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saltsicklover · 3 months

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Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part Three

Read Part One and Two

Part 4 Coming Soon (Like really soon)

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader SOULMATE AU

Word Count: 4800+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, History, Beau being a Good Dad, Icemav is here, Still No Bobby

The wind whips past us, the warm California sun dusting over my skin. I can feel the undersides of my eyes and down my cheeks beginning to chap with the newfound wind against my tear washed skin. I can't help the continued scrunch of my eyes as we walk. Between the sun and the stinging of my skin, my expression stays wrinkled tight with distaste.

Though I've been on more air fields than I can remember, I still feel like a stranger here. Amongst the jets and the pilots, the mechanics and the helicopters, I feel so small. Like the ground could open up and swallow me whole with no consequence. I know I don't belong, but I walk along anyway, step for step with my father who practically owns the ground we walk on and the skies above.

The hanger is large and imposing, just as they always are. Tall buildings meant to swallow jets, blocks wide and just as deep. The hanger is painted that same sad taupe hinted gray color as everything else, yet it's more imposing than the rest. There's a metaphor here, somewhere. Something about soulmates and their ability to blend into the background until they are standing right in front of you, suddenly the only thing in your view. Yet, the only thing that my mind can fixate on is the stuttering of my heart and the sweat collecting in my palms.

A section of the hanger is set up with tables and chairs, all perfectly pushed in and lined up. It's a classroom of sorts, the fresh air carried in through the open doors of the hanger. If I cared about this part of the world, the Navy that is, I could get lost in the diagrams scrawled across chalk boards scattered around the space. I could zone in on something to distract from the tension in my body, though it seems to be the only thing keeping me standing. It takes an extra moment�� for me to pull myself back to reality.

At the front of the room, a man leans up against a table, back to us while another man sits in front of him, legs up on the table. They are both in uniform, though their body language is excessively causal. They don't notice as we approach, too wrapped up in each other to care about how their conversation carries through the hanger.

"I know it's going to be a change, Mav, but it's going to be good,"

"You know me, Ice, I'm not good at staying in one place,"

Then, my father coughs, a subtle way to express our presence. He's always been a man of subtly if he could help it. That has the pair turning to us, their conversation now on hold. The man sitting doesn't get up, but he pulls his feet down from the table. His mop of brown hair is un-styled and no doubt out of regulation, but the Captain's bars sit dutifully upon his collar speak louder. The other man is all striking eyes and light hair, face full of wrinkles but in the way well conditioned leather is. Warn and loved. I would recognize him anywhere, though our history is nothing more than brief snippets of memories now, of history past and gone.

"Excuse us, Captain Mitchell," My father sounds all business, and then his eyes catch the blond man, "Admiral Kazansky, sir," I seem to be the only one who picks up the waver in his voice.

"Cyclone," The pair speak in time. Their eyes flash to me then back to my father, their expressions natural. I focus in on Kazansky. His lip twitches just a bit, almost cracking into a grin. But he's better than that, the COMPACFLT is much too skilled in the interpersonal relationships that come with his position to let a smile slip. The three men bounce glances between them. The stern expression that Captain Mitchell once held is breaking, eyes twinkling as a subtle smirk curls across his lips.

"Oh!" My father almost exclaims, turning to me, "This is my Daughter. Birdie, this is Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet, Admiral Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky,"

The introduction has the Captain rising form his seat. He leans over the table, one hand planted firmly to the top whilst the other extends my direction. There is no care for the files spread out over the top, just his palm pressed firmly to the surface. His smile is all crooked teeth and kindness. I return the smile, ignoring the way my father fights off a grimace. The Captain commands the room, from the angle of his shoulders to the way confidence bleeds from him. He thrives with each new set of eyes directed straight at him, and I am no exception.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Pete," I shake his hand firmly. I hope he can't feel the layer of sweat that coats my palm. If he does, he doesn't mention it. There is no questioning of my phrase, either, like it's almost expected that people know him, officially and otherwise. I can no longer hide my own smirk, as incomplete pictures from my memory are snapping together, finally whole. This is Pete, Tom's soulmate, his husband, his wingman. After this brief introduction, the pieces are falling into place. I have heard my fair share of stories about this very man, but nothing like what someone might expect. Where there are usually tales of heroics and jets, Tom has filled those spaces with tells of their private life.

I know that Pete texts Tom constantly, even though Tom hates anything having to do with cellphones. Pete "Maverick" Mitchell drinks whole milk, something that Tom can't wrap his brain around. He washes the dishes with wash cloths instead of sponges. Little details, intimate but not private information, and it rolls around somewhere in the back of my head.

"The pleasure is all mine, Birdie," I believe him wholly, no question in my mind that he takes pleasure in meeting me- in watching my father squirm. His smile only grows. His eyes are flicking between me and my father who is standing just over my shoulder, a foot or two away. I turn my attention to the man next to Pete. Tom, as he introduced himself to me when he first met, is nothing but shinning eyes and a grin of ambrosia. He rolled his eyes at me, a laugh dancing from his lips the first time I called him Admiral Kazansky. I never have quite figured out the humor there.

"It's great to see you again, Tom," I ignore the confused glances as I greet him, stretching my hand out towards him. He rolls his eyes fondly.

"Get that hand out of here!" Tom chuckles, pushing himself off of the table, "Who do you think I am? Come around here and give me a hug, Little Bird!"

He embraces me, taking me into the fullness of his hug. He bleeds warmth in the way Pete bleeds confidence. I take it in, letting it swallow me whole. There's a scent that clings to Tom's clothes, something that I've never quite been able to place. It's rich and clove full, over taking my senses. There is something special about a hug from the Iceman. He asks how I've been, his lips pressing into my hair. I'm still smiling, somehow impossibly wider as I pull back to meet his eyes once more.

"Well, Tom," I chuckle in turn as he takes my hands in his own. "I-" There's a hesitation. Even with the adrenalin of reuniting, anxiety still has it's claws dug deep into my skin. I drag my teeth over the fullness of my bottom lip before continuing. "It happened, and I'm..."

"Somewhere between bargaining and boycotting?" His eyes scrunch at the corners, long lines of skin creasing with knowledge and understanding. There's such a kindness in his eyes and it threatens to break me open. Tom has always been able to read me like this. It used to freak me out, in the beginning. He could look at me for less than a minute and surmise just what was thrumming through me, even if confusion seemed to cloud my own understanding.

"Cut that out!" I laugh gently, squeezing at his hands with my own. He squeezes back, that knowing look plastered behind his glasses. "I hate it when you do that, you know," I don't.

"What can I say," he winks. He still holds me close, closer than any newly introduced folks should. I dodge the rhetorical, focusing my sights elsewhere.

"With everything you've told me, your soulmate being the man who irritates my father to high heaven really makes sense," I shoot a look over to Pete. He quirks an eyebrow. I can feel my father's eyes square and solid between my shoulder blades. The Admiral is laughing, the sound a bit scratchy against his throat, but it's whole and happy. "How's your health?"

God, that's a scary question, but I can't keep it tucked under my tongue. His expression goes soft, soft in the way melted candles are when their wax is hardening after the flame is blown out. There's a strength being regained there, beneath it all, cooling. I can see the ice cold, no mistakes veil flicker behind his eyes and it's a comfort. a familiarity from long time past.

"I'm good, Little Bird," He grips my hands a little tighter, thumbs pressing into the tops of my hands, "Scans are clear, have been for a few months now. I'm good,"

"I am so beyond happy for you, Tom," I pull him into another hug, tighter this time. I mumble into his collar, for the both of you. He squeezes me tighter. It's a thank you, if I've ever felt one. It only lasts a moment before my father is clearing his throat again, no doubt confused and likely feeling awkward watching his daughter embrace one of his heroes so freely. I look at Pete first, who looks confused too, but more interested than anything, before turning to meet my father's eyes.

My father looks like he's ready to speak, but his mouth only opens and closes a few times before he scrunches his whole expression. No words are said. I stand next to Tom, wanting to bounce on the balls of my feet out of pure nervousness. I don't. Mostly because I don't want my father to give me that disapproving look- and because standing next to Tom is more comforting than I remember it being.

"Are either of you gonna clue us in?" Pete supplies, a hint of joy behind his voice. Between the look on Tom's face, all kind and warm, and the look on my father's, confused and frustrated, there's no doubt in my mind that Pete is having an absolute hay day with all of this.

"I worked at the USO in Pensacola, and did stints out in D.C, and Maryland with the org too, and Tom just so happens to spend a lot of time stuck at the USO," I giggle a bit, nervousness bubbling through the explanation.

"Little Bird and I have spent a lot of time together over the last couple of years, over cold sodas and prepackaged food," Tom laughs at the memory, "I don't think anyone plays a better game of Pinochle than this young woman right here,"

"I've had a lot of practice, thanks to you, Tom,"

My father, with still furrowed brows and lips pressed into a line, gives us a curt nod of understanding, signaling his readiness to move onto a new subject. As fun as it to watch my father wriggle under the intense stares of the other men, I still smile sheepishly at him. I know this is not even close to why we walked all the way out here in the first place. My nerves are shot, thinking about it all. I don't know how much longer I can smile and pretend that my thoughts aren't racing a thousand miles an hour over this whole situation.

"What brings you two out to the hanger this afternoon?" Tom asks, lacing his hands politely in front of him. Pete sits atop the desk now, looking just as interested to help as Tom does.

"Mav, roster up," My father directs, cutting to the chase. His features are stern and even, leaving nothing to be deciphered through them. Maverick quirks a brow.

"What?" Maverick asks with a cock of his head.

"I'll explain when you're through," Dad waves his hand non committedly, "Roster up"

"Bradshaw, Seresin, Tra-"

"With first names, if you could, please, Maverick," My father interrupts with a mildly defeated sigh.

"Do you want them in alphabetical order too?" Pete asks, smirking. My father just shoots him one of those looks. Tom and I both bite back chuckles. Mine is nervous, Tom's is nothing but bright.

"Bradley Bradshaw, Jake Sersein," Maverick starts slow, pretending like he is trying to remember just to get further under my father's skin. He even counts them off on his fingers. "Natasha Trace, Rueben Fitch, Javy Machado. They are our main pilots, with Robert Floyd and Mickey Garcia as our main WSO's. We also have a backup team that we call in from other detachments if-"

"Robert Floyd," The words are directed at me, cutting Maverick off. He's spoken the name like an Epiphone. My father's eyes meet mine, eyebrows raised. "I told you there was no Rhett,"

"But I know what I saw, Dad, and Rhett is in that photograph," I counter back feeling defensive and confused, but I know what I saw. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, even as I bury my face in my hands. It shouldn't be this hard; Rhett is in that photograph, even if they want to fight me on it. I'd die on this hill.

"Rhett?" Maverick interjects. A hand is placed on my shoulder. I pull my gaze from my hands. The hand belongs to Maverick. He's leaning towards Tom and I, hand on my shoulder to offer a sort of comfort. "Rhett Floyd? Bob's twin brother?"

Consider me wrong... and dead. Dead wrong.

"Oh, for fucks sake," My face is landing right back into my hands as I sink to the ground. The tension in my body is no longer enough to keep me standing. Pete is over the table in a second, sinking down to the floor next to me. Tom's hand is planted firmly over the lip of the tabletop above my head to keep me from smacking my skull against it.

"Birdie?" Pete asks gently, putting his hand back onto my shoulder. I can't find the words or the heart to explain it all again.

"This Bob," I sniffle, my voice still muffled by my hands, "Does he know Hagman?"

"Hangman" My father corrects.

"Yeah, they know each other," Pete confirms, his voice softer than before. I lean my head against Tom's thigh as my father pulls a chair out to sit, to be closer to my level.

"Want to tell us more, kid?" Tom's voice is low, gravely and it wraps around me like a warm wind.

The words are stuck in my throat, the letters making a home in the folds of my vocal cords. I want to speak. I want to pick the words from the swollen flesh of my throat and piece them together in some sort of serial killer magazine cut-out letter for the world to read. Maybe they could print it in the paper. The carbon smudges and inky fingerprints could then find their way to Bob. To Jake. To Rhett. To the men who sit with me now and wait so patiently for me to put my own tongue on a plate for their sheer understanding.

These men, Pete, Tom, and my father have taken so much grace with me and with this whirlwind of a shit show. Tears swim behind my eyelids, threatening to roll down my cheeks. My tongue is still at home behind my teeth, but somehow words are creeping up coated in bile and anxiety.

"I met Jake and Rhett at the airport in Dallas this morning," I manage after a few moments. I've spread the whole interaction out in my brain, cutting pieces like I'm editing an old film reel. Cut this, keep that. If only there was a way to reshoot a scene, cut something better than the flimsy film I lived. I can't speak another word, instead I thread my fingers into the neck of my t-shirt. With an uneven sigh, I pull the neck down, revealing the sentence scrawled delicately across my collarbone.

Oh, it's just Bob.

Tom doesn't look. I don't either, but my father and Pete are focused in on the ink. There's a beat of silence, like everyone is holding their breath at the same time. Nobody dares say anything. I just burry my face in my hands again.

"And you've never heard this before?" Tom inquires, assessing all of the details. I can only shake my head no. My less than dignified response is met with hums of understanding.

"Did it feel like this with you guys?" I ask the room, "So... fucked?"

And then Pete laughs. He fucking laughs. There's the swift sound of a hand hitting the back of a head, and then Pete counters back with a groan. I can hear my father fighting back a giggle, but I don't pull my hands away to see anything. I can hear enough; the darkness of my caged fingers seems to be the only thing to keep the drowning feeling from taking over again.

"Oh, kid, you've got no idea" Pete is chuckling again. No hand smack to the back of the head this time. That gets me to peek out from behind my fingers. "Picture this," Pete makes a dramatic gesture outwards with his hands, setting the scene, "It's 1986, night before we are to report to TOPGUN and Goose and I were at the O Club. It's a bar- and back then, people were smoking inside-"

"Get to the point, Captain," My father mutters.

"Anyway, I'd know Goose for forever by that point. We were in that damn bar for the first time, talking like usual and he looks at me and goes You wanna know who the best is? and I swear all the color drained from my face in that moment. We had gone to that bar to let loose before training started and instead of getting to drink and relax, Goose had to mother me,"

I can't lie and say that Mav's story doesn't make me feel a bit better but all I can manage is a hum in acknowledgement. No more words come.

"I had the pleasure of finding out moments before, that same night," Tom chimes in from above me, my head still laid against his thigh. "Slider, my RIO, found out that Mav and Goose slid into the class at the last second. I didn't have any idea that it would have turned out the way that it did. Not with my sentence."

"Hey, we did not slide in," Maverick's voice goes slightly tighter, laced with annoyance.

"Sliders words, not mine, first of all. And second, Slider had pointed across the room and told me he had to go accost the new guys, then pointed to you and Goose. I'd known about Goose through Slider, but when I asked him who else he was going to torment he looked at me and said the hot brunette."

The laugh that escapes my lips catches us all off guard. My father is laughing too, right along with me. Tom joins in a second later, a chorus of laugher around a smug Maverick who's mumbling about still being hot.

The wind shuffles through the large open door of the hanger, lukewarm by the time it reaches us. But Maverick's hand on my shoulder is warm, as is Tom's thigh beneath my cheek. My father looks at me as if I were the sun. His eyes not quite meeting my own. His narrow eyes crease the skin around them, a shallow biological attempt at reflecting some of my emotion right back at me. It's stifling, even under the abnormally chill of the fall evening as we are tucked into the back of the hanger.

It's safe here, if only for a fleeting moment. My heart broke open next to my severed tongue, both resting atop a sliver platter. But these men are not vultures, they are not here for the taking. Instead, they are art restorers and surgeons and everything soft, comforting and warm. They serve only to take the broken and severed pieces of myself and repair them. To put them back into the cavernous spaces of my body that yearn to have them back. The same parts that yearn for bourbon, God, and Bob.

And maybe that says something about me; the inability to keep my own broken parts together and how they cut into my skin when they were mine and mine only to hold. But here and now, these men holding pieces of me with gentle hands whilst they share pieces of themselves. It gives me hope. Hope that everything is going to be alright. It can be heard in the laughter.

"Hey Dad, Pops, Cyclone and... stranger? What's all the laughing about, and why are you on the ground?" A new voice breaks us out of our haze of laughter. I'm wiping at my eyes, a bit startled at the presence of a new person. He's tall, mustache clad and pure muscle. He saunters over to us, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his flight suit.

This man carries himself with the kind of confidence only overly cautious people exude. Shoulders square but slumped in on himself. His steps have a small hang-up when he catches my eyes, a wariness stemming from somewhere unseen. Maybe it's the way I, a stranger, am triangulated between his superiors all too casually.

"Hey Baby Goose," Mav greets him, warm crooked smile and squinted eyes. It's fonder than the smile I received. "What are you doing here?" The first questions from the stranger was dashed- but the nickname connects another set of dots in my brain. I look up at Tom and mouth Bradley? in silent question. It's met with a proud smile and a nod. I know of Bradley. Of course I know of Bradley.

I know of him in the same way I know of Pete, little fragments of information in the back of my brain. He likes mustard, a lot. Has an affinity for terrible Hawaiian shirts. Flies just like Mav, though Tom only admitted that after he'd been awake for a little over thirty hours. An ex college baseball player, and a current baseball fanatic. Bradley Bradshaw is Tom Kazansky's pride and joy.

"I'm here for the hop you schedualed," Bradley says like it's obvious knowledge, "Oh, and Hangman made it back this morning. He's in the locker room getting changed. I think I saw Phoenix and Bob pull in too,"

"The hop?" Tom asks.

"The hop?" Pete asks too, a little more urgently. Those two little words are bathed in question and a bit of panic.

"Yeah... The hop that you schedualed? Are you okay, Mav?" Bradley asks, eyes focused on Pete. The older man just nods, his eyes darting around like he's trying to remember scheduling the hop in the first place.

"He's fine, Baby Goose," Tom reassures his son, but doesn't clue him in to anything else.

"Bob is here?" My father asks, suddenly swerving the conversation in a whole new direction. Of course my father would be the one to speak up about the fact turned issue that we all clocked the moment the words left Bradley's lips. Ever the mediator and coraller of the vagary, Cyclone makes my business his business, even more than it already had been. My father's always been able to make sense of the world, even when I can barely tell left from right.

And right now, left abandoned me somewhere between the airport and the gate to base. No doubt forgotten like a wallet in between the seats of the taxi. Right, as far as I'm concerned, has achieved sentience and think's it's main objective is to tell up or down apart and its bad at it's job.

"Yes, Bob is here. Everyone should be here this evening. Are you here to observe the hop, Admiral?" There is a confusion to Bradley's voice. It sounds like he is doing his best to act casual, yet professional in front of his superiors.

"Not exactly, Lieutenant Bradshaw," My father sighs, pointing a finger towards me, "The woman between your fathers is my daughter Birdie, and we are..." He trails off, trying to find the words. With a roll of my eyes, I stick my hands out in an attempt to ask for help getting to get to my feet. Bradley takes the hint, stepping forward to grasp my hands and pull me up from the ground.

This close, Bradley is all tepid touches and musk. A small hickey peaks out from under the collar of his flight suit, but it looks like it was made half hearted- left pink and speckled rather than bruised dark and purple with passion. Bradley holds my hand an extra second or two, maybe longer. I'm lost in the pattern of his skin for a moment as he steadies me on my feet.

A squeeze of my hands before he releases them brings me back around.

"Thanks, Bradley," My soft smile is met with his confused look. Eyebrows are dropped low over narrowed eyes.

"How do you know my name?" The question is clipped short by the tightening of his throat.Definitely anxiety masked as confidence.

"I know a lot about you, Bradley," I chuckle. As stressed out as I am, even with the run down feeling weighing at my shoulders I still find it somewhere within me to make jokes. "Tell me, Bradley, do you still have that blanket with the awful duck pattern all over it?"

I watch Bradley's eyes go wide, mouth falling open. There's stunned, there's scared, and then there is whatever look Bradley Bradshaw is giving me right now. I'm barely keeping it together, but Tom and Pete are losing it. Big, loud laughter fills the air.

"They're," Is all Bradley can manage after a moment, his eyes scanning my face feverishly, "...geese"

The look on his face is good, but the worry flashing behind his eyes makes me ease up.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry! I'm friends with Tom! He likes to talk about you, a lot, and I saw my chance to fuck with you and I took it, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you!" I finally apologize, the look on Bradley's face becoming too much to take. I do giggle, though.

Bradley looks over my shoulder at Tom with narrow eyes, "I hate you, for the record,"

"I know you do,"

"Who do we hate?" Fuck, I know that voice. I recoil a bit at it, my face scrunching up as far as it can. I bristle but I stand strong.

"My Pops," There's faux anger in Bradley's voice, "He's letting his friends use personal information against me,"

"Oh, in that case, I'm sure you deserve it, Roos," Jake jokes, "Who's the-" Then his eyes meet mine as he appears from behind Bradley. "Birdie!?"

"Wait, you're Rooster?" The nickname clicks.

Bradley exclaims at the same time, "You're Birdie?!"

"God, this world is too fucking small!" I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. I turn to look at Pete and Tom. Tom shrugs while Pete just chuckles on. It's like they both know, or knew, something I don't and are basking in the pure knowledge of it.

"You okay, Birdie?" My father asks, pushing himself up from his seat.

"I'm okay, Dad," I reassure him. He lowers his voice when he gets closer, asking again if I'm really okay. I shrug, but nod, doing my best to flash him my most convincing smile.

"You're Cyclone's kid? Cyclone's Birdie?" Bradley asks, "The woman Jake met this morning?" I nod in acknowledgment, my smile faltering. "Oh my God, that means you're Bob's-!" Bradley's words are halted by a swift elbow to the ribs. I swear I can feel the pain of it too, radiating somewhere between my ribs. Maybe it's just the anxiety.

"You told him?"

"I did, I'm sorry," Jake starts, almost tripping over his words. "Can we talk? Privately?"

"We better," I counter back, no venom but all bite. Jake and I break away from the group, walking away from the classroom set up. Eyes linger on us for only a moment. The lukewarm air blowing in from the open hanger door is cooling the closer we get to the exit. He takes me by the elbow, leading me out of the hanger and down the sidewalk. We finally stop between the hanger and another small building near the gate to the airfield.

TAGLIST

@kmc1989 @inky-sun @harperdoodle @possiblyexisting @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @jessicab1991 @muddwheelz123

#saltsicklover #ftrftf #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd angst #bob floyd x you #bob floyd soulmate au #soulmate bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun soulmate au #robert bob floyd #beau cyclone simpson #background icemav

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gretavansteph · 2 years

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home remedy | j.t.k

no bc we're going to HELL for this omg but this was a request based off of this ask i'm blushing I hope y'all enjoy

Let me know what y’all think and don’t be a stranger, leave your requests in my ask!

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Your breath caught in your throat as another wave of pain hit you, this time stronger than the last. You were trying to keep yourself together, you didn't want to interrupt the bands rehearsals even though all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry.

This morning when you woke up you were feeling great, even more so because Jake had invited you to come watch him and the boys rehearse. You agreed instantly, and everything was completely fine and dandy until you got there. It was just your luck that on this particular day, your period swarmed you. And when you say swarmed, you meant swarmed. It hit you like a truck as soon as you had walked into the studio, and you immediately excused yourself as you felt the impossible to ignore wetness between your legs. It wasn't even the good kind, and it definitely put a damper in your mood.

Thankfully you were always prepared, so you dug around your purse and pulled out a tampon. You went about your business and popped some ibuprofen before the inevitable cramps hit, and once you washed your hands you made your way back into the studio. It was all going great, the guys sounded amazing and you loved watching Jake in his element with the people he loved most in the world. The way he would furrow his brow in concentration, his tongue poking out slightly as he made sure to hit all the right notes. He looked hot as all hell, and he looked good enough to eat. You wouldn't mind licking the sweat off his face that was a result of him putting his whole jussy into his music. You had read that on twitter somewhere and hadn't stopped saying it. Jake didn't understand it no matter how many times you explained it, but you thought it was hilarious.

You giggled to yourself at the thought, giving Jake a smile and a wave as he looked at you through the glass as if knowing you were thinking of him. He returned the smile and got back to work. You relaxed against the comfy couch you had set up camp on, taking a few pictures of the guys and of Jake. You were having a great time, you really were.

And then you weren't.

The first wave of pain caught you by surprise, but it was barely there. More so a small ache than anything, so with a small sigh you relaxed once again and trained your attention on the band. They were running through a verse of Safari, and you were singing along with Josh when another wave hit you.

"Holy f-"

You bit down on your lip, stopping the rest of the word from coming out. The pain was slowly but surely getting stronger, but you really wanted to ignore it. You were enjoying your time with the guys, and you knew Jake enjoyed you being there too, so upon taking a few breaths you resumed your singing with Josh. It worked for about a good twenty minutes, but now it was to the point the pain had you sweating.

This was the thing about your period, some days you would get lucky and have an easy cycle. Maybe some light cramping on the first day or maybe the second but nothing more. Or sometimes no cramping at all, but then there was those other periods like the one you were currently experiencing where you imagined dying would be less painful. It hurt so impossibly bad, and you knew it was only going to get worse. These types of periods would normally bound you to your bed for the entire duration, and you hated it. But you hated it even more when it occurred while you were away from home, like now. It made you even more uncomfortable, especially because you weren't wearing your comfy period panties. And you didn't have your heating pad or your blankie.

You tried holding back as much as you could, but you couldn't do it any longer. So when Jake looked up at you with a smile, it immediately left his face as he took in your state of distress. You waved him over and he rushed to put his guitar down before he all but ran out of the booth and over to you, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to get you anything I can-"

"Can we go home?" you asked, voice shaking as another wave of pain hit you, this time lingering longer than usual.

He took hold of your hand and without meaning to you squeezed, hard, eliciting a hiss from his lips.

"I'm so sorry I just- my fucking period and- ow fuck!"

He nodded in understanding, helping you up from the couch and leading you out the door after gathering your things. You were able to make it to the car before your tears fell, the pain becoming impossible to hide.

"I know baby, I know, I'm gonna get you home." Jake spoke, putting the car in reverse and all but flooring it away from the studio.

The air was flooded with tearful apologies from you, for pulling him away from his practice, but he quickly dismissed them, saying the guys would understand and that the main priority was getting you to a more comfortable spot. He let you hold his hand on the way, trying not to let it show how much your squeezing hurt.

"I know you're hurting, love," he began, letting out a wince. "But you're squeezing the money makers."

You released his hand with an apology, opting out for gripping onto your knee instead. You let out a sigh of relief as he finally pulled into your driveway, rushing over to help you out of the car and leading you into the house.

You went straight into the restroom to change, discarding your clothes and replacing your tampon. You realized you had forgotten to grab some clothes and you mentally cursed yourself, but a knock at the door interrupted your self scolding. The door cracked open and Jake's hand poked through, your clothes dangling in his hand.

"You forgot these," he said.

You took the clothes from his hand, thanking him before he closed the door once again to give you some privacy. Your heart melted at the sight in front of you, and your tears fell onto the articles of clothing. He had picked your favorite pair of period undies, some soft and comfy shorts and one of his t shirts that was a few sizes too big on you but you loved to wear it anyway. You quickly got dressed and made your way into bed, crawling under the covers. You took notice of Jake's missing figure from the room, but you quickly forgot about it as the pain took over your thoughts.

You groaned in pain, curling up into a ball as you disappeared under the covers. After a few minutes they were pulled back and you felt yourself being pulled into a warm body.

"Move your hands, baby." Jake spoke softly, lightly pulling your hands off of your stomach.

You felt the warmth of a heating pad on your skin, realizing that must've been the reason he wasn't in the room. You curled into the heating pad, your legs pulled up close to your chest, pushing the pad into your skin. It helped to a certain extent, but the pain was so strong it took over your lower abdomen and your lower back. You let out a small sob in pain, wishing it would stop, causing a frantic Jake to speak up.

"What do you need, love?" he asked. "What do you need me to do?"

You knew he just wanted to help, and you adored him for it. But in instances like this there wasn't much to do except wait for it to run it's course. You reached behind you and took his hand, placing it under your shirt on your lower back, silently asking him to rub the area. He caught on and began rubbing your back, and you let out a sigh as he applied pressure.

He held you for a while, switching spots with the heating pad to rub your front as the heating pad warmed up your back. You were able to stop crying after a while, the little routine he had come up with proving to help. You were able to relax into his arms, at one point dosing off to sleep for a few minutes. You woke up not long after, and you were grateful the pain was mostly gone. You leaned into Jake, pulling the heating pad from between your bodies to really feel him.

"Thank you, baby." you mumbled, placing your hand on top of his as it laid on your stomach.

He placed kisses on your cheek, trailing down to your neck and your shoulders. You shivered, and you felt him smile into your neck.

You loved him like this, you loved him all the time but when he was soft like this he melted your heart. Everyone was used to seeing the crazy sex god on stage, working his magic on his guitar making everyone in the room, including you, swoon. But when he was home with just you, he let his soft side come out. You loved that he reserved it for you, even when he sometimes tried to act tough around you you knew he was really just a big softy.

You cuddled up with each other for a while, and you were enjoying these pain free moments. With a groan from Jake, you peeled yourself away from him and climbed out of bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sitting up with a pout.

You smiled at how adorable he was, trying to fight the urge to crawl back into bed and kiss the pout off of his lips.

"I'm gonna take a shower," you replied, making your way towards the restroom door. "While I can."

He sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed with the same pout. You laughed, waving your hand at him before you disappeared into the restroom. You started the shower, setting the water just how you liked it before discarding your clothes.

Back in bed, Jake listened as the shower turned on in the restroom. His mind wandered back to the state you had been in earlier on in the day, and he hated seeing you that way. He especially hated not knowing what to do, he felt helpless as you cried due to how much pain you were in. All he wanted to do was make it all go away, but he didn't know how. That was how he found himself nose deep in his phone as he read different articles online that were filled with all sorts of remedies to help cramps at home.

Over the counter medication, applying heat, massaging with essential oils?

He furrowed his brows at that one and continued on. He was so invested on how certain foods apparently play a part in the cause of menstrual cramps, that he almost missed the last one on the list.

Having an orgasm?

He smiled to himself as he read over that segment of the article. Once he had gathered as much information as needed, he threw his phone on the bed and made his way into the restroom, stripping himself of his clothes.

In the shower, you relished in the feel of the hot water on your back, taking turns to switch and let the water hit your tummy. The cramps were slowly coming back, and you were annoyed at the fact that you only had so much time to enjoy a nice hot shower. That was until Jake stepped into the shower with you, closing the door behind him as he stepped towards you.

"What are you doing in here?" you asked him, eyeing the smile that lingered on his lips.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his very prominent front. "Just missed you," he mumbled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You returned the kiss before pulling back and giving him a look.

"I know that look, Jacob," you began, placing your hands on either side of his arms, running them up and down as the water washed over the both of you. "What are you really doing in here?"

He gave you a shy smile, dipping his face into your neck as he mumbled a response.

"What?"

You felt him kissing on your neck, nipping lightly at the skin.

"I said," he spoke, pulling back to meet your eyes. "I read that having sex helps with period cramps."

"Oh,"

Oh.

He blushed under your gaze, and normally you would've teased him but you were more focused on the heat that was making itself known between your legs.

"Is that so?" you whispered, toying with the hair behind his neck.

He nodded his head yes, pulling you closer and under the water. He pressed you tightly against his body, his hands wandering all over your backside as you slipped into a sloppy mess of kisses that mainly consisted of tongue.

You felt your body growing hot, so incredibly hot and it wasn't just from the warmth of the water. You moaned as he released your lips, biting at them before trailing kisses down your neck once more. Your breathing became heavy as he got down on his knees in front of you, eye level with your hard nipples, and you watched as he latched his lips onto one, toying the other with his fingers. You were dripping with excitement, you could feel it despite the water coming from the shower and he hadn't even done anything yet.

Moan after moan slipped past your lips as he continued his assault on your breasts, nipping and squeezing just the way you liked. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him back up to your lips. It probably wasn't the smartest idea trying to walk with your eyes closed in the shower especially given the circumstances, but you somehow managed not to fall as you pushed Jake down onto the bench in the shower, right bellow the shower head. You thanked whoever and whatever came up with the idea of putting a bench in the shower as you took your place in his lap, pressing your lips against his one more. You felt one of his hands reach behind you and grip your ass, keeping you in place while the other one went who knows where. The realization of where it went hit you as you felt the warm shower water hit your back as it ran down and disappeared in between your bodies. He had adjusted the shower head to hit the both of you.

Your hands trailed all over his body, teasing his hard cock by dancing your fingers around it, barely touching but never quite grabbing hold. His other hand met the spare spot on your ass, pulling back to deliver a hard smack at your teasing before he pulled you closer until you were flush against him. Your throbbing core rubbed up on him, and you were thankful for the water as it washed away any signs of your period. You were a panting mess as you nipped and sucked on his neck, moaning when he pushed you down onto him as he guided your hips to grind down on him.

"Fuck," you hissed, soaking in the feeling of a sting as another slap was delivered to your ass. "Did you- fuck, did you bring a condom?"

A nod of his head was all you needed as you practically begged him to slip it on so you could take your seat on your throne. You kissed him like your life depended on it as he blindly reached for the condom wherever he had put it, slipping it on once he found it.

You felt your pussy throbbing, you were so unbelievably turned on and your period hormones amplified the feeling by a thousand. You let out a string of whines as he teased you with the head of his cock, rubbing it through your folds and over your entrance but never pushing in.

"Jakey," you whined. "Please, baby."

He shushed you, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other held his hard cock, continuing his teasing.

"There's no need to beg, pretty girl." he spoke, his voice coming out much lower and raspier than before. "I'm gonna give you what you need." he promised, teasing his tip at your entrance. "I'll take care of you."

A small yelp left your lips followed by a loud moan as he slipped in without warning. You loved how full he made you feel, it always lingered even after he finished ravishing you. You grinded your hips onto him, feeling his cock moving inside of you.

"I want you to fuck yourself on it," he spoke, wrapping his hand around your throat as he pulled you down, his lips instantly going to your ear. "Fuck yourself on my cock, take whatever you need to make that pussy feel better."

You moaned at his words, and you immediately secured your knees on the bench next to him as you started bouncing up and down on his lap. All sorts of moans and whines left your lips, his own moans falling into the mix. You were a mess above him though you had only just started, but your period had you feeling all sorts of sensitive all over your body.

"How does it feel, hmm?"

You moaned, bouncing yourself a little harder. You loved when he talked to you while he was buried deep inside of you, he was like a whole other person. Outside of your pussy he was sexy, yeah and he was nice and soft and mushy, but when he was deep inside of you with his balls constantly slapping against your ass he turned into the dirtiest version of himself and you loved every single second of it.

A slap on your ass brought you out of your thoughts, and you felt your pussy throb at the feeling.

"I asked you a question." he demanded.

You slowed your movements, not being able to do both as you spoke.

"It feels so good, baby." you said into his ear. "So, so good."

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady for a moment before raising you slightly, only to slam you back down.

"Fuck!"

Your eyes were squeezed shut as he delivered blow after blow, showing no mercy as he repeated his actions. Your legs trembled beneath you, and you were glad you had him to rely on as you could barely hold yourself up.

"What was it that you said? How did it feel?"

You knew what he was doing, and you wanted to give him what he wanted but he just felt so good, slipping in and out of you with ease. You loved how vocal he was in bed, but he also expected the same from you. Normally you were better at it, but right now you were putty in his lap and he knew it, which is why he continued to press for you to speak.

"F-fuck," you stuttered. "Your cock feels so good, so fucking good Jakey oh my G-"

He cut you off with a hard thrust into you. He loved how he could make you turn into a puddle of mush just with his cock.

"Yes!" you cried, pushing on his shoulder to meet him halfway as he thrusted in to you. "Fuck yes, right there."

He fucked up into you as hard as he could from the position he was in, and you dug your nails into his shoulders as he did so. He knew just how to please you, he knew just where you liked him to touch, so when his tip brushed against that bundle of nerves deep inside of you, you lost it.

"Oh my god don't stop," you begged. "Please don't stop,"

A string of 'please' continuously left your lips, your throat becoming sore at all of the vocalization. His hand delivered another slap to your ass, and he all but growled as he fucked you harder, if even possible.

You felt the heat building in your stomach, though you didn't want it to end. It grew stronger and stronger and you tried to hold it but you couldn't. You pushed your hand in between your bodies, reaching for your clit to encourage your orgasm.

"You gonna cum?" he asked, but he knew the answer.

By the way his moans were becoming more consistent you knew he felt your pussy tightening around him, bringing him closer to his own release.

"Are you gonna cum on my cock?"

All you could do was let out a pathetic whimper as you nodded.

"Use your words, princess. Tell me where you're gonna cum."

You picked up the pace on your clit, your forehead coming down to rest on his shoulder as you moaned.

"I'm gonna cum all over your cock," you repeated. "I'm gonna cum all over your cock, baby."

He let out a mixture of a moan and a growl as he picked up his pace.

"Fuck yeah you are, you're gonna cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."

You felt your body begin to shake even more as you felt your release getting closer.

"Baby," you panted. "Jake I'm gonna-"

"Cum, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my cock."

That's all it took for you to reach your release, your moans echoing through the bathroom as they bounced along the walls. You were so entranced by your orgasm that you almost missed the 'fuck!' coming from Jake as he spilled himself inside of you. He continued to fuck into you as you both rode out your orgasms, eventually stopping all movements once it became too much.

You slumped over his shoulder, clinging onto him to not fall off of his lap. You felt incredibly drained in the best way possible.

Jake took a hold of your hips, lifting you up to pull out his now soft dick from inside of you before he let you back down to rest on his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you shared a mixture of 'I love yous'. He placed a kiss on your lips, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as he spoke.

"How's that for pain remedy?"

--------------------------

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inlocusmads · 8 months

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somewhere only we know ~ guinevere x artura

Artura takes Guinevere on a tour of the royal gallery (Characters from Guinevere, Choices) Painting: At the kitchen table by Thomas Benjamin Kennington [1856 – 1916]

No warnings | GA | 1.4k

A/N: I'm experimenting with a different format so it is cleaner and much nicer. This was just an excuse to write something very fluffy because once again, I was thinking about Artura.

There was something Guinevere had taken a keen notice to. It was rather minute, of course; something so small it couldn't be quantified with words, rather a feeling.

Artura led her to the large gallery in the palace in Camelot. It was something she was desperate to show Guinevere, but never had the time to - according to her. Dressed in her best just for the occasion; however small it might be, Artura let her hand find itself intertwined with Guinevere's palm; leading her from tapestry to paintings to the portraits the family had commissioned, the statues and idols the best craftsmen from all of Camelot had worked on.

"-- This is supposed to be the Royal Court." Artura said. "A bit of an artistic interpretation, really, with the gold ceilings. We do not actually have gold ceilings."

Guinevere could not focus on the portrait. Instead she took some time to appreciate Artura's golden curls. Short, rugged as if she was straight from a training session with her knights. Guinevere refused to entertain that thought more - Artura fighting with a sword, taking time to wipe her beautiful gorgeous hair off of her face, as she let out a deep battle cry; charging forward. Artura who sat down, a smile on her face as she tied up her wounds with such care and polished her sword; only to look up and have sopping wet curls on her face. Her laugh. Her beautiful laugh.

"This is a picture of the Royal Garden" Artura smiled up at the patch of roses and the trees that the artists had taken majestic creative liberties with. "We do have a strawberry garden that would go -- right there--" Artura pointed at the painting and Guinevere's eyes followed it. "We should have had it repainted but -- the costs are better used elsewhere, I think. However, I believe this is beautiful."

Guinevere did not realise she was supposed to be looking at the painting and not at Artura, explaining what it meant.

"Huh, oh yes." she hastily agreed.

She had a nice laugh. Artura. Her voice was nearly angelic. Guinevere felt her heart race a bit, as she took an even keener notice on how Artura explained things. She took such an interest. Her eyes lit up, almost angelically as she looked at the paintings with such fondness in her eyes. These gestures with her hands - they were almost sculpted. She loved it. She loved to tell stories; to tell someone about it and she poured in every ounce of her love for art into their conversation. Artura had the brightest smile. Guinevere observed how her lips curved a little, before she squinted with curiosity.

"Do I have something on my chin?"

"Huh? Oh no, not at all -- your Highness."

"Guinevere, my dear." Artura tch'ed. "You can call me Artura, you know that, I presume? Why should there be any formalities between us?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course. I knew that."

"Is something the matter? You seem -- nervous." Artura raised a hand and pressed it against Guinevere's cheek. "You are not running a fever, I hope. The Camelot winters can be -- rather treacherous."

"No -- I -- erm -- well, you see -- Artura -- the thing is -- oh perhaps you can tell me about this -- work of art! Yes, this one! The king with his -- beard! Who is this man? Was he the ruler before you ascended the throne?"

"I believe that is quite a mythical figure from the stories. You see, back in the--"

Artura was not completely oblivious to the fact that Guinevere liked looking at her. She knew. She had a little teasing smile too, while she went on to explain about the lore behind the artwork; giving Guinevere ample time to decide if she should or not. And Guinevere chose not to. Looking was best done from afar. Guinevere did not think about how it might feel to have Artura's lips against here, her tight warm embrace in the halls of the gallery. How it would feel if she called her a "work of art", how everything might feel - how if Guinevere pushed her luck, Artura might grow frustrated, grab her by her shoulders and kiss her. How Guinevere would finally have a chance to hold her head in her palms and look at her as if she were the only person in the whole universe; a masterpiece.

Artura knew.

Guinevere did not know that she knew.

Artura had always believed her Princess was just too tight. Too curt. Too modest.

"And -- my dear, were you listening? What did I tell you about the significance of the dragon in this painting?"

Guinevere swallowed. "That the king had it guard his treasury?"

"There is no dragon!"

"Ah yes -- it must be my eyesight. The doctors have always told me that I might be -- shortsighted and--"

"Guinevere, my love, you do not need my permission to kiss me."

Guinevere blinked.

"I -- I have -- no -- now let us not get too hasty -- the thing is -- I--" Guinevere rubbed the back of her neck, trying to come up with a coherent answer.

Artura folded her arms, the curves of her biceps tightening against the fabric of her dress. "Frankly, my dear, you have been staring quite too much."

"It is rather criminal there is no dragon." Guinevere inhaled a sharp breath. "I like them. Really. They have -- majestic scales and -- wings and the books, they do it rather well, do they not? It is --"

Guinevere couldn't finish that thought. The warmth of Artura's lips found hers. Without hesitation, Guinevere slipped her arms around Artura's waist, drawing her closer; not long before they found her hair, as she combed the golden ringlets off her face.

"See? It is simple." Artura broke off and smiled.

"I am --"

"It is just so new -- to see you so flustered. I cannot imagine the great mage, Guinevere of Cameliard -- glowing red in the cheeks!"

"I should be telling you that." Guinevere said, "Look at you. You are beautiful. Utterly handsome. Far from what these paintings can only aspire to capture - and -- I doubt I am any deserving of you, much less your love."

"Ah, my dear Guinevere. I must say the same, but we will be here for eternity if we were to play this game."

Artura tucked a stray strand of hair behind Guinevere's ear.

"And I could not help but stare."

"So improper."

"By the way, I do not get flustered."

"Of course, of course. You just turn red in the cheeks. A very common occurrence." Artura raised her eyebrows cheekily, throwing her head back and laughing.

"Only when I see you, of course."

"You are going to make this tour of the palace the most difficult task I have ever partaken, is it not?" Artura smiled softly, laughing as Guinevere stole another kiss.

"Very much." Guinevere mumbled, wrapping her arms around Artura's waist, drawing her closer.

***

Tagging:

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam

Guinevere: @cassie-thorne @mvalentine

#guinevere choices #guinevere x artura #w:inlocusmads #artura pendragon

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 1 year

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Thranduil and Josie Part 77- What Lies Beneath

Summary: Time jump! 1 day till Halloween and Lestat's masquerade ball. Josie is now back in the lion's den and spends much time alone but not by her wishes. Thranduil has made residence in another room. Raven is released from lock up in the dungeons but not before another presence in the pits makes themselves known who knows all about her which noticeably disturbs Caroline. An unpleasant breakfast gathering takes place. The brat Prince and the Elvenking both handle the batty Raven who's mad as a hatter. Thranduil's brutish behavior to his wife continues. Lestat tries to comfort Josie. She's cynical at first, but soon finds the closed off vampire no different from Garrett as she learns his past. Josie drifts off to sleep to a beautifully sad tune while Raven makes an escape to do her dirty bidding.....

*Angst* *Mentions of death*

3 days had passed since Selene brought you back to the vampire inferno atop the snowy desolate mountain. Thranduil was so furious and hurt that he took vacancy in another room. You had not seen or heard from him since you walked through Lestat's front doors as Thranduil glared at you in disgust, which he had intently done to further get his point across. A point that was duly noted and hurt like hell. You shivered throughout the night while you tried to sleep but all you could do was cry and when you did manage to go under, the haunting dreams were waiting.

The weather outside was still frightful and the fires that lurked inside were not delightful. You hung out with Haldir and Legolas some, but you could tell even they were not thrilled with your actions so you kept to yourself. It didn't even seem to matter what Thranduil had done. Apparently he was excused of his past discretions because it was 20 years ago when it occurred. Never mind the fact he concealed it from you or that it was your mother he screwed. You were outnumbered when it came to Garrett being involved and were offered no free passes for your actions like your King was...if he was even still your King. You felt like a plague and officially abandoned....alone with a baby inside of you. You had managed to alienate everyone you loved and were a magnet for those you didn't. That being Lestat, Caroline and...Raven, wherever she disappeared to since she was melted with water like the wicked witch she was.

-Somewhere down below-

"You can let me out now! I've been in here for....I don't even know how long now! Mommy fearest! Marius you filthy trader!! LeFuck!!" Raven's weak shouts echoed through the dim lit murky dungeons of the Chateau de Lioncourt.

"Does your mouth ever cease? You will certainly receive no assistance with that foul tongue."

Raven bolted to the iron bars but didn't dare touch them as being part vampire, it would put her on her ass and in her weakened state, she may not survive it. "Who are you?? Where are you?? Speak freak!!" This was the first time she had heard a voice since she was thrown into the 6x6 cell like trash.

"Those who live in glass houses should not cast stones. Are you yourself not a freak? An abomination I believe it was that Viktor marked you as." The voice replied from down the hall.

Raven was now livid. She peeked through one of the square openings of the bars the best she could and was able to see a shadow moving about in a cell about 3 blocks down on the opposite side of hers. "It appears you are in the same predicament as me so maybe you should shut the fuck up!" She kept gawking down the hall but the voice went silent. "Hello?? Asshole!!"

Chains could be heard moving about. "Your hideous mouth is just like your mother's. My ears bleed and my blood curls to know you still exist....Clover."

"Ok that is it. Who the fuck are you?? How do you know so much about me?!"

"I know many things fiendish girl. Your nefarious ways will soon catch up with you all." The voice presaged and then gave an invidious laugh, then went silent as footsteps and keys could be heard in the distance.

"Mother!! That better be you! LET ME OUT!!!"

Caroline entered from the end of the hall where the other person was and gave them a dastardly glance as she passed the cell. She stopped at Raven's cell. "Have you learned your lesson on your erring ways? Or do you need another 3 days to think about it."

"You are such a hypocrite. Let me out of here. I'm hungry, filthy, irritated and I cannot take anymore of the stench or the ramblings of the jerk over there. Who the hell is that anyways? They know quite a bit about me and you and I get a witchy vibe from their presence, but I'm not strong enough to place it...I...I know this feeling...that smell....like....chamomile."

"They have spoken to you??" Caroline appeared worried and gave a troublesome look down the hall. "Well...Lestat's prisoners are none of your concern and they really should mind their tongue if they know what's good for them." She cautioned loudly with intent aimed at the hostage's ears. "Now...it's time to go." The vampire vixen couldn't seem to get Raven out of there fast enough. She unlocked the door and abruptly pulled Raven by her hand, leading her in the opposite direction of the mysterious captive.

Raven had to cover her eyes as she entered the light of day. Being in the dark so long made them sensitive.

"Now...the servants have prepared the morning's meal for the guests. You will be on your best behavior, eat your meal and return to your room."

"Wait..you're making me go in there like this?? I must look like I've been beaten with an ugly stick! You're doing this on purpose to humiliate me!!"

"What...did you think sitting in the dark with no food for 3 days was sufficient punishment for what you did?"

"Uh...YES!! God I hate you..." Raven reeled and went to sit at a solo table behind the main one that overlooked the window.

Marius came in and Raven literally made a snarl sound, then snapped her teeth together at him in a biting gesture. He smirked as he walked passed her and repeated the gesticulation. Marius was a laid back vampire who kept to himself but he had no tolerance for her insubordinate behavior and found her taunting tactics petulant yet amusing.

The next to enter was Haldir, Legolas and Thranduil all with flat unpleasant expressions. It was not their cup of tea to be in the same atmosphere as vampires let alone share the same room with them. Thranduil hustled in his swagger attire right to the bar where the wine sat atop calling his name. It was Dorwinion wine too. Narcisse didn't do business with vampires but that did not mean the astute Lestat couldn't get his hands on the sought after vintage. In this world, vampires also loved a superior ageless wine just as the elves. Thranduil swirled the grape around in his mouth, savoring the flavors of home and then let it roll down the back of his throat in one swift swallow. Haldir and Legolas sat on the opposite side of the table away from Raven and gawked at her backside with undeniable disgust.

She turned her head to the side. "I can feel you looking at me lowly sprites. Am I that desirable?" she grinned and rolled her eyes. "You know I had barbies as a child that looked a lot like you. I burnt off all their ugly blonde hair."

Haldir stiffened straight up in his chair with a miffed composure and Legolas followed suit. Thranduil sat down beside his son and rolled his eyes at them for allowing her to get under their skin so easily.

In you walked with the debonair Lestat in tow. It was not intentional to show up with him as you had crossed paths in the halls on your way there and he followed you to your dismay. You got the distinct feeling he went with you intentionally so you wouldn't feel alone and out of place since he was well aware of the treatment you were receiving. Lestat would certainly rather be off brushing his cat than be subdued to this chaotic state of affairs. Marius sat nonchalantly with his feet up reading a magazine but what he was really doing was supervising so things didn't turn into another shit show.

"Sorry I'm late. I was just out trying to catch my breakfast." Lestat joked. Although he probably was telling the truth.

Thranduil's pupils dilated in pure green envy at the sight of you with him and quite frankly, it made you happy. At least you knew he still cared, or so you thought. Haldir and Legolas stood up at your entry. "My Queen." they both expressed and gave a head bow. Thranduil gritted his teeth at their display while he sat firmly in his chair. They were only being respectful gentlemen but knowing their affections of you only exasperated him. The yandere side of him was quite evident over the past few days and it just kept uncontrollably intensifying.

You and Raven locked eyes. She reached up and placed her hand on your shoulder. "Well look at what the cat dragged in." she rudely stated. You smacked it away as you glared down at her with pursed lips.

"Don't you ever touch me again or I will rip your arm from it's socket." You then walked away to go sit down.

Thranduil actually could not help himself and allowed a proud smirk to form as he glanced at Raven with deriding eyes.

"Ooooo. Touchyyy." she snarked.

Lestat slowly walked about behind Raven. "Speaking of cats. Louie sends his love with a special present. He heard you were famished."

He pulled something out of his pocket, then dropped a dead mouse on her plate. Raven screamed and flew out of her chair so fast, it tipped over. "You distasteful Lefuck! What the hell is your problem??"

"Oh please. I think you know the answer to your own idiotic question. It's you. Now sit your shameful ingrate ass down and eat your meal. I would hate it if Louie's feelings were hurt...again by you. You see...when he's angry, then I'm angry. And I don't think you want to make me angry."

Lestat's eyes flashed a sinful red and her entire sour demeanor turned to that of fright. Apparently she has witnessed an irate Lestat before and it obviously wasn't a pleasant memory. He had great patience but it was wearing thin with her. "And by the way, my name is Lestat. Get it right the next time my name exits your vulgar mouth, although I would prefer you never speak it at all."

"You...you cannot seriously expect me to eat that??"

'What is the problem? Is Louie's preference of food beneath yours? Would you rather I bring you a child? Would that be less....revolting?"

You sat with your jaw dropped open at this little opprobrium Lestat was inflicting on the deserving entitled bitch. Her treatment of you seemed to have triggered him. At least someone was on your side and if it had to be Lestat, then so be it. It was shocking though after how you treated him the other day. Was he trying to possibly show up Thranduil?

"Mother??? You're not going to let him make me eat that???" Raven pleaded. Caroline looked down and said nothing. She seemed to have learned her lesson from the other day when she crossed Lestat.

"Eat it or starve. It is your choice. No other food will be offered to you." Lestat flatly stated. In came the servants with all the delicious smelling food and she just stared at it in disbelief.

"You're going to serve a bunch of repulsive elves all this food and give me nothing??" Raven glared at Lestat with bugged out eyes.

"You do not have nothing." He solemnly stated.

Her eyes raged. "I will not eat that!!" She picked up the plate and smashed it on the ground at his feet. Oh god. You were now genuinely frightened yourself as to what was going to happen. The look in Lestat's eyes was deadly and you could see his jaw clench as he swallowed.

No one was going to do anything and you did not want to see her get her throat ripped out no matter how much you despised her, so you intervened and slipped between them. Lestat looked you up and down at your temerity which you couldn't tell if he was offended or enamored by it.

"There is no need to get violent. Why don't you just send Raven to her room for now and let yourselves cool down??"

"I will not just go away! Who the hell are you to give orders to me?? Where is Garrett?? He will not let you all treat me as such!!"

"Oh...haven't you heard? Garrett has left the building... and he will not be returning. He has no power here nor over me and would be a fool to offer you protection and an even bigger one to challenge me. Do as she said. Go to your room little girl before I make you."

"Oh my god!! You're taking her side?? and why did he leave?? What did you do to him?? It was...you! Wasn't it?? He left because of you!!!" she snapped as she spun to you. "Look at you...all these men falling at your feet, kissing the ground you walk on! But that just wasn't good enough huh?? You just had to have G too and take him away from me! He was the only one who ever treated me like I mattered and now I have nothing! You will pay for this sister."

Her eyes glowed burnt orange as she death glared you. It seemed her power was returning now that she was not confined behind iron.

You heard Garrett's words echo in your mind. 'Find your zone and focus but don't go bananas like your fruitloop sister.' Your hand filled up like a 4th of July Phuljhari as you clenched your fist.

Thranduil saw your hand light up and knew he needed to conciliate the situation before it literally got out of hand.

The next thing you knew, Thranduil swiftly made his way to Raven.

"You started this wicked one, you will forgive me if I finish it."

The Elvenking displayed another round of his unseen glorious magic by you. An electricity ball formed between his hands and shot out like lightning, knocking an unsuspecting Raven right on her ass.

Thranduil's choice of weapon were always his swords but when that was taken away, his powerful wizardry of light surfaced, although a wizard he was not.

Marius quickly reprimanded her inside his arms of steel as Thranduil came face to face with the swearing and struggling pyrotechnic.

"It is no secret that you have no regard for a child's life but you will never harm my child or her mother, or you will suffer my wrath. I can assure you dhampir, your power is no match for mine. This was a mere warning. Another attempt and I will sever more than your wretched arm from your miserable body."

"Now that the Elvenking has had his turn to play, Marius. Take this headache to her room and secure it. It seems she hasn't had enough time to reflect." Lestat ordered. Marius whisked her away and Caroline followed as she gave an imperil glare to Thranduil.

"No! You will ALL pay for this, especially you elfling." Raven threatened through her teeth as she squirmed and sniggered while being drug out the door.

You skittishly approached Thranduil. "Th...Thank you for helping me." you softly said with a caring smile.

Thranduil peered down at you with an expressionless face and then went to reclaim his seat. "I did not do it for you. I did it for my daughter. She is of the only importance to me."

His words cut you like a knife. Your eyes began to swell as he went about his breakfast completely impervious to your pain. You turned to leave and slightly stumbled over a chair, then ran out crying.

You found yourself in the library sitting on the couch that you and Garrett conversed on. Covering your face with your hands, you began to loudly sob. A cool wind showered over you. "Garrett?" you gasped as you dropped your hands to your knees.

There stood Lestat holding out a tissue. "Sorry to disappoint you." His sarcasm was clear cut.

You sniffled and took the kleenex. "Thank you.....What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." he simply stated.

"It's not like I have anywhere to go. You were right. They have all forsaken me. Thranduil, Haldir, Legolas, Raven, Garrett...my own mother..."

"I told you that I would not. You can always come to my room and spend that time with me I asked for. I have something that you might be interested in seeing."

Although Lestat appeared to look and sound genuinely concerned, you still took his words as a sexual invitation. "Seriously?!! Is that all I am good for? A roll in the hay? Go figure, you're just like the rest." You then got up in a huff to leave.

Lestat grabbed your arm and spun you around so quickly, your vision blurred. "And you're just like all the rest, assuming I am nothing but a sexual predator!"

"Is that not what you are?! Look what you did to me in your room and then later in my dream!" you reeled with validation.

"It is the nature of the beast in me yes, but that is not all that I am. You wouldn't know that now would you because you will not take the time to get to know me. Have I harmed you? Have I forced you to do anything you did not....want to do? Little miss Josie, too good for the likes of a vampire...oh wait....only THIS vampire. Yet I am the one who is here........"

"Don't you do that. Don't you dare blame Garrett for his decision. He did it for me." you cried in his defense.

"I was not solely referring to Garrett. I came here offering you comfort. Has anyone else? Yet you stand here all high and mighty before me. I am sorry your husband makes you feel desired only for the bedroom. He's a fool to not see your worth otherwise and does not deserve you or the child you carry."

"How dare you speak of him or my child in such a way!" You raised your hand to smack him and he caught it mid air. He squeezed your wrist and yanked you against him as you gasped in fear.

"Can't handle the truth? He just tore your heart out and stomped on it in front of a room full of people and yet you still defend him. I can see I have wasted my time here." He tossed your wrist to the side and began to walk away.

"Wait!...."

Lestat halted and slowly turned back to you.

"You're right....you're right about everything. I am just so....lost. Nothing is like it was supposed to be. All the dreams I had....they're just gone. If anyone was a fool...it was me to believe in such fairytale bullshit. I used to think my prior life was so horrible and I prayed to be saved. I prayed for another life. Some perfect little story from a book but....they're not real. I knew that all along but...I wanted to believe. My belief was the only light I had then when my world was so dark. And now....it's pitch black."

Lestat contemplated on your words for a moment and then he began to walk back to you. "Then think about what I am offering you. I can fix all of that but you have to meet me in the middle somewhere." His chilly fingertips stroked your tear stricken cheek.

"Is...your bedroom the middle? I will go...I will spend that time with you. But...I am the one who is in control here. My pace...Can you handle that?"

The leery Lestat was not one for compromises but he agreed. "Yes and...yes."

Upon entering his chambers, your body stiffened. You had no idea what was going to happen. With the vulnerable state you were in, you knew you shouldn't have agreed to this but you didn't want to spend yet another sleepless lonely night in your room. "So...what is it that you wanted to show me?" You slightly gulped hoping it wasn't what you were thinking.

Lestat beamingly smiled and walked over to a large wooden box.

When you had first arrived at his chateau, Lestat played the violin for you but you had only wanted to find Thranduil which upset him. "I thought maybe this time you would be more invested in hearing me play?" The tiny instrument laid inside a coffin shaped box lined with red velvet. He carefully uncovered it and took it out as if it were his prize possession. It probably was.

A wave of relief rushed over you. "Ohh...that...is what you wanted to show me?"

The vampire that never expressed much humor actually chortled. "You were expecting a more...personal instrument of mine?"

Well now you just felt extremely embarrassed and were probably as red as the material in that box. You played it cool. "Poor Lestat. You wish."

He became even more amused by your terrible attempt at evading the question. "Do you want to...touch it?" he wickedly grinned as he held the violin out to you.

"No thanks. I think I know what it feels like." Oh that was so bad, you thought. Your mind had went straight to the gutter and remembered when he had you pinned against the wall right behind you, pressing his unyielding cock against you.

He knew exactly what you were referring to. "I assure you, it feels much different when it's out of it's....enclosure."

The always unamused vampire had jokes. You decided to keep humoring him. "Does that go for the size too?" Holy shit, what was he doing to you? It was like his aura was captivating you in every way.

"It's not the size of the fangs, it's how you bite."

Ok, this had to stop. You decided to deflect. "Don't you have much better things to do with your time than this?"

"All a vampire has is time."

"You got me there....So...I'm much more curious about something other than your...instrument and it's capabilities. Why is it you were carrying around a dead mouse in your pocket? You had no intentions of going into the dining room. You only did that to follow me."

Lestat gave a playful smile. "I was on my way to her room to place it under her pillow. Yep."

You busted out in laughter. "Now that would have been much more amusing than dropping it on her plate."

"It would have yes, but it all worked out the same. She has crossed one too many lines."

"Well....thank you by the way for attempting to shut her down although it horribly failed."

"It did not fail. Pissed her off more? Yes...but she knows my limits. Her and I have a rocky past, but it's obvious Garrett told you all about that since you seem to know about other things in my life that I speak to no one about. Raven was pure hellfire. A little child she was, but also a fierce killer capable of the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding. I wanted to end her putrid existence on more than one occasion but Louis wouldn't hear of it. Garrett wouldn't have either but he wasn't around so much after what she did. He was smart, I will give him that. He wanted to steer clear of the dangers that followed her. Viktor and his death dealers being of top priority after her rampage on Laketown. A vampire's life is a life of discretion but Clover had no concept of that at her age. She still wouldn't if she were set free. Caroline and her demon seed cannot hide forever. I have only prolonged the inevitable for them. Death will come for them. I can feel it."

His words sent shivers clear through you. "Then why have you...and still do continue to harbor them? Aren't you worried you will be shown no mercy for aiding and abetting them?"

"Good. Let them come. I'm not worried." the ever so confident vampire raved as he sat down beside you.

"You're doing it all for Louis aren't you? Why? He left you alone."

"As I told you before...In the end, we are all alone. Immortality seems like a good idea until you realize you're going to spend it that way. You should now know this yourself."

"How...how do you do it though? Living up here so desolate, away from the world? It must be unbearable in some way?"

"There comes a time for every vampire when the idea of eternity becomes momentarily unbearable. Living in the shadows, feeding in the darkness with only your own company to keep rots into a solitary, hollow existence."

"Don't you want love? I mean...someone to share eternity with?"

Lestat sarcastically joked. "With all my black little heart."

"So....you've never had love? Respectfully, you look quite young for your turning age but seem quite matured otherwise."

Lestat chuckled. "I am over 400 years old. Maybe it's Maybelline."

"Funny. Seriously...how old are you...human wise?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"Ok well...you truly don't look much older than me....24?"

The look of astonishment on his face was priceless. "Nailed it."

"You're kidding right? I'm 24...."

"I know...Your blood told me when I tasted it."

"You mean when you told me my blood does not satisfy your thirst. What did that mean anyways since you seem to be so intrigued with me."

"You're beautiful to me because you're human. Your frailty. Your short years. Your heart. All that suddenly seems more precious than anything I've ever known. The fact that I do not desire your blood made you all the more desirable because I have never tasted a blood I did not crave."

"And here I thought it was because of my looks." you giggled.

"Oh you are most definitely one stunning creature physically. I cannot deny that."

"So...you still didn't answer me. You have never known love?" It was obvious he had hoped you would give up on that question.

"I...I'm sorry. You do not have to tell me...Please don't be angry."

"I am not angry. I will tell you if you also have the time...."

"I'm here aren't I?"

"That you are.....I'm from New Orleans. As you are probably aware of, Mardi Gras is a huge thing there. How I love that time. Party's, masquerade balls, getting shit faced, girls girls girls....I think you get the idea. Vampires though...not something supposed to be real although it has always been portrayed that New Orleans was the city of the dead. Low and behold...the myths were true. Marius de Romanus found me. He is my maker. My keeper. He probably regrets that at times." he laughed.

"One night, shortly after my conversion, he took me out on the beach. There were many gatherings there at night celebrating the event. Bon fires, music etc.... One in particular group of 2 people, man and woman, had their own spot and fire going. As Marius and I walked through the sand, nothing appeased me until I heard the music...the violin she played, a guitar he strummed. I wanted to go and listen but Marius told me I could not interact with humans anymore. Made me wonder why he even took me to a place filled with them when I was forbidden to "know" them. I could not help myself and went to watch them play. I was instantly infatuated with the woman. A young brunette with her long hair tied back. She played with such ease and grace. I knew the song. It was the same tune I played for you. I can never forget it. Or her. She looked at me while she played and smiled. it was an unmistakable inviting smile. I wanted to know her. Be with her. We spoke for awhile and I learned her name. Sophia. Marius fumed as he stood watch but I didn't care. I asked her to play some more. There laid an extra violin and I picked it up, then joined in with them. It all was good until the vampire in me took over without my knowing. I began playing erratically and my eyes glowed without my consent. The man panicked and then so did Sophia. They ran screaming, drawing attention from others. Marius forced me to handle it."

"We chased them down and I....I killed her...but only by snapping her neck. Marius took care of the man and then we burned them in an abandoned bonfire. It haunted me for years...even to this day. Like Garrett, I did not choose this life and I did not want to kill people. Love you ask? I loved the idea of her. Her face still haunts me. How scared she was of me when she saw my true nature. Marius was right. I could have never been with her. At least I believed that at that time. Loving the monsters always ends badly for the human. It's a rule I was taught and believed it ever since then. This violin...was the one I played that night. I kept it. I don't know why. As if I needed a reminder of what I had done. So there you have it. I suppose that's the closest to love I had become."

Within a period of 3 days, you have heard the tragic stories of 2 vampires. It was truly heart wrenching to you and only proved your beliefs that they're not all monsters. You missed Garrett so much in that moment. Although Lestat's story was incredibly sad, you found Garrett's much worse, especially how traumatized he was by it. But then again, Lestat has lived with his for 400 years. It was still fresh to Garrett. The fact Lestat still felt grief over it though spoke volumes about him.

"I thank you for trusting me and opening up about your past. There is no judgement from me.... I...I would love to hear you play again. This time I promise...I will truly listen. Oh...and before I forget...I saw a gramophone in the dining area today. May I use it sometime?"

"Yes you may....So...make yourself comfortable then. Relax on the couch. If you fall asleep, I do not mind. Do I have your answer then by the way, on the ball?"

You now could see why he liked masquerade balls and such. "Of course I will attend. All I've got is time." you said with a grin and then laid down.

He smiled and got up. "You see...this is all I wanted. Your time and company. Someone to listen and care about what I have to say." He then picked up the violin and began to play. It brought tears to your sleepy eyes as you drifted off to sleep minutes later to the sad music.

youtube

The music echoed through the castle as a slinking Raven found a way out of her room.

She was bound and determined to find out who the mysterious person was in the dungeons below that her mother kept a tight lip lock on. The disingenuous diva had a strong feeling that whomever it was...

would change the course of many things and many lives forever....

@redeemer46

Masterlist

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assaily · 2 years

Note

"new ask game for anyone who write fics: anonymously or not send an ask with one line from something I’ve written that really stood out to you or lingered with you"

It was the snippet you shared about howling at the moon with Luther and Diego and Luther angrily proclaiming he wouldn't leave five alone again, it really made me feel the emotion and feel excited about what is going to happen from where you left the story off. From this fic I also love the loneliness and insecurity five keeps trying to not think of when he goes thinking that maybe his family left him behind and it was his own fault for not covering his own back, and I just want to flip him upside the head.

And from 'Tangled in the hanging tree' I love five's internal monologue so much and the sibs pov in the whole situation and I just really love and miss the fic, I wish I could be more specific, but it's been a while since I read that one.

I really miss Tangled too, and still work on it in fits and bursts, but it hates me right now, so I’m letting it ferment. One day, I’ll figure out how to recapture whatever magic 2019 me had when they wrote those Fiveologues.

As for the Howling snippet, i think about that thing all the time.

I’m calling this part the Horrible Hospital Happening, and these snips may not even actually end up happening like they do. Also excuse the continuity error(s) with Viktor being there instead of Diego, I haven’t decided who’s gonna be the background sibling in this scene bc it’s mostly Luther and Five times.

Five had tucked himself into the corner of the room, between the cabinet and a monitor machine. His eyes looked bright under the mild mop of hair, but his hand holding the knife out in front of him shook.

The nurse turned worried eyes back to Luther. “He won’t let us get close.”

“Let us get him,” Viktor said, somewhere behind Luther’s right shoulder, but Luther wasn’t really paying attention.

Five’s glassy eyes had locked onto him, his mouth in a tight line and brows furrowed, but he was looking. Luther moved slowly and gracefully, no sudden moves, nothing that looked hostile. He made himself small, crouching down as the nurse got out of his way.

“You got this, Luther,” Viktor said behind him. “He’s been waiting for us.”

Luther tried with all his might not to let his breath hitch at those words, but it did anyway. Five had been waiting, waiting and watching, and suffering.

“Hey buddy,” Luther said, gentle and warm and he hoped it was familiar. Five looked too far out of it for him to be sure. “You know me, right?” He put a hand on his chest, afraid to scoot closer. “It’s Luther, Five. It’s your brother.”

The knife bobbed in the air, the shake in Five’s arm traveling into both of his shoulders. He shifted, face scrunching in that casual little wince he kept doing, and resettled himself slightly pitched forward. His eyes never left luther, but his face had relaxed into general confusion. “Luther?” he asked, voice broken and raspy.

“That’s right,” he said, sounding like he was talking to a toddler and hoping Five was too out of sorts to be mad about it. “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

Some complicated twisted Five’s face, the knife pulling in and tucking against his chest. Diego’s knife that Five kept ending up with somehow. His face rested down on his knees and he curled himself impossibly small. “You’re not real,” he whined, soft and mournful. “You’re not real.”

“No, no, Five. I am. How do I prove it to you?”

“Go away!” he shouted into his legs, never lifting his head. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want…” he was crying again, body trembling and tense and balled up so tight he looked like he could disappear in on himself. So small and vulnerable, holding himself together with strings and falling apart with sobs.

Luther couldn’t bear it, his throat tight and tears of his own slipping trails down his face. He wished he could take just an ounce away from him, whatever of his burden Five would let him shoulder. He reached out to the little trembling boy, his big brother who survived for them, and saved them, and broke for them, and now couldn’t even bring himself to believe that he’d really been saved himself.

The hand on his bony shoulder made Five flinch hard, startling so hard Luther felt bad. He nearly took his hand away, Five gasping as his head shot up to look at Luther. Wonder, disbelief, and painful, fragile hope shining back at him. He didn’t think much about it when he opened his arms, and he didn’t think Five was thinking much about it when he crawled inside of them.

“I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

Five tensed, shuddered in an awful, painful breath, and then melted against Luther’s chest. The breath came out in a quiet sob that rocked through both of them, Luther gathering up legs and his arms and holding him secure against him. Five held on in return, hands tangled in his shirt, body curled in and molded against Luther’s, desperate for every inch of closeness. Starved for it.

Viktor sighed in relief from somewhere else in the room. Five gave a sigh too, heavy and worn and impossibly tired.

#Howling is literally just an excuse for angst #i mean look at this crap #thank you for the ask <3 #nice things #tua fanfic

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smileygoth · 2 years

Text

23. Can Vampires Feel Love? (Vamptober 2022)

Find the full list of chapters here.

Back in the pack's haven, Jazz has a heart-to-heart with herself.

CW: Mental illness themes, brief mention of sex and mutilation. Not much this time.

Word count: 1,025 words.

Image by Megan Andrews on Unsplash.

Back in the shelter of the warehouse, Jazz curled up on the dirty mattress that was their bed and tried not to think. This proved difficult, however, since her thoughts were no longer entirely her own.

Don't you go disassociating on me, you little coward. You signed up for this, remember?

"How could I forget when you keep reminding me," she muttered under her breath.

It's kind of my job to keep you aware, you know. You don't really have the luxury of being able to disappear into your own brain any more. I mean, look where it's got you. Stuck in some crazy vampire devil cult where they turn people into clothes and slaughter buildings full of people for fun. How the hell they get away with it I have no idea, but for now be grateful they do, since you're one of them.

"I'm not one of them," Jazz argued.

No? Excuse me, but I'm pretty fucking sure that's exactly what that little blood ritual in the bar was about. You agreeing to be one of them.

"But I didn't know."

Well, you do now. Bit late now, though, isn't it? What exactly did that ritual do? Do you even know that?

Jazz had a fair idea. Since she had drunk the combined blood of the pack from that goblet, she'd felt a subtle but definite bond to them all. Nothing dramatic - not yet, anyway - but she felt a clear inclination toward staying with them. Otherwise, would she be here on this gross mattress, listening to Donna and Magnus screwing on the other side of the warehouse while Lucas chatted with Carl and Cat like it wasn't happening? She could have found somewhere else. A bed and breakfast bathtub would have been preferable to this. Or the boot of a stolen car. And yet she was here.

You sure that's the blood? Not just you being too scared to leave Lucas? Or too bonded to him?

She thought about it. It had only been a few nights, so it was hard for her to tell. But she didn't think she'd felt as close to Lucas since the Vaulderie as she had felt before it. He'd gone out without her once - 'hunting' with Carl and Grease - and she hadn't felt the pull, even though they'd been gone for hours. She'd fed from him that night too, since she'd neglected to go out and feed herself, and it hadn't felt as ... intimate. It was still good - really good - but not the same.

It's fading, isn't it? Your bond to Lucas? Guess you can't be bonded to the pack and him at the same time.

She presumed that if they stayed they'd have to do the Vaulderie again, and her bond to the pack would increase while her bond to Lucas disappeared. She had mixed feelings about that. She didn't want to be bound to the pack - hell, she didn't really even want to be bound to Lucas, or anybody. She still loved him - at least she thought she did - but she was very aware that her love had been forced from her by the blood bond. And the Vaulderie was the first thing that had seemed to have an effect on her bond to Lucas. A bond she'd given up on breaking.

So what's the plan? Get yourself bound to this lot instead? You'll still be stuck with him, only you'll be stuck with them too. It's not a solution - it's the fire, and you're in the frying pan.

"So why don't you suggest something, instead of just being a sarcastic bitch?" Jazz snapped.

There's the Jazz I remember, the Voice said smugly. Fine. I suggest you cut and run now, while both the bonds are weak. You let either of them get any stronger and you'll be trapped just like you were before.

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Voices playing up again?"

Jazz looked up to see Lucas looking down at her, holding the curtain aside in one hand. She sat up slowly. "Was I being loud?"

"No," Lucas replied, sitting down next to her. "I only heard you when I came over. You okay?"

He looked at her with such concern that she felt like crying. Instead she straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on. "I want to leave," she said quietly, so no one would overhear.

Lucas frowned. "Jazz, I know it's been a rough night -"

"That is the biggest understatement of the century," Jazz interrupted. "We literally watched one of them turn a man into an outfit and wear him, Lucas."

Lucas swallowed and nodded, dropping his gaze. "I know."

"We cannot stay here."

"... I know."

She paused. "You do?"

"Yeah. But I don't know how to get us out of this either." His voice was weak, ashamed. "I've really fucked up here, Jazz. I'm trying like hell to act like it's all okay, so they don't suspect us, but ..."

She reached out for his hand as he trailed off. "Well, you had me fooled." He looked up, and she gave him a small smile. "Look," she said. "I don't know how we're going to get out of this either. But will you promise me that if either of us see a chance, we'll take it?"

Lucas frowned. "It'll be dangerous," he said. "They'll kill us if they catch us."

"So what's new? Everyone seems to want to kill us."

Lucas chuckled bitterly. "I guess so."

"So if I run, will you come with me?"

Lucas looked at her for a long time. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Of course I will."

What are you doing? the Voice screamed. This is the perfect opportunity to get away from him!

If I leave him here, Jazz replied silently, They'll kill him.

So what? Good fucking riddance!

I'm not leaving him to die!

Why not? Because you love him? How do you even know if that love is real and not just the blood bond? How do you even know that you're capable of feeling real love any more?

Jazz closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Shut up, she thought.

The Voice turned sulky. Fine. Do what you want. There was a pause, then it offered one final thought: It's our funeral.

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #malkavian #sabbat vtm #sabbat

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shxxtingstxxs · 2 years

Text

Okay so I am aware that this is left field. But this is absolutely amazing. You can use this tool here.

https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator

[ For @copterbotblades ~ ]

Blades: I would never say that my partner is a bitch and I don’t don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a bitch and I like them so much!

Blades: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

RB!Rose: I wrote you a poem.

Blades, already crying: You did?

Blades: RB!Rose, you love me, right?

RB!Rose: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Blades: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreashing.

RB!Rose: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Blades: I like your new pants!

RB!Rose: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Blades: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*

RB!Rose: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Blades: Thats’s… not what I meant.

RB!Rose: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Blades.

Blades: Do you want to know your gay name?

RB!Rose: My... my gay name?

Blades: Yeah, it's your first name-

RB!Rose: Haha. Very funny Blades-

Blades: *gets down on one knee* And my last name.

RB!Rose: Oh- oh my god.

Blades: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

RB!Rose: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Blades: Holy moly-

Blades: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

RB!Rose: Nope, there's 26.

Blades: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

RB!Rose: Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.

Blades: You'll get the D later ;).

RB!Rose: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Blades: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

RB!Rose: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Blades: Is it working?

Blades: This date is boring!

RB!Rose: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Blades: Then why did you invite me?

RB!Rose: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you RB!Rose I'll do whatever I want!

Blades: Talk dirty to me, baby~

RB!Rose: The dishes.

Blades: Wh-

RB!Rose: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

RB!Rose: Did it hurt when you fell-

Blades: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

RB!Rose: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Blades: ...

RB!Rose: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

RB!Rose: *angrily presses Blades against a wall* WHERE'S THE MONEY?!

Blades: ...

Blades: Are we about to kiss-

Blades: I love you.

RB!Rose, not paying attention: What was that?

Blades: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

RB!Rose, to Heatwave: Look at you! All cute and small! I could just eat you up!

Heatwave: *proceeds to kick them in the shin and run away*

Blades, walking past: Rule number 1, don't call Heatwave cute or small.

Heatwave: Do you ever get pre-annoyed? Like you already know someone is going to piss you off?

Blades: What? No, I—

RB!Rose: *enters room*

Heatwave: *jaw clenches*

Blades: How do you tell someone that you wanna have sex with them in a polite way?

RB!Rose: Excuse me Mx. Would you give me the honours of indulging in sexual activities with you?

Heatwave: What the fuck is wrong with you two?

Blades: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Heatwave: Did RB!Rose say 'I love you' and you said 'Thanks'?

Blades: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

*Blades is casually searching around the room*

Heatwave : Hey Blades, what’re you looking for?

Blades: My will to live.

*RB!Rose walks into the room*

Blades: Oh, there it is.

Blades: Pfft, you should meet RB!Rose, they're such a tsundere.

Heatwave: They... they just stabbed you.

Blades: So cute.

Blades: RB!Rose is off at an appointment, so while they’re gone, I’m going to cut the sleeves off all of my shirts.

Heatwave: Why?

Blades: They’re like 90Heatwave of my impulse control.

RB!Rose: Blades annoyed me today so I told them that I can’t wait to see what they have planned for our special day tomorrow.

Heatwave: There is nothing special about tomorrow.

RB!Rose: But there is something special about watching the color leave their face as panic takes over.

RB!Rose: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you?

Blades: Well it’s actually a class, but unfortunately it’s full right now.

Blades: Would you like me to tutor you?

Heatwave: That was smooth.

Blades: If I say I love you, will you say it back?

RB!Rose: Yes.

Blades: I love you.

RB!Rose: It back.

*Later*

Heatwave: Why is Blades crying face-down on the floor?

Heatwave: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with RB!Rose recently.

Blades: No, Heatwave, it's not what it looks like, I swear.

Heatwave: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Blades: No! You’re the only one for me.

Heatwave: Is that so?

Blades: I promise! RB!Rose and I are just dating, okay? They’re my partner.

Heatwave: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved?

Blades: You are still my one and only best friend! They’re just the love of my life, nothing more!

Heatwave: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right?

Blades: Of course bro!

Heatwave: Bro...

RB!Rose: What the-

Blades: *cooking*

RB!Rose: *kicks down door*

RB!Rose: *grabs knife from Blades's hand*

RB!Rose: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR?

Blades:

Blades: What.

Heatwave: They're trying to tell you they want to cook.

Heatwave: ....Thou shalt not marry each other, for thy art both sinful...

RB!Rose: I just wanna fucking marry Blades!!

Blades, talking to Heatwave: Well Heatwave, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would RB!Rose do that?’ and if they would, I do not do that thing.

Heatwave: …

RB!Rose, from the distance: They’re not wrong though!

RB!Rose: Thank you all for coming.

Heatwave, wearing a hospital gown: When I heard you couldn't get laid, I dropped everything and came straight here.

RB!Rose: Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else being part of the "Fuck RB!Rose Task Force".

Blades: Yeah, I interpreted that in a different way.

Blades, holding a rock: RB!Rose just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock".

Heatwave: If you don't marry them, I will.

RB!Rose: Well, remember when Blades made a romantic dinner for me?

Heatwave: RB!Rose, they microwaved you a pizza.

Heatwave: And here we see Blades and RB!Rose in their natural habitat. Texting eachother variations of the word "garlic bread" to try to make eachother laugh.

Blades: Gaelic bread.

RB!Rose: Grueling brad.

Blades: Ha ha, glamorous beans.

Blades: I asked RB!Rose out.

Heatwave: Oh, I’m sorry.

Blades: Why?

Heatwave: Well, I assume they said no.

Blades: No, they said yes.

Heatwave: Really? Then I’m sorry for them.

RB!Rose, about Blades: They're covered in blood again. Why is it they're always covered in blood?

Heatwave: Well, it looks like it's their own blood this time.

Blades: sapnu puaS.

RB!Rose: What??

Heatwave: What language is that.

Blades: Turn your phone 180 degrees.

*Blades was removed from the groupchat*

Blades, rushing into the room: It’s terrible, just terrible! I am so upset!

RB!Rose: Blades, honey, sit down! Sweetheart, tell us all about it. Heatwave, would you get Blades some water?

Heatwave: What are they gonna do with water? Has water ever made you feel better when you were upset? Have you ever heard anyone say, “Thank God, the water’s here!”?

RB!Rose: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year.

Heatwave: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Do you guys think I have anger issues?

Blades: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.

Blades: We're having a baby.

Heatwave: Oh, cangradu-

RB!Rose, slamming adoption papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

Heatwave: That shirt looks great, Blades.

Blades: Thanks.

Heatwave: But I bet it would look even better on RB!Rose's floor.

RB!Rose: Are you hitting on Blades... for me?

*Blades is telling a story*

RB!Rose: Wow, Blades, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance!

Heatwave: Romance?

RB!Rose: I have a crush on them.

RB!Rose: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Heatwave?

Heatwave: No.

Blades: I do!

RB!Rose: I know, Blades.

Blades: I’m sad.

RB!Rose: I know, Blades.

Heatwave: And now for a gay update with RB!Rose and Blades.

Blades: Getting gayer.

Heatwave: Thank you, Blades.

Blades, grinning: Before you were what?

RB!Rose: Before I was-

Blades: What?

RB!Rose: Before I was inter-

Blades: Before you were interrupted?

RB!Rose: Cut me off one more time and I swear I'll-

Blades: What?

RB!Rose: *makes frustrated sound*

Heatwave, nervously: Stop that. Before they hurt you.

RB!Rose: Sorry, I'm late to the party. I've been doing things.

Blades, entering in an unbuttoned shirt: I got caught up doing things too.

Heatwave: Wow, RB!Rose was late too! What a coincidence!

RB!Rose & Blades: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*

RB!Rose: We need an adult!

Blades: RB!Rose, you are an adult!

RB!Rose: We need an adultier adult! Get Heatwave!

RB!Rose, at an awards show: Well, first of all, I’d like to thank Blades, the love of my life, for telling me Heatwave was going to win so don’t bother to prepare a speech.

RB!Rose: Heatwave doesn’t look very happy.

Blades: That's their happy. They're just a bitch.

RB!Rose: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Blades: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

RB!Rose: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Heatwave, on a walkie talkie: This is Heatwave, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

RB!Rose: *is wearing silk pants* How does this look?

Blades: Like its slips on and off really easily.

RB!Rose:

Blades: No, I didn't mean it like that-

Heatwave: We know what you meant.

Heatwave: Ooh, somebody has a crush

RB!Rose: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Blades I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them.

*Later that night*

RB!Rose, very much awake: Uh oh.

Blades: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a.

RB!Rose: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory.

Heatwave: Fuck you.

Heatwave: Something tells me Blades's going to be a bit more unhinged today...

Blades, holding a lit match and a bag of cheetos: Leave me be, RB!Rose isn't home to stop me, I'm going feral.

Blades: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically.

Heatwave: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes.

RB!Rose: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting.

Heatwave: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Heatwave, to RB!Rose: You're starting to forget your Spanish. You don't practice.

RB!Rose: Lo siento. Estoy embarazada.

Heatwave: You just told me you're pregnant.

Blades: Congratulations RB!Rose, you're glowing!

Heatwave: Wow! Blades made you cry?

RB!Rose, tearing up: Yes, and they said some really mean things that are only partly true.

RB!Rose, in a high voice, holding Barbie: Hey, Ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!

Blades, in a deep voice, holding Ken: Nonsense, Barbie. You’re staying home and having my kids.

Heatwave: What the fuck are you guys doing?

RB!Rose: Playing systemic oppression.

#transformers #text #[ ooc post ]#[ incorrect quotes ]#copterbotblades

0 notes

ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

Harsh

~ Paring: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

~ Length: 6.2K

~ Warnings: Smut, pegging, anal play, impact play, bondage, femdom, piv.

It was difficult punishing Hyunjin.

But how could you not when you both enjoyed it so much?

Sometimes you wanted to just lay him back, pamper him, worship every inch of his flesh until he was pink and swollen and jittery all over, and then please him until he cried… until he was all soft and pliant beneath you. You wanted to treat every bit of his supple body with the gentleness he deserved.

But then there were those other times when you both wanted something harsher… equally rewarding and loving, just as intimate, but far more extreme. He usually told you when he wanted it, in his own silent way. He let you know with his gestures; when he wanted it gentle he became quieter, meeker, everytime he asked you for the smallest thing it seemed like a plea. But when he wanted more, more roughness, more pain, more torment, he was a clever little tease. He’d leave little touches that made you long for more, kiss you sensually just when he was about to step out so your lips would feel empty and abandoned. He’d make sure you longed for him, but would set things up at the right time so the scenario couldn’t progress, leaving you increasingly frustrated. He was also sure to flaunt the strength and masculinity in his figure as much as the elegance and femininity. He’d be sure to bare his toned body at every occasion, showing you that he was as strong as he was supple. Lithe, flexible, sexy, pretty… He used his body as that statement, but he also enjoyed how you’d stare and covertly cross your legs. It flattered him. Nothing stroked his ego more than the effect he had on you, even if he based it on his looks - it was his power and he’d use it on you until you went mad.

So while you often treated him with such gentleness, he also wanted you to test him with the harsh hand he knew you withheld.

It was difficult for you though, to find a reason to excuse the whole premise of you treating him as roughly as he wanted you to. He was such a good boy; you wanted to spoil and reward him like he deserved. So how could you think of being mean and cruel to him? But you needed to - because it just felt so good. So you had to take advantage of the smallest things to spin the situation into what you both wanted it to be, even if he didn’t deserve ‘punishment’, you’d punish him as best as you could. You needed to find that energy to rile you up, push you to that mindset. It couldn’t be faked and mindless.

Hyunjin loved everything you gave him. Every way in which you made love to him made his ego soar, he loved the praises as much as the pleasure, but he also loved you using him however you wanted. He wished you were the slightest bit more selfish sometimes, just a little. He wanted you to use him like a toy, he’d let you do whatever you wanted, he was yours entirely. Knowing he was yours, and that you used him as much as how you took care of him was a thought that comforted him. He belonged not just to you, but with you, as you belonged to and with him.

He wanted you to exploit his body, and the way he looked. To be reduced to nothing but an object to be fucked helped him purge the mentality he had regarding his looks. He knew you loved everything within him, blindly, but he trusted you enough that he would beg you to test the other extreme. Reduce him to what he was always reduced to, but on your own terms, for your pleasure. If he was just going to be a pretty thing, he wanted to be your pretty thing.

Sometimes, just sometimes, when you weren’t in control, he’d make sure to give you back everything you gave. But it was difficult for him too, because he knew that you felt more comfortable giving than receiving. You being in charge, as the giver, was about you proving to him how much you loved him, how good you could make him feel, how you could take care of him better than anyone else and therefore were worthy of his love and partnership. It was hard for him to break through to you sometimes, get past your barriers, and give you what you deserved - so he had made it a mission of his to make sure you knew and accepted that it was ok for you to receive as much as it was to give. It was hard, but he tried hard, to make sure you were comfortable and confident enough to receive his love. He wanted to prove himself to you too.

Today was about him proving himself to you, in his own way. He wanted you to use him, he wanted to let you do all kinds of things to his body - it was his way of giving himself and all his trust to you. It wasn’t about giving and receiving pain, it was him saying he trusted you enough to hurt him, because you would never really hurt him. It was about the way he would cry and cling to you afterwards and you’d soothe him back to sanity.

That was his goal, that was what his scheming and flirting had all been leading to. So after days of testing and teasing you, he finally got you where he wanted, and although he was the one currently tied up, you were the one that had fallen into his trap.

It was his idea to hang up a rather large lamp off to the side of the bedroom. A clever way for him to disguise the fact that the hook he installed was sturdy enough to support his entire body weight so that when the right time came about, you’d find him, somehow chained up by his own means.

Like right now, in the nude except for his little black briefs, with his arms pulled up by cuffs and a chain towards the ceiling. A selection of his favorite toys laid out on the bed which he neatly made up. A cat o’ nine tails whip, a vibrator, a wand, a harness with a couple of dildos, a little bottle of lube... Goodness, this man was infuriatingly mischievous and irresistible.

He’s looking at you expectantly, hopeful of the moment when you walk into your room, surprised by the sight of him. But when your eyes meet his, eyelids beginning to droop lustfully, his expression turns into one of smug satisfaction.

You walk up to him and barely rake your nails over his chest, just scraping the tips of his nipples, which you know he loves. You near your face to his as much as you can without touching, feeling his heat and breaths, like you’re prowling over your prey. You like the advantage the shoes you’re wearing give you, now that you're eye to eye with him.

He can feel the tip of your nose almost touch his and he leans in to kiss you but you pull away.

“You didn’t do all this so that I wouldn’t tease you, right?” You purr, “You want me to draw this out, don't you?”

“I want you to do whatever the fuck you want with me.” he growls lowly, a bit too forceful for your liking. You decide to grab his face and squeeze his cheeks toward each other until his lips are puckered.

“That’s not a very nice way to say ‘please’.” You spit back, millimeters away from his face.

He pushes towards you as much as he can and roughly crashes his lips against yours, and it takes a moment for you to process the surprise. The obvious comes back to you; he always acts up as much as he can until you treat him as cruelly as he fancies. So you push him away while still gripping his cheeks, and with your other hand you stroked back his long dark hair until you had a fistfull with which to steer him. He yelped and whimpered, he loved this, and with every little breathy noise he made you felt your cunt throb. You hissed between your teeth, feeling almost feral at how he looked, with his submissive and lustful expression.

“You like this, don't you?” You ask in a quiet voice, and it's somewhere between frustration and cooing.

“Not as much as you do.” Again with that bitchy tone. So this time you remove your hand from his face and take a nipple and pinch it. He whines like a little boy this time, until you let go and he composes himself, going back to acting all tough.

“Turn around.” You demand, as you walk away from him and towards the bed to grab the whip he had laid out. When you face him again, he’s still in the same position; biceps on perfect display as his arms are raised, every muscle in his abdomen marked as he inhales and exhales, his legs slightly parted, long and slender and elegant with his beautiful thighs tense, his erection straining against the piece of black fabric.

“I said: Turn. Around.” and he doesn’t.

You manhandle him by his hips and turn him so he faces the wall, and his posture is still strong and proud with his head high. You can’t help but trace a finger down his spine, inhale his scent at the back of his neck, and place a hot wet kiss there, seting the whip off to the side. You press your body against his and move your hands to roam over his front, tracing every muscle and coming up to circle his nipples. You feel your breasts become delightfully tender when you press them into his shoulder blades, and you curl your back as best as you can to press your pelvis against his perky little bum, and raise one leg to rub against one of his.

“Why can’t you just be a good boy for me, hmm?” You pout… you wish you could just kiss him until he’s pink all over but the method he’s chosen for today takes much more time, patience, and restraint on your end. You can feel him tremble and falter, just a tiny bit. But then he’s back at it, and he gives you a taunting chucke. You tear away from him and grab the whip and flick it harshly against one side of his back, right under his shoulder blade.

He cries out and the noise makes you feel like your body is on fire. So you strike again, on the opposite side. And again, and again, until his back is lined with pink marks and he’s a whimpering mess. Each lash is a blooming line, swelling in the direction of the whip, perfect for you to run your fingers over.

You press into him again, one hand stroking his back, and the other trailing down his front, slipping downward between the muscles of his torso, down to his little waist and over the dip of his bellybutton. Down and down, right to the band of his little undies. You pulled them as far as you could before releasing and letting the band snap back and sting his skin, earring another yelp from him. You proceeded to cup his bulge over the thin fabric, and the texture was soft against his hard cock. You playfully traced your fingers about, relaxing into the crook of his neck and feeling the warmth of his member beneath the pads of your fingers. It’s funny how he was all cocky a moment ago and now he mewls and fidgets like a little animal, it makes you chuckle.

“I can be good now.” He quietly pleads, and it brings a smile to your lips to know that he's finally bending to your will.

“Too late.” You say with a giggle.

You slip each of your index fingers beneath the band of his underwear and slip them around the back to pull them down only to expose his bum. His tiny little cheeks, all toned and perky, were definitely one of your weaknesses. You gently knead them, as much as the firm flesh would allow. His breath becomes shaky every once in a while, in tune with your movements. His shoulders relax and he drops his head, good boy, you think.

You pull away once more and grab the whip again, and you hesitate to mark the milky skin of his cheeks, debating if they're prettier like this or when they are all red and swollen.You whip one of his thighs while you wonder, and he yelps. Just a few should do the trick, you think to yourself, he's not begging yet. So you strike one cheek, then the other.

While he began whining with the occasional yelp, he was now letting out little cries, he sounded like a meowing kitty and he was slashed in pink lines all over, little screams matching each mark

“Please Y/n! Please!” He begins to whine, arms jolting against his restraints.

You turn him around to face you. His forehead is all sweaty with little strands of black hair sticking to his face. His lips were swollen and slick with saliva from him biting on them. His neck and cheeks flushed with a pink tint. His eyes are full of pleasure and submission, his brows furrowed in desperation. You can see your reflection in his dark and beady eyes. You drop the whip and cup his cheeks with your hands lovingly, snuggling your nose against his.

“Why do you have to be so naughty?” you say in a babying voice. He scrunches his nose cutely, sniffling.

“Promise I’ll be good now, I promise!” He says as he tries to lean in and kiss you again.

“Nu-uh.”You push him back by pressing your index finger to the cute fat tip of his nose. “You’re still being bad.” He whines at that, but is cut off as your hands trail down to the sides of his torso, right around the ribs. He’s always so sensitive there, shuddering as your fingers tickle him.

“Please… Y/n, my queen, my mistress.” You roll your eyes at his pleas and reach down to grab the whip again. You strike his side once more, and his knees buckle together as he cries a little “aah” and you smile at how whimperish and high pitched his voice gets. You count six lashes, acros his sides, his thighs, you even let one just barely reach up to whip his bulge and by then he lets a tear slip. Ohhh… that’s definitely another weak spot of yours. His eyes are glossy and teary and beautiful, and when he does cry it’s like a little trail of jewels decorates his beautiful face..

“Please, please, please.” he begs as you hold his cheek and wipe away his tears.

“Please what?” you say playfully, as if unaware of his distress.

“Let me go, let me touch you, give me kisses.” He pouts

“Ohh…” You coo while stroking some messy strands of hair back gently. “What if I don't want to do that now? You said I could do whatever I wanted with you.” He mumbles and whines again.

“No… please!” His voice sounds so boyish now, a different pitch and whiney.

“Convince me.”

“I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“I could do that on my own, just leave you tied up here to watch.” You trail your hand down and cup his crotch again and he hisses, but he’s careful to not grind against your palm unless you tell him to. You’re so tempted to just stop it all and make love to him, but you know playing along with this gets you just where you want, even if it requires more time and patience.

“Please, let me just please you.”

“Listen bunny,” you grab his crotch roughly, testing him, feeling his heavy cock stiffen in your palm. “You’ll do exactly as I say, and maybe I’ll give you what you want. If you play nice, I’ll make sure to use all of those toys on you.” He nods frantically as your words progress.

“I can’t hear you.” You say as your grip on his bulge becomes firmer.

“Yes, my queen.”

You give him a little peck on the tip of his nose as a reward, before you begin tugging on the restraints until they are free from the hook and you can undo the cuffs.

“Take these off and go sit on the bed.” You command as you tidy up and place the restraints and whip off to one side.

You watch him bend over to pull his briefs down and he winces when the fabric brushes over the lash marks on his skin, he winces again when he sits on the edge bed.

You walk up to him and stroke his hair back, looking at him with an apologetic pout since his pretty little bottom must hurt so bad because of you.

“Does your little bum hurt, bunny?” He nods while looking up at you with large eyes. “Mmm.. poor little Jinne. Keep it up and I’ll make you feel good, bunny.” You appreciate the view of his now exposed cock, completely stiff and leaking, proudly pressed against his hard abdomen.

“Yes Y/n.” He says politely, while nodding his head excitedly, but keeping the sad and teary expression that he knows makes him look so pretty.

“Take my shirt off.” You command, and he begins to undo the buttons on your blouse slowly, as you step out of your shoes so that you can bring yourself closer to him. He slowly peels your shirt back, lovingly stroking your arms as he slips it off, then looks at you expectantly.

“Now my pants.” He undid the belt, and button, and zipper, loosening the tighter waist and guiding them past your hips, after which they freely fell from your legs onto the floor. Hyunjin left his large hands on your hips.

“Panties and bra, off.” You state, and he slips his hands to slide your underwear off, then up to undo your bralette from its latch at the front. Your breasts are exposed in their natural position once he undoes the clasp, and he timidly peels it off of your shoulders and past your arms. You’re both in the nude now, and you continue to look down at him, admiring how timid and small he seems like this. He can't help but stare at every part of recently exposed flesh, and when he realizes that you’re staring down at him, he shyly looks down at his own lap.

You pull his face up by the chin, and his eyes are leveled with your breasts. “Suck.” You simply instruct.

He sticks his tongue out, timidly at first, and delicately licks one nipple. The little gasp you let out encourages him, so he continues more decidedly, now swirling his tongue against the entire areola. His tongue feels so wet and warm and slick, but the trail of saliva makes you cold and shiver until his hot breath warms it over. When his lips close over your breast to suck, his mouth engulfs your flesh and sucks until it’s pleasingly numb and tender, and you tug his other arm up so he can massage the other breast. You circle his head with one arm and drape the other over his shoulder, pressing him further against your chest in a sort of hug. He circles his other arm around you too.

You feel so engulfed by his warmth, but the wetness between your folds stings with coolness as it's exposed to the air after you arch your figure. You pull hyunjin by his hair and he whimpers while you pull his mouth over to your other breast. You dont let go and continue tugging until you finally pull him back all the way and free yourself from his arms. His mouth and chin glisten with his own spit, and his mouth hangs open as he catches his breath. That pretty shiny tongue of his is practically hanging out of his mouth.

“What do you want me to do, my queen?” He asks breathlessly.

“I want you to put my harness on me, with the pink dildo.” His eyes widen and he practically throws himself over to reach the items on the other side of the bed. He fumbles a bit, but he detangles the straps on the harness and lowers down to the floor so you can step over them. He’s diligent in bringing it all up to where it should be, locking the dildo in place, tightening the belts so each strap is properly snug. Once he's done he sits back on the bed.

“Open your mouth, and don’t move.” You instruct. Hyunjin half expects you to shove the dildo into his mouth, but you’ve never been much of a fan of that. Instead you grip his hair to tilt his head back, and you admire his shiny lips and glistening tongue, his cute upper teeth peaking out that make him look like a bunny. You slowly lower yourself and suck on his lower lip, then insert your tongue in his mouth and swirl it around his own. You pry his mouth open just a little more and coax his tongue out so you can suck on it and he lets out a moan that he cuts off mid way. You savor his open mouth, raking your nails through his scalp, and he sighs into the kiss. Still, he remains frozen. You pull away and when a string of saliva still connects the two of you you lean in to suck it off of his bottom lip before smiling down at him.

“Good boy.” You boop his nose.

You harshly grab his shoulders and push him onto the bed, taking him by surprise. You crawl over him, straddling his waist, your cunt landing firm on his dick, trapping it between your folds and his pelvis. It feels so hard and hot and slick covered in your fluids. He’s trying his best to not move, not make a sound.

“You know I like hearing your little noises, you can be loud.” You purr into his ear as you begin to slide over his cock, teasing him with folds while you hold the dildo to the side as best as you can so you can see the tip of his cock peek out whenever you slide back. It’s addictive as you glide over him, feeling every ridge in his member stimulating your folds. It’s too tempting - almost too tempting. He lets out a low moan and you bounce your hips against him, making him mewl. You like how he looks now, splayed beneath you, his hair strewn back, his swollen lips parted, his arms and hands obediently at his sides, and his toned tummy shaky as each of his breath hitch. His pathetic leaking cock beside the one you’ll fuck him with.

He’s irresistible.

You hop off of him and manhandle him, admiring the shape of his waist and hips as you place your hands there to turn him until he’s on all fours and you're kneeling behind him. Oh, his pretty little reddened bottom is stuck up in the air, and in this position you could see his pretty pink hole and the little shimmer of the fluid coming from it. You lean down into his ear while your hand roams over his back and the curve of his bum.

“Oh bunny, were you preparing yourself for me?” You whisper into his ear with a mischievous smile, and as you say so, you slice your middle finger between his cheeks to circle around his hole and press over it experimentally.

“Yes, my queen, I used lube and everything. A plug too just before you got here.” He pants out, forehead now pressed into the mattress so you can have better access to his ass. You admire his profile from here, his smooth forehead and masculine brow, the pretty curve of his nose and the cute tip, plump lips, curved chin, the beautiful jawline. You absentmindedly slipped your middle finger into his ass, and had it not been for the whine he let out you almost wouldn't have noticed that your finger was buried up to the knuckle in his warm, supple and slickened flesh.

The ring of muscles around his hole wasn’t too tight, and you debated if you should just split him open with your dildo without so much preamble. You’d imagine how nicely he’d cry if you did that… after all, he did lead you on to treat him harshly today.

Without a second thought, you slipped your finger out of him, despite his complaining mumbles, and quickly grabbed the bottle of lube that you liberally rubbed on your cock. You dropped a fair amount right onto his hole as well, enjoying the imagery of his dripping ass and perky cheeks, the fluids dripping from him as if he’d been creaming himself. Once you were behind him you made sure to grip his butocks, spreading them apart playfully, perfore giving him a few spanks that he cried out for. Poor little bunny, with his milky skin painted in so many shades of red. Must sting so bad.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard bunny, ok? You good?”

“Yes, yes! Yes!” He nodded desperately, but voice muffled into the pillow he’d just grabbed. You felt butterflies in your stomach just at the thought of all the noises he’d make, and you were warm and tingling with anticipation all over.

You made sure the head of the dildo fit in well, and as soon as you knew he could take its girth you slammed in and he screamed. You made sure to press your hips in all the way and roll them against his ass, before you began thrusting in and out and in and out and Hyunjin cried pathetically into his pillow while gripping the sheets.

Hyunjin feels the hot drag of your cock past his tight hole, and how it pokes his softer insides until you slide and press against that sweet spot that makes his toes curl and the tip of his cock tingle. He wants more, but he feels like he’ll burst, like he’s stretched to his limit, like something is going to rip out of his body. His arms and legs burn, his little ass throbs and clenches.

“Too much!” He cried as his voice jolted with every thrust, and you halted.

“Oh, really? Want me to stop, bunny?” You knew he liked to complain and whine, it was part of his game to encourage you to be rougher.

“NO!” He screamed, and you pushed his head and shoulders down as best as you could then grabbed his hips to continue thrusting into him, hearing those amazing wet noises, seeing his ass swallow your cock, shivering every time his cries reached your ears. And the pitch of his cries became louder, mixed with incoherent words and babbles. Every version of your name he’d ever given you, every title to affirm your dominance, please for more, harder. And that’s what you gave them until you felt him jolt violently beneath you and squirm in your hold. He had come, untouched, onto the bed.

His anus hugged your cock as you slid in and out of him, dragging along outward and being pushed inward as the gloss came from his ass. He was quivering now, quivering just enough. If only you could see how the fluids had been trickling out of his little slit.

You pulled out of him with a pop and admired his tiny gaping hole and leaned over to see the five or so droplets of his cum on the bed. Cute, you thought to yourself, at how he’d orgasmed after only a couple of minutes. You raise his hips up again and thrust back into him, penetrating the tiny stretched ring once more, but you grab his hair and snake your arm around his neck so that he’s practically sitting on your cock, his weight forcing the dildo all the way up his ass. You thrust upwards into him, but from this angle he can bounce himself just as easily.

“Fuck yourself bunny, fuck yourself with my cock.” You tell him as your arms move to pinch his nipples and tickle all over his torso until finally, finally, you grab his throbbing cock that he had so obediently left untouched.

“Waaah!” He cries out and it's almost an unreal noise. You stroke it a few times and love the weight of it in your hand, but it's hard to focus on everything Hyunjin is doing at once - he overwhelms your senses. You feel his body against yours, his back rubbing against your breasts, his cock in your hand. You hear every noise from his mouth, his hips slapping against yours, the wet noises of his sticky cock in your hand. The smell of his skin, of his sex, of the shampoo in his hair. Everything is just too much and you feel your cunt desperate for him, inside of you, filling you with his flesh and fluids. Maybe you should make him as desperate as you are.

So you let go of his cock and he keeps bouncing on the dildo, dropping almost all of his weight on your hips and thighs before lifting himself back up. His big cock flops around pathetically, occasionally slapping against his abs and he thrusts well enough that it keeps happening because he’s just desperate to compensate for the absence of your touch. It bounces around like some miserable flopping toy. Your hands rest at his waist, following his movements, and you close your eyes as you press your face against his back, occasionally pecking and licking the skin there.

“Fuck yourself harder bunny!” You demand roughly, and he does, so you enjoy his little attempts at getting himself off.

That is, until Hyunjin’s hand begins to grasp around until he reaches yours, brings it over to his front and laces his fingers with yours. It makes it feel as if everything had just slowed down because he broke the dynamic with this tenderness. You can’t torture him anymore… your heart swells too much.

So you help him, moving to meet his own thrusts, reaching deeper and imagining how wonderfully supple and tender he must feel that deep into his body. Imagining the tip of your cock pleasuring itself with the tiny wet hole in his pretty ass, it hurting him only to please you. You wrap your other hand on his cock once more, and jerk him off as well as your focus allows you to.

He can’t hold his weight up anymore and practically sits against your pelvis as you roll yourself into his ass, putting most of your effort on his cock now. He comes again, grasping your hand with both of his, falling backwards against your body. His fluids coat your hand, and you wipe them off on his abdomen as well as possible. You kiss his shoulder, sush him, calm him down and maneuver him onto his side, laying him gently.

It almost breaks your heart to pull out of him, but you’re pleased with the sight of his gaping hole, the rim circular and neat, showing the little wet blackness within. He lays on his side completely spent, his limbs gone all soft, and the curve of his side forming a nice dip from his shoulders, to his waist and his hip.

But you’re far from done.

You rush to pull the harness off of your body and roll Hyunjin over onto his back. He’s a mess. You hadn’t seen his face yet. His lashes sparkled with little droplets, and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat and tears. His hair was a mess, his abdomen and cock were covered in a layer of his semen. His form was like a putty and he was completely fucked out. His eyes seemed far away, but they latched onto yours even in his exhaustion.

But you still needed him. So you began to stroke his cock before it completely lost its hardness, and slipped him inside of you as soon as you could. He was too tired to cry out, so he just silently whined and whimpered.

Fuck! You weren’t streched out enough to take him, and he almost didnt go in, but it hurt so fucking good. You were dripping for him, and the soreness from him splitting you from the inside out soon turned into a pleasant rub and pressure as you gradually bounced on him, his erection recovering. You rode him as best as you could, and Hyunjin slowly came back to his senses.

“Thank you, thank you…” He managed to say between moans and cries of your name. You leaned down onto him, resting your weight on your elbows as you gripped his hair.

“Touch me!” You screamed out between moans, and even in his tired state, he managed to find your clit with his thumb as you rolled your hips on his. “You’re gonna be a good boy and take it until I cum.”

You clenched around him so hard, he swore his cock would burst from the pressure, and he spilled inside of you with a pathetic cry. But you kept going as much as you could, and he began to shake so hard you had to wrap him in your arms to steady him. Yet you kept riding him, feeling that desperate momentum where your cunt just wants to suck in more of his cock, feel it hit the walls within you with more force.

He cries in your ear, please and moans and versions of your name until you came and finally removed yourself from his suffering penis.

You felt horribly incomplete without him inside of you but he was all spent out and exhausted. In your haze, you hug him and rest your head against his. You wipe and kiss his tears away, you pet his head, you hum to him.

“That’s it my precious baby boy, you did so well baby.” You praise him and he slowly smiles and finds the strength to open his eyes and meet yours. He’s full of pride from your compliments, smiling weakly, making his reddened and wet face even prettier.

“I love you.” He mumbles it out and the words jumble together, but it was definitely an ‘I love you’. You peck his lips and keep on petting and praising him, lulling him into tranquility. But you don't let him fall asleep on you, as much as you’d like for that to happen. You manage to get up and pull him with you even though both of you have numb and weak legs and you can hardly stand. You drag him off into the bathroom and begin to fill the tub with hot water.

As it does, you turn to him, see his puffy eyes and swollen lips, and begin to brush out the knots in his hair. Then you pull him into the water, and lay him between your legs. You caress each of the marks you’ve left on his skin with touches and kisses, you wash every bit of him as gently as you can, you lather and rinse his hair, making sure his skin doesn’t sting as you do.

“I love you so much.” He says with a voice that’s hoarse from screaming, as he turns to meet you face forward in the bath, resting his head on your body, causing his wet hair to stick to your skin.

“I love you too, my Jinnie.” You lean in to kiss his abused lips slowly and sensually. “Do you feel ok my little prince?” You say as you nudge your nose against his.

“You fucked me so good…” he hums, and wraps you in his arms so you both twist around each other. “Did I make you feel good?” He asks with big, innocent, eyes.

“Of course Jinnie.” Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. “Always. You always make me feel good, you make me feel loved,” He smiles more with every compliment, as if the tiredness slipped away from his features. “And you feel like home. I’ll always give you whatever you want, Jinnie.”

“You’re too much,.” his eyes get teary and his lip trembles. “I’m too lucky.”

“Nu-uh… you deserve everything.” Kiss.

Eventually you pull him out of the water before the two of you get too lazy to move, and after he helps wash you in return. You dress him in his coziest pajamas, while keeping yourself in a fresh set of underwear.

And then you laid him down in bed and covered him in soft, fresh blankets, before laying next to him and letting him curl into your side. You kissed his forehead and petted him as best you could until you both fell asleep, reminding yourself how amazing the world was for pairing you with the pretty man in your arms.

#Hyunjin smut #straykidsland #stray kids smut #skz smut #sub!skz #sub!idol #sub!hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin

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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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whiskehorange · 3 years

Note

Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you but I’ve been feeling down lately and I really enjoy reading ur blog. Is it ok if you do Jason, micheal, bubba Thomas, Brahms ,pyramid head, asa and Harry warden if possible with an S/O who’s usually happy and willing and all of a sudden she breaks down one day bawling on the couch or something and she didn’t know they were there, not wanting to make them upset or sad? Sorry if it’s really sad, I just need a lil love, I love u and ur blog! Thank you! Take your time and drinks lots of water!

Jason

Uhm, excuse me bitch what in the fuck is going on? You gave you the right to scare the shit out of Jason like that?

When he first came home the weeping made him freeze. He was positive it wasn’t you, he had never even seen you frown before so this absolutely cannot be your crying. Yet, as he walked in to see you whip around, tears streaming down your face as you look at him in pure shock you almost send him falling backwards

He doesn’t even care what made you cry of feel this way he’s going to be up your ass the entire day. Coddling, kissing, rubbing, and doing any and all for of comforting that he knows how to do

Jason absolutely hates seeing you cry, especially as hard as you did. You’re more than welcome to talk to him about it for as long as you want whenever you want and all he will do is listen and comfort you

Jason is a very physically affectionate man, even though he is a bit hesitant at first, so when you feel yourself in a time like this, you bess’ believe that he’s going to be around you 24/7. Even a few days after that, he needs to be your therapist (which he’s real good at)

Michael

You won’t be able to see it, but Michael is panicking and sweating bullets underneath that mask. It’s an immediate fight or fight response

Michael, overall, isn’t too good with handling other peoples emotions, so don’t be surprised when he doesn’t come to you right away for any sort of comfort in those "typically ways"

Hugging, coddling, cuddling, and any typeof caressing is going to come later in the day when things have begun to quiet down. Not only is he completely unused to having to comfort you in anyway like this, but he's pretty pissed at whatever made you come to this point

The main thing Michael wants you to do is to talk to him, tell him what's wrong so that he knows just how to handle the situation: either to kill or to... not know what to do

It's very safe to say that he will get better with knowing how to comfort you if this does ever happen again, which he really hopes it won't.

Bubba

There is a lot that can make Bubba cry, at this is one of the times he wasn't expecting to. Everyday, no matter how hard it was for him, he knew he could count on your cheery face to great him when he comes running back inside

His first reaction is to panic; he's never been put in this sort of situation before with you and he really doesn't know how to approach you. He sort of just sits awkwardly next to you and whines

Comfort does eventually find your way with pets and hugs, there aren't really any verbal affirmations he can give you, but for what he lacks in communication he can make up with physical affection one way or another

A downside to Bubba, however, is that he almost has an out-of-sight-out-of-mind personality realistically. So don't get too upset if when you have some space from him that same day that he'll sort of forget you've been upset

In that case, be prepared for the exact same meltdown when he figures out how upset you've been for the second time

Thomas

Thomas' defense mode in immediately activated. Never would he have thought that he would have to be on the comforting side so you'll have to give him a minute, but it really isn't even that long

He's gentle and patient, he knows what its like to feel such extreme motions and most of all that they are pretty hard to get out, so take your time and he'll be here with you until you're back up on your feet. Literally

To say you scared him would be an understatement, but he pushes that aside to genuinely make sure that you are not physically hurt, because if that was the case whoever did it should be the one scared

Instead, Thomas has somewhere quiet for you to go with him, the least he would want is for Hoyt to complain about such "loud" crying in the house. It's better for him to give out physically comforting, too!

His go to's are hugs and petting/caressing, it's what he would want. It's comforting to say the least, but the fact that you can't even breath right doesn't go down well when he's crushing your spinal cord in a bear hug

Braham

However oblivious, he's oddly able to tell that you're acting different before you even get the chance to melt down. From all of the time spent watching you from within the walls, you can say that he knows you like the back of his hand

Brahms has absolutely no clue how to address you. Of course he's fended for himself for a long time but any sort of emotional help is foreign to him

He'll come around, of course, the moment that you do breakdown he's by your side and he's ready to do just about anything you tell him to do but he's on edge

However, the sort of comfort you will get from him will be physical, it's the best way he can quickly show any form of care for you that he thinks will work. Brahms absolutely hates seeing you this way because he want to be able to fix the problem and he just doesn't know how

He insists that you tell him whats wrong as he holds you, curled up, in his lap. Gently caressing your head and face as he listens to your soft cries and explanation. It's the best he can do for you and he knows that that he'll have to pay close attention to when you baby him next, that way he's prepared for whenever this might happen next

Pyramid Head

What the fuck even? Pyramid Head isn't going to catch on too soon, but the moment he hears your cries from anywhere he is by your side immediately

He hates it the most out everyone on this list, and I mean that heavily. Not only does he go on rampages because he doesn't know what's wrong, but it pisses him off to no end that he doesn't know how to handle it

Pyramid Head wants so bad to be able to comfort you and understand what's made you this upset that he can come across as a little overbearing, but mainly clingy. He doesn't leave your side well after you've stopped crying and makes sure to keep an eye on you from now on so that he can possibly be there before this happens again

While he isn't able to properly communicate to you, a lot of his body language displays signs of uncomforted alongside you. Just about any emotion you feel he absorbs and feels it right with you, mainly because its his way of showing you that you're not alone and he's here to spend this time with you

Just please don't ever do that again it's so stressful he likes seeing you bubbly not sad omfg-

Asa

Asa is the most unreadable, really. He's able to keep his composure the entire time as you bawl your eyes out before him, but inside he's shaking up a little. He doesn't like seeing you upset whens it's not for play of course, so it comes as a bit of a surprise for even him

He's a little hesitant to comfort you because he is surprised, but is also just one of the most distant when it comes to comfort in this way, While being used to your much brighter personality, eventually he'll get better at it for for the time being, you don't have to deal with much of him

There is some physical reassurance, so you're not completely neglected, but Asa does have other things to do. He gently takes you in his arms and leads you up to the bedroom where he lays you down, caressing your head and covering you up

He'll leave to get you water or a drink and some other small things like your phone or a small snack if you haven't eaten, but mostly your phone so that you can call or text him if you need him. From there he'll shut the lights iff and let you get a bit of sleep

Asa stays in the house and cancels any outside plans for the day and makes sure that his phone's ringer is on at all times. By the time you call him for something he'll be up to your room before the ringtone even ends

Harry

Harry is most definitely clueless and will feel like he's going to cry right alongside you. Harry is not good at handling his own emotions let alone yours

He adored being around your bright and shining face everyday, it was something that could regulate his own and he clung to you like a moth to a lamp. So, you can only image the confusion and terror Harry experiences when he comes home to you the complete opposite

It's a very frantic sort of comfort that he gives you, moving from one thing to another to try to figure out what's wrong and what do to. It's really almost as if Harry feels your emotions stronger than you do, but he wants to do everything in his power to fix you

He comes home extra aware in the future, always prepared to be there by your side in hopes to deal with your feelings better, but he still doesn't like it at all. He goes out of his way to do more things around the house of for you in general to lessen up any stress, even if there was none in the first place

#jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #pyramid head x reader #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #harry warden x reader #slasher x reader

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scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

#mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut #hanta sero #sero #sero smut #hanta sero smut #sero x reader #sero x y/n #hanta x y/n #hanta x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #smutober #kinktober 2021

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

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