#hell yeah gimme the round spoon
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growing up is realizing how great soup spoons are
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About Time (Reid Fic)
Summary: Reader’s offer to help Morgan renovate one of his properties makes Spencer jealous enough to confess what he never could before.
A/N: I try to avoid specific Reid eras in my works so that it can be up to you how you imagine him, but please just imagine seasons 1 or 2 Spencer - I’m telling you it’ll make the experience richer. Also, I might improve this fic in the near future bc I’m not entirely happy with it.
Category: Drabble, Fluff
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Content Warning: None
Word Count: 2.5k
Playlist: Would You Be So Kind by Dodie
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Clink … Clink … Clink …
The repetitive noise was barely discernible at first, then it became all that I could focus on.
In an attempt to find the source, I looked up from my paperwork and scanned the room. It only took me half a second to discover that Morgan was the culprit.
From across the round table, I watched as Derek absentmindedly stirred his coffee and sugar together, making a ‘clink’ noise each time his spoon hit the rim of the cup. This wouldn’t have been bothersome had it not persisted for more than 10 minutes which, by all accounts, is plenty of time for the sugar to dissolve.
“Derek… ” I sort of sang, trying to capture his attention as nicely as possible.
“Derek.” I repeated, this time a little less quietly and a little more sharply. Still, my voice did nothing to stop the noisy stirring of his coffee. I stayed silent for a second, just in case he finally noticed I was speaking to him, but when he didn’t, I gave a concerned look to Spencer beside me as if to ask if he was seeing what I was and he returned just the same expression of confusion.
That’s when I knew something was wrong.
“Derek!” I said even louder, finally catching his attention.
His head snapped in my direction, his ghost-like countenance falling away after looking directly at me. I was relieved to see proof of life had been regained behind his eyes. The abrupt reaction made me squint harder in his direction to decipher what was truly going on. “Is everything okay? You were kind of zoning out just now.”
He sighed while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s nothing. I just had a late night last night and I didn’t go to bed till three this morning.”
“Oh?” I asked coyly. “And what was her name?” I brought my mug to my lips to hide my growing smirk behind the rim.
He didn’t catch on right away, which to me was more than enough evidence that he wasn’t well. He was usually the first to be aware of an innuendo, maybe even the one to be making it. “Whose name?”
“The girl that kept you up till three this morning.” I mimicked his voice in crude yet playful imitation.
To this, he shook his head and rolled his eyes with a grin. “Alright, get your pretty lil’ head out of the gutter, Kitten. I was busy fixing up a property I got down in Emporia. Lost track of time. That’s all.”
Whether or not he was hiding something more, I didn’t care anymore. He’d piqued my interest in this new topic. “Emporia? That’s like 2 or 3 hours away.”
His eyebrows lifted in agreement. “Yeah, like I said - late night.”
Not even trying to tempt him with my words, I simply remarked, “But I mean it can’t be that hard though, right? Fixing up the house?”
There was no verbal response from him, only a mirthless chuckle.
I was less careful with my words than I should’ve been, letting them flow through my mouth without filtering them first. “I’m just saying, I worked with Habitat For Humanity for years. We built thousands of houses from scratch, each of them within a matter of days.”
He sat up in his seat and leaned forward to assert himself. It was nearly the same mannerisms he would display in an interview when he wanted to maintain dominance. “Well, that’s because you got how many people working on one house?”
When I didn’t answer, he simply tapped the table and leaned back comfortably in his seat, prematurely relishing in a self-proclaimed victory. “Yeah, exactly. Whereas, it’s just little ol’ me fixing up these properties.”
“Okay, then I’ll help you.”
He only snickered in response, lending way for me to believe he didn’t trust that I’d provide any sort of productive assistance.
“I will!” I insisted. “Since you’re so convinced those houses were only built as fast as they were because it was a group effort, I want to prove to you that it’s actually because I’m just a fast worker.”
“It’s not a race, Kitten. All I said was it took me a while to fix up the house. I don’t need you to help. And I wouldn’t be paying you even if you did, by the way.”
“Oh, I’m not doing this for money,” I reasserted. “I’m doing this for pride. I know I’m right, and I want you to know it, too.”
It’s worth mentioning that Derek and I made these kinds of bets all the time. Our friendship was practically built on the foundation of competition. The first interaction I ever had with him was when he came up to me while I was arranging my desk to ask what I thought the odds were that he could toss his paper ball into the trashcan across the bullpen.
Years Ago . . .
“What are the chances I’ll make the shot?” I heard a deep, unfamiliar voice inquire from behind me.
“You’re aiming for the trashcan all the way over there? No way.” This voice I knew was Elle’s. She’d been the second person to introduce herself to me and if I had to guess, the deeper voice belonged to the guy I recalled sitting diagonally from her. I made eye contact with him when I initially walked in, but he hadn’t taken the time to introduce himself to me, nor I to him. He seemed a little preoccupied … making a paper ball and all.
“Actually, if Morgan’s throw had specific arc, the trajectory of the ball would -”
“He’s not making it, Reid.” Elle cut off the small, almost mousy voice promptly, shutting down any ‘pro-Morgan-making-the-shot’ argument he was about to make.
You could get a lot from just listening. Some might call it eavesdropping, but I like to call it being observant, and from what I’d observed
A) The one throwing the ball was Morgan.
B) The smart-sounding one was Reid.
C) Reid was a proponent of Morgan, so I could assume they were close friends.
D) There were three very distinct, very different personalities in this general vicinity of desks alone.
“O’ ye of little faith! Gimme a break, Elle. You’re just busting my balls ‘cause Reid came to me about Lila before he came to you.”
“That has nothing to do with the fact that I’m right.”
“No, but it means you have bias.” Derek retorted.
“Fine then. If it means that much to you to have an unbiased opinion, let’s ask someone impartial - like Anderson.”
“Actually, I have a better idea,” The deep voice said as soon as I’d placed the last item on my desk - a stack of sticky notes in the shape of a cat’s face that’d been gifted to me the moment I exited the elevator by Penelope Garcia.
“Excuse me, Kitten,” The deep voice purred. “You think I could get this ball into that trash bin right over there?”
It took me a second to register that he was addressing me until I realized where the nickname originated from and that it had belonged to me - I could thank Penelope for that.
“Oh, um …” I looked around the room like somehow it would have my answer. In some ways, it did.
I made contact with Reid first. He smiled weakly at me with tender awkwardness that melted my heart a little bit. Meanwhile, Elle’s eyes were luring me to join her on the dark side and say he wouldn’t make it. To be fair, riling him up seemed like fun. I’d be on Elle’s good side, gain her approval, and if I executed my jest playfully enough, I’d be on Morgan’s good side, too.
“No shot in hell, big guy.”
Present Time . . .
That’s how it all started - this sibling-like rivalry. Ever since then, we’ve been challenging each other like our lives depended on it. And if I had to make it my life’s mission to win this most recent bet, then so be it.
“Alright, kitten, I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll pick you up at 9 on Saturday.”
We sealed the deal with a cross-table handshake, and at that moment, I hadn’t realized it - only when I thought back to it, did I notice - Reid had been watching the entire interaction unfold. Misinterpreting every painstaking second of it.
_ _ _
Sticking true to his word, Derek had taken up my offer in spades. Not the least bit shy in delegating me each and every duty there could possibly be.
I’ll admit, he used my pride to his advantage. Because while I was practically doing all the handy-work imaginable inside the property, he was resting on his laurels outside, probably taking up the view of rolling green hills that went on forever just beyond the front yard.
It just so happened that that would be our maintained, respective locations for the unexpected arrival of Derek’s very first (very unhappy) guest.
I was inside painting when I heard the placid squeak of Derek getting up from his Adirondack chair on the wraparound porch. I remember peeking my head out of the doorway for a second to see if he was finally going to come inside and help me, but lo and behold, I caught him walking further away from the entrance. While I might’ve given an eye roll of annoyance at the action, I thought nothing of it. Not until I heard Derek speaking to an eerily familiar secondary voice.
“What are you doing here?” I could hear Derek ask. My ears had perked up like a dog on high alert.
“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to … to -” The second voice stammered.
“Spit it out, kid!”
“You’re trying to steal my girl!” Whoever it was, was desperate to speak with conviction, maybe even malice, to prove some level of strength that could match Derek’s, but they tried and failed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steal your girl? What the hell are you talking about, man?”
“You know I like her! And yet you’re just hanging out with her alone now? On one of your desolate properties? Can’t you see how suspicious that looks? You’re supposed to be my friend.”
I’d stopped painting completely at this point so I could take asylum behind the closed door. I could place that voice anywhere, and I needed to press my ear against the only thing separating it from me to confirm what I already knew.
“Reid, I am your friend,” And there it was. Reid? “And as your friend, I’m telling you: lower your voice unless you want her to hear you.”
“Don’t patronize me. Just tell me,” Spencer, if anything, spoke louder. Perhaps he did want me to hear him, or he simply wanted to defy Derek. “Why do you flirt with her?”
“Flirt?” Derek seemed appalled at the word. It would’ve been offensive that he was disgusted at the thought of engaging with me in that manner had I not felt the same way. What we were doing was not flirting - by any stretch of the imagination.
“You know what I’m talking about. You call her ‘Kitten,’ you both make sexual innuendos that you think fly over my head, you invite her to come over.”
“Slow your roll, Pretty Boy. First of all, ‘Kitten’ is just a nickname I gave her the first time we met because I didn’t know what her actual name was. You know that - you were there. Second, the sexual innuendos are just playful jabs at the fact that I sleep around. Low hanging-fruit. Third, inviting her to come over might seem suspicious, but if you walk in there right now, you’ll see that nothing is going on between us. She’s just here to help.”
I wanted any excuse to walk out there myself and announce my nearby presence. Confront Spencer and tell him I heard everything. Ask him where any of this was coming from. How he could think, for even a second, that there was something between me and Morgan.
Turns out, I didn’t need an excuse. I had already walked out.
Spencer gulped hard when he saw me. And for that I felt sorry for him. He looked so unlike himself. His hair was disheveled like he’d ran his fingers through it a million times out of stress. His outfit was strangely untidy, the buttons of his cuff unclasped. “Could you ... did you-”
“I heard everything,” I clarified to the dumbfounded shell of a man standing at the base of Morgan’s stairs.
It was a triangle of stares between us all. Exchanging quizzical glances in a battle of wills to see who would fold first. I was looking at Reid, Reid was looking at me, then he looked at Morgan, who looked back at him, then at me. Like I said, a triangle of stares.
“Um ... I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll just be inside.”
I suppose there were worse ways to finally get Morgan off his ass and working.
Reid trailed Morgan with his eyes, while I simply waited for the sound of the door shutting behind me. It took a few more seconds until one of us had the gall to speak.
“Did you mean what you said? About liking me?” This question that I posed went unanswered for what felt like minutes. Looking at Reid, I could tell he wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what.
The soul was willing, but the flesh was weak.
“If you’re not ready to admit it, that’s okay. But then why did you really come here, Spencer? To yell at Morgan for possibly making a move on me? Because now’s your chance. Make your move, Spence.” I descended the stairs, stopping to stand on the very last step so I’d hover a mere inch above him. “Make a move.”
Make a move, he did.
Warm, clammy hands that were disproportionately bigger than the rest of his body caught my face so that unbelievably, inconceivably soft lips could make their fierce attack with no resistance. His fingers laced through my hair until his hand found the nape of my neck. He used that as leverage to pull me impossibly closer.
When he was just one step away from sucking my soul out of me, I laid my palm on his chest and pushed him slightly backward. I think I heard him laughing when I did this, probably to hide the shame of letting himself commit so fully to the moment that he forgot just how intense his passion was.
His eyes fluttered open and his lips were still contorted in a pucker. It took him a second, but it finally came.
“I meant what I said,” He confessed ever so nonchalantly as though it were the easiest thing in the world to him, despite being unable to come even close to admitting it just minutes before. “I like you. A lot.”
It was me who laughed then, both from the sheer elation hearing him say that brought me and the distant, exasperated comment that came from within the house.
“Well, finally! It’s about damn time!”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
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#spencer reid#spencer reid kiss#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fluff#about time#juniorgman187
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Just like Heaven
Pairings: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 1,641
Summary: Bucky beard is a beautiful distratction when he catches you rockin’ out to 80s music.
Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club continuation of drunk drabbles and the amazing prompt sent in below (that was literally written for me because BEARD!) and Music Era Monday! I was listening to my 80s playlist the whole time I wrote this and I still can’t stop smiling. I hope you enjoy this and it makes you smile! Thank you all for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤
Warnings: Fluffy fun, lots of singing, awesome 80s music, A TRUE LOVE FOR BUCKY’S BEARD! 😁
Bucky stands at your door, knocking for a second time. He can hear your very loud music and knows you most likely can’t hear him knocking. Your singing rings out over the music and he chuckles, giving the door one more hard knock before opening it up.
“She drives me crazy; I can’t help myself…” Your body moves in rhythm to the music, your hand grasping an incredibly old wooden spoon as you belt out the lyrics. Your ponytail is swinging back and forth while your head bops and your socked feet slide across the floor. “I can’t get any rest; people say I’m obsessed.” You haven’t looked up in who knows how long, shaking your hips as you move across the kitchen.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” You let out a shrill scream when your back hits something hard, spinning so fast you whip Bucky with your hair and throw the spoon in his face. His very hairy face. “Oh Bucky! HOLY CRAP! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear or see you and then you were just there.” You’re yelling over the music, eyes wide.
Your focus moves back to very fluffy looking beard he has going on and you find your thoughts wandering. “Can we lower the music, doll?” Your eyes shoot back to his, your forehead creasing in confusion. “What?” Bucky just smiles and walks around you, hitting the power button on your speakers.
“I said. Can we lower the music?” he laughs. “Oh, yea, of course, thanks for shutting it, I couldn’t hear a damn thing.” Giving you a very “duh” look he holds up your wooden spoon. “Great mic! I think it might be older than me.” You stalk over and take it from his hand, “oh shut up. You mean you never sang into a spoon when you were little?”
Bucky watches your eyes flick back down to his beard. “Something on my face, doll?” Your cheeks warm and you pretend to fix your socks. “No, no. Um, anyway. Did you need me?” Bucky looks like he wants to say more but instead asks, “what were you listening to? It’s really fun!” Your whole face brightens as you grab your phone and show him your 80s playlist. “It’s all music from the 1980s and it is really fun! I’m glad you like it!”
He scrolls through your phone, stopping at ‘Take on Me.’ “There is a band with the name ‘A-ha’?” he questions, making a funny face at your phone. You take the moment to study his face again, his dark beard covering most of his cheeks, your fingers itching to touch it. “I wanna hear this one,” he says, pressing play and handing you back your phone.
Your eyes flick to his beard one last time before the synthesized piano kicks in. Bucky smiles, tapping his foot to the music. You start singing, once again dancing around your room. Bucky takes your hand and twirls you. “Woooooo! Today's another day to find you shying away, I'll be coming for your love, okay?” You sing into your spoon much to Bucky’s amusement and delight.
He pulls you into his chest, circling one arm around your waist while his metal hand holds yours. “Oh my gosh, Buck, this is like the waltz. Not at all for the 80’s!” You laugh and throw your arms around his neck. “What am I supposed to do then, huh? You show me,” he asks before picking you up and spinning around. Your laughter rises over the music as you cling to him. “Not this either but it’s so fun!”
When he finally puts you down the next song has started, and you start to jump in happiness but quickly stumble from dizziness. “Woah, doll.” Bucky catches you in his arms, “sorry. Too many spins, huh?” You giggle and right yourself, your face now awfully close to his. Your hand inches up his chest and just as you’re about to stroke his beard you hear Steve’s voice over the AI.
“Bucky, what the hell. We were supposed to go for a run 20 minutes ago!” Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh. “All we do is run!” You laugh and go to lower the music again. “Did you need something?” Bucky’s phone buzzes and he picks it up, shouting into it, “I’m coming Steve, one sec!” He abruptly hangs up and smiles, “yeah actually. Do you have headphones I can borrow? I hate running without music and I can’t find mine anywhere.”
“Sure! I can send you my 80s playlist too, if you want, so you can give it a listen on your run?” He steals the spoon from your hand, saying, “only if I can bring this to sing.” Rolling your eyes you take his phone, setting up the playlist and handing him the headphones.
“All set! Enjoy your run. And gimme back my mic!” Holding out your hand you wait until he gives it back, running over and turning the volume back up. “Won’t you come see about me, I’ll be alone dancing, you know it baby” You give him a wave as he walks to the door, smiling the whole time. “See you later, doll.” Flipping your hair around you sing to him, “don’t you forget about me.”
With one final laugh he shuts the door and you put down your spoon. Leaning against the counter you take a long drink of water, your thoughts drifting back to how good he looks with the beard. “Shit,” you mutter, just as “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” starts to play.
Later that night you head to the common room, excited to find it empty. You plug in your phone, scrolling through your 80s playlist. You’ve been listening to it all day, loving it even more now that you shared it with Bucky. You decide on ‘Invisible Touch’ by Genesis and head to the kitchen. Since you don’t have your wooden spoon handy you grab one of Tony’s fancy spatulas, one you’re sure he’s never actually used before.
“And now it seems I’m falling, falling for her. She seems to have an invisible touch.” You whip around like Allison in The Breakfast Club, throwing your hands up. Wiggling over to the fridge you start pulling out the necessities for a sandwich. “Hey, wanna make me one while you’re at it?” You feel his presence more than hear his question, whipping around to find Bucky standing at the island.
Dancing over you lean into him, “did you say something?” He takes your phone and lowers the volume, smirking when he sees your playlist. “Invisible Touch, huh? I really like that one. The lyrics to these songs are great. I’ve been listening to your playlist nonstop today!” You squeal in happiness! “That’s awesome Bucky. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. And what did you say before?”
“Oh yea, do you mind making me a sandwich since you’re making one?” Picking up your spatula mic you dance back to the counter. “Not at all. Ham, cheese and mayo, right?” He gives you a thumbs up, turning the volume louder. ‘Hungry like the Wolf’ comes on and you give a loud whoop. “I LOVE THIS ONE!”
“Dark in the city, night is a wire,” you sing into your spatula. Bucky grabs a whisk and starts singing along, “woman, you want me, give me a sign. And catch my breathing even closer behind.” You can’t stop smiling as you sing together, the music moving through your body like the very blood in your veins.
When the song ends you finish up the sandwiches, placing Bucky’s down in front of him. “Let’s eat!” He grabs the sandwich and holds it up to his mouth but not before saying, “good, because I’m hungry like the wolf.” You almost spit out your bite at his corny line, grabbing your water to take a drink. “Wow, I’ve converted you in one day! Awesome!”
You eat while listening to Heart’s ‘These Dreams.’ You notice Bucky has some mayo on his beard. Reaching over the island you brush your thumb over the soft hair, your mouth parting at the contact. “There’s still more.” His tongue darts out to lick it off but he doesn’t get it all. “Gone?” he asks, his voice suddenly much deeper.
Shaking your head, you swipe your thumb over the spot once more, this time getting it all. You close your mouth to stop the moan that almost escapes and your thighs clench together as your mind once again races with thoughts of how good his beard would feel on your body. “Doll?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts and you sit down with a plop. ‘Crazy for You,’ comes on and Bucky’s eyes sparkle.
He rounds the island and gently picks you up off the stool, taking you in his arms and holding you close. “It’s all brand new, I’m crazy for you.” You laugh, loving that he already knows some of the lyrics. “So, am I crazy or are you a big fan of the beard?” You suck in a breath, surprised and a little embarrassed that he picked up on your (all too obvious) weakness over his facial hair.
“Soon we two are standing still in time. If you read my mind, you'll see, I’m crazy for you.” You sing the words quietly, hoping your meaning gets across. Bucky gets the message. His lips meet yours, softly at first and the light brush of his beard over your soft skin makes you moan into his mouth. ‘I'm crazy for you. Touch me once and you'll know it's true, I never wanted anyone like this. It's all brand new. You'll feel it in my…’ The lyrics fade away just as Bucky’s hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss and it feels just like heaven.
@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @bucky-on-my-mind @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @the-wayward-robot
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x reader fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#beard kink#80s music#1980s music#sebastian stan#marvel#hbc drunk drabbles#hbc music eras monday#ladies of the hbc
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32 and you know it’s minicat :D
I love when you pick Minicat
Number: 32Prompt: Person A mumbles “stop biting your lip” and uses their thumb to drag person B’s lip out from between their teeth, only to press forward and kiss their chapped lipsPairing: Minicat
Tyler’s boyfriend sucked at taking care of himself. It was a known fact to anyone who knew Mini, honestly. Too wrapped up in writing the next screenplay or running a set of lines with his leading lady, Craig honestly was a trainwreck waiting to smash into himself. Food wasn’t a thought until his stomach threatened to eat itself, sleep was tossed in between scene breaks, and Tyler once had to duct tape a water bottle to Mini’s arm to remind him to drink something during hell week. It was like having a child sometimes, and if Tyler didn’t love the theater major so much, he’d kill him.
“Oh my god, this is so fucking good. I literally could have sex with you on this stage right now.” Tyler rolled his eyes at Craig’s dramatics when he stuffed another spoon of rice into his mouth, moaning around the cheap Chinese food like it was a banquet. The lights of the stage were lowered, as they were the only two left in the auditorium. Craig had let the others go home while he played with the lighting for the final act, which was where Tyler found him twenty minutes ago (an hour after rehearsal was done). His strong glare and ‘guiding’ shoves got Mini to plop down on the stage, though his protests quickly died at the sight of the brown bags of food. “Seriously, I haven’t tasted something so amazing in weeks.”
“It’s literally mall food.” He’d picked it up after leaving his job at the movie theater, since everything else was already closed.
“Mall Chinese food is the best. Wait, are those Crab Rangoon? Gimme gimme gimme-”
“Chew what’s in your mouth first.” Tyler used his chopsticks to poke Mini’s nose, making him rear back to his own plate. Sure, he’d bought the stinky fried globs for Craig, but the last thing he wanted to do was perform the Heimlich with the crab still in his boyfriend’s mouth.
“Fine.” As if they were still in kindergarten (Tyler remembered the chubby face too small for his round glasses glaring up at him), Mini pouted, letting his lower lip pop out. Tyler’s gaze turned calculated when he glanced to the mouth, picking up on the worried skin.
“Stop stressing about your show; it’s going to be fine.” The call out had Craig blinking before he sucked the lip back between his teeth, as if hiding the evidence from Tyler.
“I’m not stressed.” He even said it with the skin caught in place, slightly muffling his tone.
“Yeah? Then why are you biting your lip so much?” To prove his point, Tyler rocked forward onto his knees, avoiding their dinner to cup Craig’s cheek in his hand. “You do this whenever you’re panicking. Which is every time one of your pieces is about to premiere. Then your show does amazing, and I’m stuck kissing sandpaper lips for a week. I ain’t a fan. So stop it with the lip biting.”
“You…really think my shows are good?” The unsure tone that rarely made an appearance in Mini’s character appeared quietly, because it wasn’t just physical health Craig never thought about. But Tyler knew how to handle it. He’d been doing it for decades, afterall. Slowly, his thumb moved across the worn down skin, dislodging it from teeth that sunk in too deep for Tyler’s comfort.
“Only ones I give a shit about. So relax.” Then he dipped forward, ignoring the slight scrape of broken skin to kiss the greasy salt off Mini’s lips. At first, it felt awkward, kissing Craig on stage. But the moment soon settled into quietness, the echo of the silent audience making the gentle press of lips feel more intimate than normal. Craig’s soft breath of relief flickered over Tyler’s mouth before the kiss was returned, lazy arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. A shift to the left made the two fall into each other, food forgotten for something more tantalizing.
Craig didn’t need to take care of himself; Tyler would always be there to do it for him.
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HEAVEN SENT // HELL BENT
Hey, so, being extra I decided to do a two part playlist for SAMAEL. First one is metal flavor, second one is southern gothic. Liner notes and links below the cut. :V
(Art credit for the covers to Cam!)
HEAVEN SENT / (side a)
BISHOP PIERRE CAUCHON: The church opens her arms to you, but if you do not sign, the Church will turn her back to you, and you will stand alone.
JOAN OF ARC: Alone? Yes, alone....with God!
--The Passion of Joan of Arc
Leo Hawke, the human bound to the divine.
ULTRAnumb (Blue Stahli)
Violated, so degraded
The show has just begun
Dominated by all you hated
This will make you ultranumb
Drag Me to Hell (Lord of the Lost)
The more I reach out for Heaven
The more you drag me to Hell
Better the Devil (Tim Skold)
Tear my soul apart
Drown me in your sea of darkness
I’ll be your lucky star
If you promise that you’ll never let me go
Better the Devil you know
Losing My Religion (Lacuna Coil)
Oh, life
It’s bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I would go to
The distance in your eyes
Devil in My Life (Grace Jones)
Devil in my life, treading on thin ice
With your words so wise, always in disguise
Devil in my life, I’ve seen it in your lies
Slowly mesmerized, as I fall you rise
Operation: Mindcrime (Queensryche)
It just takes a minute
And you’ll feel no pain
Gotta make something of your life, boy
Gimme one more vein
You’ve come to see the doctor ‘cause he’ll show you the cure
I’m gonna take away your questions, yeah
I’m gonna make you sure
Wings of Feather and Wax (Killer be Killed)
I never stopped to notice
The fire in your hand
A burning so consuming
But now I understand
And now I’ve fallen like Icarus to land
Too late to kill the flames I fanned
Ambassador (Evergrey)
I am light to cast away shadow
Spirit, Holy Ghost, and even Jesus
God walking Earth
Ambassador
Just Like You (Celldweller)
It’s the dark of night and I’m at the end of my line
Alone in my head and waiting for something divine
To answer me
Drowning in silence, the internal violence
I pray to make it through
Flight on an Angel’s Wing (Deadsoul Tribe)
Come with me, my friend
Come with me and clear your mind
So tired of the lies they laid upon you
Open your eyes and you’ll see
I’m going to take a flight on an angel’s wing
Far and away
She’ll carry me home
Small Town Boy (Paradise Lost)
Mother will never understand why you had to leave
But the answers you seek will never be found at home
No, the love that you want will never be found at home
Run away, turn away
A Demon’s Fate (Within Temptation)
Angels have faith
I don’t want to be a part of his sin
I don’t want to get lost in his world
I won’t play this game
Gates of Hell (Timeless Miracle)
Far beyond the gates of Hell
Tricked the Devil, broke his spell
Traveling ‘round the River Styx to freedom
A Grave Mistake (Ice Nine Kills)
But I heard that you reap what you sow
So here’s to believing in ghosts
And when you see my face you’ll know
You can’t save yourself or save your soul
When you meet the man whose life you stole
On weathered wings and broken bones
A fight for the fallen, flies the Crow
Lost and Damned (Kamelot)
Don’t ask why
Don’t be sad
Sometimes we all must alter paths we’ve planned
Only try to understand
I want to save you from the lost and damned
House of Eternal Hunt (Avatar)
It’s my time
My darkness, my might divine
It has been foretold this land
Will live and die by my hand
Child to the moon and the storm
Silent shadow growing
I’m reborn
Darkling (Sirenia)
You’ve got to chase your demons on the run
Put out their fires, their dark desires
The exorcism has begun
Slaying all, leaving none
/ HELL BENT (side b)
If there is a hell, it’s what Christians have made of this world, in Christ’s name.
-- Ammon Hennacy, The Book of Ammon
Lyon Hawke, the angel who fell to earth.
Angels Look Like Hell (Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band)
The Devil don’t live down in Hell
The Devil’s right here, doing very well
And it’s hard to tell
It’s hard to tell
When devils look like angels
And angels look like hell
Old Devils (William Elliot Whitmore)
From behind these bars the view don’t change
Desperation, death and despair
From what I hear of the outside world
It ain’t so different out there
And they tell me there’s a war without no end
The old devils are at it again
In the Branches (The Builders and the Butchers)
They left angels singing in the branch of a burning tree
Said it was all a game
His daddy went and twisted in the bed that he made
And you’ll end up the same
He went down, down, down
Down where the fire is born
Birds with Broken Wings (Ben Caplan)
I climbed up a mountain just to kill my son
An angel tried to stop me with a ram
Well, he said “Your mind’s infected”
But I said “You lack perspective!”
You gotta walk the bottom if you wanna see the top
Sins of My Father (Tom Waits)
Does the light of God blind you
Or lead the way home for you
I’m gonna take the sins of my father
I’m gonna take the sins of my brother
I’m gonna take the sins of my mother
Down to the pond
Laplace’s Angel (Will Wood and the Tapeworms)
You could break an angel’s fall
And ignore the devil’s call
Still forsaken shoulders fall silent now
It’s no more than cultural
You and me, inseparable
It’s a small Hell, after all
Boy, Decide! (Murder by Death)
There’s a son
He is born with a silver spoon in his mouth
Go on, boy, admit
There’s gotta be something you love
Enough to protect
Caves (Brown Bird)
The corners of the heart are caves
That echo with the bloodcurling cries of babes
We’ve sheltered in a shadow of a doubt
Where faith is abated by design
Dream of Sleep (The Peculiar Pretzelmen)
When I dream
I dream of sleep
And when I sleep
I never dream
I’m bending and I’m breaking
Under weight of the secrets that I keep
Funeral March (Strawfoot)
Good riddance to you
You’re in the clear
You watched me dying
Never shed no tear
I used to be a man ‘til lines were drawn
Oh, I’m marching on
Old Pine Box (Those Crooked Bastards)
Brother, I have never not been lost
The apples on the tree have turned to rot
And all around I feel the Lord’s eyes watching
If you think I’m gonna whimper
Well, I’m not
Throw me in an old pine box
And nail that lid on top
Some of Adam’s Blues (Quaker City Nighthawks)
My name was written
In the foundation
Despite our faithlessness
You bring salvation
And now I know it’s true
God’s Gonna Cut You Down (Johnny Cash)
You may throw your rock
Hide your hand
Workin’ in the dark against your fellow man
But as sure as God made black and white
What is done in the dark will be brought to the light
Strawfoot (Sixteen Horsepower)
I am not alone
And looks can be deceiving
When you get down to it
You’re talking when you should be leaving
Why is it you don’t want what he’s giving?
It ain’t no sin, son, to be forgiven
Dynamite (Devil Makes Three)
I know that it’s coming
I ain’t worried now
‘Cause we got enough here to go around
And every single person gonna get them some
Hell’s Coming With Me (Poor Man’s Poison)
I am the righteous hand of God
And I am the Devil that you forgot
And I told you one day you will see
I’ll be back, I guarantee
And that Hell’s coming with me
I’m Always Walking as Somebody Else (American Murder Song)
Traveler I am
Knock-two-three-four
God is in your country
The Devil’s at your door
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bustin out the mpreg fluff as everyone else busts out the porn lol
Pt. 3 of Otayuri mpreg adventures
It's two in the morning and Yuri just wants a damn cheeseburger.
ao3 or under the cut
“Beka…”
“Mmmm…?”
“Beka, wake up.”
“Wha… what time is it?”
Yuri purses his lips, but continues to softly, yet urgently jostle Otabek by the bicep. There are more much more important matters to worry about than a little thing like the time.
“Beka, please…”
Otabek finally groans and rolls over to face Yuri, an arm flung over one eye as the other seeks out the digital alarm clock on the side table, just past the bulge of Yuri’s six-and-half-month pregnant belly.
“Yura…”
“Beka…”
“It’s two in the morning…”
“I know, but—”
Otabek cuts him off with a sharp sigh, thumbs going to massage his temples.
“Babe… you promised me no more middle-of-the-night snack runs.”
Yuri huffs, folding his arms atop of his belly in defiance.
“I can’t exactly help it—”
Otabek clucks his tongue and Yuri really doesn’t think he appreciates the sound of it. Before he can vocalize that thought, Otabek cuts in again.
“I know. Yura, I know. It’s just—I also know you know I have to be up for practice at five—”
Yuri splutters indignantly. “Yeah, well, you went to bed at like nine last night—”
“—and this is the third time this week—”
Yuri scoffs as Otabek rails on, voice increasing in speed and volume.
“And I seriously can’t help but think you’re just doing this on purpose to test my patience at this point!”
The air stales in the ensuing silence, Yuri biting his lip to quell the impending outburst.
Yuri briefly catches Otabek side eyeing him, frozen in horror as Yuri’s lip trembles and small whine escapes, inevitably bubbling over into a broken wail.
“Yura!” Otabek cries, clearly exasperated, as Yuri’s sobs grow more forceful.
“Yuri, shhh, you’re going to wake the neighbors up again—”
“Is that all you care about?” Yuri whines through big, fat, theatrical tears that he honestly can’t really help, but isn’t really trying to hold back.
“Of course not, Yurachka, it’s just—”
“When your pregnant as fuck mate is right next to you, fucking starving and in a hormonal rampage no thanks to you,” Yuri sneers through hiccupping sobs and judging by the way Otabek draws in a tight breath he knows he’s pushing his mate to his wit’s end, but once he gets this wound up this tight he can’t stop until he—
“Come on, Yuri! You can’t just cry me into getting you McDonald’s at fuck-all-o’clock in the morning every fucking time you—!”
—snaps—
“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING STOP!”
Yuri is gasping ragged breaths by the time he’s done, and one glance at Otabek tells him he’s really gone too far this time.
“Yuri…” Otabek breathes, features twisted into something in between concern and shock.
Great. As if he needed another outburst to add to the stockpile of reasons for Otabek to leave him before the pup’s even born. Yuri wouldn’t even blame him at this point.
“Yura, relax,” Otabek says, barely a whisper, and it isn’t until his hand is hovering cautiously over Yuri’s own that he realizes he’s shaking.
Before his brain can catch up with his actions, Yuri’s pulling away his hand as if its been burnt.
“Don’t touch me,” Yuri rasps back belatedly.
He needs to get away from here. Yuri shuffles to his left so that his feet are off the side of the bed. He uses the side table to hoist himself up, breathing deep for a few moments to steady himself.
Otabek doesn’t say a word as Yuri slips out the door.
Yuri sits cross-legged on the couch, staring into the black of the television screen as he works slowly on his next spoonful of peanut butter. He strokes absent-mindedly at the bulgiest part of his tummy where his spawn has been kicking up a storm for the better part of the last hour, clearly an act of spite for waking her up in the middle of the night.
Tears are rolling silently down his cheeks when Otabek rounds the corner, softly knocking at the partition between the hallway and the living room. Yuri sniffles and makes quick work of brushing the tear tracks away.
“Hey,” comes Otabek’s voice, soft and cautious.
“Hey,” comes Yuri’s response around the mouthful of peanut butter he’s still working on.
“Can we talk?” Otabek ventures a little further into the room. Yuri tenses up, because when is the phrase ‘can we talk’ ever indicative of anything good? Still, Otabek’s never been that sensitive to layered meanings and Yuri nods ‘yes’ anyway, scooting towards the far end of the couch so that Otabek can take a seat a safe distance away.
Yuri is still staring into the empty television when Otabek sits down, legs spread wide enough to touch the edge of Yuri’s pinky toe that’s hanging off of the couch. He draws back instinctively, but sighs when he earns a vaguely hurt expression from Otabek in his peripheral.
“You know I don’t hate you…” Yuri starts lamely, letting the sentence hang in the air before he’s interrupted by a sharp kick to his bladder. “Ow, fuck.”
“I know. Is she keeping you up?” Otabek tentatively reaches out towards where Yuri is kneading at his belly, hand hovering and eyes questioning.
Yuri shoots him a guarded look, but it melts down quickly. He’s too tired to keep up the act and his wrist is cramping anyways. He grabs Otabek’s hand and guides it towards where the baby is kicking.
Otabek huffs what counts as a small laugh for him as he takes over the gentle massage.
“Feels like she’s kickboxing your guts.”
Yuri grimaces. “Yeah. Payback for waking her up I guess…”
Otabek hums noncommittally as they lapse into a silence that’s not exactly tense, but is slightly weighted on top of the exhaustion that’s clearly settling over them both.
Yuri’s the first to give into the exhaustion and follows his instinct, setting the thoroughly licked spoon down on the coffee table sothat he can slide back into Otabek’s chest. Otabek accommodates him easily, shifting so that his back is against the armrest and one leg is behind Yuri. Yuri adjusts so that he’s lying sideways on top of him. He noses at Otabek’s neck, relaxing at the familiar scent.
Otabek’s other hand snakes around to stroke at Yuri’s elbow, thumbing tenderly at the skin there as his other hand continues to massage just below his bellybutton.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” Otabek sighs into Yuri’s hair, before pressing a long, sweet kiss into the crown of his head.
Yuri tenses up at the admission, and it’s not long after that his face is scrunching up in a sniffle that he tries to suppress — which unfortunately, just leads to more tears leaking from his eyes.
“Fuck!” Yuri whispers through a hiccupping little sob, hiding his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck while gripping helplessly onto the collar of his boyfriend’s shirt.
“Shhhh,” Otabek breathes into his hair, nosing along his scalp and peppering the occasional kiss there. “It’s okay, Yura.”
“Ugh!” Yuri beats a fist half-heartedly into Otabek’s chest once he’s gained control of his breath. “It’s not, though, Beka! I’m the one who should be sorry. I know I’ve been a fucking pain in the ass—for months now. I know I’m doing it, but I can’t stop, and I—” he chokes on a small sob before forcing through his tears, “I feel like I’m pushing you away,” Yuri sniffles, voice small and fragile.
“Yuri…”
Otabek sighs and for a split-second Yuri is genuinely anxious that he’s simply going to agree. Instead, Otabek lifts his hand from Yuri’s belly to tilt his chin up so they can lock eyes. Yuri knows his own eyes must be gross and puffy and bloodshot, so he quickly lifts a hand to cover them.
“Yuri…” Otabek sighs again, this time with a hint of laughter behind his tone that convinces Yuri to let his boyfriend gently remove the hand over his eyes.
Yuri sends an exaggerated pout in Otabek’s direction as his mate thumbs gently at the tear tracks he can feel starting to stick to his skin.
Otabek smiles softly in return, that rare, dope-y lovesick one that would leave Yuri weak at the knees if he weren’t already lying down.
“I don’t know if you realized it yet, but you’re pregnant, kotik.”
Yuri rolls his eyes and huffs at that, but Otabek just presses a kiss to his hairline before continuing, “Cravings, hormones… temper tantrums...” Otabek pauses meaningfully and smirks, the bastard, “They’re all part of the experience. And besides, if you being an ‘asshole’ is what was supposed to drive me away, I think that would’ve happened a long time ago.”
Yuri’s mouth drops open at that and he has every intention of verbally chewing his mate out, except he really can’t help the way his mouth twists into a grin on its own accord.
“You are a fucking dick!” Yuri manages between disbelieving laughter, slapping Otabek hard enough on the chest that his breath gets knocked out of him.
“If you’re the asshole and I’m the dick, we fit together perfectly—,” Otabek positively leers before leaning down and blowing a raspberry into the crook of Yuri’s neck.
“Gross!” Yuri cries out, giggling as Otabek assaults his neck, raspberries devolving into a deep chuckle that vibrates against Yuri in a way that causes a shiver up his spine…
… and an attention-starved baby to make her presence known once more.
“Ow, okay, okay, Beka, stop— she— oh…”
Otabek detaches himself from Yuri’s neck instantly, peering down as Yuri clutches at the round of his stomach.
“Yuri?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just gimme a minute—” Yuri bites out, palming at the spot where he’s cramping up.
Otabek’s hand joins him as the pain starts to subside.
“Just two more months,” Otabek sighs, gently stroking over Yuri’s bellybutton. His eyes flutter closed and he sinks deeper into the couch, pulling Yuri more firmly against his chest.
“Try two and a half. Don’t try to pretend those last two weeks aren’t going to be hell… I already feel fucking huge. If I can’t walk, you’re gonna have to carry me everywhere,” Yuri yawns, snuggling into Otabek’s chest as his own eyelids grow heavy with fatigue.
He feels Otabek scoff from the rise of his chest against his cheek but before his mate can get a word in, Yuri continues, “Also, you owe me a McDonald’s breakfast if I wake up with a fucked up back from sleeping like this.”
“Brat,” Otabek whispers behind a short laugh and Yuri smirks against his collarbone in return.
“You love me.”
“I do,” Otabek replies, and Yuri can feel him smiling lazily against his hair.
The next morning, Yuri smiles as he wakes up to the smell of egg McMuffins and hash browns.
“I figured it was better not to risk it,” Otabek is leaning smugly against the kitchen counter and ready to explain when Yuri cracks an eye open.
“I love you so much,” Yuri groans dramatically before burying his face into one of the throw pillows.
“I know,” Otabek responds with a laugh.
And even though Yuri’s back does kind of have a crick in it, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything – even for a two in the morning food-run.
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MOAR WEREWOLF!JUNGKOOK AND VAMP!READER, OMG IT WAS SO CUTE AND SO WELL WRITTEN AND I HAD A LOT OF FUN READING IT ;; v ;; !!!!!
another anon request: MORE OF WEREWOLF!JUNGKOOK AND VAMPIRE!OC😭💖 some fluff would be really nice,,,,,maybe a confession??? and a cute kiss with them accidentally bumping fangs omg😭😭😭😭 thank u so much, i love u and your writing, bless you!!🙏💕
Moonlight In Your Hands
Summary: You and Jungkook have long conquered your fear of talking to each other and becoming friends. Now it’s time to conquer the next one (vampire!au; werewolf!au)
“Senior year.”
“I know. Can you believe it?” Jungkook turns to look at you, grinning. “The vampire princess is part of the fucking upperclassmen.” You’re quick to punch his arm, but he’s hardly phased as he laughs heartily, the straps of his bag almost slipping clean off his shoulders.
“Shut up, you mutt,” you retort, frowning as you fix your sunglasses.
“Ooh. Feeling feisty today?”
“Shut up.” Jungkook all but cackles as he follows behind you, draping his arm over your shoulders when he catches up. “Jerk.”
“I’m kidding,” he says, nuzzling the side of your head with his nose. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a snack before class starts.”
▫▫▫
You noisily sip at your smoothie, sitting under the shade of a tree as you watch Jungkook and Taehyung play wrestle on the grass.
“Idiots,” Jimin says, laughing beside you as he steals your drink and takes a sip. “It’s as if they think they’re still a pair of pups.”
“How embarrassing,” you reply. “I can’t believe there was a time I thought Jungkook was too cool to talk to.” Jimin hums in agreement, leaning back against the tree trunk behind you both.
“And look how far you’ve come.”
“_____!” You turn your attention back to the two wolves, hair disheveled and covered in strands of grass. “Keep score,” Jungkook calls out. “The loser’s buying dinner.”
“And exactly how do I keep score?” you ask. “I have no idea how this works.”
Jungkook is about to reply, but a snarl from Taehyung cuts him off, and he’s flipped over onto his back by the elder, hitting the ground with a quiet thud. You and Jimin share a look before rolling your eyes.
▫▫▫
“Evening, son. _____.” Jungkook’s father stops in his tracks, stepping back to peer into the living room once more. “_____?” Quickly, you rush to your feet, bowing politely in greeting.
“Good evening, sir,” you greet, smiling a little.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight,” he replies, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “How are your parents? Are they well?”
“Yes, sir. Dad says he’s looking forward to another round of midnight golf with you next week.”
“Ah, yes.” Jungkook’s father chuckles, and you watch as the moonlight pouring in from the windows bounces off his canines. “Tell him to bring his A-game with him. I have no intention of losing twice in one month.”
“Sure thing, sir,” you reply, bowing again as he waves you off, motioning for you to return to the living room with Jungkook.
“Pfft. Golf,” Jungkook mutters as you sit back down next to him, not taking his eyes off of the television screen, thumbs frantically mashing at the buttons on his controller. “What an old man game.” You snort and pick up your textbook again, resting it on your lap.
“Tell me about it.” You flip through pages, blindly reaching out for one of your blood-infused gummy bears. “Are you not gonna study too?”
“Nah,” Jungkook replies, eyeing your hand as you reach out for a snack. He can see that your hand is not moving in the direction of your snacks, but of his – his meat chews. “Human anatomy’s always been a breeze for me, and if anything confuses me… meh. I’ll just borrow your notes.”
“You know what? Normally, that’d annoy me. But that’s how I feel about the blood and plasma mod–”
Jungkook desperately tries to hold back his laughter when you suddenly stop talking, frozen in your spot as the foul taste of raw meat surely starts to sink into your tastebuds.
“What. The. Fuck,” you say, spitting out the meat chew, disgust written all over your face. At your expression, Jungkook just can’t hold back anymore, falling onto his back and laughing, controller clattering against the hardwood floor when he drops it. “What the hell is this?”
His booming howls fill the room as you stare incredulous at the two bags of snacks lying side by side on the floor in front of you. The taste lingers in your mouth, and you search frantically for something to wash your mouth out with.
“You– I can’t believe– oh my god,” Jungkook pants, sitting up as he wipes the corners of his eyes where tears had begun to form, slightly breathless.
“Did you do that?” you ask, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Woah, hey. You can’t blame me for your own stupidity, _____.”
“That was totally you, wasn’t it? You moved your bag closer to mine so that I’d end up eating one of your nasty-ass meat chews.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
Annoyed, you lunge forward, tackling Jungkook to the floor, pining his wrists to the ground as he struggles underneath you. He continues to protest, but the way he chuckles in between words lessens his chances of you believing him. You let your eyes flash red in the hopes of frightening him, but he’s long gotten used to you in all forms, barely flinching at the change in your eye colour.
“I didn’t…” All of a sudden, you feel yourself leaning to the side, and before you can even blink, you’ve been flipped over, gasping as your back hits the floor. “Do it.”
Jungkook’s warm breaths fan across your cheeks as he pants above you, holding you down by your shoulders while your chest heaves as you lay exhausted from having to keep him down.
The air around you both changes immediately, and Jungkook watches the red of your eyes slowly fade back to brown, fangs retracting. The sounds of Jungkook’s video game have turned into background noise and you watch his throat move as he swallows thickly.
This is the first time you’ve looked at Jungkook so closely, and straight away you’re noticing things you’ve never seen before: the small scar on his left cheek that hasn’t fully healed yet, the little mole beneath his bottom lip, and the barest hints of stubble on his chin.
This is strange. There’s a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach, and you swear he leans forward just a fraction.
“Um. Jungkook?”
“Mmm?” He blinks silently, and then, as if something clicks in his head, Jungkook bolts up, pushing himself off of you before you can say anything else.
His eyes shift around the room, scratching his head and avoiding your gaze as you sit up, smoothing out your hair and fixing your sweater. You both move back to where you’d been sitting, Jungkook picking up his controller again but hesitant to start another game as he watches you drum your fingers against your textbook cover.
“Um.” You’re the first to break the silence. “I… I should go.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, voice soft. You pack up your things in silence, not forgetting your back of blood-infused gummy bears. You smile a little when you both meet each other’s eyes, giving him a small wave goodbye. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” you say. “G’night, Kook.”
▫▫▫
“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up,” Taehyung says, holding his hands out in front of him as you take a seat at the table beside Jungkook. You watch as he sniffs the air, Jimin turning to look at him confusedly.
“What? What’re you smelling?” he asks, watching Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow as his nose twitches.
“It’s weird. I think… I smell pheromones.” Jimin raises an eyebrow.
“Tae, there are couples swarming in this cafeteria. That’s not really something new.”
“No, no, no. This is different. I haven’t smelled this before. Do you smell it too, Jungkook?”
Jungkook looks up, spoon hanging out of his mouth as he sniffs the air.
“I don’t smell anything,” he says, turning to you. “Do you smell something?” You snort and lean back in your seat, sipping on your lunch.
“Yeah. I smell wet dog and the beautiful aroma of type A blood.”
“How do you always have A with you?” Jimin groans, leaning over the table to grab your drink from your hands. “Gimme a sip. Have mercy on this peasant, vampire princess.” Jungkook looks at you both with disgust, Taehyung still busy sniffing the air. Jimin all but moans as he takes a sip of your drink, sinking in his seat.
“You guys are nasty,” Jungkook says.
“Shut up. I only ever get to drink A on my birthday. Let me enjoy this.”
“Wait. If you drink A all the time, what were you drinking on your birthday last year, _____?”
“AB,” you reply, reaching into your bag for another bag of blood (Jimin makes sure to make an indignant sound at another full bag of A in your hands). “But AB’s kinda gross. I don’t understand how my parents love it so much.”
“Okay, seriously,” Taehyung interrupts, hands flat on the table. “Is no one else smelling that?”
“Calm down and eat your lunch, hyung,” Jungkook replies, rolling his eyes.
(What Jungkook won’t admit is that he does smell the pheromones Taehyung is talking about – and he knows exactly where they’re coming from.)
▫▫▫
“Jungkook? Jungkook.”
“Huh?” Jungkook stops staring at the whorl in the wood of the dining table and looks up to find his parents and older brother looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, hyung. What’d you say?”
“I asked if you’re still down to go hunting this weekend with me and dad,” Junghyun replies.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, hyung,” Jungkook replies, smiling a little as he turns his attention back to his food.
“You seemed to be awfully distracted lately, sweetheart,” his mother says, head tilted slightly. “Is there something on your mind?”
“I’m fine,” he answers back, a little too quickly for his liking. “I’m fine. Just… you know… school and stuff. Assignments and whatever.”
“Ah.” He listens to his mother sigh wistfully. “I can’t believe my little pup’s already a college senior.”
“Mom, don’t be gross.”
“I feel like it was just yesterday that I had to feed Jungkook with my own b–”
“Mom, please.”
“Honey, not at the table,” his father says, laughing heartily around a mouthful of veal.
“Yeah, mom. I’m eating,” Junghyun adds, scrunching up his nose in distaste.
“I just can’t believe my boys have grown up, that’s all.” Jungkook looks over at his brother, and together, they share a knowing look between them.
“O…kay. Well, can I be excused? I have a paper due on Monday that I still need to work on,” Jungkook says, already standing and picking up his empty plate.
“Sure, son,” his father says. “Call out if you need a hand with anything.”
▫▫▫
At his desk, Jungkook sits at his chair on the verge of falling asleep, his pen already slipping from his fingers’ grasp. But when the piercing ringing of his phone cuts through the silence, he bolts upright, answering the call and bringing it up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Were you asleep?” you ask, chuckling quietly. “Sorry.” Jungkook is now properly awake.
“Nah, I wasn’t sleeping,” he replies. “What’s up?”
“Page forty-two. The question about chemical compositions in humans.” Jungkook laughs, reaching for his textbook and flipping through the pages.
“It’s been three years and you still can’t get the hang of ‘em?”
“Hey, shut up. Their blood is my only concern, okay? I don’t care about the calcium in their bones.” He can’t help but smile when you sigh. “I don’t even know why I decided to take this stupid class.”
“Why did you decide to take up Advanced Human Studies?”
(You know exactly why you’d taken up the class, but you don’t have the guts to admit it to him.)
“Who knows…”
▫▫▫
It’s Saturday night, and you have absolutely no desire to study.
For some reason, everyone has decided to congregate in your home while all your parents have left to play their weekly rounds of golf. During the earlier half of the evening, Taehyung had still been insisting he was smelling something strange, his protests only encouraged when Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to share the same thought.
“Yeah. I mean, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I agree with Taehyung. There’s a different smell in the air,” Yoongi says, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you guys redecorate in here or something?”
“No,” you reply. “Well, I mean, I’m just assuming my mom hasn’t gone decorating crazy again. Me and dad just kind of let her do it whenever, you know?”
“I’m surprised Jungkook’s the only one who can’t smell it though,” Hoseok says. “You have the most sensitive nose out of all of us.”
“I can smell it,” Jungkook says. “I’m just mature enough to ignore it.”
“Ooh. Mature.”
“Wait.” With narrowed eyes, Taehyung crawls over to where Jungkook is sitting, sniffing the air around him. He yelps with surprise and leans back, nose scrunched up. “It’s you!”
“What?” Jungkook asks.
“It’s you! You’re the one who stinks! Smell him, hyung.”
Hoseok leans forward, nosing at Jungkook’s hair, even as the younger tries to push him away, nearly bumping into you in the process. Hoseok’s eyebrows rise with surprise.
“Woah.”
“See?” Taehyung cries out. “That’s probably why I could smell something in the cafeteria the other day too.”
Curious, Yoongi leans forward too, immediately drawing back not long after getting a sniff of Jungkook.
“Woah. Jesus,” he mutters.
“I haven’t smelled something like that since…” Hoseok’s words trail off as he transitions from thoughtfulness to realisation.
“Since when, hyung?” Jimin asks.
“Since Yoongi hyung started dating Namjoon.”
Everyone freezes, all eyes turning towards Jungkook.
▫▫▫
Taehyung is the first to break the silence.
“You dog!” he cries, tackling Jungkook to the ground with a laugh, the younger’s head only narrowly missing your knee. “Who is it?”
“What the f– hyung, get off me!” Jungkook cries, growling beneath Taehyung as he tries to push the elder off. The room is filled with laughter as the rest of the guys watch the two wolves wrestle.
“I will, right after you tell me who you’re dating.”
“No one!”
“Your scent says otherwise, brat.”
“I’m not dating anyone, I swear!”
“So you have a crush on someone then,” Yoongi says with a chuckle as Taehyung relents and sits back, letting Jungkook sit up again. Jungkook sends a snarl in Taehyung’s direction when the elder gives him one last playful shove before returning to his place beside Jimin. “Who is it?”
“Who’s what?” Jungkook mutters, grumbling as he settles himself next to you.
“Who do you have a crush on?”
Jungkook scans the room, meeting everyone’s eyes with a strong gaze. When he reaches you, however, he doesn’t seem to linger as long, and you raise an eyebrow, confused by the way he quickly turns away from you to look at Yoongi.
“No one,” Jungkook says, voice stern.
The shrill ringing of your phone cuts through the tension in the air, but hardly anyone flinches.
“Uh… be right back,” you mumble, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and disappearing into the kitchen.
▫▫▫
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart,” your father says. “Just checking to see that you, your friends and the house are still a hundred percent intact.” You roll your eyes and chuckle.
“We’re fine, dad. Nothing’s broken, and no one’s missing any limbs. Yet.”
“Yet,” he repeats with laughter. “Let’s try and keep things the way they are, shall we?”
“How’s the golf going?”
“We’re up three-to-one. Jeon’s is getting annoyed, I think. But the night is still young. I don’t wanna jinx anything and speak too soon.” You hum in reply. “Oh. Speaking of the Jeons… everything okay with Jungkook?” You furrow your eyebrows.
“Yeah? What do you mean, dad? Jungkook’s fine.”
“It’s just your mother was talking to his mother, and it seems as if he hasn’t been himself at home for the last week or so. Just thought I’d ask you and see if you know of anything that’s happened.”
“Nothing’s coming to mind right now. What’s Mrs. Jeon been saying?”
“Something about Jungkook being a little more distant and distracted than usual. He says it’s just school and whatnot, but she’s not so convinced anymore. If you have a moment, maybe pull him aside and talk to him, sweetheart. Maybe he’ll be more willing to talk to you than his parents.”
“Sure, dad. I’ll give it a shot.”
“Thank you. Alright. I better go before Jeon drives another golf cart into the sand pits again. Your mother restocked the fridge with some more blood bags and some venison if you kids get hungry. Call if anything happens.”
“I will. Knock ‘em dead, dad.”
“You betcha.”
As you hang up, you linger for a little while, your tongue rubbing against the tip of your fang as you think about everything that’s happened in the living room. There’s a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach as you recall the way Jungkook had looked you in the eye, or rather, almost refused to look you in the eye earlier.
It’s strange to think of Jungkook dating anyone, much less having a crush on someone, but the more you dwell on the thought, the more that feeling in your stomach seems to intensify. As you start to make your way back to the living room, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the refrigerator door, surprised to find your eyes a bright red. You blink and blink, rubbing your eyes with a clenched fist until you watch them fade back to their original colour.
▫▫▫
All eyes are on Jungkook, no one moving even when you leave the room. It’s a good half minute, with your voice muffled by the walls, before anyone speaks.
“It’s _____,” Yoongi says.
“What?” Jimin asks.
“It’s _____. The smell isn’t as strong anymore now that she’s left the room.”
Jungkook doesn’t flinch, even as Taehyung leans forward again to sniff the air around the younger, but his jaw clenches as he tries to hold his tongue, watching as Yoongi seems to relax, leaning back into the sofa and turning his attention back to the television, as if nothing had happened.
“Interesting,” Hoseok croons, settling back against Seokjin’s legs with a quiet chuckle.
“How long have you liked her, Kook?” Namjoon asks, reaching out to ruffle Jungkook’s hair with a smile; Jungkook is quick to push his hand away.
“Who says I like her?” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Please,” Taehyung laughs.
“Fine.” Jungkook huffs. “I like _____. So what?” Everyone shrugs, replying with unassuming hums. “Whatever. I need some air. It smells like mutts and blood in here.”
▫▫▫
Tucking your phone into the pockets of your sweatpants, you return to the living room, only to find one person missing.
“Everything okay?” Seokjin asks.
“Yeah,” you reply. “Dad said there’re blood bags and some venison in the fridge if you guys want any.” Everyone gasps and turns to look at you.
“A?” Jimin asks excitedly; you roll your eyes.
“Probably. I told mom about your weird obsession with A.”
“It’s a healthy obsession, thank you very much,” he replies, already standing to run into the kitchen. Taehyung follows right behind him.
“Hey, hey! Bring some to me too,” Yoongi calls out.
“Where’s Jungkook?” you ask.
“Uh,” Namjoon replies. “He said he needed some air. He might’ve gone out the back to the pool.”
“_____,” Jimin says, sticking his head out of the kitchen door, a blood bag held between his teeth. “Do we need to save you some?”
“I already ate before you guys got here,” you reply, shaking your head.
“Hey. You better save some for us though,” Seokjin says.
You’re making your way to the doors leading to the backyard when Taehyung and Jimin jog past you, Jimin clutching armfuls of blood bags, and Taehyung with the entire platter of venison in his grasp.
▫▫▫
You shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie while you walk over to where Jungkook is sitting at the edge of the pool, drawing circles with his feet under the water.
“Hey,” you say, sitting down next to him with your legs crossed.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He sniffles leaning back on his hands. “The hyungs were just being dicks. I needed to get out of there before I ended up destroying your living room.” You chuckle quietly. “Assholes.”
“You sure you’re okay though?”
“Yeah, why?”
“My dad called and he said that your ‘rents are a little worried about you. Something about you being out of it all the time.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” You sense his hesitation, watching his feet still completely, eyes glued to the water. “If it’s nothing though, forget I asked.”
“It’s… kind of related to what the hyungs were going on about in there.” Jungkook reaches up to scratch his head, and that weird feeling in your stomach comes back.
“Oh. So… you’re dating someone.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Like someone?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the stars. “And I don’t really know what to do about it.” He sighs again, before lowering his head to look at you. “Got any advice? I don’t really wanna ask anyone in there because they’re just gonna tease the shit out of me instead of telling me something I could actually use.” You drag your tongue across the tip of your fang.
“You could tell them,” you suggest, looking out at the pool lights and avoiding Jungkook’s eyes, desperately trying to ignore the feeling in your stomach. “It’s probably the last thing you wanna hear, but… you won’t know what to do next until you tell them. Try and keep yourself sane, Kook.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then…
“Alright.” Jungkook takes a deep breath before nodding his head once, turning slightly to face you better. “_____. I… like you.”
With furrowed eyebrows, you turn to look at Jungkook.
“What?”
“I like you.”
“Jungkook, what’re you doing?” you ask, chuckling nervously.
“I’m taking your advice. I’m telling the person I like that I like them and finding out what I need to do next.”
You gape, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water when you’re at a loss for words. “Huh?” is all you manage to say. How eloquent.
“_____. I like you.” Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, falling back to lie on the grass, chuckling softly. “That feels really good to say out loud.”
You feel as if all the wind has been punched out of your lungs while you stay completely still, staring at the tiles that line the edge of the swimming pool. The weird sensation in your stomach has started to change into something warmer, and you can feel your insides flutter as you replay Jungkook’s words in your head over and over again.
“You, um… it’s fine if you don’t like me back. I’ve imagined this happening a million times, and most times I’ve imagined you rejecting me, so I think I’m ready. But still. Go easy on me if you can.”
In the distance, you can hear chatter from inside the house, something rowdy surely happening in the living room. It all becomes background noise quickly, however, and all you can concentrate on is the quiet chirping of crickets and the deafening thump of your heartbeat in your ears.
With your fangs digging into your bottom lip, you slowly fall back too, until you’re lying beside Jungkook with your hands still buried in the pockets of your hoodie.
“I.” You pause to clear your throat, not liking how nervous and shaky your voice sounds. “I, um… might… like… you too?”
There’s barely a sound from either of you for what feels like an eternity.
And then, there’s a gentle rustling as Jungkook turns onto his side, propping his elbow up and holding his head in his palm.
“Gross. The vampire princess likes me.”
You turn your head immediately, coming face to face with his cheeky grin.
“Fuck off,” you reply, but you can feel the laughter bubbling to the surface. “You confessed first.”
“Yeah, but you reciprocated. That’s worse.”
“You mutt.” Jungkook laughs and falls back onto his back. “So. What’re gonna do next, werewolf prince?” He lets out a thoughtful hum.
“Can I kiss you?” If it’s possible, the fluttering inside you seems to intensify just that little bit more.
“Sure.”
The rustling returns as Jungkook rolls over until his torso hovers above you, his knee pressed up against your thigh. A million thoughts seem to fill your head as he starts to lean in, suddenly all too aware that your lips are a little chapped, that you have no idea how to angle your head, or purse your lips, or how long the kiss should even la–
“Ah!”
The both of you flinch, and you scrunch up your nose at the weird feeling caused by your fangs colliding with Jungkook’s canines.
“Sorry,” Jungkook says, chuckling nervously. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
“It’s okay,” you reply, smiling. “Neither have I.”
“Um, take two?”
You nod back, and this time, you’re a little more ready for when Jungkook leans in, retracting your fangs as much as possible. He tilts his head before pursing his lips and pressing them to yours gently, careful to avoid another collision. Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow while your eyes flutter shut, one hand reaching up to slide into his hair.
For a few moments after you both break the kiss, you can’t seem to open your eyes, too lost in the feeling that’s clouded your head all of a sudden. It isn’t until Jungkook starts to nuzzle the side of your head with his nose that you seem to ground yourself again.
“We should go back inside,” he mutters, sighing quietly against your jaw.
“I guess, yeah. Better go and check on the damage those guys have done to my house.”
“I bet they didn’t even leave me any venison.”
#jeon jeongguk#jungkook#bts#bangtan#bts scenarios#vampire!au#werewolf!au#r#anon#i didn't realise how much i love this AU until i got more requests for it#me: is already thinking of the next piece to write
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How to Remain a Neutral Party - Chapter 03
Connor froze, not expecting to see Jack at the door. He waited for everyone to walk out before he walked out there. Jack leaned against the hallway next to the classroom and waited for Connor to come out. He stood there, head pounding as students made a ruckus during the last passing period of the day. Connor walked out and almost ran into Jack. “Hey.” “Hey.” “What’s… up?” “Does your offer still stand?” “Which offer?” “The ride home?” “Yeah, anytime.” “Cool. Can I get a ride today?” “Yeah, let me just -- ” “No, no, now. Like, right now.” Connor stopped trying to fiddle with his backpack straps and looked at Jack. His jeans were tight and baggy, dirty and holey, he wore a plain white shirt, at least it was probably white at one point but now it was this dirty, off-white color. Over that, he wore a blue and grey flannel. It was warm enough to not wear the flannel, but he did anyway, with the sleeves let down and his thumbs in the cuffs. One arm was holding on to his backpack strap, the other, holding on to the elbow of the arm that was holding the backpack. There were dark circles under his eyes, his cheekbones stuck out more than they should have and he needed a decent shave. When they were kids, Jack’s eyes were always bright and alive, but today they were dark. “If I give you a ride, will you tell me what’s happening?” “I’ll try.” Connors nodded, “Okay, let’s go.” They slowly made their way down the crowded hallway. The parking lot was clear on the other side of campus, so Connor walked by the office and told Jack to stay there while he got the truck. Jack’s side started pulsing at the thought of being caught alone on campus. “No, no, it’s cool, I’ll come with.” “Dude, the truck is like half a mile away, you’ll pass out before we get to it at this rate.” “Please. Please don’t leave me here alone.” “Okay, okay. But when you need a break, you need to tell me.” Jack nodded and they continued their slow walk to the truck. There was a strange silence that made the air feel thick between them, so Connor filled the silence with sports stuff. Coach Merrick and three assistant coaches manned the sports teams year-round. Football, cross country, basketball, wrestling, hockey, track and field, soccer, and baseball, were all in rotation. The school was so small that there were no B or junior teams, everyone made varsity, even freshmen. By the time student athletes were seniors, scouts had whole careers to look at; seeing these kids on their varsity teams with good recommendations from their coaches and well-rounded in multi-seasonal sports made them assets for any college. The first half of summer, Connor was in baseball, finishing his training camp. Football training camp started soon after, but he decided to take a break and work with Jack and his dad. Coach Merrick came to his house almost every evening asking him to come back, saying the team needed him and that he had a spot as captain, but he didn’t want it. “So now all the guys think I want them to have a losing season even though they’re three in 0 right now. Well, except for Luke and Marcus.” Jack listened with every intention of prolonging that conversation. If he could keep Connor talking about sports, he could avoid talking about everything he’d been through the last few weeks, not that he knew where to start. In all the years he’d known Connor, there was little they didn’t know about each other. Connor’s favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, and why, because it’s when he got his first football jersey with his last name on it and his mom let him wear it to dinner instead of a dress shirt and sweater vest. Connor knew that Jack liked being in school, even though it meant getting up early and following a schedule because it meant getting out of the house, but he also liked the lazy days of summer, after work with Connor and his dad. But Jack never really talked about why he didn’t like being home. Connor assumed his Mr. Dylan was a hard-ass who pushed Jack a lot; to some degree, he was right, but no one knew to what degree. When they finally got to the truck, Connor pulled a lunch box out of his backpack and handed Jack the coke can and a sandwich half. “No, I’m okay,” Jack said, putting the sandwich down. “Did you eat anything besides half an apple today? Come on, just take it. I’ll eat the other half,” Connor handed him the sandwich again. Jack took the sandwich and the coke and ate it slowly, staring onto the empty space on the dashboard. He had to think about how to make the sports conversation last longer without making it seem like he didn’t want to talk about what was happening. “So, at you playing basket—“ “So what’s the --?” They started, stopped, and then looked at each other. Connor smiled a crooked smile and looked away. Jack kept his gaze for a moment after Connor turned his head and said, “Basketball?” Connor smiled and put the key in the ignition. “Do you want to talk about it over some ice cream?” “I only have a few bucks left until the end of the month.” “I’m buying.” “I have to get home, Connor.” “Your old man doesn’t come until eight or so, right? We have a few hours.” “It’s ten now, but I think he knows when I’m not home right after school.” “Come on, just one scoop.” “Connor…” “Jack.” Jack sighed, “Fine. One scoop. One.” Connor smiled and they drove over to Nate’s Old Fashion Ice Cream Shop in the town square. Jack started pulling his sleeves down and fidgeting with his cuffs. It made him nervous to be out and about after school in public places. Nate’s was public: window walls on the storefront and booths lined against it. Jack only liked going there in the summer when he was expected to stay out all day and it wasn’t a problem. But now? In the afternoon? When he was supposed to go home after school? It made him anxious. His right knee bounced up and down through the soreness. Connor made a habit of not acknowledging Jack’s nervous ticks because it usually meant getting told where he could shove it. Instead, he would start talking about how he wants to fix up his truck, inside and out, the engine, the upholstery, clean up the rust and give it a paint job, find original rims. If he found a way to pay for school and not owe money, he could work a part-time job and pay to fix it up. In the city, there were probably tons of jobs he could get while he went to school. Granted, Jack had heard Connor talk about fixing up his truck on multiple occasions, but it was a comforting subject for him. Jack knew what Connor was doing, so he let it go. They pulled up and parked right in front of Nate’s. Jack hesitated a moment before opening the door. Connor waited until Jack was half-way out before getting out himself. They walked into Nate’s and up to the counter. “Yo! Connor! What’s up, man?” “Yo! Eli! What’s good?” “Jack! How have you been?” The counter guy looked up at Jack, who towered over him at least a foot. Jack looked over and nodded at Eli. He smiled and went on, “So, what can I get you guys today? The regular?” Connor smiled, “Rocky road with extra marshmallows mixed in.” “Dude, we have marshmallow fluff now, instead of the minis,” Eli took out the fluff and showed him. “Uh, hell yeah! Gimme some of that!” “Alright, and Jack? Mint chocolate chip with sugar cookie dough?” Jack nodded again and Eli smiled, “Cool, coming right up!” Connor and Jack sat down at the counter with their backs turned to the window walls. Oddly enough, that was probably the most eye-contact Jack and Eli had, and they used to come in every day over the summer. Jack put his hands together and then started rubbing the fingers of his right hand on his left knuckles. There were some cute girls laughing at something over in one of the front tables. He knew Connor couldn’t help himself when it came to girls, but he didn’t go over to them. Jack figured Connor was waiting for his ice cream, but Eli would have walked it over to him. Connor watched Jack as he furrowed his eyebrows and came to the realization that he wasn’t going to get out of talking about what’s been happening. Eli came over with the ice cream and when he turned around, Connor finally spoke up. “Alright, Jack. Tell me what’s been happening.” He turned to face him, giving him his full attention. Jack felt tightness in his chest. Nerves. He shook it off mentally and turned to Connor. There was a pause, he thought of anything he could to get out of talking about it, but eventually gave up and said, “Some guys have been roughing me up after school.” Connor furrowed his eyebrows now. He was one of the most popular guys in school, captain of any sports team he decided to play, ranked nationally in wrestling, the list went on, and some assholes were stupid enough to mess with his best friend. “Who are they?” “That’s… not important.” Connor’s face turned red and splotchy. “Tell me who the fuck is messing with you, so help me god.” He balled his fists and fixated on Jack’s shoulders. Jack was slouching, like usual, but Connor was imagining the bruises he was hiding. Jack, picked at his ice cream, “And anyway, it wouldn’t matter. They have some shit on me that I can’t even deal with right now.” “What dirt?” “Nothing, Connor, nothing. They’re just assholes, right? They’ll get bored sooner or later.” “Do you at least get a couple swings in? I could show you how to take someone down so you can get away--” “No, no. It doesn’t work that way. If I fight back, they won’t get bored. If I just let them beat me, they’ll leave me alone, eventually,” he said, almost under his breath. Connor felt like he was going to explode. His knuckles were turning white from keeping his hand in a fist for so long but he couldn’t help it. The two sat in silence and Jack finally took a spoonful of ice cream. Connor felt the knot in his throat getting smaller and he, too, ate some ice cream. They ate their ice cream in silence, Connor turning his body towards the counter, and Jack turning slightly towards Connor, knee bouncing. When they were almost finished, Eli came up to them again. “Can I get you guys another round?” Connor looked over at Jack, and Jack slightly lifted his chin, as if to say yes. Connor nodded to Eli and two new scoops of ice cream appeared before them. Jack’s jaw was starting to tense up. He didn’t want to go home, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to Connor, he had already said enough. It was getting late, the sun wouldn’t go down for another few hours, but Jack needed to get some things done before his dad came back to the house. Jack’s knee started bouncing again as he finished his second scoop. “Do you need to go home after this?” Jack looked up at Connor. He didn’t want to say yes because, even though he was anxious now, it would only get worse at home, but if he wanted clean laundry tomorrow, he would need to get started, and soon. He nodded and sighed at Connor. Connor nodded back and let out a deep sigh. “Alright, let’s go.” Jack pushed himself up and out of his chair. His shoulders and his chest felt like weights he couldn’t take off and put down. His arms fell to his sides and he shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping his head down. Connor swiftly turned up and away from the counter and followed Jack towards the door. Connor saw him before Jack did and pulled the door closed as Jack was pushing it open. “What are you--” Jack started. “Just wait,” Connor said firmly. His eyes narrowed and followed a beat-up Pinto as it drove around the square. The owner, Jack’s dad, revved the engine as he rounded the corners and came back around, slower. Jack reached out and gripped Connor’s arm. Connor looked over at Jack and saw tears welling-up in his eyes. Jack whispered, “Don’t, don’t.” His knuckles were turning white on Connor’s arm. He couldn’t bring himself to fixate on anything but the Pinto as it drove in circles. Blood rushed to his face and tears welled over. The Pinto rounded the last corner and turned to leave the square. Jack started hyperventilating despite his sore ribs digging into his lungs. The short breaths caused sharp pains that only made him more anxious. Connor watched the Pinto leave and put himself between the door and Jack, facing Jack. Jack’s eyes weren’t focused on anything. Connor looked up at Eli, who was waiting to find out what was happening. “Eli, I need a chair behind Jack, now.” Eli hurried over and moved a chair behind Jack. Connor gestured towards Jack’s other side and together they lowered him into the chair. Eli went to the door, locked it, and then lowered the blinds on the window walls. Connor knelt down in front of Jack and held onto one hand. Jack’s eyes still weren’t focused on anything. “I – I – I…” Jack couldn’t make a complete sentence. “Jack, it’s okay, just… just focus on breathing, okay?” Connor was panicking. “Eli, turn some lights off, will ya?” Eli turned some lights off and came back to Jack’s side with a bottle of cold water. He took the cap off the bottle and held it in one hand while holding Jack's free hand. Connor and Eli sat with him until his breathing returned to normal. Eli offered him the water and he took it and took a couple of sips. "How long was it this time?" "Not long," Connor said, still holding Jack's hand. "How long?" Jack pressed. "Like, fifteen minutes," Eli said. Jack nodded and sipped on his water. Connor didn't know what to do; Jack was insistent on going home, but he didn't take him home, he took him to get some ice cream and now he might be in serious trouble with his dad. He made direct eye contact with Connor, “I can’t go back to the house tonight.”
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