#and thus the scars are there until he truly defeat it

[cartooniack1994]

I’m a Kataang shipper.

In the past, I used to tolerate Z*tara shippers when I first got into Avatar: the Last Airbender back in 2015, and I try my best to not get into any ship discourse in any fandom (because I got kicked out of three fandoms over it). I have the following policy: if they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them, and vice versa, if I don’t bother them, they won’t bother me.

Recently, however, it’s gotten to the point where I put Z*tara on my blacklist on Tumblr Savior, because the whole “Kataang-Z*tara War” has been going on for fourteen years, and I’m getting tired of it. What’s worse, many of those that ship Z*tara still refuse to accept Kataang as endgame, especially since Aang and Katara had kids (and grandkids) in the sequel series, The Legend of Korra. What was the Z*tara shippers’ intent? Trying to get Bryke to change their decision on the endgame pairing for Avatar: the Last Airbender? If that was the case, then it’s far too late.

I hope I don’t get kicked out of the fandom for saying this, but since it’s been bothering me for a long time, I’m here to prove why not only Z*tara is a bad pairing, but also why it wouldn’t work out in the long run.

As you very well know, in the first two season of the show, Zuko and Katara did nothing but fight, and they didn’t become friends until close to the end of the show. Personally, I can hardly consider any of their interactions as “ship fuel,” and yet, somehow, it became a more popular pairing than the canon Kataang pairing.

Zuko was an antagonist in Book One, as he was tracking down the Avatar in order to restore his honor and gain his father’s respect. In “The Waterbending Scroll” (Book 1, Chapter 9), Zuko used Katara’s necklace as was to bribe her in order to get her to betray Aang’s whereabouts, but she refused. He then employed a bounty hunter named June and her shirshu, a beast that can track a person by scent, and used said necklace to track, thus tracking Ang by proxy. Once Zuko found Aang, however, the necklace was reclaimed by Aang and returned to Katara.

In “The Crossroads of Destiny” (Book 2, Chapter 20), Zuko had his first chance of redemption when he was imprisoned in a crystal cave with Katara, who was angry at him, for she blamed him for starting the war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the Four Nations. After Zuko was sympathetic to Katara after hearing that the War took away her mother, Katara offered to use the spirit water to heal his scar, but then Aang and Iroh broke them out of the prison before any action could be taken. Zuko decided to side with his sister, much to Iroh’s and Katara’s disappointment, thus blowing his first chance at redemption. In the end, Katara used the spirit water that was given to her by Master Pakku to revive Aang, because he’s the Avatar (duh!), so he needed it the most. Zuko didn’t truly get redeemed until “The Day of Black Sun” (Book 3, Chapters 10 & 11) when he called out his father and told him that he was going to help the Avatar.

In “The Western Air Temple” (Book 3, Chapter 12), Aang, Sokka, Toph and especially Katara initially didn’t trust him when he wanted to join Team Avatar, as he let slip the fact he hired Combustion Man. At the end of the episode, after the others welcomed him on board after he helped defeat Combustion Man, Katara said the following, word for word, to Zuko after he joined Team Avatar:

“You might have everyone else here buying your...transformation, but you and I both know you’ve struggled with doing the right thing in the past. So let me tell you something, right now. You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won’t have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I’ll make sure your destiny ends...right then and there. Permanently.”

This scene in and of itself shows that Katara is not messing around, since she felt bitter towards him after his betrayal in “The Crossroads of Destiny.” Zuko and Katara didn’t truly become friends until the end of "The Southern Raiders” (Book 3, Chapter 16). In the episode, Zuko was wondering why she was bitter towards him after the other members of Team Avatar started to trust him. Katara was still bitter at him, because she was the first person to trust him at Ba Sing Se, and Zuko betrayed her trust by siding with Azula, and she was angry towards the Fire Nation in general, because a member of the Southern Raiders killed her and Sokka’s mother. At the end of that episode, Katara had finally forgiven him, thus making her his friend. One thing that gets me about those who ship them is that they see this gesture of friendship as “ship fuel,” especially since at the beginning of that episode didn’t trust Zuko until the end.

In conclusion, Kataang is a healthier relationship, as they had time to develop throughout the series, whereas Zuko and Katara didn’t have enough time to become a couple. In fact, in the comics (I only have “The Promise,” which I haven’t read all the way through yet), Katara and Aang’s relationship seems to be going strong. Besides, Zuko already had feelings for Mai at that time, anyway. At best, I view Zuko and Katara as nothing more than a sibling-type friendship, especially when you consider Zuko’s and Katara’s relationships with their actual siblings. Even if Zuko and Katara were to be a couple, it wouldn’t work out in the long run, because their personalities would clash. I wish that Z*tara shippers would just learn to accept the fact that Kataang is canon, stop attacking Bryke and Kataang shippers, and move on, because this war has been going on for fourteen years. In all fairness, Katara made the right choice by going with Aang.

TL;DR: Kataang is a better pairing than Z*tara, because Zuko and Katara did nothing but fight in the first two seasons, and they didn’t become friends until close to the end of the show.

#Avatar: the Last Airbender #not tagging the ship because I don't want to start trouble #long post

[fugeoni666]

- silent phobia - 

#vergil #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #dmc #dmc 5 #fugeoni #digital art #bruh this is q good concept to approach tbh #as he trying to fight the Nelo inside him #and thus the scars are there until he truly defeat it #hmmmm #yas

[genshin-impacted]

freudian slip // Childe x Reader (NSFW)

Word Count: <1k

Summary: Childe is very down to being dominated as long as it’s you. He respects you enough to give you control-- not that he’ll make it easy for you, but you’ve always been up to the challenge (and he knows it).   

Note: soft dom!reader, GN!reader, bratty sub!Childe (Tartaglia), NSFW, light BDSM, established relationship

.

If Childe seems hard to control, it is because he is. 

If not for the respect he has for the Tsaritsa and the belief in her vision for the world and her country, Childe would be hard pressed to take orders from anyone. Bowing his head at sight, using words of praise as a way of greeting, Childe is well-versed in veneration as long as it is well-earned. He has fought his way to where he is now, survived countless battles. He did not traverse the darkest of the abyss to be following the orders of just anyone.

And you are not just anyone. 

You, who have defeated him in battle-- you, who he has grown to respect-- you, who he loves with all his might, have the right to have the upperhand. 

It’s what he’s told you, but he does not make it easy for you, much to your exasperated amusement. But you’ve clashed with him multiple times, gone on many journeys with him to know him well enough on what he wants-- even if he would never say it out loud to you.

With consent given every time, a safe word on the tip of his tongue, though it has never been used thus far, Childe bites back at your every attempt to subdue him. He never truly sinks his teeth into you (metaphorically, no; literally, yes), but you know it is a challenge from him to you each time to control him. It’s not as though Childe doesn’t want to be at your beck and call, but there is always something in him that wants to fight back, to have you force him into submission.

Perhaps it is the inherent bloodlust or the learned fighting fire in him, but he wants his hands and knees on the floor with you pulling at the chains of his collar as he’s treated like the brat that he is instead of being coaxed to submission. (You treat him with such gentle hands; he feels your love from every touch of your fingertips on his body and he falls apart. He puts the control in your hands and feels justified in being enveloped in your kindness because you won him over fair and square.) 

So the next time the two of you find a chance to be intimate (“How do you like to be under me?” he says slyly, and you only reply back just as quickly, “How about you get on your knees instead?”),  he bares his fangs and tries to rile you up. He lets you tie his arms behind his back as he kneels, half naked before your wandering eyes, and asks you coyly what you’d like him to do. 

Let me pleasure you, he would tempt you. Sit on his face, use him to seek your own pleasure-- surely, that’s what you want? 

Childe feels his heart beat faster when he sees the glimmer of lust flash in your eyes. And right when he thinks he’s finally got you, you curl your hand underneath his chin and oh-so-gently lift his head up to kiss at the side of his mouth-- and he squirms. 

You let out a soft chuckle when he refines his pleading look into a stubborn glare. “Are they getting too tight for you?” You ask as he writhes in his box-tie confines. When he huffs a negative answer you tug at the ropes and tell him to stay. 

(He does.) 

When you step on his cock straining against his pants, Childe does his best to not jut up against your touch. Sweat streaks down his body in his efforts to stay just as you asked. You trace the scars littered on his body, hands sweeping across the muscles on his back, down his arms-- and you touch everywhere except where he most wants you (though he would never admit it). 

You seem to do this every time, lulling him into a space where he lets go. Childe takes all he has to move his head away from the fog that you bring him into.

“Aren't you being a little tame," Childe bites out instead. "Thought you were going to make me beg.”

Your lips upturn. "I said I'd make you get on your knees,” you say, and his breath hitches without his permission. “Never said anything about begging.”

Childe swallows when you push him from his knees until he's sitting on the mattress. As your hands curl around his bound arms, you situate yourself on top of him, fully clothed, holding the power from where you are with your sex just pressed still onto his cock and nothing more. 

“Sounds to me like you're the one who wants to beg." You tug on his hair and instinctively he moans, bucking his hips up against you as you hold him down with your legs. "Go on then," you murmur into his ear. "Beg." 

And with the exhilaration that comes with ‘losing,’ Childe lets you love him in the way only you can. 

#childe x reader #childe #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin smut #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader

[cienie-isengardu]

Can you do headcanons on SubScorp (Kuai Liang / Hanzo Hasashi) and the evolution of their relationship, please? ♡

Sure, just please keep in mind that rock has a better romantic sense than I ever will. I’m not a shipper in general and SubScorp has a lot to overcome in my mind to even get close as friends but I will do my best! In advance, sorry for the long text and especially opening. My hand slipped but I needed to build the romantic headcanons on something.

Oh, and I kinda threw away the canon timeline here and there and went with how I would write their relationship (and story, I guess) if I was given the chance.

At the beginning, Hanzo and Kuai were bitter enemies and their hate for each other was the exact reason why Quan Chi kept them working together. The revenants were creatures of vivid emotions, twisted and corrupted by Netherrealm fire. So the stronger they hated, the mightier were their unnatural powers. But there was also a more sinister reason: Quan Chi kept them together, day after day, because it amused him to watch how Sub-Zero and Scorpion wanted to hurt each other but always were defenseless against his magic, always blindly obedient. To have two deadliest of enemies as slaves under his power was the best perk of necromancy.

When they were revenants though, Quan Chi’s cruel joke meant nothing. Kuai Liang had no free will, no remorse, only hate and pain to go on. Hanzo could - should - run away, but didn’t. He was broken in thousands of little ways and it was easier to follow orders, to not think than take responsibility for his own choices, to face the utterly devastating feeling of failure. It wasn't a good life - it wasn’t a life at all, but it was all they had.

After so many days turned into weeks turned into months, the constant presence of each other became the punishment and the salvation at once. They hated each other and this hate never truly left them for a moment, never let them feel peace of mind. They hated each other but it was an emotion that bonded them together, grounded in reality, made sense in an otherwise senseless world.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang got used to each other that the presence of mutual disdain was as normal part of their cursed life as breathing for a living person.

But then Quan Chi lost and suddenly they both were brought to life against their will. The first weeks were the worst. They were victims of dark magic, everyone was saying but none of them was a killer responsible for thousands of brutal deaths. Not like Hanzo and Kuai Liang and because of that, the burden of guilt was their alone. A burden they didn’t want to share among themselves, so they sought out different paths to find some solace.

For Hanzo, there was nothing to come back. The home of Shirai Ryu was destroyed, devastated beyond any measure. He still heard clearly Quan Chi’s voice in his head, how he failed his clan, how shamed his wife and child. Hanzo felt dirty and unworthy and utterly lost. The once mighty Scorpion was now a wreck, a directionless nomad.

For Kuai Liang, the home was Lin Kuei but it was taken by cyber monsters without souls. Once he returned to living, those monsters hunted him restlessly. For years he ran and hid and killed and killed and killed and killed until he was ready to face Sektor and reclaim what was once his. An honor and a purpose in life, so he could find Scorpion and kill him for brother’s death. But then he learned dark secrets of the clan and even darker truths that changed everything.

Because of that, Kuai Liang invited Hanzo to Lin Kuei Temple, offered peace and a new start, a way to atone for all crimes and sins they committed arm to arm during war. Above everything else, offered the truth that finally set them both free from their cruel past.

They did not keep in touch then though. They met sporadically, when Raiden asked his Champions to assist in this or that little crisis. To hunt the demons that somehow survived the war, to find oh so rare, mystic artifact or two, or do a quick job in the Outworld. They were assassins after all and Special Forces the heroes who shouldn’t dirty their hands.

During those meetings, Hanzo and Kuai Liang tried to stay as far as possible without making a fuss about it. During missions though there was no one who could safely separate them, and thus save them from painful memories of the past.

It was terrifying to Hanzo how much he missed Sub-Zero’s cold presence at his side, even if the so well known hate for Bi-Han’s death still hid beneath the cryomancer's skin like a furious, wild beast, always present, never forgiving, kept in check only by Lin Kuei’s iron will.

It was terrifying for Kuai Liang how well he still understood Scorpion’s body language even though the ninja tried so desperately to hide scars left by Quan Chi on his soul, all those unsaid horrors he experienced, all the doubts and pain and self-hatred that burned as hot as Netherrealm fire that twisted them both.

But those sporadic joint missions alone weren’t what helped them connect once and forever.

Ironically, it was the guilt that let one understand so well the other, to know when it was a good time for jab and when not to speak - not to see - raw pain that both so hard tried to bury under their respective masks, of cold politeness and hot devotion to the past. Surprisingly, it was also the arrogance of united governments that wanted to use them to expand Earthrealm’s control over wild Outworld yet did not see them as human beings. To be seen as a useful tool but never truly welcome wasn’t anything new for any of them. Kuai Liang and Hanzo were a relic of a dark past that should have died years ago yet were too stubborn to just yield and blindly follow orders even again. This burning desire for independence and search for their lost humanity built a common ground, the bridge between past hate and empathy.

This, and their shared disdain for Johnny’s never ending jokes. In the past, every time the Champions of Earthrealm met in the same place and Cage opened his mouth to talk Hollywood's weirdness, Hanzo got closer and closer to Kuai Liang. There was no word of recognition or permission - one look at each other and they understood perfectly it was either stay strong together and endure this senseless, annoying wave of words or do something regrettable.

And because they already had enough guilt to worry about, Sub-Zero and Scorpion simply stood arm to arm, like they did during war. Somehow that comforting familiarity grew up into something much stronger; not yet friendship but unity anyway. Time did not heal them but the mutual hate faded little by little, day after day until pain was nothing more than bitter ache they simply learned to live with.

Despite everything and everyone, Hanzo and Kuai Liang got to trust each other, to rely on a bond that was once a cruel Quan Chi’s joke.

Sub-Zero was the person that accompanied Hanzo to the Shirai-Ryu clan’s ruins, so he could finally bury dead ones left there forgotten by the world. Hanzo should have done that long ago, he knew, but the claw of fear clung to his heart for years and would not let it. The fear that Hanzo Hasashi never truly existed and he was a fraud, another lie begotten by Netherrealm. That there was no Harumi nor Satoshi and in the end he clinged so desperately to a nightmare that never was true to begin with. A nightmare for which he murdered the wrong person and brought someone else this maddening pain.

Seeing the ruins of home - the once so familiar bodies now just flesh spread out, glistening bones scattered everywhere, ripped and crushed, forgotten - was like dying again. Hanzo broke down and for the first time in a decade allowed himself to cry. Kuai Liang was there by his side, offering no wise words, nor comfort. He simply sat there, back to back with Hanzo, so he could know he wasn’t truly left alone this time yet quietly like a shadow to not disturb his grief. Hanzo would never forget this kindness for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t forget the sacrifice made that day by Sub-Zero to come to mortuary ruins, to bury another clan slaughtered without mercy in the name of madness and spite.

But with pain came also relief, that his memories were truly his and not another sweet lie whispered to his ear by a twisted sorcerer.

(Kuai Liang came here because it was the right thing to do. To pay respect and melt the dark past into a better future in which Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei could be an ally, maybe even brothers in arms. He came for Hanzo, because no one did that for him, when he had countless bodies of comrades to bury after Sektor’s defeat and no one should be forced to do so alone. He came there also for himself, to see and be sure Bi-Han wasn’t part of the heartless crime. The hallmarks of a frontal attack, chaotic destruction and coarse, devoid of surgical precision violence were proof it wasn’t Bi-Han’s work. His brother would never be so sloppy, so random in his attack. He even told so Hanzo, in this moment of relief and social clumsiness and Scorpion just looked at him with the reddened eyes and did not burst in flame of anger, just… accepted the truth and Kuai Liang said no more about it.)

Scorpion was the person that stayed at Kuai Liang’s side when Frost betrayed her master and disappeared without a trace. He never liked the cryomancer girl - she reminded him too much of Sub-Zero who sought him for brother’s death. Young and brash, untamed, always snarling, spitting with venom in their face. But above everything else, Frost’s anger burned too hot like his own and he hated to look at her and to see himself.

Maybe losing such a precious student - an heir - was like losing a child. Hanzo understood this crushing feeling but there were no right words to offer. Even if he knew them, Sub-Zero did not want pity, did not want to talk. All he needed was a space to unleash fury and pain, the excess of emotions too large to bury them in the tomb of a cold heart. And so day after day, night after night, the ice and fire clashed over and over again until all muscles burned and the ache brought finally some peace. Not much, but enough to let Kuai Liang not dwell on his failure and focus on Grandmaster’s duties.

(There was something off about this whole situation but Hanzo couldn’t pick on what exactly. Kuai Liang had secrets he didn’t share, not yet and Hanzo respected his wishes, trusting Lin Kuei’s word. So far, Kuai Liang never had let him down. Scorpion trusted and it was terrifying on its own).

Those were the little steps into a path that brought them closer. It wasn't love for each other then, not even romantic infatuation, but love for the lost one, for family that was once but no longer. They understood this grief too well.

The first time Hanzo felt the pang of love, he and Kuai Liang were debating about the proper course of the upcoming mission. They were sitting in Hanzo’s room, with an open door leading to the Fire Garden. Then, without warning came spring rain and both looked out on instinct. The air was filled with the freshness of trees and flowers coming back to life; a freshness they breathed in greedily to wash out the taste of Netherrealm ash forever.

On that day, everything seemed to be in the right place. Just the two of them, sitting arm to arm delighted by the simplest things in life; a warm rain, nourishing garden, a steaming mug of tea between all of this. There was a peace Hanzo did not feel for ages and the sound of the rain and steady breath of his companion lulled him into half-sleep, half-awareness.

On that day, Hanzo wished to keep this moment forever.

The second time Hanzo felt something toward Kuai Liang, it was on Lin Kuei’s training ground. They spared, like they always did in their free or stressful time, but for whatever reason, Kuai Liang smiled at him, this soft, weirdly cocky smile he rarely shows in company and Hanzo looked at it for a few seconds too long before he understood how fast his heart beat, how warmness filled him - not the Netherrealm fire that burns through his muscles and bones, but warmth that he felt only around his wife and child. He wanted to kiss those lips, to feel its coldness on his own. It was wrong on so many levels and he did what he always does in times of overwhelming emotions he didn’t like. He disappeared into flames and ran the hell away from Sub-Zero’s smile. The burned holes to this day were the proof of his shameful panic.

Where did such obscene thoughts come from, he did not have an idea. But the guilt for having them even for a moment about Kuai Liang - any man, really - was too heavy, too suffocating to face Sub-Zero. So Hanzo avoided him for weeks.

And yet, he came back to Lin Kuei Temple. And again and again and again. Despite the burning shame, he sought out Kuai Liang, because only around him, the Netherrealm’s cursed fire cooled down enough to allow him to breathe.

So he danced, between disgrace and this weird feeling of happiness, of living again. Of seeking out the cryomancer and running away from horrific emotion he didn’t know how to get rid off, how to tame.

(Hanzo loved Harumi with all his heart. How could he love - desire - anyone else? And a man whose brother he unjustly killed?)

Kuai Liang decided to not discuss Scorpion’s emotional swings until Hanzo figured it out for himself what he truly wanted. There was no point to get involved into some sentimental drama if there was no hope for sensible agreement.

The Lin Kuei always desired a new generation of warriors, so sex wasn’t any taboo. Some warriors sought comfort in the arms of strange women and men, some between each other. Sex wasn’t forbidden but the emotions were. To feel loyalty or worse, love, to a fellow warrior instead of trusting the masters was a crime.

Kuai Liang did not feel any sudden pang of love toward Hanzo, nor any desire for physical contact. Romanticism never was part of any cryomancer’s nature. He missed his brother and Smoke, but year after year the pain of loss dulled enough to leave him with nothingness. Kuai Liang knew only this: somehow Scorpion became the only source of warmth that kept his heart from freezing completely.

Kuai Liang didn’t have a proper name for what twirled in his soul - a friendship or a love, how one could tell those apart? He wished his older brother or Smoke was there to tell him it was alright to like - care for - Hanzo, but both were dead and twisted into monsters. It was just him and his fragile, scarred heart to judge what was right and what was not. And hope Bi-Han would forgive him the weakness.

They find the balance that keeps both safe, warming the frozen heart and cooling down the neverending flame of anger. For a decade or so, it worked well.

But then Hanzo killed Quan Chi and ruined the chance to free revenants from sorcerer’s curse. The Champions of Earthrealm never liked Scorpion to begin with, now he was persona non grata. Rightly so. Imprisoned, he awaited their judgment. Scorpion could easily escape but chose not to - he was ready to face the consequences yet there was no court nor punishment. The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei came for him and made it clear to all representatives of the united governments and army that he will with Hanzo at his side, over their dead bodies if need be.

Twenty years was not enough time to forget what they together were capable of in fight. How dangerous and experienced murderers they were. No one dared to stop them when they left military base together.

Kuai Liang did not rely on words to show his feelings. Deeds always spoke more than any pretty speech. He was disappointed yet he still came for Hanzo. He saw Scorpion’s arrogance, egoism, breaking point and still came and that only made Hanzo love him more. For the first time, he did not feel shame or guilt for loving - and being loved - by another man.

Hanzo Hasashi’s choice almost brought destruction to the world yet somehow, this tragedy made them inseparable for good. It wasn’t always easy - they argued, for fun and for real and there were still rare days when it was only wise to stay away from each other. Like the day of Bi-Han’s unjust death and the lost chance to bring Harumi and Satoshi to life. They were beyond the primal hate yet some instincts were too strong to risk destroying what they built for themselves over the years.

Somehow through the years they changed from Sub-Zero and Scorpion to Grandmasters of their respective clans and from those to just Kuai Liang and Hanzo.

Hanzo wasn’t used to being so casually called by name but he liked the change. It was Sub-Zero’s voice, he suspected, that made him feel so attracted. At the same time, he felt honored when Kuai Liang told his birth - forbidden - name. He knew it already, for years, but it was different to know and be told, allowed, to use it freely.

Hanzo’s turbulent relationship with other Champions got worse once his student, Takeda started dating Jaqueline Briggs. The Champions distrusted and disliked him and he didn’t feel any need to reconcile with them. Kuai Liang was disappointed in him for treating the girl coldly but everytime asked why he still bothered to deal with Shirai Ruy Grandmaster, the answer was one and the same - he is my equal. For Hanzo it was the most beautiful and terrifying declaration.

(At the same time, everytime Hanzo heard someone accusing Sub-Zero of being cold, heartless, untouched by trauma, the anger burned him wholly. Who were they to judge, to mock Kuai Liang’s pain that hid so well under polite words and calmness? He did not care what people said about him, but would not stand any mockery against those he respected - loved - so much.)

Then of course another immortal being decided to screw up everything and messed up timelines. The younger, brash and mad version of Scorpion wasn’t something that Hanzo and Kuai Liang actually wanted to see, nor the repeat of Cyber Lin Kuei. Then Hanzo died and woke up, again trapped in Netherrealm. So he ran at the first chance, thinking more about Kuai Liang than about his own fears of burning alive in hell forever. The sight of Sub-Zero in hell should have alarmed him - and it did, for a moment, scare Hanzo that the other man died too which was an unbearable thought. But Kuai Liang was alive and so, so determined to bring him back home. If that wasn’t the loudest, the most tangible declaration of love, what else could it be?

And so, like twenty years ago, they fight side to side, like one body and soul. And destroyed, killed, tore apart demons and hellspawn, everything and everyone that stood in their way to freedom, to safety of Earthrealm’s boundaries. First time in ages, they could unleash their anger at those who hurt them, enslaved, and used. It felt so good, so right to be a storm of vengeful fury that frightened even the mighty Netherrealm. They were alive and together and nothing, no gods, titans or destiny, could stop them.

Kuai Liang and Hanzo did not talk much about their last visit in Netherrealm. What happened there was their and only their moment to relish, incomprehensible for bystanders. It was weird though, to come back to live and face his younger, stubborn self. Kuai Liang did not like this Scorpion much and to be honest, Hanzo did not like this version of himself too. It was Scorpion from the darkest time in their past, when only mutual hate connected them. At the same time, there was something amusing to see himself so awkward and uneasy everytime when Kuai Liang and older Hanzo sat so closely, relaxed and calm, like it was the normalest thing to do. When they acted like halves of the same soul.

Kuai Liang never was keen to show any romantic gestures but sometimes he took Hanzo’s hand to emphasize clearly what they were. Hanzo was always surprised by Sub-Zero’s openness and filled with joy, whereas his younger self was confused as hell. Hanzo suspected he would soon need to talk and explain to his younger self what he and Kuai Liang were to each other. Why they needed each other so much and how loving someone else other than Harumi was not dishonor. After all, love wasn’t sin nor weakness.

#mortal kombat #my replies #kuai liang #hanzo hasashi #sub zero #scorpion #my headcanons #long text #not sure if this is enough about romantic aspect of their relationship #and i will forever see kuai liang as asexual aromantic sorry not sorry at all #hanzo is emotional wreck #kuai is depressed and somehow they could work i guess? #thank you for ask! #i have more to say about the mk11 storyline but the text was already too long to bring bi han into the emotional life of his lil bro

[imnotwolverine]

Signs

Geralt of Rivia x reader (smutty fic)

Word count: 2.371

Disclaimer: Witcher signs and some kind of smut

Author’s note: I’ve been reading a bunch of snippets from Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher books and one of them described a meeting between Eskel and Triss. Triss was taken aback when he touched her, because his Witcher skin triggered “pleasant, but piercing vibrations”. WELP. I don’t know about you, but; count me horny, girls.

Go to Signs part 2 or read Signs part 3

--

Simmering eyes. That’s how you’d describe them.

Throughout the night they had made sure to land at least a dozen times on your form as you drank and danced with your fellow townsfolk, the beast now defeated and your lives saved. But it had not been a knight in shining armour that had fended off the beast. No. It had been him, a weary man in tattered boiled leather armour, his face studious and ..simmering.

It fascinated you.

Between the dances you’d steal glances at the peculiar stranger, the flames of a fire that roared in the middle of the square dancing over his face as his large hand thumbed over his cup of mead. With those peculiar eyes he watched some flirty wenches, their giggles bouncing off the buildings that surrounded the square, some young men trying to steal their attention for the night. But, what these wenches seemed to forget was that there was probably only one who could TRULY show them a good night.

Him.

That is..if the stories were true. Weren’t Witchers known for their outstanding stamina..and..eh..*aherm*.. virility?

The very idea of what could be hiding beneath that worn leather armour made your legs tingle and cheeks grow hot, the song you were dancing to ending and your partner thankfully not noticing the sudden heat that crossed your face. ‘Thank you.’ You mumbled at him before turning on your heel, wishing to step out to refresh yourself but finding yet another suitor before you.

Him.

Like in a blur he offered you a gracious greeting bow, white hair slipping over his wide shoulders before he rose to full height again, his frame towering a good foot above you. There was not really a question in whether or not you’d accept this dance, his feet already stepping closer, pushing you back into the dancing circle as a new tune was struck.

He hadn’t danced with anyone else yet, so you couldn’t help but feel both confused and flattered at once, more heat rising to your cheeks as you finally managed to take a good close look at the Witcher. And dare you say..he was a rather pleasant specimen to look at. High cheekbones, strong jawline. And those eyes. Those eyes!

‘I was about to cool down for a bit.’ You smiled sheepishly, receiving a wolfish grin from him. ‘Well I am just warming up.’

His voice was deep and honey, rumbling through his chest like a summer thunder. Delightfully so. You couldn’t help but become putty before he even inched close enough to start the dance, the rest of the crowd already twirling and laughing around you. It was as if the late summer air had grown more thick and the fires burned more brightly when the White wolf raised his arms in a dancing stance, your arms quick to follow suit and interlace fingers with his. And how. You weren’t sure if it was the mead in your blood or the heat of his touch, but like little sparkles, a strong force emitted from his being. It buzzed from his skin.

Like magic.

Then again. Witchers did indeed use some type of magic. So perhaps..just maybe..maybe he..You looked back up in his eyes, mirth shining there as he gripped you more tightly, an arm sneaking around your lower back before pulling you incredibly close. You didn’t know this man’s name. Where he was from. Or if he even WAS a man to begin with. But here you were. Noses nearly touching, eyes melting into one another as his feet started manoeuvring you with effortless grace through the crowd.

He hadn’t looked like much of a dancer, but apparently he was one for pleasant surprises. Light feet did not once mislead, even now you could feel the heat and alcohol happily buzzing through your foggy brain. It was like you were floating, the thick crowd around you forgotten as you looked up, studying the Witcher. His countenance seemed far less reserved now you were so close to him. In fact, he seemed to have fun. A sparkle hid in the severity of his tight jaw, focused eyes, fingers tracing some deliberate circles over your back as you moved.

‘What is it you see?’ He grumbled again, eyes flicking back to meet yours, sending with it yet another shivery tremble through your nervous thighs. Oh, what was it with this man that made you so weak at the knees? Quickly recomposing yourself you laughed, the sound tinkling above the joyous banter of the crowd. ‘Oh Witcher. I guess I.. see you.’ You winked and leaned a little more into the arm he kept snuggly held around your back, trusting him to support you.

‘You are not afraid.’ He stated, as if nearly surprised, golden eyes studying you as you looked ahead to see where you were going - he was steering you to the outer ring of the dancing crowd, where the couples danced more slowly. Less erratically. But thereby offering opportunity to talk. And be more acutely aware of those sparks that seemed to dance on the Witcher’s skin.

A strange feeling indeed.

‘Curious, mostly.’ You smiled.

‘About what?’

‘You.’ You said, shrugging nonchalantly. Was that the alcohol talking? You were glad that you were old enough to have built a life of your own, your parents never having to hear about this..whorish..act on your behalf. Dance with a monster? Speak the tongues of seduction? Were you insane?!

‘And why is that?’ He enjoyed it.

Another jolt washed through you. Was he..was he doing that on purpose? You eyed where your hands were connected, his grip tight and warm around your proffered palm. You couldn’t see anything, but..

*spark*

HE WAS DOING IT AGAIN.

‘Ho-how..?’ You breathed, blinking as you obviously felt something. Not only in your hand. Also..*aherm*..eh..down between your thighs. The Witcher laughed, hands pulling you even closer, nose now brushing close to the shell of your ear. ‘I can smell you.’ He whispered huskily, the timber of his voice making yet another shiver run over your skin.

Alright, whether or not you were a whore. He was intriguing. You had to give him that. And the alcohol in your veins was definitely not helping, your lips curling up, all on their own accord. ‘Hahah..and what is it you are smelling good lord?’ - ‘Hmm. I’m afraid I am no lord, milady.’

‘Well I am not a “milady”, sir.’

‘And I am no “sir” either…wren.’

‘Wren?’ You shook your head in amusement. ‘I am no bird..wolf. You see, I cannot fly.’ You managed to escape his arms, fluttering your arms playfully at your sides as you slipped into the more wildly dancing inner circle, leaving the Witcher behind. The Witcher’s grin grew, nose sniffing the air to follow your scent.

‘I’ll make you.’

—

You knew he was not far behind. With fast feet you sped through the crowd, moving closer and closer to the fire that centred the village square. The heat was blazing here, making the dancing sweat on your muscles loosen again, small droplets gathering in the back of your neck. Looking around carefully you couldn’t see him. All you saw was a few hundred people minding their own business; drinking, dancing, making merry. And quite naughtily so. Your eye fell on a pair that was no longer moving in the crowd, feet halted and hands tugging at half-undone clothes, fingers roaming where they probably shouldn’t in public. The woman’s stays were leaving little to the imagination, her voluptuous chest near spilling out as the man duck down to lick the deep crevice between.

‘You fly not far.’ Him again, dark voice humming in your ear. You jolted up, wishing to flee again, but this time there was no room, no way, the fire blocking one side and his large chest the other. ‘I told you I can’t…-’ You turned to protest, but lost your train of thought as he pressed his nose back up against yours, nudging it. He was so close and the fire was so hot in your spine that you could literally feel yourself melt, feet not managing to get away even if you wanted to.

The wolfish grin returned and with half an eye the Witcher also peered at the naughty couple a few meters ahead, their tongues now dancing. You couldn’t help but steal the moment yourself to just stare at him, the close flames now brightening up his whole face until no hair or scar could be missed. He WAS handsome to a fault. Even the small scar just above his eyebrow seemed to only enhance his looks, those simmering honeyed eyes now turning back to you as his thumb brushed up over your cheek, feeling the slight stick of sweat there before he gripped your jaw.

His fingertips sparked again with that energy, that magic, a cold shiver running down your spine despite the heat of fire and flesh around you. It awoke that barely cooled down slick between your thighs, your legs awkwardly wishing to squeeze and rub together to alleviate the frustration that was steadily building there. And the Witcher..he didn’t seem to miss your condition, lips tugging up in a smile as he leaned even closer, lips now nearly touching yours, fingers cupped your face in two large hands, tipping your head back for easy access.

And you allowed it. Whore! Whore!

‘Little wren.’ The Witcher broke through your thoughts, fang-like teeth appearing behind his silky lips. His smile was strange. But you couldn’t care, your eyes already lost in those burning orbs of gold. This man could do anything with you as he seemed fit, that much was clear as you didn’t protest one bit, body mush beneath his tingling fingertips.

*SPARK*

You gasped as that same energy surged more strongly through his finger pads, shooting straight down your spine and out your nerve endings. Making that coil inside your stomach twist and twirl.

His smile grew.

Slowly one of his hands dipped lower, travelling a slow and tantalising path down your neck, thumb finding the top of your stays, just hidden beneath your simple blue cotton dress. More sparks buzzed as four more fingers joined his thumb, a full hand now placed on your bosom, your breath choking in its confines. ‘Please.’ You begged - though you were not sure what for, his lips still awfully close to yours. He did, however. A silent gasp glued to your lips as he dipped down, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, placing a gentle kiss there. The combination of wild electricity, a two-day old beard and soft plushy lips was almost worth flying for. Almost.

With trembling legs you quivered beneath his touch, the hand that had rested on your bosom quick to swoop around your lower back again, pressing you impossible close as his lips nibbled on, finding the line of your jaw, cheekbone, his breath hot on your already heated skin. Even his lips seemed to elicit power. Small, but piercing little vibrations running through your nerve endings at every brush of his silky touch.

Again, it felt like you were floating, though this time the dance was different. It was..not dancing at all. Was this flying, then? Your legs could no longer stand as your eyes rolled closed, body giving in to the pleasure that sparked in your loins. How could he do that without even touching you down there? Lolling your head back for a moment his lips took the opportunity to travel down your neck, nipping and nudging you further to the frayed edge of reason. But you needed more before you could truly fall - or fly. Opening your eyes you were met with those simmering yellow orbs again, his lips and hands not hesitating to give you what you needed. It was like he could read your mind, the hand on your lower back travelling lower, pressing your hip into the curve of his arousal, hot and throbbing beneath his breeches.

And sending off an energy that broke your lips apart again.

‘Oh my..’ You breathed, your parted lips an invitation he couldn’t refuse, his kiss now finally placed where it was needed. Sweet, honey..sparkles, his tongue brushing hot and velvety inside, sending more energy through your limp limbs until all you could do was give in. Give in to his hard softness. His sweet tanginess. His..Wait, tanginess? Blood? You only noticed now that he had bit down on your lip, tongue soothing back over the small nip. But could you care? Not as of right now. With a groaning moan you bit back, his upper lip caught between your teeth as the hand on your bum now rubbed you more fiercely against his clothed erection, the many layers between you only causing more friction. More…

ARGH

It was like there were a hundred hands caressing your skin, tingling and tickling and loving and..OH SWEET MERCY! His lips retook the reigns, forcing your lips apart again as his tongue delved deeper into you, sending with it the last of HIS mercy, your whole body now convulsing in his tight grip.

Flying.

It took a good long moment to realise that the dance had ended and people were changing partners again, making it a perfect moment to escape. But it wouldn’t be alone. Your legs wobbled dangerously - as if drunk - the Witcher now leading you back to the outer edge of the square, his arm strong as steel around your trembling physique. Once you were back in the calm, he turned, thumb brushing over your swollen lips, finding a little blood there. ‘Ai. A wounded bird.’ He studied the small gash that he had made in your lip, but all you could do was smile, the spark of his touch numbing all pain.

‘Better kiss me to make it better.’

‘Hmm.’ He smiled, then slowly shook his head once. ‘No.’

‘No?’ You felt hurt by his sudden refusal. Was he just going to discard you after..after…?!

‘I know something else to do. But not here…’ He leaned in closer, nose sniffing in your scent - and your arousal - again.

‘..little wren.’

--

Go to Signs part 2 >

--

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #smut #public #witcher signs #signs #oneshot #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt smut #shalliwriteafollowup?

[shinsoups]

Student No. 22 —

m a s t e r l i s t

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader x class 1A

genre: 1tbsp of crack, 1 tsp of fluff, a sprinkle of angst and 1 cup of chaotic randomness

synopsis: y/n was certain she would never be a Hero. She had a different goal in her mind, and that is to be a great doctor someday. With a terrible past she wants to forget, she vows she would never use her Quirk and will never let the world know what it is. Not until she finds out that the invincible quirk she thought she has can also have a certain weakness.

random updates

trigger warning : mentions of abuse/torture

OO2 : The Principal —

There were hushed voices inside the conference room, debating on the current issue everyone seemed to disagree on. The only people who wasn’t much interested was Ectoplasm and Vlad King cause according to the latter “It wouldn’t hurt to teach another student, no matter what the circumstance is. Midnight is just making this into a big issue.” Thus a meeting was called for everyone to know the real reason.

This would be one hectic semester, Cementoss whispers as he scans the folder he was holding. Two weeks had passed since the other teachers found out about the new transferee recommended at U.A. Midnight was the first to disagree on the idea. Why would they even accept a new student in the middle of a new semester? And to top it all, a quirkless girl who has no desire of becoming a Hero.

“Before I start,” Principal Nezu’s voice came out of nowhere. “I hope everyone will understand what the situation of this child we’re talking about and why I invited her to come to U.A.”

Present Mic’s boisterous laughter interrupted the silence looming inside the room and pointed at Aizawa’s shoulder. He was trying to hold it in but the sight in front him was just too much.

He shook his head; this is going to be a tiring meeting. Pressing his temple Aizawa sighed, “I’m pretty sure we have more chairs.” Addressing their principal as if he was patiently talking to a child.

“It’s nice and warm over here, though” the principal chided. Cuddling closer to Aizawa’s shoulder and wrapping his tiny body with the wrap scarf Aizawa always sported. The sight was so hilarious yet no one dared laugh except Present Mic as Aizawa’s eyes shone red in warning, his hair flaring up in annoyance.

Aizawa shook his head in defeat, leaning forward to take the file in front of him. “She agreed to visit and see my class once school started once again.” His monotonous voice started.

“But I’m sure she’s not convinced to attend the school. She’s a smart kid even without us knowing what her Quirk truly is. She’s lying about something as if she’s subconsciously protecting herself. Principal Nezu would like to conduct a little experiment about her.” He gave his report after meeting you. He was set and determined to give you an answer after that day and after telling Nezu what he observed about you, the Principal came up with an interesting plan.

Nezu reach his tiny arm upward, patting Aizawa’s head and continued, “The girl is not Quirkless." All-Might squinted his eyes. Something is up and he was right all along.

"To tell you all the truth, she could defeat all of us here if she wanted to. Her strength if given a chance to grow could be on par with a Pro Hero.”

A hushed tension once again filled the room. All eyes on the Principal, Thirteen was the first one to ask. “Her file says she’s Quirkless, even registered as one. What could you possibly mean she could defeat us?”

Sliding down Aizawa’s scarf, Principal Nezu walked towards his chair and opened the same file everyone was holding. Staring at the letter he received from your late grandfather, he was certain he could share some information about you, leaving some things unsaid for your own safety.

“She was born out of Quirk Marriage. Her parents were known scientist that died in an unfortunate accident six years ago. I know you all remember this since you were there, Thirteen.”

Nezu looked at everyone as if he said something taboo. The infamous accident that killed several heroes in action. There were already several controversies rounding about it saying that the laboratory was conducting inhuman experiments on orphaned kids who possesses rare quirks at such a young age. The Hero Association knows about something yet everyone kept their mouths sealed. The news died down months after the accident. Yet the heroes who were there to witness will never forget about it.

“Her parents were obsessed on what power she would acquire. Enough to sacrifice their own child in the name of science.” Nezu looked at All-Might. His cerulean eyes stared back almost seeing the horrific incident once again.

“The bandages she wears around her arms…” All-Might trailed off. Imagining the horrors you experienced at your parents own hands. He was there, he was the one who saved you and freed you from it. All-Might closed his eyes, trying to forget the frail body he held, who was fighting and holding on for dear life. “So it was her.” He pondered.

“Countless experiment done by her own parents. They were mad so to speak. Once she reached the age of four she didn’t show any signs of inheriting either of their Quirks. The scars she received for almost five years of torture made her so conscious about it so she kept her skin hidden.” Nezu dropped the file and looked at Aizawa.

Everyone flinched. No one dared to ask again. Minutes felt like hours— as if a bucket of cold water was thrown over everyone’s faces. A tiny clap took everyone’s attention back at their principal. “I expect everyone will not agree to this, but according to her grandparents had told me in the letter, she might have inherited both her parents power.”

“Might? It’s just a possibility. We’re not even sure, right? It's not like she'll suddenly turn into a villain, right?” Midnight contradicted.

“That is why I came up with a plan and invited her here. She needs guidance. One thing she never get to experience.” Nezu smiled at her. His tiny paws clasped in front of him, leaving no room for arguments anymore. “I would like to know and see for ourselves. One week from now, one of Shota-kun’s student will help us in executing this plan.” His gaze drifted back to the raven-haired man.

“You know something we don’t.” Midnight eyed the Principal, itching to find out what he meant by you defeating them, Pro-Heroes, even without any proper training or whatsoever. Did she felt inferior? Why was she scared of your presence when she hasn’t even met you in person? Sighing in defeat she announces, “I’ll accept her once she shows something interesting.”

Nezu only smiles at her knowingly. “Good! Now who wants tea?”

taglist: @b0ku4ka @sugarandsoft @roesaurus @moonlightbae14 @therealwalmartjesus @redperson58

i got a taglist im soft ~ want to join? just leave a comment my dudes ✨

a/n: i just wanted to write a fic about Nezu and Aizawa using the 1st photo above kskskks 🤗 hence the chapter and title (i still dont know why i wrote this)

likes, comments and reblogs is highly appreciated 🐣this is my first time writing bnha so tips and comments are really helpful ! ✨

#bnha #aizawa shouta #principal nezu #shinsou hitoshi #bnha x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #class 1a #boku no hero academia #sey writes

[invictarre-archive]

so, I have been Informed about the pokemon masters event, and honestly for the most part there's not a lot of need for canon divergence on my end

there are going to be some slight changes, however, which are detailed below

first off, I'd like to remind you that my masters verse is in the post game, whereas I know canon has him as the champion still. that's not a new change, but it's worth reiterating

leon didn't agree to specifically catch eternatus, nor did he view its appearance as a good chance for a rematch. he agreed to help because it was a threat to the people on pasio, but he'd never throw a pokeball at something that nearly killed him the last time he tried that and left him with significant trauma. he was actually hoping it'd be subdued by the wolves, as it was back in Galar

with zacian and zamazenta fainted, leon's sync move was an act of desperation more than anything else. not only was he concerned for the safety of gloria and his brother, but he had literally an entire island full of people to think about. the only reason he risked the safety of charizard by pitting him against eternatus is because he had no other choice. had he failed, it would have continued to rampage and dynamax other people's pokemon until either it fled or the island was evacuated

however, the sync move worked and eternatus was able to feed from its energy. as it is a much cleaner source of food than galar's native dmax, seeing as how the latter has been poisoned by the initial firing of the ultimate weapon, it allows eternatus some rare moments of clarity and calm, rather than constantly feeding into the dragon's vicious urges. pasio eternatus is the nicest eternatus you're ever gonna get

and finally, eternatus didn't choose leon specifically. he was just the strongest sync pair at the scene, and thus the one able to best harness the sync stone's energy and put out the highest amount of it in battle. it appreciates his capabilities purely because they relate directly to its diet, not because it's suddenly gained an appreciation for humans and their pokemon battles. had leon not been there, or had he been overshadowed by a stronger sync pair, eternatus would have found someone else to pair with

now, this whole event has left leon having to face his trauma a lot quicker than he would have liked, as well as in a far from ideal situation. though he does eventually grow to be comfortable around eternatus, and though his pasio battles are all smothered with his signature 'lets have ourselves a champion time!' confidence, he's not going to be nearly as collected about this in private

because he's scared. truly, deeply scared, and there's nothing he can do about it because he can't trust eternatus to play nicely with any other trainer. he has to keep it by his side, if only because charizard is strong enough to keep it from acting out, because giving it to someone else or releasing it entirely means risking it running out of food again and repeating this whole catastrophe

the only real positive he gets from this is that his scars become a symbol of pride, rather than an insecurity. they show that he survived his first encounter with eternatus and defeated it on his second, that he is courageous enough to get attacked by a deity and still come back to oppose it in future. they're very visible in his sygna suit, with the scars themselves running from his right shoulder all the way down across his chest, looking like little branching lightning bolts, finally ending somewhere just above his left hip

#pokemon masters spoilers #get on up to my cloud; 'cause ain't nobody here taking us down / v; pasio. #we paddled across a sea of ash; sweat and blood and outstretched hands / eternatus.

[lotornomiko]

The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Eight (Not safe for work)

I'll say not safe for work just in case...but it's more about Belle's thoughts and feelings....so its like heavy on the dub con angst of what almost could have happened...actually finished reworking it over two hours ago, but then I slacked off hardcore on doing any proofreading...^^''

Her heart already so battered and abused, pulsed inside her now with an ever so erratic beat, that wild tempo producing a sound that was so furious that it felt like it actually HURT. It even seem to echo within her ears, and made for a harsh throbbing in her breast, Belle digging fingers into her chest over its place, in an unconscious display meant to contain that frightened part inside her. It still left her wide eyed and shaking regardless, the woman gathering her knees close to her body in an effort to huddle in close on herself. She made herself small, as small as the pirate had reduced her to actually feeling, the beauty struggling to breathe. That deep exhale of sound, was shaky at best, a great shudder working its way through her, the urge to outright start sobbing in hysterics upon her.

Even though she swallowed back such a sound, Belle still looked the part, her blurry eyed misery unable to truly emphasize the deepest depths of the pain and the fright that she struggled with still. The trauma, its scar running deep, a lasting wound having been inflicted that would see her bleed that hurt all over, the woman outright shaking from its effect. From it, and from him, the man—the pirate who was the cause of one potent half of her suffering. That broken heart the least of her problems now, Hook had put a real fear in her, the dread and regret that the young lady had started out with, magnified to new levels of extreme, the threat of him, of that which he still wanted from her, so pressing and real a danger, Belle menaced by Hook from the very second that he had swaggered into her cell in the queen’s prison tower.

It hadn’t gotten better from there, the man taking far too many liberties, stealing kisses and more, those inappropriate touches a herald of the dark promise that had been in his eyes. That lust that was so unrelenting a beast, the pirate taking every opportunity to let Belle know just how much he has wanted her. That body of hers that with which he wanted to make his plunder, the princess objectified by the expectations of his misguided desire. He had made her into this wild fantasy, some twisted dream like figure that had weighed her down with that need of his pressuring her to perform.

She hadn’t, she COULDN’T, Belle unable and unwilling to let herself be remade into this man’s lustful idea of a fantasy. Her desire dead, she was as far removed from the embodiment of sin and seduction as one could be, that teary eyed misery blurring her vision, the woman pale faced and sniffling, her beautiful blue eyes rimmed red from her crying. Even at her most pain stricken, Belle remained wary, watching the pirate while weeping. She also couldn’t stop glaring, conscious of his everything, from each breath that he took, to the visible emotion that played out on his face. He was frustrated, but also one part ravenous, his storm dark gaze still holding that desire, that hunger for her. He couldn’t stop staring at her in turn, and there was a fine tremor that worked its way through his otherwise still body, an indecision playing out in the thoughts in his head. He was all predator, like a great big jungle cat, a panther, ready to pounce at the slightest of provocation or weakness. She tried not to give him either one of those things, but there was no stopping her tears.

Exhausted by them, by him, and by this situation, she had been riding on her fright and that of her anger for too long. For the more than a day’s travel by horseback, Belle had been left on edge during the entire escape, set there on that precipice by the pirate, when he had burst into the room that had served as as her cage. What could have been a savior, had revealed itself with the true colors of a villain, Belle’s shock at his arrival, at seeing him again, lost to the anger that had ignited when the pirate had accosted her the very first chance that he had gotten. Tumbled down onto the cot of her prison, her outrage hadn’t yet given into a full blooming of fear. But when it had hit, it had hit hard, the fright something that began like a snowball hurling down a mountain, picking up size the longer that it went, until it had literally snowballed out of control.

Now they both reaped the rewards of a fear that had had time to build out of their ability to control, Hook stymied by Belle’s tears. By her inability to stop her crying, the miserable state that she had been reduced to, maybe the only thing capable of getting him to consider stopping at all. She was aware of it too, the effect her terrified state was having, every tear delaying what had become inevitable, that victory a bitter one though, born of the moment when the last remaining bit of her hope had been snuffed out. She couldn’t even muster a true anger in this instance, Belle a self loathing creature that was hating the fact that she been reduced to crying. To becoming this blubbering mess that had her feeling so weak knee and helpless. Made absolutely miserable by this, she was also embarrassed, having been brought low to such a humiliation, all powerless save for that of her tears and the effect that they had thus far had.

She wasn’t normally one to give another the satisfaction of her tears, especially a man like the pirate. But with her hope and her spirit broken, with nothing left to truly lose, Belle herself had shattered, breaking apart in his embrace. Pieces of her now scattered, the young woman had yet to attempt to gather them back, instead lost to the moment, and others like it, the beauty knowing that she would never forget, never be able to even try, every second spent with Hook, leaving its very brand upon her. Bodily and on her soul, and most searing was her mind, the memory of how he had frozen in shock with the realization of her tears. That confused look in his eyes, the grimace twisting his lips, the man both concerned and bothered by her response, all this and more were details that replayed in her head, Belle not just remembering it, but repeatedly reliving it. FEELING it, that clean masculine scent of him thick in the air, the sensual touch of his firm lips, and an even harsher rasp of his beard hairs upon her skin. The hand made calloused from years of handling weapons, caressing her body, lower and lower, until it had finally lodged itself between her thighs. Nothing had been able to prepare her for that, to protect her, least of all the thin fabric of her panties, his scalding heat communicated to her, it and that touch such an intrusive and unwanted thing. The fingers moving over her had made her go cold, a bone deep shiver felt a second before her entire body had gone tense. She had been freezing up, unable to relax, unable to give in, Belle beyond all hope in that moment, defeated and frightened, and trying her hardest not to cry.

Even that choice was taken from her, Belle bursting into tears. She’d never understand it, never understand HIM, the woman confused by that inexplicable reaction, the pirate having stopped at the sight of her distressed state. She didn’t know why, and Belle didn’t dare think it meant that Hook saw her as anything other than an outlet for his desires, and that of his own lofty and merciless ambitions. She was a pawn and his plaything, her body just one part of what Hook had been after from the start of this nightmare. Acting entitled to it, to HER, Hook not only making it clear what he had been after of her, but acting as if it was his God given right to get it.

He had even been so far gone as to think she’d be grateful, as though expecting her to have gladly thrown herself into his arms. As though she would happily prostitute herself for a rescue that she hadn’t even ask for, a rescue that was selfishly motivated by his own greed and nature. She was still telling herself that this was all part of a grander scheme, the pirate intent on bankrupting her kingdom. It was too inconceivable to imagine otherwise, too unsettling, too CRAZY a thing to risk his life and his crew on just for the slim chance of simply fucking her again.

So she clung to her own delusions, angry though they made her, Belle in denial as to the depth of Hook’s obsession, and the lengths it had already driven him to. She refused it, and she refused him, the beauty having no desire in her to even pretend to be grateful. She couldn’t ,not even to spare herself a world of hurt at his hand, for with that rejection and distaste made abundantly clear, the pirate had then tried to take what he had wanted from her by force.

That had to have been, without question, one of the scariest moments ever in that of her young life. And that was saying something, considering hers, had been a life that had seen its fair share of terrors, everything from the towering ogres that had had plagued and terrorized her kingdom, to the Dark One’s frightening tantrums and that furious rage, to even that of Regina, the Evil Queen a mad menace who would have ultimately KILLED the princess, once her lack of value made itself truly known. Yet for all that, the loss of control that Hook had made her feel, her choices that he had taken from her, and that of the feelings he had so cruelly discarded, had proven a million times worse than anything---anyone that had come before him.

Worse than the Queen at her most murderous, the ogres at their most brutal, and that of Rumplestiltskin’s own brand of devastating cruelty, Hook was at first seemingly far too predictable a man until he was not, Belle wondering if he wasn’t a tad touched in the head. Maybe more than just a little, the man surely insane! That or a fool, pitting himself to be an enemy of the Evil Queen, for a pay off that wouldn’t amount to all that much. Did he not know that her kingdom was a poor one, ruined and ransacked as it had been by those monsters? Or that they had little in the way of resources, and even less in gold, Avonlea simply too poor to pay the kind of ransom amount that would be worth all the trouble that they had been plunged into? There was no real profit to be made, off of Belle or off of her kingdom, Hook and his crew woefully misguided on the value that they had placed on her. For even if her father were willing to try and pay such a ransom, it would bankrupt the entire kingdom, and it would still not be enough. Avonlea then left beyond ruined, Belle and her father, the King, hated.

She couldn’t bear it. Not their hate, and not their pity, Belle no more willing to be the tool with which led to Avonlea’s downfall at Hook’s hands, than she had been at Rumplestitlskin’s. She was desperate to avoid it, to see her people saved, yet Belle had nothing in which to bargain for. Nothing with which to make another deal, that and the inability to make this pirate understand that there was no value in her, this ransom plan nowhere near worth the trouble it had already caused him and his crew. Belle was in fact an existence who had deemed herself without value, so useless a person that she already knew that just like the Evil Queen would have one day soon realized her folly, the pirates would too. They wouldn’t be able to get rid of Belle fast enough, Hook giving her the boot just like the Dark One had.

The tears that were ever present in her eyes, began to burn hotter, Rumplestiltskin’s face twisted in that awful moment of his rage, called to mind. He had been so close to throttling her with his bare hands, and had even gone so far as to bodily throw her past his castle’s front gate. He had been beyond furious, so livid and so creatively cruel, each word spoken meant to crush the woman, and bring her love to break apart . To do more than just break but to wither and die a painful and slow death, Belle cursed to know that it had been all a one sided love. That of a foolish infatuation, the young woman utterly gutted to the core to know that it had all been in her head, no real love or feeling in him There had been nothing, nothing between them for there to be anything past that of a beauty and a beast, that master and slave relationship, Belle part of a deal, a payment that had outlived its usefulness to him. Thoroughly crushed by his heavy handed spite, his words and those realizations had left only heart break behind. That part of her had split in half with a bitterness that Belle might never get over.

All of her feelings of worthlessness, had been born of that rejection. From that malevolent outrage, her innocent love spat upon. She would never be able to understand why he would value his power more than her, but the damage had been done regardless, the power of her love, her feelings severed so entirely, that there was no way that her kiss would hold true love effect on him. On him or on anyone else, Belle’s life having spiraled so entirely into chaos, prison after prison changing again and again, Rumplestiltskin, the Evil Queen, and now the pirate, each one tormenting her in their own way. Each a brand of trouble that seemed worst than the last, Belle tortured and feeling like it would never, ever truly end without her ending up dead. Caught in one power struggle after another, and torturing herself over her own perceived lack of worth, Belle wasn’t in any way thinking clearly. She hadn’t been for a long time now, and maintaining that heightened state of panic at the pirate’s hand hadn’t helped. It had led to a bone weary exhaustion, Belle not just tired physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. If not for her present fear, that of the pirate’s continued menace and what she expected him to still do, Belle would have literally dropped, collapsing into a dead faint after all she had been through.

Her soul itself tired, her emotions running the wild gamut of the spectrum, Belle didn’t even have it left in her to start screaming. At best she could only just manage a gasp, the pirate having drawn near once more. She’d flinch, her body outright recoiling from the look in his eyes, the blue of them made even stormier with his displeasure. Yet for all that tumultuous feeling that was in his expression, his hand was gentle as Hook went and cupped her cheek. His fingers felt along the wet skin there, his thumb tracing the rough path of her tears. That smoldering heat in him had simmered to a cooler degree, his expression turning inwardly harsh and unforgiving.

"Bloody hell." He then spat out loud, and abruptly the pirate was gone. The bed groaned in relief as the pirate's weight left it, Belle in a state of complete shock even after Hook had stormed out of the room. For the longest stretch of time, that stunned state of disbelief would steal even her ability to think, Belle unable to process what had just happened. She might have even fainted for a time, Belle numb to even that level of self awareness.

She wouldn't even know how much time had actually passed, before Belle abruptly launched herself off of the pirate's bed. Her actions automatic, Belle scrubbing at her face, and pulling at that too short tunic that had passed for the Evil Queens idea of prison garb. It kept riding up on her thighs, despite her fingers best attempt to control it, flashing far too much of her bottom with every little bit of movement. That would not do, Belle snatching a sheet off the bed, wrapping it thoroughly around her body, so that she was covered from neck to toe.

It wasn't much, but the sheet did go a long way towards making Belle feel marginally better. She felt shielded, as ridiculous a thought as that actually was, because Belle also knew the sheet wouldn't make one bit of difference in protecting her from the pirate's lust. But she liked the lie of it, the sense of control that it gave her, the sheet so warm and different from the skimpy clothing the Evil Queen had forced on Belle these past few weeks.

She shivered then, the prickling unease having nothing to do with the room’s temperature and everything to do with what had happened to her. The heart break and the tortures, the imprisonments, and the loss of any real choice. Anything and everything, and Belle didn't even know how much time she had lost! It felt like it had been an entire year that she had spent inside that tower, with no windows or way to know just how much time had truly passed. It had been an agony all its own, that small eternity of not knowing, and it wasn't just time that she had lost, but the simpler luxuries of freedom. Fresh air to breathe, the sun’s warnth to feel, and the beauty of the sky to see, and even that of the voices to hear. Belle closed her eyes for several seconds, breathing, living, just taking in the whole experience.

She’d inhale deep of the fresh air, its scent so wonderful and flavored with the salt of the sea. That same sea made the weather here cold, a chill permeating even inside the cabin. Belle shivered and delighted in even this, because it had always been a hot, stifling air that had cycled through her tower prison. A stale air, so recycled and suffocating, Belle opening her eyes and gravitating towards the cabin's round window and the source of her pleasure. She made no move to open it, just staring with a sense of awe and wonder at the sight before her, that of the sea that stretched on for miles ahead of her and that of the sun that was working even now to gentle the worst of the weather’s coldest wind, its bright brilliance lighting up a canvas that was made of both the open sky and the waters below it.

It was also more colors than Belle had been privileged to see in a long, long time, her tower prison having been a room of drab grays. The sky that she saw now was all manner of blue, with even faint lavender and that of the purest of white Belle had ever seen in a cloud. The sea below it wasn't a true blue, instead a sea green mix that sparkled with foam made white from the sun. Those waters rose in small waves that crested against the wooden hull of the ship, that sound a gentle, persistent slap that was a magic melody all its own. A gull's voice cawed from up high, Belle unable to see the sea bird from the window's vantage. She also couldn't see those responsible for the many other sounds that she was hearing, the people who shouted and laughed in a good natured manner, barking out orders, and working the ship to move.

It was a more joyful sound than she had been exposed to in God only knows how long, and it was wonderful. For the moment it didn't matter that these people were pirates, that they would hurt rather than help her. Belle reveled in the sound of their chatter, pretending she was elsewhere, somewhere safe and with friends.

She couldn't maintain the illusion forever, Belle turning away from the window with a put upon sigh. It still came out shaky, even though the worst of her tears had long since dried. Her fears still remained, Belle giving a positively venomous glare to the bed. And a just as uncharitable a thought to the man who that bed belonged to. But she didn't really want to think about Hook, not when remembering set her off trembling, the memory of the heat of his kisses and what he had tried to do, a sour note in her head that left her heart hurting badly.

Worse yet was those awful assumptions, that damn gratitude that Hook had expected of her. Belle felt a mix of anger and disbelief, scoffing at the thought that she would ever willingly do THAT with him again. Even if he hadn't hurt her that first time, even if he hadn't been so cruel and single minded in his own lust’s pursuit of its satisfaction. Even if he had made the sex as wonderful as the kissing had been, Belle wouldn't have laid with him a second time. Not when she told herself that he had only rescued her for his own sinister ambitions, intending to ransom her off and bankrupt her kingdom in the process. That was an insult she could not--would not take lightly, Belle as always ready and willing to protect her people from whatever threat that they might face. Be they the ogres or that of these pirates!

Cultivating a self righteous anger on her people’s behalf, Belle used the pain of it to fuel something other than her self pity and tears. It brought her no step closer to knowing how to stop Hook, but it also kept her from giving over to the hysterics. For this furious temper was effective when it came to what passed for her coping mechanism, the helplessness that Belle felt, a rage that had been steadily built on and perfected while in the Evil Queen’s merciless care. If it had a physical form and force to it, such an anger would have toppled even mountains.

With that anger moving her, it and her resentments and the many disappointments, Belle began to truly explore the inside of the cabin. It was a lot larger than the cell she had spent so much time in, this new cage that of an overly spacious room that befitted the captain of a ship as big and magnificent as the Jolly Roger had looked to be. It was also extravagant in design, Hook a man of expensive tastes when it came to his furniture and possessions. Fine mahogany wood, brand new leather bound books, rugs woven of the softest materials. Gold and silver coins spilled out in a careless fashion across a wide desk. Quills made of the feathers of the most exotic of birds, and the fresh ink to dip them in. Brightly colored jewels, rubies the size of her fist, diamonds bigger than she had known was possible. And all of it spoke of how ruthless a thief the pirate could be.

Convinced he didn't give a damn about anything but his own wealth and adding to it, Belle felt the fire of her anger build at the thought of Hook bankrupting her kingdom to keep on funding his expensive tastes and lifestyle. She was almost too angry to focus, Belle walking around, rifling through some of his things with the intent to find yet another weapon of some kind. It would still be absolutely useless in her hands, Belle unable to bring herself to actually kill anyone, but the illusion of protection it would give her would go a long way towards comforting the young woman greatly.

She then found herself kneeling before one of several other chests, Belle discovering that the lid opened up easily enough. There was only more gold and jewels inside it, so she moved on to the next one. It looked familiar for some reason, Belle prying the wood open, and reaching to pull aside the fabric that lay there in neatly folded piles. The woman didn't at first understand what it was that she was seeing, Belle ignoring the clothing, to dig deeper into the chest. The beauty stopped up short when she came across a familiar book, Belle certain that it was just a coincidence that the pirate had a copy of her favorite bedtime story. That certainty began to slip, when she noticed the book was as a worn as that of her own, its cover sewn back into place by a familiar and thick black thread. Its worn state didn't fit in with the new and well cared for books that she had seen among the rest of Hook’s things, Belle opening the book, and caressing shaking fingertips over the inscription inside.

It was addressed to Belle, with the loving words written by a mother long since dead and buried. That had her leaping galvanized into action, Belle actually looking at the clothing that she had set aside. Her hands shook harder with the realization that they were hers, all the pretty dresses and petticoats that she had forced herself to buy after Rumplestiltskin had tossed her out of his life. She didn't understand why the dresses were here, even the torn blue one, and Belle could admit that she wasn't sure she wanted to actually know. She began pawing frantically through the chest and the ones next to it. Finding more of her books and belongings, from her hairbrush and ribbons, to the perfumes and oils that she had favored. Everything was there, not a thing missing from the inn, the pirate having taken exacting care to collect each and every one of her belongings.

It was yet another inkling that gave Belle the hint that maybe something more was going on. That maybe the pirate had intended more than just to bankrupt her kingdom. But her mind wouldn't let her settle on what that other intention could be, Belle refusing to so much as consider that Hook had gone through so much trouble and risk just to have her again. It was simply a level of creepy she didn't want to dwell on, Belle disturbed enough by Hook and his lusts when it seemed just a matter of chance proximity.

She began repacking the chests, though she kept one of the dresses out. With the sheet still wrapped around her, Belle went to the door. To her surprise it wasn't locked, but then the bitter understanding filled her. Hook hadn't left the door unlocked because he trusted her, but because there was simply nowhere for her to go. She was on a ship full of blood thirsty, sex hungry pirates, and that alone would keep her in place, effectively trapped for the time being.

With a scowl that couldn't hide the hopeless and frustrated look in her eyes, Belle retreated to the cabin's private bathroom. This door was one that she made sure to lock, then quickly dropped the sheet. With a speed that impressed even her, Belle quickly got into and laced up the ribbons of a white and pale lavender dress. The skirts had a spring to them, the petticoat's ruffles filling them out nicely. It had a modest cut for a bodice, but even that little flesh on display seemed like too much. Belle quickly pulled the bed sheet back around her, covering up fully before she would leave the bathroom. She left the tunic from the tower on the floor, Belle never wanting to see that dark blue garment again. It wasn't the only thing that she never wanted to see again, Belle remembering the sinister blue of the pirate's eyes. She shivered and clutched harder at the sheet, remembering the heat, the raw desire, the hungry, predatory look that had focused unwavering on her. It was a look that she never wanted to be subjected to again, and yet it was a look that Belle knew she would have to endure time and time again, the pirate too fixated on lusting after her. With that focused intensity that desired to do more than just look, Belle not knowing if her tears would work a second time to damper the worst of his ardor. It was a bridge she knew that she would have to cross and soon, Belle fearing Hook and what he would do to her in the time that it took them to finally reach her kingdom. For now though, there was nothing she could truly do but take a seat by the window and wait. And hope that her unsettled, hurting heart didn't burst from the fright.

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To Be Continued....

8/31/2021 Updated, seems a lot of the first half of these chapters tend to be what gets written. So big chunks there, with some minor tweaking in the latter half.

----Michelle

#once upon a time #ouat #fanfic #fanfiction #killian x belle #belle #captain hook #KillianJones #captain beauty #Captainbeauty #The Broken Hearted Comfort #Dubious consent themes #smut #romance #season 2 cannon divergence

[elderbwrry]

Even if he doesn't say so

A little darkgingerpilot Witcher AU I discussed months ago with @cleversturmhond I have no concept of how time passes anymore

Summary: The Witcher meets a bard, the bard meets a mage, and they travel the continent. Kylo knows what he feels, but he can't seem to act. Hux acts without talking about things. And Poe... well, what does Poe feel?

Tags: Witcher AU, Inspired by The Witcher, Slow Burn, if you count 13k as slow burn i guess, within the story its slow burn, fantasy medieval setting, Self-Indulgent, Mage Hux, witcher kylo, Bard Poe, scenic, They're oblivious, sex references, Yearning, i guess, im slapping a mature on it for sex references and some minor violence but honestly ehhh idk, darkgingerpilot

Chapter 1/2/3/?, wordcount 5012

also on Ao3

Whenever someone asked Kylo, he always said he preferred to keep to himself and the company of Silence, his horse and his best companion for the very fact of her name; she didn't talk, she didn't disturb the meditative quiet of his lonely rides, and, most importantly, he wasn't unsure how to curry her favour. An apple would do it. His current companions, on the other hand...

For some gods-forsaken reason, Poe and Hux were quarrelling about a composer who had been dead for over a century. When the three of them had first started travelling together years ago, and in the short time since they'd reunited, such discussion had been endearing; both of them were opinionated about certain things, and their conversations often turned into little debates over whatever topic arose while they were travelling. This was one of those occasions, Kylo enjoying listening to their thoughts and voices filling up the worn country roads. A throwaway comment had become interesting; Kylo didn't actually know much about this particular composer, whereas Hux and Poe both did, and, though Kylo didn't often contribute to these discussions in any great detail since the other two were both so much better with words, he did like to learn something new occasionally. But now, several hours into their journey and still on the same subject, it was just getting fucking annoying.

“I literally studied her work. You can't just turn around and say she wasn't revolutionary,” Poe objected, trotting along between Silence and Hux's own horse on the wide bridleway, looking up at Hux indignantly.

Poe's lowered position made it seem slightly laughable when Hux looked down at him and countered, “Since I actually met the woman, I think you'll find I can,” before prompting his horse to walk on ahead of them.

Poe picked up his pace a little and continued the argument, making some musical point Kylo didn't understand either. He tried to tune them out a bit as he let Silence drop back a short distance behind the them.

Considering how much time the three of them spent around each other in recent years, Kylo supposed he should be glad disagreements as lengthy as these were relatively few. And, certainly, they were fewer even than when it had only been Kylo and Poe on the path together.

[break]

Kylo had met Poe many years ago – at least a decade, if he thought about it – when he'd been compelled by his work to go through the city he'd been born in. Not only was the place particularly unfriendly to Witchers, but also had relations of his – distant now, yet he wanted to avoid them nonetheless – in positions of authority. Kylo had used a fake name, a low hood to hide his eyes, his scar, and stuck to the dingiest taverns, but a curly-haired, high-born young man had recognised him anyway, sitting himself down confidently at Kylo's corner table, offering his name, and saying, “I know you. You're that famous Witcher.”

Kylo had eyed his unwelcome acquaintance – Poewas what he introduced himself as – guessing that he couldn't yet be twenty summers old. Of course, Kylo was no good with ages – his own longevity had corroded his sense for them until everyone seemed either old or young in confusing measures – but Poe's next request had practically confirmed his suspicion.

“Would you let me come with you?” Poe had asked the second the bar-wench had placed down Kylo's ale.

“Come with me where?” Kylo grunted. He wasn't in the mood to bodyguard some noble, out for the first time in a world without castle walls.

“Well, where are you going?” Poe's eyes had glinted as he offered Kylo a charming smile.

Kylo had appraised him again, taking in his youth, his rich clothes, his courage, and summarily said, “No.”

Poe's smile didn't drop, even though Kylo could see his only half-amused chuckle for the frustration it was. “Come on, I just wanna see a bit of the world. Get away from my guardian's expectations.”

“The Queen?” Kylo had asked, an imprudently displayed gold ring on the youth's finger catching the light.

Poe had shrugged a yes.

It only made Kylo refuse all the more. The Queen was one of the people Kylo was known to by unfortunate fact of his heritage, someone he never wanted to anger, in case of her having some cause to meet with him personally. Poe, while not her blood family, would surely be missed, as her ward, were he to make off with a Witcher, especially with the one so primarily known for the massacre at Crait.

Poe's gaze went steely at Kylo's final dismissal, and he'd left the tavern quickly after that. It couldn't have been two years later when Kylo encountered the young man again, fine doublet swapped for something a little more incognito in orange and brown tones, a lute slung over his back and all the more determination to see everything.

Kylo hadn't refused him a second time, and he wouldn't have been able to, since Poe no longer had any qualms about following him uninvited. Thus, he had a new travelling companion.

Just as he suspected, Poe was a liability in some aspects of the job where monsters were concerned, but Poe had also dragged him, limping, back to camp before, bandaged his wounds, fetched his potions. His life had undeniably turned for the better with the bard around; Poe was a talented musician, it turned out, and the extra income and incentive to stay at inns meant Kylo was now more acquainted with feather pillows than he'd ever hoped to be. The positive company had made Kylo better as well, at talking to people, at putting up with them, at giving life nuance. His path was lighter with Poe on it.

They became comfortable around each other. They began to argue, about the silly things people who know each other well and cared for each other deeply argue about, about which direction to head in, which inn to stop at, about the jacket Kylo had left to get trampled by the last monster he'd fought. Barely a day went by without some kind of silly quibble to that effect, but it never truly changed the form of their relationship.

Then, they'd met Hux.

[break]

Kylo had been around long enough that he'd thought he'd heard of most of the other powerful, non-mortal beings on the continent, so randomly running into an evidently strong mage like Hux, who he'd never heard of, was a bit surprising. Kylo had been employed to go and rid a keep up on the hill of whatever it was that was plaguing it. He was expecting to take a while to figure it out, but when he arrived, the malevolent spirits were revealed easily by the mage already locked in battle with them.

The fight the man was putting up was impressive, given the sheer number of foes. He was spewing fire everywhere, manipulating the elements to his will, his bright hair and swan-white robe whipped around by the wind he was creating, but eventually Kylo could see he was losing, and so joined him in the fight. It was fortuitous that they were both there, as Kylo certainly couldn't have defeated them all on his own either. When the last spirit was destroyed, however, Hux had spun round, announced that he had decidedly notrequired the help of some filthy Witcher, and flounced off. He'd gotten about ten paces when he collapsed from the sheer exertion of having used his magic in such a manner.

So Kylo had carried the mage back to camp and laid him down on his bedroll to recuperate.

Poe was travelling with Kylo at that time, and, though he was surprised to see Hux, he seemed very glad to see Kylo back from the fight, juiced up on potions but otherwise unharmed. His smile had made Kylo's heart do something he didn't really understand, the same thing it did when Poe met his gaze during a performance at whatever tavern they were staying at, the same when Kylo said something complimentary to him. Indeed, it was becoming more and more of a common feeling, and Kylo was finding that he rather liked it.

When Kylo suggested he should probably go find a rabbit or something for dinner, Poe seemed happy enough to watch over the mage until he returned, and Kylo had picked his way into the forest they were camping on the edge of with his head full of thoughts of Poe. His distraction had meant he took longer than usual to catch something, and when he got back, it was to find Poe backed against a tree, Hux threatening him using a dagger Kylo hadn't realised he'd had on him.

“Kylo!” Poe had shouted when he saw him – and again, the weird thing Kylo's heart did around Poe – equal parts relieved and pissed off.

Hux relaxed only slightly at knowing whose camp it was he had been brought to, and, once Kylo had convinced him to lower the weapon, he protested strongly that he didn't want anyone's help or charity, and that he was offended to have been carried around like some damsel. Poe told him he was very welcome to fuck off, but it soon became clear that Hux wasn't in any shape to be going off on his own, so he stayed with them that night.

Kylo was settling in to sleep on the opposite side of the fire to Hux when Poe dumped his bedroll down next to him, closer than usual – cue the weird heart thing again – and lay down. All Kylo had managed to ask was, “What are you doing?”

Huffing, Poe leaned up to peer over Kylo's arm at where Hux was lying, turned away from them on the far side of their little camp. “He tried to kill me today. I don't wanna wake up with my throat cut for some magey shit.”

Kylo considered pointing out that Poe wouldn't wake up at all if his throat had been slit, but he was more struck by the implication that Poe was trusting him to protect him. Usually, people were more likely to fear that Kylo would be the one killing them after whatever monster he'd been hired to dispatch, but Poe was different, and always had been, really. He insisted that Kylo had good in him, that he wasn't all the darkness that Witchers were supposed to be. He wasn't entirely right, of course, but it was nice to have someone hope in him.

So instead of making the bard move away, all Kylo had said was, “You'll get cold, so far from the fire,” and offered Poe an extra side of his own blanket.

One night of Hux staying with them turned into two, into three, into a week's travel to the neighbouring city. In fact, Kylo was almost sad to see the severe mage leave, as it meant he and Poe went back to their usual sleeping arrangements, instead of curling up together with Kylo as his shield.

[break]

Months later, to Kylo's surprise, Hux sought him out. He was after a gem of something something and he needed hired muscle that he could trust would actually get the job done. Hux had found them by the coast, and the first thing he said as he took Poe in was, “You're still travelling with him, are you?” Kylo wasn't sure whether the question was meant for him or Poe, but they'd both answered definitively.

The month and a half of travel it took to reach the mountain cave system in which the gem was kept saw Poe and Hux grow accustomed to each other, if not strictly friendly. Poe didn't resume his habit of sleeping next to Kylo, Hux didn't try to kill Poe again, and eventually they stopped speaking to each other in jibes and barbs.

Hux and Kylo also ended up bonding; they would sit together in taverns while Poe was performing and talk, about things that they remembered from when they were young, things Poe had learned only from his history professors. It was nice to have someone who related, who had experienced similar things to him, who understood what it was to be not-quite human and tied to a duty they didn't quite want. Hux had been raised in magic, it turned out, and, as they talked, Kylo realised it wasn't so different to being raised into killing as he had been. The small, commiserating smiles Hux offered struck Kylo deeply, and one day he realised that Hux, bathed in the yellow, glowing tavern light, was beautiful.

When they reached the cave systems that were their destination, Poe had to stay in the local town while Hux and Kylo went in search of the gem, since the place was too unknown and dangerous to risk him coming. And it did turn out to be dangerous; Hux and Kylo each saved each others' life a few times, had several close calls, and, once all the stress and danger of the adventure had turned into the satisfaction of success, they translated that pent-up tension into a vigorous fuck on the way out.

“I don't know why you keep him around,” Hux commented as they trudged back to the town to meet Poe, gem firmly in his grasp. “He can't help you with your work like I could.”

Kylo supposed that was true. “He helps me be better,” Kylo replied, which was also true.

Hux made a derisive sound. “Does he, now.”

Kylo shook his head at Hux's tone. “Why don't you like him? You have plenty in common.”

“It's not that I don't like him,” Hux said, tossing his head to get a strand of hair which had slipped in front of his eyes out of the way. Considering Kylo was grimy and dishevelled from the fighting, Hux's deep crimson tunic still looked remarkably put together, and it gave him a haughty air as he said, “I know his type. I've served them in courts all over the continent for centuries. They think they're entitled to everything without working for it and without thanking the people who actually make it possible. He's just another ungrateful, mortal noble.”

Kylo thought about what he said for a good minute. “You're wrong,” he said.

[break]

Back at the inn, Poe had the entire town in the palm of his hand thanks to his songs. He looked charming as ever, flashing smiles to all the ladies who were fawning over him, but Kylo was happy to see that, when Poe spotted them enter, his smile softened and a new light entered his eyes. This time, the flip in Kylo's heart felt more natural than ever.

When Kylo emerged from the bathhouse, Poe was already waiting in his room for a full account of the adventure so he could turn it into his latest ballad. Kylo related what happened as he usually did, keeping to the bare facts and trusting Poe to make them into pretty wordplay later, until he got to the end, at which point he decided that Poe didn't strictly need to know that Hux had pushed him up against the wall of the cave and kissed him with a ferocity he wasn't likely to forget any time soon.

But Poe noticed the brief hesitation and looked up from his little book where he'd been scribbling notes. “What?” he asked.

Kylo shrugged. “Nothing. We left to come back here,” he said, pulling the shirt he was wearing off and reaching for a different one.

“Did something bite you?”

Kylo could hear the frown in Poe's voice, and he turned back to see Poe's eyes locked on a slightly bruised, reddish ring low on his neck. A vague recollection surfaced in Kylo's mind of Hux tugging down his collar, once his outer layer of armour was off, and digging his teeth hard into the flesh over that spot. He hummed, reaching up to rub at it and thus hide it from Poe's sight. “Must have.”

Poe stood up and approached, batting Kylo's hand out of the way, which he couldn't find the motivation to resist. When Poe ran his thumb over the bruise, he was so warm Kylo pushed into the touch. If Poe noticed, he didn't comment, his brow was deeply furrowed. “What kind of monster even has teeth like that?”

A knock came on the door. “Kylo,” Hux called from outside, “we need to talk about payment.”

“I'm...” Kylo hesitated, feeling strangely and suddenly like he'd betrayed Poe. “I'm coming.”

Kylo wasn't sure what about him looked guilty, but Poe seemed to realise at that moment where the mark came from. “Oh,” he said, stepping away and back to his book.

Not long after that, Poe announced his intention to head back to his home kingdom. Kylo's mouth went dry. It was Hux who had to ask the platitudes – did he have some business to attend to? How long did he think he would stay? - which Poe replied to blandly, something about responsibility to his mentors. Kylo wanted to ask him to stop, to stay, but all he managed to get out was, “I'll miss you.”

[break]

Time passed.

Poe left for home, taking his light and song with him.

Kylo spent one winter with Hux, back in the keep where they'd first met, which Hux had appropriated for himself, but it was all wrong; there was a grounding influence missing, without which the two of them spent more time treating each other angrily than well. The sex was amazing, but eventually, it felt hollow. The day it became clear that the harshest weather had blown over, Kylo was back on Silence, looking for the next contract out on a monster, something he could hack into pieces without thinking.

The seasons changed, fled and returned until it had been another year. Kylo was firmly back in the blank swing of contract, monster, payment, move along, but the campfire felt lonely after dark, when he had nothing to occupy his mind. He started talking to Silence; she never replied.

Sometimes, Kylo found himself wondering how long it would be until he ran into Hux again, and if he would even want to see him. Maybe he could make the way they left things up to him. They'd had something, after all, and, though it hadn't been perfect, he missed that feeling of love and understanding and protection which Hux provided. Kylo didn't hold out much hope of seeing Poe; he never went near his home city, and why would Poe venture out again? He'd seen his share of the world. He was back in his real life, now.

But eventually, those nights of wondering wore Kylo down, and, quite without intending to, he found himself directing Silence down the path to the kingdoms neighbouring Poe's.

There, Kylo found himself invited to the royal tourney of Queen Phasma, as a guest of honour. She was a renowned warrior, and Kylo reasoned that it would be rude to decline the request of such an esteemed ruler. He reasoned that perhaps she would even have some work for him. He reasoned a lot of things, in his attempt to deny to himself that the real reason was hope that a tourney would be more than enough cause for a neighbouring noble to be in the area, or even just a bard...

The festivities were festivities. It was strange, to watch others fight instead of having to do it himself, and for performance rather than necessity. Though sometimes the rush of people grated on him, Phasma was a gracious host and Kylo enjoyed the good food well enough, always keeping an eye out for some shock of red hair, or those cheerful, dark curls he so hoped for.

His vigilance yielded one of those prizes.

A tall, beautiful, severe looking man entered the great hall one evening for the feast, walking directly up to the main table at which Phasma and Kylo were seated, and didn't even falter when he recognised Kylo's distinctive scar, yellow eyes, dark garb.

“Hux!” Phasma exclaimed standing and marching around the table to pull the man into a hug, which he returned with surprising readiness, “My dear friend, it has been too long!”

Hux gave a half-bow. “I'm sorry I'm late, I was caught up with business.”

“Ah, yes, business,” Phasma said knowingly, “and where is Lord Dameron?”

Hux's eyes flitted over to Kylo's for the briefest of seconds. “Altogether too caught up with his teaching to bother with a tournament, I'm afraid.”

“Well you must tell him I want him at the next one.” With that, she made to retake her seat again, gesturing at Kylo. “Kylo, this is Hux, currently an advisor to court in the neighbouring kingdom and the most talented mage in all the continent. Hux, Kylo, the Witcher.”

“Yes, we've met,” Hux understated, settling his gaze on Kylo fully, now, and extending his hand to Kylo over the table. Not sure what he was expected to do, Kylo gave Hux his hand, and Hux took it, raising it to his lips and kissing Kylo's knuckles.

Kylo wasn't entirely certain if he could blush any more, since the mutations which had turned him into a Witcher, but if he could, he was sure he was, what with so many people around to witness a display of affection which Kylo was unused to at the best of times. Along with that, relief, because it made him feel suddenly like all was forgiven without him having to wrangle the words around an apology.

“Hux, stop that and sit down!” Phasma reprimanded, “The players will begin soon.”

It was only as Hux sat down that Kylo realised the empty chair on his right had likely always been for Hux. No sooner had he settled than the players flooded the floor, dancing into their performance of an old, famous play, something about two supernatural kings vying for the affection of a mortal with all sorts of fanciful gifts.

“This version is better than the original,” Hux remarked a short while in, and Kylo hummed out an assent, though he had never seen it when it first was performed. He was probably too busy wading through drowner guts, or something similarly uncouth.

“So, you're in Poe's court, now?” Kylo asked instead. “Is he king?”

“No,” Hux remarked, picking up his goblet of wine and keeping his gaze on the players. “Nor does he want to be. The Queen has plenty of other worthy successors, and Poe would much rather go back to spending his days as a bard.” He tutted. “Even if he doesn't say so.”

“Why are you there?”

He sighed. “I wanted to see what you meant about him not being like the others, so I offered my services to the Queen.” Kylo hummed again, and this time, Hux turned to look at him. “You were quite right. He's different. I find myself rather taken with him.”

Kylo reached for his own wine now, his mouth suddenly dry. “Oh. Have you..?”

“No. Kylo...” Hux placed his cup down and leaned to the side so his shoulder was brushing Kylo's, even as Kylo was resolutely not looking at him. “He misses you. And I know you miss him.”

As if by design, the lutist started to play, and both their eyes went to the young woman performing in the corner. Kylo found himself thinking, perhaps uncharitably, that she wasn't as talented as Poe, her song wasn't as sweet.

Hux didn't fail to notice this. “I think we should travel together again,” he said.

“We?”

“You and I and Poe,” Hux said, as though it were obvious. “Like we did those few months travelling in from the coast. I've found myself thinking about them a lot.”

Kylo shrugged. “It was only a few months. Things have changed since then.”

“Which is why we should give it another try.” Kylo jolted in slight surprise when he felt Hux's cool hand lay over his own on the arm of the chair. He turned to find Hux looking directly into his eyes. “Stay here for a week after the tourney is over, and I'll have convinced him to come. Kylo.” A tacit command from Hux, as usual, instead of a request.

Kylo nodded.

[break]

So Kylo waited by the city gates, where Hux had sent a messenger bird that he should meet them. He was nervous, when he first spotted the black dot on the distant path that he was sure was them, shuffling from one foot to the other and gripping Silence's reins tight, like that would do anything. He was wondering how he should greet Poe; hello, certainly, and he didn't think he'd be able to stop himself from smiling, but he found that he also wanted to give him a hug, press their lips together, feel that he was really thereagain, after the nearly two years they'd spent apart.

It turned out he needn't have worried, since Poe sprang forward and clasped him into a hug without prompting, talking immediately about where they would be going and how good it would be to be back on the road.

Hux had merely given him a look that said I told you so, and followed after the excitable bard.

That had been nearly two weeks ago.

It turned out that Hux was entirely right; things were different than before, and they were better. The things that had changed were these:

Hux had brought a horse with him, this time, and several other magical items, such as a tent which was far larger inside than it appeared. Poe hadn't bothered with a horse, since he hadn't needed one before, and had thus left the money with which to pay for its upkeep back at home, planning instead to sing for his money like he used to. Kylo rather liked this; it reminded him of old times, when he steadfastly refused to let Poe ride Silence, in case it tired her out too much. The tent, on the other hand, felt annoyingly like Hux was living in style while the two of them were stuck outside, since Hux had never invited them in and Kylo, for one, wasn't about to invite himself.

It seemed Hux and Poe had also developed a much closer friendship, in the time Hux had spent at court. It made Kylo feel a little like he had missed out, like he had time to catch up on, like there was something impenetrable he couldn't access. Kylo supposed it must be similar for Hux, since he and Poe had known each other for so long before he met them, and again for Poe, given that winter when it was only him and Hux, but times like these – Poe and Hux discussing something so academic that Kylo knew so little about – could be daunting as much as interesting.

Mostly, Kylo felt like he still had to make something up to Poe, and he wasn't sure how to do it. He should probably just have a conversation with him about it, but the words never came, and bringing it up when nobody was thinking about it would, he was sure, just sour the mood. And if he just left it, the tension would have to break eventually.

[break]

Ahead of him on the road, Hux and Poe's little argument seemed to have reached a peak point. Kylo had been too lost in his thoughts to pay attention to what they were saying, but now Poe had stopped walking, raising open arms in that way of his that was almost defeated, but actually said he still thought he was right. It was very cute, like he was a turtle with a lute for a shell, and Kylo couldn't help but think his annoyed expression was charming as well.

When Silence reached the spot where Poe was standing, watching Hux ride on with his usual haughty confidence, Kylo hummed. “Did he win?”

Poe huffed, moving again to keep up with Silence's ambling pace. “No, but he's acting like he did. He always thinks he's right.”

Kylo thought about it for a beat; Hux did indeed always think that he was right. It was one of the things that had caused friction in their attempt at a relationship that one winter. It wasn't that all three of them couldn't be stubborn, more that Kylo and Poe had much more ability to hold out against each other's pestering than either of them seemed to have against Hux. One narrowing twitch of those steely-grey eyes, and anyone with even half a sense of self-preservation would surrender. So Kylo could sympathise with Poe's little pout.

They came to the edge of the forest, the village where they planned to stop a short way before them across a few fields. Kylo drew Silence to a halt and put out a hand to Poe, who looked at it first with surprise and then joy. He quickly allowed Kylo to help him up, settling just behind the Witcher, his chest pressed to his back, their thighs brushing against each other with every movement. Kylo could feel it all, and he tried not to let his stomach flip too much when Poe's arms snaked around his sides, hands locking at his front. He cursed inwardly that today he'd chosen to forgo some layers in favour of his cooler shirt.

But then Poe was saying to him over his shoulder – though it felt more like murmuring in his ear - “Come on, I wanna see Hux's face.”

Kylo prodded Silence to walk on, closing the distance on Hux. As they passed, Kylo felt Poe remove one hand to wave at the mage. Looking around, it was in almost slow motion that Hux's expression went from one of mild astonishment to annoyance to jealousy.

“See you there, Hugs!” Poe said, and Kylo smiled to himself.

#darkgingerpilot #armitage hux #poe dameron #kylo ren #kylo/hux/poe #kylux #darkpilot #gingerpilot #my writing #fanfiction #witcher au #fantasy medieval au #even if he doesn't say so

[heungtanbts]

Quarter Life Crisis

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/warning: slow burn friends to lovers!au, friend zoning, being dense AF, swearing & sarcastic bantering, a smidge of angst, explicit implications of smut

word count: 25k 

A/N: guys. i’ve never written something this long and in depth before and i honestly don’t know how to feel about it. but i do know i have a newfound respect for fic writers. i poured so much time and effort into this, and can only imagine what other writers go through so please remember to show your fave writers love for all their hard work! 

In the movies, the recently graduated, mid-twenties protagonist sets off on the journey of life and seems to immediately land a fantastic job, find a stellar unit in an even more luxurious apartment complex, gets a fancy car with a name that’s impossible to pronounce, is in a long term relationship from college and is going to receive a proposal within the next few months (but doesn’t know it yet), and basically, has life all figured out. If movies are going to portray young adult life like that, then that’s ideally what your twenties should be like, right? Being young, educated, ready to take on the world, further discovering yourself and finding true love.

This, however, is not what you imagined your mid-twenties to be like.

Sitting in a comfy pair of capri leggings and an oversized college t-shirt, you sink into your sofa and suck in a labored breath. You really shouldn’t have finished that last bit of Shanghai fried noodles. T’was a mistake, a horrible mistake. Rolling down the waistband of your leggings, your belly pops out, set free, and you finally feel like you can breathe again.

“Wow, you’re really packin’ heat there, huh Pillsbury?” A low voice calls mockingly from across the room.

“Shut up, I’m proud of my life achievements okay.” You immediately retaliate, not even bothering to look at the other potato potato-ing at the opposite end of the sofa.

You hear him snort incredulously. “Ah yes, because ‘he who achieves the pudge, achieves in life.’ Definitely heard Yoda say that one somewhere.”

Letting your head lull to the side, you can’t stop yourself from snickering at the sight of Jungkook sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, hands held up in OK signs, eyes shut and head bobbing from side to side ridiculously in what you deem to be an extremely inaccurate impersonation of Yoda. Why you continue to hang out with this dweeb and allow him to put his nasty feet up on your coffee table right after hitting the gym for two hours is beyond you. Must be because it’s Friday night, affectionately known as Fat Friday, and he’s always the one who brings take out, like it’s a peace offering of some sort. That’s why.

At this age you would’ve never imagined that life would consist of a weekly Fat Friday “take out and a movie” routine with your best friend from college. As a young adult, you know you’re fortunate to have a stable 8-5 job that you don’t hate, a clean and cozy apartment unit in the city (with in unit laundry machines, bless up) and a small group of friends that stand by you through thick and thin. But after spending so many days and years like this, you can’t help but question it all.

According to those damn rom-coms, you should be out going on adventures, mingling with new people, sipping on over-priced drinks, showing up to the club with your posse and, maybe if you’re lucky, waltzing out with a newly acquired friend for the night. But here you are instead, having a chopsticks war with Jungkook over the last crab rangoon Kung-fu Panda style, even though you’re so full, the delicious fried appetizer might just have to sit in your throat for a while until your digestive system can make room for it. Living in your twenties is wild, just absolutely wild.

“God, please don’t tell me you do this when you go on dates.” Jungkook looks at you in both disgust and awe as you pop the last crab rangoon in your mouth, chewing noisily on purpose to rub it in his face while simultaneously enjoying the crunch.

“What, eat?” A speck of crab escapes and lands on your chin. Now Jungkook definitely looks more grossed out than amazed as he reaches out to thumb at your chin, removing the bit of artificial seafood and making a face as he wipes it on a nearby napkin.

“No, this isn’t eating. This is straight up a clip from the Discovery Channel about predators swallowing their prey.” He deadpans. “It’s like you’re training to be a food fighter, or something.”

You suddenly look up, eyes beaming with enlightenment, “That’s it, a food fighter, of course! That’s what I should be pursuing in life! Jeon, for once, you and your one brain cell have managed to come up with a brilliant idea.”

Jungkook doesn’t even seem phased by your insult and just moves to make himself comfortable, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as per usual. “You know, I actually think you could do it. With the way you eat- no, inhale food, you could show the world your one and only talent – gluttony.” He grins victoriously only to have to whip his neck from side to side in order to avoid the used chopsticks you spear at him, the wooden sticks clattering onto the linoleum floor. You scowl openly from having missed, settling back onto the sofa with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I could start my own muk-bang stream.” You think aloud, seriously considering the occupation for a moment. “Look cute, eat ten packets of ramen, answer questions about my life from the millions of die-hard fans watching – I could totally live that life.”

Jungkook chuckles at the mental imagery he gets, “Yeah, and then majestically throw up for your two whole precious fans to witness. Real cute.” His lip quirks upwards, “Those two poor fans, scarred for life, never able to heal from the trauma.”

You glare at him. “Just wait until my boyfriend hears of this, he won’t stand for this kind of abuse you give me. Is this even friendship? Where’s the love? The support?” You clutch at your chest dramatically, “Where’s the camaraderie, best friend? Where’s the-” You’re so rudely cut off by a pillow to the face, thrown by none other than your so-called best friend.

“Puh-lease, Park SeoJoon is way out of your league. I said it. Sniff sniff, cry cry, get over it, babe.”

You frown, shaking a closed fist at him. “One day, Jeon, you’ll see. One day.” With a defeated sigh, you flop onto your back and throw your feet up onto Jungkook’s lap, ignoring the “ugh your feet smell” comment he makes and instead, focusing on the dreary white ceiling of your unit.

The both of you know it’s just harmless joking when you refer to Park SeoJoon as your boyfriend and whenever Jungkook makes fun of your eating habits and pudgy food babies. To strangers, the way you two interact may seem a bit harsh and pretty immature, but for the two of you, the playful insults and level of savagery are just right. It’s a relief that you can bicker and banter with him and know there are no hard feelings, that you two know each other well enough to know where the lines that should not be crossed are. But it hasn’t always been this way.

When you first met Jungkook freshman year of college, he was ridiculously shy, probably one of the most soft spoken and just plain awkward people you’d ever met. So much so that, being the decent, civilized human being you were, you felt completely obligated to be nice back, mostly because you were afraid he might cry if you accidentally looked him in the eye or something. He seemed so delicate, perpetually wide eyed and fearful, and for that reason, you felt a little more distant from him and closer with the other guys. You were able to freely throw around insults and make all the snarky jabs you wanted around them. Jungkook was just too quiet, and thus you were too nice to him. That is, until one day, your mutual friend Taehyung proposed the idea of having a Mario Kart tournament out of boredom, and somehow it ended up being just you and Jungkook in the final race. Spoiler alert – you beat Jungkook. Blue shelled him right at the finish line and cackled like a disney villain as you cut right in front and took first place. You’ll never forget that moment – it was the first time he ever swore at you. Actually, that was the first time you ever heard Jungkook swear period – ears red at the tips, cheating accusations and demands for a rematch flying around chaotically. But ever since then, that weird wall between you two came crashing down, and that is how your beautiful meme of a friendship came to be.

In the comfortable silence, some random Marvel movie on in the background, you glance over at your best friend, lips involuntarily curling up into a smile. You’re more than glad that those walls came down that day, that you were able to spend majority of your college days attached at the hip, that now, as annoying as he may be, Jungkook is still by your side to this day, eating greasy take-out with you and spending what should be a lively night out, at home instead, vegging out and pigging out. A very nice Friday evening in, with a blubbery food baby. And Park SeoJoon as your imaginary boyfriend. You suddenly groan at the thought and shove your face into the pillow Jungkook just threw at you. It’s been approximately three years since your last relationship, but for some reason it feels like it’s been so much longer than that. That relationship with your then college boyfriend ended shortly after graduation and you can’t believe that was truly the last time you dated someone. You remember spending two weeks ruining Jungkook’s shirts one by one with your snot and tears while hugging tubs of melting ice cream to your chest. Three. Whole. Years. Ago.

You let out another groan and it’s louder this time, even with the pillow muffling your mouth. You’re unable to control your train of thought as it travels to a more stressful place, ruining your once zen state of mind on this lovely Fat Friday evening. What are you even doing with your life? Or to put more accurately, what are you doing wrong with your life? Are you doing something wrong? It just feels like at this point, you should you be doing something more, chasing after your goals and dreams, or at least have some more adult characteristics to your life. While it’s very true that you already have so much to be thankful for, for some reason it just feels like you’re doing something wrong – or something’s just missing. Everyone else seems to have it all together, so why do you still feel like you’re ten steps behind?

You must’ve groaned a couple times more without even realizing it because moments later, the pillow is abruptly snatched away from your face, revealing a very puzzled Jungkook.

“What are you moaning and groaning about?” He asks, raising a brow before giving you a look of utter disbelief. “Is it because of what I said about Park SeoJoon? Woman, for the last time, you just gotta accept the fact that it’s not gonna happen and move on with your li-”

“Jungkook,” You interject, voice quieter than normal. “Am- am I just doing this all wrong?”  

Jungkook abruptly comes to a halt, his mouth still hanging open silently from when you cut him off. A slew of jokes and insults remains lodged in his throat as his chocolate eyes closely study your face. You can tell he’s internally debating on how seriously he should be taking your words. Like is this a “reply with another joke” kind of situation, or a “sit down, tell me what’s wrong” kind of conversation that’s about to happen? It feels like this is always how conversations are between the two of you, they can switch from childish insults to pondering the meaning of life in the blink of an eye. Luckily, Jungkook’s used to it by now – having sudden and unexpectedly deep conversations with you doesn’t terrify him anymore like it used to in the past.  

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook inquires, deciding it’d be best to tread carefully. He uncrosses his legs and places his feet on the floor, elbows resting on his knees in a much more serious posture.

Over time, he’s gotten so good at feeling you out and directing the conversation as needed, even though he used to have internal melt downs every time you would open up to him. He’s gotten so much better at having conversations period – he handles them like champ now.

“What are we doing Jeon?” The words come out as a deflated sigh, an accurate description of how you feel at the moment. “It’s Friday night and while people our age are spending way too much money getting drunk and having fun taking over the city, we’re upholding a Friday tradition that consists of eating pure oil and poking at our food babies.” Jungkook immediately glances down at his own stomach before meeting your eyes again.

“Uh, I don’t have a food baby so you’re kind of alone on that one.” Jungkook corrects you, rubbing his hand up and down against his flat stomach. You shoot him the deadliest glare you can conjure up. It’s not your fault your body was made to cling to blubber in order to have babies and produce life in this world.

“What, you wanna just go out then?” Jungkook suggests, ignoring the daggers you send his way. “We always have the option to go out and get drunk, you know. If that’s what you wanna do, let’s just call some people up and go then.” Giving the glare a rest, you shake your head, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish as you stare up at nothing, another sigh heavy on your chest.

“That’s not it, Jeon. I just- ugh, I don’t know.” You twist around and smack your fists and feet against the sofa cushion, like a child throwing a mini tantrum. “All I know is that I’m young, I’m single, with all the time in the world and yet here I am, living life like a retired grandma.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with being a retired grandma? That’s like the ultimate goal in life.” Jungkook tuts, leaning forward to grab his bazillionth fried egg roll of the night. That boy is an intergalactic blackhole when it comes to food, yet he never has a food baby, damn damn damn.

“When I was 18, I remember wanting to hurry up and grow up and be in my twenties already.” You reminisce, still focusing on the popcorn pattern decorating the ceiling, “I figured by the time I was 26, I’d have discovered my true passions while exploring my twenties, that I’d be married, settled down after having fully lived out my younger years, maybe on the way with a little one or two, I don’t know.” You bemoan. “I guess adulthood just isn’t what I expected it to be.”

“So what you’re saying is you want to get pregnant.” Jungkook’s smiles mischievously as he leans towards you, flashing you a wink, “That can be easily arranged.”

“Pervert,” You jokingly shove him away, and he just chuckles. “You know that’s not what I meant. Plus I’m not ready to have kids, could you even imagine it?” Your eyes widen comically in horror, “I can barely take care of myself – God knows if I’d be able to keep a tiny, fragile human being alive.” 

“True, those succulents you got for your birthday last year barely lasted two weeks,” Jungkook raises his cup to his lips, coughing under his breath before taking a sip, “even though they’re like the easiest plants to raise.”

“Please, rub more salt on my wound Jeon, I insist!”

Jungkook gives you a satisfied smirk before his demeanor morphs into something more serious, fingers rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” He muses, eyes flicking upwards to meet yours as he gives you one of his gentle, heartwarming smiles – the rare kind that comes out when he’s done joking and ready to comfort you.

“Think about it, you’ve pretty much met majority of the societal standards there are for being a young adult in this day and age. You’re educated, you have a job with a steady pay, got your own place, and you lead a pretty stable lifestyle.” He absentmindedly plays with the cup in his hands. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with still not knowing exactly what it is you want to do, or what next steps you want to take. Like so what if you’re single, lots of people are.” Jungkook shrugs. “Who even says that has to be the next step you take? I think it’s still okay that you are,” he looks down at his hands, expression soft, “that we are, still trying to figure things out, one day at a time, you know?”

You hum in agreement, Jungkook’s words bringing immediate comfort to your restless mind. He’s right. It’s not like you’ve made any grave mistakes or have some monumental life-or death issue to face. It’s not a sin to just do your own thing and not follow the “standard” steps of life people usually take. It’s just that the concept of it all, the topic itself, makes you feel like a baby – a very lost, disappointed, overgrown cry-baby because you don’t really feel put together or like you know what you’re doing. But like Jungkook said, that’s okay. It’s alright that you’re still trying to figure it all out, at your own pace – you’re slowly creating your own path.

“Since when did you get so wise, huh Jeon?” You smile, spirits lifted and already feeling a lot better than just a few minutes ago. Jungkook just always seems to know what to say to make you feel better.

He just shrugs with a jokingly cocky pout of his lips, “I’m the quarter life crisis guru, come to me with all your first world problems and you shall find enlightenment.” His words automatically make you punch him in the arm lightly and all you can afford is a weak insult muttered under your breath with a small smile on your lips.

If you were to have this conversation with anyone else besides Jungkook, you would probably die before admitting such embarrassingly trivial, quarter-life-crisis complaints. It hurts your pride, being an adult and having to admit you don’t really know what you’re doing with life. But because this is Jungkook, the insecurities of your heart come out so easily. No matter how much you joke around or annoy each other, he’s your closest and most trusted confidant. He’s actually a great listener – so honest yet gentle with his words (when he’s being serious, of course), and with him, figuring out life’s problems isn’t as daunting of a task. With him, conversations flow, anxiety is immediately blanketed over with a comforting peace, solutions are developed more smoothly, plans get put into action more proactively. He may still be salty every time he sees a blue shell and still gives you hell for it to this day, but if he was really that annoyed by you, he wouldn’t be sitting on your couch, listening to you complain and trying to help you figure out your life. That’s Jungkook for you – good old reliable Jungkook.

“Did someone say quarter life crisis?” You both whip your heads toward the door at the familiar voice that suddenly calls out of nowhere. “If it’s ___ we’re talking about, then she just needs to get laid. Problem solved.” That same voice lets out a yelp when a bunny slipper comes flying at his head.

“We have intruders.” You mutter as you look down at your one bare foot, the moment completely ruined. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you guys a spare key.”

“But you did, and it comes in handy in times like these.” Another voice, lighter and higher pitched than the first, pipes up. You allow your eyes to close, as if trying to take in the last bits of comfort from your conversation with Jungkook as jackets and bags are rustled around, the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to you.

“How long have you guys been standing there?” Jungkook questions the newly arrived guests.

“Long enough to know that ___ needs to get some.” The first voice replies teasingly. Eyes still closed, the couch quickly sinks down next you, and an arm is thrown around your shoulders, “So, the well’s a bit dry this season, huh?”

“Oh my god shut up, Tae.”

“It’s drought season and the crops are in need of a good ol’ watering, ayy?”

“I’m seriously going to punch your face in.”

“Moses parted the Red Sea and then just left it parted, huh? Tsk tsk, the cruel man.”

Back in college, once those barriers between you and Jungkook came down, they seemed to come down with everyone else as well. As you and the others really started to get to know Jungkook, you quickly learned that he was the complete opposite of how he initially presented himself. He wasn’t shy at all, or timid in the least – the boy loved to joke around and once he was comfortable, would shoot playful insults left and right and make all the sassy comments just as much as you did, if not more. Because of that, he could be a real pain, since he seemed to thrive off of messing with you and seeing your reactions. But if you thought Jungkook was a pain in the ass, then Taehyung proved himself to be a real thirty-six-foot flagpole up your ass. No one ever guessed that timid little Jungkook would click so well with Taehyung and that together as a team of evil, they would cause you so much misery. It was to the point that everyone knew better than to leave the three of you alone together for longer than five minutes – for the sake of world peace. Though after growing up a little and leaving college, Taehyung stopped mucking around as much, and he seemed to calm down even more once he and Hari got together. But the little shit-head spirit still lives on inside of him to this day – it’s a light that no one can snuff out. Bless Hari’s heart for continuing to keep tight reins on him and love his sorry ass.

Before you can show him the fullness of your wrath, Taehyung gives you a shit-eating grin and quickly bounces over to the other section of the couch where his girlfriend, aka your closest gal pal and college roommate Hari has taken a seat, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“She’s being awfully scary today, what’d you do Kook?”

Jungkook lets out an offended huff, and he’s right back to his normal, sarcastic self. “The hell did I do, I brought her highness take out on my way back from the gym and we’re watching her favorite Iron Man again for the umpteenth time.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “I’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“You love Iron Man as much as I do, bitch. Don’t even try me with that shit.”

“See? Major case of the grumps.”

Hari peels Taehyung’s arms off and gives him a scolding look when he whines before making her way to your side. She places a comforting hand on your back, peering down at your distraught face. “You alright, ­___? What’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s nothing, really.” You hide your face in your hands, “It’s literally not a big deal, I’m just a little irked, I guess.” Though it hurts your pride, you decide to be a little more honest, since they’ve already heard bits of your conversation with Jungkook. “Just debating whether I’m living my 26-year-old life right or not, that’s all.”

Hari raises her eyebrows, as if she can’t believe what her ears are hearing. “You’ve got a grown ass man who brings you take out all the time and willingly gives you free reign over his Netflix account. Looks to me you’re living the life, bub.”

“I think that was supposed to make me feel appreciated, but it just made me sound whipped as hell.”

Hari waves a hand dismissively at Jungkook, who scowls and starts reconsidering his life choices. “So what, you wanna go out and do something then? Something to make you feel better? Or in general, how can we,” She gestures to the three of them in a circular motion, “help convince you that you’re doing life just fine?”

“I’m telling ya, she just needs to get boned.” Taehyung mumbles while happily chewing on a fortune cookie. “See, even my fortune cookie agrees with me – thou must get the D in order to succeed.” You abruptly stand to your feet, turning to him with poisonous daggers shooting from your eyes.

“That’s it, get your punk ass over here, you little-“

“A boyfriend!” Hari suddenly clasps her hands together, an imaginary light bulb flickering over her head, “___ needs more than just a one-night stand, babe – we need to get her a mans.” You halt in your forward lunge towards Taehyung, who’s curled up in fetal position with his hands covering his head, and turn to her, your eyebrows knitting together in disbelief.

“You really think getting a boyfriend’s going to make me feel better?”

She nods eagerly, looking utterly convinced. “Let’s consider the facts for a moment, shall we? You’ve been out of school and working for a couple of years now, you’ve got this pad in the city all to yourself and nothing to do but eat junk and re-watch old superhero movies,” Your mouth falls open to protest, but Hari puts a finger to your lips, shushing you effectively. “And you’re having all these quarter-life-crisis symptoms. Maybe the issue is that it’s time for you to move on to the next chapter of your life, which in this case could be—”

“—finding a bae.” Taehyung finishes for her, his eyes wide as saucers as he uncurls from his fetal position to sit up on the couch. “Makes sense to me! HyukJae was what, three years ago? And you’ve been single ever since. Now that you’re an established, independent woman, there’s nothing holding you back from finding someone to do life with.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.  

There’s a beat of silence, but you wonder if the others can hear the gears turning in your head as you contemplate this proposal. It literally goes against everything Jungkook just said, finding a boyfriend just because it’s the proper “next step” you should be taking. Plus it’s not like you need a man to make your life complete – you’re already happily successful in sustaining yourself and your relationships with what you’ve got right now. But, you have to admit, a special someone could help spice things up a little, make life a little more fun and a little less drab. Maybe this person could help push you out of your comfort zone to go explore the city, find some new hobbies, get out of the apartment and try something new period. Maybe this significant other could help pave this new path for you and your life, because if lazy people were an army, then you would be the head chief in command, so God knows you need the help. So maybe, maybe you just need a little outside push to get you going.

The more you think about it, the more convinced you are that it’s at least worth a shot, and the determination slowly begins to grow inside of you. You know what Jungkook said but you figure taking this step is better than doing nothing at all. You suddenly stand up and pump your fist in the air like it’s a declaration of war, and you end up startling the others with your abrupt actions.

“Okay, let’s do it.” You announce, finding a new sense of motivation within you. “Let’s go and find me a mans! HUZZAH!”

Hari jumps up and squeals, immediately grabbing your phone off the coffee table and gushing about helping you make a dating profile and about which apps would be best for you to use. In the midst of all the commotion, Jungkook remains silent, his eyes trained on the floor, expression hard to read. But the excitement is too dizzying for you to notice. You just can’t help but have a good feeling about this next step in your life.

- - - - - 

“Okay, bread, check. Rice… check. Veggies, strawberries, bananas, check check check.”

“Don’t forget my Lucky Charms.”

Looking up from your phone, you cock your head at the man with the messy wavy hair casually leaning on the shopping cart rail, a look of disbelief painted on your face. “I still don’t get why I have to include your favorite cereal on my grocery list, Jeon.” Jungkook makes a funny face at you, one that makes him look dramatically offended, the cart coming to an abrupt stop.

“Um, first of all, Lucky Charms should be everyone’s favorite cereal, including yours. And second, I need to keep a box at your place for when we do delivery ‘cause I need something to eat right after working out or else I feel like I’m gonna die – literally.”

You roll your eyes and ignore the way Jungkook shoots a grin your way as he continues to push the cart. “You’re a grown ass man who makes his own money, get your own sugary cereal.”

“Do you want your best friend to starve to death? Is that the kind of love we’ve got here?”

“And you call me dramatic.”

Pausing at the cereal section, you internally groan after seeing that some jerk just had to put all the boxes of Lucky Charms up on the top shelf. You need to have a word with the grocery store manager about discriminating so openly against short people like this.

“So speaking of bananas, how’s the dating app thing going?” Jungkook asks casually, whistling along to the song they’re playing at the store. This time you groan externally, lowering your head down to rest it on the other available half of the shopping cart handle.

“You did not just use bananas as a segway into this conversation.”

Jungkook hums in indifference, pushing the cart along and smiling to himself when you continue to walk with him, still face down and leaning on the shopping cart. He suddenly comes to a stop which results in you hitting your head against the metal bars where infants are supposed to sit, and you mutter a curse at him, rubbing the sore spot as you meet his eyes with a glare. He just arches a brow innocently and points up at the shelf, looking all too smug for your liking. “Found the Lucky Charms.”

You let out a huff before nudging Jungkook out of the way. “I mean, it’s only been three days, but it’s going alright, I guess.” You inform him, making your way towards the shelves. “I’ve only talked to like two guys so far, but honestly it’s just, kinda weird? I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel natural at all, so that’s been rough.”

It’s only been a few days since your little eureka moment about seizing the day and giving your adult life a re-vamping. It’s been strange, having small talk conversation with potential dates with only having a few pictures and some witty captions and quotes on their “About Me” pages to go off of. Technology has certainly reinvented the way people date nowadays, but you can’t help but miss meeting people naturally through mutual friends or at a social event or something. Nevertheless, Hari’s been harping on you every day about any new matches you’ve made and keeping close tabs on your conversations with your matches, but it surprises you that Jungkook’s suddenly taking interest in this whole spiel. He’s seemed so uninterested in this from the start, which was a bit disappointing if you’re being honest. You had hoped you’d be able to talk to him more about it and get his opinions on your matches and who seemed good and who seemed like a left-swipe, only to get less than enthusiastic input from him. So for him to suddenly bring it up on his own volition is certainly an unexpected surprise.

“Mmm, I see.” You don’t even notice the way Jungkook’s voice dumbs down a notch from behind, too busy staring up at the colorful rainbow box above your head as determination settles in your stomach. If you just believe in yourself, you can do it – you will reach that goddamn box of cereal for your goddamned best friend and his childish taste palate, even if it kills you. This isn’t for Jungkook – this is for all the other shorties in the world.

You make your first attempt to reach the cereal. You’re up on your toes and then come straight back down, your fingers not even coming close to reaching the stupid box when Jungkook finally speaks up again. “What- what do you even look for in a guy, anyways?”

You pause for a moment, stopping yourself from jumping up for your second attempt to turn and face Jungkook. Even though the two of you are best friends, you realize you don’t really talk about this kind of stuff with him. Hari is always your go-to friend for these types of conversations, and it dawns on you that not only does Jungkook not know what your ideal type is, but you also have no idea what his is either. You’re surprised to discover something you don’t know about your best friend.

“Well, for starters, I’d appreciate it if he wasn’t a serial killer.” You muse, tapping your index finger on your chin thoughtfully. “I also feel like I like guys who are tall, have nice hair, who keep themselves fit and know how to dress well. You know, a guy who knows how to be a basic human being.”

“Oh, so basically me.” Jungkook quips, “I’m flattered, babe, really. Didn’t know you were so into this.” He sticks his tongue out when you smack his arm in response.

“Someone who wears anything besides hoodies and basketball shorts.” You emphasize jokingly, sticking your tongue out right back at him.

Jungkook raises his brows. “So wearing nothing? I could dig the nudist life, sounds chill.”

You snort, “Please, Jeon, spare us all.” Turning back to the shelves, you continue to think aloud. “I don’t know, I just want someone who’s easy to talk to, like a friend, someone who likes to joke around, but can be serious when needed. Someone who’s passionate about his ambitions in life and is a real go-getter, unlike myself. Someone who will be romantic and loyal – not like all the cheese you see in the movies, but in his own special way. You know,” you shrug, coming up onto your toes as you take another unsuccessful swipe at the box of cereal, your fingertips grazing the edge of it, “someone who will just love me right, I guess.” With a little hop, you accidentally push the cereal box an inch backwards and it pulls a frustrated noise out of you. But you are determined to stay here all night if it means you’ll be able to get this cereal box down yourself. Fucking Jungkook and his cereal needs. 

“What about you, Jeon?” You grunt out, this time reaching up with your other arm, as if it’ll make a difference. “What’s your type?” A rush of excitement comes over you when you manage to sneak the box back to its original spot, and now you can almost get two fingers around it.

“I…don’t really know.” You hear Jungkook say softly behind you, but you’re too zoned in on those damn Lucky Charms to notice the change in his demeanor. “I agree with a lot of the traits you named off, I guess.”

“What, you want someone tall, athletic, and well-dressed too?” You can most definitely hear Jungkook roll his eyes at that comment, and it makes you smile, even as you continue to struggle to make contact with the flimsy cardboard box, muttering incoherent complaints under your breath.

“I mean if he isn’t Park SeoJoon, then I’m not interested.”

Still facing the shelves, you can’t help but laugh at his mocking tone, even though you know he’s mimicking you. “Okay seriously though, I just realized I don’t know really this stuff about you. And come to think of it, I haven’t seen you date someone in like years.”

There’s a short pause in the conversation when suddenly you feel something warm press up against your back, and it startles you. You crane your neck upwards at a diagonal to see what it is and nearly let out a yelp. Jungkook’s face is merely inches away from yours, his eyes fixed on the box of Lucky Charms above. The scent of light soap and clean laundry detergent mixed with something slightly musky overwhelms your senses as he leans forward and presses himself against your back even more, the sensation causing a breath to become lodged in your throat. Without even having to rise onto his toes, he easily grabs the dumb box of Lucky Charms, finally ending your misery in more ways than just one, and before your body can even experience a full-on proper reaction, he’s already moving, a sudden chill replacing the warmth on your back as he moves to toss the cereal into the cart.

“Yeah, last time I dated was Ji Soo my sophomore year. Damn, that was a long time ago.” Jungkook recalls, leaning on the cart and continuing to push it down the aisle, not having any clue what he just did. He has no clue that your heart is suddenly thumping wildly in your chest, and that a heat is starting to spread across your cheeks, and you have to physically pinch yourself to snap out of it before Jungkook can notice something’s off.

Whenever Jungkook is physical with you, it’s almost always tied in with a joke or is just a part of the platonic comfort you two share with one another. Ruffling your hair, having his head or feet in your lap, pinching his cheeks – none of that is out of the ordinary. But feeling his back against you, his body so close and radiating heat onto your skin, breath puffing over your cheeks – this is all uncharted territory for you. And as his best friend, you’re not quite sure how to process the physiological effects you’re experiencing from it. You’re still in a bit of a daze, and you end up trailing a few steps behind him, close enough to keep up with the conversation but far enough to allow your body calm down. It’s sad how worked up you got just from your male best friend pressing himself up against you so suddenly. Maybe Taehyung is right and you’re just in desperate need for some physical intimacy or something.

“Ground ginger’s next on the list.” You mumble timidly, following Jungkook as he rounds the corner and into the next aisle. “B-but yeah, Ji Soo – feels like that whole month-long shebang happened eons ago.” You almost curse out loud when you see rows on rows of all kinds of spices littering the bottom shelves, and the one spice you need up on the damn top shelf once again. Starting next week, you will wear heels to the grocery store. Or stilts – whatever it takes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles to himself, “I still can’t believe she liked me so much that I just decided to go with it. Young dumb Jungkook definitely learned early on that that’s not how relationships work.”

“Cocky bastard.” You scoff, shaking your head. But he just shrugs, as if to say “it is what it is.”

“So how come you haven’t dated anyone since then?” You inquire, hoping Jungkook hasn’t noticed where the ground ginger is located because this time, you are hell bent on just snatching it up and calling it good already. You’ve had enough strange, foreign bodily reactions for the day.

“I…I don’t know.” Jungkook admits as you sneakily side step towards the shelf, standing up on your tiptoes while he’s busy staring off into the distance. His expression is reflective, and almost a little solemn as well. He really seems to be contemplating and taking this whole conversation quite seriously, even though it wasn’t intended to be that way. Maybe he still misses Ji Soo or something, the poor boy.

“I guess… I’ve just been waiting for the right person to come along.” Jungkook finally states after another few moments of silence, which you unceremoniously break after landing on your feet too loudly in a sad attempt to quietly jump and grab the bottle of ginger, which obviously didn’t happen quietly or at all, period.

A long list of all the expletives you know in multiple languages runs through your mind as you feel the warm plane of Jungkook’s chest press against your shoulder blades again. This time his fingers brush against yours along the way, and it almost feels like he lingers there for a second, but it’s probably just your imagination because before you know it, he’s already backing away and tossing the ground ginger into the cart, just like before. You really must be on something today – your raging hormones and galloping heart need to get their shit together and calm down already.

“I-I’m sure you’ll find her soon, one day.” You manage to stutter out, an awkward smile on your lips, “Someone who will accept you, even though you have the taste buds of a five-year-old.” You joke in hopes of lightening the mood that has somehow changed drastically in the last few minutes. Whether it’s because of how pensive Jungkook’s suddenly become or because of your inability to control your bodily functions at the moment, the air definitely feels different compared to five minutes ago, and it’s not very comfortable – at all. Fortunately, the joke seems to do the trick because a smile slowly spreads across Jungkook’s face, and all the seriousness and weird angst seems to vanish almost immediately.  

“Least I don’t still dip my oreos in my milk when I eat them. Heck, I don’t even eat oreos anymore.” Jungkook scoffs teasingly, eyeing the blue package of cookies in the cart, “Seriously what are you, a child?”

“See? You’ve got such shit taste buds, Jeon.” You shake your head pitifully at him. “Just watch, you’re gonna end up dating a huge foodie or a professional food blogger who will properly roast you for having such awful taste, and I’d pay just to watch it all go down.” The imagery itself makes you laugh, and you take advantage of the newly livened mood to snag the cart from Jungkook and head towards the cash registers. “Let me know if you’re ever interested and I’ll help you hunt one down, yeah?”

You pause to flash a cheeky grin towards Jungkook, and the way he chuckles in disbelief is satisfying enough of a reaction for you to turn back around and make your way towards the self-check out area. But you miss the way Jungkook’s laughter quickly dwindles, transitioning into a soft sigh as he watches your figure walk farther and farther away.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely let you know, someday.”

- - - - - 

“Welp, that’s number six in the books. Check. Done-zo. Fin. Es todo. Hip hop’s dead, y’all – it’s dead!”

“Uh, I take it the date went well?” Jungkook peeks his head out from the kitchen, a spoon hanging from his mouth and a jar of peanut butter in his hand (the super smooth, liquidy kind, like the weirdo he is. Who eats anything but chunky?) as you trudge your way inside his shared apartment with Yoongi and Namjoon, your old college friends who are also part of the same producer team as Jungkook, and throw yourself onto the sofa face first. You grumble something inaudibly into the cushion, but Jungkook doesn’t need to ask to know you’re probably saying some not so positive words under your breath. He holds his snack to his chest and walks over to lift your feet up, placing them on his lap and making himself comfortable.

“So, what went wrong this time?”

“He wath jmmf brrrurng.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak cave man.”

You lift your head up from the sofa and crane your neck back to glare at Jungkook, long messy curls covering half of your face and killing your intimidating factor. “I said, he was just boring.”

Jungkook makes a noise of understanding, unscrewing the lid and digging his spoon into the jar. He brings the rich cream to his mouth, smacking his lips with an obnoxious pop. “I mean, at least he wasn’t a creepy 58-year-old who lied about everything in his dating profile. Compared to that, ‘boring’ doesn’t sound half as bad.”

Giving up, you re-smush your face back into the couch cushion, mumbling some more incoherent words and phrases your parents would be shocked to hear you say.

It’s been about a month since you embarked on this journey of exploring the world of dating apps. Hari said so herself that she personally knew of four happy couples that met through dating apps and insisted that it’d be a breeze for you to find someone. So maybe it’s just you, maybe you have rotten luck, or maybe you’re just not a dating app kind of person, because Date #1 could not stop talking about himself – the only question he asked was if you were going to finish the rest of your dinner or not. Date #2 ended up being a sugar daddy type of deal, and although the figures were tempting, it just wasn’t what you were looking for. You nearly filed a restraining order against Date #3 for being way too inappropriately touchy and creepy throughout the entire date. You even had to text Jungkook to come rescue you from that whole mess and he nearly knocked that creep’s lights out for being such a sleaze bag. Date #4 was the 58-year-old who lied about his dating profile and said he was 28 when in reality, he had a daughter your age. YOUR. AGE. Date #5 was such a turn off with how rudely he treated the waiters and pretty much all the other restaurant staff – an automatic swipe left. And now Date #6.

You roll over onto your back, curls fanning out around your head. You probably look like Medusa’s ugly sister right now. “He just didn’t... talk. He was the total opposite of Date #1 who couldn’t shut up long enough to let me excuse myself to the restroom. This guy barely said anything and honestly, I don’t know what’s worse.” You mutter a quick apology to Jungkook who squeaks after you accidentally dig your heel into his thigh while ranting, hitting a spot that’s a wee bit too close to a very sensitive area for him. “I kept asking questions to try to get to know the guy, only to get one-word answers from him every time.” You indignantly point at the clock on the wall. “That’s why I’m back so early, it took like forty-five minutes tops for me to run out of patience and questions to ask.”

“Mmm, sucks.” Jungkook mumbles half-heartedly, seemingly more interested in licking the spoon completely clean. “So you basically ate tacos and talked to a wall for forty-five minutes.”

“Exactly! And the tacos weren’t even that good!” You sit up, waving around exaggerated gestures before falling back onto the couch, draping an arm over your face. “You know what, that’s it. It’s obvious these are all signs that I’m supposed to be a nun. This must be my fate, my inevitable future, and I see now that I can no longer avoid the path that has been so clearly paved for me.”

“My god woman, you are dramatic. Has anyone ever told you that?” Jungkook pokes you in the stomach with the heel of his spoon, and you to flinch from the ticklish sensation.

You peek out from under your arm, “Should’ve gone into acting, huh? Seriously, damn all my life choices, damn them all!”

Jungkook chuckles, clearly amused by your theatrics. “Maybe you should take a break from the dating apps, give the potential dating pool some time to refresh and replenish a bit or something. Or, you could actually take my advice for once and stop putting so much pressure on yourself to find a boyfriend and just roll with the punches as they come.” The look he gives you is jokingly stern, though there’s some seriousness in his tone, and it makes you sigh. Maybe Jungkook’s actually onto something, as proven by your current not-so-hot track record. The past month has been more draining than fun, and so far it’s all been for nothing. Maybe you just need to give it all a break, and give yourself a break, really. Or seriously start considering entering the convent – either one, really.

As you continue to contemplate your life choices, you watch as Jungkook brings another spoonful of PB to his lips, only to dribble a straight line of it down his precious white t-shirt. He mutters an expletive under his breath and sets the jar and spoon down on the coffee table, rubbing away at the stain with his fingers. His efforts prove to be futile when the ugly brown smudge remains and without warning, he stands up and pulls the shirt off over his head, revealing the perfectly chiseled muscles of his back and shoulders. You involuntarily gulp at the sight of his sunkissed skin and the way his muscles ripple as he moves to throw the shirt into the laundry bin.

“Yeah, maybe...you’re right…” Your breath comes out in a quiet whoosh.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Jungkook shirtless before. There was that one time you went hot tubbing on the ski trip you and your friends took in college, or the few times you had to barge into his dorm room and drag his half-naked ass out of bed so he wouldn’t be late to lecture. But Jungkook’s always been a lot more conservative than not, and he didn’t exactly have the greatest confidence back then either. He used to be absolutely mortified in those moments and would hurriedly grab at anything nearby to cover up his body. Even though so many people agreed he was one of the most handsome and sought after guys on campus, he was still so self-conscious of himself. But as he went through college, he started to become interested in exercising and eventually made the commitment to hit the gym to change not only his body, but his confidence and perception of himself as well. The Jungkook now, with his sculpted physique, lean muscles, and much larger, more dominating stature, is totally different from the skinny, insecure boy you knew back in college. With the way he built himself up over the last few years physically, mentally, and emotionally, he just oozes confidence with now, which is great, but also not so great – for you, at least.

You chastise yourself every single time, but you can’t help but ogle openly during these rare moments his sweet glory is revealed to you. It’s so wrong to look at your best friend like this, you know it is – he’s just very comfortable around you and knows it’s no big deal to walk around like the half-naked god he is because it’s just you. But it’s kind of impossible to not gawk, not when his body is practically screaming to be worshipped (and is 100% worthy of it). It’s times like these that you’re reminded he is not just the jokester and bunny boy you call your best friend – he’s a fully grown man, and just so happens to be a very physically attractive one. And with the way the sight of his mouth-watering build makes your lower stomach feel, you realize once again that you’re a grown ass woman as well – a woman who has needs.

“Hey, eyes up here, perv.” He says with his back still turned to you as he grabs a hoodie hanging on one of the kitchen chairs. “And you might wanna wipe off the drool while you’re at it.” That snaps you out of your reverie as you quickly avert your eyes and sit up clumsily on the couch, making sure to scoff loud enough for him to hear.

“For your information, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your penchant for indecency, you cocky bastard. And jokes on you, there isn’t anything worth looking at, son!” Out of the corner of your eye you see him pull on the hoodie and turn back towards you, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips.

“That’s pretty much what you say every time I catch you staring. But hey, I don’t mind having an audience.” He squeezes himself next to you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and his eyes are twinkling. “But you should either fess up that you think I’m hot or come up with some new excuses, ‘cause yours are starting to get real old, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose, ignoring the way the pet name weirdly makes your heart stutter for a second. “Don’t call me babe, you baby.”

“Baby?” He leans in, his nose just a couple of dangerous inches away from yours. “I’m only like eight months younger than you, babe.”

“Whatever, you’re still a baby to me.” You grunt, folding your arms in an attempt to maintain the very little space left between your bodies. His gaze is dark and challenging, and it alone makes the heat pooling in your lower abdomen grow. “Don’t make me bring out pictures from college, Jeon. Sit down, be humble.”

“But I’m already sitting, babe.” Jungkook remarks, his tone sarcastic.

“You know, I bet Soobin wouldn’t be happy to hear her boyfriend calls other women a name that should be reserved solely for her.” You click your tongue in disapproval, secretly relieved with being able to change the subject as you quickly brush away the lustful thoughts in your head. “How are you guys even doing, by the way? Will I ever get to meet this mystery woman? Like, she’s really not just some imaginary girlfriend you made up?”

Something flashes across Jungkook’s eyes, but it’s gone before you can determine what is, and you forget all about it when he makes a face and pushes your forehead back with his index finger, “No, I’m not you, Miss ‘I’m Park SeoJoon’s wife.’ And it’s only been like less than a month, okay, chill. I just want to make sure she fully prepared to meet the freak-shows I call my friends.”

Jungkook must’ve been inspired by your new mission to find a boyfriend or something because once you started going on dates, the man apparently decided to make his own dating profile as well, surprising pretty much everyone by his sudden jump into the game. No one even knew he was interested, and he didn’t tell anyone, not even you, that he was on the apps. But that’s how he found Soobin, this mystery girl he’s apparently been seeing for the past few weeks. She’s actually a total mystery though because he hasn’t said a peep about her and how it’s been going. He’s oddly secretive about it all, which is strange because normally he tells you everything. But not this time, even though you pry and pry and pry. For some reason he just won’t budge.

“Jeon, if she can’t handle us right now, she won’t be able to handle us period, so you might as well introduce her already.” You shrug nonchalantly. “We gotta deem her worthy or weed her out.” As his best friend, you feel the need to meet this girl and see what she’s like for yourself to make sure she’s good enough for Jungkook. It’s not your fault that you want to meet her so bad – you’re just looking out for your best friend’s well-being.  

There’s a brief moment of silence as you catch Jungkook chewing on his lower lip – a habit of his when he’s feeling nervous or unsure about something – and you immediately begin to feel concerned. Maybe you pushed too much. Seeing him like that makes you feel a little guilty for prying so much without even considering that maybe something is up.

“Hang on, is something the matter?” Worry laces your voice, a hand coming to rest on his knee, “Is there a reason why you’re not saying anything?” You search his eyes for answers, but he just shakes his head vigorously, lips tightly pursed together. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Yeah seriously, none of us even know what this chick looks like. Why’re you keeping her such a secret from all of us?”

You hang your head backwards over the back of the couch and see Namjoon padding into the living, carrying what you assume to be an empty coffee mug in his hand. Namjoon’s always been someone Jungkook has greatly admired. He was the one who really encouraged the younger to pursue music and follow his dreams, rather than go into business like his parents wanted him to. If there’s anyone he’ll listen to, it’s Namjoon, though you continuously pray Jungkook won’t ever adopt the older man’s horrible sleeping habits. The dark shadows under his eyes and hoarseness of his voice indicate just how tired and in need of caffeine he is from most likely another all-nighter in the studio. But then again, the big producer man always looks like he runs on nothing but caffeine and no sleep. What a life.

Still hanging upside down, you give him a small wave and a “hi-yo” to which he copies your greeting adorably, his droopy eyes lighting up slightly.

“Hyung, not you too.” Jungkook whines defeatedly, running a hand down his face, “Look, she’s no secret, okay. I just, I don’t know, I just—”

“—don’t want to scare her off, yeah I get it.” Namjoon calls over his shoulder as he scuffs his slipper-clad heels towards the coffee machine in the kitchen. “It’s a new relationship, you’re still testing the waters, and we can be a lot to handle, so I get it. And by we, I really mean ___.”

“Hey!” You protest as Namjoon starts the machine before he comes out of the kitchen and strolls towards you, affectionately ruffling your already mussed hair.

“I say that with all the love in my heart, you Tasmanian devil.”

You scowl at him. “I hope your coffee is just as bitter as I am right now.”

“Anyways,” He turns to Jungkook, ignoring your griping. “Yoongi and I just got word that Slow Rabbit’s throwing some sort of PR event this weekend. He told us to invite the whole gang and any other friends, help boost our publicity a little.” Namjoon gives the younger man a pointed look. “Basically, it’s the perfect opportunity to introduce bae, if you want to, that is.”

“Oh, this is perfect!” You jump up and clasp your hands together excitedly. “We’ll finally expose Jeon for making up some fake ass imaginary girlfriend, and maybe I’ll finally be able to mingle with some normal guys for once.” You pause, turning to Namjoon, “Your producer friends are decent guys, right?”

Namjoon gives you a wary look and a half-hearted shrug, “Uhh, sure, I guess?”

“Awesome!” You chirp, “I trust you Joonie, it’s always been you and only y-” You let out a yelp when a pair of arms grabs your waist and spins you around so that you’re falling face first onto the sofa. The hands holding you hostage begin to mercilessly poke into your sides, forcing what sounds like a combination of choked laughter and cries for help out of you.

“Fake ass imaginary girlfriend, huh?” Jungkook growls, digging his fingers deeper into your love-handles, and you immediately howl in surrender. “I’m gonna make you throw up your tacos, you wench.”

From the sideline, Namjoon just sighs at the noisy commotion playing out in front of him, shaking his head as he watches Jungkook flip you onto your back and dive for your stomach, lips curling upwards mischievously. The wide grin on your face and ringing laughter in between yelps for mercy prevent Namjoon from feeling like he actually needs to intervene and save you. He does, however, feel disappointed (but not surprised) that you both can’t even see what’s happening here. He decides to just leave you two to duke it out, quietly sighing and shuffling into the kitchen to grab his coffee.

Maybe one day.

- - - - -   

It’s the following Friday night and guess where you are?

Not at home in your pajamas watching Black Panther while eating Thai take-out that Jungkook brought, that’s for sure. The thought alone makes you so incredibly sad. Because instead, in cruel reality, you’re sitting at a table inside a very dimly lit club called the Sound Bar, which is surprisingly clean and roomy, waiting for this PR event to start already. You know this is how all the hip young adults live out their lives in the movies, but now you’re seriously beginning to regret all that complaining about wanting to go out.

A few people have arrived, and you recognize them as some of Yoongi’s friends that you don’t know too well yourself. They linger around the bar in a huddled group, sipping on beers and chatting away with the man himself, who also looks like he doesn’t particularly want to be here either. That’s because you and Yoongi know what’s up – comfort is king and living under a rock is the only way to go. The thought pulls a sigh from your lungs as you turn to scan the venue. Besides them, it looks like you and your closer group of friends make up majority of the crowd currently, but people are really starting to file in now, steadily filling up the spacious area with body heat, boisterous conversation, and a lot of different smells. It makes your nose twitch.

Strangely enough, you don’t see Jungkook and Soobin yet, and you keep craning your neck to watch the door like a hawk for their entrance. While you were getting ready with Hari hours prior, you made Jungkook double pinky swear to not bail and to actually bring Soobin so you could meet her and confirm that she’s real. (“If you don’t come, I’m actually going to spread the rumor that you have an imaginary girlfriend.” “You’re the actual spawn of Satan, I swear.”) You know he’ll come regardless – he wouldn’t just leave you hanging like this. It’s finally time to figure out why he’s keeping this girl on the hush hush, and what exactly is going on with him.

“Whoa.” A baritone voice brings you out of your thoughts. Swiveling around, you see Taehyung gaping openly at you, a hand covering his mouth. “Seriously, like whoaaa.”

You scrunch your nose. “Tae, don’t even start – you’re literally so embarrassing.”

“Hey, if Hari is your number one hype woman, then I’m your number one hype man, okay, just let me be!” He stretches his arms out towards you as if he’s showing off an award, holding up jazz hands and everything. “Just look at you, queen! My baby Hari did such a great job, you look like a total hoochie mama!”

Your cheeks burn a scarlet red. “Oh good, because it was totally my goal to look like a hoochie mama. Thanks Tae.” Now you also regret letting Hari squeeze you into this skimpy black two-piece set. It was a bad idea from the start, but Taehyung’s reaction just confirms it. The short noodle strap crop top tightly hugs your bust and shows off more of your midriff than you would ever prefer. You keep wanting to cover it up with your arms out of reflex. But luckily the shorts are comfortable, though a bit short for your liking. Your hair flows down in beachy waves and a deep burgundy tints your lips, and the silver dollar-coin sized hoops hanging off your ear lobes are over the top in your opinion, but Hari threatened you to wear them out, insisting the outfit wouldn’t be complete without them. If anything, it’s Hari’s fault you apparently look like a hoochie mama.

“No problem!” Taehyung grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He catches whiff of your unhappy demeanor and nudges you playfully, his expression softening. “Aw, c’mon ­­­__, lighten up a little! You look hot, seriously.” He pulls away to examine the state you’re in. “Do you need a drink? Actually yeah, you definitely do. I’m going to get you one.” Taehyung spins around on the stool to head to the bar, only for a hand to clamp down on his shoulder, stopping him mid-spin. Your eyes drift to the side and you’re surprised to see Jungkook giving his friend a silent but very clear warning, tilting his head intimidatingly. “No, I’ll go get ­it. God knows how many types of alcohol you’ll ask Hoseok hyung to mix into her drink. Then you’ll be responsible for dealing with the mess afterwards.”

Glaring at Taehyung’s sheepish smile, Jungkook’s slate eyes land on you and immediately widen, his jaw going slack when he sees the little (emphasis on little) black number you’re wearing. It’s probably because he’s so used to you wearing only leggings and oversized shirts and hoodies all the time that seeing you like this is a shock. That’s certainly how you felt looking at your reflection in the mirror at home. But you can’t help but shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly feeling the need to cross a leg over the other and place your purse strategically over your midriff from his gaze alone. Seconds, minutes, hours could be passing by but his glare doesn’t falter one bit. It’s almost seems like he’s angry or something but it’s also not quite that – you can’t seem to put your finger on it. Fortunately, the lights are dimmed low, and you just hope it’s dark enough to hide the blush that’s suddenly crawling up your neck from the way Jungkook keeps staring. At this rate he’s going to end up burning a hole straight through you.

“Doesn’t she look smoking?” Taehyung whistles low, giving his friend a nudge to the ribs. He barely moves and just continues keep his eyes glued on you.

“Hari did this?” Jungkook ignores him, finally speaking up after a few tense moments. His voice sounds much deeper than normal.

“Yeah,” You squeak awkwardly, looking away from his heavy gaze. What’s his deal? “So uh, where’s Soobin?” You try to change the subject, clearing your throat slightly and pretending to look around for this girl you don’t even know. You think it works, but then Jungkook catches you off guard by suddenly shrugging off his jean jacket and reaching around to drape it over your shoulders, the denim fabric engulfing your figure. It automatically feels a lot stuffier and ten degrees warmer, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the jacket or because of Jungkook’s unrelenting glower. You suddenly feel jittery.

“Dude, I could use this later when I’m drunk and cold and waiting for an Uber, not when it’s like a bajillion degrees inside.” You joke as you jump down from the stool and move to take the jacket off, only for his hands to keep it firmly in place on your shoulders. You look up at the man towering over you and have to consciously keep yourself from physically cowering away. Jungkook looks pissed. But for what reason, you have no clue. He just looks annoyed beyond reason, and not like when you normally mess with him and call him a fatty or something. It’s different, and it’s intimidating enough to make you swallow your pride and obey his next words.

“Keep it on.”

He lingers for a moment longer before dropping his arms and stalking off, disappearing among the crowd that has grown significantly in the last ten minutes, probably to go find Soobin. What’s disturbing is how your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart hammering against your rib cage like a trapped bird that wants to be let out. You have no idea what the hell just happened here. It’s not like Jungkook to ever despise your outfits, let alone even care about what you wear in general. Maybe he fought with Soobin on the way here and is in a bad mood? Or worse, maybe you did something to upset him without realizing it. You shake your head as if to brush aside all the conflicting thoughts, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Yeah, you do need a drink, pronto.

At the bar you order a vodka-cran and send a weak smile to the bartender Hoseok, who’s a friend of Namjoon’s and an acquaintance of yours, requesting for him to make the drink a bit stronger than normal. He smiles back and doesn’t question your request, immediately whisking away to make your order. You would hug the man if you could, God knows how much you need a nice strong drink right now.

“___!” You hear Hari giggle and she plops down on the stool next to yours, looking very giddy and flushed in the face – a tell-tale sign that she’s had a few drinks already. At least someone’s having a good time. “Where’d you get the jacket? I kind of like the addition, it’s a bit grungy but in like a sexy, hipster way, you know?”

Remembering what happened with Jungkook, the jacket suddenly feels twenty pounds heavier as you shift it around awkwardly on your shoulders. “Uhh yeah, Jungkook gave it to me ‘cause, uh, I was cold.” Yeah, that’s why he acted the way he did. He was just angry because you might be cold…because that totally makes sense. You sigh inwardly.

“I don’t know about cold, it feels like a hundred degrees in here.” A voice chimes in, making you and Hari turn your heads simultaneously to the right. Dressed casually in a white button-down shirt that’s rolled up loosely at the elbows, a man sits on the bar stool to your right, sporting short jet-black hair, thick but neatly groomed eyebrows, a small, polite smile, and these beautiful obsidian eyes that are currently locked in on yours. Even though he’s sitting, you can tell he’s literally the definition of tall, dark and handsome, enough so to make you wonder why the hell he’s talking to you.

“Oh yeah, it’s like a god-awful sauna in here. In fact, let me go tell Joon, maybe he can get someone to crank up the AC or something.” Hari hurriedly blurts out, jumping from her stool with a knowing twinkle in her eye. She gives your arm a quick squeeze, a silent “good luck!” before taking off, making sure to look back at you every other step of the way. Very subtle.

Just before an awkward silence can ensue, Hoseok comes by to deliver your drink, which you immediately grab and begin to chug hastily, all the while silently praying this guy won’t end up being dud #7. Even if he does, you’re still going to need all the alcohol you can get to survive the rest of the night, what with Jungkook acting all weird, not having even met Soobin yet, or not having mingled with other people yet. The glass still at your lips, the thought causes you to wave your hand in a haphazard signal to Hoseok for another vodka-cran.

“Bit thirsty, aren’t we now?” Damn. Tipping back the last bits, you set the glass down and take in a deep breath, alcohol steadily dissolving in your blood as you ready yourself for whatever is to come. “Ha-ha, yeah,” You croak awkwardly, fidgeting with the glass, “just needed to cool down, ‘cause you know, it’s so hot.”

“Didn’t you just say you were cold?”

You glance down at the light acid wash jacket and momentarily shut your eyes in regret. If it was humanly possibly, you’d kick yourself in the shin for sounding so stupid right off the bat.

“This,” You open your eyes after re-composing yourself and put on a one-hundred-watt smile, “is merely a fashion statement. I was going for the grungy, sexy, hipster look, that’s all.”

“Ah, right, like your friend just said.”

You bite your lip. Okay, it’s official – you fucked up. You should just get up and walk away right now. Save some face and talk to someone else before this gets any more humiliating than it already is. You decide that this can’t go for much longer or else you’ll literally die and wither away from embarrassment. A goodbye is already on your lips and your legs itch to make a run for it when the guy suddenly starts to laugh, his shoulders shaking, while wearing a grin that undoubtedly looks really good on him.

“Wow, alright then.” Looking positively amused, he stretches a hand out to you. “Hi, I’m YoungHo.”

“And you think I’m totally bizarre.” You mumble back, wanting nothing more than to crawl under a rock and die. But YoungHo shakes his head, letting go of his drink to wave his hands at you as well.

“No I don’t, really.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, causing him to cock his head to the side, a lopsided smile on his face.

“I just think you’re kinda… quirky?”

“Oh God, you might as well tell me to go join the Ripley’s Believe It or Not crew.” You groan, propping your elbows on the bar and burying your face into your hands. He’s just being nice and trying to make light conversation and here you are looking like a total buffoon with half a brain cell left. There’s just no way he doesn’t think you’re at least a little insane. Your cheeks feel like burning pieces of coal, the heat effectively setting the rest of your face ablaze along with them.

He laughs again, the sound so deep and rich and honestly quite pleasant to listen to. But sensing your mortification, he quickly begins to cough, clearing his throat to rid of the laughter.

“You know,” He continues, seemingly more composed now, but a smile still twinkles in his eyes, “I used to not be able to understand why people would go see shows like that. They just didn’t seem all that appealing to me. But then I watched The Greatest Showman and man, it totally changed my views. Now I’m dying to go see a show.”

Your ears perk up after hearing the name of one of your favorite movies and you lift your head from your hands, the embarrassment slowly starting to fade away. “Isn’t that movie just amazing? And I totally get what you mean, I wasn’t a huge fan of stuff like that before but now I’m just waiting for something like Ripley’s to come to town so I can snag tickets and reminisce.”

He hums in agreement, “It also hands down has the best soundtrack out there. I think it’s definitely up there with the Lion King and Hamilton.”

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, your muscles starting to relax a little bit now. “Hamilton tickets are seriously impossible to get. You’ll never guess how many email accounts I made just to try and win lottery tickets.”

“How many?”

“Eleven.”

“Get out of here.”

“No, seriously!”

Before you know it, more drinks are being poured and the conversation is taking off with its new set of wings, all embarrassment now left in the dust of the past. You two continue to chat about movies, which leads to talking about hobbies, favorite places in the city, the best pizza parlor in town (it might just be the alcohol or you’re just really that passionate about your pizza opinions because you two even end up getting into a very heated debate about thin crust versus deep dish). You’re honestly surprised by how natural it feels. Time flies through bouts of laughter and light conversation, and it all ends up being so much easier than you originally thought it’d be. And, this guy has yet to prove himself to be a dud yet. He’s actually very nice – attentive, funny, finds you funny. No joke, the man seems to really enjoy laughing at you. But he assures you that he’s not laughing at you – he’s just laughing at your antics, the peculiar things you say, the never-ending sass tank you’ve got fully loaded and on hand at all times.

At one point when you slam your fist down and insist that deep dish pizza is the only way to go, he tells you to prove it, smoothly asking you out on a pizza date so you two can compare thin crust and deep dish. You almost can’t believe it when he hands your phone back to you, “YoungHo :)” and a phone number illuminating on the bright screen. Things actually seem to be working out for once – you might’ve actually found a normal match!

Two hours of drinks and conversation breezes by before YoungHo tells you he needs to run to the restroom. “Watch my drink?” He smiles, a hand gently resting on the small of your upper back. You nod more furiously than you anticipated, but he doesn’t seem to notice and thanks you, turning to squeeze his way through the crowd.

It feels great to know that things seem to finally be looking up, you would cry if it wasn’t for the fear of ruining Hari’s wonderfully done make up. You do figuratively pat yourself on the back, though. You really did your drunk, 26-year-old self some good by putting yourself out there like this.

YoungHo seems like a decent guy, really. But in the short time you spent getting to know him, you still made sure Hoseok just kept the drinks coming, because no matter how nice of a conversation it was, you were still a little nervous the entire time. With your luck and current track record, things could go wrong at any time, so you needed the help of your good friend alcohol to get you to loosen you up a bit. But it’s only now that you’ve let your guard down a little that the effects of the drinks seem to really be kicking in full force. Only now is the room is starting to spin, your head feeling a lot fuller and fuzzier than before. You swirl Youngho’s whisky glass absentmindedly, sleepily observing the ice spin round and round at the bottom, the motion soothing, almost hypnotizing. If you keep doing this you might actually be able to put yourself to slee-

“You hanging in there alright?”

You startle from your drowsy haze, eyes uncoordinatedly searching for a bit before finally landing on a familiar figure to your right. It’s not YoungHo – this time, it’s a much more familiar person.

“Jeon-bun!” You excitedly coo, cupping your chin with your hands and leaning forward on your elbows to get closer to your best friend, who plops down on the seat next to you. You blink lethargically several times, a dopey grin hanging on your lips. “Why isn’t it my favorite boy, my baby, my love child, my little tulip.”

Jungkook whips his head toward you, the once stoic look on his face now morphed into one of bewilderment. “Tulip? Love child? What the actual- how many drinks have you had?”

“Psh,” You wave a hand carelessly at him, “Like, Monday.”

“Shit, this is bad.” Jungkook groans, carding a hand through his hair. “Monday’s not a number, stupid.”

“Oh, I meant seven, seeeevvveeeen, hehehehehe.”

You’d argue you can handle your alcohol pretty well, with six or seven drinks being your limit. But then again, it’s not like you remember much after having that many drinks, so you can’t really say for sure. According to Jungkook who’s witnessed and endured majority of your drunk episodes with you, that is definitely not the case, but what does he know?

You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, as if pained about something, and the sight makes you frown. You don’t like seeing your Jungkookie sad, mad, upset or frustrated about anything. Not on your watch.

“HEY!” You shout, startling some people nearby as you press your index fingers onto the corners of his lips, pushing them up until they form a constipated looking smile. “No frowning allowed, nuh uh. My love child is not allowed to be sad. You’re ugly when you’re sad.”

“Oh gee thanks, real confidence booster.”

You let go and pinch his cheeks before letting your arms drop, swaying your head as you hum along to the music that’s playing. You recognize it to be one of Namjoon’s original songs from one of his mixtapes, and it also happens to be one of your favorites, the tune upbeat and catchy. It just serves to lift your drunk spirits even higher. 

“YoungHo’s great, did I tell you that?” You suddenly announce. Eyes closed, you continue to hum as you wait for Jungkook to respond. It feels like it takes longer than usual for him to respond to you, but that could just be you and your impaired sense of time. But he eventually answers, his voice low and even.

“The guy you’ve been talking to all night, his name’s YoungHo, huh.” 

You bob your head up and down, “Yeah, he likes pizza. And I think he likes me. Actually I don’t know yet, we’re gonna go get pizza next week so I’ll find out then.” You giggle, turning from side to side on the bar stool. Sighing happily, you suddenly swivel around to face Jungkook, knees bumping up against his. He flinches at the sudden contact.

“Jungkook-ah.”

“What.”

“I’m so happy.” You sigh again, staring off into space with a dreamy look on your face, not noticing the way Jungkook tenses up, gripping the beer bottle in his hand.

“That so? How come?” He says calmly, though his body reacts in the complete opposite manner. He nervously taps his fingers along the glass of the bottle and bites down on his lower lip, worrying the flesh between his teeth. But you don’t pay attention to it, his actions cloaked by the drunken spell that’s been casted over you.

“Because,” You tilt your head to the side, giving him an even more wistful smile, “pizza exists, Fat Fridays are the best, I finally met a guy who isn’t 58 or a total creep, I have the most amazing friends, and an even more incredible best friend and I love you, Jungkook.” A hiccup mixed with a chuckle escapes you. “I love you, best friend. You know I wouldn’t be able to do life with you, right?”

On a regular night out, drunk you includes the following: increases in smiling frequency, steadily rising volume of laughter, increasing amounts of shouting and passionate declarations, ensuing of blabbering nonsense, and finally, sleepy sappiness to end the night. Basically alcohol brings out your normal personality and amplifies it a few thousand times. Normally, Jungkook’s used to experiencing all your drunk symptoms and isn’t even phased by all the cheesy sap or ridiculousness that tends to spew from your lips. But this time your words hit differently – they strike his bones from an angle he wasn’t prepared to take a blow from. It causes him to swallow past a lump in his throat, and he quickly takes a swig of his beer to help force it down.

“Thought you said you were tired of Fat Fridays, said they made you feel like a retired grandma.” He manages to get out, eyes flitting around nervously.

You place a hand to your chest in feigned offense, “Who, me? I would never say such a thing, Fat Fridays are a blessing from above.” Reaching over, you give Jungkook’s hand a friendly squeeze, his eyes focused on where your hand lies. “I’m just saying that things are perfect the way they are right now, okay. YoungHo and I are getting married, you and I will keep the Fat Friday tradition alive, and everything will be happy and wonderful for the rest of our lives.”

“Married?!” Jungkook nearly spits out the sip of beer he had just taken and chokes back on a cough. “I think you need to take like eighty-six steps back and stop jumping to conclusions for a second, ___.” He scoffs in disbelief, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You barely even know the guy.”

“I know enough about him, trust me.” You drunkenly wave his judgment away. “Anyways, where’s Soobin? You did bring her, right? I want to meet her already, you asshole!”

Jungkook sighs and fights the urge to roll his eyes, even as you give his arm a spiteful pinch. “Calm down, she’s using the restroom. I’ll introduce her once she gets ba-”

“I’m here, babe.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, your eyes shoot open. You immediately spin around and hop off the bar stool, steadying yourself on the seat cushion once your feet hit the ground because apparently alcohol has the power to turn your legs into jelly. You squint a little in an attempt to get your vision to focus. Through the drunken fog, you’re able to make out a set of cat-like eyes, pink thinly pursed lips, a cascade of perfect ringlets of caramel curls, and a tight blue body-con dress hugging a slim, petite figure. This must be her, this must be-

“Soobin!” You squeal elatedly, taking the girl’s hands into yours, proceeding to shake them up and down furiously. “It’s soooo nice to finally meet you.” You let go of one hand to jerk a thumb at Jungkook. “This asshat’s been keeping us in the dark for so long when it comes to you, so I’m so happy to finally be able to meet you!”

You look back and forth between Jungkook and Soobin like an overly excited puppy that needs to pee. But you can’t help it, you’re finally meeting the girl that Jungkook has deemed worthy of his affections, so of course it’s a huge moment for you, for all of you. Best friend meets girlfriend, girlfriend meets best friend. It does makes you feel a little weird though, seeing the person who is apparently his girlfriend stand by his side. Whatever this feeling is, it’s definitely…foreign. But you’re too caught up in the excitement to really care – you just hope it’s a moment you won’t forget because of your frenemy Mr. Vodka-Cran. Screw him.

“Um, hi, it’s nice to meet you too.” The girl says uneasily, leaning a bit closer to Jungkook. “You must be ___.”

Your jaw drops open unattractively as you jab a finger at your own chest. “You know who I am?!”

“Jungkook talks about you a lot.” Soobin states matter-of-factly, her demeanor cool and calm – almost too cool and calm. You feel the need to introduce her to Mr. Vodka-Cran.

“Aw, does he really now?” You affectionately pat Jungkook on the cheek, who rolls his eyes when you coo at him. “I’m his best friend – actually, the best friend he could ever ask for – so I’m not surprised. But still happy to hear it.” You focus your attention back on Soobin, your eyes sparkling. “So, tell me about yourself! How did you and Jungkook meet? Oh wait, silly me, I already know you met on Tinder, duh! What I meant to say is, how’s it going? Are you guys happy together?” You suddenly gasp, “Are you guys going to get married?! Oh my gosh, congratulations! I can’t wait to tell the others-”

The rest of your words come out as a muffled, unintelligible mess from behind Jungkook’s hand. He knows better than to let the “blabbing nonsense” stage get any worse. It takes you an extra long second to register what’s happening but when you finally do, you give him a repulsed look before licking his palm in revenge, causing him to draw his hand back reflexively.

“O-kay, I think that’s enough ‘getting to know each other’ time.” He cringes, wiping the spit off on his dark denim jeans. “Uh, so yeah, ___ this is Soobin, Soobin this is ___.” He turns to Soobin, looking apologetic, “Sorry you have to meet ___ when she’s butt-drunk like this. Normally she’s a little off her rocker but I swear she’s not this crazy all the time.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Well that’s kind of a bummer to hear.”

Cheeks flushed, you whirl around and are greeted by another one of YoungHo’s amused smiles and he leisurely strides over to where you guys are standing. It feels like he’s been gone for forever; you nearly forgot about him for a second there. You wonder if he was really in the bathroom for that long or if alcohol just slows time down that much.

“YoungHo,” You beam, raising a hand up in salutation, before directing it towards the couple beside you, “this is my best friend and pet bunny, Jungkook. And this,” you gesture towards Soobin, “is his girlfriend Soobin! Aren’t they just precious?”

YoungHo bites his lips to hold back a bout of laughter, obviously having not expected your level of inebriety to increase this much in the few minutes he was gone. But he lets his manners go ahead of him, extending a hand out to Jungkook. “Pleasure’s mine, I’m YoungHo, a… new friend of ___’s.”

Jungkook stares at the man’s hand like it’s his first time seeing a hand and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He stills, the booming music and surrounding chattering conversations blurring together messily in the background. You may be far from sober, but even you can feel the palpable awkwardness, and you frantically wonder why he’s just letting this stretch of silence pass on by without saying anything. It’s so awkward, YoungHo’s expression starts to shift into an uncomfortable one, his outstretched hand wavering slightly. Your eyes quickly flicker to Soobin, who looks just as puzzled as you feel, and out of anxious discomfort you inwardly start to chant you shake it, you dimwit, shake it!

After a few more excruciating moments of tension, the man seems to finally figure out how to operate his own hand and takes YoungHo’s into his, the handshake looking really firm – almost painfully firm. But at least he finally shook his damn hand and put all of you out of your collective awkward misery.

From beneath slightly narrowed eyes, Jungkook makes silent eye contact with YoungHo before he mutters a greeting and briskly lets go, shoving his hand into his pocket. You remind yourself to give Jungkook a lesson on basic manners after this night is finally over with.

“Allllllrighty then!” You chirp, clapping your hands together to break up the strange atmosphere. “Friends, girlfriends, tulips – everyone’s been introduced. This calls for celebration! And more alcohol!” In your trek back towards the bar, you somehow manage to trip over your own foot, gravity pulling your body forward in a sudden jerk that has you falling towards the gleaming wood surface. But luckily a hand, no, two hands grab your arms and quickly hoist you up, your eyes rolling around dizzily in your head from all the movement. Blinking in a daze, you turn to your left and right and see Jungkook and YoungHo holding onto you, wearing similarly concerned expressions on their faces.

“Well thank god I have the two of you to save me from banging up my face, haha!” A hiccup leaves your lips, but soon turns into a giddy giggle, followed by more hiccups. At this point, you don’t have enough sober left in you to even think about feeling embarrassed. You just grin stupidly, happy as can be.  

“Okay, no more drinks for you. I think it’s time to go home.” Jungkook enforces sternly, pulling you away from the bar and consequently out of YoungHo’s grip as well. The event must really be taking off now because it’s much more difficult to hear his voice over the pulsating bass and rowdy cheering than before. In the distance you see a circle of people cheering on a group of break dancers who are spinning around on the floor and showing off their fancy, intricate dance moves. More and more people are squeezed onto the dance floor now, swaying their bodies to the music in one massive clump of body heat and sweat, the beat and blanket of intoxication fully taking control of the atmosphere. There’s just no way you’re can leave now, not when the party’s just getting started.

“No.” Jungkook says scoldingly, reading your mind before you can even think of protesting. “I already know what you’re thinking. Trust me, you’re gonna thank me tomorrow when you get a full night’s sleep and your hangover is ten times better than it would’ve been.”

“But Jeonnie,” You whine unapologetically, giving him an annoyed pout. “Just because you want to go home doesn’t mean I want to go home yet. Some of us just want to live our lives, you party pooper!” You swing your hand at his chest but completely miss, stumbling forward when you hit nothing but air. This time YoungHo is quicker to react and his hands are on your waist before you even realize you’re falling, his grip steadying you on your feet.

“Actually, I think that might be a good idea, ___.” YoungHo agrees gently, trying hard not to smile at your sulky frown that just grows larger and cuter by the second. “Might be a good time to call it a night, gotta keep you from breaking an arm or something. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” In your drunk stupor, you still get startled when Jungkook suddenly steps forward, wearing an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before.

“No it’s all good, I’ll take her home.” Though he stands tall, his words come out in a nervous rush. The nervousness in his voice sounds so unlike him, so uncharacteristic of him. He must realize how hasty he sounded because he’s suddenly scratching the back of his neck, eyes flitting around awkwardly. “I mean, I’ve taken care of her drunk self plenty of times in the past, so I’m used to it. She can just be a real beast to deal with once the alcohol fully hits.”

Your face twists in offense, “Uh, excuse you Mr. Jeon-balaya-”

“No really, it’s fine,” YoungHo cuts in, stepping forward as well to match Jungkook’s stance. “I don’t mind at all. I’m completely sobered up and my car’s parked right up front. Besides,” he eyes Soobin who’s been standing there all along, quiet as a mouse, before shifting back to Jungkook, “you should take care of your girlfriend, no?”

Maybe it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you swear you see Jungkook’s hands ball up into fists at his side. He looks ticked, again, just like earlier when he first saw your outfit. But at the same time, your best friend, whom you can usually read like a book, faces the other man completely stone-faced, blank of any real emotion, and truthfully it comes across as a bit scary. This night just gets stranger and stranger by the minute. 

You think the unbearable awkward tension is back, but this time you can’t really tell for sure. They continue to stare at each other like there’s some sort of show down to be had, and it soon becomes too much for your inebriated brain to comprehend. All you know for sure is that just as Jungkook predicted, the alcohol is really starting to hit you now. You know you’re standing still but it feels like the world is tipping sideways on its axis just to throw you off balance. The strong bass hammers in your ear and shakes you from the inside out in a way that makes your stomach churn uneasily, like Mr. Vodka-Cran is about to take his revenge on you. For the first time that night, you agree with the both of them – maybe it is time to go home.

“Jungkook,” Soobin suddenly speaks up after not having said a single word in the last ten minutes, “just let the man take her home. You were planning on staying at my place tonight anyway, no?” You bring a hand to your head as if it’ll help alleviate the headache that’s starting to pound away at your skull. Why does Soobin sound upset too? Did you do something wrong? What the hell is going on? Where are your goddamn pajamas ‘cause you really need to pass the fuck out ASAP.

Sensing your growing discomfort, YoungHo reaches for your purse on the bar stool and slings it over your shoulder, looking down at you worriedly. “_­__­ really doesn’t look too good, I think we should head out. I’ll let her friend know we’re leaving, and I’ll be sure to get her home safe. It was nice meeting you both.” With a hand on the small of your back, he leads you away from a shell-shocked Jungkook and an equally upset-looking Soobin, moving forward through the hordes of people, not letting you turn back to look even once. You just hope all of this, whatever this was, will be cleared up by morning.  

- - - - -   

Things aren’t the same after that night at the Sound Bar.

Thankfully, you wake up the next day alone and in your own bed, the other half of it empty and fortunately unoccupied. You end up nursing a nasty hangover for the next two days after that night, your recovery weekend filled with lots of pedialyte, tylenol, and soup to keep your poor stomach at bay. It’s frustrating because no matter how hard you try to remember, that night is just one big drunken blur in your memory. Luckily Hari, who had been nearby at the time and witnessed it all go down, helps fill you in on everything that happened. You immediately spam Jungkook’s phone afterwards with apology texts, asking him to deliver your sincerest apologies to Soobin as well for being so rude and insane that night (you swear to never talk to Mr. Vodka-Cran ever again, that bastard). But strangely, there’s no reply. You vaguely remember him saying he was going to spend the night at Soobin’s place, so you figure he’s just busy spending his weekend with her. It’s no big deal, he’ll get back to you in a few days and things will soon be all settled and forgiven.

He eventually texts back to tell you it’s fine, but that he’s got a busy week ahead of him. The deadline for his demos are coming up, and apparently he’s super far behind and has a ton of shit to catch up on. You were hoping he’d be free so you’d be able to at least apologize to him one more time, in person. But you don’t get to see him, and Fat Friday doesn’t happen that week. Again, not the end of the world. He’s an adult, he’s got adult responsibilities to take care of, and it’s totally normal to not see your friend’s face for a week. Well, not normal for you, but you figure it’s normal in general.

The following week, Jungkook says he’s still swamped with work. You tell him you’ll go to his place to keep him some company in his misery, promising not to distract him too much and even offering to bring take-out, which happens maybe once in a blue moon. But he declines your offer (he says no to take-out!) and insists he really needs to be alone and concentrate. Though his rejection leaves a slight sting, his reasons are understandable – the producer life isn’t an easy one and knowing how much of a perfectionist Jungkook is, that life is probably just that much more difficult for him. It’s a very reasonable excuse.

Before you know it, two weeks go by, and it’s onto week three. His text replies are becoming sparse and each successive one sounds less and less like him. His apologies are half-hearted at best and he repeatedly blames it on the stress he was dealing with. But he says the demos are finally in, and that he’s free for the next few weeks before he starts up on another project. You ignore the fact that he’s been acting off, your desire to see your best friend trumping his unusual behavior, and text him to get his “fat ass ready for wings and some Thor action, cuz it’s Fat Friday baby!” hoping deep down inside that he won’t turn you down again this week. But to your utter shock, he does, this time with the excuse of needing to tend to his very neglected girlfriend. Another slap of rejection. But it makes sense that if he didn’t have any time for his own girlfriend, then he definitely didn’t have time for you. Of course he’d want to spend quality time with her to make up for the time he was gone. Of course.

So in those three rather empty weeks, you fill your time in other ways. The day after meeting at the Sound Bar, YoungHo texts you to set up your pizza date. Instead of lounging around at home like you normally do with some superhero movie on Netflix and Jungkook hogging up majority of the sofa with his body, you spend the evening going to two different pizza places with YoungHo. It ends up being a nice first date, one which concludes with you reluctantly admitting that thin crust is actually pretty bomb too (but you still pledge your loyalty to deep dish forever). The conversation still flows nicely with him as you both continue to get to know more about one another. Turns out, YoungHo’s a friend of a friend of Namjoon’s and works as some fancy business manager for some even fancier big-shot business company in the city. Strangely enough, this new tidbit of information makes you instantly think of Jungkook, who in his college days, once passionately declared he’d rather die than be stuck at a boring office job for the rest of his life. He sure is a man of his word, seeing how he kept to it and now is doing what he truly loves to do – producing and making music.

The second week, YoungHo surprises you by taking you to see Hamilton, the musical. Apparently, his company offers discount prices on certain events like musicals, and he managed to get seats in the orchestra pit for dirt cheap. He was worried it’d be too fancy and serious for the third date, but you’re just thrilled that you finally get to see the musical in real life, rather than just listening to the soundtrack on Spotify on repeat and creating an imaginary musical inside your head. The show ends up being even more amazing than you could ever describe with words. The songs, the dialogue, the characters – it’s a night that will be forever embedded in your memories. You know you just have to take Jungkook to see it the next time the Hamilton crew is back in town – you know he would love it just as much as you did.

The third week you offer to make YoungHo dinner at your apartment for date five, to change things up a little. He’s been so generous and proactive with planning all the previous dates, you feel like it’s the least you can do to show some effort on your part. So you invite him over and prepare a fancy steak and roasted vegetable dinner that you copped off a Tasty recipe. After dinner, you turn on the Hamilton soundtrack as YoungHo pours out two glasses of wine and continues the conversation about favorite childhood memories. He sits up properly on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other as he animatedly reminisces about the time he accidentally called the fire department thinking he was calling his mom. You smile and nod at his story and make sure to laugh at the right times, but for some reason, you can’t help but think about how he’s sitting. It’s an odd thought to have, but it bothers you throughout the night – it just looks too proper, too upright. If Jungkook were here, you think, he’d be sprawled out all over your couch, legs and arms hanging over the edges and you’d have to shove him off or prop his feet up on your lap just so you could sit. Then you’d make a comment about his feet smelling like a dead animal and he’d pounce on you and tickle you until you’re breathless and admitting surrender. But that’s if Jungkook were here. He hasn’t been here in weeks.

The days, hours, and minutes, crawl by at a snail pace until it’s finally week four since you’ve seen Jungkook. Now, there’s just – nothing. No legit or even half-assed excuses to explain for his prolonged absence. It seems like he’s even given up replying to your texts, seeing as though you were left on read three days ago.

You start to think that maybe this is just what it feels like to grow up. That adult friendships are just starkly different from younger ones, where you have all the care-free time in the world to hang out and talk and do nothing together. Maybe this is how adult friends end up becoming more distant from each other. Life starts to demand too much, significant others are put at the higher end of the priority list, and something has to suffer for the new change in the hierarchy. If that’s the case and that’s what this is, then you conclude that being an adult sucks, and you want no part of it anymore.

You don’t even realize you’re lost in your own thoughts until YoungHo says your name, snapping you out of it and back to reality. He was in the middle of explaining what was going on in the baseball game you two were watching at his place when you started to space out, traveling down the sad, dark rabbit hole you hate to admit you’ve kind of been living in for the past month. Now that your head is out of the clouds, you wince at the sight of the baseball game on the TV. Jungkook loves baseball. You wonder if he’s out there somewhere watching this game too.

The TV suddenly goes black. Youngho’s hand lowers the remote control onto the coffee table before he turns to you, one leg crossed over the only, polite and proper as usual. You can already tell by the look on his face that he has a question on his lips, ready to fire away.

“What’s been going on with you lately, ___?”

You blink a couple of times, not liking where this conversation is going. “What do you mean? Nothing’s up.” Even you don’t think your words sound convincing to your own ears.

YoungHo sighs. “These past few dates, I’ve caught you staring off into space multiple times, looking so sad and out of it.” He furrows his brows in concern. “Do you not even realize it yourself?”

You bite your lower lip. You know you’ve been feeling a bit gloomy and really out of it these last few weeks, you just didn’t realize you were blanking out that often – especially in front of YoungHo. And even if you were, you thought you were at least hiding it well. Guess not.

“Alright,” He shifts to sit closer to you, folding his hands in his lap, “Tell me what’s really going on.”

You almost laugh at that because frankly, you don’t know what’s going on yourself. Work’s been the same, you’ve been sleeping alright – not as soundly as normal but getting enough to function – and maybe your diet has been a little cleaner now that you haven’t had any greasy take-out food for the last month, but honestly that’s the biggest recent change you can think of – Jungkook’s absence. Just the thought of him makes your heart twinge. You miss Jungkook’s stupid face so much, the thought of him and his stupid voice and his stupid comments and his stupid presence have had you tossing and turning at night for the past few weeks. Every time your phone rings, every time you crave take-out or come home from work and just want to pass out on the sofa with a movie, you automatically think of him and wonder how he’s doing, if he’s doing okay, if he got enough sleep while pulling his hair out over deadlines – you wonder if he even remembers you exist anymore.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily to block out the pain. “I- I really don’t know, honest.” You admit the half of the truth, because you really aren’ts sure what to make of these thoughts and feelings you have for your best friend yourself. But it’s like YoungHo can read your mind, or maybe, you’re just that easy to read.

“It’s Jungkook, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you look up at him, lips parted to match your expression. “W-what?”

“___, you can’t fool me.” YoungHo sighs again, looking obviously frustrated, but he somehow manages to maintain a level tone, and his eyes look gentle as ever. “Ever since our first date, you haven’t been able to stop talking about him. Jungkook this, Jungkook that – it was never ending. I know you two are best friends and all, but honestly I was shocked when all you would do is talk about your male best friend ninety-five percent of the time even while on a date with another man.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze softening. “Not to mention you just look so down nowadays, I figured it must have something to do with him.”

Your eyes are still saucer-wide as YoungHo searches them carefully, his expression sullen. The way he does it is scarily similar to how Jungkook does it. Maybe this whole time you were wrong and Jungkook was actually the one who could always read you like a book, and not the other way around. But like your best friend, YoungHo seems to find whatever answer he needs as he inhales, the sound a bit shaky, as if to compose himself for what he’s about to say next.

“You love him, don’t you?”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question. In fact, the way he says it makes it sound like it’s so obvious, like hey the sky is blue, dogs are cute, you love Jungkook. It rolls off the tip of his tongue like a cold, hard fact rather than just a mere hypothesis that needs further testing. It shakes you at your core and makes your head spin, and the confusion is simply overwhelming.

It is an obvious fact that you love Jungkook – he’s your best friend, the one who’s been by your side for so many years now and knows you better than anyone else, even more than Hari or your own parents. He knows what makes you tick, and then he knows what really makes you tick and goes the extra length to make sure no one ever gets to that point with you, including himself. He always knows just the words to say to comfort you, or just the joke to crack to lighten up the mood and make you smile. Without fail he’s like your giant Care Bear, just maybe less fuzzy wuzzy up front. He’s dealt with drunk you, post-break-up-crying-over-ice-cream-you, low self confidence you, lost in life you, all the parts of you that you didn’t even want to bother with – Jungkook embraced them all. He’s been the most stable constant in your life. Yet in the past, you never really considered him in a romantic way, mostly due to the awkward start you two had and how long it took to get over that hill. And even after you did, then you started dating your college boyfriend. There was no time to even think about looking at him in that way – so you never did.

But YoungHo’s words ring unmistakably loud and clear in your ears, and suddenly there’s so much pulling and pushing of your emotions happening all at once. It’s like the boulder of sorrow weighing on your heart lightens up only to hang down even heavier now after hearing his words, like a fog has lifted to unveil your true feelings while your heart still runs around in circles, frantically lost, so confused and caught off guard. His words are a real sucker punch to the gut that you didn’t see coming, one that leaves you breathless, because never did you imagine that this would be the issue you would have with Jungkook. Arguing over what to get for take-out? Of course. Bickering over who the better looking person is? All the time. Cussing one another out in Mario Kart? A regular occurrence. But falling in love with your best friend? Never in your dreams.

You clench your hands into fists on top of your thighs. It almost feels like you’re going to cry for some reason, maybe from just feeling overwhelmed by it all. But whether they’d be tears of joy or frustration, you have no clue. It just doesn’t make sense. You can’t just wake up one morning and suddenly love your best friend in a completely different way, it doesn’t work like that. But the more you think about it, the more you realize it didn’t happen overnight – none of this did. No, all those times he let you cry on his shoulder, whether it was because of your college boyfriend or because of a bad grade, all those moments he paused his video games just to talk with you about life, about nothing, til the wee hours of the morning, all those times he fought with you for the last crab rangoon like his life depended on it, only to give in and let you have it in the end – it’s in all these little moments that you didn’t realize you were slowly falling for the boy with the doe eyes, the smart mouth, and a heart of pure gold.

YoungHo is right – you are completely and undeniably in love with Jungkook.

These last four weeks have been hell, missing Jungkook so much more than you ever thought you would. The feeling is ten times worse than that one time junior year, when he went to a music camp for two weeks in the mountains with no phone service or wifi signal. You koala-ed him for nearly a week after he came back and demanded he never lose contact with you for that long ever again. This time is definitely much worse. This time, his absence had been constantly gnawing at you – a bitter, lonely, slow spreading infection eating away at your insides bit by bit, eventually leaving a gaping hole that wouldn’t be easy to patch up. It’s strange because the more time passed without his presence and the more you saw YoungHo’s face instead, the more often Jungkook’s would pop up in your head, as if to torture you even more in your misery. But now it all makes sense why that was happening.

Even in this very moment, you still miss those big, brown, doe eyes of his with all your heart, and the way his nose wrinkles adorably when he laughs or smiles, along with that brilliant smile itself– seriously, when was the last time you even saw the light? You miss the sight of his big hoodie clad figure splayed out on your couch and being able to banter with him and make him snort with the ridiculousness that spews from your mouth, you miss calling him names and immediately getting insulted back. You miss having his head or even his feet on your lap with Hulk playing in the background. You miss him so much, it hurts.

So much that you finally decide that enough is enough.  

“YoungHo,” You begin after who knows how long, your voice sounding more stable now. “I think I- I need to go.” Too busy filtering through the complicated web of thoughts and emotions, you didn’t even notice the way YoungHo’s expression completely changed since the start of the night until now. His expression is soft but there’s a sense of solemn acknowledgment in his eyes, and you can just feel his disappointment, the weight of reality sinking down on his shoulders. But his lips pull up into a somber smile as he stands up from the sofa and watches you follow his motion, your head hung low in shame.

“I’m so sorry, I’m a horrible person,” You blubber, feeling genuinely guilty, “I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much of your time and efforts and that I’m dumb as fuck and didn’t realize this sooner to avoid all this unnecessary misery. But I just want you to know that I had an amazing time hanging out with you. You’re an awesome guy, YoungHo, and I mean no bullshit when I say that I hope we can stay friends.” You find the courage to look up and directly into his eyes, eyes glistening with remorse. “I really mean that with all of my heart.”

He offers you a smile and it’s small, but to your relief, it’s genuine, and that helps to ease the guilt a little. “Whenever you’re craving thin crust, I’m always just a call away.” He cocks his head towards the door, “Now get out of here and stop being miserable already. Go, before I change my mind.”

You stand on your tiptoes to leave a light peck to his cheek, giving his arm a squeeze before you’re out the door, rushing towards the elevators while fumbling around with your phone to call an uber.

Jungkook may be busy and have more important people and things to tend to, but that doesn’t change the fact that that bastard neglected you and your friendship for an entire month now, that just the thought of him still makes your stomach churn with something miserable and painfully empty, though it feels different in the light of these new feelings you’ve discovered. But at this point, your feelings don’t even matter. And screw all of this “normal progression of adult friendships” crap. All you know is that no matter how you feel, no matter how he feels about you, in the end, you just want your best friend back – you need Jungkook back in your life.

- - - - -   

[7:34PM] You: joon

[7:34PM] You: where the hell has jeon been lately?

[7:35PM] You: bugger won’t reply to my texts and i rly need to talk to him

[7:36PM] Joonie: uhh, lately?

[7:36PM] Joonie: at home

[7:37PM] Joonie: playing overwatch

[7:39PM] You: ……

[7:40PM] You: what

[7:40PM] You: the actual

[7:40PM] You: fuck

[7:42PM] Joonie: what?

[7:44PM] You: for the last 4 weeks

[7:44PM] You: i thought he was busy dying over his demos and hanging out w/ soobin

[7:44PM] You: but he’s been ditching me for OVERWATCH?

[7:46PM] Joonie: well he was dying

[7:47PM] Joonie: he just turned in his demos not too long ago

[7:48PM] You: i’m gonna kick his sorry ass

[7:50PM] Joonie: wait

[7:52PM] You: what

[7:53PM] Joonie: you mean you don’t know?

[7:54PM] Joonie: jungkook didn’t tell you?

[7:55PM] You: ugh what now

[7:56PM] Joonie: dude

[7:58PM] Joonie: jungkook and soobin broke up like a month ago

- - - - -   

“Jungkook!” A breathless shout leaves your lips as you barge through your best friend’s bedroom door, flailing it open and simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of the owner of said bedroom. His hunched figure at the desk jumps up and whirls around at the sound of your voice as his headphones slide off one ear haphazardly.

“Holy Widowmaker, yes hi, hello, shit you scared me.” He exhales all in one breath, eyes still enlarged and mouth hanging slightly ajar. Judging by the look of surprise bordering sheer terror on his face, he definitely wasn’t expecting you. But then again, he doesn’t look like he was expecting anyone, really. He’s wearing a black hoodie that’s one size too big for him and matching colored basketball shorts, the oversized hood pulled up over mussed chestnut hair, and it honestly looks like he hasn’t moved to shower, change, or just move at all. But he still somehow looks so good like that, bits of his wavy hair falling into those warm hazelnut eyes, plump lips parted slightly – so unfairly and effortlessly handsome. It’s a mystery how you faced this man for so many years and somehow remained immune to his gorgeous looks alone (well, as long as he was fully clothed).  

“Wow,” You manage to get out between rapid breaths from quite literally running straight to Jungkook’s apartment from YoungHo’s place. You glance at his computer monitor before focusing back on him. “You really are playing Overwatch.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “Uh, why yes, I am?”

The urge to smack him for giving such a lame and frustratingly obvious answer is strong, but since he doesn’t understand the context from which you state this, you decide to spare him from your wrath for the time being, putting away the fists of fury for now as you march over to where he’s sitting in his fancy black and red, almost half cocoon-shaped gaming chair.

“How are you Jungkook? How’ve you been lately?” The questions roll off your tongue icily, eyes narrowing into slits that are meant to be intimidating, but it doesn’t look like it does all that much to Jungkook. From the way his eyes are still bulging out comically, it seems he still hasn’t fully gotten over the shock from your grand entrance as he mumbles a dazed “uh alright, how ‘bout you?” under his breath.

“Oh good, I’m glad, just so glad.” Sarcasm drips from your voice, and it’s hard to keep it from shaking. “And me? Oh well I’m just peachy – feeling fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He queries, crinkling his nose in disagreement and looking too cute for his own good, “‘cause you sure as hell don’t sound or look like it.”

“Oh no, really, I’m just dandy!” Hands on your hips, you raise a brow at him and click your tongue once, “I’m just thrilled to see my best friend again after he avoided me for four weeks straight without any solid explanation as to why. It’s nice to see you’re still alive and kicking virtual ass, that’s all.” Slowly slipping his headphones off and setting them besides his mouse on the desk, Jungkook hesitantly rises to his feet, looking guilty, apologetic, but also slightly frustrated as he approaches you. He chooses to stand a few feet away, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifts his gaze to the floor. You can just feel this new barrier separating the two of you, and that realization hurts, especially since you still have no idea why he’s been acting so damn weird around you lately.

His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes flitting around nervously as he contemplates what to say, how to explain the mess that was the last four weeks in order for it to make sense to you. But you’ll wait as long as it takes to hear him out and to resolve this issue. You’ve already waited four weeks, what’s another couple of seconds, minutes, or hours more? What else do you have left to lose?

You decide to help him out, though. You’re not sure it’s the best move to make, but you know it’ll get the job done and get the ball rolling for sure. So you bite the bullet and go for it, your voice much quieter and timid than before.

“How- how have you and Soobin been doing?”

It goes completely silent in the room safe for the almost inaudible sound of breathing and your heart beat pounding against your ear drums; besides that, it’s so quiet you would probably be able to hear a pin drop if one did. A thick tension begins to cloud the air that lies between you two as you wait for him to answer, for him to finally admit that he’s been lying, for him to stop with the bullshit and tell you what’s really going on with him. And after a few more excruciating moments, you begin to see him come around. It starts with how he squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his lower lip even harder, staying like that for a few moments, the regret so evident in his expression. He knows he’s been caught red handed – that there’s no more escaping this conversation.

“Who told you?” Jungkook finally grits out, a low murmur under his breath as he trains his sights on the floor boards.

“Well, not you, that’s for sure.” You answer, the soft tone of your voice contrasting the sting that accompanies that comment. “Since you weren’t replying to my texts, I asked Namjoon about where the hell you’ve been lately, and he just suddenly dropped the bomb on me.” When all he does is continue to stare at the floor some more, you sigh, trying to cover up the way your lip quivers. You hate this weird awkwardness between you, and you want nothing more than for things to be okay again between you two – it’s driving you absolutely insane.

“What’s been going on these past few weeks, Jungkook?” You push on, silently begging for him to just give in already.

“___, I,” Jungkook stutters, raking a hand through his hair, the movement pushing his hoodie off his head to fully reveal his face. When the dim light from the lamp hits his face, only then do you realize just how haggard he looks. It’s almost like he hasn’t been getting very good sleep, much like yourself this past month. “I’ve just been… really busy.”

“Wrong answer, try again.” You refuse to lose to his stubbornness, not when you’ve come this far, not when things have escalated this much, not when your friendship feels like its dangling on its last fraying thread. He’s stubborn, but you’re a Taurus, and you are hell-bent on getting answers out of him, even if it means just standing there staring at him all night. You need to break down this new all he’s built up against you – it’s all you can think to do to get your best friend back.

Jungkook must sense your unwillingness to back down because he suddenly runs a hand down his face, a heavy sigh resonating from his chest. He knows this is all unavoidable – that now’s the time to lay it all out on the table. So he does, and nothing can prepare you for what he’s about to say.

“I was scared.”

Not expecting that answer at all, your brows furrow together in concern, and you feel your hands itching to just reach out and hold Jungkook, who can’t seem to lift his head and for once just looks so small. “Scared? Of what?”

“I, I thought I had more time,” He peeks out from under his eyelashes, lips forming a grim line, “more time left with you.”

Confusion fills your expression. “You make it sound like I’m dying and only have a few days left to live or something. What do you mean you thought you had more time?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. It’s obvious that bringing all of his thoughts and feelings to the surface is proving to be a lot harder than it may seem. His hands keep curling into fists and unfurling over and over, the movement full of anxiety and tension. But then to your relief he finally speaks, breaking the silence with his quiet confession.

“For so many years, it’s just been me and you, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He starts off, voice soft and hesitant. “Even after college, we still somehow made it a routine to see each other at least what, twice a week? And then somehow Fat Fridays became a thing, our thing, and just having you by my side became enough for me. That’s all I ever needed.” His expression twists into one of distress, his brows knitting together, “Then all of a sudden, Hari and Tae convince you to start searching for a boyfriend to help with your quarter life crisis, and before I can even blink, you’re off on your first blind date who ends up being some dude that doesn’t know how to shut up to save his life.” You cringe inwardly at the thought of Date #1, doing your best to not let it show on your face for fear of interrupting Jungkook’s flow. Luckily he doesn’t seem to notice it and continues on, taking a cautious step towards you 

“So what choice did I have left? I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I somehow ended up downloading a couple of those dating apps you were using and made my own profile. And as you know, that’s how I met Soobin.” Jungkook smiles sadly, scoffing quietly to himself. “I – I had to fill the void somehow. And she seemed cool, liked anime, and she was pretty so I figured, why not give it a shot? If you were out there giving all those losers a chance, I might as well do the same.”

“Wait,” You interrupt him, pinching the bridge of your nose in confusion, “so you only dated Soobin because I was dating other guys?” He nods solemnly, shame filling his expression. “But why? Just because you thought I wouldn’t have time for you anymore?” Heart clenching inside your chest, you reach out to take a hold of his hand, “Jeon, you should’ve talked to me about this instead of avoiding me like the plague. You need to know that no matter what, I will always have time for you. You’re my best friend, and there’s no one else I can do Fat Fridays with – there is always time for you in my life.”

“No, that’s not it.” Jungkook interjects quietly, shoulders sagging like the energy is being sapped out of him. The sadness etched in his eyes make your heart sink even further – it makes you afraid to hear the rest of what he has to say.

He inhales deeply, involuntarily tightening his grip on your hand. “I was always afraid it’d happen one day, losing you to another guy. But honestly, I thought I still had time. When your first few online dates flopped, I was so relieved because it still meant I had time left with you. But then,” He exhales, his expression hardening slightly, “this YoungHo guy comes out of nowhere and sweeps you off your feet, makes you laugh and looks at you like he’s hit the jackpot and it just made me feel sick to the stomach. Then he offers to take you home,” Jungkook lets out a short laugh, the sound incredulous and wounded at the edges, “and that was the cherry on top. In that moment, I didn’t care if Soobin was there, I didn’t even care that she was my girlfriend at the time, as horrible as that may sound – all I knew was that some other guy was taking you home, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“It felt like all of my worst nightmares were coming true. You looked like you were so into him, and he looked just as smitten with you, and when he left with you that night, I thought ‘wow, this is it.’” Jungkook closes his eyes briefly in anguish, as if just saying the words themselves is painful for him. “I thought ‘this is how I lose her – this is how I officially run out of time with the one girl I need in my life. I’m such a coward for not saying something sooner, for not taking the risk and just going for it. This – this is it.’”

Jungkook slowly looks up to meet your eyes, watching as tears gather at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. All this time, your best friend was fighting in a silent battle against his fears and insecurities, and the worst part is that those fears and insecurities involved you. You were so dumb and blind and really had no idea this is what was happening to him this whole time. But it’s all starting to make sense now. Why he was so upset that night at the Sound Bar. Why he was making up excuses to avoid you. Why he’s been hiding for the last month – it was to avoid having this very conversation. He thinks this is the last night he’ll ever have with you.

“That night, I went back to Soobin’s place and man, she let me have it.” Jungkook chuckles, the sound not happy in the least bit. “She was pissed, and rightly so. She told me she didn’t get why I was even dating her in the first place when it was obvious that all I cared about was you.” Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Jungkook steps closer so that now, finally, his toes line up with yours, his body towering over you and dark eyes searching yours intently, as you take in his scent that smells like home, and it helps to ease the sharp sting in your heart a little. His other hand finds yours so that he’s holding them both, so gently within his palms, thumbs tracing your knuckles gently, affectionately.

“If you don’t get it by now, even after all I’ve said, then you’re a real idiot.” Jungkook jokes lightly, but his muscles are tense and shoulders hang heavily in stark contrast to his words. “But you’re also a moron for not realizing that I’ve been in love with you ever since you kicked my ass in Mario Kart freshman year of college.”

It took you all these years, a quarter-life-crisis, several horrible blind dates, and even a potential boyfriend to get your eyes to finally open and truly see what Jungkook has just confirmed for you. It’s just that when someone is by your side that often, that regularly, it becomes natural to have them there, to have their presence nearby almost at all times and it’s so nice not having to question it. It’s so easy to get comfortable and not consider any other ideas or feelings because why do that when what you’ve got is already so good? Why venture into dangerous territory when life is great in the safe zone? But that’s exactly what Jungkook did. He embraced those very ideas and feelings and kept them bottled up and neatly tucked away all these years, knowing what you two had was so good, knowing it wasn’t worth risking the friendship you two had built up and nurtured over time. He never pushed his feelings onto you, or held you back from anything just because he felt a certain way about you. All he did was stay by your side the entire time, protecting you, silently loving you and figuring out life with you every step of the way. It’s always been Jungkook – it’s always been him.

“You know, you’re gonna need to thank YoungHo after this.” You mutter after a brief and tense silence, a tear escaping to trickle down your cheek.

Jungkook, who still has worry and stress scribbled all over his face, visibly recoils at the sound of the name of the man who was once after your heart as well. “And why would I ever need to do that?”

Not letting another moment go to waste, you suddenly perch up onto the tips of your toes, letting go of Jungkook’s hands to cup his cheeks and press your lips against his. Hands snaking through soft, wavy locks, you press yourself further into his plush petal lips, moving your mouth gently against his as he remains frozen in place. It takes him a few seconds to react, and in those few moments you can imagine what he must look like – shell-shocked doe eyes, eyebrows raised in astonishment because is his best friend really kissing him right now? But then slowly he begins to melt into your touch, brushing against your flesh hesitantly, as if he can’t believe this is all happening, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you flush against his chest. You capture his top lip between the two of yours and gently suckle on it for a moment as if to reassure him that this is real and that it’s all okay now. He seems to take the hint because then he’s suddenly sliding a hand up your sides to cradle your head, lips fervently chasing after yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip, begging to be let in. With a small moan, you allow him to lick into your mouth, the wet muscle hurriedly fighting for dominance with yours in a way that makes heat pool in your lower abdomen.

You never knew it would feel so right to kiss Jungkook like this, to feel him moan against your skin and graze his warm hands all along the curves of your body. The more accustomed you become to his touch, the more you want him – the more you crave him. But before it can get any more heated, he slows his movements before pulling away, slightly breathless, more strands of hair scattered messily on his forehead to frame his gorgeous face, the stupid stupid face you’ve missed with your entire being.

“Please say it.” Jungkook breathes out, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes dark and dripping with want. “Before we move on, before anything else happens I just- I need to hear you say it.” Feeling his hot breaths fan against your skin, onyx eyes fixated on yours, it’s in this moment that you realize you would do anything for this man. That even though he gazes at you like you’ve got galaxies in your eyes, he’s the one who owns every inch of your stubborn and stupidly blind heart. You don’t blame him for wanting, no, needing, solid affirmation after everything he’s been through, after everything the both of you have endured. And you yourself don’t want to hold back any longer either. But despite how overwhelmed you are with emotion, a playful grin twitches at the corners of your lips. Because this is still Jungkook you’re dealing with here – and you plan on dealing with him the way you would any other day.

“I…” You stutter, watching Jungkook’s eyes widen with anticipation as you utter the words he’s been waiting for years to hear.

“I love Park SeoJoon.”

You make the declaration playfully, unable to contain the wide smile that fully spreads across your face. There’s just no other way you could ever imagine this moment playing out. And to your delight, Jungkook growls at this and presses your body tightly against him, causing a laugh to slip past your lips. It feels so euphoric to finally be able to actually laugh and joke like this after spending these past few dismal weeks without your best friend – without the love of your life.

“Don’t make me make you say it.” His threat is empty, and it shows in the way he leans his forehead against yours, eyes crinkled at the corners and twinkling brightly even in the dimly lit room. And the way he looks at you has the words falling from your lips before you can even think to say them.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook, more than just a friend. I love you so much more than just that.” Your cheeks feel like they’re going to split from how much you’re smiling. “And I’m sorry it took me a whole ninety-eight light years to realize it. I’m the village idiot.”

Jungkook turns his head to snort and you expect him to say something sassy back like he usually does, but instead he just beams with a radiant glow you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, or on anyone else, for that matter. He gazes at you like a man who, after endlessly searching far and wide for miles and years on end, has finally met the end of his sufferings and is being rewarded for his hardship – like a man who has finally returned to his home.

Completely satisfied with your answer, Jungkook pulls you back into his embrace, the shape of his lips immediately molding to fit yours. He tastes sweet with a hint of bitter saltiness from the one or two tears that escape as you close your eyes to meet his kiss with your own, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. These are tears of relief and joy – a sign that everything is going to be okay from now on.

Suddenly you jump up and hook your legs around his waist, and he lets out a small grunt from your unexpected attack, but he reacts quickly and catches you with no effort required, his hands immediately finding and supporting your bottom as he leans back in to kiss you, caressing your lips with his own like he just can’t get enough of you.

“Are- are you okay with this?” Jungkook murmurs between kisses, giving your ass a tentative squeeze, to which you just sigh into his lips, giving him a small nod before you reclaim his mouth. With a kiss to match every step he takes, Jungkook carries you to his bed before gingerly laying you back, his lips still attached to yours, only parting to trail kisses along your jaw and up the column of your neck until he finds a sweet spot right behind your ear. The feeling of his lips gently nipping at the sensitive area there has you arching up into his chest, your fingers finding their way under his shirt to stroke up and down the skin of his back in a light, feathery motion.

“You really, really have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Jungkook whispers against your skin, catching your earlobe between his teeth, “How long I’ve wanted you.”

“Jungkook,” His name comes out in an airy breath, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his hands exploring your body, gently skimming down your sides and eventually lifting the hem of your shirt.

“Mmm, babe.” His hands slip beneath the fabric to caress the skin of your torso just beneath the swell of your breasts, head lifting from the crook of your neck to meet your eyes, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am allowed to call you that now without getting beaten up, right?”

“Jeon, if you don’t hurry up and strip and get the show on the road already, I’m gonna do more than just beat you up, baby.” You snap jokingly, but it’s impossible to ignore the need and impatience clearly embedded in your voice, your dark pupils blown out and full of lust. You hold back a giggle at how Jungkook’s eyes go saucer wide, a visible confirmation for how he interpreted your words as a flush quickly creeps up his cheeks as well, making him look so cute, it’s almost unbearable. But he immediately shuts down all those thoughts as he rises up to his knees to pull off his hoodie, tight abdominal and pectoral muscles greeting you as he stares down at you, his gaze potent and heavy.

“Holy cheezits.” You exhale, eyes hungrily raking over the honey-glazed skin and the intricate lines that make up the map of his toned body. This time, you have no shame in openly gawking at all the hard work and dedication that has obviously paid off for him as you admire the lean muscles of his shoulders and arms and the way two particular crevices at his hip bones create a sharply defined “V” shape, the lines narrowing and then disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. He seems to notice your lack of shame too and chuckles darkly at the sight of your wide eyes drinking him in.

“What, are you hungry or something?” He laughs, and the sound is like music to your ears after not having heard the beautiful sound for so long. “Like, do you really have to bring up food right before I’m about to make you forget everything but my name?”

You suck in a breath and just hold it there at his bold words, words you never thought you’d ever hear him say, especially to you. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He smiles before bending forward to leave a gentle kiss on your lips. “It’s whatever you want it to be, baby.”

That night, it felt like all hell broke loose, and the truth was finally brought to light. That life changing, very over-delayed night, Jungkook made sure to take his time with you. After several weeks apart and countless years of stuffing his emotions down his own throat, instead of rushing and letting it all end up as one big blur in his memory, he made sure to etch every kiss, every fluttering touch against your warm skin, every breathy moan and call of his name deep into his memory, to fully indulge in your warmth and the weight of your body against his. He teased you slowly with his touch, his mouth, the press of his body, while embedding the feeling of your smooth skin into his finger tips to remember forever, even though he knew he’d have many more opportunities to do so. He let himself come unraveled in front of you as you teased him right back, drawing your name from his lips in sweet low moans as you pleasured him and made his deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. You brought each other to your highs over and over again, kissing, caressing and exploring every single inch of skin available. Countless I love yous were pulled from your lips as he rocked into you, slowing down and then speeding up his pace, bringing you to the edge of your high only to bring you back down,  whispering even sweeter confessions and promises against your skin as you came for him, satiated him, and loved him with your entire existence.

At the wee hours of the morning, the two of you finally spent and tangled up in one another’s arms, breaths and heart beats matching and slowing to a sleepier pace, you pressed light kisses to his bare chest as he tucked your head under his chin, pulling you even closer against him, the feeling so indescribably perfect, like that’s where you have belonged the entire time. And in the few moments of consciousness before sleep took you captive for the night, Jungkook lightly stroking his fingers against your naked back, it dawned on you in that moment that what you’ve been missing the entire time was never an exciting, wild nightlife or having new hobbies to try out all the time. It wasn’t even going on dates or just having any old boyfriend and living life as the other young adults do. You realized that Jungkook’s always been the so called “missing piece” you felt you needed, even though he was always right there in front of your eyes all this time. He was just a piece of your puzzle of life that’s been sitting in the wrong spot – until now. It was him that you needed, and not just his friendship, not just his company, but his everything, Jungkook’s entire being – you just needed Jungkook.

With this in mind, sleep finally claimed you prisoner as you felt one more I love you whispered against your skin, a smile left on your lips as you slowly faded away into unconsciousness.

Being an adult wasn’t turning out to be so bad, not when you have everything you could ever need in your arms – not when you have Jungkook, your everything.

- - - - - 

[Loser’s club group chat]

Hari: ___ where are you?

Hari: why you won’t pick up

Hari: your apartments empty

Hari: AND WE’RE LATE FOR BRUNCHHH

Hari: srsly anyone know where she at?

Tae: let her be bruh, maybe she just got laid or something

Hari: why are you texting me i’m standing right next to you

Hari: and omg wait, could it be?

Yoongs: i can’t believe i had to sleep in the studio last night because of them

Joon: yall know i normally sleep like the dead but not last night holy shit

Tae: omg IT FINALLY HAPPENED

Tae: THE RED SEAAA

Hari: um excuse me

Hari: WHOS THEM???

Joon: PSA – jeon’s a very verbal lover

Joon: and a moaner

Joon: like a LOUD moaner

Hari: JEON??

Hari: LIKE ___ AND JEON??!!?

Hari: OR IS THAT JUST YOUNGHO’S NEW NICKNAME OR SOMETHING??

Hari: IT FINALLY HAPPENED??? WHAT THE FUCK????

Yoongs: seriously took em long enough

Yoongs: been eye fuckin each other for years now

Tae: HALLELUJAH FELIZ NAVIDAD YALL

Joon: so all it took was ___ going on a couple of blind dates huh

Joon: should’ve done this ages ago then

You: uhh

You: good morning everyone

You: i honestly

You: don’t even know what to say

JK: what can i say folks

JK: i tend to leave em speechless ;)

Hari: JOON

Hari: YOONGS

Hari: TAE AND I ARE COMING OVER LEAVE THE DOOR UNLOCKED

Hari: YOU HAVE A SHITTON OF EXPLAINING TO DO MISSY

Tae: don’t worry guys ill stall her

Tae: so you can get dressed and shit

Tae: or don’t. your choice ;)

JK: its all good

JK: ___ still has a lot of explaining to do for me as well

JK: we’re all waiting babe

Hari: BABE?!?!?!

Hari: omg i could cry i never thought i’d live to see this day come

You: ………

You: it’s gonna be a long day

#sorry guys irdk how to write smut #also dont know how i feel bout this sooo YOLO #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jeongguk scenario #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts texts #bts memes #bts twt #bts #jimin #taehyung #v #jhope #hoseok #yoongi #suga #namjoon #rm #seokjin #jin

[writerofthespiral]

The Machine

Author’s Note: So you know, I recently finished Pirate101 for the first time after getting back into it since I was like eight (and now I’m getting back into Wiz) and I must say I genuinely enjoyed it. I laughed a lot and cried some — it was great! The only thing I didn’t enjoy was the ending (I liked it, but I was just sad to see it end, ya know). So, I decided to write it from the p.o.v of my pirate — hope you enjoy! Comment down below!

Word Count: 2400

Trigger Warning: Blood, gore, asphyxiation

The time for the final battle had come upon Ingrid and her crew — to defeat Kane himself. She looked around the lower control room of The Machine, a strong sense of disgust running through her veins. Around her was smashed machinery, oil stains, and the twitching remains of masked automata on the gold and steel platform, some of which had fallen onto the cold, brown marble flooring below. But, that wasn’t where her attention lay.  

“After him Captain, for the Spiral!” El Toro exclaimed, a heroic smile beneath the bull’s white mask, but Ingrid barely noticed the bull.

She drowned out his voice as she descended the metal steps they previously climbed, her getas clicking against the floor. She stopped at the corpse of Gazpaccio, a sad old man killed by his own creation, his own child, Kane. But, could she blame the heartless monster for his actions?

Gazpaccio was the cause of all of this. The death of her parents, the need for a revolution to begin with, and the endangerment of the Spiral. All of this in the name of revenge against the Tortellini family. And of course, darkness bred darkness. It was only until his last days that he acted, wanting to give his son the heart he should’ve had to begin with. But, it was far too late.

Ingrid wanted to hate him for all the problems he’d caused, understanding how much it hurt to be born out of revenge. But, like her own parents, he had shown his creation love, and love was something Kane wasn’t capable of. Even without a proper heart, he never took the time to understand it — to try to feel it — for surely someone with a magnificent mind could learn to love. Even his chaotic creation, Phule, could love.

Either way, nobody should have to die as Gazpaccio did, nor should they be left to rot. Thus, in good conscience, Ingrid turned his body over, laying his arms across his chest.  She took off her headdress, clutching it to her chest and kneeling in prayer. She gently placed it on his chest and stood to her feet, a sorrowful look in her eyes. 

With that done, it was time to cover him. She took off her tattered robes, once a fine silk kimono from Mooshu colored black, white, and gold, now, worse for wear from combat. She never properly appreciated nor wore them as it was. And if they could give a man the peace he deserved, even for a fleeting moment, then she would do that for him. Though the sky pirate was used to death, and even able to revive the dead as a Witchdoctor, her mojo was nearly spent, not to mention his age making things more difficult. Besides, she could feel his tired soul reject life, and she would not raise the unwilling.

She felt a hand on her shoulder from her closest friend, if not father figure. He spoke in a gentle tone, “You tried your best, Dragonfly, the fault does not lie with you. We are at the end of our journey — let us not allow his death to be in vain.”

“But… Kan Po, isn’t it already in vain? He wanted to give his son a heart, to properly fix him, and that’s what we came for, isn’t it? Even if our main objective became saving the Spiral, that doesn’t take away from the original purpose, does it?”

“No, but, in a way, he would have died. Life is a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth; we would have killed off the evil in him in one way, Dragonfly, and now we will in another.”

She solemnly nodded in response. “Yes, I suppose. No mercy for a bastard.”

She took a moment to ready herself, checking to see if her chest was bound properly and that her hakama was aptly done. She wouldn’t want her pants to be too loose or come undone in the midst of combat. They hadn’t yet, but you could never be too sure.

‘You know,’ she thought to herself, observing her tan brown skin, ‘I never noticed how many scars I’ve gotten over all these years…’

She looked back up at the platform, Bonnie Anne motioning for her and Kan Po. “Come on, let’s go!” She yelled with urgency.

The young pirate nodded, rejoining the group with haste. This was it.

The crew rode in tense silence, stepping into the upper control room — the head of the near-destroyed Machine. The room was like a dome, decorated with silver and golden gears, and a map of the Spiral with magnifying glasses on the back wall. The green skies of Valencia were visible all around the crew from the glass, polluted by the smog of clockwork machinery. Above their heads was a strange laser-like contraption made from the ethereal purple crystals from the Isle Of Doom, which momentarily brought Ingrid’s attention to the ones kept in glass casings. And at the center of it all was Kane, his elites, and his marine pawns.

That’s when the young pirate took notice of the floor: it was a chessboard. All of this  —  her suffering, that of her crewmates, and that of the entire Spiral’s — was a game. His pursuit of perfection was just a game. With this realization, her doubts faded away. She had to end him.

“We’ve played a long chess game, you and I, and you’ve done far better than expected. But now it’s time I was rid of you. How about one final match? To be sporting, I’ll only use half my pieces — is that not generous?” Kane menacingly spoke.

“Deacon! Rooke! But how?” El Toro exclaimed in shock.

“Should’ve stayed dead,” Ingrid mumbled to herself, never one for words. She always was unnaturally quiet, even when her parents were alive. She didn’t like noise, nor did she enjoy parties or crowds. In fact, she found the rambunctious nature of the Unicorn nobles so unbearable that it took all of her will not to break down and cry. It was the main reason she stormed The Clock Works and The Machine without hesitation. 

Somehow, Valencian nobility was worse than Marleybonian nobility, and that’s saying a lot as her own mother was Marleybonian nobility. Ingrid could play diplomat, but wasn't completely socially literate. She knew better than anyone else that what she lacked in social skills, she more than made up for it with her combative abilities. Therefore, this battle had to be.

“They’re only machines. It was expensive to replace the children you destroyed, but I managed.” Kane stated. “Bishop, of course, you already know. Allow me to introduce Queen, greatest of my creations.”

“You flatter me, darling,” Queen spoke.

“Not at all. Kill them, my children. Kill them all.”

Thus, combat began. The Clockwork marines rapidly charged forward, striking with near-deadly accuracy. They were merely pawns, but could kill, and stab, and cut, and some of Ingrid's crew aren’t able to block or dodge as easily.

Ingrid focused her attention on Kane, her ruby red eyes widening in shock — he could teleport? Seeing as mojo was illegal by Armada standards, the fact that he had any was a surprise, and the fact that he could use it well was terrifying, especially because he was attempting to pick everyone off like flies…

Ingrid rushed over to Old Scratch, helping her fellow Witchdoctor strengthen their team and call upon the willing dead, creating a better chance for survival. Once finished, she jumped into the fray — she’d never been one to simply stand on the sides and cast spells like a Wizard. Her first target was Deacon; she hated him with her soul, so seeing him ‘live’ again… He wouldn’t live for long.

She took him by surprise like Kan Po had taught her to, summoning a mojo knife and slicing off his head. He’d already been damaged by Bonnie Anne’s spark gun, so he was an easy target.

El Toro, Contessa, Kan Po, Ratbeard, and Hawkules fought tooth and nail through hordes of Armada marines, facing Rooke, Bishop, and Queen. They faced bombs, clockwork traps, guns, and halberds head-on.

As the battle went on, neither side seemed to truly win. Bones, ectoplasm, oil, and Clockwork bodies filled the room. Most of Ingrid’s crew had fallen, and she could only hope they were knocked out and not dead. She’d seen Bonnie Anne subdued with spark guns, Mormo stabbed through, Ratbeard and Hawkules fall taking down Rooke, and El Toro hurt by one of Bishop’s traps. Kane’s army was no different, however, for all that remained standing was he and Queen. As for Ingrid, Contessa and Kan Po remained — everyone else was hurt or…

Ingrid didn’t have time to think about it; she focused on the fight. If this truly was only half of Kane’s pawns, then he needed to die, or everyone’s sacrifices would be in vain. Catbeard would surely scold her for that, and she wouldn't want Gracie's genius to be stamped out.

Ingrid looked to her still standing friends. They nodded at each other, knowing what had to be done. Ingrid used one of her abilities, soulreaver. Giant skeletal hands held Queen down, spirits attacking her as Contessa and Kan Po charged forward. But, the eloquent creation refused to go down so easily. With her dying 'breath,' she brought down Contessa, running her blade through the abdomen of the unicorn rebel.

Ingrid felt her heart sink at the sight of it, yet she continued to fight. "Just like the old times, eh? Just the two of us, Kan Po."

He nodded. "Let us finish our journey, Dragonfly."

She took a deep breath, sending a mojo blast towards Kane, magical lightning leaving her finger-tips. But to her dismay, he teleported away, and that's when she felt herself being shoved to the ground. She looked up in horror as she watched Kane slice through Kan Po's chest, bits of the goat's blood staining her clothing. He kicked the man's body aside, standing over the shocked pirate, tears in her eyes.

"Kan…P…" was all she could mumble before her staff was knocked away.

"Now that that's settled, it seems I've won," Kane spoke, holding his blade above the teen. "You really should have joined me — you and I were born out of vengeance; I could've used your prowess. You defeated Deacon, Bishop, and Rooke. Why, you even took Bishop's staff as a trophy. Too bad you've become obsolete."

He brought down his blade to finish the job, but at the last moment, the witch grabbed  Kan Po's staff, managing to block his attack and kick his weapon away. Before she was fully a Witchdoctor, she was a sickly runt who got by by fighting in the pits of Krokotopia — she could still fight. She was badly bruised and bleeding, but she killed herself to continue on. Her physical wounds would never match her emotional wounds.

She tackled Kane, spitting in his face. With venom, she spat, "I would never join you." She did her best to beat him with the staff, her mojo low. But it was no match, he was physically stronger than her, rather easily knocking it from her hands.

They tussled around in the heap of the dead and dying, but Kane overpowered her, freed himself from her grasp, and knocked her into one of the walls. The white-haired witch weakly attempted to get up, only to be kicked in the stomach and collapse. He grabbed her by the neck, violently shoving her into one of the crystal containers, broken glass penetrating her back as he tightened his grip, slowly suffocating her. She wanted to let out a scream, but couldn't breathe.

"Now, now, close your eyes and fall aslumber — eternally. I must perfect myself, then the Spiral. There is no place for people like you, so go ahead and die for me."

She felt her consciousness fading, her body slowly going into a state of shock. And in what she believed to be her final moments, she saw visions of her parents. She felt… Her mother's embrace, hearing a silent, yet sweet, "I love you" in her ear. Her father, however, she could not hear, and yet, she felt him just as strongly. His demonic will echoed through her — fight. She had to fight.

Her mother lost nearly everything she cared for, but she fought for what she wanted — demanded it. The deal Alison Voss made with the spirits, along with the sacrifices it took to bring back both husband and child, is the only reason why Ingrid Voss was alive. And in return, as the Witchdoctor had found along her journey, she was to face the leader of the Armada. Their stories were tied, and fates sealed, one way or another. Thus, she fought against her own body.

Her ruby eyes glew a deep red as she weakly brought Kane into her embrace, showing affection to the mind that never knew love.

"If you're trying to fight me, it won't work," he spat, "I'm almost done just let me-"

Her face was turning a deadly shade of blue, but she shook her head and cut him off, mumbling, "I… forgive… you…"

"Forgiveness I-" This time, he was cut off by his limbs locking against his will — his hubris was his undoing as Ingrid used her mojo and his against him. Even just a little drop was good enough for her.

"Let's… die… together…" she muttered, sending a powerful electric blast of mojo through the both of them. Her screams filled the room this time, pain running through her from electricity, burning, and broken glass.

"No...not like this. Not like this. I must not…!" he desperately exclaimed, as he fell backward, his systems overpowered by the surge in electricity. As he fell and died, his iron grip dissipated from Witchdoctor's throat.

Heavily wounded, she collapsed onto the ground and closed her eyes, a smile on her face — she won. She heard the silent, yet shaky breaths of her crewmates, and in her heart, she knew they would live. She knew she would live, for she was destined to grow old and see the Spiral change, and she would do it with them. They would sustain, thus she could rest.

#pirate101 #pitty #p101 #p101 fandom #p101 kane #pitty101 #pirate101 fandom #pirate101 Oc #Pirate101 Fanfiction #Okay so I hurt my child a little bit #maybe a lot #but hey she's alive lol

[danceworshipper]

Gracie Chiva - HPHM Profile [Redone]

(information is as of sixth year - same universe as Tessa and River)

Identity

Name: Gracie Tessa Chiva

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birthday: August 17th, 1973 at 3:28 am (leo)

Species: Human/Witch with altered DNA

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Ethnicity: White - German, English

Nationality: British

Residence: Chiva Manor, a heavily warded house in the wizarding part of the English countryside

Personality Type: ISFJ-T (the defender)

The Mage

Wand: 13 3/4 inches of rowan wood encasing a unicorn tail hair core, reasonably supple. The wand is a light color with intricate carvings on the handle and a small peridot sticking out of the front end. This is her only wand, as if her wand breaks she will die immediately. A few different people have put protective spells on it - the peridot is one of them, from Ollivander himself

Animagus: Osprey

Misc. Magical Abilities: Legilimens, very strong. Her Occlumency isn't as strong as it could be, but it's much stronger than Tessa's

Boggart Form: Tessa covered in bloody gashes, gagging and clearly dying

Riddikulus Form: the blood turning into fruit punch while Tessa whines about her shirt being stained

Amortentia (how she smells): Gracie would smell like citrus, poison, and strong wind

Amortentia (what she smells): She smells a mixture of pine trees, spearmint gum, and puffskein fur (Merula)

Patronus: Unicorn

Patronus Memory: the first time she and Tessa were ever allowed to go wandering in the woods on their own. They found a creek and spent the afternoon barefoot, eating berries and splashing each other

Mirror of Erised: Herself, truly happy and looking like she was never cursed

Specialized/Favorite Spells:

- Accio

- Crucio

- Sanguinem Non (stops bleeding, however intense)

- Depulso

- Gelida

Appearance

(picture made using the zepeto app)

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 118lbs

Physique: Skinny, slightly thinner waist than Tessa. Her strength comes more from magical ability than actual muscles

Eye Color: Unnaturally green

Hair Color: Bright white

Skin Tone: Deathly pale, has barely noticeable freckles around her nose

Body Modifications: Two piercings in each earlobe and a cartilage piercing in her left ear

Scarring: Small scars on knees from various childhood injuries, a thin line around her ankle from getting caught in a rope, and a small line on her right middle finger from a cooking incident

Inventory:

- Her wand, either gripped tightly in her hand or tucked in her waistband

- Her pocket knife, hidden in her robes/shorts

- About twenty Galleons

- An icy blue cracked marble to fidget with

Fashion: Gracie likes to look good, but also likes to be comfy. When not in her uniform, she's most likely wearing a thin sweater/shirt depending on the weather, and black skinny jeans or shorts. She frequently wears black fishnet tights, and black heeled ankle boots. Her hair is usually worn down. As for jewelry, she has a necklace with a gold key that unlocks a box full of Vance's childhood memories that he hid for her before he disappeared, mostly of the two of them. She also wears large gold hoops in each of the two piercings, and a gold stud in her cartilage. Makeup-wise she wears dark red lipstick, blush, and heavy dark eyeshadow and mascara. If she hadn't been cursed she might not wear any makeup at all, but as it is, she's insecure about how pale she is and wants to bring some color back to her face

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Affiliations/Organizations:

- Chiva Family

- Black Family

- R (seventh year)

Professions:

- Current student

- Future Dark Arts Professor at Durmstrang

- Future author

Hogwarts Information

Class Grades:

- Arithmancy: E

- Astronomy: O

- Care of Magical Creatures: O

- Charms: E

- Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

- Flying: O

- Herbology: E

- History of Magic: E

- Potions: O

- Transfiguration: O

Quidditch: Knows how to play, but is not on the team

Extracurriculars:

- Potions Club

- Dueling Club

- Tutor for a few select first year Slytherins, including Aiden

Favorite Professors:

- Professor McGonagall: Despite not being her Head of House, Gracie would much rather turn to McGonagall for advice than Snape. She appreciates McGonagall's teaching style, and her relative lack of prejudice about house/upbringing

- Madam Hooch: When Gracie was first cursed, Madam Hooch was the one to help her calm down and start to accept her changed appearance. Hooch's yellow eyes and whiteish hair are not common either, so the similarities and Hooch's successful life helped Gracie see that she would be okay

Least Favorite Professors:

- Professor Snape: Gracie has never liked her Head of House. Snape is cruel to many of her classmates, grades based on his own opinion of the student, and makes learning in the classroom nearly impossible

- Professor Dumbledore: In the beginning, she didn't mind him, but as the years went on and he proved to be more and more useless during dangerous times, Gracie lost all respect for him. The final straw was when he told her that none of this would have happened if she had left it alone, because she knew that this wasn't her fault and if not for her people would be dead (Redacted's death doesn't happen in my canon)

Relationships

Twin Sister: Tessa Gracie Chiva

- Tessa is younger by eight and a half minutes

- Despite them being the same age, Gracie feels much older and more mature than her sister

- Tessa quit everything to do with the vaults after defeating the second one in third year, so she hasn't seen the horrors that Gracie has

- As such, Gracie feels extremely protective to her sister and tries to always keep her safe, far away from any danger. This is part of why she runs away in seventh year

- Gracie hasn't told Tessa about her crazes and unnatural sadistic urges yet. Tessa finds out a little information shortly before Gracie disappears

- Gracie loves her sister more than anyone else. When they fight, she's always the first one to start crying. She would do anything to protect Tessa, whether it be suffer immense torture, die, anything

- She's also jealous of Tessa's relative innocence

Older Brother: Vance Riley Chiva

- He's five years older than the twins

- As a little girl, Gracie worshipped Vance. He was older and cool, and he spoiled her

- The news of Vance's disappearance shattered her heart, and when she found the key, she spent hours going through all of the memories using her mother's pensieve

- Gracie's main motivation to start looking for the vaults was to find Vance. After finding him and seeing how different he was, she stopped caring about him and only continued to protect Tessa and her friends

- The first spell Gracie learned outside of class was the sticking charm, which she used to stick the clasp of her necklace to the back of her neck. She doesn't undo the spell until the very end of sixth year, when she loses all hope of getting her brother back

- The love she once felt turns to hate fast, but she can't bring herself to throw the key away, so she gives it to Tessa

Younger Cousin: Aiden Carter Darkling

- Aiden is the son of Rachel Chiva, Jason's sister. Rachel and Aiden's father divorced while he was still young, but it was relatively amicable and he comes around for holidays

- Gracie tutors Aiden and a couple of his friends in Potions

- She's always had a liking for the kid. She sees a bit of herself in him, from before she was lost to the vaults

- They aren't the closest, but other than (some of) her immediate family, Aiden is the only family member Gracie doesn't hate

Mother: Clarissa Vanessa Black

- Clarissa passed on her Legilimency to her children

- Gracie's relationship with her mother is strained these days

- They're actually closer than they used to be, with Gracie's favorite parent having been her father as a kid

- Clarissa legally separates from Jason after his arrest, and once she's wiped her hands of him, she and Gracie get closer

- Gracie knows about her mother's girlfriend. Clarissa's upbringing made her too afraid to ever come out, but she's bisexual and began dating her childhood friend Margaret (again) after Jason was arrested

- Gracie also knows that Margaret's husband didn't die of illness, but she never tells anyone that Margaret poisoned him because she had good reason to

- The silent acknowledgement of "I know about you and you know I know but we won't mention it" is the main sense of closeness she and her mother have

- They'll never be as close as they should be, but Gracie does love her mother and her mother does love her

Father: Jason Harvey Chiva

- Similarly to Vance, Gracie loved her father a lot as a kid and looked up to him

- He was an Auror, and a good one. She would beg to visit his office with him and learn about cases

- Despite being pureblood and approving of the Death Eaters, Jason was loving toward his children and never brought up his past

- Jason began acting strangely after she was cursed, but Gracie ignored it

- All the love Gracie felt for her father vanished the day she watched him murder their family friend, a week before she turned thirteen

- After turning him in to his Auror partner, Thomas, they discovered that Jason had killed eleven people in his search to find out who cursed his daughter

- Thus began Gracie's horrible trust issues. Even Vance hadn't ruined her ability to trust completely, but after her father the only two options were trust completely, or not trust at all. Gracie has never trusted another authority figure since (and also has major daddy issues)

- Gracie kills Jason when he escapes from his transfer (she's twenty two). She hates herself for it, but not because it was her father - he deserved it. She's upset that she broke her promise to never kill anyone again after Rakepick (even though both were totally justified - Jason tried to kill Margaret and Rakepick tried to kill most of her friends)

Love Interest: Merula Snyde

- In first year Gracie hated Merula. Merula was mean to Gracie's new friends and was boastful about being the best even though she clearly wasn't, and it was obnoxious having to share a dorm with her

- In second year it gets a bit worse, but then it gets a bit better too. It gets to the point where they don't hate each other and can coexist peacefully, but they still dislike each other

- Then third year starts

- Gracie gets off the train, grabs her stuff, starts heading for the castle, and bumps into Merula

- Merula snaps at her

- Instead of being annoyed, however, Gracie is frozen staring into Merula's eyes with a jolt in her heart

- Well, shit

- Gracie spends that whole year conflicted about if it was actually a crush, or if it was just strange feelings from a strange situation, and eventually lands on being bisexual and indeed having a crush on this girl she used to hate.

- She knows she's bisexual and not a lesbian because she had a small crush on one of the boys in her neighborhood, but that fades pretty quickly after getting back to school

- In fourth year, it starts becoming more apparent that Merula shares her feelings

- Gracie takes a risk and asks her to the Celestial Ball, and Merula says yes

- She and Merula had a lot of fun at the ball, and Gracie's heart nearly exploded during the slow dance

- A week later, Rowan is pissed with the pining and rants about it to Ismelda of all people, who then tells Merula to ask Gracie out before she gets murdered

- Merula does, very hesitantly, and they have their first proper date a few days later. It's awkward and they're scared, but once they open up it's easy to tell everything is mutual

- They have their first kiss that summer while Merula is visiting Gracie

- Fifth year, the night before going into the Portrait Vault, Gracie and Merula are awake, terrified that they'll die the next day

- An impulsive decision leads them to the Room of Requirement (Tessa had found it by accident the year before) and they lose their virginity together

- They don't die, and surviving together brings them closer

- Sixth year problems arise

- Merula is losing her mind, trying to be independent and refusing to be at all affectionate in public, but still clinging to Gracie at night with nightmares

- Gracie also wants Rakepick's head to rot on a stake, but Merula is letting her anger control her and Gracie doesn't know how to help her

- When Gracie runs away in seventh year, Merula will go insane

- When Gracie comes back, Merula will punch her in the face and then hold her close and not let go for over an hour

Best Friend: Rowan Khanna

- Gracie met Rowan in Ollivander's. Rowan walked in just as Ollivander told Gracie her wand wood and Rowan excitedly declared that they had to be best friends

- Being young and relatively sheltered, Gracie said alright because she didn't know how friends really worked

- They did become very close pretty quickly

- They wrote each other letters every day until school started

- Rowan is the only one to know the full extent of Gracie's curse, because she forced it out of her

- Rowan can be pretty scary when she wants to be

- They both know things about the other that no one else does, and they can (and have) talked about everything, even extremely uncomfortable subjects

- Gracie is almost scared by Rowan's level of loyalty, but tries to show her the same

- Gracie mentioned being terrified to be cornered by Rakepick or someone else, so Rowan didn't leave her side at all for a week

- The next time Rowan said something about being afraid, Gracie did the same thing

- Rowan made Gracie teach her the blood healing spell in case Gracie ever can't come back from a craze in time

- The two of them are so close Merula was at one point pretty jealous, but she can recognize that they're just very close friends

Rival: Olivia Green

- The first time Gracie heard of Olivia was when Vance complained about her dating Duncan

- After learning about the vaults and Olivia's involvement with Vance and Duncan, Gracie was determined to find out what happened to her. It takes until seventh year to find out

- (this could all change depending on where Jam City takes the story, but this is where I'm going for now)

- Olivia joined R a year before Duncan died, two years before Vance got trapped in the Portrait. She knew how bad they were, but R was the only place she felt she could grow her power and protect what little she had left, so she faked her own death in order to not be caught by any professors or other authority

- Neither Vance nor Duncan know she's alive

- Over the years Olivia grew cold and ruthless, but she still has a small soft spot for her old friends

- Gracie tries to hate Olivia for everything she's done, but can't help but agree with her reasoning

- Olivia is the one who convinces Gracie to join up with R in seventh year, which is when they end up becoming good friends instead of rivals

School Rival: Diego Caplan

- Gracie hates this boy with everything she has

- He's a flirt with no shame and an ego stretching for miles

- Every time he duels her she makes sure to kick his ass extra hard

- She really doesn't like that he and Tessa are good friends because she thinks he has ulterior motives (he used to, but not anymore)

Enemy: Patricia Rakepick

- Gracie's lack of trust/respect for authority means that Rakepick being brought in for the vaults felt like a direct threat to her. As Rakepick recruited her, Bill, and Merula, Gracie tried to play nice but it's clear she hates the woman

- It's likely that if Bill hadn't knocked her wand out of her hand, Gracie would have killed Rakepick in the Portrait Vault

- It wasn't a craze. She was just furious

- Gracie is as determined as Merula to kill Rakepick (stupid canon mc too weak to murder)

- Joining R will be uncomfortable at first, because Rakepick will taunt her, but they'll learn to work together

- No matter how the game goes, Gracie's adventure with the vaults will end in killing Rakepick

Dormmates:

- Tessa Chiva

- Rowan Khanna

- Merula Snyde

- Ismelda Murk: they could be considered friends, but they aren't as close as they could be

- Liz Tuttle: Liz was close to both of the twins at first, but now is way closer to Tessa

Pets:

- Ruby, the family Crup

- Clara, Vance's toad

- Elaura, an owl

- Lemmy, a moke (he's more Tessa's pet really)

- a bunch of creatures in the Reserve that Tessa and Liz coparent, and Gracie tags along sometimes

Closest Canon Friends:

- Jae Kim: a year of spending hours together everyday will do wonders for a friendship

- Penny Haywood: they've been drifting apart, but they spend a lot of time together in the Potions Club

- Charlie Weasley: they were partnered for a Charms project in year two and kept hanging out all the time after it was done

- Olivia Green (while in R)

Closest Non-Canon Friends:

- Tessa Chiva (technically not canon because mc has no siblings besides the Jacob character)

- Rosalie Sonnenschein: a German model who is one year older and attends Durmstrang. First generation part Veela with a very strong natural allure, which she trains Gracie to resist once it becomes apparent that she's affected

- Justin Freed (while in R): a young man one year older than Olivia. He's mean but he's funny, and he helps Gracie get adjusted to the whole group. He's a bit too egotistical and slightly overprotective over Olivia and Gracie as younger women, even though they're both fully capable (and stronger than him)

(Storyline has to be in a different post because of tumblr's dumb text limit)

Future

Marriage and Children: Before the wedding, Gracie timidly approaches Margaret, who married Clarissa two years prior, and asks if they can take her name since neither Gracie nor Merula want to be associated with their fathers anymore. Margaret tears up and tells her of course they can. Gracie gets married to Merula at age twenty five, becoming Gracie and Merula Miller. They get married on a beach, with ice cream cake instead of traditional wedding cake. Penny calls them up one day with the news that she's been working on a potion to allow a woman to become pregnant from another woman and asks them if they'd like to test it. At age twenty six, Gracie nearly passes out watching Merula give birth to their oldest daughter, Destiny. Three years later their second daughter, Dahlia, is born

Career: Gracie becomes the Dark Arts professor at Durmstrang at age twenty three. She's mocked by the other professors for being young and inexperienced, but after she kicks one of their asses in a duel they back off. She's a talented professor, and her curse actually allows her to be a test dummy of sorts for her students so that they're able to learn both from the book and from experience. After marrying Merula they move to Germany to be near Gracie's family, so she ends up being very talented at Apparation

The Second Wizarding War:

- Gracie is out of the country when the war happens, and only returns when she gets word of Bill's attack, leaving Merula and the kids in Germany to be safe (and avoid risking Merula run into her parents, because Gracie knows that Merula would try and duel them)

- She does not participate in the Battle of Hogwarts because if she did, she knew Tessa would too and couldn't risk her sister getting hurt

- She's horrified to discover that Olivia and Justin were some of the people who escaped Azkaban, but relieved that neither of them were spotted in the battle. Olivia shows up on Gracie's doorstep the day after the battle and begs Gracie to forgive her for everything, including killing Justin when he tried to join the Death Eaters. Gracie forgives her, and uses her Legilimency to figure out the best way to get Olivia out of her jail sentence

- Merula hates Olivia quite a bit when she realizes that this Olivia is the one in R (not because she was in R, but because she and Gracie hooked up a few times while they were there together), but is able to get along with her - especially when Olivia takes a great interest in Rosalie

Old Age and Death:

- Gracie dies at the age of one hundred and seventeen from natural causes. After her death, her wand snaps in half by itself

Personality

- Major introvert

- Craves touch, but won't ask for it unless she's super close with the person she wants it from

- Tries to think logically whenever possible

- Might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie

- When she gets upset, making her laugh is the best option

- Sentimental as all hell, borderlining on being a hoarder

- Prefers animals to humans most of the time

Misc Information

- Gracie is bilingual, fluent in both English and German

- She can play cello. She can also sing, but doesn't like doing it in front of other people

- Gracie's misophonia developed around age nine, but didn't start becoming a real issue until the anxiety and depression joined in at age eleven

- By the time Gracie meets Fleur, she's so good at blocking out Rosalie's allure that she doesn't even notice Fleur's. Speaking of Rosalie, she and Olivia do end up marrying

- Gracie nearly kills Tessa the first time a craze is strong enough to target a family member. Tessa falls off of a small cliff and ends up in a coma the day Gracie joins R

- Gracie doesn't find out about it until the next time she actually sees Tessa months later because the craze was strong enough to disorient her, and oh boy does she hate herself when she finds out

- Gracie never officially broke up with Merula when she joined R, but wrongly assumed she would find someone else. Gracie casually hooked up with a couple people in the meantime, including Olivia

- Olivia gives Gracie an amethyst necklace a few months after she joins R, and Gracie charms that one in place instead of Vance's

- Part of why Olivia was able to convince Gracie to join R was because Gracie had recently failed suicide and was desperate to find a way to get R away from Tessa and her friends. If she couldn't die (and get them to stop targeting her friends to get to her, was the faulty reasoning), she might as well join them and be able to warn her loved ones of upcoming attacks

- Vance jumps in front of Tessa during the last fight with R and dies without saying goodbye, which messes both of the twins up for a while

- Gracie's interest in being a professor stemmed from Rowan's. Rowan became Head Girl :) and lived a long happy life as a professor :))))))))

- Rowan also smacked Gracie when she came back from R, which is fair

- Gracie's favorite muggle thing is orange soda

- Gracie likes pineapple pizza

- She has a sweet tooth, but she really likes sour candy as well

- Her favorite color is blue and she feels like it's a betrayal to her house

- Gracie is forever a dog person because of Ruby. She had previously been a cat person

- She writes a lot of poems as she gets older, and eventually tries out creative writing. She loves it and publishes a few books

- Everyone in her immediate family is left handed besides her father

- Her natural body temperature is a few degrees lower than a normal human's. As such, she sweats more and is always warm to the touch (I don't think it makes sense, but that's how it works for me so...)

- She's obsessed with night. She loves being outside at night, looking at the stars when the air is slightly cooler and feeling alone and insignificant in the universe (it comforts her to know she doesn't matter - it's the depression talking)

- Loves thunderstorms

- Believes in aliens 100%

#hogwarts mystery #gracie chiva #character profile #hphm mc #zepeto

[queenofpurgatoryx]

PART TWO (Sinan x Osman) 

part one

things escaletes a little.

.

For awhile nothing happened, nothing that indicated that night where Osman tended Sinan's wounds on the bench was real.

There had been a few occurances where his gaze lingered a little too long Sinan's recovering hands and maybe Sinan seemed less like a jerk who only opposed his ideas. He still talked back and called Osman's pragmatic plans out but his tone was gentler, maybe. Maybe Osman imagined a faint smile when he helped Sinan get up from the ground, holding on to his hands and feeling the scar tissue for a moment. It might all be in his head or it might mean nothing but the sense of belonging to somewhere kept increasing as the gang got closer and Osman paid no attention to him.He tried not to pay attention to him but his mind was spirilling, really.

More and more lately he had started to wake up earlier. He would peel some carrots, prepare some cucumbers with salt, dried fruits as snacks. Because he noticed everything, and he noticed the way Eda was not eating much, especially anything that was unhealthy. Well, besides alcohol of course. It was less complicated then Sinan because Eda only insisted on not eating a couple of times before caving and grabbing a few pieces of carrots.These kind of small things pushed Osman through. He loved being in control and he loved being able to make himself useful.Sinan on the other hand, was obsessed with not accepting any help from others. When Osman played the nurse and patched Kerem and Sinan up for the first time, it had taken the rest of the gang to beg him to let Osman do it. He had only caved after Osman had helped Kerem, maybe he had felt like it was normal for their group of friends.

Until the night where Sinan had called him and everything had went out of control, Osman was always tentative when it came helping Sinan. He made the spare sandwiches but never gave them directly to Sinan. Sometimes he had to put ingridients that he knew Sinan wouldn't like, just to give the impression that it was not meant for him.That night did change somethings after all. Osman got bold and made the sandwich just as the way Sinan liked it. Offered to take of his bandages the next day and cleaned them out gently.

He even went as far out to grab Sinan's bottle to take a swing while they were chatting after school. Sinan was not a person that would deny a request to share his drink but Osman hadn't asked, just taking the bottle and starting drinking in mid conversation. He held on to it for couple of minutes and when he gave it back, it was almost empty.Sinan glared at him and pulled the bottle back into his pocket. From the way he had tensed, Osman could guess his next move so he slided his hand over the bench and placed it on his knee, pushing down a little.

"Don't go," he said simply, his voice was overshawdowed by Işık'a and Kerem's heated voices.

Sinan was holding the edge of the bench, his fingers curling around the hard wood until his knuckles were white. For a moment, Osman waited for Sinan to get up and leave and tell him to fuck off, ran towards the nearest shop to refresh his bottle. Yet, Sinan stayed and Osman's hand lingered on his knee for a bit longer than intented. 

He was playing a dangerous game and but it was too much fun. For someone who was mixed with gambling and the joys of betting, he had never truly understood the appeal until now. He had no interest in thing that were uncertain, yet, he kind of saw the appeal of the danger, the nervousness that came with a good game.

.

After that it was small gestures.

Brushing Sinan’s hair back in the school garden or sitting a bit too close on the couch, helping each other to get up from the ground with a hand. Simple things that nobody would pay attention to but Osman did. First, because it was Osman and he noticed every little detail. Second, it was Sinan and every detail meant something when it came to him. Osman did not understand the nature of this game and he couldn’t estimate the outcome- it was very stressfull. However he was playing a little less attention to his businesses. He was feeling a little more motivated to go to school. He helped his parents with house work a little more often.It was because of the gang. And maybe, because of the game too.

.

Yet the game did not escalated for a while. That was until one day, he was chased by a group of highschoolers.

It was an ordinary friday where he skipped the 5th class that was before the lunch break because he simply hated chemistry and took a walk to the grocery store near by. Picking some fresh fruits according to everyone's favorites (Eda had called him a freak for remembering this small detail but she was smiling bright as she munched on her cherries the first time he had done it.)

He got a little from everything and ignored the shop keepers’ curious glance, smiling to himself as he moved on to green apples. He hated them, too sour for his taste, he had a sweet tooth but he grabbed a few for Sinan. How fitting, his favorite fruits were all the ones that made you grimace at the first bite but a lot of people couldn't stop eating.There was a faint smile on his lips and he was whistling a familiar melody as he was walking back to school with his hands full with bags. It was nearly the end of season for strawberries and it was a shame. Osman loved the summer and loved strawberries- they were Kerem’s favorite too.

The last days of tshirt wheatwer was kind to his skin and he was happy without a reason. Thus, he was careless and it was too late when he spotted them in the distance, recognizing them from right away though.

“We want our money back.” There were four of them and the tallest one of the group was speaking.

Osman stopped immidietly and placed a fake yet polite smile on his face. “As it was established, the game was not rigged. However, I do believe that we can come to-“

“Are we gonna let this one talk our ears off again?” One of them spat and he looked angry. Well, this was an unpleasant situation.

“We want our money back, now,” the first boy muttered with more confidence now.

Osman trusted his ability talk his way out of things but he was not too prideful to accept defeat and flee the scene. His pride came from the way he trusted the ability to act rationally and his instincts told him start running. It also told him to drop the bags as they were slowing him down but momentarily, he wanted to trust his luck, maybe he could get away with the fruits.

Osman had never been a lucky person though, that's why he was logical. He tripped and almost hit his head on the ground. The last minute he was able to protect his face with his hands and he quickly got up, fruits were scattered all around the street and he had smashed the cherries with his torso. He got up quickly and sprinted, thank God he had freakishly long legs and didn't spare a glance to the people that were chasing him.

He saw the school's entrance and almost smiled, he was so tired but with the last ounce of strenght in his muscles he held on to the bars, pulled himself up, prying that those idiots were not idiots enough to follow him into the school ground and he jumped.

His balance was off and he yelped in pain as he landed the ground with a thud and fell forward. It was almost the end of 5th period and he tried to pull himself together without a teacher catching him but as he got up, he grimicad with the sharp pain coming from his left anckle and he grimiced as he pushed himself forward.He almost hopped, rather slowly towards their usual hide out at the backyard away from prying eyes but students were starting to come out the second the bell had rang. He bit his lip and ignored curious glances, it was until he heard his name being called.

"Osman, oh my God! What happened?" Işık was running towards him with full force with wide eyes, always so dramatic.

Osman understood the severity of the situation when even Kerem almost sprinted towards him with worry on his face. He glanced down and saw the red stain on his usually perfectly white shirt and sighed. Before he could clearify, the whole gang was by his side, Sinan was the last on to arrive but he was the first one to push them aside and hold on to him by the arms.

 "Where is the wound? Can you walk? Do you-"

"Hey, hey! Slow down. I'm okay, its just a stain from the cheeries," he shrugged off.

Eda inhaled sharply. "Goddammit, he is delusional."

Osman let out a chuckle and tried to reassure them standing tall, putting his weight on his right and showed his torso by untucking his partly messed up shirt. "See? I'm fine. I just ran for five minutes straight let me sit down first to tell the story before any teachers come around and asks questions."

Everyone seemed relieved after that but Işık was still eying him suspiciously. He took a step forward with confidence but his limping was clear as the day even if the way his face twisted was not.Sinan was by his side in no time, wrapping an arm around his waist and encouraging him to loop an arm around his shoulder to help him up. Osman tilted his head to catch his eye but Sinan was not looking at him, he was able to smell the booze coming out of him though.

They started to walk away and people stopped giving them stares since Kerem was there to stare right back at them. Osman gasped with pain several times and everytime he did, Sinan's fingers dug into his skin as if he wanted to hold him tighter. "Aren't you going to carry me? Bridal style? I deserve a piggy back ride at least," he muttered once the others decided get food, water and some medical supplies to patch him up.They were almost there and Sinan huffed, tilting his head to spare a glance. 

"You are bit too heavy for that, princess."Osman chuckled, he was a bit too tired for banter and he couldn't help but hiss as he sat down, leaning back against the cold concreate. His mind was racing with several different thoughts all at once, chasing each other and tangling into a bigger mess than his life was with questions to be answered and plans to be made.

He came to his senses when Sinan brushed the back of his hand against his. He turned his head towards him and almost liked the worry in his stare. He always liked when Sinan's face held some type of emotion other than disinterest. He looked calmer now though, his hair was a bit messier than usual perhaps.Sinan grabbed his hands and rotated it to examine, turned his palm upwards at the end and stared at the cuts. Osman hadn't even realized them, he must've had them when he fell down.

"You're not gonna play the nurse, are you? Because I don't want to burst your buble but I kind of do not trust you to attend to my wounds."

"Shut up," was the only response he got.He didn't say anything while Sinan poured a bottle of water on his hands to clean them, the cuts were not deep anyway. "I can pour some alcohol on them. They could get infected."

Osman didn't say anything, while Sinan opened the bottle and poured a little, pain jolted in his body and he gasped. Sinan held on to his hand and didn't yield even though Osman had yanked them back instinctively. "Its okay, its over now," he said softly and did the other hand.

The pain went as fast as it came, it stunk a little but he felt fresher. His hand throbbed with the aftermath and his ankle ached a bit but he was okay. His shoulders relaxed and he slid a bit down on the bench, closing his eyes as he rested. "I could get used to not being the nurse for once."

"Well, I liked the previous arrangement better," Sinan stated and Osman opened his eyes. Before he could remark Sinan was continiuning to speak. "A lot of people become doctors because they have a God complex. They want to be the saviour, to have that kind of power. But seeing people in pain even when you're helping is agonizing."

Osman was waiting for a punchline, for Sinan'a little pep talks to circle back to something cynical. It didn't and Sinan avoided his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Sinan said. Osman was too confused to react, he almost shivered when Sinan touched his hand, turning it upwards to take a closer look. "Maybe I should use your methodology and-"

"What are you sorry-"

They both had to stop talking as the others came back. The warmth he was feeling on his left side was gone and that's when he realized they were sitting close in the first place. The warmth in his face remained.

"Here, my spare shirt," Kerem pushed a wrinkled shirt into his hands.

"Why do you have a spare shirt? I thought only goody goods had spare uniforms in their lockers."

"Hey, there is nothing wrong being prepared," Işık stated and Eda rolled her eyes.

“My case stands.”

"I mess a shirt up every week or so," Kerem clerified.

Osman had always been the caregiver. He was the one that remembered little details and paied attention and took care of others. Yet, he did like the recieving end of stuff as he ate the sandwich that Eda had brought. Işık had bandaged his ankle and he was laughing as he wore Kerem's shirt, complaining about the wrinkles as he straightened his tie back.

"Remember that bet I had a week ago and the guys were insistent that the game was rigged-"He told the story and he felt okay, he couldn't help but feel a little warmer everytime Sinan touched him casually though, stroking his knee, touching his arm, brushing past his hand... Two could play this game.

.

i think there will be one more part where we finally get whats going on with sinan and his actions will make sense. or i am delusional and there will be two more, i’m not sure yet. funfact for the 3 people that are reading: my grandfather was hit by a car and it was very harmless but he had been carrying cheeries. his shirt was tainted and it looked like blood, causing everyone around to panic lol , the idea came to out of nowehre to be written into a random fic. let me know what you think!

#love 101 #aşk 101 #sinan x osman #sinman #lmao at the ship name #thank you to anyone who is reading #my writing

[starscheme]

With All My Heart

Disclaimer: This is a Stevinel Fanfiction! If you have a problem with this Ship, do not read it. Thank you.

Chapter One: Shifting Feelings?

“It’s done!” Shouted a joyous Spinel as she held up a carefully wrapped sky blue box tied with pink ribbon and pinned with a star. She turned her gaze to Pearl whom was sitting at the counter of the kitchen, watching as she celebrated. “Thanks for helping me to wrap it.”

“Of course,” replied Pearl with a smile. “I’m sure Steven will love it.”

“I hope so,” Spinel whispered happily as she hugged the gift box close to her chest. “I’ll go and look for him. I want to give him his present as soon as possible.” With a wave from Pearl, Spinel swiftly left the house and made her way down to the beach. It was already getting dark. Finishing up her gift had taken all day long.

As Spinel walked along the beach slowly, hugging the gift carefully to herself, she thought about the events that had brought her here today.

Like Pearl, Spinel belonged to Pink Diamond. However, she wasn’t a servant as Pearl was. Spinel was created to be Pinks playmate, to entertain and accompany her when she was sad. Spinel of course, was happy to do this. A garden had been created for just the two of them and Pink would visit quite often at first, but once she was given a Colony, Pink, Pearl, and Spinel left for earth.

Spinel was excited at the thought of a new place to play, but Pink insisted on trying to be serious so that she could prove her worth as a Diamond. Thus, Spinel would keep her silly antics to a minimum when they were around others and Pearl was put in charge of helping Spinel to behave. Because of this, Spinel began to find herself depending on Pearl for many things. She became something like a big sister.

When Pink decided to rebel as Rose Quartz, Pearl and Spinel followed behind her. To Spinel, she was still doing what she was made for, helping her friend. Even when she and Pearl were sworn to secrecy, Spinel felt like everything would be okay so long as Pink was happy. That was her job after all, to make Pink happy.

She didn’t like fighting Gems and she certainly grieved when the war ended with the diamonds final attack, but in the end, Pink was okay and that’s all that mattered. Wasn’t it?

As long as Pink was happy, Spinel felt she was doing her job. However, it was never enough. Pink never seemed truly happy, at least not until she decided to have a child. Pearl was beside herself, but Spinel didn’t truly understand what it meant to have a baby. Not until Steven was born did she realize that her friend, her entire reason for being, was gone forever.

It changed her. Her gem turned upside down and her grief was permanently scarred on her face. Her personality even seemed to shift. She could no longer cover everything with a smile and a laugh. It was harder to smile and the color seemed to drain from her world. Everything was so dark.

That is...until she finally met Steven. She had refused to see him with the others on their first visit, but when she came around and went to meet him, something else changed.

When she held Steven for the very first time and saw his smile, a warmth rushed over her and the light flooded back into her world. This wasn’t Rose, but it was her Gem. This meant that Spinel had a purpose again. It meant that Spinel had a reason to exist once more. That day, she promised Steven in tears that she would never allow anything to make him sad. She would be his friend forever and never leave his side. It was this day that Spinel was celebrating.

There was no way that Steven would remember this, but Spinel held that day very dear. It was the day that she regained something precious and ever since, Steven had become the most important person in her life. He was her favorite person on Earth and everything she did was for his sake. As long as he was smiling, Spinel was content.

With a happy sigh, Spinel thought of Stevens smile, hoping she would see it again once he saw what she had made for him. It wasn’t until she heard familiar laughter that Spinel was shaken from thoughts. It was Steven for sure.

“Oh! ST—-“ just as Spinel was about to call out to her friend, she caught sight of Steven, but he wasn’t alone. Standing beside him and laughing along was his friend Connie. The sight of this stopped Spinel cold.

It’s not as if she hated Connie, but something about the girl rubbed Spinel the wrong way. Ever since Steven met the girl, Spinel had been uncomfortable around her.

“Spinel?” Steven called out after spotting the Gem from the corner of his eye.

Spinel gasped and quickly hid behind a large rock. How long had she been standing there staring at them and why was she hiding now? She just wanted to give Steven his gift. Connie being there shouldn’t stop her from doing that, right?

It’s just...seeing Steven laughing with Connie, more and more recently it made Spinel feel...uneasy.

“Gotcha!!” Shouted Steven, peeking from behind the rock and shocking Spinel from her inner thoughts, causing the Gem to drop the gift she had been holding so tenderly.

“You dropped something,” Connie said apologetically as she leaned down to grab the gift box.

“Don’t touch that!!” Spinel shouted angrily.

Unfortunately for Spinel, her abrupt outburst had startled Connie as she was leaning down to retrieve the package. Connie flinched and attempted to back up, but her heel dig into the sand due to her shift in weight and Connie toppled over, her left knee landing firmly on top of the box, a noticeable crunch being echoed in everyone’s ears.

All three were stunned to silence for a moment before Steven quickly rushed forward and helped Connie up, taking the damaged box in his other hand and glancing at Spinel with sympathetic eyes.

“I-I’m SO sorry, Spinel!” Connie exclaimed nervously. “I-I didn’t mean to—-I was just trying to—-“

Spinel said nothing. Her vision had gotten a bit blurry as she stared in shock at the gift in Stevens hand.

Rationally, Spinel knew Connie was not a bad person. Steven would never hold someone dear like that if they didn’t have a good heart. Still, an anger was bubbling up inside of the Gem and she couldn’t be bothered to hear an apology.

Holding out her hand, Spinel kept her gaze down at the sand, hoping to hide her expression from them. She didn’t want to give Steven something broken like this.

Steven and Connie exchanged concerned glances before he handed the box back to his friend.

“...Spinel, I was just seeing Connie off. Will you wait for a second and I’ll be right back?” Asked Steven hopefully.

Again, Spinel said nothing. A lump had formed in her throat and it was all she could do not to have another outburst. So instead, she nodded slowly and turned her back to the two of them.

It was awkward to leave like this and Connie tried quietly to convince Steven that she should stay and talk with Spinel, but Steven shook his head and reassured Connie that it would be best to speak with Spinel tomorrow. It was late after all and Connie would miss her curfew. At least, that was part of it. Steven also knew that Spinel always had a rough time with Connie, so some time to cool off would be better.

With a defeated sigh, Connie finally agreed to head home, giving Steven a hug goodbye and offering one more apology to Spinel before warping away on Lions back.

Once she was gone, the silence only felt heavier. Steven turned to Spinel now and placed his hand on her shoulder from behind, knowing she didn’t want to be seen.

“She really is sorry. It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” muttered Spinel.

“...I can help you fix it,” offered Steven.

Spinel flinched and turned around now, masking her unsettled feelings with a smile.

“No need. I can handle it myself. We should head back home though. ...it’s dark out already.”

“Are you sure? I can just use my healin—“

“—I’m sure,” interrupted Spinel as she took Stevens hand and turned for the beach house to lead Steven home.

Clearly, Steven wasn’t buying Spinels happy act. She had done this all his life. Though he had tried to bring it up before and make Spinel talk about what was bothering her, she always smiled and said nothing was wrong. He hated it.

However, he didn’t want to upset her any further tonight. He simply squeezed her hand gently and sped up to match her pace so they were walking beside one another rather than Spinel pulling him along.

They walked in silence until they reached the door and Spinel swiftly stored the broken box inside of her Gem. She didn’t want Pearl to see it like that. She would have most likely scolded her for being careless with it.

Luckily though, no one was waiting in the living room when they got inside, giving Spinel a moment of relief. Pearl must have gone to fetch Amethyst at Little Homeworld.

“I’m gonna change for bed,” Steven informed Spinel as he slowly released her hand. “Call you up when I’m done?”

With that, the Gem felt lighter already. A genuine smile laced her lips and she nodded happily. “Of course!”

Spinel had made it a habit to sleep in Stevens bed since he was small. Even while he was living with Greg in that van. He was so small before, of course she was worried that something would happen to him while he slept. When he came to live with them here, she began to watch him sleep. Alongside Pearl of course. Though she would later just curl up beside him in his bed all the same.

As Steven was getting ready for bed, a chime rang out and a beam of light warped Amethyst and Pearl back into the living room. They seemed to be having a conversation, but once Pearl spotted Spinel, they stopped and the graceful Gem leapt towards Spinel with an anticipating smile.

“Spinel! Did Steven li-mph!??”

Spinel had extended her arm and clamped a hand over Pearls mouth with a ‘shush.’

Keeping quiet, Spinel shook her head, hoping Pearl would understand that the gift had not been given just yet.

Though she was startled at first, Pearl nodded her head and waited patiently as Spinel reeled back her arm to herself.

“Steven is getting ready for bed. I’m just waiting until he’s changed his clothes.”

Pearl frowned. “Now Spinel, you know I don’t approve of you sleeping in Stevens bed much anymore.”

“It’s not every night. ...anymore.” Finished Spinel with a blush across her cheeks. Pearl had seen to it that Spinel spend some nights in her own bedroom. For some reason, as Steven got older, Pearl got stricter about Spinel spending time with him. It was not something Spinel was happy about, but it was awfully hard to say no to Pearl. They had been together for so long after all. “...it couldn’t hurt to do it every once in a while, right?”

Pearl looked as though she wanted to argue this further, but simply exhaled in defeat. “Fine, but I don’t want you two up all night again reading or playing that card game. Remember, Steven needs his sleep.”

“I’m aware. ...but in my defense, it was a brand new game so it took us a little longer to learn the rules.”

Pearl growled in her throat and frowned. Which Spinel usually took to mean that arguing would only make Pearl angry.

“Spinel! I’m all done!” Called out Steven from his bedroom up the stairs.

“Goodnight, guys,” Spinel said quickly before turning on her heel and dashing up the stairs like a puppy that had just been called to its master. There was just nothing Spinel liked more than being with Steven.

When she got up the stairs, she looked around the room, but found that Steven wasn’t there. Confused at first, Spinel took a few more steps into the room until she was met with a something soft and sweet against the tip of her nose.

“Gotcha,” Steven laughed, floating slowly back to the floor. He had been hovering just above Spinel to surprise her, hoping to cheer her up a little with one of her favorite treats. He had tapped the large marshmallow to the tip of her nose to get her attention.

Spinels eyes lit up and she opened her mouth expectedly. With another light laugh, Steven placed the marshmallow gently into her mouth, feeling a sense of relief as he watched Spinel enjoy her snack so cheerfully.

“Only one though.” Steven insisted, knowing full well that she was sure to ask for more.

Looking slightly disappointed, Spinel swallowed her treat and nodded her head, “fine. Thank you, Steven.”

Though Spinel was still upset that she couldn’t give Steven his gift right away, the day hadn’t been a total failure. After all, any time she got to spend with Steven was enough for her.

Steven smiled at Spinel before yawning a bit. He then turned for his bed and get himself under the blanket. He had spent most of the day out with Connie and was actually pretty tired.

Spinel closed her eyes for a moment and changed her attire in a flash of light. Now wearing a pink shirt and pajama pants, she was ready for bed as well. The Gem jumped onto the bed, causing Steven to bounce a little, warning a laugh from the both of them.

Steven watched as Spinel got herself under the blankets. He had gotten so used to Spinel sleeping beside him that it felt off whenever Pearl would make her sleep elsewhere. The bed was too big without her it seemed.

Once Spinel got comfortable beneath the blankets, she noticed Steven staring down at her and her heart thumped against her chest to her surprise.

“Wh...what is it?” She asked bashfully, more confused over the pang in her chest than his gaze on her.

It wasn’t until Spinel spoke up that Steven even realized he had been staring. With a nervous flinch, he smiled awkwardly and looked away, feeling his cheeks begin to burn.

“N-nothing. Sorry. I was just uh...thinking about something.”

An embarrassing silence fell between them now and Spinel didn’t like it. This was supposed to be like any other night. Had she done something wrong? Perhaps Steven was still upset that she had raised her voice at Connie earlier.

“You should get to sleep,” tried Spinel, holding out her arms with a smile.

Steven blushed even further, looking down at her as she waited for him to lean down into her arms.

“You know, I’m a lot bigger now...” he replied before clearing his throat a little.

Spinels smile faded quickly. Clearly dejected, she brought her arms back to herself and tried to smile as is if to shrug it off.

“Oh, of course. I just thought you might...”

As her voice trailed off Steven took in a deep breath and cleared his throat once more, holding out his arms this time, his eyes fixed on the blanket to keep from meeting Spinels gaze. This was a little embarrassing now that he wasn’t so small.

Spinel perked up almost at once, leaning forward quickly and snuggling against Stevens chest with a smile. Perhaps he wasn’t angry with her after all.

Seeing Spinel cheered up once again, Steven smiled and sighed in defeat. Spinels moods always shifted so quickly and everything showed on her face. He just couldn’t win against her when she seemed disappointed or sad. Laying himself down a little more, he hugged her thin frame, resting his head just above hers on the pillow and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight Spinel...” breathed Steven quietly.

“Goodnight...Steven,” Spinel whispered in reply. Today hadn’t gone as planned at all. Hopefully she could get Stevens gift fixed quickly and try again. After all, it was something very special to her and she wanted him to have it. However, thinking about fixing the present brought her mind back to seeing Connie and Steven together. The image brought another strange feeling in her chest. More painful this time. It’s not like she hadn’t felt this before. The past year or so, it’s how she always felt when Connie was around Steven. It’s why being around the girl was so uncomfortable for her. She didn’t like the pain in her gut and she began to find...that she didn’t much like Steven smiling at Connie the way he did. These feelings...Spinel hated it. She wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steven cared about Connie and Steven was her friend. So that meant that Spinel should like Connie as well, right? Spinel didn’t want to be a bad friend.

Hoping to make the painful feeling disappear, Spinel snuggled in closer to Steven and closed her eyes tight. He always made her feel better. He always made everything heavy feel light again. Everything would be okay...so long as Steven was here with her. She was sure of it.

A/N: Thank you all for reading Chapter One. The next chapter will be out soon. You can follow the tag on tumblr or follow the story on Fanfiction.net

My username is the same on both platforms.

#steven universe #su #with all my heart #chapter one #stevinel #spinel #au spinel #cg spinel #steven and spinel #fan fiction

[loopy777]

Hm. Lately I’ve been feeling conflicted. I would usually say that even if Azula did become good, she would still need to be punished for the horrible things she had done (being in prison is a punishment for sure). But then I would think about how that should be applied to Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee. Like yeah, they did decided to be good (arguable “good” with Mai & Ty Lee) in the end, but it didn’t really erase the terrible actions that they had done. (1/2)

But I’m attached to these characters. I understood why they did they things they did, why they acted like they did, and how they become who they are. And I don’t want them to be in harms way after knowing about their past, trauma, and issues that they had to worked through. But then I’m being a hypocrite since I wasn’t the same with Azula. And if Azula got punished for her past wrongs, I suppose the others should too? I don’t know... Should they have been punished? (2/2)

This gets into the purpose of punishment in general, which turns out to be a very personal thing.

I, coming from a Catholic Christian background, don’t see any purpose to punishment beyond an attempt (and we’ll touch on this word again later) to correct bad behavior. I used to be a fairly angry little kid (Raphael was my favorite Ninja Turtle for a reason) and I liked to wish misfortune (usually destruction of property, like a car dying) on the people I was mad at. So my mom used to quote me the famous bit from St Paul’s letter to the Romans: “’Vengeance is mine, I will repay,’ says the Lord.” So I was always taught that trying to pay people back for their evil deeds, purely as an act of justice, is cosmically wrong. On the other hand, I was given time-outs when my behavior was bad and also told I did not have to subject myself to the company of bullies, so clearly the lesson isn’t just to let people be bad and not worry about it.

There are people and cultures, though, that demand retaliation. This is just their worldview, and leaving bad things unaddressed would be an active injustice.

Pragmatically speaking, a punishment’s value to society at large is to discourage bad behavior. You do a bad thing, you get an appropriate punishment, and so you decide you don’t want to do the bad thing again in order to avoid future punishments. Ideally, the very threat of punishment is a preventative. Punishments are scaled to the crime to prevent inflation; if every bad act merited the death penalty, then you might as well commit premeditated murder against someone you dislike instead of just calling them a rude name.

However, as I alluded to above, punishments are an attempt to prevent or correct bad behavior, but are not necessarily effective. Rewards are the opposite side of the coin, a system of encouraging good behavior. There’s all kinds of studies on these things, how effective they are, whether and how they can be mixed, the effectiveness of certain types of punishments and rewards, etc. So I’m not going to get into the nitty-gritty of all that here. This is just foundation for answering your question.

So, with my background in mind, I don’t see any reason why Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee should be punishment because they have already done the following things:

Admitted they were wrong.

Suffered for their bad behavior.

Attempted to redress or mitigate the consequences of their actions.

Changed themselves so that they are now, based on the recognition of the badness of their previous selves, forces for good.

Again, to bring up my Catholicism, this is exactly the process by which forgiveness of Sin is achieved (maybe minus the suffering depending on how old-school or hardcore the Catholicism is, but narratively the suffering usually makes for a better story), so as far as I’m concerned, there’s no need for punishment or hell for Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee. Some people, though, might not see their experiences and changes as enough; they might want the victims to judge Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee and pronounce some form of punishment or restitution. Arguably, though, this kind of already happened, with the Kyoshi Warriors accepting Ty Lee and Aang accepting Zuko as his Firebending teacher and Suki accepting Mai as a Pai Sho opponent (hey, they can’t all be dramatized on-screen). But some people might want a formal process.

Azula, on the other hand, is keeping up her bad behavior. Now, “redemption” is another one of those words that can mean different things to different people and cultures. Going by my own definition above, Azula has not admitted that her behavior was wrong- last we saw her, she was still trying to teach Zuko that fear is more powerful than love, and she’s still delighting in petty cruelties. She has suffered, but as I noted, this part is optional and not terribly important, anyway. She has not tried to fix the harm she’s caused other people. And she has certainly not even attempted to change herself to become better- just more effective at living up to her old standards.

So, arguably, Azula thus deserves a punishment as part of her path to Redemption.

However, let’s get back to discussing the effectiveness of punishment. As I noted, Azula has suffered. What punishment is going to be worse than her experiences in the finale, being left behind by her father to stew in her paranoia until she is defeated by her enemies and loses all self-control? Is throwing her in jail going to make her better? Is scarring her going to have more of an impact than what she’s already been through?

(Of course, if she doesn’t change, then jail is certainly appropriate to keep her from harming others, which she keeps actively attempting.)

This now gets into the modern debates about crime and punishment, and that our modern criminal justice system is not particularly effective at rehabilitation. Again, there’s stuff out there to learn from, but I’m going to focus on Azula’s narrative. She can certainly experience a story where she is not actively punished but nevertheless transforms into a better person through experiences that truly teach the rewards of being a good person. Azula might more effectively and believably embrace the power of love through rehabilitative experiences instead of punishments.

But would her story be as rewarding if there’s no transformational suffering? Would we feel her Redemption has been earned?

Like I said, this gets personal. I don’t think there are solid answers, hence why my own focus for telling stories about Azula isn’t “redemption.” I think there’s interesting stories to tell about her coming into mental and emotional balance, and that’s what I focus my narratives and themes on supporting. The end result might be a Redemption Fic, but I reached it through character work rather than judgement and justice. As Gandalf once said, “Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.” This seems to most directly address the idea of capital punishment, but I think it speaks to the inherent lack of ‘justice’ in life. There’s no undoing bad things or crimes, so no true justice can be done. What remains is simply how we ourselves react to it all.

So I don’t know if made my philosophical case, but I at least hope I explained why Azula is currently in a different class than Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee.

I am, of course, completely ignoring that the AtLA comics consistently portray Zuko as someone who tries to murder his friends whenever he disagrees with him. Because that Zuko totally needs a time-out.

#Anonymous

[bakugouscentedcaramel]

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Aphrodisiac

Back at it again with the Reader insert smut this time with Dabi

Warnings: Horny Dabi, dom reader, aphrodisiac, possible dubcon, overstimulation, submissive Dabi

The burning under his skin hadn’t stopped.

Dabi was “commanded” by shigarki to recruit a villain that had been causing problems for heroes in the Ros district. It took some favors but he managed to track down the illusive person.

Only to meet a black haired woman who put him down quickly. “No interested, hotshot.” She put a hand on his cheek, “though, maybe if I get a night with you.” She purred.

Dabi quickly rejected her advances, he may be a villain but he remained loyal to you. The woman seemed surprising understanding, patting his cheek before leaving him.

On the way back to the league of villains, something felt off. Like a tickle at the pit of his stomach. Then a feeling of heat, not caused by his quirk. Soon, he was overcome by a full blown fever like burning in every cell of his body.

She did this, somehow.

Frustratingly but expectedly, shigaraki handled his failure with a child. Throwing a temper tantrum and pouting.

Fucking grow up. Dabi though bitterly, somehow the heat at his core was getting worse.

The black haired villain really needed to see you, but you were nowhere in sight.

“Hey, kurogiri,” he turned to the bartender, “where’s (Y/N)?” Even the mention of your name had spiked his need for you.

“Gone for a few days. Something in Hasu if I recall.”

Fuck.

That’s how Dabi found himself in his current predicament. Spread out on your shared bed, rubbing his cock trying to find relief.

He learned shortly after fleeing from the suffocating feeling of the bar that the villain he met, had an aphrodisiac quirk. It would run its course in the span of a week or he could rub one out and let the quirk fade with an orgasm.

One of those options was pure torture and the other one wasn’t fucking working.

After his third orgasm Dabi realized that he actually needed you to make this quirk go away. Apparently a one man show wasn’t a solution.

Fuckin’ aphrodisiac bitch. He growled in defeat, cock too sensitive to try again. This was torture, utter fucking torture. Dabi would rather let his own quirk melt his skin off than feel this horny for however long you’ll be gone.

He tried to call you, only to be sent straight to voicemail. He was fucked. Metaphorically fucked.

By the second day Dabi resigned himself to death. He’d prefer it. Somehow, somehow, in the span of two days he had only gotten hornier. He called you again, and nearly wept when you answered.

“Baby,” he gasped, “please come back, I need you. So badly.” He explained the situation, the other villain, the aphrodisiac, going into what is essentially heat. All of it.

“It’s hell, (Y/N).” He groaned, your voice raising the effects.

You were silence for a second, clearly calculating what would be required to return home. “Think you can handle until tomorrow?” You asked.

“Fucking no. I can’t do this. It’s torture!” He gasped, grip on the phone shaking.

“I believe you can do it,” your voice dropped to something sultry, “if you manage to survive I’ll have you screaming from everything I’m gonna do to you.”

His core tightened at your words. You fucking- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“(Y/N), Please-“ he choked, only for you to say your goodbyes and hang up.

And thus, the worst day of his adult life had occurred. The entire day of nothing but a building heat and horniness. He got to three orgasms before he called you, and you guided him over the phone to one more that night.

He still woke up the next morning naked and feeling worse.

Ever fiber of his being was screaming at him for release. A broken moan escaped his lips. Already, early in the morning, he was going mad.

Ripping off the too hot duvet, Dabi gasped as cool air hit his already hard cock. He was so sensitive, it hurt, it burned but he needed to cum.

He knew it was in vain when his hand grabbed his aching dick. Thoughts of you already flooding his mind. One hand remained on the back of his head, the other was stroking him desperately. He thought of you through all of it.

Your lips sucking him off. Your body bouncing on him. His hands on your chest as he fucked you.

He was building towards release already. Body burning for it. His strokes became faster, needier and less precise.

Your name was falling from his lips like a prayer. Your body was in his mind. Sweat built at his forehead and chest as a coil in his stomach tightened. His eyes closed tightly fading into his pleasure.

He was close. He was so damn close.

Dabi was so engrossed in his own thought he didn’t hear you open the door. He didn’t hear your gasp of surprise. Nor did he even hear your steps.

But he did feel your weight shift the bed and your lips attack his.

Dabi gasped in surprise, which you greedily took advantage of with your tongue. Your fingers raked down his chest, still being mindful of his scars.

The flame villain broke away with a moan, “god damn, (Y/N).”

“You looked so hot just then.” You whispered in his ear, breath ghosting his skin, “you being in heat for me.” Your nails trailed down his overheating body.

Your destination was clear when your hand removed his from his cock.

“Put your hands above your head.” You commanded, voice low.

Unconsciously, he did. Normally he was the one in charge but right now? You could fucking tie him up and he would let you.

There was a click of handcuffs.

Oh. OH.

“Now be a good boy Dabi and let stay still.” You stroked him slowly, making sure to drive each word home.

Somehow he was even hornier for you.

You devoured him. Your lips were everywhere. At his neck, on his chest, stopping his moans at his lips. All the white your pace remained steady, building him to his release slowly.

“F-fuck. Go faster.” He growled, meaning to touch you only to be stopped by the metal at his wrists. Dabi groaned in frustration, his body was still screaming for release.

You, however, were having the time of your life. Straddling his thighs, one hand lazily stroking his leaking cock, and the other was drawing light circles on his thighs.

“There’s a word I’m looking for.” You had the evilest (and sexiest) smirk on your face. You know what you do to him. How you drive him wild. You know how he loves you.

He’ll give you what you want. Only because you were giving him what he needed.

“Baby please,” he gasped, “I need you to go faster. Please.”

Just like that, you gave him what he needed for real. Your expert hand picked up the pace, touching him where you knew he was most sensitive. Your other hand had now occupied itself with stroking his balls.

The moans you heard from Dabi we’re down right sinful. He didn’t care how he sounded like some horny teen again. He didn’t care that you had taken control over his body. Fuck, you could call him the most degrading shit and he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care because it was you.

You brought him to utter ecstasy. Your hands, your lips, all of you had brought him to the most heavenly orgasm of his life. His teal eyes rolled back. His mouth opened in a howl of your name. Euphoria had practically drowned him as he cam, release dirtying your shirt.

The only thing that brought him down was your hand stroking him again. His cock was on fire, bordering pain. A strangled gasp escaped him.

That smirk. That fucking smirk!

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” He moaned, voice cracking. He was sensitive, more sensitive than before. Was this because of the aphrodisiac fading? His hips tried to move, to escape your grip only to fail. His hands strained the handcuffs but they remained strong. Broken moans and cries were all that he heard.

“Shit, b-baby, fuck,” his words were incoherent. The nerves in his body were working overtime. To much. It was to much. You were giving him to much. His orgasm was building again. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. The pleasure and the pain of overstimulation was melting into one.

His gaze met yours, a dark and dominating look from you had him feeling dizzy.

Dabi cried out as his back bowed with another orgasm. Muscles twitched and spasmed as he was brought to painful ecstasy again. His cum weakly dribbled down your knuckles.

Enough. Enough please!

He crashed from his high, left utterly exhausted. His fogged mind didn’t register your fingers in his mouth. He could only do as you commanded, “suck”. The taste of saltiness filled his mouth.

Oh...fuck.

What demon had he allowed dominance?

“You’re doing so well Dabi.” You hummed, “think you can handle one more?” You were still firmly straddling him. Though, your hands had graciously released him.

Something told him to nod, truly if he hated this, all he had to do was say no.

“Good boy.” You looked so fucking happy. Happy that you tortured him like this.

You touched him again and all Dabi knew was screaming. Screaming and euphoria until he passed out.

After it all, after all your fun. After he woke up, body cleaned up and covered with the duvet, You laid on your back, his head on your chest. He was paralyzed, body still pulsing as pleasure clung to him like a cobweb. Your fingers combed through his hair. The other was finger locked with his hand. Dabi faded in and out of consciousness again, sleep wanting to overtake him.

He wanted to stay awake with you.

“Dabi, baby?” Your voice roused him slightly. He turned his head up to you, “I love you.” You said.

A feeling of warmth flooded him at his chest. A pleasant feeling that left him feeling vulnerable and happy. So damn happy.

“I love you too.”

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