock now, breathing slowly and leaning back to sit up straight on it, somehow pushing it even deeper into you.

"That's it," Eddie's hands still gripped at your hips, making sure you were steady on him, "that's my girl, taking me so well."

You experimentally shifted your weight front to back, rocking your hips shallowly against his. You felt Eddie move underneath you, reaching his hand from its place on your hip to your back. He adjusted his position, and pushed up against the headboard to sit upright, now holding your torso against his. He smoothed your hair across the back of your head.

"It's okay if you need a minute," he took your chin in his hands, clenching his jaw as you continued to rock your hips into his, "don't want you to hurt yourself.

"Just feel so fucking full," you whispered into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck for leverage, "need you to fuck me, fuck me deep and hard, please Eddie, need it."

He arches his hips up slightly to meet your hips as they come down, and your eyes practically spin into the back of your head. He takes it slow, his first few thrusts from under you are careful and gentile. You continue to mumble "please" and "more" into his lips, so he scoops you up from your back and flips you over, not removing his cock from deep within you as you settle down into the mattress. Your legs wrap around his hips and he pushes his dick all the way into you, reaching a new spot that knocks the wind out of you.

"Fuck just like that," your words are hardly there, "so fucking good, Eddie, Eddie..."

"Beautiful," he fucks into you a little harder, "your pussy was fucking made for me." His hands were settled on the backs of your thighs, keeping you spread nice and open for him to pound his cock into you. He lets one hand press into your lower stomach, pushing his cock down while inside you, causing you to let out a gasp. He lets his palm spread your on your lower abdomen, letting his thumb creep closer and closer to your clit, catching it every so often as your hips rolled back and forth with his thrusts.

"You gonna be good and let me make you come again?" he asks, the cocky edge in his voice has you losing all coherence, "so pretty wrapped around my cock."

The movements of his thumb are much more deliberate now, rubbing your clit in tandem with the movement of his hips. He wasn't fucking you particularly fast, but he was making sure his cock was buried all the way inside you with every thrust, rolling his hips forward and punctuating each thrust with extra pressure.

"Oh my god, I-" your head was thrown back into the flannel pillowcases, body starting to tense up again. You were still so wet and turned on from your last orgasm, but coming while his massive cock was in you was going to be entirely different, you could feel it.

"That's it, come on my cock," he could feel the muscles in your thighs start to tighten, the walls of your pussy fluttering around him as he drew methodical figure eights on your clit. You felt so fucking good around him, so warm and wet and tight, swallowing his cock up with every thrust. That plus those damn sounds you were making. But Eddie had a goal, and couldn't be distracted by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body, his one and only focus was to push you over the edge, to take care of you and do it right.

The choked sobs leaving your heaving chest were the first indicator that you were about come, that and your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice. You weren't able to form words as you fell apart for him, just letting broken moans escape you as your body shook and released all that tension. Part of you could hear a string of praises coming from him, but all you could focus on was the ripple of your orgasm tearing through your body.

You start to come down for it, catching your breath, until you feel him pull out of you entirely and push you legs back as he had before, and dip his head down to lick down your quivering center. He lapped up your wetness and sent a few aftershocks buzzing into your core. His tongue slowed down and he let you settle down, before pushing his tongue entirely into you and letting out the most sensual groan right into your cunt.

"Holy shit," you let out, looking down at him and realized that next to seeing his dick for the first time, Eddie lapping up your orgasm was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

He sat up and let his cock rest in between your puffy pussy lips, his pierced head sitting right on your sensitive clit. He lets the weight of it fall into his hand and gives your pussy a few taps with his cock, sending your hips jerking from the sensitivity.

"Eddie," you start, eyes glassy and voice hoarse, "please keep fucking me, don't want you to stop."

"You want more?" a comment half cocky and half serious.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck me hard," your hands came up to play with your tits, "want you to come in me, use me, give it to me hard how I know you like it."

"'S'that right," he quickly grabs your hips and flips you over, angling your ass up in the air for him, "you wanna take all my come like the good girl you are?"

"Please," your muffled voice comes up from the sheets, "I'm on the pill, it's okay, it's safe."

"Mmm fuck," he slips his cock back into your soaking wet hole, guiding your hips back and forth with his big hands, "thank you, so fucking perfect for me, you can tell me if I go to hard, yeah?"

"Yeah Eddie," you try your best to bounce back on his cock, but know he's doing most of the work moving your ass to slap against his hips, "I want it hard."

With that he takes the initiative to snap his hips forward with every thrust, pulling your gorgeous ass back against him and twitching inside you every time it comes flush with his lower stomach. He can't help but bring a flat palm down to smack it, loving the big red handprint he leaves behind, and loving even more the muffled moan that leaves you when he does so.

"Y'like that?" he already knows you do, but just wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, again, please," each word comes out as a short gasping breath. He smacks your ass again, watching it jiggle against his palm has him thinking he's died and gone to heaven, you his personal angel.

Although he can feel the end in sight, he wants to feel your pussy squeeze around his cock again, so he snakes his hand under your arched hips and toys with your clit. You're beyond fucked out at this point, but can't help but prop yourself up on straightened arms to give him more room to rub against you. He leans down to press his chest against your back, one arm coming down by your side to support his weight as he fucks down into you.

"One more time," he lets out into the skin of your shoulder, "can you come for me one more time, princess?"

“I-” you start, about to tell him you’re unsure, but then he starts rubbing fast strokes against your clit and you’re already seeing stars.

He’s fucking into you fast and hard, just like you’d asked him to. The feeling of you clenching down on him has him biting your shoulder to hold back his grunts and moans. As soon as he feels your pussy start to gush around him, your arms collapsing and legs shaking under him, he lets go with a soft grunt and spills his come deep inside you.

He lets his cock stay there for a moment, pulsing inside you, relishing in the feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him. He pulls out slowly and you let out a small yelp, letting your hips fully sink down to the mattress without his hands to heep you propped up.

He runs a hand across your thigh, and you acknowledge your attention with a hum.

“M’gonna go get something to clean you up,” his voice is soft and you nod into the pillows, making a half hearted attempt to roll your body over. He uses his discarded sweatpants to wipe off his forehead and chest, suddenly aware of how sweaty he is, you both are.

He slips on his boxers and creeps down the hall to the kitchen, grabbing a big glass of water and a clean hand towel run under the sink. He slips back into the room to find you paid out on the bed, all sweaty and fucked out, it’s the best you’ve ever looked to him.

He lifts you up by the shoulders and helps you sit up while you take a few sips of water and let out a “thank you” in between sips. He runs the warm cloth in between your legs a few times to catch anything sticky, before tossing it into the pile with his dirty clothes.

You were already mostly knocked out, all the energy completely drained from your body. Typically you’d awkwardly dance around the notion of spending the night or not, but your eyes felt too heavy to care, and your body was already molded into his sheets. He flicked off the bedside light and got settled into bed next to you, thinking you were already completely asleep.

“Thank you Eddie,” your voice was sleepy and almost didn't cut through the air.

“No problem, good sex is dehydrating,” he responds, assuming you meant the thanks for the water and towel.

“No thank you for taking care of me,” you roll into his arms, snuggling up against him, “I didn’t know sex could be like that.”

“Like what?” he partially knew what you meant, given that the three times you’ve ever come during sex all happened in the past hour.

“Like magic,” you’d have been embarrassed to say it in other circumstances. But the post sex bliss and intense sleep that was washing over you made you sort of hazy and elated.

“Yeah I think you’re pretty magic too,” he wrapped you up in his arms, feeling the same tiredness, “good night y/n.”

The next morning he felt a sort of sore stiffness in his body, wiping the crust from his eyes and suddenly remembering the events of the night prior. There was an empty warm spot in the bed next to him, indicating you must have slipped out recently. He shook out his messy bedhead and threw on some sweatpants.

A short trip down the hall brought him into the kitchen, where you were making a pot of coffee. You heard him come in from the hallway, and you suddenly tensed up at the thought of facing him. How did he look so damn good mid yawn, rubbing his face and his hair a wild mess.

You turn towards the coffee machine on the counter, frantically trying to think of what to say or how to act towards him. Before you could give it too much thought, you feel his presence directly behind you, his arms caging you in and his back pressed against you.

“Are you pouring me a cup?” he asks, hunching down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you elongate the word, taking in his scent and feeling his hair tickle your neck, “this is how you take it right? No cream, no sugar.”

“Mhmmm,” he mumbles into your hair, giving you a quick peck on the side of your neck before moving to grab the cup.

“Wow okay early bird Eddie,” Robin’s voice cuts through the air of the kitchen and he immediately grabs his coffee and moves away from you. There’s no way she wouldn’t notice and the two of you cringe at the somewhat compromising position.

“Okay I don’t think I want to know what the hell that was about,” she points between the two of you. Ahh Robin, master of the art of subtlety.

Steve comes into the kitchen, immediately sensing the awkward air between everyone in the small space.

“Oh god,” he looks from Robin’s pointing finger to the two of you with somewhat guilty expressions, “was THAT all that noise I heard last night? Jesus Christ you two.” He turns out of the kitchen dramatically, leaving Robin with a bewildered expression and the two of you cringing.

“At least they’re fucking instead of fighting now!” she calls to him as he continues to walk down the hall away from you.

Amongst Robin yelling and Steve leaving in a huff, Eddie manages to sneak his hand behind you and pinch your ass, making you jump a bit and the coffee in your cup to slosh around. He gives you a wink and starts to head out of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna have my coffee by the lake, you joining me?”

Maybe this trip was going to be something special after all.

All Eddie Fics Taglist: @eddielives1986

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #smut #smut fanfiction

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lordprettyflackotara · 27 days

Text

snakelike || mattheo riddle

smut. 18+. minors dni. hate fucking. enemies to lovers trope. that’s it. it’s just that. bahaha enjoy ;)

Gryffindor.

Known for bravery, courage, and loyalty. These were supposed to be the core traits. Maybe they were for most Gryffindors. But the most defining trait Mattheo saw in you was something more. If it weren’t so defiant he would’ve questioned your house placement. You were known for your fucking nerve. You had the nerve to terrorize anyone who crossed you or stood in your way.

Mattheo knew this first hand, being your number one competitor. The two of you went head to head in quidditch, a permanent scowl stitched across your face everytime a green uniform stepped onto the field. To your displeasure they had won this year’s championship, winning the house cup along with the final quidditch match. Mattheo felt like he was making history, whilst being able to shove his victory in your face at the same time.

Oh, was it so bittersweet. The satisfaction of seeing your unscathed rage and envy. The downside? The subtle fear that lingered in the back of his mind. The fear that somehow someway, he knew you’d get him back.

In celebration of winning it all the Slytherins decided to throw a party. Exclusively Slytherins only, obviously. Usually they’d extend their invitation to other houses, a flirty Blaise Zabini a major advocate for ‘meeting new people.’ But tonight? All of the house members were buzzing with excitement, the ability to fully let loose creating quite a stir. Of course winning quidditch wasn’t the old fashioned way, playing fair and all. He honestly figured Madam Hooch would catch on. But she didn’t and Mattheo got away with whispering a few jinxes.

The smell of muggle grass and booze laced the air, violating the nostrils of every attendee. Mattheo silently thanked himself for choosing Blaise as the designated DJ, cringing at the memory of Lorenzo playing classical music at their last get together. His eyes glanced across the crowd of swaying bodies, searching for Theo or Draco. He was in the mood for a shot, but opted to be waiting so he could celebrate the houses victory with his best friends.

Mattheo thought he was getting intoxicated from the air when a flash of red walked by him. He narrowed his eyes, blinking a few times and trying to settle his vision through the flashes of blinding lights. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, causing him to grab the strangers wrist and twist it. “Holy fuck dude, what the fuck?” Theo hissed. Mattheo instantly dropped his wrist, his green eyed friend raising his eyebrows at him. “Who pissed in your cheerios?” He seethed, rubbing his wrist. Mattheo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, thought I saw a flash of red in here,” Mattheo explained. Theo chuckled, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “No lions will be wondering into the snake den tonight Riddle,” He replied, extending the pack to him. Logically he was right, the appearance of a Gryffindor one even you wouldn’t be as bold to make. Mattheo took a cigarette from Theo’s pack, the two taking a brief moment to light the heads.

“Malfoy’s over by pool table. I think he’s trying to show Greengrass his skills,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. The two walked side by side, crowds departing to give them room to walk. Mattheo Riddle was well known and respected, whether anyone wanted to admit it or not. If it wasn’t enough being the dark lords son, his aggressive and violent nature built a reputation by itself. Mattheo was finally able to relax as the tobacco swirled around his lungs, creating comfort as he exhaled through his nostrils.

The pool table was a muggle sport, one Pansy insisted the group give a shot after spending an evening playing it with Hermione Granger. After managing to get one in the Slytherin common room, it became a regular spot for Mattheo and his friends. Before the duo could arrive, a frantic Pansy stood before them. “Hey guys I think we should go do shots! Why don’t we go do shots?” She suggested, smiling nervously. Mattheo glanced at Theo, the two communicating telepathically.

“Pans, what’s wrong?” Theo questioned. The short girl laughed awkwardly, placing her hands on both boys chest. “Nothing! Seriously though let’s go this way,” Pansy encouraged, trying to guide the boys in the opposite direction. That’s when Mattheo heard it, the sound of your beautiful laughter. His ears twitched, his eyes flickering upwards towards the pool table. “Son of a bitch,” He muttered, pushing past Pansy.

Theo and Pansy trailed behind him, recognizing the shit storm that was about to occur. You were bent over the side of the pool table, a red dress complimenting your curves. Your lips were painted the same shade of red, curled up in a smile as a familiar face guided you with the pool stick. Lorenzo stood behind you, your body’s connected as his hands sat over yours. Your eyes flickered up to Mattheo’s, soaking in his facial expression of rage.

“Hi Riddle,” You greeted, hitting one of the pool balls into the pocket with ease. Lorenzo grinned, leaning back and grabbing the pool stick from your hand. “See? I told you that you’d be a pro in no time,” He said encouragingly. Mattheo looked between the two of you, racking his brain for an explanation. “A lion cub wondering into a snake den wasn’t the wisest decision, don’t you think?” Mattheo spat, lacing his words carefully. The only conclusion he could draw, based on the goofy grin on Lorenzo’s face, was that his friend was oblivious, naive, and an idiot.

“I’d be careful disrespecting a pride’s leader Riddle. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” You purred, batting your eyelashes mockingly. Pansy and Theo exchanged glances, attempting to anticipate Mattheo’s next move. He was boiling was rage, your stupid red dress only igniting the flame further. “Can’t we all just have a good time guys? After all, it’s a celebration isn’t it?” Lorenzo suggested, sipping his red solo cup. Mattheo inhaled more of his cigarette, flicking away the ashes onto the dreaded pool table. The table that, at this current moment, was the bane of his existence.

Lorenzo frowned at the sight of the ashes. “Hey you’re going to ruin the game, you’ve got to give up cigarettes,” He said, handing the pool stick back to you. Mattheo took one last deep inhale, a naive Lorenzo placing his red solo cup on the edge of the table. “Alright, i’ll start now,” He agreed, shoving the bud of his cigarette in his red solo cup. The sizzle of the flame was music to Mattheo’s ears, his lips curling up in a devilish grin. Lorenzo’s face twisted in disgust, going to take a step towards Mattheo.

Mattheo was never one to shy away from a fight, even if it was one of his moron friends. You quickly stepped in between them. “Enough of this petty shit. Get out of here Riddle,” You spat, glaring up at the tall Slytherin. For a brief moment, when you weren’t running that mouth of yours, Mattheo consciously thought to himself you were quite pretty. “I’ll leave, but you’re coming with me little cub. Otherwise the next time I put out my cigarette it’ll be on his forehead,” Mattheo snarled, glaring at the man behind you.

You gritted your teeth, grabbing Mattheo’s wrist harshly. “You wanna play? Fine. Let’s play,” You grumbled, digging your nails into his skin. You dragged him through the crowd, a Gryffindor dragging Mattheo around an impossible sight. You dragged him over to the closest room, tossing him inside. Mattheo didn’t know the owner of this dorm room, but he was pleased to see it was empty.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind coming here,” Mattheo growled. You audibly scoffed, folding your arms. “Guess i’m joining you then, considering you lost yours when you decided to jinx my fucking broom!” You argued. Mattheo’s hardened gaze temporarily fell, shock briefly washing over his features before he swiped it away. “I may not be a Ravenclaw but i’m not stupid. You’re just lucky I found out long after the game,” You huffed. Mattheo hadn’t anticipated this outcome, your intelligence a trait he had underestimated.

“Why didn’t you snitch to madam hooch?” Mattheo questioned. He eyed you carefully, your small figure much more intimidating than before. “I figured riding your best friends face would work far more sufficient,” You quipped, grinning mischievously. Mattheo was on you in a flash, shoving you against the closest wall. His hands pinned you against the dark wood, his face inches from yours. “You fucking slut,” He growled. You glared up at him, your eyes briefly flickering down to his soft lips.

You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, the smell of cigarettes and cologne flooding your nostrils. You could faintly smell his conditioner from his head full of curls, his hair having grown a bit longer than the last time you had seen it. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat weakly, your heart beginning to race. Tensions were rising quickly, the close proximity filling your stomach with butterflies. “Dont fuck with me princess, i’ll reach in that pretty little chest of yours and pull your heart out,” Mattheo huffed. He could feel adrenaline running through his veins, an odd mixture of rage and lust falling over him.

Your eyes, usually so fierce and viscous, seemed to be softening. Your pupils were blown, a familiar gaze of lust having fallen over your features. A silent war took place, one where neither of you wanted to make the first move. Heavy breathing ensured, fast heart beats, and intense eye contact were the only things stopping you from ripping each other apart.

You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, yanking his lips to yours. A rough clashing of teeth and tongues ensued, Mattheo’s hands quick to find your waist. He yanked you towards him, the taste of cigarettes and mint lacing your tongue as you both fought for dominance. You couldn’t give in to him. You couldn’t let him think he was in control. You pushed him towards the bed, struggling to reach your back zipper. “Having trouble princess?” Mattheo asked mockingly, smirking down at you. You tried to reach the zipper, straining your arm to do so.

“Shut it Riddle,” You snapped, face growing red with embarrassment. Fuck were you adorable. He reached around you, slowly pulling your zipper down. You could feel heat surging through your cheeks as your dress fell, leaving you almost fully exposed. You were a sight for sore eyes, Mattheo’s refusing to stray from you. “And to think you were hiding all of this under quidditch gear,” He mumbled, soaking in your figure. You rolled your eyes, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“If you keep up all of this talking i’m going to change my mind. I’m not here for your witty comments Riddle,” You spat, your attention focused on undoing his button. He grabbed your wrist firmly, bringing you a mere inch away from his face. “You and that fucking mouth. If you want me to make you cum you’re going to get on your knees and put that mouth to good use,” Mattheo growled. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip at the sound of his words. You controlled every aspect of your life, even if you didn’t want to.

Someone so toxic, someone you despised, calling the shots turned you on beyond belief. You sank to your knees, undoing Mattheo’s belt. “There we go, that’s a good girl,” He praised. You pulled down his slacks, yanking down his boxers with them. His cock was bigger than you expected, your eyes widening in visible shock. “Weasley’s can’t compete with me, can they?” Mattheo asked mockingly. His taunting words snapped you out of your trance, your eyes shooting daggers up at him. You licked the underside of his shaft, purposefully dragging your tongue painfully slow.

Mattheo tried to conceal a groan, his hand automatically flying to your hair. He bit his bottom lip as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his slit. “Fucking shit,” He huffed. He pushed you down further onto his cock, your thighs tightening at the sensation. The feeling of being used was enticing enough. The feeling of being used by your arch rival, the same one you insult on the quidditch field, was euphoric.

You forced your jaw to go slack, encouraging him to face fuck you. Mattheo looked down at you with proud eyes, admiring his cock in your mouth. “You are so pretty like this, fuck,” Mattheo groaned. He bucked his hips inside of your mouth, gripping a handful of your hair. His cock abused your throat, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and pooling onto the floor. You finally gagged, the sound music to Mattheo’s ears. He smirked down at you, finally pulling out of your mouth to give you air.

“You’re so pathetic, on your knees for me like a whore,” He snickered. Tears were flooding your waterline, your doe eyes admiring Mattheo from below. You quickly rose to your feet, pushing him back against the bed. “You and that fucking tongue,” You muttered. You quickly stripped yourself of your bra and panties, both of you rushing to take off Mattheo’s shirt. Your eyes briefly studied the scars that stained his chest, different than the ones that covered his face.

For a brief moment Mattheo could see empathy flicker across your face, before your eyes went up to his. “This tongue has gotten me more places than yours ever could,” He bickered weakly, your exposed breast and cunt making his mouth water. Electricity was buzzing between the two of you, your hips straddling him. You rubbed your folds up and down his shaft, earning a moan from the brunette below. “You didn’t think i’d let you fuck me without putting that tongue to good use, right?” You asked mockingly.

You quickly repositioned yourself hovering over Mattheo’s face. His large hands cupped your ass, bringing you closer to his mouth. You let out a string of curses as his tongue began lapping at your cunt, teasing your hole and swirling around your clit. “Fucking shit, fuck Mattheo,” You whined, gripping and pulling at his chocolate curls. Mattheo gripped your ass harder, purposefully squeezing the flesh as rough as you were pulling his hair. In a swift motion he flipped you around, your back hitting the mattress below as Mattheo made himself comfortable between his legs.

He brought two fingers to your dripping entrance. “Interesting how wet this tongue has made you, isn’t it?” Mattheo asked, smirking as your walls eagerly accepted his digits. You groaned in response, your hips bucking upwards as his fingers curled inside of you. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to hide any of the sinful noises that threatened to escape your lips if you broke composure. Mattheo noticed, his fingers stopping right as they brushed against your g spot.

“You better start moaning my name or i’ll stop. Wanna hear those pretty sounds,” He threatened. You whined as you grinded pathetically against his fingers, his digits finally curling again. “Please please please,” You pleaded, a knot tightening in your stomach with each pump. Mattheo sucked at the skin in between your thighs harshly, creating small hickies on the sensitive skin. “Thats it, keep begging for me,” He chuckled, relishing in the sight of you pleading for him. You were at his mercy, his will for once. And fuck was it a satisfying position to be in.

Mattheo began drawing sloppy circles around your clit with his thumb, your fingers entangling themselves deeper into his curls. “Matty i’m gonna cum-” You warned, an unholy moan escaping your throat as you released on his fingers. That nick name. That fucking nick name. Mattheo finger fucked you through your high, the feeling of you cumming for him and moaning that nick name made his heart thump harder. Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, repositioning himself above you. You looked dazed, your vision settling as his brown eyes stared down at you.

“Still think you can handle me princess? You look pretty fucked out to me,” Mattheo asked, playing with a strand of your hair. You blinked a few times, your vision settling on a cocky Mattheo. “You wouldn’t last a minute fucking me Riddle, don’t get too cocky,” You replied. Mattheo’s smirk fell, his hands quick to roughly reposition you. You arched your back as soon as you registered you were on all fours, your ass high in the air for Mattheo’s viewing. He bit his bottom lip as he gripped the flesh, bringing his tip to your aching cunt.

He rubbed his shaft up and down your folds, collecting your slick as you whimpered beneath him. He quickly shoved himself inside of you, not bothering to take things slow. You wanted rough? He’d show you fucking rough. “Dont pussy out on me, you can take it can’t you princess?” Mattheo purred. The pain began mixing with pleasure as he jerked his hips into yours, brushing against your g spot. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat, trying to hold on to some sense of dignity. Mattheo leaned over, his voice assertive, “Oh I will.”

His time of being nice was over, his hips rutting into yours like a wild animal. You couldn’t control your moans as he fucked you, his cock mercilessly abusing your cunt to Mattheo’s liking. “Feels so so g-good Matty,” You whined. His large hand flew down to your hair, grabbing a handful and yanking it towards him. “Lorenzo couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?” Mattheo asked roughly. You responded with incoherent babbles and curses, his cock continuing to slam inside of you.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, causing you to snap out of your haze. “I asked you a question slut,” He huffed. You were so fucking pretty like this, begging for more underneath him. If he had known you were this tight, this addicting, he would’ve done this a long time ago. “No he couldn’t, only you,” You babbled, whimpering as he released your hair. Your mind went blank as he fucked you, any feelings of resentment and hatred fading away with each thrust.

He may have ruined your chances at winning the house cup, but fuck did he make you feel good. Mattheo was pounding you into the bed, strings of curses with mixtures of your name leaving his lips as he harshly gripped your waist. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your walls squeezing him tighter. “Awe are you gonna cum before me? Really? That’s quite pathetic,” Mattheo huffed, sensing your oncoming orgasm. Warnings of your impending release were made, Mattheo’s thrust becoming impossibly faster.

“Fucking hold it, wanna cum with you, cum with me,” He panted, his cock twitching just in time. You grabbed handfuls of the sheets as you came on his cock, milking him dry for every last drop of his seed. You could feel his warm cum painting your cunt, his cock still buried inside of you. Mattheo didn’t want to leave your cunt, his heart feeling like it was going to burst inside of his chest. Slowly he pulled out of you, readjusting you gently. It felt odd, Mattheo’s fingertips grazing your skin as if you were fragile.

You rolled over onto your back, Mattheo laying beside you. “That wasn’t half bad Riddle,” You say, halfway attempting at a compliment. Mattheo smirked down at you, wrapping his arm around you. He brought you closer, pretending he didn’t notice your cheeks flush red. “Call me Matty,” He replied. A peaceful silence filled the room for a moment, the only audible sound being both of your breathing. It wasn’t in Mattheo’s nature to stay quiet for long, his next words leaving his lips without a second thought:

“That was pretty snakelike what you did, sneaking in here just to spite me. You sure you weren’t placed in the wrong house?”

“Shut it Matty.”

#mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x y/n #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #blaise zabini #harry potter #harry potter smut

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originalangelfest · 23 days

Text

I was able to get some scenes of Mae and Noa.

(i love this song)

I saw many fans saying that Noa and Mae have a lot of chemistry in the movie, since the two of them couldn't stop looking at each other and Noa didn't want to let other's take her away. (you can see it in the scene where they arrive at the ship where Noa doesn't want them to take her away from him.) and since i saw the trailer, i never thought i would pair an ape and a human, but here I am. Throughout the movie you can see that Noa is always looking at Mae. Obviously at first he has zero trust in her and just wants her to go away, but then he starts to gain curiosity in her. In the negotiation scene you can feel the tension between the two of them. While Mae tries to apologize to him and Noa doesn't know whether to believe her or not since he considered her an ally. I know there are people who will tell me that Noa is in love with Soona but, in the scene where Mae asks Noa if he likes Soona he simply says that they were born close together but doesn't say anything else, so Mae just nods and turns around. And I think it is important to mention that Noa gives to Mae her mother's blanket and Raka's medallion, and he himself says that they are important for him. Noa doesn't give to Soona anything that is important to him, even that she is his childhood friend and Mae is just a human (It's a little boring that they make the classic childhood friends into lovers when we had too many scenes of Mae and Noa together.)I also have to mention the moment when Proximus Caesar is yelling at Noa to decide between Mae and Soona (Soona had a knife under her neck) and he can't make a decision. so Mae shoots the ape that had the knife. At the end of the movie we see how Mae walks away sad while Noa watches her sadly. (Although Mae had her weapon hidden, I feel that she did not really want to kill him and only had it as a precaution, since she knews that Noa was going to be angry for betraying him.) The truth is that these two have the potential to be more than enemies or allies, and I think we are ready to see a romantic relationship between an ape and a human.

#nomae #planet of the apes #planet of the apes new kingdom #kotpota #noamae #Mae #Noa

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hannieehaee · 4 months

Note

Svt as tropes

seventeen as tropes

content: crushes, fluff, some of these are idol!aus (as in the member is an idol, not reader), etc.

wc: 884

a/n: these are just tropes that come to mind when i think of each member. i tried to keep it varied and original <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

enemies to lovers - he seems like he can be maybe a lil bit cocky at times (with reason, i mean have you seen him ..), so i think itd be possible to start off the wrong foot with him. he's also pretty stubborn, so pair with him another stubborn individual and you have a dragged out love story that begins with rivals and ends with a very fiery relationship.

jeonghan -

coworkers to lovers - jeonghan seems like an extremely charming and interesting guy who doesnt even have to try. im 100% sure people who work around him fall for him every single day. i think he'd be very entertained by the idea of crushing on a staff member/coworker. it would make him look forward to work and make him always seek you out while on the job.

joshua -

childhood friends to lovers - he seems the type that would keep a special someone in his heart for a very long time, even if it was just as friends. leaving his home country so young, the distance would make him realize his feelings and end up with that one special person from back home.

jun -

arranged marriage - okay not exactly arranged marriage but more so him being with someone his parents introduce him to! he seems to be a huge family oriented guy, so i see him ending up with someone his parents may have thought would be perfect for him. it'd start off as him giving it a chance to please his parents but ending up actually falling for this person.

soonyoung -

sunshine vs. grump - this concept isnt necessarily 100% black and white to me. but still i think maybe he would fall for someone who has a very contrasting personality his very positive and over the top demeanor. he'd enjoy the back and forth in which he'd act ridiculously to get his s/o to react while they pretended to be annoyed by him.

wonwoo -

long distance - idk if this is a trope ?? but i think wonwoo's love absolutely transcends any and every obstacle imaginable. i think he would be the definition of distance makes the heart grow fonder. he would cherish every single moment he got to be with you, constantly yearning for you any second he was away from you.

jihoon -

opposites attract - as someone who seems to keep to himself a lot and is a bit of a homebody, i think he would easily fall for someone who got him out of his comfort zone and got him to discover parts of himself he didnt know about before. would adore an s/o who was louder in nature and livelier, feeling some sort of nurturing sense in him come out whenever he was around them.

seokmin -

friends to lovers - its a classic for a reason! i cant understand how people dont constantly fall for seokmin but im 100% sure that if he had a crush on a friend of his, he would easily be able to charm them enough for them to reciprocate the crush. there would be a period of time of that cute back and forth in which he tried to 'court' them, ending up together in the end.

mingyu -

chance encounter - watching nana tour ive loved seeing how insanely outgoing and likable by strangers he is so i think that he would be the type to incidentally meet a person and subsequently fall for them. however, mingyu is a hopeless romantic so he wouldnt allow for this to be his one and only meeting. he would go to hell and back to reconnect.

minghao -

language barrier - ok ik this isnt actually a trope but i really do see minghao taking interest in a person who doesnt speak his language. i think that if a foreigner (in this case someone who does not speak korean or chinese) caught his attention, he would not be deterred by the language barrier and still seek them out. he would maybe even be more intrigued by the concept of communicating despite the barrier.

seungkwan -

found family - seungkwan is one of the sweetest and most likable people alive. im sure there's tons of people out there who consider him part of their found family. i think he'd be the type to become super close with that special someone (to the point of considering them as precious as his own family) only to eventually fall for them (and have them fall right back bc i mean its boo so how would you not fall for him!).

vernon -

class difference - i really see him falling for someone who's not in the industry. just someone who is an average person with an average life. this would obviously come with its complications, but i think he would enjoy the contrast between your lives and would live a regular life through your own.

chan -

mutual pining - contrary to popular opinion, i believe chan has insane rizz. however! i think he would be the type to have negative rizz when he has a crush on someone. he's still impossible to not fall for though, so this would lead to him and his future s/o to pine for each other for years, not realizing that their friendship could be more if one of then would just step up and confess.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #svt oneshot #svt reactions #seventeen reactions #svt imagines

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jaystardust · 19 days

Text

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ MY STUPID BIRTHDAY

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, apparition of Jake, Sunoo, Jungwon and Minji (nwjns)

Warnings: slight humiliation, mention of food (tell me if I forget something)

Summary: in a world where every day counts, some days stand out more than others. for y/n, that day is her birthday, a day she shares with her best friend Sunghoon. but at their joint 16th stupid birthday celebration, an incident fractures their friendship

Words count: 3,9K

A/N : it's my first time posting a fic here, i had this idea popping into my head and decided to write something, idk if I will continue to write others in the future but I had so much fun writing this !! i hope you will enjoy it ( I don't really know if it is good or no tbh 😭😭), don't hesitate to give me some feedback or request something 💗

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365 days a year, sometimes even 366 days…you can say it's a lot.

Of all the days in the year, you chose your favorite. Some people like to choose Christmas or Halloween, while others prefer to be original and choose the day when the cherry trees blossom or the first snow falls. But you preferred to keep it classic, a day that might be banal for some, or cliché for others because your favorite day of all was your birthday.

What made this day so magical for you was the fact that you had the chance to share this date, so exceptional in your eyes, with your best friend Sunghoon. And that's why you became friends.

Sunghoon had come into your life at elementary school, arriving in the middle of the year and looking very shy. You remembered his arrival so well because he came to class on your so-called birthday, your 7th to be exact. On that day, your mother had baked your favorite cake, so you could share it with your classmates and blow out your candles, knowing that this day was so special to you.

When the cake arrived, you noticed the sparkle in the new kids's chocolate orbs. Curious to know if he shared your taste in pastries, you asked him if he was looking forward to tasting it. "Do you like strawberry shortcake cake too? They are my favorite!", the boy who seemed so silent didn't answer at the time and just looked at you. Surprised by his reaction, you tilted your head to one side and wondered why he didn't answer.

Ignoring the boy's attitude, you took his hand in yours and led him to the cake. “You can blow out my candles with me if you like!”, at the sound of such a friendly proposal, an expression you couldn't quite determine formed on Sunghoon's face, and his cheeks took on a crimson hue.

Not understanding his reaction once again, you thought he didn't want to. “Oh, you don't like birthdays?”. The young brunet lifted his head and shook it vigorously, at which point he answered in an almost inaudible voice, “No, no...I like birthdays. Today's my birthday too…”.

Hearing such a statement, you couldn't help but jump up and down with joy at the idea of sharing such a precious moment with your new friend. Sunghoon, on the other hand, couldn't help hiding his face, rather embarrassed by so much attention suddenly focused on him. Seeing him so shy and embarrassed, you took his hand so that he could be at your side. “Let's both make a wish and blow out our candles, okay?”. You offered him a smile that revealed the tooth you'd lost last week and closed your eyes before making your wish. While the boy's wish remained unknown, you wished that from now on you'd be able to spend every one of your birthdays by his side... a day so precious to you

From that moment on, you and Sunghoon became inseparable. Birthdays became a shared celebration, a tradition that solidified your bond year after year. But as you grew older, things began to change. The simplicity of childhood was replaced by the complexities of adolescence, and the once-easy friendship began to face challenges neither of you could have anticipated.

High school brought about a shift in your dynamic with Sunghoon. New friends, different interests, and the inevitable misunderstandings began to drive a wedge between you two. It was subtle at first, a missed text here, a skipped hangout there. But over time, the cracks widened until a full-blown argument erupted on the day of your joint 16th birthday.

It had been brewing for a while, the tension palpable. Sunghoon had become more withdrawn, focusing on his new friends, sports, and studies. The clash came over something trivial—an unfortunate event that happened during your birthday celebration.

At the long-awaited moment of blowing out your 16 candles, after wishing that things could work out between you and your best friend, Sunghoon had the wonderful idea of pushing your head into your birthday cake...in front of all the people who were invited. And what a shock it was to see one of his new friends named Jake laughing, holding up his phone to film the scene. “ Well done man! You nailed your bet, I didn't think you would!”.

After that, voices were raised, harsh words exchanged, and for the first time, you found yourself dreading your birthday. What a stupid birthday…

—

Years passed, and the distance between you and Sunghoon grew. From friends to enemies, it seemed. The shared birthday, once a symbol of your bond, now felt like a cruel reminder of what you had lost. Both of you were too stubborn to reach out, too hurt to mend the rift. So you ended your high school days this way.

College was supposed to be your fresh start, a new chapter free from the tangled mess of your high school drama. You had looked forward to it for years, dreaming of new experiences, new friendships, and the chance to redefine yourself away from the shadow of old wounds and betrayals.

The campus was everything you had hoped for—bustling with life, offering endless growth opportunities, and filled with the promise of adventure. But as fate would have it, the one person you wanted to leave behind, Sunghoon, was also here. Seeing him across the quad that first week sent a chill down your spine. Memories of your 16th birthday, the argument, and the subsequent Cold War came rushing back, tainting what should have been an exciting new beginning.

When your mutual friends first proposed the joint birthday party, you couldn't believe your ears. "It'll be just like old times," Sunoo said, completely unaware of the emotional landmine they had stepped on. Your heart sank. The idea of celebrating your birthday with Sunghoon felt like opening an old wound. The 16th birthday incident left a scar, a painful reminder of how someone you once trusted implicitly could hurt you so deeply.

Despite your protests, your friends were relentless. They saw the good memories, the fun, and the laughter from your shared celebrations. They remembered the duo that was inseparable and believed that one party could bridge the gap. To them, it seemed like a simple solution to rekindle a cherished tradition.

"Come on, it's just one night," Minji, your closest friend, pleaded. "You both deserve to have fun. It’ll be great, just like before."

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "It's not that simple, Minji. There’s a lot you don’t understand."

Minji sighed, her expression softening. "I get that you two had a falling out, but it was so long ago. People change, y/n. Maybe Sunghoon isn’t the same person who did that...stupid thing."

"It's not just about the cake," you snapped, then took a deep breath to calm yourself. "It's everything that happened afterward. He just...he wasn't there for me. We were supposed to be best friends, and he let me down."

Jungwon, another friend who was also part of your mutual circle, chimed in. "Y/n, we're not asking you to be best friends again overnight. Just give it a chance.”

You looked at them, feeling the weight of their words but also the burden of your memories. "I don't know if I can handle it," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if things get worse?"

Minji put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We've all seen how happy you two were back then. We just want to see you both happy again, even if it's just for one night. Can you try, for us?"

You hesitated, the memories of the laughter and joy you once shared with Sunghoon conflicting with the bitterness of your last encounter. The sincerity in your friends' eyes made it hard to refuse outright.

"Okay," you finally said, the word feeling heavy on your tongue. "I'll do it. But if things go south, I’m leaving. I can’t relive that nightmare."

Sunoo's face lit up with relief. "Thank you, y/n. We promise it’ll be worth it."

Jungwon grinned, giving you a thumbs up. "You won't regret it. We'll make sure it's an awesome party."

—

The first meeting to discuss party details was an exercise in tension. Sunghoon, once your shy and endearing best friend, now exuded an air of arrogance that made your blood boil. He walked into your living room with a confident swagger, greeting everyone casually, as if the years of animosity between you two didn’t exist.

"So, what's the plan?" Sunghoon asked, locking eyes with you for a moment. His gaze was steady, but you could see a flicker of something—regret, nostalgia?—before it vanished.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "We need to decide on the venue, decorations, food, and the guest list," you replied, your tone clipped.

"Great, I was thinking we should go big," Sunghoon said, leaning back in his chair. "A large venue, lots of music, and a huge guest list. It’s our 21st birthday after all."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Of course, you'd want that. I was thinking of something more intimate. Close friends, good food, a relaxed atmosphere."

Sunghoon smirked, his eyes challenging. "A small gathering? That’s boring, y/n. People want to have fun."

"Fun doesn't mean a circus," you shot back, your irritation evident.

Jake, sensing the rising tension, intervened. "Hey, why not meet in the middle? We can have a decent-sized venue but keep the guest list reasonable. And mix up the music so there’s something for everyone."

You and Sunghoon exchanged a reluctant glance, and to your surprise, he nodded. "Fine. That works for me."

You sighed, feeling a bit of the tension ease. "Okay. But I’m in charge of the decorations."

Sunghoon chuckled. "Deal. As long as I get to handle the music."

The rest of the meeting was a series of compromises. Despite the occasional bickering, you managed to make some progress. However, the tension from years of unresolved issues loomed over every decision, making even the simplest tasks feel burdensome.

—

One afternoon, after another heated argument over the party's theme, you found yourself alone in the library, trying to finalize the details. Memories of happier times with Sunghoon flooded your mind—his shy smile, the way he used to get excited about your shared birthdays, and the countless hours spent talking about everything and nothing.

You were lost in thought when Sunghoon walked in and sat across from you. "Look, I know we have our differences, but we need to make this work. For our friends," he said, his voice surprisingly sincere.

You sighed, nodding. "Yeah, you're right. Let’s just focus on making this a good party."

Sunghoon looked relieved, and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of the boy you once knew. "I remember how much you loved those fairy lights. Maybe we can use them for the decorations?"

You were taken aback by his suggestion. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do," he replied softly. "Those birthdays meant a lot to me too."

In the days that followed, you fell into an uneasy rhythm. Despite the bickering, there were moments when the old Sunghoon resurfaced. One morning, he brought you your favorite coffee, remembering your order perfectly.

"Here," he said, handing you the cup. "I figured you could use a break."

You took it, surprised. "Thanks."

Another time, he helped you with particularly tricky decorations. As you struggled with a set of lights, he appeared beside you, effortlessly untangling them.

"Let me help," he said, his voice gentle. "You always hated doing this alone."

These small gestures made you wonder if there was still something worth salvaging between you two. Could it be that beneath the layers of hurt and pride, the bond you once shared was still there, waiting to be rekindled?

—

Just as you began to hope for reconciliation, everything came crashing down. Walking past the student lounge one afternoon, you overheard Sunghoon talking to Jake. Their voices were casual, filled with the easy camaraderie of old friends, but what you heard made your blood run cold.

"Yeah, she's still unbearable," Sunghoon was saying. "I don't regret pushing her head into the cake at all. Honestly, I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

The words felt like a dagger to your heart. Any progress you thought you’d made, any hope for a rekindled friendship, shattered in an instant. You turned and walked away, not wanting to hear another word. The small gestures, the moments where you thought the old Sunghoon was resurfacing, all felt like lies. The betrayal was raw and overwhelming, stirring up all the old hurt and anger you had tried so hard to move past.

That evening, you decided to confront Sunghoon. The emotions you had kept bottled up were boiling over, and you needed to let them out.

“Sunghoon, I overheard what you said to Jake,” you began, your voice trembling with suppressed anger.

Sunghoon looked up, confusion and worry flashing across his face. “Y/n, what are you talking about?”

“You said I’m unbearable and that you’d push my head into a cake again,” you replied, each word laced with the pain of your resurfaced wounds. “I thought we could maybe get past what happened, but clearly, you haven’t changed at all.”

Sunghoon’s face fell, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you once knew, the boy who had been your best friend. “It’s not like that,” he started, his voice soft and pleading.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you snapped, cutting him off. The anger in your voice masked the hurt you felt. “We’ll go through with this party for our friends, but after that, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Sunghoon’s shoulders slumped, and he took a step towards you, desperation in his eyes. “Y/n, please. Let me explain. It was a stupid joke. I didn’t mean it.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “A joke? You think that’s funny? Humiliating me, and then saying you’d do it again? That’s not a joke, Sunghoon. That’s just cruel.”

“I was trying to fit in with the guys,” Sunghoon said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean any of it. I’ve been an idiot, but I don’t want to lose you again.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache, but the pain of his words was still too fresh. “You already lost me, Sunghoon,” you whispered. “A long time ago. And this just proves that you don’t care.”

Sunghoon reached out, but you stepped back, putting distance between you. “Y/n, please, don’t do this. We’ve come so far.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of sadness and anger. “No, Sunghoon. You might think we’ve come far, but we’re right back where we started. I can’t keep doing this.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Sunghoon standing there, looking lost and broken. The weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders, but you knew it was the right choice. You couldn’t keep reopening old wounds, hoping they’d heal. You needed to move forward, even if it meant leaving Sunghoon behind.

—

The rest of the preparations were a blur. You avoided Sunghoon as much as possible, communicating only when absolutely necessary. Every interaction was charged with tension, a constant reminder of the unresolved issues and the hurt still lingering between you. The memories of the overheard conversation haunted you, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Despite the strained atmosphere, you channeled all your energy into making sure the party went off without a hitch. Your friends noticed the strain but chose to focus on the upcoming celebration, hoping the event would mend the rift.

The party was in full swing. Music blared, lights flashed, and people danced and laughed. You kept your distance from Sunghoon, mingling with friends and trying to enjoy yourself despite the heavy weight on your heart. The venue was beautifully decorated, with fairy lights casting a warm glow over the scene. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, but you couldn’t shake the hurt and betrayal lingering in your mind.

Minji caught you alone near the drinks table and pulled you aside. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

You forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just trying to get through the night.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “I know things have been tough, but maybe tonight can be a fresh start?”

You sighed, looking over at Sunghoon who was laughing with some friends. “I don’t know, Minji. It’s hard to forget everything that happened.”

“I get it,” she said softly. “But I’ve seen how he looks at you. I think he genuinely wants to make things right.”

Before you could respond, someone called Minji away, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As the night wore on, you found yourself on the balcony, staring out at the city lights. The cool night air did little to soothe your turmoil.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Sunghoon approaching. He looked hesitant, his usual confidence replaced by a tentative vulnerability.

“Y/n..” he started, his voice soft. “Can we talk?”

You crossed your arms, trying to protect yourself from more hurt. “What is there to talk about, Sunghoon?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a jerk, and I know I hurt you. But you have to understand, Jake and I… we have a complicated relationship. I was just trying to impress him, but it was stupid, and I regret it.”

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because,” he said, stepping closer, “I miss you. I miss us. And I know I’ve screwed up, but I want to make it right. Not just for tonight, but for good.”

You looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deceit. “You think just saying sorry will fix everything? You humiliated me, Sunghoon. You made me feel like I meant nothing to you.”

“I know,” he admitted, his eyes downcast. “I’ve been an idiot. I let Jake’s influence get to me, and I hurt the one person who mattered most. But I swear, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“Why now?” you demanded, your voice rising. “Why should I trust you now?”

“Because I’ve realized how much I’ve lost,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “And because I don’t want to lose you again. Not when we’ve been through so much. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for a chance to prove I’ve changed.”

Something in his voice, in his eyes, made you want to believe him. The sincerity, the vulnerability—it all felt genuine. And maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to forgive and start anew.

“Okay,” you said softly. “But this time, no more cake pushing.”

Sunghoon laughed, a genuine, warm laugh that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again. “Deal,” he said, offering his hand. “Let’s make a new wish together.”

As you shook his hand, you felt a spark of hope. You both walked back into the party, side by side, and your friends immediately noticed the change. Minji gave you an encouraging smile, and Jake looked pleasantly surprised. Their eyes seemed to convey a silent message of hope and reconciliation, urging you both to embrace this newfound chance at rebuilding your friendship.

Sunghoon led you to the table where the birthday cake sat, a beautifully decorated strawberry shortcake, just like the one from your childhood. The room quieted down as everyone gathered around, sensing the importance of the moment. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, a tangible sense of possibility lingering in the air.

Sunghoon turned to you, his eyes soft with sincerity. “Ready to make a wish?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through you. “Ready.”

Together, you both closed your eyes, allowing the weight of the past to momentarily fade into the background. At this moment, there was only the promise of a fresh start, a chance to mend what had been broken between you.

“On three?” Sunghoon asked, his voice a gentle reassurance.

You nodded again, a small smile playing on your lips. “One, two, three.”

You both blew out the candles in unison, the room erupting in cheers and applause. For the first time in years, you felt that familiar warmth of the bond you once shared, slowly but surely being rekindled. The collective joy of the moment washed over you, melting away the layers of resentment and hurt that had accumulated over time.

—

The night continued with laughter and joy, the tension of the past giving way to the lightness of the present. You found yourself by Sunghoon's side more often than not, the ease of your interactions reminiscent of the friendship you had once cherished.

As the hours passed, you found yourself engaged in heartfelt conversations, sharing memories and dreams with Sunghoon as if no time had passed at all. The barriers that had once divided you seemed to dissolve in the warmth of companionship, leaving behind a renewed sense of connection and understanding.

At one point, amidst the laughter and chatter, Sunghoon leaned in close to you, his voice a whisper in the bustling room. “I’m glad we had this chance, Y/N. I’ve missed you.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes echoing the sentiment in your own heart. “I’ve missed you too, Sunghoon. Let’s not lose this again.”

He smiled, a genuine expression of warmth and affection. “We won’t.”

At that moment, surrounded by the people you cared about most, you knew that this was more than just a party—it was a celebration of forgiveness, of second chances, and of the enduring bond between friends. As you looked around at the smiling faces and heard the echoes of laughter filling the air, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the opportunity to rebuild what had once been lost.

And as the night drew to a close, and the last echoes of laughter faded into the night, you found yourselves standing alone in the quiet embrace of the moonlit balcony. The world seemed to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air as you gazed into each other's eyes.

Without a word, Sunghoon reached out, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that stole your breath away. And in that fleeting moment, with the stars as witness to your reunion, you leaned in, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of the love and forgiveness that had brought you back together.

Now, every day with Sunghoon, whether it’s 365 or 366, will be a reminder of the bond you share—a bond strong enough to weather any storm. As you melted into the warmth of his embrace, you couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had led you here, from the pain of this stupid birthday to the sweetness of this moment, where love and forgiveness triumphed over past hurts.

#sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #sunghoon imagines #fic tag #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #park sunghoon #enhypen angst #sunghoon angst

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

16:00 ──────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne.

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie.

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color.

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year.

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened.

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.”

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter?

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.”

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel.

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact.

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself.

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.”

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?”

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today.

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?”

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.”

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.”

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait.

An offering.

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing.

You won’t make the first move.

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith.

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?”

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips.

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers.

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident.

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again.

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing.

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.”

“We can still have a marathon.”

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go.

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable.

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him.

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it.

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter.

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?”

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?”

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.”

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.”

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now.

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing.

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.”

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me?

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.”

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.”

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.”

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?”

“You’ve got something better to do?”

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly.

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.”

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you.

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat.

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him.

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

#twenty four hours #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #sorry if it sucks #please be kind and if you're disappointed... do not tell me for the sake of my mental health haha

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thexfridax · 2 months

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D.E.B.S. at 20: a Queer Cult Classic

Bessie Yuill Photo: Sundance/WireImage

There is a secret film hidden within the shadowy sapphic corners of Letterboxd. Some call it escapist trash, some call it an underrated cult classic, fools call it a male fantasy. It calls itself D.E.B.S. As other early-2000s chick flicks like Charlie’s Angels and St. Trinian’s have been reevaluated and embraced for their candy-floss aesthetics and campy wit over the years, the lesbian community was quietly reclaiming its own equivalent with 2004’s D.E.B.S.

The precursor to contemporary high-concept lesbian films like Bottoms, the spy flick is filled with something that queer female moviegoers still often yearn for: fun. That includes Jordana Brewster and her era-defying eyebrows as the impeccably named supervillain Lucy Diamond, John Woo–style fight scenes that parody the action genre in the same way as Charlie’s Angels, and a cheerfully cheap aesthetic where spies run around in plaid schoolgirl skirts.

D.E.B.S. was written, directed, and edited by filmmaker Angela Robinson. While “unapologetically queer” might be an overused phrase, it does apply neatly to Robinson. The Chicago-born director’s first project was a short film called Chickula: Teenage Vampire, calling on the long history of vampiric queer women that began with 1872’s Carmilla.

Her love of playing with genre led her to later put a lesbian spin on the movie musical by writing the underappreciated Girltrash: All Night Long and exploring polyamory in a period biopic about the creators of Wonder Woman, Professor Marston and the Wonder Women. On the small screen, she also burnished her lesbian credentials by working on several episodes of The L Word.

When D.E.B.S. started life as a short film, Robinson described it as “a story about a trio of superspies who are all chicks. I love all the comic-book characters: Charlie’s Angels, Batman, Josie & the Pussycats … But I always wanted them to be gay and they never were, so I wrote my own.” Success at Sundance led to Sony snatching the short up and deciding that D.E.B.S. should be a full-length feature.

Two decades later, the joy of this movie lies in the details. The tone is immediately set by a gravelly voice-over telling us that there is a secret test hidden within the SAT to recruit young female superspies (and establishing that, like Bottoms, this is a film aware of genre archetypes and willing to push believability). Our main character Amy (Sara Foster) is an academic overachiever — like many lesbians overcompensating for their perceived failure to live up to social norms. Her perfect score on the secret SAT test makes it even more scandalous when she falls for the aforementioned supervillain Lucy Diamond.

Queer friend groups may delight over the nostalgic frosty eye shadow and lip gloss worn by the D.E.B.S. (which stands for “discipline, energy, beauty, strength,” naturally) at all times. Flip phones, CGI holographic screens, and Goldfrapp’s appearance on the soundtrack will also remind you that you’re watching a film made in the early 2000s. And many will squeal when they spot Holland Taylor, over a decade before she came out, as the academy’s head.

Admittedly, the special effects are goofy enough to cross over into comedy, especially when our girls are abseiling into a restaurant or climbing walls with plungers, and the lighting could be charitably described as resembling teen soap operas of that era. But the chemistry between Amy and Lucy is crackling enough that YouTube compilations of their scenes have racked up hundreds of thousands of views online. Their fun enemies-to-lovers plotline begins with the pair pointing guns at each other and quickly progresses to a whirlwind romance (the other D.E.B.S. think Amy’s been kidnapped and launch a national manhunt, just as many friend groups have had to organize rescue missions for lesbians on weeklong first dates).

You could argue that espionage serves as a metaphor for the closet and that Amy is such an effective spy because she’s used to lying to herself about her sexuality. But that almost seems like too much weight to put on this meringue confection of a genre spoof: Its campiness liberates the characters to inhabit a fun, exaggerated universe with no serious homophobia or consequences. Guns are used, but the so-called superspies have such consistently terrible aim that there are no real casualties. And Lucy Diamond’s supposedly nefarious crimes are all reversible — the murders pinned on her are revealed to be misunderstandings, and she returns all of her stolen goods in order to win Amy back.

When this live-action Totally Spies with a lesbian twist debuted, it only made $97,000 and was dismissed by critics. But there were enough moviegoing gays impressed by its snappy dialogue, fun romance, and stunning supporting cast (including Meagan Good, Jimmi Simpson, and Devon Aoki with a French accent) for its reputation to grow online over time. In forums and YouTube comment sections, young girls were asking, “Are there any lesbian films where they just fall in love and have fun and don’t die at the end?” Their answer was D.E.B.S.

#D.E.B.S.#2004 #Angela Robinson #LGBTQ+#Film #Queer joy #Criminally underrated #Cult classic #How is it #already 20 yrs later

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the-slumberparty · 10 days

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🍨Navy & Roo's Sundae Bar🍨

Welcome to Navy and Roo’s Sundae Bar!

*rules at the bottom*

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣, 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕡 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 (𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟) 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕥!

*Click below the cut to see more.*

🍧Vanilla: ‘only one bed’ - a classic flavour for a classic trope. Your characters are stranded and they have to share a sleeping space.

🍧Chocolate: a secret revealed – for a flavour as dark and rich as chocolate, you need a secret just as delicious. One (or more) of your characters has a dirty little secret revealed.

🍧Strawberry: berry picking – isn't it obvious? Fresh strawberries are best and berry picking is a sweet summertime activity. Your characters go berry picking, how their adventure ends is up to you. Fluffy, smutty, or even, dark.

🍧Neopolitan: love triangle – three's a crowd! Whether it’s poly, a crush on someone taken, a third wheel date, or a spicy threesome, there’s more to love in this combination.

🍧Black Cherry: enemies to lovers – a dark flavour has a sweet tang. So your characters go from one extreme to the other, hate to love.

🍧Mint Chocolate: the loner – mint chocolate is an acquired taste, so it is that one of your characters is of a similar flavour. A loner is brought out of their shell.

🍧Cookie Dough: bakery au – cookie dough proves that a bit of baking can make anything better. Your characters now live in a bakery au, whether they work there, or come as customers, they can’t resist the sweet aura.

🍧Cookies and Cream: soulmates – it's a match made in heaven and without one, the other just feels incomplete. Your characters are soulmates, but how their fates align is up to you.

🍧Rocky Road: rags to riches – it's been a long road. Cinderella, a lottery winner, a sudden inheritance. You decide how your character gets their windfall.

🍧Pistachio: rare pair – pistachio isn’t the most popular, but it’s there. Your pairing isn't a common one, but we know you can make it delicious.

🍧Bubble Gum: slow burn – a bit of chewing is in store. So we will anxiously savour the slow burn between your characters.

🍧Butter Pecan: mutual pining - a pecan isn’t the same as a pine nut, but it’s close enough. We want to see your characters yearn and even lust all while facing obstacles; whether their own fear of rejection, shyness, or social expectations, they just can’t get to each other.

🍧Birthday Cake: secret admirer – it doesn’t have to be your birthday to have this flavour. And your secret admirer leaves you gifts every day, but just won’t give you the one thing you desperately want: their identity.

🍧Butterscotch: childhood friends – every kid likes butterscotch. Your characters have been friends forever, but could they be more?

🍧French Vanilla: stranded/locked in - vanilla, but make it fancy. Forced proximity to the max. Whether your characters have to work together to escape or survive, or just need to wait out the night, they’re stuck together.

*toppings are optional, you do not need to use one for your submission.

🥄Sprinkles: a special event - a wedding, a party, a baby shower; make your setting a special get together.

🥄Chocolate Syrup: established relationship – your characters are already involved, with each other or someone else, adding a bit of messiness to the plot.

🥄Graham Crackers: flashback – a brief trip into the past reveals something important.

🥄Gummy Bears: bad luck – your character is just having a bout of misfortune.

🥄Bananas: eavesdropping – your characters overheard something they shouldn’t have, or misinterpreted a whisper.

🥄Cherries: meet-cute – this can be fluffy or a stereotypical first meeting gone wrong

🥄Toasted Almonds: heartbreak – your character is going through a heartbreak

🥄Oreos: marriage of convenience – your characters marry for the greater good, but maybe not their own

🥄Peanuts: revenge – someone's getting revenge

🥄Caramel: drunk/delirious/not in their right mind – one or more of your characters is not thinking straight

We encourage sundae bar patrons to share this post, both to boost this challenge, or for your own purposes (requests, etc). Thank you all and enjoy your ice cream!

This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

🍒Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

🍒For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

🍒We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

🍒 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

🍒Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

🍒Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

🍒This is an event for the summer, with a final due date of September 8 for late submissions.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it!

#writing challenge #creator challenge #sundae bar #navy and roo's sleepover #sleepover challenge #summer 2024 #summer challenge

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reiderwriter · 1 month

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reiderwriter 5k writing challenge

hello, my lovelies, and thank you so much for 5k followers~♡ it's been just under a year since I started writing on here, and it's been so fun interacting with everyone and writing for Spencer and the other members of the BAU team! I was a bit unprepared for some of my other milestones and threw some stuff together last minute for them, but I've been thinking about a writing challenge for a while and I finally decided to do it!

Please note: This is a writing challenge! All the prompts below are meant to inspire you to write your own fics and not as prompt requests for me. I hope you can use them as a starting point to write~♡

The theme for the challenge is:

daydreams and shooting stars`☆

There are two sets of prompts to choose from! The daydreams' prompts are based on classic fanfiction tropes that we know and live, and the shooting stars prompts are based on the zodiac signs. There are 12 prompts in each list, and you're welcome to mix and match prompts as you like! Maybe you'd like to combine your star sign with your favourite trope, or two particularly match well, or if you like a single prompt, you can just write for that. I don't mind if the fic is only very loosely based on the prompt, too, do whatever you'd like!

The writing challenge will run up until my 1 year writing anniversary, July 27th, so you have plenty of time to get your fics in! I'll be reblogging all the entries, and at the end, I'll add them to a recommendation list! Be sure to tag @reiderwriter in your fic, or use the hashtag #reidersdaydreams or #reidersshootingstars in your tags! I'll be tracking both~♡ You can submit as many entries as you like!

Rules for submissions will be at the end. Please read them before submitting~♡

without further ado, here are the prompt lists~☆

DAYDREAMS

ONLY ONE BED - a true classic in the sense that I will be reading only one bed fics down to the second I take my last breath. Feel free to invert this to "too many beds," or even "no beds at all, but somehow we're still cuddling," either way, I will read it and likely enjoy it greatly.

GRUMPY X SUNSHINE - which character is grumpy, which character is sunshine? my favourite grumpy x sunshine dynamics are the gloomy character trying their best to become more sunny after a tough life 🫡

FAKE DATING - we, in the criminal minds fandom, have written possibly every undercover mission possible to make our characters make out, but I'm coming in as a simple woman to ask - please do it again 🫶

OH. OH. - the plot revelations! Give me them! The sudden moments of clarity! I'm a fan, goddammit.

IDIOTS IN LOVE - there is nothing better than two huge dumbasses falling head over heels in love with each other in an "aw shucks" kind of way. Also, I'm an idiot, representation matters.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE - coffee shop AU? Soulmate AU? HANAHAKI AU? If someone could please un- or re- traumatise my favourite characters I will be eternally grateful

SECRET IDENTITY - give the character their Emily Prentiss Lauren Reynolds moment, or just make them dress like a clown for like 30 minutes. Both count.

MUTUAL PINING - This harkens back to idiots in love, but it's about the LONGING, it's about the PITIFUL STARES, it's about the BURNING PASSION.

SECRET RELATIONSHIP - my love of gossip makes me a sucker for secret relationship stories because I truly want to be in everyone's business. Character A and B are dating? Brilliant. It's a secret? BRILLIANT.

SICK FIC - your poor little meow meow has a cold. Or your poor little meow meow has been poisoned with anthrax. Or your poor little meow meow is dealing with possible symptoms of schizophrenia. Or your poor little meow meow has been shot-

PSYCHO X PSYCHO - reidams fans, this one's for you 🥰

ENEMIES TO LOVERS - half of my requests are enemies to lovers requests! Feel free to include rivals to lovers, lovers to enemies, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, or any such dynamic that your heart desires.

SHOOTING STARS:

Aries - "I burn for you. I can't sleep at night for wanting you. It's the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is."

Taurus - "There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."

Gemini - "There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne, it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting."

Cancer - "I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."

Leo - "There is no exquisite beauty… without some strangeness in the proportion."

Virgo - "They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."

Libra - "Somehow, we'll find it. The balance between whom we wish to be and whom we need to be. But for now, we simply have to be satisfied with who we are."

Scorpio - "She didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived."

Sagittarius - "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."

Capricorn - "There's a low-level, specific pain and having to accept that putting up with you requires a certain generosity of spirit in your loved ones."

Aquarius - "An education was a bit like a communicable sexual disease. It made you unsuitable for a lot of jobs, and then you had the urge to pass it on."

Pisces - "I think it's perfectly acceptable and rather admirable to be moderately delusional."

Rules:

I'm accepting reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fics for this challenge. It can feature any Criminal Minds character or any character from any fandom you write for. I assume a lot of people will stick with CM, but feel free to write for whoever you choose!

Please tag me in your entries or send the link to me in a DM. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge. Again, the tags I'm tracking are #reidersdaydreams and #reidersshootingstars ♡

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I will not endorse, nor do I want to read smut written by minors. I will check the ages of accounts posting smut.

For smut or angst fics that could include triggers, please include a content warning above the fic so we can be aware before reading!!

Enjoy!!

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angels-fantasy · 2 months

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Girlyyyy I love your writing I just binged all your fics 😭😭😭 but anyway, I have a request.

Yknow how Bakugou is a comfort character to a lot of people, what if Reader was his favourite character from his favourite show (maybe a slice of life or romance anime where we're the second lead or a character who's not the main) and Bakugou listens to asmr audios of us or actively follows many accounts who write fanfictions about us and simp for us like we do for him 😔

This has been living rent free in my mind, so please indulge me 😔😔

You're His Favorite Character HeadCanons (Request)

Details: this is just me yapping tbh

Word Count: 202

imagining bakugou simp over someone is actually so funny LMAOO i love this idea thank you for it your mind is so powerful. btw i'm doing this in a more head-canon style if that's okay! i honestly couldn't really think of a plot for this but i really liked the idea 😭 if u ever wanna keep talking about it tho you can definitely message me or send more stuff to my inbox!! i love talking so don't be shy

firstly i feel like when he first starts watching anime, he'd watch more action packed ones, but slowly got into romance after he found the anime you were in!!

i think if it was a romance anime that'd be really cute. though you wouldn't be the main character, but the main characters best friend or something so you don't have a love interest bc Bakugou would probably get jealous tee hee

also if he read fics about you, he'd def go for some classic fluff me thinks. or maybe like an enemies to lovers!! i think he'd like a little angst with it as well, bc he's an angsty boy

i think that he would read all about your character and rewatch clips of you on youtube, yk? idk thats what i do for characters i really like lolol.

he'd probably be really secretive about his crush on you and make sure to not let anyone know he watches y/n asmr videos 😩 omg and if your character has merch he'd def buy it, maybe even a figure or something too!

but ultimately he's just obsessed with you and thinks your gorgeous and you guys are in love in his head 😍

authors note

i'm so sorry this was so short 😞 i hope you still enjoyed it! thank you sm for your message :)

tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #anime #writers on tumblr #fanfic #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #my hero academia #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo headcanons

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beartrice-inn-unnir · 11 months

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10. What is your favorite genre book to recommend to someone who doesn’t usually like that genre?

Usually when people ask me for a rec for a genre they don’t usually like, they are asking for sci-fi, and I start by trying to figure out different access points based on what they already like. I’m not much of a hard sci-fi person, tending more to the space opera and political thrillers, so here’s a few “if you like x, maybe try y”:

If you like romance, give Everina Maxwell’s Winter’s Orbit a try. It’s definitely sci-fi in setting and plot, but it also hits nicely in the formulaic patterns of a arranged-marriage, strangers-to-lovers story that will help you through it even if the sci-fi elements are throwing you off. The author has another similar book that increases the sci-fi elements and is enemies-to-lovers as well, so if you like Winter’s Orbit, Ocean’s Echo is a good next step.

If you like non-fiction, The Martian by Andy Weir is a great pick. I have multiple friends who got into reading again as adults via The Martian. It’s well-written, well-grounded, funny, and very sci-fi. If you’ve already read it, then maybe give To Be Taught if Fortunate by Becky Chambers a try. It can be described with all the same adjectives, plus it’s a short novella, so if you’re hesitant, it’s less intimidating.

If you like mysteries or political thrillers, boy is there a lot of great sci-fi out there for you. The crux of a lot of sci-fi is space or high-tech settings with a plot that asks questions about personhood, and that mixes really well with detectives and spies wandering around trying to solve problems and find truths. Try Fugitive Telemetry by Martha Wells (it’s partway through a series of great books and novellas, but that one’s the most traditional mystery plot) or A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine (ambassador solving her predecessor’s mysterious death while trying to do his job)(I’d also recommend this one if you read a lot of classics) EDIT: just realized I mistyped - book 1 by Arkady Martine is A Memory Called Empire.

If YA/ Bildungsromanen/ New Adult figuring the world out through trial and error is often your jam, try Provenance by Ann Leckie (for the kid who really wants to do things right) or The Warrior’s Apprentice by Lois McMaster Bujold (for another kid who wants to do things right, but is also a high-energy chaos gremlin).

If you like fantasy, you probably already have read some sci-fi; it’s all under the speculative fiction umbrella and genres are vague anyway. All the same, I know this is the Locked Tomb Website, but give Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir a shot (it’s got magic and mayhem and an epic locked-room whodunnit mystery). The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord is also good - it has a team of people traveling together and thinking about morals and discovering new abilities, plus some romance.

I’m sure there’s lots of genres I’m forgetting right now, but feel free to send me another ask for any specific one!

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jungkookschin · 3 months

Text

demigod trials: fates intertwined

synopsis: you met jungkook at camp half-blood when you were 10 years old. since then, your fates have been infinitely intertwined.

word count: 20k

pairing: son of ares!jungkook x daughter of hephaestus!reader

genre: camp half blood au, percy jackson au, demigod au, childhood friends to lovers, exes to lovers , enemies to lovers, jungkook is sooo in love, jungkook is emotionally constipated, THEY FALL INTO TARTARUS TOGETHERR, jk and y/n are supposed to be reminiscent of percabeth, y/n can wield fire 😳 , ANGSTYY, taehyung as a son of poseidon, namjoon son of athena, mingyu son of jupiter, mina daughter of venus,

warnings: death, angst, blood, kinda gruesome, SMUT (not explicit at all- it's told more in a poetic way), v card loss, many percy jackson references, character death (she comes back to life)

author's note

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 3.5 | chapter four

“Missed me, inferno princess?”

Jungkook stands in the entranceway of your hotel room, soft strands of fringe falling into his piercing brown eyes like the delicate curtains of a war chariot. He stares at you smugly, the most classic Jungkook smile etched across his lips.

Jungkook is a demigod, meaning that one of his parents is a Greek god while the other is a mortal. In Jungkook’s case, his celestial father is Ares, the god of war- also associated with brutality and chaos.

Those vaguely familiar with Jungkook would argue that he is the poster child for everything his father represents:

A ruthless warrior on the battlefield, his every step echoes the thunderous march of Ares, causing monsters and enemies alike to flee like waves of the Red Sea. Thick and muscular biceps you can’t even wrap both hands around, a sleeve of tattoos running around the circumference of his arm, and natural affinity to any weapon- effortless wielding a spatha, spear, javelin, or knife with precision and ease.

Jungkook also rides a Harley-Davidson motorcycle and has had the occasional fling with a daughter of Aphrodite- all echoing behaviors of his father.

You beg to differ.

To you, Jungkook is love. Jungkook is your spring solace after a grueling winter, Jungkook churns the gears in your brain and heart that stop functioning. Jungkook is your serenity after war- countless wars by which you both narrowly escaped the clutches of death.

His presence fills your heart with the warmest, most nostalgic sensation. Endorphins fill the hotel hallway, and suddenly you’re 14, savoring the fragrance of strawberry fields with Jungkook’s large hands on your waist as you soar on a pegasus over the harbor of Long Island.

You met Jungkook at Camp Half-Blood when you were ten years old. After your fifth grade volleyball coach turned into a giant cyclops and tried to eat you, you found yourself at Camp Half-Blood, a summer camp for children of Greek gods and goddesses.

Nestled within Camp Half-Blood's grounds are the children of around 20 Greek gods, including the 12 Olympians and various minor deities. The enchanting aroma of strawberry fields wafts through the entire camp. As you explore, you'll find an amphitheater, Pegasus stables, a sword-fighting arena, and even magical cups and plates that intuitively read your mind, materializing the food of your desires. Don't forget the ever-so thrilling challenge of scaling the lava wall, which almost killed you, like, ten times.

It took you a while to adjust to the bustling life in Camp Half-Blood.

Despite being a volleyball player, your athleticism waned in comparison to the other demigods. You sucked at archery, struggled with sparring, and could barely stand under the weight of armor.

However, you quickly discovered that you excelled in the forge.

Before Hephaestus even claimed you as his, you spent hours cooped up in the forge, constructing jewelry, engineering random gadgets and gizmos, and printing 3-D sculptures of your favorite anime characters.

One day, when you were scaling up the climbing/lava wall, your left foot slipped from one of the ledges and a wave of lava washed over you. Gasps ripple through the crowd of demigods, and you swore you heard the Hades kids sigh because they had the unfortunate obligation of preparing burials for campers.

Once the wave washed over, absolutely nothing happened. You were still hanging onto the climbing wall with both hands, and your feet found solace back on the stone ledges.

You heard more gasps, and everybody began pointing at something above your head. When you looked up you saw a red fiery hammer, the symbol of Hephaestus, the god of metalworking, volcanoes, and fire.

Jungkook was only ten years old, but his voice resonated louder than anybody else’s.

“By the blade of Ares,” Jungkook muttered, an awestruck look morphing into an amused grin gracing his lips, “our little warrior is Hephaestus’s kid!”

Before inferno princess, he coined the nickname little warrior when you failed to even lift a Celestial Bronze sword. At ten years old, Jungkook always teased you and found the best ways to get under your skin.

You have a stupid theory that you’re genetically inclined to dislike Jungkook. After all, his father was one half of a millenia long affair with Hephaestus’s wife and your stepmom (?) Aphrodite.

Jungkook, on the other hand, might actually be genetically predisposed to picking on you for how easily his dad bitched yours.

Anyways, what made you even more special was that you wielded the ability to control fire.

The last child of Hephaestus who had the ability to do so died in the 1700s, meaning that you were a prodigy, an anomaly. You immediately met with the camp director Chiron to discuss your special abilities, placing you in elite training classes with none other than the Ares cabin and your favorite person Jungkook.

The head counselor in the Hephaestus cabin, Atticus Gonzales (he is dead now), personally trained you in the forge, instructing you to engineer and construct contraptions that were lightyears above the proficiency of a ten-year-old.

One morning, as you get out of bed, you spot a toolbelt resting on your bedside.

From H

A gift from your father.

Ten year old you marveled at the toolbelt before wrapping it around your waist. You quickly discovered its celestial magic, capable of summoning any tool you desired or envisioned. However, it had its constraints. It couldn't magically produce enchanted weapons; its abilities were limited to mortal tools like screwdrivers and mallets.

Your first task was to forge a Celestial Bronze knife for none other than the boy who miffed you like no other, Jungkook.

Celestial bronze is a special metal forged on Mount Olympus, the home of the gods. According to Greek mythology, it is the one of the only metals that is capable of vanquishing monsters, meaning that demigods would have to wield Celestial Bronze weapons.

As a ten year old, forging a Celestial Bronze knife was not an easy feat, and it was even more painful with a ten year old Jungkook over your shoulder the entire time. You wanted to strangle him the entire time.

You first had to invoke the blessing of Hephaestus, offering a sacrifice to your father to guide you through the forging process. Getting Jungkook to just sit still was a quest on its own; he wouldn’t stop bouncing around the forge and you were horrified that he would knock something over or set the place on fire.

Next, you had to heat and melt the celestial bronze, a task you were instructed to complete with your own fire.

Though it was established that you wielded flame manipulation, it was difficult to spark your own flame without the assistance of gas or a lighter. You must have sat in the forge for an entire day, grunting and groaning as you willed yourself to spark a flame from your fingers.

Jungkook was absolutely no help at all. He was the least encouraging person and kept asking to place the Celestial Bronze in a preheated fire.

Eventually, you willed yourself to ignite a spark, and the fire spread over the entire sheet of metal. You and Jungkook were so thrilled that you actually hugged before staring at each other uncomfortably and backing away.

Next, you shaped and formed the blade in accordance with Jungkook's wishes, which wasn’t so easy because he kept changing his mind about the shape of the blade. Afterwards, you quenched the blade in water before enchanting the knife with a protective spell.

15 years later, three wars, countless battles, a plethora of dead monsters, and yours and Jungkook’s lives are still forever intertwined.

You and Jungkook are 25, and you have been to hell and back together, literally.

The answer is yes. You did miss Jungkook and your face dissolves with utter relief as you run into his arms and melt into the safety of his embrace.

You hadn’t seen Jungkook in an entire year. Last year, your father Hephaestus asked if you wanted to spend a year with him in the forge of Mount Olympus, working on a top secret engineering project.

You had just returned, requesting that your father open a direct portal to Camp Jupiter, the camp for Roman demigods.

Camp Jupiter stands as a training ground for Roman demigods on the West Coast, offering a structured and disciplined environment akin to the Roman legions. Adjacent to this formidable camp, New Rome emerges as a concealed city, a testament to ancient Roman architecture combined with modern amenities.

Camp Jupiter differs from Camp Half-Blood because New Rome is a fully operational city where former members of the Roman legion, upon completing their service, could choose to reside. Graduated members of the Roman legion had the options of going to university, building a family, and seeking employment within the city, which also provided a barrier against Roman monsters.

Currently, you and Jungkook are in Camp Jupiter for a special gathering with fellow demigods in your generation and the Praetors of the Roman Legion. The Praetors Mina and Mingyu are essentially the commanders of the Roman army, overseeing operations and making crucial decisions for the camp's well-being.

Yours and Jungkook’s generation of demigods is deemed particularly special because yours is the first generation of demigods to live beyond your teens. Typically, demigods were monster bait and were either eaten or murdered before they reached their 20’s.

Yours and Jungkook’s generation changed the tide, with almost 100 demigods reaching their mid 20’s, dubbing this the beginning of the Golden Era of the Demigods.

For you and your friends to be called to a meeting with the Praetors- it concerned you slightly. But after all you had been through, nothing seemed to scare you. Instead, all you’re thinking about is how much you missed Jeon Jungkook.

You haven’t seen Jungkook in a year, and you take a moment to relish the man who’s been to Tartarus and back with you.

Jungkook’s in ripped jeans, combat boots, and a seemingly brand new orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. He looks the same, except a little leaner, and maybe a little taller.

“Missed you a lot, Jungkook the Relentless,” you muse in return.

Jungkook’s features crumble in disgust, before he, in his dramatic nature, theatrically flicks his head back, soft and wispy strands falling back onto his head to reveal his handsome forehead.

“Inferno princess is cute,” he claims, a grin peeking from the frown he just could never maintain around you, “Whatever you said,” he pauses, “It lacks creativity, it’s not clever, it’s not smart. I give it an F.”

You scoff amusedly, nudging his chest with your left shoulder before marching past him.

“Whatever, stupid.”

“Wait up, inferno princess,” he calls from behind, speedily catching up in a single stride, “Why didn’t you answer any of my Iris messages? Didn’t miss me at all over the past year?”

You shrug, pressing the down button on the elevator as you and Jungkook step in. “My dad probably blocked you from calling. You know how he feels about you.”

Muzak fills the elevator, and Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Just say you didn’t want to see me, inferno princess. Hephaestus loves me, personally thanked me for keeping you safe all these years.”

The noise that leaves your mouth falls in between a scoff and a gag. “You? Kept me safe? You would’ve been dead in seventh grade if it weren’t for me,” you tease.

“Gotta give it to you there, inferno princess. This knife has killed more monsters than you’ve ever seen in your life,” he teases, unsheathing the Celestial Bronze knife you forged for him when you were ten years old. He always keeps it on him, and it makes you happy because it means he still cares

You lean against the elevator railing and raise a brow at him. “Is that so?”

He smiles smugly at you, the same stupid Jungkook smile that never changed after all these years. “It definitely is so.”

He smiles at you, toying with his lip as his eyes shamelessly glaze over you. His features fall into a pout. He opens his arms again, and you waddle over for another hug. “Gods inferno princess, I missed you,” he whispers,” You ignored me for a year-”

The elevator door swings open, and you’re greeted by a greatly amused Namjoon and Taehyung.

Taehyung whistles. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

You gently shove Jungkook away with your forearm and greet Taehyung and Namjoon with a huge hug, each arm encircling one of their necks.

Just as it’s been a year since you’ve seen Jungkook, it’s also been a year since you’ve seen Taehyung and Namjoon. You met Taehyung, son of Poseidon, when you were 12 years old and he stumbled into Camp Half-Blood after single handedly bringing down the Minotaur.

Namjoon, son of Athena, came to Camp Half-Blood a couple years after Jungkook. After devising the strategy to defeat Kronos in the Battle of Manhattan, he was given the honor of redesigning Mount Olympus in accordance to his architectural preferences.

Being in Olympus for a year, you really were able to relish in Namjoon’s creations. The Greek-style temples maintained their traditional charm with innovative twists. You had the opportunity to walk through the most beautiful of gardens, special flowers bred by Namjoon specifically for Mount Olympus.

You’ve known them for so long that they’re practically your brothers. Both are wearing Camp Half-Blood shirts- Namjoon’s is a little tight and tattered so you reckon it’s the same shirt he adorned in high school.

Everyone’s back together. A warm wave of nostalgia washes over you, and you feel at home.

“So little Ms. Olympus is finally back to the mortal world?” Taehyung teases, meandering around playfully as he lazily swings an arm around your shoulder.

“Oh? What about Mr. Olympus over here? I ran into him all the time up there,” you gesticulate towards Namjoon who scoffs playfully and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You worked with Namjoon occasionally on Mount Olympus to construct his architectural plans for the godly city, so it hadn’t been that long since you’ve run into him.

“Didn’t get the chance to live there like you did. Gods, was I envious of you when I heard you were moving! The gods all know I would be the better option.”

You shoot Namjoon a theatrically annoyed glance, rolling your eyes the same way Jungkook does.

“I’m kidding,” Namjoon asserts, “I’m infinitely proud of you and all your accomplishments.”

You smile, pressing the friendliest of kisses on Namjoon’s cheeks. “Thanks Joon, love you the most.”

“Yea, well,” Taehyung begins, “You’re bearing witness to the only demigod to ever take up residence in Tartarus and Mount Olympus, so you better put some respect on her name.”

You grin, rolling your eyes as you press another kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Tae.”

You momentarily pause, shifting your gaze from Namjoon and Taehyung to Jungkook. “What? You guys aren’t gonna say hi to him?”

Taehyung makes a psh sound with his lips, “I see this guy everyday.” He skips over to Jungkook, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You want a kiss too?” Taehyung teases, about to press a kiss to his cheeks to which Jungkook pushes Taehyung away with his infinite strength.“Gross, dude.”

Taehyung smiles, his combat boots skipping against the gravel of New Rome. “Gods, I feel like we’re 17 again- discovering all this Camp Jupiter shit, meeting the Romans- doesn’t it all bring you nostalgia?” Taehyung continues, carelessly skipping through the gravel with you.

“Remember when we were 14?” you add, “And you, me, and Joon had to go through that Labyrinth?” you recall, chills running down your spine at the very memory.

“Gods, that was the worst,” Namjoon adds, “And you broke your ankle so I had to carry you through the labyrinth? Yea, I remember that.”

“Hey, at least, you got the laptop of Daedalus,” you add, “I mean, that thing even had an international credit card programmed onto it, and gods remember the fake ID’s? We got so drunk on your 18th birthday- the party ponies came and everything. That was ridiculous.”

Jungkook cheekily smiles at the memory, and Taehyung detects it immediately. “What, Jeon? Smiling because you remember how shitfaced you were? You could’ve gotten a DUI on a pegasus if it weren’t for me.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile, “Gods Taehyung, you’re dumb.”

Taehyung shrugs, “But I’m your favorite.”

Reunited with your friends, you’re home.

Over the years, you’ve observed the multifaceted aspects of Jungkook’s character.

There were special occasions by which he became rigidly serious- his pupils morphing into flames, a feature he clearly adopted from his father.

You witnessed this firsthand when you were 13 when you and Jungkook were on a quest now dubbed the Quest of the Eternal Night.

Los Angeles, the city of Angels home to all the glittering allure of Hollywood became shrouded in darkness. The mortals all assumed the famine was attributed to an extended solar eclipse when in reality it was the Greek monster Lamia who intended to conceal the entire world with darkness, starting with Los Angeles.

Once a beloved queen of Zeus, Lamia’s life went to shit when Hera, out of jealousy, mercilessly murdered Lamia’s children. Overwhelmed with grief, Lamia transformed into a child-devouring monster with a snake-like lower body. From the waist up, Lamia was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever encountered. Lamia resembled the little mermaid, her long orange hair reminiscent of warmth from the sun, perfectly framing her face and enhancing her mesmerizing glow.

At the time, nobody in Camp Half-Blood was aware of the true nature of the threat, just that it was most likely a monster.

Given the prevailing uncertainty, the Oracle presented herself at the daily campfire, revealing the prophecy to the entirety of Camp Half-Blood:

In shadows' grasp, the forge's child shall dance,

Beside the warrior, fire's fierce advance.

Through the endless night, a tandem in step they weave as one,

A celestial key, by blood begun.

Within shadows, echoes of a tragic tale,

Redemption blooms as darkness lifts its veil

In an instant, everyone's gaze shifted to you.

“In shadows' grasp, the forge's child shall dance,

Beside the warrior, fire's fierce advance.”

Not a single camper could contest that this was about you. Forge’s daughter, fire’s fierce advance- it dawned on you that the weight was on your shoulders, and you may be heading towards your impending doom.

A fight broke out between Jungkook, Namjoon, and Jinyoung son of Hermes over who would accompany you on the quest. Beside the warrior, fire’s fierce advance, indicating that the quest called for a warrior to your side.

Through the endless night, a tandem in step they weave as one,

What made you feel especially at unease was that the prophecy explicitly called for two demigods as opposed to three. In Greek mythology, the number three was associated with balance and completeness. Three celestial spheres governed the world- Zeus ruled the sky, Poseidon ruled the sea, and Hades presided over the underworld. There were three fates that determined the destinies of mortals and deities. The guard dog of the underworld Cerberus, had three heads.

Three was a lucky number in Greek mythology, so why did this quest call for two?

“You fucking kidding me?” Jungkook mocked, crossing his arms as he stared at Jinyoung in disdain. He pointed at Jinyoung, singling him out in front of the entire camp. “This guy is a candidate for the quest? He’s a son of Hermes. All he does is send letters and shit.”

Thirteen year old Jungkook was a menace to society.

Chiron, the camp activities director who was also a centaur (horse from the waist down and human from the waist up), cleared his throat and cast Jungkook a look that screamed boy, sit down.

Jungkook clenched his jaw, acquiescing nonetheless, sitting on a log while glaring bitterly into the campfire.

The night sky stretched above, adorned with a myriad of constellations depicting Greek heroes such as Hercules, Perseus, and Achilles. It was like the stars were mocking him, casting doubt that he would be selected for this quest.

But he had to be chosen. He was positive he was the only demigod equipped with the skills to keep you safe on your quest. Jinyoung and Namjoon didn’t hold a candle to him.

The prophecy called for a warrior, and he was a warrior. He was the most talented offspring of his father, the literal god of warriors. It had to be him.

Namjoon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “With all due respect,” he begins, “We’re not going to send Jungkook’s dumbass on a quest alone with Y/N. He’d get both of them killed with his recklessness.”

Jungkook didn’t take that well. “I won’t,” he sneers, gesticulating with his hands dramatically, “None of you guys know Y/N like I do. I’m a warrior, and I’m going to protect her.” he states matter-a-factly.

Namjoon was probably one of the only demigods unphased by Jungkook’s abrasion.

“Jeon, you might be a warrior, but there’s absolutely nothing in that head of yours. Sure, the prophecy calls for a warrior, but not a complete imbecile like you,” Namjoon spits, rising to his feet. “This quest needs someone with the capacity for strategic warfare, which my mother is the goddess of,” he declares, “The city is covered in darkness, so we’ll have to move around strategically. Your dumbass would walk straight to the enemy.”

Jungkook stands at that, immediately squaring Namjoon up, hardened pupils daring Namjoon to back up his words with action.

“He’s right, Jungkook,” Jinyoung adds, “You want to go on the quest because you want to protect Y/N. I want to go on this quest because I know our assets are compatible and that we work well together.”

“Y/N and I have the best chemistry out of everyone in the camp.” A bold claim by Jungkook, eliciting a few gasps from the gallery, and you tilt your head because you don’t believe that to necessarily be true.

Jinyoung stands, “You know what Jeon? You think you’re the shit because your dad’s the god of war. Even as a Hermes kid, I guarantee I can beat you in sword to sword combat,” Jinyoung unsheathes his Celestial Bronze sword, and Jungkook’s pupils glitter against its shine.

“Winner goes on the quest,” Jungkook obliges, unsheathing his own Celestial Bronze sword, a wave of conviction clouding his aura.

Chiron stomps his hooves on the terrain, demanding the attention of the camp.

“That’s enough,” he declares sternly, “There will be no fighting. It will be Y/N’s choice. She gets to choose.”

All eyes drift towards you, putting you on the spot.

You open and close your mouth repeatedly like a dying fish, not having a single clue how to respond. You wish Chiron would decide for you. You see yourself being fine with all three candidates, but you don’t even have the courage to consider making a decision.

Jungkook cuts you off.

“I swear on the River Styx that I will complete this quest successfully, protect Y/N, and return safely.”

Jungkook’s sudden declaration elicits a collective gasp from the campers.

Swearing on the River Styx meant making a promise so serious it couldn't be broken. The River Styx was a sacred river in the Underworld, considered to be a boundary between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. Oaths sworn by the river were binding and unbreakable.

Swearing on the River Styx was incredibly wreckless of Jungkook, and he suffered severe reprimanding from Chiron for doing something so callous.

And that was basically it. Jungkook already swore on the River Styx so he had to go through with the quest. That made your choice a lot easier, since you were pretty much indifferent to choosing your partner.

Jungkook didn’t lie. He most certainly kept his binding oath.

After navigating through the mazes of Los Angeles, scaling the Hollywood sign, and coursing through the animatronics of Disneyland, you and Jungkook encountered your final foe, Lamia.

Lamia had the ability to psychologically torture her victims, eventually revealing that Jungkook was the perfect candidate for the quest because the psychological torture had no effect on him.

You liked to joke that it was because he didn’t have a brain.

Lamia cast a curse upon you, plunging you into a trance of your most haunting memories. You were transported into the scene of your mother's murder the previous year, forced to relive the moment a million times over.

The flame you sparked from your fingers as a makeshift torch immediately went out, and you were rendered a screaming crying mess as you rolled on the floor with your fingernails scraping against the pavement.

The only light you perceived was the light reflected off Jungkook’s Celestial Bronze knife, the same one you forged years before when you were ten years old.

Seeing you like that, Jungkook became so angry, his pupils exploded into flames and he immediately decapitated Lamia, returning light to sunny Los Angeles and sending Lamia into the depths of Tartarus.

When you were 19, the Earth mother Gaia, a primordial deity and the very essence of the Earth awakened from her slumber. Her goal was to overthrow the gods, wipe out humanity, and destroy Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood so that she and her offspring, the giants and monsters, would reign over the world.

Obviously, that wasn’t good so you and six other demigods ventured on a quest to the homelands Rome and Greece to incapacitate Gaia. You were responsible for engineering a flying magical warship to transport said group of seven demigods to Rome and Greece- and it was arguably the largest project you’ve ever taken on.

You still remember when the Oracle presented herself and read the prophecy aloud to the entire camp.

"In realms of ancient twilight, seven shall heed the call,

To storm or fire, the Earth shall fall.

Forge’s armor, a shield against fate,

Through the ancient homelands, they navigate.

A choice profound, in shadows deep,

To banish Gaia's wrath in fiery sweep.

In storm's embrace or fire's light,

Seven demigods shall rewrite the ancient night."

After the Oracle announced the prophecy, you felt personally victimized and were ready to throw the towel in to drown yourself in the Atlantic Ocean.

To storm or fire the Earth shall fall?

Nothing was definitive, but that basically meant a child of Zeus or Hephaestus would be designated to vanquish Gaia, and since you’re the only child of Hephaestus who can wield fire, you were left in a sheer state of terror.

Forge’s armor?

There was no doubt in your mind that it had something to do with you- and your intuition was accurate.

You would soon be embarking solo into the depths of the Hephaestion (temple of Hephaestus) to recover the armor your father forged for the Olympians in the original war against the Titans. You needed this armor to defeat Gaia’s offspring, the giants, because the armor bestowed its wearer with the divine capabilities of their demigod parent.

That was great and all, but you didn’t understand why you had to travel solo to retrieve it. You didn’t know what perils lay ahead, and to your luck, there was another prophecy- just for you. The fates consistently chose you for perilous quests- you were obviously their favorite.

"In forge's embrace, beneath Hephaestion's grace,

A child of fire seeks the lost, a sacred trace.

Through tunnels deep, where riddles guard the way,

Guardians forged in flame demand a price to pay.

The armor forged for gods, in shadows it lay.

Alone she tread, the quest's weight to bear,

A solitary journey through trials and despair."

A solitary journey through trials and despair- how exciting!

You wanted nothing more than to be with Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook, and all your friends. If you had it your way, you would bring the other six demigods with you, but the prophecy made it clear: Alone she tread, the quest’s weight to bear.

Your final moments may very well be under the ruins of the Hephaestion, and no matter how you screamed and cried, there would be nobody to save you, just miles and miles of dirt and terrain.

By this time, it had been a year since Jungkook started riding his Harley Davidson motorcycle.

The motorcycle was a gift from his father, and was presented to Jungkook in the form of a Rolex watch. With a press of a button, the watch unfurled and morphed into a sleek Harley Davidson motorcycle.

Jungkook was a talented rider, maneuvering swiftly through the hills and slopes of Athens, gripping the handles so tightly that his knuckles became white and the wounds on his hands reopened.

You clung tightly to his waist, finding solace as you rested your cheek against the back of his leather jacket, reveling in the warmth of his body while you had the chance.

You were scared out of your mind.

Jungkook evidently feels the same way, the look of apprehension on his face something you will never forget. He grimaces, utter trepidation enveloping his features as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes reflect a sense of unease. His hands, once steady, now betray a subtle tremor, and the air seems to thicken with the weight of his anxiety.

Braking abruptly at the entrance of the Hephaestion, the motorcycle veers sharply, casting dirt onto the ancient ruins. It's his way of telling Hephaestus to go fuk himself for having his nineteen-year-old daughter tread through the temple’s ruins to her potential doom. With a spiteful glare at the ruins, he mounts his vehicle and helps you off the motorcycle, watching as it folds back into a Rolex watch on his wrist.

His heart melts when he sees how glossy your eyes are. Jungkook hates the gods- nothing but deadbeat parents who fucked and reproduced like animals. He hates this stupid quest.

For a very brief moment, Jungkook dares to imagine life as a normal person. A luxury he would never experience in his life: normalcy, and he knows it’s pointless to covet for what he doesn’t have but he can’t help but desperately delude himself into thinking that he’s dropping you off at class, your first day of work, to hang out with your friends, and not on a dangerous quest.

In an alternative universe, University Y/N and Jungkook would be a campus couple. Gods, if the circumstances were different he would have confessed years ago. He just hasn’t because the very act of loving is selfish when you’re a demigod.

Jungkook can’t confess to you and then die the very next day. And assuming that you do feel the same way and choose to become his girlfriend- he just doesn’t know if he’ll randomly drop off the face of the Earth and he can’t bear to think of you just waiting for him, sobbing on your knees by the barriers of Camp Half-Blood.

Perhaps he’s projecting his deep-rooted fears onto you. If Jungkook ever gets a taste of you then loses you- he knows he would never be the same.

Gods, it’s cynical, but it’s true.

He pulls himself out of his little trance.

“Y/N.”

Jungkook looks at you, sees that you’re trembling- scared shitless.

“Take this.” He slides off wristwatch and puts it onto yours.

The gesture has you tearing up, and once a single tear falls from your lashes, Jungkook’s brows furrow thoroughly. “Y/N. You’re one of the strongest demigods I’ve ever fucking met. You’re going to make it through. You’re going to find the armor, and once you’re done, we’re going to take care of it.”

Jungkook sounds confident in his conviction, and it almost rubs off on you.

You pout. “I-I I have to fight too.”

“No. No you don’t. I’m going to fight for you. Look. If you’re not safe, take the watch off. It’ll magically appear on my wrist, so I’m going to assume that you’re not okay and go in there if it comes back to me.”

“Except you can’t do that,” Namjoon points out from above. A glorious, beautiful white pegasus lands adjacent to you, neighing and rearing on its hind legs. Its two passengers dismount the pegasus and intervene between you and Jungkook.

“You can’t interfere with the prophecy, Jungkook. That’s going to make things worse.”

Jungkook’s body uncomfortably stiffens, and his jaw clenches. “So you’re going to let Y/N in there alone? We have to do something about it.”

Taehyung sighs, joining the conversation. “Kook, if something happens, we’ll know. We’ll sense if something happens to her. You’re going to make things worse if you follow her. You can’t.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m gonna keep the watch. It’s the same thing as bringing a weapon in there. It’s fine- and who knows- I might have to ride the motorcycle over a volcano or some stupid shit like that,” you mutter, “But Jungkook, you can’t come after me. If I die, then it’ll be by the gods’ will, but I swear on the River Styx that I’l get you that armor, even if that means my life is at risk.”

Jungkook’s expression hardens at that.

“Don’t say that,” Namjoon mutters, “You’re going to jinx it.”

Taehyung sighs, pulling you in for a hug. He rests his head against your neck, and you can feel his hot breath tickling your skin. “Good luck Y/N. You got this. You’re the most capable demigod I know. You got your tool belt?” He asks, pulling away and checking your waist.

Sure enough, your tool belt was wrapped securely around your hips, just like it always was. You nod.

“Then you’re going to succeed,” Taehyung declares, “You got that thing strapped on you? Nobody can do shit to you,” his gentle smirk comforts you.

Namjoon hugs you next, pulling away to place his glasses on the bridge of your nose. Namjoon’s glasses, a gift from his mother that allows the user to see the most successful strategy for any situation.

You scowl. “Aren’t you going to need this?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I have my brain and that’s all I need. You need this.”

You smile and face Jungkook. No words could convey the emotions on his face. He approaches you and hugs you tightly, eyes squeezing shut in anxiety and anguish once you melt in his embrace. “You got this, inferno princess. Let’s give hell to those stupid giants.”

You nod at them, running off into the ruins of the temple of Hephaestus.

You face countless trials, mechanical automatrons, and fire obstacles that only you could have ever survived. And you were right- you did have to ride Jungkook’s motorcycle over a volcano. Crazy.

With the armor in your hands, you throw off the wristwatch, knowing that Jungkook would appear in minutes. Since the quest was complete, you had every right to call on your friends, and you knew they would arrive without fail.

Anyway, had you known that just beneath the thin layer of dirt lay a pit straight to Tartarus, you wouldn't have called for him. The magical warship you engineered appears above you, and Jungkook plummets onto the dirt like a meteor.

Mingyu son of Jupiter, Mina daughter of Venus, Rose daughter of Apollo, Namjoon, and Taehyung secure the armor and load it onto the ship. Its celestial glow was nearly too much for the interior of the warship to handle.

Although the armor was safely loaded onto the ship, you weren't as fortunate.

The ground underneath you cracked, and you plummeted into a pit that led straight to Tartarus, the deepest pit of the Underworld where monsters, titans, and giants are imprisoned. Jungkook almost immediately jumps in after you, prompting the others to meet you guys at the Doors of Death.

You both fell for what seemed like hours, Jungkook’s strong arms securely wrapped around you, holding you tightly. You don’t know if it was days or hours, but you plummeted for what felt like forever.

He refuses to let you go no matter how weak his arms become, and despite how fast you plummet, Jungkook tells you that it’s going to be okay every 1000 feet of your rapid descent.

The atmosphere in Tartarus is noxious, causing boils to erupt on your skin, burns to sear, and intense headaches to course through your body- even before you slam into the terrain of Tartarus.

Given that you survive falling into an infinity high pit, you and Jungkook are likely to die from the toxicity in the air.

After what feels like a millenia, you perceive the ground from thousands of feet in the air.

“Jungkook!” you scream, “Wrap your arms around my waist!”

He obliges, maneuvering your body so your back is pressed against his chest.

Then, you get the work.

Retrieving nylon fabric and sturdy rope from your toolbelt, you intertwine the rope around the fabric, fashioning the parachute's framework with the added support of metal tubing. Handing Jungkook a specially crafted two-person harness, he allows you to slip into the loops before he follows suit.

You attach the harness to the metal framework and deploy the parachute,allowing you and Jungkook to drift to the ground.

Upon landing, you stumble on your knees, hyperventilating as the adrenaline courses through your body. Jungkook joins you, also dropping to his knees as he gently cradles your face. He appears just as disoriented, resting his forehead against yours. “You good?” he asks, chest rising up and down.

You nod before you fall into his arms, sobbing.

“Thank gods I’m with you,” he murmurs into your skin.Jungkook embraces you tightly, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. Once you've calmed down, he assists you in getting back on your feet. “We’ll be okay,” he states, holding you by the crook of your arm. “I’m here. I got you.”

Tartarus is an ominous realm with a combination of shadowy chasms and rugged terrains. Heavy clouds loom overhead, casting a dark veil across the landscape. The ground is uneven, marked by deep crevices that seemingly stretch into infinity. Unsettling sounds permeate the air, forming an eerie symphony of the cries and moans of monsters.

You and Jungkook quickly fall ill to the noxious atmosphere in Tartarus.

Jungkook’s handsome face erects boils, and he appears more ill with each passing moment.

“Kook,” you nudge him with your body, “You alright?”

He nods, gulping. “‘m good, inferno princess. Worry about yourself.”

You pause. “You’re clearly not okay.” On cue, Jungkook stumbles to his knees, and you fall to yours as he rests his head on your shoulder. You’re not sure why you’re not as affected, but you always knew that it was relative to your immunity to fire.

Suddenly, an idea appears in your head.

The River Phlegethon.

The River Phlegethon is a river coursing through Tartarus, made entirely of molten lava.

It is said to consist of healing properties that keep monsters alive. It may work on demigods too.

You rush to the River Phlegethon, submerging your metal water bottle beneath its fiery surface before rushing back to Jungkook. “Drink this.”

“What the fuck-”

You force it to his lips and down his throat. He gazes at you with despondency, like you’ve betrayed him horribly. He clutches his throat, retching and coughing at the sensation of molten lava down his throat. You eye him back like an insane person, bringing the bottle to your lips before you gulp down the rest of the lava.

The only way to describe drinking molten lava is painful, excruciatingly horribly painful, even with your immunity to fire. But after a moment of torture, you feel good as new.

It must have had the same effect on Jungkook because the boils vanish, and the familiar youthful glow returns to his face.

“Gods inferno princess. Thought you were trying to kill me,” Jungkook jokes.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe it actually worked!” you exclaim to which Jungkook scowls. “So you shoved that down my throat when you weren’t even sure-”

“Well, well, well. Demigods in Tartarus. Now that’s a sight I didn’t think I’d ever see. And it just so happens to be the same demigods who banished me down to this pit.”

You and Jungkook whip your heads to the direction of the voice. Lamia, the same monster you encountered on the Quest of the Eternal Night.

Seeing Lamia again for the first time in years makes your knees buckle. There was no doubt in your mind that her abilities would be enhanced within the depths of Tartarus.

She still adopts the appearance of a monster with the grotesque combination of human and serpent, her coiled, snake-like body merging seamlessly with a distorted human upper torso.

Jungkook, reckless as ever, doesn’t hold back. “Lamia, you tried to kill Y/N! You committed a sin, and you’re reaping the consequences! Now leave, or I’ll kill you again!” Jungkook roars, causing Lamia to scoff as she slithers.

“A grandson of Zeus,” she sneers, “Just like your grandfather. Stupid. Reckless. Selfish. Demigods are no different from gods. Hera murdered my children, and I will murder every single one of her descendants in return.”

Jungkook grimaces, instinctively stepping in front of you to shield you with his larger frame. “Then take it out on her. Believe me when I say I’m not the biggest fan of Hera either. We are not her allies. Just go on your way, and we won’t have a problem.”

Jungkook is especially talented at bluffing. He knows he doesn’t have the advantage on Lamia’s home court, and you can tell how terrified he is by the way his body trembles.

Lamia cackles, a Grinch-like smirk spreading across her lips as she goes for Jungkook’s weak spot: You.

Her red eyes look straight into yours and you begin trembling uncontrollably.

She compels your mind with millions of

distressing and heart-wrenching visions, flooding your hippocampus with agonizing memories that aren’t even yours. The overload is so intense, and you feel the barriers of your brain expanding, threatening to implode.

The intensified influence of Tartarus seems to be amplifying Lamia's powers.

She no longer simply wield the ability to psychologically torture with the victim’s own memories, she can harness the most agonizing memories of the history of the world to lead you to your demise.

Gruesome visions from World War 2 relentlessly flow into your mind.

Your brain synchronizes its rhythm with your heartbeat – thump, thump, thump. Each beat sends a jolt through your body, and your breath hitches in your throat when your mind drifts to a vision of the Allied and Axis Powers marching towards one another.

The memories relentlessly infiltrate your mind, and you find yourself understanding the ruthless mindset of soldiers who were not merely bent on killing but also on torturing and annihilating- annihilating everything.

Victims of chemical warfare desperately tear at their skin, their heads exploded by gunshots. Gradually, you start feeling the effects of chemical warfare creeping over you, prompting an agonizing scream as you instinctively claw at your own face.

Suddenly, a gun magically materializes itself a few yards from you.

With tears relentlessly running down your face and hives protruding from your skin, you crawl towards it, not minding that your fingernails are digging into poisonous terrain because you’re hellbent on ending this agony.

Jungkook quickly engages Lamia in combat with his sword. Jungkook bitterly laughsl in amusement when Lamia unfurls wings from her sides, soaring around him. Of course she can fly.

Flying around Jungkook, Lamia claws and slashes, leaving a deep cut on his bicep. Grimacing in pain, he falls to his knees, clutching the wound. His expression contorts into agony, the pain becoming so excruciating that sensation from his arm starts slipping away. He tries to wiggle his fingers, but he can’t.

His ears ring, prompting a groan as he bites his lip, striving to mentally overcome the pain. Lamia's maniacal laughter echoes in his mind, but the throbbing in Jungkook's arm drowns it into a dull background noise.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you in the midst of your psychological torment, crawling towards a nearby gun.

His face falls when he realizes the scenario Lamia is attempting to placate.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, immediately rising to his knees and kicking the gun into the River Phlegethon.

Regret immediately washes over him as he watches the gun fall into the depths of the River Phlegethon. Your hysterical trance may actually compel you to jump into the river to go after it.

You were immune to fire, but Jungkook isn’t so sure that you’ll survive a bath in the river of fire.

He winces, trying to mentally overcome the intensifying throbbing in his arm so he can finally finish things.

Jungkook hurts so much seeing you like this: sobbing, ripping your hair out, writhing in agony at Lamia’s infliction.

Lamia had already taken a part of you when you were 14, leaving you shivering and trembling in the eternal darkness of Los Angeles. Jungkook would be damned if he let it happen again.

When Jungkook was 14 years old, he sent Lamia to Tartarus by decapitating her. He thinks this time, he’ll get rid of her for good by shredding her into dust, leaving no mercy.

He’ll make her death the most painful one he’s ever inflicted.

With flames in his pupils, he charges towards Lamia, slashing up with his sword to cut off the bottom of her snake tail. Before it hits the ground, he slashes it for what must have been a hundred times, cutting her tail into such tiny pieces that the wind carries her remains away.

She howls in pain and Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to leap up and tackle her to the ground. He holds her down with his good arm, his strength easily overpowering hers.

He starts by cutting off her arms, shredding her arms into nothing but dust. He finishes the job, leaving nothing but her head. It’s bloody and gruesome, but it’s everything Jungkook is used to.

He makes sure to slice off her fangs as he picks her up from her long orange hair.

Practically drenched in Lamia’s blood, Jungkook turns his head and sees you lying like a dead sack of potatoes by the River Phlegethon. The tips of your fingers are lying in the river, meaning he killed Lamia just in time.

He runs over to you and immediately fishes a canteen of nectar from his backpack, setting your head on his thigh as he puts the nectar to your lips, feeling thankful as you respond by weakly sipping on it.

Putting a hand on your forehead, he feels that you’re absolutely burning up. After weakly sipping on the nectar, you gasp like you’ve breathed your first breath.

Jungkook immediately pulls you into his embrace, his eyes full of so much relief. “Gods, inferno princess. I’m so happy that you’re okay.”

You sob into his shirt. “I was so useless, I’m sorry. You saved me. Thank you so much.”

Jungkook holds you even tighter, allowing you to sob into his shirt as he savors the sensation of having you in his arms, alive and okay.

Jungkook pulls back, fingers combing through your hair and tucking a strand behind your ear. He hands cradle your jaw, his thumbs wiping your tears away, until he realizes that he actually smeared Lamia’s blood on your face.

“Oops- sorry, I got blood on you,” he sheepishly mutters, biting his lip.

You giggle at that, wiping the blood away with your sleeve before your eyes drift towards that large gash on Jungkook’s arm.

“Gods Jungkook!” you exclaim, reaching into your magic toolbelt to pull out some healing properties. Your magic toolbelt always materializes what you need just in time.

“Oh this?” Jungkook looks down at the gash on his arm that is now foaming, bloody, and turning a shade of green, “This papercut? Don’t even worry about it.”

You scoff, quickly cleaning the wound and wrapping his arm in bandages. Jungkook always pretends like he doesn’t feel any pain, but you don’t miss the way he winces in pain when you begin to apply pressure on his wound.

Once the task is complete, your gaze shifts to the decapitated head of Lamia. Her eyes are void of life and color. Without a doubt, Jungkook had completed his duty successfully.

You narrow your eyes, examining her head, devoid of the snake's lower body, claws, and fangs.

Your chest aches as you exhale shakily.

Lamia was the most strikingly beautiful being you’ve ever encountered. You’ve met the goddess of beauty Aphrodite multiple times, and you dare to entertain the idea that Lamia surpasses her beauty.

Aphrodite has the kind of beauty that was glamorous and attention-commanding.

Lamia, on the other hand, was naturally radiant. Her look could not be easily imitated by artificial means. She was a sculpture, a form of art that would never be replicated.

No wonder the queen of the gods was so envious. No wonder the king of the gods was so utterly obsessed and smitten with her.

Her beauty is a reminder that at her core, Lamia was a human being. A tragic soul whose children met a ruthless end by none other than the gods you served. Her long, soft, and luscious orange hair cascaded across Tartarus's harsh terrain, comfortingly beautiful against its vile surroundings.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to weep for her as much as you wanted to kill her.

Eyes lifting towards Jungkook, you force a slight smile. “Ready to finish the deal?”

Jungkook looks at you and nods, unsheathing the knife on his waist, offering you the very celestial bronze knife you forged for him when you were ten years old.

You find yourself torn between tears and laughter. For some reason he always kept that stupid knife with him. You would never tell him, but it made you so emotional- like the knife was a symbol for yours and his unbreakable bond.

“You got this, inferno princess.”

You nod, gulping nervously as your fingertips brush against his, your fist closing over the handle of the knife.

You’re on the verge of bringing Jungkook’s knife down on her head, your features harden as you prepare to end Lamia for good, seeking retribution for the torment she’s inflicted and the lives she’s taken.

With a scream you will yourself to bring the knife down.

Until you don’t.

Your features soften, and the celestial knife falls with a thud.

You cast a glance at Jungkook, and he responds with a nod, seemingly grasping your thoughts.

His right hand entwines with your left, and he closes his eyes. "Oh gods, I implore your mercy upon her soul. May the fates consider her past, the loss of her children, and the wrath from the queen of the gods. I offer her head as a solemn sacrifice."

As he speaks, your fingers tighten around his, clinging onto his every word, sobbing in relief that he shares your sentiments of grief for her poor soul, even after she tried to kill you both.

With a shaky exhale, you continue. “Kindly extend your compassion to her spirit and reunite her with her offspring in the Fields of Asphodel. Anywhere but the Fields of Punishment would suffice. Please, shower your mercy upon her.”

And with that, you hold the celestial bronze knife up and bring her millenia long suffering to an end.

Following your encounter with Lamia, you and Jungkook continue your journey, navigating through the rugged terrain, weaving between jagged rocks and hiding in concealed potholes.

Unfortunately, monsters are literally built to sense demigods so it isn’t long until you encounter another monster.

The next monster you encountered is Cheimarrhus. Cheimarrhus is less of a monster and more of an elemental force: the essence of coldness in Tartarus.

When she assumes humanoid form, her skin becomes icy blue with silver hues. Her hair cascades like frozen tendrils, and her eyes gleam with an otherworldly coldness.

The aura surrounding her is so frozen cold that your flame is nothing but a mere candle.

You aren’t able to construct anything with your tool belt because Cheimarrhus simply morphed into an elemental force when you attacked. What is a hammer going to do against a snowflake?

It isn’t just that. Her mere presence is enough to extinguish your flames, physically weakening you to your knees.

On the earthly realm, Khione is the goddess of snow and winter. Cheimarrhus seems to be the Tartarus version over her.

After hours of treading away from Lamia, you and Jungkook sit in a concealed pothole, warming yourselves with a makeshift fire sparked by your finger. Jungkook sits closely by you, wrapping an arm around you while you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you Jungkook,” you murmur, “Thank you for saving me from Lamia. Gods, I was about to jump in the River Phlegethon- I could have died.” You burn your eyes into the lively flame, finding solace in its orange and red hues.

Jungkook looks at you incredulously. “Inferno princess,” he expresses dumbfoundedly, “We’re in this together. We’re a team. I would give my life for you to survive. You’re key to defeating Gaia. The others can’t do it without you.”

Your gaze remains fixed on the fire. You shake your head. “Don’t talk about losing your life so easily. I would give my life for you to survive, Kook. I already played my part by retrieving the armor from the Hephaestion. I’m not needed anymore.”

Your declaration is solemn, but you truly do mean it. You’ve played your role in accordance with the prophecy. Jungkook, Mingyu, Rose, Mina, Taehyung, and Namjoon would fare well without you.

Jungkook’s features harden. “Then I’ll make sure we both make it.”

A smile adorns your lips, and Jungkook thinks that the loveliness of your smile would bring life to flowers even in the heart of Tartarus. You nudge him softly with your body. “That’s true. We’re both going to make it.”

“That’s right, inferno princess. Atta girl. None of this death talk anymore. It’s depressing.”

You snuggle into the warmth of Jungkook’s body, enjoying the brevity of peace in the deepest pit of hell- until something feels off. You immediately jerk away from him, eliciting a look of concern from Jungkook.

“Would she mind that we’re -like- cuddling right now?” you ask.

Jungkook frowns. “Who?”

“Seraphina. I mean- you haven’t mentioned her once this entire time. Don’t you miss her?”

Seraphina is Jungkook’s special friend, or talking stage, or something like that. In your opinion, she’s easily the most beautiful girl at camp, even amongst her siblings in the Aphrodite cabin.

Before you left on the voyage to Greece, you’d seen Jungkook and Seraphina meandering around camp, holding hands, making out behind the Ares cabin.

He blinks at you with a sense of disbelief. “Inferno princess,” he deadpans, “We’re literally freezing our asses off in Tartarus. She’ll be fine.”

You shake your head. “Even in Tartarus, it doesn’t feel right. Seraphina’s my friend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jungkook cuts you off.

“But I saw you-”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re just messing around. She’s about to break things off with me anyways. It’s a rite of passage in the Aphrodite cabin- breaking a boy’s heart. Bonus points if it’s an Ares kid. She thinks she’s playing me but I’m playing her.”

You frown. “Oh.”

Typical of an Aphrodite kid. Aphrodite cheated on your dad with Jungkook’s dad, and you can’t help but feel scorn for her. You thought Seraphina was better than that.

Jungkook playing along with it is kinda icky too. You decide to call him out for it once you return to the mortal world.

As a Hephaestus kid, it’s definitely in your nature to judge the antics of Ares and Aphrodite kids.

“Are you sure you’re not just bringing it up because of Jaehyun?” he raises a brow at you and pulls you from your judgemental trance.

You scoff. “Seriously? How much longer are you going to bring that up?”

Last summer, you kissed Jaehyun, son of Apollo after the daily campfire ceremony. He had just returned on a quest to retrieve the Pythian bow. The Pythian bow is a golden bow with arrows that never miss their mark. The very existence of the Pythian bow guaranteed the precision and accuracy of all archers.

When news came out that it was stolen, Jaehyun, Namjoon, and Nayeon, a hunter of Artemis, were sent on a quest to Yellowstone National Park to get it back.

When they returned, Jaehyun announced that the Pythian bow was stolen by a giant and offspring of Gaia, Tityos.

Tityos was said to have lusted after Leto, Artemis and Apollo’s mother, and attempted to violate Leto during her pregnancy. Apollo and Artemis who were still in their mother’s womb were not pleased by this and slew Tityos with their arrows once they were born.

When Jaehyun announced to the camp that Tityos, the offspring of Gaia, had returned from Tartarus, a bone chilling unease dispersed through the assembly of demigod campers. With hindsight, you realize that this was only the beginning of Gaia’s revival.

Back then, you were so relieved to see that he returned safely so you ran into his arms and kissed his cheek. It was a heat-in-the-moment thing, and when Jaehyun turned his head- well, that was your first kiss.

The weight of it settled uncomfortably in your stomach when you realized that Jaehyun was all in for you. Letting him down was heart-wrenching, and you still feel terrible for breaking the guy’s heart.

Crazily enough, Jungkook witnessed the entire thing during a walk back from the woods. Once you pulled away from Jaehyun, Jungkook approached you both, slow-clapping like an evil villain. Jaehyun glared intensely at Jungkook, who scoffed in disdain before sauntering back to the Ares cabin.

He made you feel like shit and you were still pissed about it.

“Gods Y/N, I had to bleach my eyes out after witnessing that. I deserve to be compensated,” he sasses.

You shake your head in disbelief. “That was my first kiss, Kook. And now I have to think of my first kiss with your deplorable face in mind.”

Jungkook’s lips curl smugly. “Good.”

You glare at him. “Is that all you have to say? Asshole.”

He shrugs. “Just give me a hug, inferno princess. We should get back on our feet soon.” He opens his arms, prompting a disdainful expression from you.

Your eyes drift towards the bandaged wound on his bicep, and your features soften. “Does it still hurt?”

Just looking at the thing made your arm throb. Disgusting shades of green and purple peeked through the sheer bandages. “Hold up, let me clean it.”

You reach into your tool belt, the materials in mind magically appearing.

As you undo his bandages, Jungkook’s features curl in agony, wincing at the re-exposure. You use sterile gauze to wipe the wound before dabbing it with petroleum jelly.

Jungkook’s arms are thick, but you treat his skin as if it’s the most delicate substance. Gently cleaning the wound with an antiseptic solution, you rewrap it with a sterile bandage, ensuring a snug fit.

“It should have been me.”

You lift your head, staring at him with a look of curiosity, your eyes flickering around his features to detect any insincerity.

You know what he’s talking about, but you still feel the need to ask. “What?”

“Your first kiss,” he replies, flexing and extending his arm in comfort now that it was freshly bandaged. “It should have been me.”

He looks right at you, his expression hardened- perhaps to mask his vulnerability or to convey the sincerity of his confession.

With his features so stoic, you take a second to admire how handsome he is.

Even with his face battered and bloody, he resembles a sculpture. Every feature aligns to create the most handsome person you've ever seen.

Your breath catches in your throat. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

He relents on his stoic expression, a subtle warmth enveloping his features as he releases a light-hearted laughter. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know,” he looks around and rubs the nape of his neck, “Tartarus isn’t the best place to make a confession, eh?”

You laugh in disbelief, “That was very Jungkook of you,” you comment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He smiles, dusting his pants off to stand up, offering you a hand. You take his hand, standing, and at that moment, your makeshift fire extinguishes. The temperature plummets, and the night becomes impossibly dark.

Jungkook immediately unsheathes his celestial bronze knife, assuming defensive stance as he conducts a 360 degree scan of his surroundings.

There is a clear threat, but he can’t detect any presence.

You stand back to back with Jungkook, hair rapidly whipping against the fierce winds. The plummeting temperature sends chills through your skin, nearly freezing you solid.

You will yourself to blaze a fire from your fingertips, but to no avail. You exert more magical energy into at least sparking a flame, but the force of the frigid winds snuffs your flame out every time.

Suddenly, an evil cackle echoes throughout the atmosphere.

“Foolish demigods, entering Tartarus unprepared," the voice resonates with an eerie chill. "In the realm of perpetual cold, your feeble flames are but futile flickers. These days, Tartarus really likes cooling down." The freezing air intensifies, making it harder for you to even draw breath.

You attempt once more to summon a flame from your fingertips, determined to defy the numbing cold. However, the frigid winds persistently resist your efforts, extinguishing any spark you manage to conjure.

“Reveal yourself,” Jungkook utters lowly.

“Isn’t the cold to your liking?” As she speaks, she becomes louder, her voice ringing in your ears and making you wince.

Particles of snow begin whirling around in tornado formation ahead of you, the tornado becoming thinner and thinner until it morphs into humanoid form. The woman who appears has icy blue skin, hair cascading in frozen tendrils, and a glacial aura that crystallizes the air within a three foot vicinity.

Taking in her humanoid form, you finally realize who she is, and you gasp. “Cheimarrhus.”

You don’t realize how much your lips are trembling until you hear your own voice- the way you said her name sounded nothing more than a chatter.

She smirks. “Well done, young demigod. I applaud you for recognizing me. The power-hungry Olympians have practically wiped my name from existence. The gods all know that Khione is threatened by me.”

The face of Khione, the goddess of snow and winter on the earthly realm appears in your mind.

Jungkook eyes you before lying straight through his teeth. “That’s not true. You’re in our curriculum at Camp Half-Blood: Tartarus Monsters 202. They don’t even teach you in 101 because you’re too advanced and powerful.”

Cheimarrhus seems to be pleased by that, satisfaction enveloping her features before she sneers. “The giants must be the center of the 101 course. I swear they get all the attention.”

You nod in agreement. “Of course. But you understand that’s standard, right? They don’t dare let the younger demigods know about you because they would have too many nightmares.”

Cheimarrhus cackles, licking her lips.

You and Jungkook eye each other, awkwardly laughing along with her to hopefully appease the blizzard.

“SILENCE.”

You flinch, taking a step back, Jungkook reaching for your hand to stabilize you.

“Do you take me for a fool? You demigods and your lies. Typical,” she spits, her anger causing the temperature to plummet even more. “Now demigods, suffer. I will win Tartarus’s favor by freezing you to death.”

“Hey! We were just trying to be nice!-”

Her body morphs into snow particles, whirling around before it disperses throughout the atmosphere.

You look at Jungkook, ice crystallizing around strands of his hair, his skin an unhealthy hue of blue, and his lips trembling. You’re sure you don’t look much better because his features morph into horror when he looks at you.

“Y-Y/N. L-let’s take the motorcycle and get the outta here.”

“What about th-the monsters?”

“Fuck that, we’ll freeze to death first.”

You nod in agreement, and Jungkook presses a button on his watch, watching as it unfolds into a Celestial Bronze Harley Davidson motorcycle. You zoom off on the motorcycle, arms locked around Jungkook’s waist. Gods, getting on the motorcycle was probably a worse idea, the frigid air rushing against your face as the motorcycle accelerated.

Cheimarrhus is relentless, trailing on you as rapidly as she matches the motorcycle’s speed.

“Jungkook!” You call out, “This isn’t working!”

The motorcycle comes to an abrupt stop and you both tumble onto the ground as the watch returns to Jungkook’s wrist.

You crawl around the ground, sobbing and looking for Jungkook. “Jungkook, where are you? Please Jungkook, please!”

You hear him shuffle towards you before he helps you up from both armpits. You both tread to a nearby pothole, settling into it while you cling onto each other, desperately clinging to each other’s body heat.

The side effects of frostbite can be fatal. In highly severe instances, the freezing cold penetrates human tissue, causing body parts like toes, fingers, and noses to freeze and eventually fall off.

You close your eyes, nestling in Jungkook’s embrace as you prepare to welcome your final moments.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“I had a crush on you from -like- 12 to 15. I thought I should let you know in case, you know.”

“Gods inferno princess, didn’t we agree to not talk about death? It’s just an average day for us demigods. Frostbite, freezing to death? What does that even mean? It would never happen to us,” he muses, blue lips curling up into a teasing smile.

You push your face into the now sopping fabric of Jungkook’s shirt, laughing. Who would even laugh in a situation like this?

“So what’d I do to make you stop liking me?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Nothing, you just didn’t like me back,” you shrug, your shoulders barely moving in the freezing cold.

“That’s not true. I liked you the moment I laid eyes on you. That’s why I was such an asshole. It was the only way 10-year-old me knew how to flirt.”

You cease your motions, your frosty eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “You always had a thing for Aphrodite girls. I didn’t know.”

“It was only because you never batted an eye at me. Had me heartbroken.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Gods, I think that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, even in Tartarus.”

“What do you say? Do you have it in your heart to give me another chance? I want you for real. I want us for real.”

After the incident last summer, you swore you wouldn’t ever make any spur-in-the-moment decisions, until your frosty fingers cup Jungkook’s cheeks, and you kiss him.

Jungkook seems a bit taken aback, but reciprocates your kiss with equal fervor, placing his hands on the small of your back to stabilize you. The ice on your lips melts, and at that moment, everything seems okay.

Gods, you feel so warm on the inside that the temperature outside seems to gradually rise.

You pull back, eyes flickering around your surroundings. The blizzard is gone. Cheimarrhus is gone. Somehow the warmth returned, making even Tartarus feel like a tropical paradise.

In relief, you pull Jungkook in for another kiss. He holds your cheeks with his rugged palms, practically drinking from your lips in reprieve.

The sound of thundering footsteps pull you away from each other.

Yours and Jungkook’s heads whip towards the sounds of the footsteps, and there stands a thirty foot giant.

The giant is colossal in stature, the stony texture of his skin giving him an appearance as if built from the very rocks that surrounded him. The monster has a horrifying and booming presence, its malevolent aura casting an ominous feeling in your gut.

The giant blinks at you and Jungkook, the most nonchalant look cloaking his rugged features.

Momentarily, you consider the idea that the giant might not see you- but no he does- because he dismisses your mere existence with a wave before sauntering back to a hut a kilometer away.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook mutters.

Every footstep the giant takes induces vibrations through the terrain, making yours and Jungkook’s teeth chatter just as much as Cheimarrhus’s blizzard did.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir! Can you help us?!” Jungkook’s voice echoes throughout the atmosphere and your heart drops into your ass.

Giants were the direct offspring of Gaia, the Earthmother you were on a quest to kill.

If Cheimarrhus didn’t kill you, then this giant would surely be the one to finish the deal.

The giant slowly turns around, eyes narrowing at you like you’re the scum of the Earth. You shudder in anticipation.

“Follow me to my hut,” is all he says, turning back around and walking steadily towards his hut.

You and Jungkook quickly scramble to your feet, fingers intertwined as you trail behind the giant, leaving a few meters in between you and the giant.

The giant turns around again, and it’s like the whole earth rumbles. “What are you doing? Hurry up!” You and Jungkook cast questionable glances at each other, but nonetheless scramble to the giant’s side.

After a few odd moments of walking, the giant speaks up. “So, how’d you two get to Tartarus? I’ve never seen any demigods around here before.”

A giant starting a casual conversation with you in Tartarus was not on your bingo card for this year.

Jungkook told the giant the entire story eliciting a deep sigh from the monster. “That’s my mother, always insistent on wreaking havoc. She banished me and disowned me, her son for the same reason- because I refused to fight your father.” He looks right at Jungkook, and at that moment, a lightbulb appears above your head.

The giant you were addressing was Damasen.

Damasen was originally a giant created by the Earth goddess Gaea to serve her in her plans to overthrow the Olympian gods.

He was designed to be the bane of Ares, Jungkook’s father. Damasen was quite literally created to embody the antithesis of the war god’s essence, the only being designed to incapacitate Ares.

Ultimately, this backfired on Gaia. While many giants were naturally hostile towards the gods, Damasen differed in nature. Damasen rejected war, with a gentle heart that rejected the brutality often associated with Ares.

“You’re Damasen” you exhale breathlessly.

“Correct, daughter of Hephaestus. Come in my hut and have soup, then I’ll send you both on your way.”

Damasen the Friendly poured you and Jungkook bowls of drakon soup, chunks of drakon meat floating in the broth.

“What about you, Mr. Damasen? Why don’t you tell us your story?” you implore, heartily sipping down the soup.

Damasen smiles. “It’s just as I said. I rejected war, resulting in abandonment from my mother. Instead, I chose to live a peaceful life on Earth as a farmer. I befriended other mortal farmers, and we lived in harmony planting wheat and barley,” he shrugs, lifting his mug in a fatherly way as he takes a sip of hot water.

You and Jungkook exchange dumbfounded glances. A giant living peacefully among mortals was absolutely unheard of.

“It was a peaceful millenia,” he continues, “Until a drakon escaped into the mortal realm and began ravaging all the farms. I couldn’t let it be. I slayed it. My mother banished me to Tartarus, cursing me to slay the drakon everyday for the rest of my life.”

On cue, a drakon roar reverberates between the walls. Damasen casts a dark look to the outside of the hut and immediately springs into action.

You and Jungkook watch dumbfoundedly as Damasen slays the enormous creature and walks to the hut like returning from a walk in the park.

“Damasen, you’re amazing,” you express in awe, to which Damasen shrugs.

“You demigods may rest on the hammock. You both look awful. We can continue this conversation once you wake,” he says, pointing towards a hammock made from drakon skin in the corner.

Jungkook wants to protest, feeling unsafe about sleeping vulnerable in the presence of a giant, but he’s too tired to process anything.

He plops onto the hammock, welcoming you with open arms as you both sink into the sheets, falling into a restful slumber after the most difficult hours of your life.

Jungkook wakes first, eyes blinking groggily as his eyes venture towards you, sleeping peacefully in the crook of his armpit. Careful not to wake you up, he gently lifts your head with his palm and gently places it against a pillow before standing from the hammock.

Damasen sits on the kitchen table, structured from Drakon bone, reading a Guide to the Underworld by Persephone and Demeter, a book that must have blown into the pit of Tartarus.

He takes a seat by Damasen. “Sir, we need you to lead us towards the Doors of Death.”

The Doors of Death stood as the sole gateway to the mortal realm. Gaia and her giants had seized control of these doors, enabling monsters to surge back into the mortal world with alarming speed. You and Jungkook had to enter the mortal realm through the Doors of Death, sealing it off from Tartarus’s side while the rest of the crew would work on closing the doors from the Earthly side.

Damasen shakes his head, and Jungkook becomes slightly intimidated. This giant was designed to kill his father, the most fierce warrior amongst the Olympians. Though Damasen claimed a life of peace, what if he changed his mind? Damasen could crush Jungkook with his bare fists.

“Son of Ares, I already told you that I chose to leave a life of peace. I do not wish to involve myself with pointless affairs.”

Jungkook grimaces, taking a knee on the concrete floor, a sign of respect for the Greeks “Sir, please. I’d do anything. We won’t survive without your guidance.”

Damasen lifts his gaze from the book to Jungkook, seemingly trapped in intense contemplation. “There is one thing you can do.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll try my best to do it for you,” Jungkook implores.

“My pocket knife,” Damasen responds, “It was the only belonging I carried from the mortal realm. The drakon knocked it into the River Phlegethon, and it’s been sitting at the bottom since. The child of Hephaestus can retrieve it for me.”

“No-”

“I’ll do it,” you declare, sitting up from the hammock.

Jungkook cuts you off immediately. “Sir, is there anything else I can do? I don’t want to put her in danger.”

Damasen shrugs, “That’s all I can think of. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything else.”

You shake your head, joining Jungkook and Damasen at the kitchen table, sitting on one of the drakon bone chairs. “I can do it. I’m immune to fire.”

Jungkook glares at you, and you respond with an even more fierce glare. Damasen, studying the dynamic between you and Jungkook, releases a sigh. “Child, does your father know about your relationship with this son of Ares? I imagine Hephaestus won’t find that very favorable.”

You stick out your hand, partially ignoring Damasen’s comment about Jungkook. Damasen uses his pointer finger and thumb to shake your hand.

“Call me Y/N. If I retrieve the pocket knife from the River Phlegethon, join us on our quest. You can return to the mortal world and work as a farmer on Camp Half-Blood. We’re looking for a manager for our strawberry fields.”

Damasen shakes his head, “Your efforts would be futile. Even if I tried to leave, we would walk endlessly until returning to this hut.”

“Damasen,” you implore, “You deserve so much more than this. You deserve to see the stars, the sky, the moon. We need you.”

“If you retrieve the knife, I will guide you towards the Doors of Death. I will not be able to provide assistance beyond that,” he stubbornly responds, refusing to change his stance.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you exhale. “Okay. Where’s the knife?”

Jungkook scowls deeply at you. “Y/N. It’s dangerous. We can do this a different way.” He redirects his attention towards Damasen. “Anything else. Just let me know, anything that a son of Ares can do, I will do.”

“You already killed Lamia. At the very least, I can do this. I’m immune to fire, I’ll be able to survive at least 5 minutes in the river, and I can come back up to the surface if I need to.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. You’re not doing it.”

You frown deeply at him. “What, so you think I’m too weak to contribute to the quest?”

“What? No- that’s not what I’m saying. I just want you to be safe.”

You place both palms on his shoulders, looking at him straight in the eyes. “Jungkook,” you declare firmly, “Drop the Prince Charming complex. We’re in Tartarus. I wouldn’t try if I knew I couldn’t do it.”

Leaving him dumbfounded, you face Damasen. “Lead the way. I’m ready to jump in when you are.”

Jungkook clears his throat. “Damasen, give us a moment to discuss. Please.” He pulls you by your wrist to a corner of the drakon bone hut. You’re not necessarily secluded and Damasen catches heed to every word.

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. “You’re sure you can do it? You’ve never walked into a fire, let alone swam in one.”

You dismiss the notion with a wave. “I have. I saved some mortals from a house fire last summer. At the very least I can do five minutes- maybe ten if I try hard enough.”

Jungkook eyes you suspiciously, but you refuse to relent on your stoicism. Of course, you’re lying, but Jungkook doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine,” Jungkook relents, “But you’re making a silicone harness, with a fire-proof string, and I’m pulling you out after three minutes,” he compromises, features hardening.

That’s all you’re getting, and you are going to take it if it means getting this over with more quickly.

“Damasen, if you give us a minute, I’m going to construct a makeshift breathing apparatus. Jungkook, I won’t make a harness, but I can tie a string around my waist. Pull me out after three minutes.”

You begin pulling things from your toolbelt, leaving Damasen to marvel at it. “Hephaestus technology, huh?” he beckons, “Your father must love you a lot to provide you with something like this.”

You shrug, “I guess. Man doesn’t talk to me much. It’s whatever,” you respond, quickly brushing off the topic as your hands quickly assemble a makeshift breathing apparatus from titanium alloys, ceramic composites, and rubber seals.

Anyways, without delving too much into the details of yours and Jungkook’s excursion to Tartarus, you can safely claim you and Jungkook soundly escaped Tartarus.

Damasen was not so lucky.

That didn’t mean, however, that you and Jungkook weren’t on the brink of death when you narrowly escaped Tartarus through the Doors of Death.

Writhing on the floor, you vaguely remember Taehyung whisking you in his arms, willing the water from the surrounding lakes to form a wave, carrying himself back to the ship.

Meanwhile, Mingyu, son of Jupiter, soared through the air carrying an unconscious Jungkook from the crooks of his armpits.

You and Jungkook must have laid idle for quite a while in the ship’s corridors, and your friends, in their infinitely loyal nature, sat by your bedside for the entire time.

Rose, daughter of Apollo and one of the demigods on the quest, remained by your side throughout, using her most powerful healing properties to save you from returning to the Underworld as a dead spirit.

Her voice was the very first thing you heard when you woke up.

“Gods Taehyung, you fucking idiot, don’t pour more than half of a cup of nectar into the canteen! It needs to stay refrigerated!”

“Damn doctor- I’m trying my best here!”

You blink groggily, closing your eyes shut at the sunlight seeping through your eyelids like you have a sun allergy.

“Rosie?” you breathlessly express.

Rose drops nearly spills the canteen of nectar onto her pretty dress and whips her head towards you.

“Praise the gods, Y/N!” she squeals, reaching out to embrace you before she rapidly recoils her arms, “Oh shit, I don’t want to hurt you, but Gods Y/N, I’m so fucking happy you’re awake!”

You shake your head, sitting up on the bed, allowing Rose to cup your cheeks and rest her forehead on yours.

“‘m fine Rosie, I feel brand new,” you mumble, and she finally reaches her arms out to tightly embrace you, tears of relief streaming down her face, soiling the fabric of your T-shirt.

“Gods Rosie, are you crying?” you express, a teasing giggle leaving your lips.

She playfully swats at your shoulder, “Yes Y/N, I’m fucking crying! I was worried sick! You fell into freaking Tartarus for Gods’ sake! We were so worried that you wouldn’t make it back, and to just-to just- to just see that you and Jungkook are okay- Gods, I’m so happy!”

The sounds of more cries echo across the walls, and you lift your head from Rose’s shoulder, blinking like you might be hallucinating because Taehyung is sobbing, like actual tears streaming down his face.

You don’t think you’ve seen him cry since you were 14, during the Battle of the Labyrinth.

And as much as you want to make a teasing comment, you know you shouldn’t encourage his toxic masculinity any further.

He’s using his large palms to wipe the snot seeping out of his nostrils, and you and Rose simply look at each other, not knowing what to do or say.

Should you comfort him? Should you say something?

“I need to pee,” is all you muster in response.

Rose laughs, rising up, wiping her palms on her jeans. “Want me to come along?”

“Duh.”

At that moment, you feel a large palm wrap around the circumference of your wrist.

“Don’t go,” is all Jungkook mumbles, resting his forearm on his eyes to shield himself from the sun. He opens a single eye, and you feel your heart skip a beat- the sun is perfectly reflecting off Jungkook’s skin, making his brown irises appear the prettiest shade of hazel, and he’s looking at you so needily you wish you could stay with him forever.

He tightens his hold on your wrist, pulling you towards him- you resist slightly so he doesn’t pull you on top of him in front of everyone. “Shit baby, we made it. It’s you and me inferno princess, the only demigods to survive Tartarus.”

And with that, the hand on your wrist moves to the back of your head, and he pulls your lips toward his, kissing you deeply like you were made of the sweetest nectar. You’re a bit taken aback, but you kiss him back just as passionately, eyes shutting in relief because Jungkook is okay.

He almost died several times in Tartarus protecting you. He laid his life down to save yours, and Gods, you hate to admit it but Jungkook is your handsome warrior, your Prince Charming, your man.

You would do anything for him.

You only pull away from each other when the sound of a canteen clatters on the floor.

“Apollo’s Arrows!” Rosie backs away, nearly toppling over a nearby chair, a palm clasped over her mouth, “What happened in Tartarus?”

“What the fuck, Jeon!!” Mingyu gasps.

Your head whips to your left, and the rest of the crew is standing in the doorway. Namjoon, Mina, and Mingyu are gaping at you, meaning that the entire crew witnessed the kiss.

“Surprise..?” you squeak.

Mina, daughter of the Roman goddess Venus, quite literally leaps onto the bed, enveloping you in the tightest hug she’s ever bestowed. “I knew it! I swear, my mom told me you two were designed for each other in a dream! Gods, is Jungkook the first guy you didn’t reject?”

Your cheeks flush at that.

The goddess of love herself claimed that you and Jungkook were designed for each other? Did the fates also weave this into their tapestries?

Jungkook raises a brow. “How many other guys did you reject?”

Mina squeals, “Jeon you wouldn’t believe it- I’ve got a whole list right here, lemme just pull it out-”

Namjoon walks over, placing a soft hand on Mina’s back. He looks up, addressing you and Jungkook. “I’m happy for you lovebirds, but if you’re all healed, we need you guys back up on the deck. We’re sailing into the Sea of Monsters.”

Taehyung stands, the sclera of his eyes fading from a bloodshot red to a crimson pink. He and Jungkook exchange knowing glances, and Taehyung approaches, offering Jungkook a handshake, (or a dap?), to which Jungkook obliges before Taehyung reaches into his pocket for his pen.

He puts it on display, holding it between his pointer and thumb, biting his lower lip in jubilation, a smirk spreading across his lips.

He pushes past everybody, shoots up the stairs, leaving the rest of the crew to only perceive the sound of Taehyung’s pen clicking and transforming into a sexy Celestial Bronze sword.

Jungkook stands, twisting his neck around to ease tension before he leans down to place a brief, but sweet kiss on your lips. “Gotta go babe, get some more rest.”

And with that, Jungkook disappears into the corridors, Namjoon following his lead.

Mina and Rose join you on the bed, the three of you sitting in bestie formation.

“Firstly,” Mina begins, “Are you okay? Gods Y/N, you survived fucking Tartarus.”

You nod, recalling everything that had happened in the pit, from your experiences with Lamia to deep diving into the River Phlegethon. “It hasn’t hit me yet,” you murmur, “but I guess that’ll have to wait until after we finally get rid of Gaia.”

Rose and Mina wrap you in a hug, their love and friendship seeping into you, and the feeling is tangible, so you allow yourself to melt into their embrace. A hug. A hug from your best girl friends is all you need right now.

They pull away, and with a giggle, Rose asks “So what happened with you and Jeon? Don’t tell me you lost your virginity in Tartarus-”

The sound of someone clearing their throat cuts Rosie off, and the three of you immediately whip your heads towards Mingyu, son of Jupiter, who had apparently been there the entire time.

He’s leaning against the doorway, the hilt of his Imperial Gold sword sticking up from the scabbard hooked to his belt.

“He’s been here the whole time?” Mina deadpans to which Mingyu scoffs and shakes his head, taking a seat on the wheely chair by the bed.

“Daughters of Venus, Apollo, and Hephaestus, and none of you could detect the presence of another demigod?” he teases.

“Ugh whatever,” Mina muses, “It’s just because your energy is too weak. Not much to detect anyways”.

Looks like it’s just Mingyu and the girlies.

Or one Greek demigod with three Roman demigods,

Or just four distant relatives through their godly parents just hanging around (except godly DNA wasn’t really a thing).

Mingyu dismisses her claim with a wave of his hand before rolling over to give you a side hug, “I’m glad you’re safe Y/N, and I’m happy you and Jungkook found each other. At least one good thing came from this.”

You blush, thanking Mingyu.

“That guy is like head over heels for you, he looks like he could take a giant on by himself for you,” he teases, to which Mina nods enthusiastically.

“Oh yea Y/N, anybody could tell that Jungkook had a thing for you- you were probably the only one who didn’t know,” Rose agrees.

That makes you redden. You rewind all your previous interactions with Jungkook like a cassette, regurgitating anything that could possibly be interpreted as romantic, but nope, nothing arises.

You pause, thinking back to your quest with Lamia at 14.

Jungkook was so adamant to go on that quest, and you always assumed it was because of his obsession with winning. He wanted to claim the fame and glory that came with completing a quest. He had the time of his life killing ferocious monsters and he could make his dad proud while stroking his own ego.

Quite honestly, it never occurred to you that he accompanied you on all these quests because he liked you.

You open your mouth to say something, but the wretched growls and howls of a sea monster cut you off. The upper deck shakes, rubble from the roof falling onto the ground.

You four give each other knowing looks and bolt up the stairs.

The next two weeks on ships were the most cathartic weeks of Jungkook’s life.

He takes every chance he can romance you, savoring what could have been the past five years. Needless to say, Jungkook is madly in love.

It was the middle of the night, and the sound of your alarm blared in your ears. That meant you were needed for duty on the upper deck.

All members of the crew took turns guarding the upper deck to protect the ship against sea monsters, wind spirits, and any other murder-inducing apparatuses. With a yawn you stumble towards the bathroom, quickling washing up before heading towards the stairs.

Mingyu and Namjoon are leaning against the railings of the ship, appearing like literal death after being on guard for eight hours. You nod at both of them and Namjoon gives you a brief hug before disappearing down the stairs.

You head towards the figurehead, peering at the endless sea and the large crescent moon as you let the wind blow in your face like Rose from Titanic.

Lost in your thoughts, you squeal when a hoodie-clad Jungkook sneaks up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, making the gesture to sniff deeply, which gets him an elbow in the abs.

“Such a barbarian, Kook,” you murmur.

“What? I love your B.O,” he teases.

Disgusting. He’s so gross. So disgusting, and you are disgustingly in love with him.

You swirl around, leaning on the edge of the ship to face him so you can cup his face and sweetly kiss him. You love the texture of his tan skin- much more keratinized than yours- the calluses on his hands and the rough texture on his face somehow makes you feel safe in a weird dermatologist way.

This time, Jungkook doesn’t kiss back, just keeps his eyes open so he can admire you, laughing a bit when you pull away from him.

You bite your lip, crimsoning to the shade of Cupid’s bum. “What?” you pout.

Jungkook shrugs, eyes never averting from yours. “Nothing,” he replies nonchalantly, “You’re particularly lovely tonight.” And he means it.

Under the moonlight, you become more mesmerizing. The night sky and chilly breeze sets the ambiance perfectly. If Jungkook could, he would park the ship by a nearby island and take you on a picnic date by the shore.

You don’t feel lovely- you’re exhausted and quite honestly you kinda want to die but Jungkook never fails to see the beauty in your impurities.

“You should get some rest. You were on guard for like eight hours today” you respond softly. His eyes, though filled with love, are tired with dark circles beneath, and you immediately become concerned for the well being of the man.

He grins, his pupils following your every movement and you don’t realize that Jungkook is slowly inching towards you. You look worried out of your mind and he can’t even take you seriously, thinking you’re the most precious thing in the world. “Did you even sleep? And you’re on guard next,” you beckon.

He looks at you like you’re crazy, scoffing playfully with a hand on his heart. “Babygirl thinks I can’t handle being up for more than twenty four hours? ‘m not a boy anymore, I’m a grown ass man.”

“A grown ass man that needs to sleep,” you point out, gaze hardening.

Jungkook pouts at that, arms sneaking around you as he pulls you closer. “I wanna be with my girl. Send me back to Tartarus if that’s so evil.”

You rake your fingertips through his hair, shaking your head while you laugh at his comment. “And I want my handsome boyfriend to get sleep so he can be his best when he’s on guard duty.”

He lowers his head and whines into the crook of your neck, nibbling on the skin in retaliation.

“After your guard duty today,” you whisper, “Come by my room. We can spend the night together,” your voice in itself makes Jungkook freeze. You sound so alluring, and Jungkook can’t help but fall victim to your seduction.

Greek heroes were known to have fatal flaws: tragic downfalls that led to their bitter demise in all the classics. Hercules’ fatal flaw was impulsivity. Achilles' fatal flaw was his arrogance. Jungkook thinks that his fatal flaw is you. He’d burn the whole world if it meant you were okay.

He pulls away, somewhat surprised while he scans your face for any hint of unseriousness. “Okay,” Jungkook acquiesces, “But call me if you need anything.” With another brief kiss, he turns around and stalks back to his cabin.

For the past five minutes, you’ve been sitting at your desk. A sewing machine from your tool belt is placed in front of you, and you must be out of your mind because you’re actually sewing black lace lingerie.

Of course a daughter of Hephaestus can engineer and sew.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you compare the fabric with your body to ensure the lingerie looks as appealing as possible.

You think you look good but you can’t help the self conscious thoughts seeping into your mind, and thus you resist the urge to smash your head into the sewing machine.

You briefly consider throwing the scraps of fabric into the trash can and pretending this never happened, but at the very least, you should see the lingerie through before deciding to go through with it.

You don’t know what it is, but you are aware that you have some twisted fantasy in the deepest trenches of your heart about seducing your man, a sultry look in your eyes as you beckon him towards you before smothering your body in every crevice of his.

You want him to be enamored with you; you want him to be mesmerized beyond comprehension, and you want to give yourself to him completely.

Gods, this was a dark thought but you and Jungkook were on a dangerous, life-threatening quest. Who knows when either of you will meet your treacherous demise? You might as well adopt the whole fuck it, we’re going to die anyway philosophy and carry out the little silly adventures you’ve dreamt of, especially while you’re alive.

You slide the lingerie and look at yourself in the mirror- you don’t even recognize yourself.

You must be out of your mind.

Jungkook suffers through a long eight hours of waiting around on the upper deck, slaughtering sea monsters, negotiating with Greek guardians, and killing the occasional goddess.

He knows he shouldn’t be distracted during a quest, but he can’t help but visualize your face every time he closes his eyes. Jungkook’s had a crush on you ever since you were 10 and a decade later it stubbornly refused to fade.

He is alright with that.

If anything, he should be thanking Aphrodite for finally letting you and him happen because he has more of a reason to fight- more of a reason to conquer.

For you. It was all for you.

He’s pulled from his trance by the footsteps of Mina and Taehyung, meaning that it was their turn for guard duty and his shift was up. Jungkook bites his lips to hide the smile of ecstasy threatening to swallow his entire face, and he realizes he must be ass at hiding his expression because Mina eyes him with pure suspicion.

He doesn’t care.

He zooms down the stairs, whizzing through the hallways before stopping at your door. He takes a deep breath, wiping off the dust from his clothes. He probably smells, but that’s okay. What nerd even has time to shower on a quest to save the world?

Opening the door, the softest gasp leaves his lips.

His hands fumble the Celestial Bronze knife in his grasp, and it falls to the ground with a clack clack clack.

Jungkook is starstruck, and he inhales shakily before he kicks the celestial knife to the side before swiveling around, ensuring no one was peering through the cracks before he closes the door behind him.

The room is decorated with candles, and no matter how the ship heaves and hoes, the candles remain in place, their flames still shining brightly and swaying with the movement of the shop.

Thank gods he’s dating a Hephaestus girl who can do freaky things like mechanically engineer non-flammable, non-movable candles that still retain the sultry ambiance of a normal candle.

He licks his lips.

In the middle of the bed, surrounded by rose petals sits you, in sheer black lace lingerie, staring at him innocently like you haven’t a clue how you’re twisting and turning his insides.

The lingerie fits you perfectly, accentuating every line and curve on your body and Jungkook truly truly thinks that you’re more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.

“Hey, Kook,” you whisper and Jungkook thinks he’s going to have a heart attack because he’s heard your voice millions of times but still thinks it sounds so sweet, beckoning him over to you.

He gulps.

What a woman you are.

“And before you ask, I engineered the door to only open for you,” you giggle, watching Jungkook as his fingers tousle with the upper hem of his shirt, throwing it off to reveal his Greek-god build. Before he gets to the bed, he tumbles out of his sweatpants, leaving them on the floor- not even thinking. His mind is only on you.

He doesn’t say anything, and he knows damn well that a stupid door isn’t what he’s thinking about. He reaches the bed, crawls to you, and with his knees on the bed, he lifts you like you’re nothing as he holds your body from your waist as he kisses you.

He kiss kisses you, his tongue in your mouth, moaning because you taste sweeter than you usually do- and he’s not sure if it’s because of the show you’ve put on for him, or because he’s falling more in love with you everyday.

The skin to skin contact is more real than ever. You’re so close that there isn’t a gap between your stomachs. All he can feel is you and the texture of your lace lingerie, and he absolutely melts into the feeling of you.

He groans.

That night, he gives himself to you completely because he belongs to you.

He remembers the whole thing so vividly.

On top of you, his eyes were lidded and his vision was blurred from the pleasure seeping throughout his body, sending chills down his spine, but he still refused to look away from you.

He remembers how beautiful you were underneath him, moaning his name and telling him you loved him.

With every thrust of his hips, his vision became more blurred- perhaps from the pleasure or because he was crying, vision clouded by tears because he’s so in love, and he never wants to lose you. The fire from the candles seems to burn more intensely, and when he reaches climax, the dreamy haze of you- your body and face- beneath the glow of the candles is all he sees.

While the fire from that night set his heart ablaze, it was also your very flames that charred his heart to a crisp, leaving Jungkook as nothing but an empty shell of his former self.

Exactly one week later, you died.

You, Jungkook, and Mingyu soared thousands of feet above Camp Half-Blood. The claws of your mechanical dragon Pulchra tousled with the physical form of the evil Earth mother herself: Gaia. You sat on your dragon, directing her to ascend higher and higher.

Mingyu, son of Jupiter, who was equipped with handy dandy flying skills, held Jungkook as he followed in pursuit of your dragon. As he darted through the clouds, Jungkook delivered fatal blows to the Earth mother.

Since Jungkook returned from Tartarus, he and Mingyu had been preparing a strategy to kill Gaia for good.

Gaia was the mother of the Earth, so taking away from her playing field and to the skies provided Jungkook and Mingyu with an advantage.

Mingyu, harnessing the power of the tempests, would conjure a storm, disorienting Gaia with lightning and wind. Jungkook would deliver the final blow with the spear of Ares- the same spear you retrieved from the Hephaestion, and the same spear Ares used to kill Alcyeoneus in the original Titan war.

But before Mingyu had the chance to summon a gust of wind, you used your flame manipulation to morph into a ball of fire to incinerate Gaia to death, engulfing Gaia and yourself in fire before blasting away like a meteor, leaving a trail of fiery residue in your wake.

That marked the final glimpse Jungkook saw of you.

Gaia’s death meant the successful completion of the quest, and Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter erupted into cheers at the demise of the evil Earth mother. Mingyu and Jungkook, on the other hand, were in shock as they remained stagnant in the atmosphere, watching the fiery residue simmer into nothingness.

Mingyu touches down softly on the earth, and Jungkook stumbles on the ground, falling to his knees. Campers from both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter roar with excitement, welcoming both men with jubilation.

Jungkook is unable to move, palms and knees still planted onto the ground, grappling with the weight of what he just witnessed. The cheers seem distant, drowned out by the echo of your fiery departure. Jungkook, typically fierce and resilient, allows panic to infiltrate his being, and it isn’t until Rose pushes past the crowd and falls to her knees, her palms desperately shaking Jungkook’s shoulders. “Where’s Y/N? Jungkook?! Where the fuck is Y/N?”

Unable to conjure a response, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, desperately scanning Rosie’s face for a hint of jest- like Oh! Just kidding! Y/N is right here!- but she’s not kidding, her hardened features indicative that nothing could ever be more serious.

Jungkook's agony manifests in a heart-wrenching scream, tears streaming down his face as he bangs his fists into the ground.

Rosie’s face drops and she clasps a palm over her lips. At that moment, Taehyung, Mina, and Namjoon push through the crowd, frantically scanning through the waves of people for you. Taehyung’s face turns grim at the sight of Jungkook sobbing into the ground, and Namjoon starts crying.

The cheers from the campers dwindle into silence.

"Legions, to the West! Each camper is to conduct a thorough search for Y/N. Mobilize all pegasi, airplanes, and flying apparatuses immediately!" Mingyu roars, and the camps erupt into a panic, fleeing into different directions to prepare for a comprehensive search.

After 24 hours of hunting, you never appear.

Jennie, daughter of Hades, confirms your death, and Jungkook’s heart plummets to his stomach.

The atmosphere at Camp Half-Blood is heavy with sorrow as campers of both Roman and Greek gather at the foot of Half-Blood Hill.

In the center of a clearing, a makeshift altar is erected, adorned with offerings and mementos that speak of the adventures and camaraderie you share with the camp. Symbols are scattered for each quest you successfully complete. Copies of your favorite books litter the ground, along with your favorite foods, figurines of your favorite anime characters, and prototypes of weapons and trinkets you engineer.

Each camper is presented a red bead adorned with the emblem of a flame to celebrate the daughter of Hephaestus that shines so brightly. The bead is intended to be threaded onto the necklaces worn by all Camp Half-Blood members, each bead representing a year spent at camp.

“Today, we gather not only to mourn the loss of a brave demigod but to celebrate a hero whose legacy will forever echo through the boundaries of this camp,” Chiron’s voice resonates with a mix of sadness and reverence.

As Chiron speaks, campers take turns sharing anecdotes of your courage, weaving a tapestry of memories that paint a vivid impact you have on those around you.

In Mingyu's embrace, Rose weeps openly, her tears flowing freely as Mina recollects the adventures the three girls embarked upon the quest to defeat Gaia. Tales unfold—of mastering swordplay, battling sea monsters, concocting healing potions, and dedicating free time to handcraft makeup and serums.

Mingyu is next, clearing his throat before he awkwardly retells stories of meeting you for the first time. Mingyu, son of the Roman god Jupiter, appeared at Camp Half-Blood randomly after having his memory wiped.

Most approached Mingyu with hostility while you and Namjoon welcomed him with kindness, showing him around camp and becoming his friend. Mingyu shares the tale of your and his encounter with Hercules on an island before entering Greece—a confrontation that angered Hercules and ended with him buried under a mound of macaroni (a lengthy tale). Mingyu sheds a tear before closing off, and to be quite honest, he still bears the weight of witnessing your death and not intervening. It would haunt him forever.

Jaehyun, son of Apollo and your first kiss, is up next. In a heartfelt moment, he openly declares his love for you in front of everyone, and while he has every right to mourn and grieve in a way that works for him, the few that know about you and Jungkook shift in discomfort.

No one utters a word about your blooming relationship with Jungkook, and unless Jungkook explicitly tells them to, their lips remain sealed.

Love is a beautiful thing. At times, some find themselves so enamored with another that they become compelled to openly declare and proclaim their love to the whole world. Arguably, an intimate, more private love is even more ideal. Loving someone discreetly creates an intimate connection known only to someone and their love, completely unburdened by the need for external validation, and that’s the type of love Jungkook intends to share with you.

Once Jaehyun sits down, the echo of Taehyung’s stomp captures the attention of all the campers.

“Y/N’s not dead,” Taehyung claims, “and I know she’s not.”

Namjoon eyes his friend with daggers in his pupils, but Taehyung refuses to relent.

“I’ve been best friends with Y/N since we were 12,” he seethes, “I would sense it if she were dead- so respectfully, we need to stop moping around and we have to find her.”

“Tae,” Jennie, daughter of Hades, rises and places a soothing hand on his back, “I sensed her death. I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

Taehyung shakes his head and brushes Jennie’s hand away. “I don’t give a fuck. Y/N is alive.”

In a rage of anger, Namjoon stands up and strikes Taehyung in the face. “Taehyung! Sit down. You’re tarnishing Y/N’s image and causing more pain for everyone here with your delusions. Y/N is in Elysium, and she’s at peace. Let her rest in peace.”

Chiron clears his throat and approaches the boys. “That’s true. She served well. Y/N has been on quests since she was 11. She was a diligent soldier. She deserves rest.”

Taehyung, clutching his face where Namjoon hit him, remains calm and shakes his head. “I would agree if she were actually dead, but she’s not. Isn’t that right Jungkook? Don’t you feel it?”

Jungkook, who has maintained a solemn silence until this moment, lifts his head from his hands. His gaze sweeps over the assembly of campers, then shifts to the shrine erected in your memory, finally locking eyes with Taehyung. Despite his swollen and puffy eyes, Jungkook stands, drawing his sword. "One hour. In sixty minutes, I’m leaving on a quest to find Y/N. Join me if you want or stay if you genuinely believe she's gone. We'll reconvene here. Pack your shit. This journey may take a while."

And you would think that a quest involving the strongest Roman and Greek demigods would lead to something, but it was like you never existed- every trace of you was gone.

The crew had a small glimmer of hope when they came across a piece of scrap metal from your mechanical dragon, Pulchra, drifting in the Atlantic ocean, but it led to nothing.

Jungkook scoured the entire world, yet you were gone, gone without a trace.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, Jungkook secludes himself, grappling with the guilt and pain of not being able to save you.

He leaves Camp Half-Blood for good, moving halfway across the world to Korea to live with his mother and pursue mortal education.

Typically, the whole mantra is Demigods have to stay in Camp Half-Blood to protect themselves from monsters!1!! But Jungkook, 20 years old and the strongest Greek demigod alive, doesn’t have any issue with that. Without a moment's hesitation, he ruthlessly eliminates any monster, adversary, or demon that dares to approach him.

Once, while Jungkook is hanging up his mother’s wet clothes on a clothing line, a hydra approaches the granny neighbors living below him. He doesn’t know what the mortals see - maybe a gigantic husky - but his granny neighbors living below him are scared nonetheless, screaming while the hydra squares them up.

Jungkook encountered a hydra on the quest of the Eternal Night when he was 14 - the key was to not cut off any of the hydra’s heads because it would only grow more. Instead, he hopped down a whole story and used his celestial bronze knife, the same one you crafted, to cut the hydra from its lower calf, causing the monster to crumble into dust.

Following that incident, his granny neighbors were likely even more frightened of him than the hydra, but he truly, truly could not bring himself to care.

He no longer even enjoys killing monsters; his fiery soul and obsession with combat faded into nothing but emptiness.

Jungkook is empty. So, so empty. He hates the gods and refuses to speak to his father, despite countless attempts from Ares to reach out to him.

Instead, he immerses himself in a hedonistic mortal lifestyle. His Harley-Davidson motorcycle is still a familiar sight, roaring through the streets to bars in Seoul, clubs in Itaewon, and occasionally cruising along the coastal beaches of Busan.

It takes him some time to fully embrace the hookup culture, but one drunken night at a bar leads him down the path of one-night-stands and sneaking away in the middle of the night. The first girl, whose name he can't recall, is attractive and makes the first move. With nothing to lose, and alcohol in his system, he goes to hers.

It's okay. It isn’t anything special, but he finds himself unable to finish, and on the journey home, a sense of self-disgust washes over him.

On a chilly December night, Jungkook finds himself at Cakeshop, a nightclub in Itaewon. Around winter, Mina, who is visiting family in Japan, decides to pay Jungkook a visit and accompanies him to the club for a few drinks and a night out.

Of course, Jungkook is delighted to see an old friend, no matter how horrible his condition was the last time he saw her. He takes her out to a few meals and rents out the neighboring flat for her.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter, the duo enjoys a few drinks, exchanging stories and catching up on the time they spent apart. As the night unfolds, they explore the different sections of the club, from the energetic dance floor to the cozy lounges, where they sit continuing their conversation.

Mina tells Jungkook stories from Camp Jupiter — how she has risen through the ranks and been promoted as Praetor of the Roman legion, and Jungkook is genuinely happy to hear it.

Gasps resonate throughout the lounge, and when Mina and Jungkook turn their heads in the direction of the commotion, their faces drop. The most facially aesthetic woman he’s ever seen gracefully maneuvers through the crowd, prompting the masses to part like the Red Sea.

Her gaze fixes on Mina and Jungkook, and without any invitation, she assertively joins them in the lounge. Seating herself directly across from them, her presence transforms the lounge into an exclusive VIP area. Security personnel, clad in sleek black suits, swiftly cordon off the lounge from public access, blocking away any crazy men and women who try to leap at her.

“Hello Mina, dear. You look lovely tonight,” the woman says, pulling lip gloss from her clutch purse and reapplying it to her lips. Mina sneers at the woman, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care because the woman immediately redirects her attention to Jungkook.

Aphrodite.

“Jungkook, dear, I need to talk to you,” she states, voice becoming rigidly serious.

Jungkook and Mina exchange looks, the disdain in her eyes appearing like she wants to leave and Jungkook nearly obliges because he certainly isn’t the biggest fan of the goddess either.

“You need to talk to your father,” she solicits, not even having the decency to look at Jungkook while she addresses him, her eyes focused on the compact mirror in her manicured hands.

Aphrodite was arguably one of the cruelest goddesses, even more so than Jungkook's father, Ares. Love and war work in tandem, but love is the subtle dagger concealed in a silk glove. Aphrodite's influence wasn't just about the sweet intoxication of romance; it was a weapon, a potent brew of desire that she skillfully wielded to manipulate the hearts of both gods and mortals.

And she won. Jungkook let Aphrodite win because he was so tired, so defeated.She allowed Jungkook to be with his love for three mere weeks before ripping her from him in the most horrific way.

“Respectfully, fuck you.” Jungkook stands, preparing to leave when a piercing glare from Aphrodite halts him in his tracks, instantly enveloping the entire room in an eerie stillness, stopping time.

“Jungkook, dear,” she repeats, her voice more menacing, "You're well aware of the consequences when demigods show disrespect to gods. It weakens us, and the delicate balance of the world hangs in jeopardy. Considering that your father, a god, is desperately trying to connect with you, you currently hold a position of advantage. I recommend you take a seat and engage in a conversation before that advantage slips away."

Jungkook grimaces, exchanging worried glances with Mina before sitting down and placing his palms on the table.

“What is it?”

“Your father wants to speak with you,” she begins, “and he’s heartbroken that you won’t give him the chance for a conversation. I can’t deal with a heartbroken boyfriend, it’s affecting our relationship.”

“Mom, that’s selfish,” Mina intervenes, “Jungkook’s been through enough, and you came all the way here just for that?”

Aphrodite’s features soften, and she looks at her daughter sadly. “That’s not all. Jungkook needs to return to Camp Half-Blood,” she adds, to which Jungkook shakes his head.

“I’ll talk to Ares, but I’m not ready to return- not yet,” he grimaces.

“Jungkook,” Aphrodite places a palm on top of Jungkook’s, “I understand how you feel. I truly do. You loved Y/N, and the way you felt for her- it was of the utmost honor. But Jungkook, your friends need you. Though Gaia is deceased, the battle isn’t over. Remnants of her children remain, and Flame Warden has overtaken my husband Hephaestus’s forge in Mount Olympus.”

Hephaestus.

Jungkook inwardly recoils at the mention of your father, Hephaestus, and he cringes that Aphrodite is claiming Hephaestus as her husband, even after her ongoing affair with Jungkook’s own father.

“Hephaestus,” Jungkook says, “Does he- does he even care that Y/N is dead?” Jungkook whispers, eyes reflecting despondency.

Aphrodite softens infinitely. “Of course he does, sweetie. As you're aware, it goes beyond the cosmic structure for gods to nurture connections with their demigod offspring. Hephaestus bears numerous regrets, and even rescuing Y/N was beyond his capacity. His disheartenment led to the infiltration of his ember forge- he hasn’t been the same since Y/N died.”

Jungkook glowers at that, pulling his hand from Aphrodite’s. “So the forge you’re referring to- is it the same forge where Celestial Bronze is created?”

Aphrodite nods. “Now that the Ember Forge has been breached, the Hermes Express faces a disruption in delivering celestial bronze to Camp Half-Blood and the Cyclops' forges. The demigods at Camp Half-Blood are currently unable to craft weapons. As we enter the Golden Era of Demigods, celestial bronze is crucial for arming ourselves and defending against the threat of monsters. As you're aware, the collaboration of a god and a demigod is essential to defeating a giant. Jungkook, your assistance is paramount; we need you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow. “The Golden Era of Demigods?”

Aphrodite acknowledges with a nod. "Your generation, my daughter Mina, and your companions are on the brink of their 20s. In Greek and Roman history, this is an extraordinary development. Typically, demigods meet their fate in their teens, yet now, the significant strength of demigods in their 20s is unprecedented. Jungkook, we stand at a unique opportunity to eradicate the menace of monsters once and for all."

Jungkook looks down, his lip caught between his teeth. "You vowed to change your ways. The gods made promises to recognize their children and to at least talk to them," Jungkook seethes, frustration evident. "Mina’s right here, and barely a word has been spoken to her. Progress won't be made unless the gods acknowledge and take responsibility for their shortcomings."

Aphrodite frowns, “Mina doesn’t want to talk to me! Isn’t it good parenting to leave your teenage daughter alone? The gods are trying their best, Jungkook. Your father is trying his best.”

Mina places a soothing hand over Jungkook’s fist.

“Jungkook, you should go,” she expresses gently, “The Ember forge…” she trails off, “Y/N would want you to do this. Her siblings in the Hephaestus cabin need the celestial bronze. Do it for her.”

Her words plunge Jungkook into a whirlwind of memories: the moments you spent forging his Celestial Bronze knife, the way he annoyed you to hide his colossal crush on you, and how he has carried that same Celestial Bronze knife ever since.

Aphrodite nods in agreement. “Do it for Y/N-”

Jungkook slams his fists on the table. “Don’t speak of her.”

Jungkook knows very well that Aphrodite could have obliterated him on the spot, but she showed mercy by smiling and nodding at Jungkook.

“Fuck it. I’m doing it. Fuck it,” Jungkook murmurs, much to Aphrodite’s delight and Mina’s satisfaction.

The quest now dubbed the Quest of the Ember Forge was triumphant, and it marked the beginning of Jungkook’s return to Camp Half-Blood.

He reimmersed himself in the camaraderie of camp life, and now that he and his friends were of age, they spent hours in the Big House drinking, reveling in their newfound adulthood.

It brought Jungkook so much joy to see Namjoon loosen up, laughing at the stupidest jokes Taehyung made while they downed shots of soju and played Mythomagic, an old card game from their childhood.

The laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the spirited discussions about the recent quest, reminiscences of past adventures, and plans for the future. They toasted to their victories and shared stories of their individual journeys during the time apart.

Even Chiron, the wise centaur, couldn't resist joining in the festivities, regaling them with tales of ancient mythology and imparting wisdom in his own humorous way.

The once-burdened weight on Jungkook's shoulders lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and connection.

For the first time in two years, Jungkook felt at peace, at home, and disallowed the plague of guilt to overwhelm him as he laughed with his friends.

Jungkook resumes sword fighting in the dueling ground, becoming the sword fighting teacher for all the cabins.

Out of all the campers, there is one kid he absolutely adores: a 13-year-old Jungwon, another sibling of Jungkook’s.

Jungkook finds himself observing Jungwon from a distance, the spark in his eyes reminiscent of a younger Jungkook. Soot covers the younger boy's face, and sweat drips from his armor like he’s been out there for hours.

“Kid!” Jungkook approaches, unsheathing his sword. He tilts his head and grins. “Care for a duel?”

Jungwon grins, raising his brows before licking his lips. If anything, Jungwon 100% emits the fiery, combat-crazed aura Jungkook is renowned for. There is no doubt in Jungkook’s mind that this kid is going to be a beast.

The dueling ground buzzes with anticipation as other campers gather to watch the showdown between the seasoned warrior and his spirited protégé. Jungkook and Jungwon circle each other, their swords catching glints of sunlight.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jungkook lunges forward, his movements swift and precise. Jungwon, fueled by determination, meets each strike with resilience beyond his years.

In a final, calculated move, Jungkook disarms Jungwon, ending the duel with a victorious flourish. The onlookers erupt into cheers, acknowledging the mastery of their esteemed sword-fighting teacher.

Jungkook stalks over to Jungwon and helps him up before tousling his hair. “They gotta send you on a quest soon. You’re more than ready.”

Jungwon’s eyes sparkle as he addresses Jungkook. “Seriously? Can you put in a good word for me to Chiron?”

Jungkook nods, but a sudden realization overtakes him.

He doesn’t want to send Jungwon on a quest.

Jungkook's not keen on the idea of sending Jungwon on a quest, at all. Quests are rough, life-altering, and there's a chance Jungwon might not make it back in one piece. The thought of putting his younger sibling through all that hardship and potential danger sews seeds of peril into his consciousness.

On one side, there's a deep desire to shield his younger brother from harm - no way in hell would he let any monsters or giants destroy the innocent twinkle in his eyes. On the other hand, he understands that quests are an inevitable part of a demigod’s journey - it’s not like he wants Jungwon to get soft.

While Jungkook is frozen at that dawning realization, he follows Jungwon’s train of vision to a familiar face in the distance.

It's Isabella, a daughter of Hephaestus, casually strolling with her friends near the dueling arena.

He doesn’t miss the twinkle in Jungwon’s eyes and the blush flushing his cheeks as he turns his head to keep his eyes on Isabella.

Jungkook throws up that night.

One year later, Jungkook visits Mina, Rose, and Mingyu at Camp Jupiter to aid the Roman legion with dueling lessons.

There, a budding romance blooms with a descendant of Apollo, Sofia.

It’s not like Jungkook means for it to happen; he had sworn off love for the rest of his life. Yet, he couldn't ignore the way Sofia's eyes lingered on him. And when she found her way into his hotel room at night, Jungkook couldn't bring himself to ask her to leave.

After that trip, Sofia visits Jungkook at Camp Half-Blood.

Sofia is now Jungkook’s girlfriend and he feels content.

Night after night, Jungkook pays a visit to the shrine dedicated to you, a ritual of remembrance and honor. Sofia, understanding and respecting his feelings, never presses him to share the details of his relationship with you.

Over time, as Jungkook finds solace in their growing connection, he starts bringing Sofia to join him in leaving offerings at your shrine. In those moments, a sense of closure and the gentle warmth of moving forward envelops Jungkook's heart. It’s time to move forward.

That is, until he runs into you.

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