#In the second timeline it's about the same but even with the encouragement of the ghosts he's just Not Ready to reveal himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 1 year

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Just Friends (Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags 🏷 18+ only, minors dni. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be.

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration.

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men.

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date.

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time.

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña.

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb.

Of course he knew Valeria.

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different.

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you.

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things.

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home.

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you.

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse.

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.”

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again.

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed.

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him.

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole.

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you.

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him.

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.”

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile.

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good.

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch.

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier.

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin.

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him.

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide.

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor.

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him.

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen.

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself.

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true.

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge.

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely.

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you.

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come.

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release.

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely.

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants.

“J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder.

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—”

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you.

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow?

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña angst #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier peña smut #narcos smut #javier pena smut

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taegularities · 4 months

Text

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep.

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching.

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh…

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 3 months

Note

How about a Hualian x calamity!reader oneshot? Maybe HC and reader know each other already and pursue XL together? Idk, love your writing tho!

Gang up

Hua Cheng x calamity!reader x Xie Lian

So sorry it took a while, I had strep these past few days but I feel good now so ty for being patient with me 😙🖤🖤

I tried to make it vague enough to where you can input your guy's own character in there 🥰🙏

I hope it isn't too short, and if you can't tell I pulled some make believe facts out of my ass. Have to change the story up a little bit

Spoilers Below!!!

____________________________________

Everyone talks about the four calamities, but recently all three realms have been talking about a fifth one. Another terrifying, devastation level calamity. Because that's all the heavenly officials, someone else to worry about.

That's your bad, woops. It's not like it was on purpose. Maybe. It's not like it was your fault. Really! They should have known by now but your crimes and deeds have been hidden behind Crimson rain's for so long, everyone has thought there were only four calamities. Now, with so much activity from Hua Cheng it's impossible to hide behind him. Oh well.

Now you get your own title, lore, rumors and all that nice stuff since everyone knows you now. It's crazy how fast words spread.

You've always been here, in fact you and Hua Cheng appeared one right after the other. So of course with such a close timeline one of you was going to overshadow the other. Not that you have a problem with this.

Surprisingly you and Hua Cheng know each other well. You met a long, long time ago and have been friends ever since. Since you're such close friends. Why not live in paradise manor together, why not rule a ghost city together too? The two of you really are glued to each other's side.

The base of your friendship? Xie Lian. Now of course it's more than that. You're both dead, both calamities, both know Xie Lian, would do anything for Xie Lian, both knew Xie Lian. . .

You guys still hold affections for one another though so it's okay. And the best thing? I lied. You guys aren't friends at all. After hundreds of years of knowing each other you and Hua Cheng have seen the absolute worst in one another. You still stayed. He still stayed. Just because you guys are lovers doesn't mean that you're going to stop pursuing Xie Lian either. There's nothing wrong with three.

Now the second best thing is that none of you harbor jealousy against the other because usually you guys are side by side like Siamese cats causing trouble.

Very often the two of you gang up to pursue Xie Lian together. You guys even bully heavenly officials together. It's all a part of the fun.

So when Xie Lian initially hears about one ghost? He meets two. Like, okay so he has two calamity body guards. Neat. The same goes as follows. Just when he thought he only had to deal with one smart mouth, it's two. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are very annoyed by this but Xie Lian finds it endearing.

It's actually very nice. He used to have two people by his side, but then the trio was separated. Now he has two people by his side again and he doubts that you two will be leaving anytime soon.

Though, since you're actually a known calamity now the stories and details change up a little bit. Xie Lian can click a few more pieces of the puzzle together.

I mean how do you think Hua Cheng got so good in bed, he wasn't practicing on statues alone. How did Hua Cheng get his smooth, suave, attitude? That'd be you too. You had to encourage him to actually make a move on his precious dianxia instead of seeing him act like a blushing maiden anytime Xie Lian looks at him.

Not that you can speak differently on that one. You've always been there through Hua Cheng's worse and. . . worser. You're both awfully silly. Silly enough to give Xie Lian your ashes one random day.

When Xie Lian woke up with a ring of ashes around his neck? Pause. One ring? Isn't one missing? There's two of you. Hua Cheng and you so, where are your ashes.

He's absolutely delighted and curious when he finds out the two of your ashes are mixed. He finds it endearing the two of you trust each other that much and are so close. That's how he learned the two of you were lovers.

Because that's a big risk, a big promise. To mix your ashes and give it to one person. If Hua Cheng goes, you go too. If you go, Hua Cheng goes too. Which on a usual note would never happen.

Hua Cheng breaking Xie Lian's shackles is not a usual note though. He's devastated when not only one of his lovers fades away into a flock of butterflies but when his other lover does too.

The two of you would never leave him alone though, not with that ring around his neck. He knew you two would come back and you both did. Hand in hand, running to Xie Lian excitedly. The two of you would never have to disappear like that again.

Xie Lian doesn't mind that there's two of you. he has two hands, more the merrier. He's happy and loved. Isn't that all that matters?

____________________________________

I thought this new ashes idea of mine was cute so 🥰🙏 I hope you guys find it cute too

Sorry about grammar mistakes

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf x male reader #xie lian x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian #mxtx tgcf #mxtx #Tgcf oneshot

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teecupangel · 7 months

Note

Normally, Desmond is sent back in time to mess with things.

But what if it wasn't him?

Like, maybe Desmond couldn't go back in time himself but he could, in the split second he touched the apple, send someone else.

What if one of his ancestors went back in time? (Upon their deaths or something.)

I imagine a young Altair (who might be using a fake name) running around Italy with a tired Ezio following like a worried mother hen. (No, Claudia, he is not hovering he is just concerned) He ends up taking Altair under his wing (No, Claudia, it is not adoption.)

Or maybe Altair ends up in Bayek's time, Oh! Or Connor in Ezio's time. (Edward and Ezio would either get along badly or be too powerful if they were together in the same time period.)

These boys ruin the timeline and somehow save the world/future by simply stumbling through everything with no clue what's going on. and of course the power of friendship and really sharp blades.

Desmond and Clay are laughing their asses off in the afterlife as their ancestors destroy centuries worth of carefully calculated plans. (They might also manipulate things a little to help.)

And the time traveling ancestors for the most part, are doing the best they can in their current situation.

They are freaking the fuck out the whole time but are excellent at hiding it.

Poor Ezio.

(No, Altair, you can't kill that person because that have information we need, yes, I'm sure, Claudia don't encourage him.)

Well… How about we add some… ‘order’ to the chaos?

Desmond only had a fraction of a second to send his ancestor back in time.

And he hesitated.

He didn’t know which one to send.

Should it be Altaïr? Altaïr always felt like he would find out what to do even if he was given only minimal clues.

But Ezio was his prophet, the one he had been with the longest…

Ratonhnhaké:ton though… he deserves answers. He deserves the truth.

And when he woke up…

In that endless sea of gray…

The first word he heard were…

“’Morning. Which fucked up timeline do you want to hear first?”

Desmond sat and blinked as Clay stood before him, arms crossed with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Uuuhh…”

“Do you want to hear about how Edward Kenway managed to save his grandson and his grandson’s mother from the fires that should have killed her?” Clay asked before adding, “Oh… and he’s learned that his son’s a Templar by the way. At least, one of his old friends believe he’s actually Edward Kenway. If you think the Kenway Family Drama is bad when you were reliving Connor’s memories, then you gotta see the top tier drama that’s happening with Edward and Haytham right now.”

“Or maybe you want to hear about how Connor got kicked into Ezio’s time? He has no idea what’s happening but he got appointed as Federico’s combat instructor. He knows jackshit, by the way, about the tragedy that’s about to happen but, hey, at least Giovanni believes he’s an Assassin from another country or something. Oh.” Clay rubbed his chin as he added, “Connor doesn’t like how close Giovanni is with the Medici by the way. Lorenzo reminds him a bit of Washington or maybe he’s projecting, who knows?”

“Maybe you’ll like to know how your dear prophet is doing? Well, he’s doing badly in preserving the damn timeline that’s for sure. Let’s see… he got in touch with Alamut and managed to bluff his way into making them believe he’s the mentor of a destroyed Assassin branch from the crusader lands, he got the mentor’s permission to make his own branch in Levant, made a deal with said mentor to become a thorn in Al Mualim’s side and find out what he’s hiding, adopted Altaïr and even went as far as adopt Abbas because he believed he could ‘change’ things.” Clay was quiet for a moment before he added, “Oh and his branch is in the underground temple in Jerusalem so he has the Apple with him already.”

“Then there’s Altaïr.” Clay said with such… annoyance Desmond was actually afraid of what Altaïr had done. Clay rubbed the side of his forehead as he started, “See, they can only be transported into what counts as their past so we can’t have something like Altaïr being pushed into his future in Ezio’s time or something. And, since your only instruction to the Moraes was to ‘change the past’, they had to improvise with Altaïr considering he’s more or less the starting point. They had to pick another one of your ancestors who was important to your past and this world’s future so…”

“Altaïr’s been sent to the time of the Isu-Human war and his knowledge of the POEs and getting unconstrained access to the POEs at their full power… well… let’s just say…” Clay’s tone was drier than the desert as he said, “The Isus didn’t know what hit them.”

Desmond could only stare at Clay as he said.

“Soooo… which one do you want to contact first as their ‘patron’?”

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ma1dita · 2 months

Text

solipsism timeline/lore expansion

link to fic -> solipsism - an extreme form of idealism that denies that the human mind has any valid ground for believing in the existence of anything but itself. At the beginning of the first scene, trouble thinks she’s making Luke up in her mind, like a lot of things after she leaves, but concurs that maybe it’s the best thing she’s done.

This fic is heavily inspired by Doctor Who, specifically the Doctor & River Song’s diverging(?) timelines. If you haven’t watched the show, here are the things you need to know for this fic:

The more Luke sees trouble, the more she knows about what he’s done to fulfill the prophecy. The more trouble sees Luke, he’s increasingly unaware of what is ahead and the things he will do.

Trouble first meets him at his oldest before errrr…. TLO. The last time she sees him after her graduation, she’s visited by a version of him that had just signed his soul away to Kronos. Their timelines are going in opposite directions.

This is all made possible by Backbiter, Luke’s sword that is established in the show/novel to be able to create time portals. Luke can literally chill in limbo for as long as he wants.

That makes this fic special, because it exists in timeline established on the masterpost, but also in snippets between fics, in which some are not even published yet.

He does not visit her when they’re 22. Honestly because it was a terrible fucking year, lots of people die, and he can’t face her.

Now hang on to your seats and bear with me as I explain ‘where’ they are in each scene.

Introduction takes place right before the second scene, but I use it as a placeholder since its outside of the ‘timeline’. Luke prayed to Hestia to protect trouble as seen in trouble’s coming for you and it’s assumed he continues to do so even after his betrayal. She has always been his home.

first scene: Takes place close to a year after Luke’s defection from camp, a few weeks after trouble (20 y/o) visits Annabeth in Virginia. Healing has been difficult for her and in no way is it linear—so she thinks she’s wasted when she sees a 23 year old Luke taking her home from the bar. In his timeline, he has given his body post Battle of the Labyrinth to be a host and is barely there. The tiny sliver of humanity left in him wants to see her, even if it hurts so he takes over for a bit. This is his last chance of seeing her through his own eyes.

second scene: Takes place right after Hestia visits trouble, later in the day. This is the only instance in this fic where they are the same age and relatively in the same timeline. For trouble, it is fall, after The Sea of Monsters, in which that was the last time she saw him (and the first time she saw ‘her’ Luke after the betrayal. Luke is 21 here, but he’s experienced the events from The Titan’s Curse in which Thalia kicks his ass off a cliff. After being saved by Kronos, he goes to see trouble (and gets rightfully socked in the face).

third scene: Takes place after The Titan’s Curse, and trouble (21 y/o) is ringing in the new year after Luke disappears from the cliff and is found to be somewhere, but alive. Luke is (hc almost 20) freshly running from having slashed Percy and betraying his friends. The portal you saw him open in the show? Yeah he ran straight to her. I have no more words.

fourth scene: Takes place the morning of trouble’s graduation in the spring, four years later right before The Last Olympian. She’s lost her little brother, lost faith in Luke (we’ll hash this out when we get there folks), and then Luke (19 y/o) visits her from a few days after he complies to working with Kronos. There is nothing she can do to change his mind—its a prophecy after all. But despite everything, trouble (22 y/o) wants to protect him, so she encourages the boy she loves despite everything she knows he has done to hurt her and their friends. In the end, that love never goes away for both of them, on opposite sides of it all.

#trouble!verse

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ponderingmoonlight · 4 months

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Thank you to everyone who supported my blog in 2023 🤍

I can't put into words how much I love every single one of you for your support. No matter if you like one fic of mine or my whole blog, no matter if you write me anon or leave a comment. Let me tell you that I appreciate every minor interaction with the stuff I create over here 🤍

When I started this blog in September (I think lol) I was so scared of sharing my thoughts. But you were supportive right from the start, encouraging me to follow my ideas even in times I didn't feel like it. You might not even know how much you helped me through dark times, how much your constant support lifted me up and helped me getting over the shit that happened 2023 (like Shibuya damn). You have become such an important variable in my life that this blog is literally like a baby to me 😭

Thank you for sticking with me through 2023. I hope you'll stay in the new year as well 🤍

Also, I'd like to take this moment to pay a special thanks to my lovely moots:

@belovedvamp I know we basically just started talking, but you seem like such a fun person and I totally relate to your Yuta affection lol. Thank you for supporting my works through your constant likes, comments, reblogs and requests. I hope we'll stay in touch this new year 🤍

@risuola you are such a sweetheart. Not only is your writing chef's kiss and you were one of my first ever obsessions here on Tumblr (you are still lol), but you make me laugh and cry like no other. You literally seem like such a fun person and put a smile of my face the second you post. Please keep up being so damn cool and please NEVER stop writing those amazing fanfics 🤍

@kawaiiakamaru we aren't moots for that long but you are supporting me for so long. Just seeing a comment or a blog entry from you makes me happy, as well as your cute profile pic (please never change it hehe). Your first ever fic was absolutely amazing, please keep up the good work and make sure to tag me in your new fics of this year 🤍

@sorrowfulrosebud it's funny how we met through that dang annoying anon who still keeps bugging you lol. In some kind of way, I'm actually thankful for them. Not because of the nonsense they are getting on your nerves with, but because I got to get in touch with your wonderful blog. You are funny, you seem passionate and are so talented like it's absolutely insane! I hope you finally get to live in peace on your blog and continue blessing my timeline 🤍

@ynackerman9499 first of all let me tell you how absolutely sorry I am for not publishing any of your requests recently. They're all so good I literally don't know where to start 😭 you are such a sweet person, our little talk made me giggle the entire time and I love that we basically have the same taste in anime and anime men hehe. Thank you for supporting my blog and especially looking out for me the whole time, I hope we'll talk again soon 🤍

@sitarawrites you actually were one of my first moots over here and our conversations were priceless. I was so happy when you finally decided to share your great works with us! You are truly such a talented writer who makes us feel the emotions of our favorite jjk characters like none other. Also, I love that you are a badass bitch who takes no shit from others. You are actually my example when it comes to badass characters 😭 I wish you all the best and hope that you get the love, appreciation and clamness you deserve in 2024 🤍

@sunshine7queen you are my no 1 supporter since day one and I love you from the bottom of my heart for it 😭 Everytime I open up my tumblr and see that you left a comment under my works (like you literally always do), I get excited immediately, like why is it so fun to chat with you. Also, you share the greatest treasures when it comes to cool artwork or other fics: you're my greatest source for great content over here! Let me thank you for every comment, every like and every reblog and how you always make me feel good about myself. You are a true sweetheart, stay the way you are and have the lovliest new year 🤍

@wifenanami your obsession for Nanami is just as great as mine and I love you for it. But not only that, you are my number one when it comes to Nanami requests and therefore fics on this blog. Literally half of my Nanami fics exist because of your great request that make me laugh and warm my heart while shattering it and making me cry. Also, your artwork is way too good for this world. Sometimes I go through my requests just to see your pics 😭 Thank you for making my 2023 better with your comments, your aesthetic blog and your request. I hope you're sticking with me through 2024 as well 🤍

@selen1um-hexafluoride you are such a funny person, your blog entries made my day so often that I lost count. Let me tell you that your unnecessary opinions definetely matter to me and that I enjoy every single one of them. You write your hcs like a pro, I literally can't wait to see more of you. Please don't stop writing and make sure to tag me in your works (when you find out how hehe) 🤍

@sanicsmut girl, you're the love of my life. Seriously, since that day you decided to comment under my first ever Choso works you've been by my side and supported my works even though they didn't have your favorites (=Choso and Hiromi lol) in them. Even though we don't chat that often, I love your lil comments under my shitpostings as well as I love to see what's going on over there on your blog. You seem like such a funny talented person it's seriously unfair 😭 Also, see this as a petition for you to post more artwork of yours because it's GORGEOUS! Love ya, thank you for all the support and let me see you again this year 🤍

@lees-chaotic-brain oh Petra, you are such a sweet, passionately and badass chick it makes me all emotional. You were my first moot over there and stuck with me ever since. Even though we didn't talk much these last weeks because we're both pretty stressed, I still adore you and our conversations with all my heart. You are such a strong person, going through all this hate of last year with confidence, not letting anyone getting you down that you have been a true example for me. Despite all the things you've been through, despite all the shit you have to endure, you're still so fucking strong and I truly admire you for it! Also, you are one of my all time favorite writers here on Tumblr - no one does it like you! Let me take this opportunity to thank you. Thank you for being my first ever moot, thank you for listening when nobody else did, thank you for the amazing content you gift us with. I'm so glad I met you and I am beyond glad that you are the person that you are. Let nobody ever take your spark away from you (and I publicy promise to finally get your request done) 🤍

@lizziespoem we didn't hear much from each other the last few weeks, but let me tell you how proud I am that you're looking out for yourself and that you put yourself first. Even though I miss your gorgeous fanfics and to just talk to you, I hope with all my heart that you are doing well my german tumblr bestie (melde dich gerne mal wenn du Zeit und Lust hast) 🤍

@hitori979 you're truly making me emotional. You have to be one of the few people who supported me from day one. Your endless comments, you defending me, you liking my whole stuff. Like...I can't even put into words how much you mean to me. I know how busy you are and that you rarely find the time to scroll through Tumblr and get in touch with my works, but you always make sure that I feel appreciated. Even though you don't even know me (and how I just realized I don't even know your name) you check on me from time to time and cheer me up when I feel down. I love our little conversations about jjk manga, I love your opinion on basically EVERYTHING and I love how geniuely funny you are. Let me tell you that your support means the world to me and that I get excited just when reading your blog name. Let me tell you that your ideas inspire me and are actually the source of like half of my best works! You seem like such a smart and empathic person. I really hope the new year brings you less work stress and all the things you ever wish for. You deserve the world, love. And I will be forever thankful for you finding my blog and deciding to support me through everything 🤍

@lavenderdrxp thank you thank you thank you for your likes, reblogs and comments. I loved our lil chitchat and actually enjoyed chatting with you so much that I hope we'll be able to do it anytime soon again 😭 Also, let me promise you that I'll publish your request this year hehe. Have the happiest new year with new episodes of our favorite anime coming soon 🤍

Okay, now I'm crying a lil on my own. Just...thank y'all. Have the nicest 2024 ever 😭

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #2023 recap #I love all of you #i love my mutuals #moots #tumblr friends #you're the best <3

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joe-england · 1 year

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I thought I was done, but it pulled me back. See what you’ve done to me, Matt Braly?? Alright, one more visit to this timeline, and the rest of the story is up to your imagination.

- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -

Footnotes: Can’t believe I put this much extra work into this. Accursed inspiration!

There are Easter eggs all over. Did you catch the reference about Marcy solving world hunger? How about Sasha’s Arnold pose? This was hard, but I did have fun.

Speaking of inspiration…. I’d like to mention my slightly serious motivation for making this AU. Amphibia's finale broke my heart in different ways. In particular, it still haunts me that, by all indications, Anne died. Which, by itself, I can accept. I appreciate heroic tragedy. But beyond that... what breaks me is the idea that she went unmourned. That someone else took over her story, and none of her friends and family even care that the girl they knew and loved passed on. They think Anne just came back. Her sacrifice went unnoticed, and we’re given a new Anne to love.

Like Domino, she was irreplaceable. But they got a replacement.

I mean, I have OCD. I don’t let stuff like this go. It's exactly the sort of thing that keeps coming back to me! I mean it when I say I'm haunted! It's Anne's ghost on my shoulder!

That's part of what inspired me to make Dominos. I wanted a story in which Anne lived. Her sacrifice was still a sacrifice, it really cost her something, but it's still her. The same Anne who went through all her adventures and made all those friends.

Make no mistake, I’d never claim that this is a “better” ending than what Matt gave us. That’s silly. It’s his story, and his muse, and I honor and thank him for it. And maybe it was his intention that Anne really just migrated into a second life! But there’s a lot of doubt.

So this was my therapy. My way of saying Anne really did unambiguously survive somewhere, at least in my little AU. Just making it clear, I mean no disrespect to Matt, or Amphibia, or to anyone who worked on it! This is made in tribute, not protest. For love of the Calamity Trio!

That said, I’m so glad this became popular, at least a little. If you enjoy my work, I encourage you to check out my Patreon campaign! It becomes much easier to create when I have support. In any case, thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great 2023!

http://www.patreon.com/JoeEngland

Nonprofits Helping Immigrants at the U.S.-Mexico Border

#amphibia #amphibia au #amphibiaau #marcy wu #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #calamity trio #my art 2022 #fan fiction #dominos #the hardest thing #matt braly

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albentelisa · 3 months

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Hello ☺️

I know you've done general Jim, jlaire, and troll dad Blinky headcanons, but do you have any specific to the new timeline and even beyond? I love all of your ask posts btw, such fantastic Au's and our hc generally almost always align!

Hi!

Thanks for your kind words ❤ ❤ ❤

My oldest headcanon about the new timeline exists since July, 21, 2021 (when I wrote this oneshot https://archiveofourown.org/works/32729335 ). This one is that Jim keeps the new amulet and Excalibur in the new timeline.

My other headcanons about the new timeline and beyond were build through the two and half years (a lot of stuff keeps expanding, to be honest).

So here's my really long post about the happy ending for everyone.

Jim has managed to make everything right in this timeline, even with some stuff he didn't predict (like Enrique was still kidnapped - it just happened on a different date).

Everyone in the new timelines has these odd hunches about things they experienced in the first timeline. Like Claire having some odd attraction to Jim, Blinky being fatherly to Jim, and Barbara getting random thoughts that Strickler might be inhuman. Toby has it the worst as he can't help but think that everything is not his adventure and that Jim would be a better hero.

Because of hunches both Claire and Barbara find out the truth way earlier.

However, Toby is the first who realize that Jim somehow knows about all the incoming events. Jim has no choice but to confess about the time travel. He keeps the details from everyone though, especially those that might cause complications.

Jim brings Douxie into the team before the final encounter with Bular. Claire requests Douxie to become her magic teacher once she joins and he agrees.

Aja, Krel, and Varvatos join once they arrive on Earth.

Draal lives. Vendel is injured but also survives.

Angor gets his soul back this time. He isn't happy with Strickler but decides to let it go per Jim's request.

Toby spares Bular (much to Jim's shock). Bular starts to live in Toby's house, trying to reconsider his ways. Initially, Draal watches his actions and they eventually become friends.

Morgana fails to possess Claire. She possesses Angor instead.

Strickler manages to convince some changelings to switch sides, so more changelings survive.

Jim doesn't allow Merlin to transform anyone into a half-troll. He shows Merlin Excalibur (leaving the latter speechless), so Merlin begrudgingly agrees to try Jim's plan first.

After Gunmar's death, Bular inherits Decimaar and uses it to liberate all the trolls his father controlled.

Jim and Claire talk Morgana into trying to give co-existence a second chance. She isn't convinced fully but agrees to wait.

The residents of the Trollmarket never go to New Jersey, which means that Aja and Krel have more people to help them.

Jim is deadset on never letting anyone be hit with an onyx shard. He ends up taking the hit for Claire - only to discover that it has no effect on him (as Excalibur cannot harm his owner and Jim is technically another owner because of the time paradox).

Merlin isn't happy to learn that the Green Knight is actually King Arthur. The same goes for Morgana, but she blames Merlin for her brother ending that way.

Merlin finally realizes that he has been too stubborn all the time, refusing to see other options. He uses all his magic to seal Bellroc and Skrael and entrusts Douxie with leading the new king of Camelot.

AND NOW TO BEYOND

Jim is technically the King of Camelot now, which makes him rather uncomfortable at first. However, with Douxie's encouragement, he realizes that more than an authority figure, he's King of knights, a noble protector of both humanity and magical beings, and the first among equals.

Claire continues with her magical studies, fully determined to prove that shadowmancy isn't always evil and can bring much good to this world. She consults a lot with Morgana, even though she still considers Douxie her teacher.

Toby is still this timeline's Trollhunter but lately, he mostly deals with small errands from Bagdwella and other trolls. He doesn't mind as it feels a lot like vacation after everything the team has gone through.

Blinky succeeds Vendel as the leader of Trollmarket. He thinks about bringing some reform to the Tribunal and some obsolete traditions, thinking that trolls should start a new page in their history.

Aaarrrgghh always helps Blinky in his endeavors, but he protects peace in Arcadia. He's much like a local celebrity and kids love him.

Mary and Darci start a blog about various magical creatures, trying to show humans that the supernatural isn't that harmful. Mary also tries to date a troll at some point. It doesn't work, but only because of personality differences, not because their species are too different.

Barbara returns to drawing. Strickler uses some of his connections to promote her art a bit. Surprisingly, Barbara's art becomes really popular.

After some consideration, Strickler opens the school where different creatures, aliens, and humans can exchange their culture. He takes over as a principal and also teaches human history. Blinky comes over for troll history lessons, and when Claire is older she starts to teach Human World Literature there.

Eli is still the Earth ambassador at Akiridion-5, he's rather popular there. Eli is also the one who proposes the start of technological exchange with the Earth. Due to his efforts, Earth's technical progress is busted tremendously.

Steve the head of New Camelot Knights. However, eventually, once he is sure that everything is peaceful on Earth, he moves to Akiridion-5 to support Aja and help Eli. Even though Steve is officially married to Aja, he isn't that accepted at Akiridion-5 as it is technically breaking traditions. This time Aja informs him about all the nuances of akiridion reproduction. They still have kids, but only once both ready and consented to that.

Aja has a lot of stuff to solve, dealing with all the consequences of her parents' rule. She brings in lots of reforms and eventually limits her own authority, taking over the role of the main Akiridion-5 protector, while leaving everything else to those more fitting for it.

Krel moves to Earth, becoming Akiridion-5 ambassador and trying to popularize interstellar travels and exchange. He also has a side career as DJ Kleb.

Varvatos retires and starts living with Nana. Toby calls him granpa, which he doesn't like.

Douxie and Zoe go on the world tour with ADP once the world destruction is prevented. Claire, Mary, and Darci join them as Mama Skull.

Douxie opens his own cafe together with Jim. While they both are co-owners, Douxie enjoys taking over as a waiter occasionally, while Jim often cooks. It's the place where every creature is welcome, and well the Guardians often use it as their gathering spot.

Nomura becomes the leader of changelings who wish to return to troll society. Draal helps her a lot to fight for acceptance and against prejudices. They claim each other as mates, which causes an uproar in some circles. Even though both claim to be disastrous parents, they are great once they have their own kids.

Vendel retires, fully enjoying his rest. He comes to give blinky advice occasionally, but he's mostly a grumpy grandpa for everyone at the Trollmarket.

Dictatious takes over the troll library, adding some stuff he learns.

Angor goes on a travel (for an atonement, as he claims). He's seen all over the world, fighting against slavery and injustice at night. Soon enough he becomes a kind of city legend, and a lot of criminals are scared of him.

Bular goes to the Darklands, fully intending to reform the Gumm-Gumm tribe and get rid of the stigma they have.

Barbara and Strickler have their planned wedding and adopt some of the changelings' familiars, including Strickler's and Nomura.

Ironically, despite Jim and Claire being sure of each other feelings, Toby and Darci have their wedding first. It's the final push that makes Claire propose to Jim.

Enrique grows up to be a party monster, much because of NotEnrique's influence. They both tend to start parties which only Jim can stop.

Zelda (Nomura's familiar) is a huge fan of classical music, so they both can chat about it for hours. No one else is able to follow.

Wallie (Strickler's familiar), however, finds history boring. He's more of an IT and Math kid and is extremely talented. Strickler tells him the truth about their connection, and Wallie goes to live with Jim for some time to sort out his feelings. He forgives Strickler after some time though.

The world keeps changing as humans and supernatural beings learn to co-exist. Trolls take over dangerous mining, trading some difficult-to-get minerals. Humans also realize that trolls can eat some waste, which creates new ways to save nature. Nari feels that it's the world she, Bellroc, and Skrael wished to have before giving up and hopes that one day the rest of the Arcane Order will be unsealed and admit they were wrong.

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gigidragonbbxxx · 2 months

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Okay so I'll try to make it as simple and short as possible, for me the most logical way to manifest is REPETITION by repeating any affirmations over and over again it has no option but to manifest either a thought or a visual representation of your manifestation. So I've been repeating this one scenario in my head for around 2 years like the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep this specific scenario has been looping in my mind non stop even when I gave up on manifestation I quite all technique and everything I still used to loop this visuals (video) where I've everything I want like rn I'm thinking as if, I don't do this to get something I genuinely love doing this (acting as if/ visualizing) because obviously that gives me happiness my question here is why my subconscious is not reprogrammed yet when every second evey hour there is only scene in my head I don't get this and now finally I'm so hopeless and actually want a answer. Whether you believe it or not repetition is the key if you repeat something over and over and over and over and over again our brain creates new neural pathway and then it will show up in our reality. Then what the fuck is wrong with me

I REALLY WANT TO DIE NOWW

Everything will be okay. To whoever sent this, no you do not want to die. You want your new reality very badly and that's understandable.

So please bear with me and know I'm saying all of this with kindness:

from what I'm reading, you've been looping this scenario in your head for 2 years and are still looking for it. you already seemingly have read and taken the advice of repetition, acting as it, etc.

I'll be honest, I'm worried for you so I'm gonna go back to basics.

Are you viewing this reality as "It's mine now" or do you view it as something you're chasing?

Steps to Take:

take a break. seriously. take a break.

take stock of what has happened in your life within the 2 yrs you've been manifesting it - have there been small changes? have you been experiencing at the minimum, some of your desired reality?

take time to refocus on YOU. sit down, make a mind map of who YOU are and then make a separate one for your dream reality and see if they're truly different

treat yourself the same way the version of you in that reality would, just to jolt yourself in the feeling of living in the end and not just imagination, sometimes ppl need a lil 3D encouragement. for example, if the version of you always gets what they want, go into a store and buy your favorite snack just because. practice feeling good about your life.

even if you know what to do, going back and reading Neville Goddard or listening to edward art on youtube is helpful.

Final Piece of Advice

Suggested Affirmations

No matter what I feel, no matter how frustrated I am, nothing messes up the fact that my manifestations are coming in for me.

I know I am worthy of my dream reality.

I always do everything right.

I release any blockages or resistance that hinder me from experiencing my desired life

You know you deserve it. Treat yourself with love.

See you in your desired timeline, xx, gigi

#gigianswers #gigiwrites #law of assumption blog #affirm and persist #affirmations #law of assumption #loass #loassumption #neville goddard #manifestation #self concept #manifesting #loassblog #law of manifestation #edward art

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fandsart · 7 months

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I was going to just write this, but I don't have a lot thought up for how exactly it would go and I already have so many things on my To Be Written list, so I'm just going to make it a prompt and encourage anyone who'd like to to write it instead

So I'm sure most of us have probably seen the experiment Steve concept, Steve with powers escaped the lab or whatever. I've seen this go a few ways. Either Steve having escaped as a kid and been taken in by the Harringtons for one reason or another, this usually gives insight into his actions in season 2 and not wanting to interfere because he knows exactly what the government is capable of.

The other way I've seen it is Steve's parents having a deal with Brenner when he was a kid to give him abilities, but he failed to manifest them, or the abilities manifested in a way they didn't anticipate so they just missed it. He was young enough that he doesn't really remember it, so he gets to live a normal life and he eventually figures out he has powers on his own

So what about Steve as a failed experiment (and with this exact premise I do prefer actually failed, but it could also go in the direction of perceived failure as is in the second type I've described)

The reason we never see his parents is because they don't really technically exist. Everyone knows of them as this powerful family who are in and out of town and never seem to be seen. They're kind of an urban legend. People see their car in the driveway and someone clearly takes care of Steve, but no one really sees who it is. And he makes reference to them all the time, and they clearly make a real impact. Steve telling Nancy not to tell the cops about the beers because his dad would get mad, or him later getting cut off

Steve's "parents" being Brenner and his (non-canon) wife. I mean, Brenner probably does just live in Hawkins right? There are two ways this can go, Steve knowing he's a failure and growing up being shamed about it, or him actually thinking Brenner is his dad, and I mean come on Brenner seems very business oriented. He wouldn't be around that much. Even if he doesn't shame Steve about his failure because he knows he doesn't remember, it's still very clear to Steve how ashamed he is of him

It becomes both easier and harder to maintain after people think his Brenner persona is dead, because he doesn't have to maintain them separately, but he still needs to be away often enough that Hopper doesn't spot him and realize what exactly has been going on. It's been hard enough to stay out of sight and still known in such a small and talkative place as Hawkins

And then just eventually, during everything, Steve sees a of Brenner, or sees Brenner himself. This is why I didn't write the story out myself, because I don't have the details or timeline down, but everything coming into light and the party finding out that Steve was raised by the same abusive and manipulative man who raised El and everything that means. Steve and El becoming closer

#stranger things #steve harrington #experiment!steve #experiment steve harrington #steve harrington has bad parents #steve has bad parents #stranger things au #eleven hopper #el hopper #jane hopper #jane ives #011 stranger things #011 #fandsart

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do-you-have-a-flag · 8 months

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the one post I saw about burning man on here has missinfo (breaking event so understandable) and a pretty unsympathetic tone (I get it fyre fest or whatever but it is a former arts event that has been around since the 80s a lot of people did not have reason to expect stranded by the weather like this)

there is so much funny and interesting about this event even beyond the rich people stuck in the mud element

if you get a chance to skim the "Event timeline" portion of the Wikipedia article its a mix of creative themes and facts about mishaps

but to summarize the general history and give you a sense of how chaotic this event has been for the last almost 40 years

this event which started as an art collective and encouraged leave no trace trash policies as well as decomodification, a gifting/barter economy, and "radical inclusion and self expression" slowly changed into something critisised as less participatory and more influencer-baity which, when contrasted with the earlier emphasis on self reliance, is a recipe for trouble

By 1988, Larry Harvey formally named the summer solstice ritual "Burning Man" by titling flyers for the happening as such. This was apparently done to ward off references to "wicker man", the reputed Celtic pagan practice of burning live sacrifices in human-shaped wicker cages. Harvey has stated that he had not seen the 1973 cult film The Wicker Man until many years after and claims it did not inspire the action.

THE SOLSTICE BONFIRE OF A HUMAN EFFIGY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MOVIE ???

In 1990, a separate event was planned by Kevin Evans and John Law on the remote and largely unknown playa, known as the Black Rock Desert, about 110 miles (180 km) north of Reno, Nevada.[26] Evans conceived it as a dadaist temporary autonomous zone with sculptures to be burned and situationist performance art. He asked John Law, who also had experience on the dry lake and was a defining founder of the Cacophony Society, to take on central organizing functions of the events. In the Cacophony Society's newsletter, it was announced as Zone Trip No. 4, A Bad Day at Black Rock (inspired by the 1955 film of the same name).

there was a whole OTHER desert art party but this one openly inspired by a CRIME DRAMA?

so anyway several of these desert events of varying artistic and seasonal relevance got merged and grew through word of mouth, Wikipedia gives this insane sentence

1991 was also the year that art model and fire dancer (and later Burning Man's first art director) Crimson Rose attended the event.

this is very much something that started small

There were about 20 participants the first year, and approximately 100 in the second and third year. The annual, several weeks-long event, was held over summer Solstice at various fertile hot springs surrounding the desert. Participants built art and participated in self-directed performances.

and only became a public event in the mid 90s

Some key organizers of Burning Man were also part of Desert Siteworks [...] Hence, the two events saw much cross-pollination of ideas and participants.[...] 1996 was the first year a formal partnership was created to own the name "Burning Man" and was also the last year that the event was held in the middle of the Black Rock Desert with no fence around it.

the year it became a public event 2 deaths happened in the space between camp sites

Harvey insisted that the [crash] had not occurred at Burning Man, since the gates were not yet open. Another couple were run over in their tent by an art car driving to the "rave camp", which was at that time distant from the main camp. After the 1996 event, co-founder and partner John Law broke with Burning Man and publicly said the event should not continue.

so from the late 90s on there's a new location and much more regulations and formal ticket sales, shifting the tone firmly from loose artists commune/solstice bonfire into a more standard festival vibe with the aesthetic qualities of a Mad Max movie.

new rules include:

A grid street structure.

A speed limit of 5 mph (8 km/h)

A ban on driving, except for approved "mutant vehicles" and service vehicles.

Safety standards on mutant vehicles.

Burning of any art must be done on an approved burn platform.

A ban on fireworks.

A ban on animals.

in 2017 someone threw themselves into the flames

in April 2020 covid canceled the event, in September 1000 people tried to hold their own Burning man on a beach and San Francisco's mayor called them reckless and selfish. Similarly some people still showed up to the original location despite it's official cancelation.

in 2021 online events were planned

people showed up to the desert unofficially yet again, even more than in 2020

The Bureau of Land Management implemented restrictions including no structures other than shade structures and no fires other than campfires. There was a massive illuminated drone display outlining the Man instead of the burning of a Man effigy.

the event has had issues of trash, the flames releasing co2, gentrification by silicon Valley, diversity issues

so where we are at now is a lot of clueless and willfully ignorant people, mostly rich, several tech bros, going to an event that used to be an unregulated seasonal arts commune and is now an overpriced photo op with just as much drugs but way less active participation to the point of being like any standard music festival.

and it is in the desert.

and it has flooded for the first time in the event's history due to torrential rain. climate activists trying to block the only route to the event a few days ago make this especially symbolic as an example of dramatic weather conditions.

the mud is solidifying in heavy layers, people are stranded, there are no portable toilets working, they are on limited supplies, they are dressed for a party and celebrities are there and there is a real risk of trenchfoot but no ebola. someone died.

so yes hubris and schadenfreude at the rich people wading through muck during the escalating climate crisis. but also in addition to that a wild event with a wild history for which this is far from the first scandal. there's something to the counterculture and anarchic roots of the event, how they appropriated cultural practices, and how they were commodified in turn. how the pandemic interacted with the messaging of the event, how people with tech money and celebrities got involved, how the event is a particularly flashy and less sympathetic example of climate problems that have been hitting vulnerable communities for years now.

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blue-rose-soul · 2 months

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Love your au! You have so much interesting analysis and all your takes always feel really in character.

I was just curious, what would some of Lucifer’s bonding attempts look like? Would Nicaise—once she arrives— try to encourage Alastor to get to know Lucifer? Even if she doesn’t know the real relationship between herself and him?

Thank you so much! I'm glad you think so. I do try to keep true to the characters, but I worry I tend to be a little biased, so I appreciate you saying this.

(Forgive me, but I'm going to blabber a little bit before I properly answer your question.)

So, as I've been going along, I haven't really had a set timeline for the Devil's Bastard AU because I've mostly been thinking of scenarios and how things would go in response to the asks I've been receiving. As a result, the timeline for this AU has been kinda wibbly wobbly. At first, Alastor knew and he was keeping it a secret, then he didn't know but Lucifer figured it out. Then Nicaise became a real character in the AU and she got involved in events, and there was something about a dog...

As of now though, I'm getting a sense of how I'd actually like the timeline to go.

First being that nothing comes out until after the finale. Nicaise meeting Charlie in Heaven is sort of the catalyst for everything, but it's not until after she falls from Heaven that any secrets start coming out. Once it's known that Nicaise is Alastor's mother, and he makes the connection that Alastor was born later that same year, the gears in Lucifer's brain start turning and he starts wondering about the missing time from the night he and Nicaise met. That leads to him doing some digging on Nicaise's life, (my mental image is talking to someone he's on good terms with in Heaven who has access to records of mortals' lives on Earth), which in turn leads to him finding out that Alastor is in fact his kid.

I think once Lucifer finds out, there's no way for him to try bonding with Alastor without revealing that he's Alastor's dad, and once Nicaise learns that, it doesn't take her long to realize she's Alastor's mom. Even if Nicaise hadn't realized Alastor's on her son by her own at that point, she's able to piece together what happened based on what Lucifer's told her of their first meeting and Alastor's behavior towards her. So in any scenario where Nicaise sees Lucifer trying to connect with Alastor, she's already going to know the reason why.

(Okay, now to actually answer your question! Apologies for the word vomit.)

Lucifer definitely fumbles a lot when it comes to trying to form any kind of bond with Alastor. With Charlie, he seems to try to bond by showering her with gifts and offering to simply take care of her problems for her. It's a bit of a shallow foundation for a relationship, but Charlie at least seems to appreciate that he's trying, even if she's a bit uncomfortable with it and wants some actual support. But Alastor is proud, independent, and seems pretty uninterested in grandiose displays of wealth, preferring a more moderate lifestyle. If anything, Lucifer's attempts to bridge the gap by giving gifts would just be taken as him rubbing his power and wealth in Alastor's face. Alastor does compare Lucifer a lot to the man who kidnadopted him; a rich white man who had a fondness for champagne and caviar.

Nicaise's feelings on the matter are a bit complicated. As much as she likes Lucifer as a friend, she knows he's not really Alastor's parent at the end of the day. He didn't raise Alastor, didn't even know he had a second child until recently. She dresses both of them down when their behavior becomes unacceptable (insert a mental image of both of them on their knees with bowed heads while she's standing over them with her hands on her hips) but Nicaise isn't about to force her boy to see Lucifer as a father figure. Instead I see her telling them that as long as they're going to be under the same roof they're going to be civil whether they like it or not. (Cue Vaggie breathing a sigh of relief.)

Sadly, she doesn't really know Alastor either, not anymore. Not since Heaven took away her 'painful' memories. She knows she died when Alastor was still young so she encourages Lucifer to give Alastor space, "Let him come to you." It's a struggle for Lucifer because after his shutting himself off left his relationship with his wife and daughter so threadbare, it's hard not to feel like he's just giving up on his son. But over time they do reach a point where they can at least coexist in the same space. This is probably the real starting point for Lucifer and Alastor to form any kind of bond.

Of course, there's still the matter of whatever ulterior motives Alastor has for the hotel. The fact that his mother is now there... Is something he will have to figure out along the way.

#ask #anonymous #Hazbin Hotel #the Devil's Bastard AU #Alastor's mother #Nicaise (Hazbin Hotel OC)#Alastor #Lucifer Morningstar #I think once she knows the truth Nicaise will make Lucifer and Alastor sit with her on the couch and tell her stories about her life #Charlie gets involved because she loves sharing feelings and secrets and Nicaise likes her #Alastor realizes abruptly partway through that he's getting assimilated and starts looking for an exit route #also sorry for going on a tangent anon!

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sea-creature-things · 3 months

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Grimwalker things

Chapter 3: Eyes

This chapter deals with grimwalker's magenta-red eyes and it is angsty. Writing angst was very fun, I'm hoping it turned out well.

This one took a surprisingly long time to make... I struggled a little with letting everyone shine and not getting trapped in the Noceda-siblings-pitfall. This one also has a lot of flashbacks so i hope the timeline is still clear.

Next chapter will be wholesome again!

Read here below the cut or on AO3 with this link:

Gus was lying on his couch-bed in the basement, with Hunter next to him on his mattress. It was long past bedtime, but neither of them were even close to sleeping. For Hunter this was just another Tuesday, but Gus should’ve been off to dreamland by now.

He just had too many things floating around in his brain.

It had been a little over a month now. Gus thought they had acclimated quite well to the Human realm. He was proud of his new understanding and expertise.

Luz had taken them to so many exciting places! The movies, the supermarket, human picnics, an ice cream shop. That last one was a little weird for them. Ice was supposed to scream, but here it was just lying there.

Gus knew their food was different, he just never imagined how different. The flavours were so rich and there was a LOT of sugar. In everything actually, not just the ice cream. Even though the witches couldn’t digest certain things, Gus loved human food.

He especially fawned over the fastfood restaurants. It was absolute insanity to him. Restaurants in the Boiling Ilse were supposed to be fancy, they were an experience.

Gus and his dad would always go for special occasions. Those places attracted illusionists, who made the room just a little more special. Making glasses sparkle, making flowers float around or giving the room a golden glow.

He missed that so much, but he was sure they would do it again soon. They'd celebrate saving The Ilses by going to the fanciest restaurant they could find!

Not this otherworldly 'McDonald' thing. Although, he would love to show his dad some day. It was honestly amazing how the place handled food. And it was very fast indeed!

The group also returned to the mall a couple times. Gus had taken it upon himself to show his buddy around. Hunter had missed their first opportunity, and while Gus totally understood, he was still bummed.

So, he’d looked around with a guide-perspective in mind. After he got over his initial excitement of course. The mall was so unbelievable big, it felt like the shops were endless. It was a little overwhelming. The Demon realm markets had nothing on the mall. Luz was so amazing for doing all of that for him, for all of them.

Camila was just as adamant as her daughter about keeping them all happy. She took such good care of them.

Gus had never missed a mother in his life. It was always him and his dad against the world and he loved that. But Camila had become a second or third parent to all of them so quickly. It was… it was impressive honestly.

The more he missed his dad, the more he sought comfort by Camila. And she gave it to him so readily. She fed his love for human things, encouraged him about the portal and kept his hopes up.

She was a lot like Hunter in that way. They let him be scared and sad, before comforting him.

Just a few hours ago Camila offered to have a movie night! They had done that before and everyone was excited. This time though, she suggested they watch Jurassic Park, because Gus and Hunter had loved that fossil book so much.

The boys were absolutely enthralled. They loved the technology, the characters and of course all the dinosaurs. Amity and Willow didn’t care for it, but were amused all the same.

Vee proudly explained all the special effects, but still got a little quiet when the T-rex tried to break the car. Willow helped by bumping their shoulders and asking how she thought that part worked.

Gus loved hearing about the human’s version of illusion magic.

Luz had seen the movies many times before. She called it a classic, but kept interrupting with spoilers. It got to the point where Gus and Hunter would shush her whenever she opened her mouth.

When there was a tense scene with the kids and two velociraptors, Luz wanted to assure them the characters would be fine. She only got the first few syllables of her sentence out.

“Don’t worry-“

Hunter, who had been sitting next to the spoiler grinch the entire time, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and clasped his hand over her mouth. He pushed her against him to prevent her from escaping.

“Luz shut up!”

He had been too immersed in the movie to really think about his actions. If his mind wasn’t so full of dinos, he would’ve been worried about Camila sitting right there. Or Luz herself being uncomfortable. But he never had to worry either way.

Luz burst out in a muffled, uncontrollable laugh.

“I swear to Titan…” Hunter growled with as much amusement as actual annoyance. He shook her back and forth. She laughed even harder and slapped her knee.

Hunter finally let her go and she melted into the couch in a fit of giggles. Some poorly constructed sentence about their obsession with the movie somehow escaped her lips.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but everyone around him was cracking up too. Gus grabbed him from the couch so they wouldn’t miss the end of the chase scene.

Luz clearly wasn’t wrong. They had been fanboying through the entire movie and it didn’t stop after the credits rolled.

They’d kept their excitement up all the way through their bed-time routine. And had still not calmed down when they got downstairs. They recreated scenes from the movie with dramatic vigour, which wasn’t hard for an illusion witch.

Gus even made some really convincing velociraptors with his magic. Who chased the duo around while they pretended to be Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant.

They were making quite the ruckus and eventually got told off. Amity yelled from the top of the stairs to be quiet, causing Luz and Willow to shuffle her off to bed. And after laughing about that too, the boys finally settled down.

She was right of course. It was late and the girls were trying to sleep. Gus tried to do the same, not wanting to mess up his sleep schedule. But he ended up just lying there, thinking.

Hunter said it would be “one of those nights” and grabbed a book instead. Even with the fairy lights, the room was rather dark. Perfect for sleeping, just not for reading. Gus wasn’t going to question it though. That was a conversation for another day.

Or was now the perfect time?

It was late at night. They were cozy and warm. Hunter had finally gotten comfortable enough to relax with him. Gus had even seen him go to sleep earlier than him a couple times.

But not tonight. It was “one of those nights” after all. So yeah, it was a bad idea.

They had ‘deep talks’ before, but this was a difficult one to have, even on a good day. He wouldn’t want Hunter to lose his comfort, to disturb his brand new peace.

But he still couldn’t sleep! He had to talk about something.

“The human realm is pretty cool huh?”

“Absolutely.” Hunter smiled. He put the book aside to give his buddy his full undivided attention. Gus loved when he did that.

“I mean, that movie!” Gus magicked a T-rex with hearts and sparkles above his head. “So cool!”

“I know right!” Hunter was ready to go an another fanboy rant. “The part where the T-rex defeats a velociraptor?! and then the roar— and then the banner falls down!”

“Peak cinema!” Gus quoted Luz and they both laughed.

Their human friend hadn’t been talking about tonight’s movie. But she used the phrase a lot, so now Gus did as well.

"Yeah, I kinda like this place.” Hunter smiled down at his hands. But then seemed a little frazzled and quickly continued talking. “N-Not that I don’t like our own realm, or-"

"No I get it.” He interrupted him and Hunter relaxed again. Gus moved to lay on his side, looking down at his bro.

“I was worried that I wouldn't be able to enjoy the human world, with the way we got here,” Gus said. He couldn’t help the pain that seeped into his voice with that last part. Hunter’s expression softened even further, Gus didn’t think that was even possible. “but I have. I really, really have."

"Me too." Hunter bumped his fist into the witch’s shoulder, making him sway back and forth with a giggle. “And we’ll find a way back eventually.”

“Of course!” Gus wasn’t worried about that. Those feelings came and went like waves, but right now his hopes were high. “We’re gonna get that portal working.”

He felt their conversation coming to an end. He was definitely not done talking.

“You know what else is peak cinema?”

“What?”

“The actual cinema!” Gus bounced up, sitting on his knees and pumping his fists excitedly. “You remember when we went there? That movie was so funny! And that big box of popcorn was really delicious, you’re just hit with that smell when you walk in!”

“Shhhh,” his friend tried to calm him. “Amity might yell at you again.”

“She yelled at us, Hunter.” Gus made a pointed hand movement between the two of them. “She yelled at us.”

“Alright, alright.” Hunter snorted. “But you should still settle down.”

“Fffffine…” Gus laid back down on his side, hoping Hunter had not caught onto him yet. “Oh! Do you remember that picnic we had?”

“Um yes?” Hunter looked at him a little confused.

“We went to that field with the hill and we were able to use our magic because there weren’t any humans around.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Hunter deadpanned. “That was last week.”

“And then there’s the time we-“

“Gus.”

“The time we went rafting. And we-“

“Gus.”

“… Yeah?”

“Go to sleep!” Hunter snorted as he pushed his full palm into the witch’s face. Gus made an offended noise when he was pushed onto his back.

“You’re one to talk.” He crossed his arms with a huff.

“That’s…” Hunter pointed a finger in the air, but lost his gusto pretty fast. “That’s fair. How about we both try to sleep? See who gets there first.”

“You’re on!” Gus was determined to beat him. But fair was fair, he had to actually try to sleep.

Hunter couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his face. Did he really think he could win from an insomniac?

Well, he should at least try.

Soon enough, he was the one just lying there, thinking. He could hear steady breathing next to him. The younger boy had lost as predicted.

Gus had a point though, Luz had led them through all sorts of crazy activities. Hunter’s memories of the ‘rafting’ thing were both fond and extremely unpleasant.

He felt powerful while steering the boat. It was like steering an airship, one of the very few things he missed from home.

Gus, Amity and Vee were very frightened. It was stupid, but he liked being the protective one for once. He was usually the one that needed comforting, so it was a nice change of pace.

Willow was looking fierce as always, but Hunter could tell she was secretly afraid too. Or at the very least worried. Him and Luz were the only ones actually enjoying the River Rapids.

It helped that he knew it was safe. As rough as the river looked, the real speed wasn’t anything special. They had all experienced much worse back home. On top of that, Luz had assured them that Human water wasn’t boiling.

It was fully confirmed after Amity fell in the river…

They all freaked out, her girlfriend most of all. She almost dove in after her. Luckily, Amity knew how to swim. Hunter and Willow steered the boat towards a sand bar, so they could reunite with their fallen comrade.

“Omigosh Amity!” Luz ran towards her, hugging the drenched witch. “Are you okay?!”

“Yes, don’t worry Batata.” Amity smiled. “I’m fine! The water here is harmless right?”

“Yes of course!” Luz answered like it was the most obvious thing ever. She never learned what it took to make a lake or river back home safe to swim in. “I know my super awesome girlfriend is not going down by the likes of the River Rapids.”

The couple twirled each other around, laughing like the idiots-in-love that they were. Gus, Vee and Willow cooed at their overly-sweet display and voiced their own happiness over the fact that Amity was fine.

“The Blight survives another day.” Hunter congratulated her, after hoisting the boat out of the water enough for it to stay put.

“Ha-ha,” Amity punched him lightly in the stomach, “I can see you trying to come up with some dumb joke already.”

“I’m just saying…” Hunter smirked. “You can never call me a wet cat ever again!”

He gestured to her state of being. Not a single person could deny she looked like a soaking cat. If Ghost fell in the river instead, the differences would be impossible to find.

Judging by the snickers and giggles that erupted, he was right. Gus made a set of neon blue cat-ears appear on Amity’s head. Which made Willow and Vee burst out in a roaring cackle.

“Awwww~” Luz covered her mouth, trying to hide that her adoration was turning into a laugh.

Amity turned beet red. That face was a common occurrence, but it was still amazing. Ever. Single. Time. The abomination witch swatted the illusion away and turned to Hunter with a fury he hadn’t seen in a while.

She had chased him around with a purple ball of fire, while he ran with rowdy laughter.

Now that Hunter thought back, those memories were mostly fond. He felt so happy and free. He was surrounded by an incredible amount of warmth.

He almost felt like a normal kid.

But the feeling never lasted. Normal was just not in the cards for him. Everything reminded him of that.

The few books on Grimwalkers he was able to find were burned into his memory. The pages haunted him, but realisations of what they meant still snuck up. And when it inevitably did, anxiety and panic would seep into his skin.

It had been the usual reason for his insomnia the first few weeks in this house. Amongst other things. But he went from sleeping due to complete exhaustion, to sleeping because he wanted to. Well, sometimes.

Nowadays, it was mostly the nightmares that send him back into the hopeless feelings he’s grown so accustomed to.

It always started the same.

Golden masks on a dark forest floor, bleeding into the grass. Bones scattered everywhere. Fog blocking his view.

Then cracks would form, first in the masks, then in the ground itself. Hands would rise from them, decaying hands, clawing at his feet, gripping his legs.

Then he fell.

A large fissure widened right underneath him. The hands dragged him further down. Dirt and blood spilled into his mouth, filled his eyes, clogged his ears. The earth gave way and he fell. He fell right back into his hands.

Hunter woke up in a cold sweat.

He shot upright, his eyes wouldn’t open, his mouth felt dry from the mud, he still couldn’t hear anything! He desperately clawed around him, trying to find an escape. His breathing hitched, was there still earth in his throat?

He tried to cough it out, but there was no resistance. His lungs heaved and his head spun. He kept grabbing and scratching and clawing. But all he felt were soft blankets and a cold wooden floor.

His right hand slammed against something hard. His wrist send a shot of pain through his arm.

Wait.

His eyes were open. He could see fairy lights and a couch. Soft blankets and a wooden floor…

Right.

He was in the basement. No forest, no masks, no blood. No Belos. There was nothing in his throat, or his eyes, or his ears.

He was safe.

That was the couch he just hit. His head spun quickly to the witch sleeping on it. Gus was facing him. He had his duvet all the way past his head, only his face was peaking out. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and steady.

He was still sleeping.

Hunter thanked the Titan. Disturbing Gus right now would absolutely break him. His own breath finally found some regularity. He tried his best to focus on the four fingers technique.

With every breath, Hunter felt his stress ebb away. His head still hurt though. He decided splashing some water on his face might help.

He soundlessly ascended the stairs, he was an expert at that by now.

He wondered what time it was as he walked to the bathroom, avoiding all the creaky floorboards. He went straight for the sink and didn’t bother to turn on the light.

The cold water felt like nirvana on his skin. It slowly cooled down his skin and his headache faded away. He washed his face and hands, and his neck for good measure. He breathed steadily between every splash of icy heaven.

Eventually he felt grounded again and took his towel from the rack. They had to extend the rack to hold six towels instead of two. Hunter often felt bad that Camila had to buy so much extra inventory.

Nevertheless, he was very happy with the soft fabrics on his face. He would be forever grateful for Camila Noceda. She was so compassionate.

He dried his face and hung it back on the rack. As he moved back towards the sink, his gaze caught on his own reflection in the mirror.

His magenta eyes stared back at him.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The blend of magenta and red was glinting in the mirror. Even in the dark the colours were clear to see.

Red eyes.

It was the very mark of a Grimwalker. Their most recognisable part. He was once again reminded what exactly he was.

It had only recently turned into such an issue for him. Magenta irises just weren’t weird in the demon realm.

Sure, the masked helped, but most people didn’t know anything about Grimwalkers. Besides, other people had weird colours too. Like very bright green or yellow.

Here in the Human realm though, it was the strangest thing.

Hunter got asked ‘how he had red eyes’ by humans on the street quite often. Just earlier today he had one of those encounters.

———

The Hexsquad, as they liked to call themselves, was hard at work in their clubhouse. The bright summer sun was shining through the windows of their newly renovated place.

They had fixed the giant holes in the walls and the floor, they had hung colourful wallpaper, Camila had given them an extra rug and Luz had found an old bean bag in the attic. They had even found a tiny ‘cooler’ at a yard sale.

They tried to decorate the place as much as possible with plants and string lights. The witches had made drawings of their families and Luz had put up a poster of the portal door, as much as she remembered.

Hunter was still fixing the old chair that had been there forever. He was almost done with the stitching, but that would have to wait a little longer.

They were trying to build a portal and it was proving very difficult.

They were scattered on the floor with notepads and books. Vee had tried to organise the pens, erasers and pencils in the middle. Put the pile dispersed every few minutes.

They were all trying to brainstorm human-versions of the ingredients they needed, yelling suggestions across the room every now and then.

Hunter was also trying to remember the portal he had seen in the castle. It was different from the one Luz had made, bringing them straight to the Human realm instead of the in-between she had described.

He was sporting a similar look to Gus and Amity. Hands in hair, staring at the pages. Hunter sighed frustrated, his own pages were still so empty.

That’s of no use to her.

Willow let out a despairing groan and snapped her notebook closed. She sat up straight to stretch.

“Let’s take a break.” She said, more like a demand than a offer.

“Yes please…” Gus flopped on his stomach with similar noises of pain.

Amity and Vee joined in with their own agreement. Hunter tried to ignore them and focus on his 1/4-filled page. From the absence of a certain human’s voice, he guessed Luz was doing the same.

But you can’t just ignore a conversation that’s happening right next to you. Amity suggested to go into town and Vee seemed excited about a particular place.

So, to the objection of Luz and Hunter, the witches and demon stood up and evacuated.

“Wait guys, I have to-“ Luz tried, but her girlfriend interrupted.

“Nope.” Amity said sternly. She grabbed her arm and tugged until she stood up.“You have to take a break.”

Gus was already out the door.

“But if we just-“ Hunter started.

“No.” Willow took the notebook he was scribbling in away.

“Leaving now would only-“

“No.” Vee came to join the plant witch for a duo to behold. Hunter looked up at the girls with slight fear, hidden by stubbornness.

“But-“

“NO!” Both of them yelled and Flapjack chirped incessantly. Alright, the message was clear.

“Sorry guys, but you’ll have to sit this one out.” Amity said to the palismen.

They were cuddled up in a dog bed that Camila had given them. The magical creatures all said things along the lines of ‘fine by me’ or ‘have fun’. It was safe to say they weren’t heartbroken about being left alone.

Hunter stood up under the pointed gaze of the girls. But he made no motions towards the door, looking at his pen apprehensively.

Vee grabbed the back of his shirt and basically dragged him out of the door. Hunter let out a yelp while stumbling backwards, looking at Willow who just followed with a smirk on her face.

“Okay Vee, where did you wanna go?” Luz asked after stretching in the sun. Seemed like Amity already convinced her.

“There’s this boba place that I’ve really wanted to try.” Vee shifted to her human disguise. “I don’t know where it is exactly, but I know what it’s called.”

Apparently that was good enough for Luz’s phone, because shortly after pressing a few buttons she was leading them through town. Vee and Amity on either side of her.

Even though they no longer looked like twins, the basilisk and the human still resembled sisters. Acted like it too.

The boba shop was small, but it had a few tables and sofas. The place was decorated with a pastel colour pallete, the counter had photo’s of their products on display and the wall behind it had their menu on chalkboards.

They found a table in the corner with 6 seats and started deciding on their order. Luz and Hunter were tasked with memorising everything.

“Oh no…” Luz gasped after patting every pocket that her pants had. “I forgot my wallet!”

The table was filled with a moment of shock. Before they could despair over walking all that way for nothing, Vee fished a couple of banknotes from her pocket.

Luz’s sigh of relief as her sibling deposited two 20-dollar bills in her hands, was quickly replaced by confusion.

“Wait. How?”

“Camila gave it to me for this exact situation.” She said with a cat-like grin. Luz pouted at her.

Vee playfully hit the back of her head, messing up her hair. Luz retaliated by ruffling hers. Before they could turn it into a fight, Gus told her to order already.

“Right, we’ll be back in a minute.” Luz chirped and tugged Hunter along.

The cashier who greeted them looked to be around their age. He had a mint green apron on over a white T-shirt. Blue hair peaked out of a hat with he shop’s logo on it.

“Welcome to Boba Pop, may I take your order?” The guy practically did a double take to look at Hunter. “Wow, dude. I love your contacts! Where did you get ‘em?”

“My what?” He asked confused. He was not prepared for this question, he didn’t even know what it meant.

“Your eyes,” The cashier pointed at his face. “That red colour is awesome.”

Hunter was a little overwhelmed. This guy had never experienced social anxiety and it showed. At least now he knew what they were talking about.

“Oh this is my-“

“Favourite colour!” Luz jumped in. “It’s his favourite colour.”

She smiled weirdly at the guy and Hunter looked at her confused too. Then the realisation that he couldn’t say ’natural colour’ to a human hit him like a lightning spell.

“Oh! Yeah, I really like… con-tats.” He laughed awkwardly. The energetic cashier seemed oblivious to their weird behaviour.

“Cool! Where did you get them?”

The duo looked at each other with the same stumped expression.

“They were a gift!” Luz managed to improvise. She looked smug at her own answer. “For his birthday.”

Hunter looked away with a wobbly smile when he thought ‘yeah my very first birthday’. He quickly repressed it.

“Um yes,” He said, “and we don’t know where they got them. The friend I mean, who got them for my birthday.”

Hunter trailed off and looked to Luz for guidance. She was just smiling at the employee so he did the same.

“Aww, thats too bad.” The blue-haired boy looked genuinely dejected. Then he straightened his back and looked at them a little shocked. “Oh! I’m so sorry. May I take your order?”

“Oh no, don’t worry.” Hunter tried to assure him, waving his hands frantically. Luz offered both guys some mercy by starting with her own order.

Luz tried her best to ordered everything, but couldn’t remember some of the details. She blanked completely on Willow’s order and looked at the grimwalker next to her for help.

“Jasmine green milk tea with half ice.” Hunter said with absolute certainty. Luz smirked at him. “What?”

“Nothing~”

“Is that all?” The cashier asked, putting it into the machine. Hunter still wondered how those things worked exactly.

Luz confirmed and payed for their order. They only had to wait a little bit for the employees to make everything. When it was done, they said goodbye to the blue-haired guy and walked back to the others.

Vee was probably the happiest to get her drink, but the others were excited too. They opted to take the drinks to go instead of sitting at the table. It seemed like a waste of a six-person table to Hunter, but the rest wanted to walk around in the sun.

And so they walked around town with their cold drinks, enjoying the nice summer weather.

They walked past clothing shops, cafes, restaurants. Making plans to remember certain places for future visits. Eventually their drinks ran out and they crossed the road for a trashcan.

From there they saw a ‘cute little park’ as Amity called it, obviously they had to go there.

They walked towards the charming elm trees, but when they rounded the corner of the fence they stopped dead in their tracks.

There, on a pedestal stood two large stone statues, wearing clothes straight out of a history page.

Witch-hunter history.

Luz stopped so abruptly that Gus bumped into her. Amity was holding her hand and felt a tug when her girlfriend halted. Willow, who had been walking next to Gus, recoiled from their crash.

The three witches immediately voiced their curiosity and concern.

Hunter recognised him too. Vee only noticed because he fell silent. Just a second ago they were talking about tea, now he stared up at this thing with an unreadable expression.

She followed his gaze. The bone-chilling realisation almost made her shapeshifting unstable.

“That’s… Belos.” Luz managed to get out after her friend’s concerned murmurs.

The witches surrounding her all looked at her bewildered, then snapped their attention to the statue.

The pedestal read: Gravesfield folklore, The brothers Wittebane.

Hunter felt like his body was about to crumble. That was indisputably the face of the man he had called uncle his entire life. And that was his brother. That was Caleb.

That was his blueprint.

A disgusting feeling rose in his throat. He felt like the world was spinning around him. Light-headed and reeling, his mind was blaring alarm bells. He couldn’t hear what Luz was saying to their friends, the sounds around him were distant and distorted.

He couldn’t stop looking at him.

His lungs were threatening to give out. Irregular short breaths entered his body, while breathing out felt impossible. He was in the verge of hyperventilating.

Vee felt a little woozy and off-balance. The hold on her shapeshifting was weakening. She felt her hands turn back into claws and saw some green spots forming on her arms. A nauseating feeling tumbled in her stomach.

They had statues. Belos and his brother had statues here. Two witch-hunters had statues here.

A sharp sound to her left broke her out of her daze. Hunter was looking even more wobbly than she felt. She could see the panic in his eyes. She tracked his gaze once more and it finally clicked.

On instinct she grabbed his hand, her claws dug into his skin. He barely felt it. Hunter slowly turned to her, still feeling spaced out. Vee gently tugged on his arm and walked backwards.

He let her lead him over grass, feeling too overwhelmed and scared to pretend he was okay. She tugged her brother along, until they were out of earshot, making sure he was with his back towards the statue.

She took his other hand and squeezed them both, this time being mindful of her sharp claws. The pressure helped him focus a little, but breathing was only getting more difficult.

“Breathe Hunter.” Vee spoke clearly. He squeezed her hands back, desperately trying to ground himself.

And like a broken spell or an unlocked chain, his lungs finally worked again. His irregular gasping for air turned into irregular deep breaths.

“Just breathe.”

The basilisk carefully looked back at the group. The other witches were still inspecting the sculpture and listening to Luz talk about Philip.

It looked like they had successfully slipped away.

“Just breathe.” She said again, calm and pointed.

She coached him through his rising stress, and slowly his hyperventilating stopped. He followed her calming breaths, eventually he moved onto his familiar four-fingers technique.

Vee’s hand now floating in the air in case he needed it. In time, Hunter calmed down. He looked at her with nothing but gratitude. She had helped to prevent a full-on panic attack.

“You okay?” She asked attentively.

“Yes.” Hunter blew out a hefty breath one more time. “Thank you.”

“We’ve gotten pretty good at this, huh?” Vee let out a loaded sigh and a shaky chuckle. Hunter nodded with a tired smile. She swung the hand that still held onto his back and forth.

“And to think I wanted to murder you just a month ago!" She laughed a little odd but with obvious relief. Hunter couldn’t help the elated laugh that escaped out his mouth.

The strange feeling of humour after an almost-mental breakdown, made his sound a little weird too. She was right, their relationship was insane. The basilisk that was scared out of her mind when they first met, had called him ‘brother’ only a few days ago.

He was aware that they had a unique kind of bond with their shared experiences in the castle. But he’d never expect to be regarded as family. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it, but it made him feel so happy.

And treating Vee like a little sister made her really happy, even though he couldn’t yet get himself to call her that. She said she enjoyed hugs and hair-ruffles. Apparently teasing, bickering and joking around was also part of it.

He was still new to it all, but it just felt so right.

Luz had been calling him ‘bro’ and ‘hermano’ for a while now. Maybe he was more used to it than he-

“Whatcha doing over here?” Willow suddenly appeared to the right one him.

Saying it startled him was an understatement. Hunter yelped a loud “WAAA-“ before he doubled over and went back to his calming breaths.

Willow, having missed his panic, was looking jolly and unbothered. She cocked an eyebrow at him with an amused smile. But when she saw that Vee didn’t share her sentiment, she got worried.

“Sweet mother of Titan.” The blonde boy heaved out.

“Are you okay?” Willow asked. Looking from Hunter to Vee and back.

“We’re fine.” Vee assures her. Being infinitely more skilled in lying, she quickly fabricated a half-truth. She glared at the statue. "That... thing just makes me really uncomfortable."

“Mmmh, I get it.” Willow nodded with a soft look. Thinking about their past always made her angry. She looked back with a scowl. “I just wanna spray paint all over it.”

"That sounds like a wonderful idea!" Vee smiled creepily. Focusing on Hunter’s feelings had helped her to calm down as well, but now her mood was really improving.

“Guys,” Hunter piped up when he felt grounded once more. “Vandalism is wrong.”

He was met with two deadpan faces. The tips of his ears tinted pink when he looked at Willow. He quickly turned his eyes away.

“But I wouldn’t stop you.” He mumbled.

“Alright!” Vee jumped away, ready to throw rocks at Belos’s image. This was going to be very therapeutic for her.

Willow and Hunter watched her leave. The green-haired girl met up with Luz, said something and started doing exactly as she set out to do. Gus and Amity didn’t take long to join in.

The duo standing in the distance looked at each other, and started giggling.

“Do you wanna join them?” The plant witch asked, really wanting to do so herself.

“Maybe another time…” Hunter looked away. He felt like his legs would refuse to walk back to that thing.

Willow understood, and as much as she felt the vandalism-urge burning in her soul, she wouldn’t leave Hunter behind. She couldn’t even imagine how devastating it must have been to find a statue dedicated to you abuser. Her heart bled for him.

The blonde witch would always be ready to distract her when she needed it. She had no trouble returning the favour.

“Hey, look at this.” She crouched down next to a flower bed on the edge of the park, gently bending a purplish-blue flower towards him. “This is called the balloon flower.”

Hunter was immediately intrigued. He crouched down next to her and inspected the plant. It was a cluster of flowers on one stem, they were star-shaped and had a peculiar looking pistil.

“See how the petals are fused?” Willow ever so carefully glided her thumb over the blue petals, they were indeed stuck to each other. “We don’t have any flowers like this in the Boiling Ilse.”

“Why not?” Hunter was fully captivated.

“I dunno.” Willow shrugged. “Different evolution I guess.”

“Oh.” Hunter laughed. He had expected some profound answer, but that made sense. He touched one of the other flowers to feel the strange petals for himself. “Did you learn about these in that book?”

“Yes! The one from the library.” She was delighted that he remembered she loved that book so much. “Balloon flowers are actually very popular.”

She was also glad he accepted her attempt at distracting him with plant facts. So Willow happily listed all the different names for the different shades of blue present in this species.

They talked about the book for a bit. He was excited to learn that the human realm had flesh-eating plants too. But then Willow had to break the news to him that they were really tiny. After that, the group called them to leave. Their vandalism-therapy was done.

Hunter found himself walking at the back of the group again, this time with Gus. They had to pass that damned statue again to go home. His effort to resist wasn’t strong enough, he looked up at Caleb’s face one last time.

He felt like a freshly scabbed-over wound was splitting back open. He wouldn’t go into a panic again, but he felt sick to the stomach. And maybe a little dizzy too.

“Hey,” Gus looked at him curiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” He lied.

“Did the statue make you uncomfortable too?”

“Yeah…”

Hunter knew this was bound to happen. Gus was incredibly observant and smart. More so than anyone, he was the real mom of the group. He cared so much and they had build an amazing friendship, which was exactly why this was so uncomfortable.

Gus, on the other hand, didn’t feel very smart right now. What kind of question was that? Of course he was uncomfortable!

He just wanted to talk about it.

But Hunter clearly didn’t, so he wouldn’t press the issue. He could take a wild guess either way. He knew that Hunter wasn't even looking at Belos's statue. He was looking at his brother.

Caleb Wittebane.

———

Hunter had been staring at his reflection for what felt like an eternity. A wounded sigh eventually escaped his mouth. His shoulders slumped, breaking him out of his frozen state.

His hands moved involuntarily to his face. He rubbed the inside of his eyes. Then he squeezed them shut and opened them wide. He intently studied the colours and the fibres.

He always thought that the way the fibres of an iris weaved was so pretty. Not when he looked at his own, but someone else’s, like Willow. Like an intricate web of beautiful pigment.

He didn’t hate the colour of his eyes, he hated what it represented.

He dragged his hands down to his mouth. His chapped lips had always been a constant and Amity had desperately tried to get him to use lip balm. She was right, she was always right, that’s why she was so annoying. He just forgot.

With one finger he lifted the side of his upper lip, uncovering his fangs. He was still more inclined to call them sharp teeth. That’s what they were after all.

He used to hate those, but his friends all loved them so much. Now he wasn’t sure how to feel. Just neutral maybe?

He then moved his hands up into his hair and hung them on his neck. His hair had grown, falling just past his ears. It looked different, but he could still style it the same way.

It didn’t have to stand out, right? Nobody noticed? He couldn’t bring himself to cut it here.

He had to cut his hair religiously back in the coven. It always had to look perfect. Everything always had to be perfect. The human realm was supposed to be his peaceful escape.

No.

No, stop.

What was he even thinking? They had crashed into this realm in an apocalypse. The end of the world! This was refuge, not an escape. He had to remember the difference.

That still didn’t mean he had to cut his hair.

He moved one hand to his scar, softly pulling the skin up and down. Tracking the edge, like he’d done a million times. It was the only thing entirely his own.

His eyes, his teeth, the rapid growth of his hair. That was all Grimwalker. The colour of that hair, his bone structure, his nose, his eyebrows. That was all Caleb.

“What a shame. Out of all the Grimwalkers, you looked the most like him."

Why couldn't he reject that sentence? Even just as a bold-faced lie. He wanted to utterly deny that is was true, but when he looked at that statue...

It looked so painfully similar.

His scar was the only thing that didn’t belong to either of them. But even that little beacon of uniquely him, didn’t bring any comfort. How could it? It was a deep pink slash across his cheek. His very first scar.

He barely remembered how he got it. Well, it was Belos of course. He just didn’t recall any of the details.

It was the first of many. Every single one of them seemed so clearly malicious in retrospect. How had he ever been so naive?

It is the curse! He didn’t mean to! As if that monster could ever really love him. A lie, that’s all it was.

His arms dropped to his sides. The hundredth sigh of the night escaped his lips. He hated this so much. But he couldn’t move away from that damned mirror. Like plant magic was rooting him to this one spot in the bathroom.

When he looked in that mirror, he didn’t see anything he liked. He didn’t see himself.

He wanted to punch that mirror and-

The sounds of very familiar slithering passed in the hallway, violently ripping his attention away from the mirror. He heard the slithering in the kitchen and then a crunching noise.

Vee.

More like his guardian angel. The kitchen was very appealing, stronger even than the mirror’s pull.

That was good right? He had to escape this depressing pit he created. Joining Vee would do definitely force him away from his own mind. Or maybe misery just loved company.

He deliberately kept his head down, looking at the mirror would root him back in place. He hoped he left the sink neat enough.

Hunter entered the kitchen and saw his basilisk sister elbow-deep into a cereal box. She was looking off in the distance while munching, until she noticed him. She froze and they looked at each other for a solid 10 seconds.

“Hey.” Vee said blankly, breaking the awkward silence.

“Hey.” He returned in the same passive way.

She continued to crunch on her midnight snack and tilted the box towards him. He shuffled over and leaned on the counter, grabbing a fistful of the cereal.

Usually he’d be a bit upset about eating from the box, but he was just so tired that he didn’t care anymore. He felt a little empty right now.

“Insomnia?” Vee asked, blinking slowly and sideways.

“Nightmare.” Hunter answered between crunching. “You?”

“The other one.”

“That sucks.”

“Sure does,” She snickered. “Nightmares aren’t much better. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” Now that he actually had company for his misery, he didn’t want to get into it.

Vee knew he was lying, naturally, but she was leaving it be. She didn’t really have the energy for a heart-to-heart right now either. They just kept eating their cereal in comfortable silence.

Then Luz walked in.

Both basilisk and grimwalker froze again in the middle of their munching. Their human sibling stood just past the doorway and looked at them surprised.

“Hey.” They said at the same time, in the exact same way as before.

“Hey,” Luz laughed and bounced over to grab her own helping of cereal. She hopped onto the counter and ruffled both of their hair. Calling them both ‘hermanitos’.

Vee glowed at the nickname, and Hunter smiled. A small, growing feeling of light was forming somewhere, almost within reach.

“Di’ya have a nightma’?” Vee asked through a mouth full. Hunter didn’t even have enough energy to lecture her about proper eating etiquette. Eating from a box kind of defeats the purpose anyways.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.” The human answered. “I feel like I went in and out of sleep at least 6 times already.”

“Insomnia.” Hunter hummed knowingly.

“Yeah…” Luz sighed. She was well aware of her insomnia-household. This wasn’t the first time that the three of them had gathered in the kitchen, at the most ungodly hours of the night. “So I came down here for some water, but this is way better.”

She threw a piece of cereal in the air and caught it with her mouth. Hunter moved wordlessly to the cupboard and filled three glasses with water. The girls both looked at him with shit-eating grins. Hunter rolled his eyes, he could never just do something nice without them turning it into a big deal.

“Awww you big softy.” They cooed. Hunter looked at them annoyed, then snatched the cereal box from Vee’s hands.

“Just for that, I’m eating the last of this.”

“NO!” The sisters gasped and leapt to save their snack, but he was too fast and too tall.

Hunter tipped the thing over and the last of the cereal, which was only 5 pieces at most, was gone.

“How could you!” Luz called out with a dramatic look of betrayal. Hunter and Vee both shushed her, trying to hold in their laughter.

“How could you?” Luz whispered this time, giggling along with them.

“Ya know… we have another box.” The sly basilisk suggested, showing off the inside of the pantry.

“Vee, we can’t eat two boxes of cereal in the middle of the night!” Hunter whisper-yelled, slapping their greedy hands away and closing the cabinet door. “What about the others? What about breakfast?”

“Yeah Vee, think about breakfast!” Luz teased like she hadn’t just been reaching for that box as well. Vee stuck her tongue out.

“What time is it anyway?” She asked and Luz pulled her phone from her back pocket.

The blue screen lit up the room, but she completely forgot to check the time when she noticed a sudden shine.

“Wow….” Luz marvelled at the teens standing in front of her. “Cat eyes.”

The teens in question, being completely lost, looked at her confused.

“I didn’t know you guys have that!” She was awestruck.

“Have what?” Vee felt stumped and wanted an explanation quickly.

“You know when cats are at a certain angle to a light and their eyes glow?” Luz was met with a couple of dumbfounded faces. “Because of their night vision? You guys have reflective eyes… like cats?”

“Reflective eyes?!” Hunter reacted suddenly. The realisation had snuck up on him, as if thinking about it earlier had doomed it to come true again.

“What? Nooooo hahahahaha-“ He laughed nervously, backing up until the edge of the kitchen island dug into his back. His voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. “No.”

“Hunter?” Luz’s voice was uneasy and she reached out a hand to him, but it faltered. Vee looked wary and uncertain.

His heart sank. It had barely gotten the chance to climb out and it sank all the way back down.

“No…” His voice broke.

He hugged himself tight. His arms were tired, his legs were tired, his everything was tired. He slid down against the island.

“Hunter?” Vee asked with the tinniest voice. She eyed Luz and they shared a look of extreme worry.

“Noooooo…” Hunter buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Whyyyyy?!”

Did the Titan hate him? Was he cursed? This night just kept getting worse! And just when he thought he escaped those feelings, those thoughts. Leave them in the dark bathroom and never look back. He really was naive.

Luz and Vee shared a final look and joined him on the floor. They sat down on either side of him, leaning against him as a silent show of comfort.

Hunter felt tears stream over his face and by the way his shoulders shook, his sisters could tell. Luz put a hand on his back and the older boy let out a shaky breath. He let go of his legs and slowly sat back up, dropping his arms on the ground.

Nobody said anything.

Vee wrapped her tail around his ankles and let head head fall on his shoulder. Her cheek smushed and her fuzzy hair tickled his neck. Luz hugged him tight, resting her head against his arm.

Hunter just let the tears fall.

He felt a confusing mix of distress, comfort, exhaustion, gratitude, fear and love. He really hated today, it was such a long, draining day.

But he felt so happy to have these two consider him family. They let him bawl his eyes out without question, sharing this moment of pain just to make it easier for him.

Eventually they would let each other go. Vee would spend the night watching YouTube videos. Luz would read Azura books until sunrise. And Hunter would rest his tired eyes, for once sleeping dreamless and peaceful.

But for now, they would stay like this. Together.

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