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#either way he’s dead now clink clink bitch!!!

lovejosephquinn · 1 year

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Okay so someone requested sub!Joe x reader and the way she'd want to make him basically cry fucking him and the damn ask disappeared after I tried to post it, so I've had to write as a normal post. Here you go anon, if you see this I hope this fulfils your fantasies 👀💀🖤

Also tagging @harrys-four-nipples especially at request because she rose from the dead especially for this shit

It's sincerely difficult when you're attracted to your best friend and live in the same flat together and the feeling is mutual, yet neither of you are wanting to go that step further and tell each you're actually into one another. The time you spent together was no more than fun and when and if you went back home together empty handed without a one night stand after your infamous tradition of pub Friday; you'd use each other as a way to hook up and take the sexual frustration out. It'd always end in Joe dominating you, choking you tight whilst he fucked his cock into your cunt, bringing you to tears the way his length would rail you in his bed. You're not sure how this started, nor bothered by the way it did, because it was always the best damn sex either of you ever had.

This one particular night saw you not entirely phased on looking for 'victims' to take back to your flat, rather eyes on each other, clinking your pints together and settling on a deal. "You sure you're not bothered?" Joe muttered.

"About what?" you replied.

"Bringing a man home so he can barely make you cum."

"Oh shut up, guys make me-"

"Not like I do." Joe winked.

You rolled your eyes at him, he looked like the cockiest son of a bitch ever, he personally knew this because you told him once when his head was between your legs, crying out that no man had ever made you cum during foreplay, Joe knew it was true just purely by the face you'd make the next morning, grimacing with a quick thumbs down as he smirked at you from the kitchen whilst you saw the man in question out of the front door.

You completely ignored his smug features and continued. "Deal is, whoever downs this pint fastest, gets to dominate the other tonight."

"So we are hooking up tonight." Joe sat back in his chair, fist batting the air.

"You ready Quinn?"

"Ready." You gulped your pint down, Joe didn't bother, he just sat and watched you. You set your glass down onto the table, your eyes flitted between his and the still full pint glass his hand was barely clutching onto.

"Did you hear me right?" You looked in a confused state.

"I did."

"So you want me to dominate?"

"I want to see what you can do Y/N, I want you to fucking defile me."

Your breath hitched, no matter what, Joe was always the dominant one and now he was challenging you from your own deal? Fuck.

"Challenge accepted Joseph." Joe nodded at you, downing his drink minutes after you had and stood up to go replenish your glasses with more alcohol.

Several drinks later, you stumbled the short distance from your local pub and back to your flat, unlocking the door Joe almost fell through losing his balance making you giggle at him. "Come here." Joe uttered, grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him barely seconds after you'd locked the door behind you.

You pulled yourself away from his clutch, making him furrow his brow. Turning round to face him, you pushed his chest forcefully, making him take a few steps back. "I believe we agreed on me dominating you, Mr Quinn." Joe raised his hands in defeat as a gesture of saying do your worst.

You walked off in front of him into his bedroom, Joe followed up behind you like a lost puppy and you quickly made haste at grabbing his hips and pushing him back into the wall. Leaning up onto your tip toes, you crashed your lips onto his, teeth clashing, tongues dancing and your mouths fiercely moving together in unison. You grabbed at his crotch, palming it effectively, making him groan when you added pressure onto your grip. "Now listen to me." You bit down onto his lip, his eyes growing not realising your strength as you held his arm up to the side. "You're going to be a good fucking boy and you're going to lay there and take everything I'm going to give, okay?"

Joe smirked at the way you spoke, you don't know why you did it, but your hand left his now fully erect bulge and lightly slapped him across his cheek. "Okay?" Joe's face fell and nodded at you. "I'm going to be your good boy." Joe replied, falling straight into a submissive state.

You dragged him over to his bed and pushed him down to sit, straddling his waist you unbuttoned his shirt slowly, licking your lips when you saw his delectable chest in the flesh, instantly attacking his neck first, you have his head falling back whimpering sinking your teeth into the thickness of it. "Oh fuck, Y/N." He let out a wild moan when your clothed cunt pressed down against his cock, dry humping him, the zipper flicking against your clit every now and then making you whine. "Yeah you like that?" Joe let out a small mhm, his head falling onto your shoulder when your hips writhed harder.

You pushed him back so he was fully laid down, legs dangling off the edge, pressing down onto his stomach so you could move faster, the wetness of your panties becoming more prominent. You slid off to the side of him, undressing yourself, his eyes watching your every move, chest leaping into the air and back down again, eager to find out where you were going with this.

You fell to your knees, leaning forward to unbutton his trousers, Joe lifted his hips so you could remove them as quickly as you intended too, taking his boxers down with him so he lay completely naked before you. "What's that look for?" Joe questioned, the way you gazed at his cock maliciously had him fearing for whatever you had planned, Joe had never seen you this worked up, you were ready to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You creeped up onto the bed, mounting him completely, he looked down watching the way your tits hung from your chest, huffing a sigh trying to figure out whether it was best or not he kept his hands to himself. "Don't even think about it." You took a hand to his cheeks, clenching them together and bringing his eyes right back up to you. "Wasn't about to." You hovered your face downward so your lips fell against his ear. "Good boy." He shivered at your breath as you spoke out running through him, his cock twitching lightly at the way you praised him, he weirdly was enjoying this more than he thought.

You couldn't help the way your tongue slid from his bottom lip down his jaw, down his neck, his chest, nibbling at his stomach, down his happy trail and stopping right where the tip of his cock laid. Intentionally blowing on it made him grip the sheets, Joe laid staring at the ceiling trying to stop himself from cumming just from the way you teased.

"Please." It was becoming apparent that Joe didn't particularly enjoy being in the submissive side of things in the respect that he had to wait to be given what he needed. "Please what?"

"Please suck my cock love."

"Good boy's don't beg, they wait." You moved so you were kneeling in the same spot you were when Joe took his trousers down, leaning up so you had a hefty space of reaching for him, you lowered your mouth down, tonguing at his balls, the sudden contact making him squirm. "Oh fuck yes." Joe growled. Your mouth took a suck of each side, letting them fall back gracefully as you nibbled onto his sack, covering every inch of it with your teeth. "Shit Y/N, that feels so good."

Your tongue proceeded to work it's way upward, the tip of your muscle dancing straight up his length, your hand now massaging his balls, gripping them every now and then tighter just to see him grimace. "You want it?" you asked nicely, pointing to your mouth.

"But you said-"

"I said. Do. You. Want. It."

"Yes."

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, slurping on it heavily, washing your tongue over the tip, the saltiness of the leakage he'd already presented coating it as you hummed a moan. "You taste so good." Joe groaned at that, he'd told you once in the early days of you hooking up that he found nothing sexier than communicating and from then on in you made you sure you spoke plenty, it was always the last thing he needed to hear before he usually came where he wanted. Joe's hands suddenly came over the back of your head and you swatted your eyes to him immediately, slowly shaking your head, his hands stopping in mid-air once they'd raised back up and going back to their previous position, resting above his head.

You took about half of his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as slowly as you could manage, you wanted to fuck your mouth with his cock so bad, but all in good time. You stroked your tongue along with the movement, your hand moving up to jerk the base of his cock at a steady pace. Your cunt was dripping at the way he moaned your name, desperate for this to go on yet craving so bad for him to be inside of you; you'd keep these thoughts to yourself.

Your eyes rose to look over his features, his lips parted, hips shaking, eager to buck up into you but he refrained from doing so, quite rightly understanding that you were in full control. You loathed this moment, drank every second in watching him submit to you. So you decided to reward him, taking your hand away and taking almost every inch of his thick cock, reaching the depths of your throat and choking down on it. His hips did buck up once but you let that go, too busy concentrating on trying not to regurgitate with your shitty gag reflex. "Y/N, stop, you're going to make me cum." You brought your head back up but immediately slammed his shaft back down your throat again, repeating the process a few more times. His seed accidentally spewed down your throat in a hot minute, his moans borderline pornographic in their wake, you drank the lot and he knew he was in for a spot of bother once you came up for air.

You immediately straddled back onto his waist, your small hand covering what you could of his neck, your fingers pushing inward to grip his at his throat, making him jump slightly, it was safe to assume he wasn't expecting that. "Did I say you could cum?"

"No, I'm sorry I tried to say-"

You moved yourself up so you were sat on his stomach, arching your hand back and immediately began fisting at his cock, jerking wildly making sure that he kept his erection. "You listen to me and you listen good." Joe nodded apprehensively. "I'm going to fucking ride you senseless and you'd better not cum until I say so, got it?"

Joe moaned at the sensitivity and friction that your hand gave his shaft, nodding motionlessly this time, his eyes sparkling at yours apologetically. "Yes."

"Won't believe you until you prove it now, you've been a naughty boy." You moved yourself back, rubbing your cunt over his length and his immediate response was to sit up, he tried to kiss you but you just pushed him back down with all your might. "Stay the fuck down."

You positioned his cock upward, hovering above it and slowly sank downward burying it inside of you. Your walls clenched around his thickness, your head fell back in a state of moans when you felt him stretch you slightly, you'd never get tired of the way he felt and you'd never get tired of the way he made you feel. Fuck you had it bad.

Once fully adjusted. You slowly moved your hips, riding him even too agonisingly unrushed for you, leaning downward you brushed his lips with yours, your foreheads pressing together as you worked him. "I fucking love the way my cock fills your pussy love, feels too good." You bit down onto his bottom lip, pulling it back, your grip had it stinging and then you let go. Catching him off guard, you sat back up, picking up his hands and placing them onto your hips. "Move me, make me cum now." You demanded.

Joe knew the way to do it and he knew exactly the way you liked to be fucked, he was practically an expert in this field, he raised you up and down, bouncing your cunt up to the tip and then slamming you back down again forcefully, you were both hot messes for one another, the way his cock degraded your hole made the knot in your stomach tighten, your cunt dripping your juices downward and leaving a mess on his balls. "Keep doing that, harder." You protested and he answered straight away, his hips bucking upward to meet your bounces, he cried out your name countless amounts. You pushed his hands off of you and thrusted your hips back and fourth, pressing down onto his chest for leverage.

"You fuck my cock so well, you don't know what you do to me Y/N, oh my-" You stopped. He was falling into his pit of doom once more, so close to his orgasm. "No, don't stop-"

"Not until I say." You warned him. Fastening up the pace once more, you leaned downward, putting your weight onto the top half of his body, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and rocked yourself up and down his cock, the both of you throbbing, sweating and whimpering for your releases.

"Please Y/N, I've been a good boy, please let me cum. I need to cum, baby, let your cunt milk me." Well he'd never called you baby before, shit.

That threw you over the edge, your face fell into the crook of his neck as your orgasm hit you from head to toe, tightening your grip, your walls now caging his length inside of you so it couldn't move, your thighs shuddered at the twitches coming directly from your clit, you were so turned on and it was a long awaited climax, so you deserved to relish in the moment.

You moved your body back, taking his cock with you, lifting yourself onto your feet but kneeling, you bounced freely on top of him, Joe had tears in his eyes from the release he was holding in deep down. "You want to cum Joe?"

"Please. Please- I-I c-can't t-take i-it." That was your key to give him the go ahead, you'd let him suffer long enough.

"Cum for me." Joe gave way as soon as you said it, a gasp for air had his head startling upward, his eyes squeezing shut as he choked out the lengthiest and unholy moan you'd ever heard escape him.

You didn't speak a word whilst you got cleaned up, you returned back to Joe's room who was now grasping at the covers to just lift himself up to climb into bed. "I've been thinking-"

"A dangerous thing to do." You interrupted, making him pout.

"I'm going to let you dominate more often because that was fucking hot." You did a little victory jig, earning a laugh from Joe.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it and made the decision to let me. Goodnight Joe." You turned to walk away with a hefty sigh, your heart filled full with confusion about your feelings that had grown in the last couple of hours, even more achier than usual, but the sudden call of your name had you turn right back around.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we just, I mean I know I never ask this of you, but can we just cuddle tonight?" Your jaw almost dropped to the floor, sure you and Joe had the odd cuddle here and there; but never after sex.

You moved round to the other side of the bed and Joe opened up the sheets for you to get in next to him. You turned to your side and he wrapped his arm over you. Silence fell once more for at least a good 10 minutes, you were almost falling asleep and thought you'd misheard Joe when he nuzzled his face into your hair and whispered. "Fuck, I love you." It didn't feel like the way a friend would say it, the butterflies wouldn't have fluttering their way round your stomach if it was just a friend thing. He meant it exactly the way you thought and he wasn't sure whether or not he meant for you to hear it either but he was very much in love with you.

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

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In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 28: The Pot Boils Over

Warnings:” strong language, sexual themes

Summar: Juniper finally comes clean to Heisenberg…

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Their interactions for the following days didn’t fare better. Juniper was touchy and moody, almost bursting into tears at some of Heisenberg’s comments. He was at a loss, used to her being a bantering partner.

She’d started avoiding the workshop, from a mixture of the smell and her recent lack of patience for his joking. At night Heisenberg would frequently hear her crying softly when she thought he’d fallen asleep or while she hid away in the bathroom.

It broke his heart.

He knew she was suffering, but wouldn’t talk to him. When he would attempt to get answers from her it seemed to push her father away.

So he started focusing on work more, spending more time away from the apartment.

His worry worked its way into a sharp blade, slicing into him when his mind would wander.

Was it his fault? It must be. That’s why she wouldn’t speak to him…

The thought swam darkly around his brain.

How did he fuck up?

The worry was blanketed with anger and annoyance, his usual response to hard to process emotions. He knew what being angry felt like, it was normal. It was easier to handle, he thought.

But it made him simmer like a kettle, ready to boil over every second. The deeper he sunk into worry and self-loathing without any type of answers, the higher the heat rose on the kettle.

After their most recent spout, it finally did boil over…

Heisenberg sat reading at the table, smoking a cigar quietly. Juniper bruised herself with cleaning up the dishes after their most recent meal. The smoke hit her face, making her wrinkle her nose. For some odd reason it sent a sharp bolt of annoyance through her.

“Do you have to do that?” She grumbled as she wiped down the table with a damp rag.

“What??” Heisenberg looked up sharply, confused.

“Smoke at the table while I’m cleaning.”

“And? It never bothered you before.”

“It’s bothering me now!” She snapped.

Heisenberg dropped the cigar in the ashtray, fixing her with a narrow gaze. “Just deciding to be a complete bitch to me or does it just come naturally?” He barked, leaning back in the chair.

“Excuse me?” Juniper threw down the rag, turning to meet his gaze.

They stared down at each other for a long, tense moment. Juniper was the first to break, looking away with glassy eyes.

“You are such an asshole.” She began to walk away, hiding her face.

“Me?” Heisenberg stood, anger rising, “You’ve been treating me like shit.” He went after her, grabbing her wrist in a strong hold. Juniper stopped dead but didn’t look back at him.

“Why have you been acting so damn weird?”Heisenberg asked, his brows knotting together. His voice was rough and accusing.

“Getting all buddy-buddy with Donna?” He walked towards her, “Being quiet as hell around me? Acting like I’m going to bite, what’s going on?”

Juniper’s shoulders shook a bit, refusing to turn toward him. He didn’t take the silence well, grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him.

“Juniper, fucking talk to me!” He almost begged, “If I fucked up just tell me.”

He saw tears start to fall from her eyes, her lips trembling. Heisenberg heard the cups and plates in the cabinets begin to shake and clink together.

He took a breath, trying to calm his voice a bit, realizing she was much more distressed then she was letting on.

“Buttercup?” He wiped a tear away, “What did I do?”

Juniper pushed him away a bit, “W-we messed up Karl.” On the chairs fell away from the table with a loud clatter, papers swirled around them.

Confusion clouded his eyes.

“K-Karl,” she stammered through tears, “I’m pregnant!”

His grip fell from her, his face losing color. In the wake of his silence she started to blurt everything out.

“I've been asking Donna to teach me how to sew and make clothes so I c-could maybe make things later.” Her hands covered her face, “And I've been trying to c-collect things that wouldn’t be suspicious.”

Heisenberg stumbled back a bit, his lips a thin line. His mind was a garbled mess, stomach totally flipping as he almost lost his footing. The floor felt like jelly under his legs and thought hammered through his brain. So much made sense now but damn…it was a lot to take in.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” Juniper cried, “I thought you would hate me.” The papers and small bits of metal began to fly erratically around them, silverware rattled in the drawers as the kitchen knives threatened to pull free from the block.

She gulped, looking up at him, “Please say something. Say anything!”

She almost begged, “Just yell at me Karl, please!”

Heisenberg looked almost dumbfounded, eyes wide, as he asked in a low voice, “Buttercup, you’re pregnant?”

“Haven’t you been listening?”

“Are you sure?”

“I think so…I took a test.” She looked down, “And my stomach feels different…”

“Fuck.” Heisenberg whispered, crumpling into the kitchen chair. His hands balled into his hair.

Juniper stood still for a moment, trying to control her breathing. Everything in the room started to slow until the debris around them fell to the floor. The cabinets grew silent as the soft hum died. Juniper wiped her eyes with a shaking hand.

“How long?” Heisenberg’s voice was hardly auditable.

“About a month.” She admitted, padded closer.

He put his face into his hands, his thoughts a storm in his head.

“D-Do you want me to leave?” Juniper asked, her voice wavering.

He looked up suddenly at her, “Of course not! Just give me a fucking second ok.”

She nodded, worrying her hands.

It was a while before they had a real conversation about the matter, eventually sitting down to talk.

Shocked couldn’t begin to describe how he felt.

He shifted between bewilderment and fear.

“Heis…” Juniper knocked on the side of the doorway to the shop.

Heisenberg didn’t move, his chin resting on his folded hands, “Hm?”

“Can…can we talk?” Juniper’s voice was heavy, almost pleading.

“…sure.” He answered, his voice was not tinged with any ill.

She came forward, pulling up a chair to sit close to him. They sat in silence for a long moment before words tugged at her lips.

“You haven’t broken anything.” She observed, almost surprised.

“I’m not angry.” He said frankly, not moving his head to look at her.

“Then…what are you?” She ventured.

He mulled over his answer, not truthfully sure himself.

“Confused.” He finally admitted.

Juniper nodded in understanding, even though she had time to process everything.

“And a bit upset.” He went on, “That you waited so long to tell me.” Juniper opened her mouth but he continued, “We’re in this together…you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide shit from me.”

His words stung a bit but she understood his hurt.

“I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand, fingers finding his coat sleeve.

He gave a little rumble of acknowledgment.

“This also makes our lives a lot more complicated…everything is fucked.”

“Does it have to be?”

“Well it sure as hell puts me on a tight time limit on the whole ‘revolution’ thing.” He snorted.

When she didn’t speak he rattled on, “Your in danger…so much more than before. I’m not losing you again.”

His voice was determined, almost breaking under the weight of his promise to himself.

“And about…about the baby?” She held onto his sleeve even tighter, worry making her tremble a bit.

His lips were a thin line, eyes clouded. “We’ll figure it out…” he sighed, “Won’t let that bitch have it either.”

His words gave her a bit of relief; hearing his want to protect not only her but the baby quelled her fears of him rejecting the child altogether

“…you said you took a test?” He ventured, words breaking the silence that had blanked the room.

Juniper nodded, “I bought one from the Duke.”

“Where is it now?” He asked.

Juniper shifted uncomfortably.

“What did you do with it, Doll?”

“I…panicked.”

“Where?”

Her eyes teared up a bit, “I-I threw it off the balcony…into the scrapyard.”

Heisenberg gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. There was a silence between them for a moment before Heisenberg stood, “I have to find it.”

He paused, “What does it look like?”

“A little pink and white stick…made out of plastic.” She admitted.

“Of course it fucking is…”

It took him three days of sifting through scrap to find the test. When he found it he burned it until it was unrecognizable then disposed of it in the deepest reaches of the factory. Now that it was gone it gave him a small semblance of relief.

Even now Juniper acted like more of a mother then Miranda had: speaking fondly about the growing life and in the soft tones of her voice. The very fact she strove to learn new skills for the future child’s benefit spoke volumes to him.

He was still on the fence with how he felt, a mixture of fear and confusion. But seeing her be the thing he never had brought hope to flutter about his chest like a young bird.

Neither of them knew, or could recall, their true parents, no memories to guide them now. But they had each other and a dug in desire to keep this child safe.

The most important thing now was secrecy.

Heisenberg knew it couldn’t have just been a miracle of nature. It had to be the work of Mother Miranda, some sick scheme to breed a vessel from her strongest subject.

But fuck all of that.

This was his, his blood, his baby.

And he would do everything in his power not to let her sink her golden claws into it.

That night as they got ready for bed together Heisenberg practically scooped Juniper up and took her to the bed. She made little sounds of protest but he was persistent. Now that the immediate threats were sorted out he just craved comfort.

He flopped onto the bed, nuzzling into her. She wiggled into a more comfortable position on him, cupping a hand over his strong jaw.

“What’s all this for?” She smiled.

“You’ve been so worked up recently that you’ve been a prickly bitch to me for weeks…I just want to hold you ok.” He huffed out.

Juniper looked away, the guilt flooding back into her. She blinked away the threatening salt water, her heart clenching. She hugged onto him, “I’m sorry.” She sniffed.

He accepted the hug, nuzzling into her hair and huffing out deeply. “I know…” he murmured.

They lay there for what felt like hours, just enjoying each other’s heartbeat and warmth. Tension seemed to flow from them, the comfort washing away weeks of stress.

“I love you.” Juniper murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, buttercup.” He whispered back, dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head.

Heisenberg was still concerned for her and their situation beyond words, but the heaviness of the world could wait. He lay back, holding Juniper to his chest as he thought. The fact she carried his baby at that very moment still baffled him. Something deep in his heart sparked to life, burning brighter and hotter the more it all settled into reality in his mind.

He squeezed her softly, earning a little mewl.

Fuck…he was going to be a Father.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #resident evil

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

“They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

“Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

“I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

“I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

“Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

“Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

“Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

“It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

“I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

“But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

And you woke up.

The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

“How long have you been talking to Dean?”

He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

“Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

“He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

“It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

“I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

“The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

“Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

“Can I help?”

After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

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bibbykins · 3 years

Note

So, I just caught up on the mafia series having been offline for a few months (immaculate, as with everything you write) and I have a question if you don’t mind. What's it like when Namjoon and Jungkooks partners interrogate someone together? I want to hear about them wreaking havoc together because we stan strong female relationships

Hi! Welcome back and thank you! And in short? A bloody nightmare and I’m so glad you asked! This turned out waaay longer than I planned but it was fun to write anyway!

Edit: Let me add Namjoon's and Jungkook’s fic for background

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: gore, sadistic women, misogyny sorta (man thinking of woman as a bitch), blood, knives, talk of pain, manipulation, torture, mention of smoking

“Alright, so you won’t talk?” Jungkook huffed at the silent middle-aged man before him, looking at his watch as he clicked his tongue, “Well, I have a meeting to get to.” He shrugged, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Ah, looks like our time with you is up.” Namjoon concealed his smirk.

“Luck you, Seungwon.” Jimin mused, but it almost seemed sarcastic, “Well, do you want to tell us where you funneled the cash? Last chance.”

The man, scoffed, “Or what? You’ll kill me? Leave me here to starve for a night?” He mocked, knowing if he died the money would be lost, and leaving him for a night is nothing compared to the elusive plastic lining the walls and floor of the dingy basement room.

This made Namjoon break into a clean smirk, “No, no, we’ve... evolved.”

A knock at the door made all the men turn to the thick metal of it as the silver doorknob turned. He expected some lackey to gather the men for a meeting, or really anything other than the smiling girl that peaked her head in, “Koo?” She called and the man in question broke out into a goofy smile as the girl basically skipped inside, wearing a pink sundress with a light green cardigan.

“Hi, baby!” He scooped the girl up, giving her a twirl and a kiss on the lips as she giggled, “How’s my Honey doing?” He cooed as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Good! I got up early today, made your lunch- it’s in the fridge, don’t forget- and Junebug and I met up with the wedding planner to work on invitations and whatnot, she’s such a doll!” She gushed and Seungwon scrunched his nose as the engaged couple fussed over one another.

He always wondered what made such a ruthless man like Jungkook bend to the will of someone like her. He had only ever seen the elusive “Honey” in passing, never introduced since Jungkook kept his fiancee’s identity limited to him and his brothers. Although he did understand why he hid her away, she was obviously delicate. Seungwon wasn’t even a fighter but he was sure he could break you in half.

Another knock made him roll his eyes as a woman he did recognize sauntered in and he gulped slightly. Namjoon’s wife carried herself with an air of unchecked power, and rightfully so as her husband’s eyes softened as he glided to her, “Junebug, welcome.” He purred as he placed a loving kiss on his wife’s lips, “Having a good day so far?” He asked, genuinely curious as the most powerful man in the country clung to her every word.

Namjoon’s wife was, in Seungwon’s opinion, a bitch. Seungwon was a golden boy, a rising man in the syndicate. He was gaining more responsibilities, and more money, at a quick rate. It was Namjoon’s wife who took one look at him for the first time and whispered in her loving husband’s ear. She never smiled at him or spoke to him. The bitch probably looked down on him, there was a theory that she was in an arranged marriage with the boss as a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Either way, the next thing he knew was an audit was done on all the finances and all of the money he had been stealing was discovered missing.

He grit his teeth as the woman spoke, adjusting her pencil skirt, “Wonderful day, actually.” She grinned, “The wedding plans are going wonderfully, makes me want to renew our vows using that planner.” She looked at Namjoon with nothing but love, “Wouldn’t that be nice, my love?”

He hummed, “Sounds lovely, my darling.”

Jimin scoffed, “Don’t we have a meeting to get to?” The man rolled his eyes as the couples giggled at him, knowing he was just jealous.

“Right, right.” Jungkook sighed as he turned to his lover, “Your raincoat is in the bag.” The girl hummed as he handed her a suitcase, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She beamed at him, “Have fun at the meeting!” She chirped and he cooed at her before kissing her forehead.

“You know the drill. Be safe, be ruthless,” Namjoon murmured to his wife before they kissed each other, “Call me when you’re done.”

Her eyes flickered to Seungwon for a split second as a malevolent smirk found its way onto her face, “It’ll be quick I’m sure.” She stated simply, “Love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He spoke as the men left the room.

Seungwon heard shuffling next to him and he turned to see Jungkook’s fiancee, who he only knew as (and was unable to call her) Honey, bending over as she shuffled a clear raincoat over her outfit.

“You’d be wise to watch where your eyes land.” Junebug, another name he was not allowed to call the woman, spoke with sharp eyes catching his, “Honey isn’t here for you to look at.” She sneered and before he could even open her mouth, she cut him off, “So, before we do our thing, would you like to tell us to what account our money is?” She raised a brow and he rolled his eyes.

“And how do you know I didn’t spend it?” He challenged and the woman simply laughed.

She looked him up and down like he was trash, making his skin flare with rage, “You’ve been wearing the same pair of sneakers since we met, have been using the same hair products, and your home and car have remained the same.” She deadpanned and he cursed himself internally, “If you spent it, you’d be dead.” She stated simply, “Now, last chance before things get ugly, where’s the money?”

Seungwon heard the leader’s women were participating in business, but he didn’t expect interrogation to be something they handled. He gulped, not enjoying surprises or not knowing what exactly they can do. He knew how the leaders made people squeal, but the women? He had no idea. However, he remained silent, jaw clenched as he held his silence and her gaze in spite of the metal clinking next to him.

She raised a brow before clicking her tongue, “You’re gonna make me put on a raincoat?” He remained silent as she rolled her eyes, “Fine, Honey, you’re up.”

The cheerful woman hummed as she walked up to him, face behind a shield and hands with pink gloves on as she held a thin knife, “Okay, so you tell me where the money is, and I’ll stop, okay?” She held up the symbol in her gloved hand before giggling, “Wow, usually it’s just for inside info but now I’m like ‘where’s my money?!’ like a real mafia person!” She turned to Junebug with a childish grin that the woman returned, now donned in a raincoat and patting the woman’s head.

“So cute.” She cooed, “Now, be safe, be ruthless.” She spoke softly and Honey nodded.

“What are you gonna do? Take my finger off?” He scoffed and the way he made the woman giggle unnerved him.

Her eyes landed on him, much darker now as she scanned his form, stopping at his forehead, “Hey mister, you’re sweating quite a bit now. Are you nervous?” She asked and he remained silent, “Did you know stress can make pain worse?” She leaned forward, lips close to his ear and she sniffed lightly, “Uh oh~ we got a smoker!” She sang, stepping back and sinking to her knees, “Nicotine hinders blood flow to joints, making healing so slow.” She pouted and he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable with the way she glided a sharp knife along his legs, “Okay, here we go!”

The pain was blinding, but the cruelest part of it is that it was not fatal. He never saw where she stabbed him, he couldn’t bear to open his eyes as the pain radiated throughout his body, most concentrated in his left knee. He couldn’t breathe as he focused on not saying a word and heard a chuckle from one of the women, “Didn’t you hear her, old man? She said stress makes the pain worse.” A wicked cackle followed as he pressed his lips together.

“The beautiful thing about pain is that it’s all in your head.” Honey taunted, “The brain doesn’t feel pain, chemicals from it tell you that it hurts.” She explained with a wicked lilt to her voice, “I could be poking you, but if I have a big enough reaction-” She gasped loudly and pain shot through him like a bullet but there was no gunshot, “You’ll cry your little heart out.” She chortled, “Like a baby.”

“You think I like wearing a raincoat waiting for pigs like you to squeal?”Junebug spoke, “I don’t want to be doing this to you, Seungwon, I really don’t.” Her voice was softer, almost pitying, “But you forced my hand, Honey’s hand.” She clicked her tongue like she was scolding a child, “We don’t like to hurt our family, so why do you like to hurt us?”

He panicked, the tenderness in her voice getting to him, offering solace from pain. This went on for what felt like hours. Each time Junebug would speak, Honey would cease her torture. They were training him, like a dog. They were getting him most comfortable with speaking with Junebug, just so he would salivate at the chance of talking with the woman. Junebug spoke honeyed words about how important he was, how vital he was to their group, making it seem like they were doing him a favor by torturing him. It had to have been a whole day by the time he gasped out the account he put the money.

He was delirious, and mercy was a greater reward than any cashout as the blood from the slit on his forehead seeped into his eyes, “Good choice.” Junebug praised as she wrote down the info, “What’s our time, Honey?”

The girl simply beamed, raincoat off, not a speck of blood on her pristine outfit, “Twenty minutes.”

#yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts #yandere bts au #mafia bts #bts mafia au

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detroitbecomeyandere · 3 years

Note

Can I get some more Pirate! Markus? Maybe one where his mermaid tries to escape with the help one of his more kind-hearted crew members? Or something like that?

(I took a small liberty with it half way through because I fell in love with the character lol)

Riley went to the captain's quarters every morning and evening to deliver his meals, and every morning and evening he had to stare at the pitiful mermaid. The first month you were in the tank you would thrash and bang against the glass desperately trying to break it, the second month your fight had seemed to fade away and instead you spent your time staring out the window towards the sea. He thought it was cruel that the Captain placed your tank infront of the window forcing you to see your freedom but never being able to reach it.

By the third month Riley had noticed that your skin started to look more blue and that your tail seemed to become dull and peel. He suggested to the Captain that you might need some new water and so Markus gave him a new duty, now everyday it was his job to rotate out your water. Hauling buckets of water was exhausting but it seemed like it was improving your condition. Your skin had almost gone back to normal though your tail was still pealing some it was still better than it was. To busy in his duties Riley never noticed how your eyes would linger on him, how you watched the muscles flex in his arms, how your eyes would follow the sweat dripping down his forehead.

One morning as he finished pouring the last bucket you pulled yourself out of the water and before he had time to react you wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Shocked Riley drops the bucket to the ground and places his hands on your shoulders to push you away instead you push yourself harder against him, he feels a blush creep across his cheeks when he feels your hard nipples press against his chest. Finally you pull away and sink back down into the water and let Riley go on his way.

After that incident Riley finds himself lingering after he takes care of you, finding more excuses to stay with you. Markus notices Riley spending more time in his quarters and when he asks him about it Riley tells him that you are getting sick and he knows his captain is busy so he decided to take care of his treasure so Markus can continue to run the ship without any distraction and Markus believes it.

The more time Riley spends with you the more he starts to doubt his captain and his decisions. And you actually start to get sick again, this time your skin and tail start to peel, you get weak and thin. Nothing Riley does seems to help this time and Markus either doesn't notice or he doesn't care, Riley knows you'll die if you stay captive to much longer but he knows he can't just throw you into the ocean. It would be a death sentence to him and if he were dead then who would take care of you, certainly not his captain.

So on particularly stormy night when everyone is trying to batten down the hatches Riley sneaks away into the Captain's Quarters, you seemed barely conscious just laying on the bottom of the tank. The only way Riley knows you aren't dead is because you reach out to him as he gets closer, he places his hand on the glass next to your's for only a moment. He has to work quickly and set the room up to look like an accident happened, he leans against your tank and pushes it over shattering the glass and sending you onto the floor and the water everywhere. He throws the globe through the window shattering it, wrapping his arms around you he pulls you towards the window and places you next to it. Before you go you lean up and place a soft kiss against his lips and turn to leave, Riley keeps a strong grip on your waist as you lean out the window.

Just then the door slams open and Markus comes flying into the room, from his perspective he sees his littler mermaid about to escape and his trusty cabin boy caught her just in time. Rushing to his aid Markus grabs your tail and yanks you back into the room, Riley loses his grip on you as Markus pulls you to the other side of the room. He throws you against the bookshelves and kicks you hard in the stomach causing you to cry out and curl in on yourself, he continues to kick you while screaming at you "How dare you try to leave me! When I give you everything, you ungrateful bitch."

Despite every part of his being screaming at him to stop Markus from hurting you he forces himself to stay still, his gut wretching with every cry you make. Bile rises in his throat when he hears Markus's belt clink and he undoes it, rambling about how he needed to remind you who belong too. Riley moves to leave so perhaps he seems less suspicious but Markus barks out an order for Riley to come and hold you up, his muscles scream at him to stop as he goes behind you and holds your body steady. He looks anywhere else in the room as Markus pushes his hard cock past your lips and starts to fuck your face. He tries to comfort you as inconspicuously as he can by rubbing small circles into you arms, Markus's pace becomes brutal as he nears his end and before he reaches his limit he pulls out of your abused mouth and cums all over your face.

Markus tucks himself back into his pants before he takes his thumb and smears his seed along your face. With a quick look to Riley he orders him to clean up this mess and then strolls out of the room as if none of this happened. Once he leaves both you break down into tears as Riley fights his back and tries his best to comfort you, he tenderly wipes the cum staining your skin and promises you then and there, as you cling to him for any comfort you can, that he will get you out of here even if it kills him.

#detroit become human #cruel markus #yandere #mermay 2021 #mermay ask #mermay #tara the bookworm #yandere x reader #cabin boy riley #pirate captain markus #mod beau

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threeminutesoflife · 4 years

Text

Hindsight is 20/20

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Dark!Reader Warrnings: death of minor character, stalking, masturbation, oral sex- male receiving Word Count: 3k a/n: Congratulations on the 15k milestone, @sherrybaby14 sweet Scream Queen!❣️ Thank you for hosting #promptchallenge, Lady! 🧡🔪

Challenge prompt/Summary: #27/Steve- “Stalker!Steve finally gives up and the reader misses him so she starts stalking him and he likes it!”

It was all obnoxiously poetic- the way her hair fanned out and struck the air, the whiplash of movement, and the extension of her flailing arms.

Her body performed a morbid ballet when you pushed her onto the subway tracks.

Her screams, their gasps, the failed brakes; between the brutality of gravity and the law of physics, the bitch even died pretty.

The overcrowded platform consumed your senses. The raunchy, celebratory cheers bounced off the tunnel walls and rang in your head as fans piled inhumanly close, trying to return home.

Beer breath and belches lingered overhead, sweat and humidity draped the subway tiles. Shoulders knocked into shoulders, and the little shoves and multiple bumps made your teeth grind.

Despite the acidic shuffle, your eyes stayed on her. She stood past the edge of the platform’s caution line, blissfully unaware. Cell phone in hand and fashionable jeans over her ass, she kept giggling at the phone’s screen. Fuck, she was annoying.

As you snaked closer, you saw her thumb jet across the device. Was she texting him? Were his replies the ones making her smile like that?

Your next thoughts made you pause behind a column with a frown. Does he send her gifts like the ones he sent you? Did she receive that gift?

That gift you still hold when falling asleep most nights- the teddy bear with the secret recording in his chest.

Does her teddy bear “growl” like yours?

You were sure Hallmark never intended for their sentimental creation to be used so obscenely, capturing the sounds of an overly-infatuated man pleasuring himself on the stuffed toy's recorder. People love in different ways, but you were sure his type of keepsake moment wasn’t marketable as a card in their stores.

At first, you were repulsed at the discovery. Your ear pressed against the chest of the bear, soft synthetic tickling your chin. Your brows furrowed slightly as you attempted to decode the rustling sounds. Juggling the bear until you finally located the volume button.

His deep, broken moans erupted from the toy’s chest, clarifying what the contents of the previously recorded message were. You never heard Steve like this. The revelation made your thigh muscles flex. Disgust and arousal hit you in one confusing punch. Annoyance and embarrassment slapped you next.

You dated Steve, twice; once for a late breakfast because he was leaving that afternoon for a mission, and the other was for lunch because he just returned. Both meals were eaten behind baseball hats and glasses so people wouldn't recognize him. Missions and responsibilities made it difficult to see him, and it didn’t help that both dates were cut short due to emergencies on his end. When he called after several weeks of radio silence, inviting you for brunch- you declined. You told him that you needed someone who could be present, someone who could really see you. You wished him well but said he wasn’t the one for you.

Over the clinking of his belt buckle and material shuffling rapidly on the recorder, Steve wished you farewell, “I wish you could see me as I’ve always seen you, sunshine. Goodbye.”

Throwing the obscene teddy bear back into the box, you kicked the package across the room.

After months of hangup calls from private numbers, flowers sent with no names attached, and an eerie feeling of a baseball-capped figure following you on the other side of the street- Steve finally let you go.

So why did your panties ache at the weight of that word- goodbye? Why was there an odd feeling of uncertainty growing in the pit of your stomach?

You were supposed to feel relief, but you didn't.

The weight of his absence slowly grew. You didn’t want him before, he didn’t have time for you. So why should you want him now?

So what if you didn’t have an acquaintance's admiration anymore? So what if your phone’s notification fell into a coma?

So what…

You didn’t want him, you convinced yourself that- but a small part of you liked knowing he was looking. Unsure how or when it happened, you began to actually miss him.

One night you pulled the obscene bear out of storage. The box should have been thrown out when first receiving it, but you somehow never found the time.

The bear still looked sharp and dapper, a little red bowtie garnishing the salacious audio recording.

The toy’s simple recorder didn’t have fast forward or rewind. So in your pining for Steve’s attention, you listened to his long audio of grunting and groaning- repeatedly.

You wanted to hear every noise he made. You needed the timber in his voice. The high and lows of his moans, his breath catching in his chest. The sounds he made when pleasuring himself to the thought of you...

You tried masking the reasons for your actions to yourself. You just needed to hear him say, “goodbye.” Hearing him say that one simple word would make it more official. Of course, hearing him say it and you accepting it were entirely different things.

As you repeatedly hit the play button and rested on the bed with the grunting toy beside you, you knew this was a mistake. Because he sounded good, damn good.

And that night started one of many. You’d mewl in sync with Steve's muffled groans coming from the stuffed bear's speakers, slipping one hand down your panties and covering your breast with the other. You unintentionally programmed yourself to cum as he did on the recording. Which meant, you needed to hear him cum on that audio for you to also find release.

___

The ringing in your head grew louder as you watched his new interest, your replacement, stand by the edge of the platform.

Her carefree, glossy smile seared itself in your mind as you replayed the image of Steve wrapping his arms around her on the sidewalk. He wished her good night with a soft kiss before letting her descend the subway’s stairs.

The longer you watched her, the easier it was for your jealousy to distort the fans’ cheers and drunken singing for the championship win into a slow chant of- “Push. Push. Push.”

Before your mind knew what your body had planned, your legs moved and arms shoved.

She was dead and you didn't mean to do it, at least- not out in the open. But everything in you just snapped.

You allowed the chaos of the crowd to swallow you and drown you in their sea of scared bystanders. Some pulled out phones, while others ran for high ground.

The passing subway train tried braking sooner; gears sparking and metal grinding. It was now half-hidden in the tunnel and half-exposed alongside the platform. The people on board shouted in horror after understanding why the platform crowd’s screamed for the non-stop subway train to stop.

Pushing your glasses further up your nose, you frantically scanned for the easiest escape. Pulling the bill of your cap down further over your face, you ran.

An emergency warning blared through the tunnel. Over the sirens, a voice encouraged everyone to stay calm. However, it only did the opposite- stoking people’s fears and peeking people’s curiosities.

Wearing a disguise similar to yours, Steve stalked your movements behind the thick-rimmed glasses. Off to the side and engulfed in shadows, he watched you under the rounded bill of his baseball cap. When his prior date’s screams broke out, he pulled his glasses down in shock but quickly recovered and slid them back into place.

He was taken back that you ended the girl so suddenly; surprised and oddly proud. Usually, he was the one who took the action and blocked your would-be suitors. But you doing this for him was a dream come true. His dick twitched at your declaration of love. You finally proved how much he meant to you.

Steve had pretended to leave you alone too long for his liking. But he was never far and you certainly weren't ever forgotten. Tonight, you finally showed him that his waiting was worth it- and that he wasn’t forgotten either.

After politely thanking and kissing the bland girl goodbye, he expected you to trail him back to his residence and wait until he entered his brownstone like you’ve done after his other dates.

It’s been your pattern for the last two months, but to his annoyance, you never approached him further and he was growing restless. He thought dating other women would smoke you out. But you stayed burrowed. However this time, he took the same girl out more than once. She got the third date you never did.

He wished he thought of recycling a date sooner, maybe you would have reacted quicker and not so much time would have been spent apart.

But you returned to him and that’s what mattered.

After adjusting his hardness, he checked the tracker on your phone and noted the direction you were headed. With muscle memory, he twisted through the crowd and made his way towards your apartment. You needed him.

Your breathing was labored as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, excessively stomping out your anger on each step as you replayed Steve kissing her.

She deserved what you did to her. Three dates were too many, you should have ended her after two.

Kicking off your shoes and throwing your hat aside in the apartment, you sneered at the thought of them together. You aggressively stripped your way down the hallway to the bathroom. Your shucked clothes knocked against the hanging picture frames.

After throwing your bra at your reflection in the mirror, you twisted the shower knobs into submission. The pipes groaned and the water slowly heated as you braced your arms on the counter. Leaning towards the mirror, you took a hard look at yourself.

After surveying the way the prop glasses perched themselves on the bridge of your nose, your eyes tracked over the curve of your chin and moved down to the elastic band of your panties -

THUMP

Your eyes snapped back up to your reflection as you frowned at the noise. Shaking your head at your imagination, you pushed yourself off the counter and reached for the candles. With the extra stress tonight brought, scented candles would be soothing-

THUMP

Was it your imagination? You turned the shower off and slowly opened the bathroom door. Your ears strained to catch the noise, but no sounds greeted you. Exhaling a huff, you were about to close the bathroom door when you heard a low rustling coming from your bedroom.

Wrapping a towel around your panty-covered body, your bare feet padded softly down the hallway to the incoherent sounds. Toeing open the door, your towel partially slipped when you saw Steve sitting on the edge of your bed. Hat and glasses on, he held the teddy bear that was currently playing your favorite lewd recording.

Steve jostled the bear back and forth between his hands. Tossing it up in the air, he caught it midfall, “There’s my sunshine! Been taking care of our bear, I see.”

Almost naked and fully shocked, you stared at Steve from the doorway, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes didn’t match the smirk on his face, “Now, sunshine, drop the act. I know what you did for us. I saw it.”

The bear moaned in his hands as you stared at him dumbfounded for getting caught. Trying for time, you asked, “Us being- you and the bear?”

“No, sunshine. You and me,” Steve gave a dry chuckle before tossing the stuffed animal over his shoulder. “It’s kind of odd being in your room and on your bed. Well, at least with you knowing I’m here this time, I mean.”

The towel dipped slightly from your grasp at his admission.

Steve caught your reaction with a grin, but his expression grew serious when he said, “All I ever wanted was for you to see me like I see you, sunshine.”

You felt his gaze roam over your exposed skin, trying to gauge your reaction to his ambushed presence. A part of you was glad to see him, but you thought you’d have more time to practice your confession about your feelings.

But maybe this was the push you needed, the tug in the right direction to be fully honest with yourself.

Looking at Steve, the screams of the woman you killed and the crowd’s outcries of fear failed to replay in your head. There was no play track of guilt.

The spot within you that should have been filled with remorse was replaced by the calming scent of his cologne and the enjoyment of hearing the recording of him pleasuring himself from the disregarded bear. Steve was in your room- and that realization caused a sweet wetness to gather between your thighs.

Steve toed out of his shoes and stood in front of your bed. Tossing his shirt aside, he stated, “I saw you missed me.”

You slowly dragged your eyes away from his tented pants, “Maybe I only missed the attention?”

Steve snorted at your words and walked closer, “No, sunshine. You missed us. And you gifted me such a sweet gesture- just like how I gifted you that bear. Granted yours was a bit more… homicidal, but it was sweet nonetheless.”

Your insides warmed at his touch. You rested your face in his palms as he cupped and rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks.

Steve gently touched his forehead against yours, pressing your glasses together. His bare chest grazed your towel, “You missed me, sunshine. Admit it.”

Looking over the rim of your glasses, his thumbs swept over your cheeks one more time before you reached for him and admitted what he wanted to hear with a kiss.

You missed his attention, you missed him.

The old recorded sounds of him cumming filled the room. You bit his bottom lip in the kiss, earning a growl from him.

You needed this, you needed him.

“You’re perfect for me. All this fire blazing under your skin, sunshine,” Steve moaned and praised you before deepening the kiss.

Without breaking his lips from yours, he took your elbow and pulled you towards the bed. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you stumbled over the forgotten towel.

“I can’t believe we’re here. I wanted this for so long,” Steve whispered into the curve of your neck and his hands roaming over your body. “I want to taste you. Feel your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck! I can’t decide how to take you first.”

“..No,” shaking your head at his words.

“What?”

“No. You don’t get to decide what we do first. I killed for us, I decide.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed with impatience, “...You made me wait.”

“So did you,” you countered, unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in his boxers. “But- I get to decide.”

Steve’s hips snapped forward when you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You eyed the stuffed bear in the corner and smiled wolfishly at Steve, “Be just as vocal for me, handsome.”

He struggled to talk as you ran your hand up and down his shaft with his pre-cum, “Keep... keep the glasses... on.”

Your hand stilled around him and your eyebrow arched. Steve looked hungry and confused until it registered that he tried ordering you.

“...P-please,” Steve whimpered a request at your motionless hold. “Please, keep the glasses on.”

With a sharp nod, your grip tightened again and you worked another groan out of him. You quickly pulled his pants down and pushed him to bed’s edge. Running your hands over his muscled thighs, you moved his legs apart and settled yourself before him.

Steve watched as you worked your way up his inner thighs, making him hiss in pleasure from every teasing squeeze and nibble.

“I’ll keep my glasses on but then you keep yours on, too,” you winked before pumping him towards your mouth and swirling your tongue around his red tip.

Steve inhaled with a stutter, lost in the way your wet lips felt wrapped around the head of his cock. He moaned in agreement when you took him further into your warm mouth.

His labored breaths made your thighs rub together. All those familiar sounds you craved when masturbating to his recording were sharper and deeper now that he loomed over you.

Steve was captivated by you- and you felt powerful. Each long lick made his body shake. Each stroke and twist caused his hips to jolt off the bed. Cupping his tightening balls, you bobbed your head further down this length. Bracing yourself against his thighs, you looked up at him with wide eyes and hollowed cheeks.

Another growl left his chest as his eyes caught yours. Tilting his head back, he exhaled darkly. Eyes closed behind the thick frames, he cursed in pleasure.

“F- Fuck,” Steve stammered as you hummed against him.

Your glasses pressed against your face as you buried yourself closer into his pelvis. Your cheeks brushed the inside of his thighs as you took him fully to the hilt. His saltiness on your tongue and his masculine scent clouded your senses, making your panties wetter.

Steve desperately tried to hold it together but having you before him, strong and glorious, left him unable to hold back much longer.

“Let me cum, please,” he begged.

You pulled him out with a pop. His dick bounced against his thick thighs and smeared wetness along his stomach. The sudden coolness caused goosebumps to fan across his skin.

“Please, sunshine.”

Rocking back on your heels, you watched him; goosebumps spreading, chest heaving, hips jolting, cock throbbing. You did this. You brought this incredible man into a pleading state of ecstasy and blind frenzy.

As your fingertips playfully ran along his length, you rose higher on your knees. You pulled him into a kiss with one hand and stroked his cock faster in your other, mixing the pressure with a tight fist and loose palm.

The taste of him was on your lips as you whispered encouragements, “Let go, handsome. I’ve got you.”

Steve shattered at your words, his fists painfully pressed into the mattress as his ass lifted off the bed from the pleasure. He spilled himself over your grip, tumbling past your knuckles as you milked him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised proudly.

Loosening your hold, you raised your stained hand to his glasses and smeared himself over his lenses, “It took me a while, Steve- but I see you now.”

#dark!steve x dark!reader #dark!reader #dark!steve x reader #prompt challenge #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x dark!reader #dark!marvel #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years

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the only way to get over someone... // a Batwoman fic

About: SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON TWO FINALE / post-2x18 / season two finale — After the s2 finale, Ryan tries to be a good 'friend' to Sophie, but it does not go the way she planned (feat. an extended cut of the similar tastes in conversation).

Notes: Don’t read if you haven’t seen the finale. This picks up at the end of the Kate and Ryan scene, then continues on from there because my WildMoore heart wanted to. Under the cut because spoilers + read on ao3

Kate Kane is leaving, and Ryan might need some time to fully process that. Kate’s opposite her, comfortably seated on the corner of their desk. The beer bottle clinks against the edge of it as Kate covers her bases. The suit’s staying with Ryan.

Kate starts, “As for Mary and Luke….”

Ryan jumps in with a smile. “They are my family, and I am going to take care of them.” No questions asked. Though, with Luke and his new super suit, she will definitely have help in keeping their family safe.

“Thank you.” Kate smiles back at Ryan. “And Sophie?”

Not family. Not in the traditional sense, at least. She’s family-adjacent at best. She’s… she’s Sophie, the same person who ruined Ryan’s life and relationship multiple times, and the same person who helped Ryan build them both back up.

Ryan quirks her head from side to side. “Can I get back to you on that?” The repetition gets another grin out of Kate. Worry still shines in Kate’s eyes though. Ryan admits, “She’s saved me a lot more than she’s hurt me, so, I guess I can look out for her too.”

Kate sighs in relief. “Good. She’ll need it. She’s not invincible, Ryan. Mary told me all about the two of you going back and forth over Cluemaster. She’s tough, but Sophie’s a lot more fragile than she seems.”

Ryan has seen a bit of that. Sophie does her best to hide the cracks in her armor, but Coryana in particular stripped down a layer. Her fear for Jordan took another, even her concern for Ryan in these last few days wore at it. “And you’re about to break her heart.”

Kate nods. She seems so sure that looking for Bruce is the right move. Maybe that’s what a good trip of Snake Bite can offer: clarity. Not that Ryan’s interested in joining Kate on that other side.

“Help her through it?”

Ryan jokes, “I’ll make sure she finds a suitable rebound. There’s a pretty great lesbian bar here.”

Kate’s eyes twinkle. “Keeping it close to home?”

Ryan does not like the implication in that question. She redirects the conversation. “Call us every once in a while. And make sure to tell Mary how much you miss her. She won’t admit it, but she loves to hear it. And maybe text Parker too. That girl is so hungry for gay mentorship. And —”

“I get it. I will keep in contact.”

Ryan aims her beer bottle at Kate like a threat. “You better. Don’t make me come find you. I almost died the last time.”

But Sophie saved her then. Ryan can always do the same.

Sophie does not know what to do with herself now. There’s no guidebook on what to do when the love of your life comes back from the dead, then promptly leaves to search for her cousin. No FAQ with tips on how to handle making out with said love of your life either.

There’s a knock on her door. A hopeful part of her immediately thinks it’s Kate. Sophie will open the door, and Kate will drop down her duffel bag and helmet and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophie rushes to the door. Throws it open and — oh, of course. Ryan gives her an apologetic smile from the other side of it.

“I know I’m probably not who you want to see right now….” Ryan starts. Her arms shift around two resusable grocery bags with overflowing snacks and wine bottles. A backpack bumps them from her shoulder. She offers another smile. “I brought supplies. And I’m here to keep you company through the heartache and to take you up on your offer.”

That explains the backpack. Sophie checks, “Kate’s leaving tomorrow?”

Ryan nods. “Tonight’s her last night in the loft, and my only night crashing on your couch. If the offer still stands?”

She seems hopeful too, and nervous, like she’s bracing herself for Sophie to close the door in her face.

Sophie hasn’t exactly had any company at her place. Not since Julia. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone here tonight. Make her laugh, make her smile.

Sophie steps back to let Ryan in. Ryan glides forward. Sophie closes the door and leans back against it so she can watch Ryan take in the space.

Ryan does a full turn in the entrance. “Damn, you got it like this?” She whistles low in appreciation. Her platform converse pad along the hardwood flooring between the front door and the living room. It’s spacious with the most comfortable couch Sophie’s ever owned, her favorite coffee table, and a large TV, courtesy of a Black Friday sale two years ago. This place isn’t as nice as her old apartment with Tyler, but it’s still one of the nicer places that Gotham has to offer.

Ryan glances back at Sophie, and she realizes she should probably answer the playful question.

“I barely got it like this. Say what you want about my comphet marriage,” Sophie pushes off the door to approach Ryan in the living room, “the dual incomes made life a lot easier.” She winces. Any income. “I may have to downsize again now that I’m unemployed.”

Ryan sets her bags down on the coffee table. “Just work with Luke.”

Sophie’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “In real estate?”

Ryan gives Sophie an equally confused look. “He still daylights as Head of Wayne Security. If you work there too, it’ll make Bat stuff that much easier.”

Oh. “I… hadn’t thought about that.”

“Bat stuff or what comes next?” Ryan asks.

“Honestly? Any of it.” Sure, Ryan has called Sophie now that Sophie knows the truth. They’ve teamed up, and they really did a great job last night during the blackout. All signs point to Sophie officially being a part of the team. She simply doesn’t want to assume and get hurt in the process.

Ryan reads her silence and rolls her eyes. “Consider this your Bat Team orientation. We mostly work nights, though there are the occasional work trips. We went to a beautiful island this year for a company retreat.”

Sophie can play along. “I think I’ve been there. Shame about the fire.”

Ryan nods with a faux somber expression. “Beautiful sight, even if it did almost kill me. Oh, and we have full medical benefits, so long as you go to Mary and Mary alone. No overtime. No days off. But you get to make Gotham a better place.”

Sophie pretends to think it over. “Is there a uniform?”

“Only for me. The rest of the staff comes as they are.”

“Lucky them.”

Ryan pops the collar on her flannel shirt. “You should see me in my suit.” It fits Ryan in all the right places for being protective wear. Sophie will never say that though. Ryan’s cocky enough without being complimented.

Sophie eyes the bags. “So what’s the plan?”

Ryan perks up, their earlier bit forgotten. “Anything we want. I’ve got face masks —” She tugs them out to show Sophie. “Candy and snacks. Most of it’s vegan, so I can enjoy it too. I brought wine that I took from the bar. We can blast angry, pop music, or do sad girl karaoke. Ooh, you can call Kate a bitch again.”

“I called Circe a bitch,” Sophie clarifies.

Ryan waves that off. “She deserved it.”

“Well, she’s gone so….” Sophie shrugs because that is the point, isn’t it? She glances around her one bedroom apartment — the effects of her last break-up — and logs the empty spots on the walls where old art would’ve gone. There’s space on the bookshelves from the books Tyler took with him. After the divorce, Sophie had to physically sort through her life. What does she do now when there’s nothing to pack up, or send away?

Sophie admits, “I’ve never had another person for this. Though, Kate and I did have a better goodbye than we usually do.” Even saying that puts a little smile in the corner of Sophie’s lips.

Of course Ryan clocks it. “Oh, y’all had a good-bye then.”

Sophie’s smile gets bigger as she licks her lips. A very good bye. As the rest of the conversation filters back in, Sophie’s smile shrinks. “She wants me to go for something easier.”

Ryan hums in understanding. “Long distance isn’t great, especially when you have no idea where she’ll be.”

“Are we still talking about Kate?” Sophie asks. Angelique’s out there somewhere. Ryan spent the majority of their working relationship hating Sophie because of Angelique. If Ryan’s still hung up on her….

Ryan shrugs. “We’re all getting over someone. I am just much further along than you.”

Honestly, direct communication is not something Sophie is interested in right now. She doesn’t want to think about whether Ryan misses Angelique, or how much Sophie will miss Kate when the reality sets in. She doesn’t want to think about Imani, or the fact that Ryan has had a whole mini-relationship in these last few months while Sophie’s been frozen in grief and time.

“You know what they say, the best way to get over someone…” Sophie lets the sentence hang a moment as Ryan’s eyebrows inch higher and higher up her hairline. Sophie laughs before finishing, “is to watch a movie with a friend. You pick.”

The way Ryan’s face lights up with the power is absolutely worth whatever disaster will take up the next two hours of Sophie’s life. “Let me see what you got.”

As Sophie brings two glasses of wine over to the living room, Ryan puts a throw pillow on the ground and tells Sophie to sit on it.

“But the couch—”

“Is for me!” Ryan plops down with her feet on either side of the pillow. She looks like they’ve got church in the morning and the hot comb’s smoking on the tray beside her. “You know the set up,” Ryan says.

“True. Care to tell me why?” Sophie’s hair is fine.

Ryan’s nose quirks up the way it does when she needs to keep her emotions in check. She shrinks into her chest. “When I was sad, my mama used to play with my hair. She’d claim that she was oiling my scalp, but mostly, she ran her fingers through it. Gave me a little massage until I felt better, or went to sleep. I am willing to do that for you, if you want to actually relax.”

Relaxing does sound better than drinking a lot of wine and crying. Besides, Ryan studies Sophie’s face like she wants to find every crack and smooth it over. How could Sophie say no?

She sets the wine down and sits onto the pillow. Instinct takes over as she scoots back until her back’s to the couch and rests her neck against the side of the cushion. Ryan does a little happy dance that shakes the couch. She presses play on the movie, and Sophie watches the credits. She does. She sees that much for sure. But once Ryan slips her fingers into Sophie’s hair, Sophie tunes all the way out.

A light lavender scent hits her nose each time Ryan’s hands shift towards the crown of her head. Did Ryan put on a perfume, or is that an essential oil? Lavender’s meant to be calming. Soothing. Sophie wants to drown in it.

As Ryan massages her way along Sophie’s scalp, the world melts away. No pain, no drama, just a weightlessness that eases down her body and makes her want to cry. Her body sinks into the softness. The peace and stability of knowing hands and the right amount of pressure to send tingles through her skin. Then Ryan’s short nails get involved, lightly scratching, and Sophie barely bites down on a moan.

Ryan must still hear it. A little chuckle shakes the couch. She doesn’t comment thankfully. Sophie doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed right now. Too lost in the feel of Ryan’s hands on her. If this is what Ryan can do with just Sophie’s head —

Sophie’s eyes fly open. She needs to get a grip.

Ryan’s fingers snake down to Sophie’s shoulders. Again, the only grip Sophie can focus on is Ryan’s. Sophie lasts another few minutes of this high before sighing out, “Marry me.”

She figures Ryan will laugh at that too. They’ve joked enough about dates, both in and out of the cowl. Ryan doesn’t even stop touching her. Ryan leans down rather than keeping the distance. The shift in position tightens her thighs on either side of where Sophie sits. She waits until her breath is a warm whisper against Sophie’s ear to let out the sexiest little laugh. Sophie genuinely stops breathing.

“If you think this is good, you’re not ready.”

In an instant, Sophie would really like to be. Ready, willing, anything and everything if it feels this good and Ryan stays this close to her. Her face is on fire as she turns her head to see Ryan. Fuck, Ryan’s lips are right there. Teasing and parted, and Ryan’s tongue dips out to wet them. Sophie drags her gaze up from Ryan’s lips to meet Ryan’s hooded, sparkling eyes. Oh she knows exactly what she’s doing to Sophie. She’s enjoying this.

Ryan’s voice still sounds teasing. “Watch the movie, Sophie.”

“I’ll watch what I want to watch,” Sophie shoots back.

Ryan takes that as the challenge it is. She holds the stare and kneads her thumbs into the backs of Sophie’s shoulders. Sophie’s eyelids flutter, and she struggles again to keep from audibly moaning. At least this time, she catches the little gulp Ryan does.

Ryan scoots back onto the couch, up to her full — albeit little — seated height. Sophie turns further, and she tries not to think too hard about looking up at Ryan from between Ryan’s legs. It must be on her face though since Ryan actually averts her eyes.

“Soph....” Ryan’s voice strains. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Ryan started it with that ‘if you think this is good’ comment. She is not putting this back on Sophie.

Ryan groans, flustered in a way that should not look as cute as it does. “You know what! You — we — just look over there.” She takes a hand off Sophie to point back at the TV. “I am trying to be a good friend right now. To both of you.”

And there goes the fun. Sophie turns back to the TV. She really has no idea what’s happening in this movie. She doesn’t want to ask either. They’re damn near fifteen minutes in. She’s not going back in the movie, or with life. She’s not going to break down over losing Kate again. She has no reason to. She’s spent more time with Ryan this week than she did with Kate. She’s fine.

Ryan clears her throat. “Talking with her today was, like, everything I’d imagined it would be. She’s funny and witty, and she has great taste in everything. Present company included. I can see why you’d love her. And why it would be easier to not try to deal with those feelings of loss all over again.”

Sophie drops her head back against the couch. Her ceiling’s not nearly as interesting to look at as Ryan. Or Kate. “Do we have to do this?”

“We’re not doing anything else so….” Her narrowed eyes say exactly what she means by ‘anything else.’

“There are other things, Ryan.” Besides giving in to the tension that flares between them, besides shifting an already unstable dynamic past its breaking point. Probably many, many times.

Ryan holds her hands together in her lap. “Well, you’re clearly not interested in the movie, so: your call. What does the great Sophie Moore want to do with her break up night?”

Sophie’s eyes dance as she gets up to kneel in front of Ryan. (Yes, Ryan glances at her through what looks like a haze of lust and concern. Yes, she blinks, and all that emotion slips back under the base gleam in Ryan’s eyes. No, Sophie does not want to think about how many times Ryan might’ve looked at her like this without ever noticing.)

“Well, Ryan Wilder, there is one thing that I have been dying to do.”

“You have to— Sophie, please listen before we end up falling.” Ryan glares up at Sophie. They’re standing on a building that Ryan says is the best jumping point to the Bat-roof. It’s lower down, which is probably why Sophie has never seen either of the Batwomen coming.

Ryan’s face is torn between excitement and dread at sharing her red and black baton with Sophie. She repeats for the third time which button to press to shoot the grappling hook, how to angle the body, and how to land so they don’t fall off the roof.

“I’m listening,” Sophie swears. She adjusts her stance so her feet are wide like Ryan instructed. She angles her body towards the other roof — their roof. She takes a steadying breath and gently plucks Ryan’s hand off the other end of the baton.

Ryan steps in to wrap her arms around Sophie’s waist. “You have to brace yourself for landing. And please do not let go of me. I’m holding on, but—”

“I won’t let go,” Sophie assures her. She wraps her left arm around Ryan and holds tight to the baton with her right. Okay, another steadying breath, and she jams her thumb into the button. The wire flies out, and in a breath, they soar up through the air. Wind whips around them, and Ryan squeezes so tight that her face is nearly in Sophie’s chest.

For her assurances, Sophie does not stick the landing. She stumbles the moment the wire ends, and Ryan stumbles with her. Both of them clatter onto the Bat-roof with a groan and a laugh and a tangle of limbs that ends with them side by side on the roof’s floor.

The air around them is quiet and warm and still has a hint of the smoke from all the fires in Gotham yesterday. Sophie has the fleeting thought that it might be easier with Ryan than she ever expected. What ‘it’ is, well, Sophie blinks that away.

She props herself up on her elbows. “Can we go again?”

Ryan laughs. “No recovery period with you.”

Sophie gets up and offers her hand to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation. She tugs harder than she needs to. Ryan pops up with little more than a breath between them. She uses her free hand to tuck Ryan’s hair behind her ear. Lets her finger trail down Ryan’s neck.

Sophie whispers, “Oh, Wilder, you have no idea.” Ryan’s dramatic groan of reply makes Sophie laugh harder than she has all day. "Come on, round two."

Ryan pouts as Sophie heads for the stairs. Ryan points out, "I normally just jump off."

"What's the rush?" Sophie holds the door open for Ryan to come with her. "We've got all the time in the world."

a/n: We made it through season two, and I love these two so much. What about you?

#batwoman #batwoman fic #wildmoore #ryan wilder #sophie moore #ryan x sophie #mine #batwoman: s2 #batwoman: 218 #kate kane #kate x ryan #but not in a ship way just in a tag way

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lovelessdagger · 3 years

Text

Starlight - Prologue: Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Trauma

Words: 2000

Summary: What's past is prologue.

There's a new trend since the fall of the Empire, everyone is rising from the dead.

She's haunted by memories of the Empire that abandoned her, he's plagued with thoughts of what if and doubts of the future. The stars align in a string of constellations which guide them to their fates, decided long before them.

Tortured with echos of before, they're alone in an endless galaxy. But orphans have a funny way of finding each other, and the gods have a sick sense of humor.

Read on AO3 Here

Tatooine was the galaxy’s own personal hell, Mustafar at least had the pleasure of fauna. Demonic nightmarish fauna that was more than likely poisonous, but fauna nonetheless. Tatooine? Tatooine was a barren wasteland that had gone to the dogs, and even the dogs had decided they wanted no part in its misfortune. At least on Mustafar she could go inside and be relieved of the heat, at least Mustafar could be considered home.

Or at least it used to be, before.

“Maker,” An assassin mutters, crossing over a sand dune. The red tracking fob in her gloved hand sounds, it’s light flashing a similar color. To her relief, she was close. The sooner to the target, the sooner she could leave and never set foot on sand again.

She could count the total number of visits to Tatooine in her lifetime on one hand. The first she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, then again at an older age to meet with the Hutts. Nine years ago, her father had sent her on a reconnaissance mission to some abandoned moisture farm. It had been terribly boring, full of memories of family dinners and old beaten up droids.

The irony that that very mission essentially caused her to lose everything wasn’t lost on her.

Five years ago she sat in the very cantina she walks to, warned to run away. A mere twenty-one years old—give or take, her birthday after all was a random day chosen by her and the waking sun. There was no telling her true age, so with her knowledge of human anatomy and development, nine years ago she decided on being seventeen.

“Why seventeen?” He asks her. Entering hyperspace she sits behind him, tracing passing stars on the window.

“Because,” she begins matter-of-factly, “Seventeen is a completely insignificant year to be alive. Sixteen is old enough that I won’t be questioned for traveling alone, but still too young to be taken seriously. I’m not quite ready to be an adult yet, but next cycle I will be. So I am seventeen now, so that I may be prepared to be eighteen later.”

Eighteen hours later, the first Death Star exploded.

The events which follow guide her on a fragile string of stars throughout the galaxy, the culmination of which lead her back to hell. Or Tatooine, as the New Republic liked to call it.

Maybe if she had listened things would have been different.

Or maybe they would be worse.

Either way she would be here. The designer of her cruel fate and dictator of her misery have decided this long ago. Forever would she be trapped in hell with her memories.

And everyone else’s.

Condemned to relive the worst of what humanity had to offer, over, and over, and over again. It wasn’t so bad anymore, it’s easy to get numb to that sort of thing when your entire life was filled with it. Still, out of all the places in the galaxy, why did it have to be Tatooine?

She could understand the appeal for those on the run. Away from the New Republic’s oversight, moisture farms as the only viable landmark, and everyone being too overworked to give a damn. Theoretically it should have been easy to hide, the only issue was every criminal in the Outer Rim had the same idea. Originality be damned.

A detached hood and mask shield her identity, not that she believed anything with a penchant of life would be anywhere near. All that surrounded her was sand, rocks, and sand. Still, she could never be overly cautious. Walking up to the cantina, her eyes roll. It was like they wanted to make her job difficult. She could only assume the bar would be crawling with other criminals. Defected imperials, thieves, murderers.

It could have been a family reunion.

Eyes fall on her entrance, the suns backlight her into a silhouette. She becomes the one cascade of darkness in the light of the desert.

“Boys,” she greets, walking in. Her eyes scan the room, there couldn’t be more than ten men. She counts the passing of ten seconds before one approaches her. Within those seconds her mind remarks on the state of the bar, essentially unchanged. Same busted chairs, same creaking floors, same hideous decorations.

“What’s someone like you doing here?” a man grunts, stalking up to her. The most she does to acknowledge him is an eye roll. He grabs her arm, holding her in place. “Does your daddy know you’re out here?” he asks, leaning down to her ear.

She mocks a laugh. “Does yours?”

The man spits at her boots. “Bitch,” he says, walking away from her. His spit slowly rolls off her toe, leaving a glimmering streak along the leather in its wake. She pulls her blaster out, pointing the gun behind her, she shoots the man in the back of the head. He drops, his body heavy with a thud.

The cantina falls to silence. Nine bodies are now watching her. No one makes a move, even the bartender stops his clinking glasses. She’s almost inviting them to try her next.

“No?” She asks, holstering her gun. “Pity,” she mutters.

She walks up to body number seven, he sits in the same spot she had all those years ago. She places her soiled boot on his seat, grabbing his attention. Motioning for him to stand, she barely makes eye contact.

Her fingers run across the tables’ wood, rubbing over permanent stains and rotting cracks.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says. He always worried too much about her, “Whatever he’s planning, you won’t come out of it.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says. “I can take care of myself now.”

“I know. That’s what scares me. You’re not safe anymore,” he replies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been safe.”

Seven stares at her incredulously, slurping his liquor.

“Come with me,” his voice echos around her. If she closes her eyes it’s like he’s still sitting in front of her. Pleading.

“I don’t like making messes inside, it’s bad manners,” she says, reaching for her blaster. “Get up.”

“Am I supposed to be scared, girl?” Seven asks. He scans her appearance and truth be told she was no Rancor, certainly no Hutt. While her build was athletic, her height physically left her the smallest in the room.

“You owe a lot of credits—” Seven stands, “—That’s better.” She drops her foot. “Now—“

“Step aside,” a modulated voice speaks behind her. She catches a reflection of the intruder in the glass of the framed artwork above Seven’s head. A Mandalorian, covered in pure Beskar, stands a whole head above her. Of course a fucking Mandalorian would show up right now, this had to be his doing. Even in the grave he had to fuck with her.

“Mando,” Seven laughs, he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was uh, I was just talking to the missus here,” he grabs the girls shoulder. “Say, now’s not really a good time so how about we—“

“I don’t have time for this,” the Mandalorian says. He drops a bounty puck on the table, in blue holograms Seven’s profile appears.

WANTED: EDI MOURI

“Let’s go,” Mando says.

The girl shakes herself from Seven. “Listen Shiny, I was here first so move along.” The Mandalorian’s head tilts.

“Are you with the guild?” He asks.

She picks up the bounty puck, examining the emblem. “Not yours.”

Mando’s head turns to One’s fallen body on the ground, a growing pool of blood by his head.

“Your work?”

“You could say that.”

Seven clears his throat. Whispers of bets trail within the crowd. “In fairness. She did find me first.”

The pair are incredulous in their stare. “You want to go with the assassin?” Mando asks, a slight twinge of amusement escapes past his modulator.

Seven’s face turns to ice, his deep emerald skin becoming a pastel like hue. “On second thought. I always loved the Mandalorian stories I heard as a kid, I’m a big fan. Let’s go big guy.” He takes a step towards Mando, the assassin pulls out her blaster, pointing it to his head. At the same moment Mando pulls out his own, pointing it to her.

“Drop it,” he says. “I need him alive.”

She cocks her head to the side, pressing her forehead against the barrel of the gun. “Do it,” she purrs.

He’s motionless.

She grabs the Mandalorian’s wrist with one hand, striking the bend in his arm with the other. A blaster shot fires, Three falls to the ground with a hole in his head.

Mando lifts her by her neck and slams her into the table where Seven sits. Her vision flashes white and she groans on impact. Her hands fumble across the wood in frantic search of anything to defend herself with.

“Wait for me, I’ll come for you in two days.”

She smashes Seven’s plate against the table, shattering it. With a jagged edge of porcelain she slashes the Mandalorian’s arm, staining the edge with his red blood. In his stumble back she rolls off the table.

Harsh stabs are swung to the openings between the pieces of armor, he easily blocks but her movements are quick in succession. He ignites the flamethrower on his arm and she flips out of range.

Six isn’t so lucky.

She lands on his table, he’s charred and slumped over. She grabs a baton resting against his chair, cringing at its touch. Jumping of the table she strikes his helmet. The tune of impact horrifically melodic.

Brought to his knees, Mando grabs her leg sweeping her onto her back. The baton falls out of her grasp. They tumble on the ground, scathing for any advantage they could find on the other. She slaps a taser disk on his armor, the shocks malfunction the electronics.

The Mandalorian lays on the ground, emitting heavy gasps for air. Sounds of passing credits come from a back table. She straddles him, pulling out the knife kept in the welt of her sleeve. It’s metal presses against his capes fabric gathered around his neck.

A smile twinges under her mask. “Not bad,” she pants, leaning down over him.

The cantina doors automate open, in perfect eye-line, a green little creature. It waddles in, cooing with bright eyes at the patrons, greeting them all. It locks eyes with her, head tilted. The veil of her mask conceals her dropped jaw.

The Mandalorian takes the chance of her distraction; flipping their bodies over, he straddles her waist, pinning her hands above her head. The assassin’s chest rises and falls heavy from under him. “I told you to wait outside,” he grunts. The green thing coos, waddling to the pair. It reaches out for her. “No,” he says next, raising a scolding finger to it. It whines, plopping on its rear.

Past the visor, his eyes lock onto hers, he clears his throat. Suggestive positioning aside, he had claim to victory. Though, had it not been for the child he would have been a dead man, throat slit under her knife.

He could still kill her, his blaster was in reach, so was her knife.

He should kill her.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey Mandalorian,” she breathes. “Where’s your bounty?” Seven’s seat empty, table broken, shattered porcelain fallen on the floor.

“Fuck,” he swears. He stands, pocketing the knife she held. He picks up the creature, sparing her one last glance. “Stay out of my way,” he warns. Exiting the building she’s left on the floor.

The surviving witnesses avoid her glare. There are holes in the flooring, broken furniture, blood stains splattered on every surface.

So much for not making a mess indoors.

She scoffs, picking herself up. Her muscles ache, bruises are forming under her clothing, her head pounds.

Carelessly, she shoots Five on her way out.

It’s a redemption of sorts.

Officially, Tatooine was worse than hell.

Chapter One: The Meeting

#Mandalorian #the mandalorian #Din Djarin #din djarin x original character #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x oc #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #Starlight #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x oc #mando x ofc #mando x original character #mando x original female character #din djarin x female oc

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honorable-wanderings · 3 years

Text

Word of Honor - Episode 3 Part 2 - We’re getting INN to it now!

Meanwhile back with Scooby and the Gang. B-characters realize that the Goldilocks is missing and it was only the 3 bears that were killed.

And we can hear them surprisingly well from this far away. Their voices must carry exceptionally well.

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The spiderwebs of DEATH

Seriously though it’s been hours. How has no one either taken these wires down or run into them accidentally? You cannot tell me they have checked every bit of this place for ChengLing’s body if these are still up.

Someone has lied to you Mr. White ‘n’ Blue.

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No you fucking did not. If you were cleaning them up roughly you’d at least get the ones on the main doorways! goddamn.

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Old ppl vs the Ghosts!

COME ON DOWN FOR THE FIGHT OF YOUR LIFE THE ALL DEAD VS THE MOSTLY DEAD THIS SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY BE THERE BE THERE BE THERE.

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The Ghost Valley is a menace! It’s high time someone went in there and eradicated them all!

Huh... never thought of that before...

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Eh. Old people chanting the children’s rhymes doesn’t have the same tension. It’s just not the right feel. It’s a no from me.

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Yes. This is perfectly far enough away. No one could possibly overhear us from this distance! I am a genius!

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We are all very worried about ChengLing’s well being. Yes. That is all. Only his well being. Nothing else. No ulterior motives here. Nope. Purely just good will and worry. :DDDD

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Ah yes! Back to my boys! :D

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You big softie.

Seriously though. He is so considerate of not only Best Boy’s physical well being but really his emotional state and autonomy as well. He doesn’t expect ChengLing to act like a full grown adult but he doesn’t treat him like a little kid either. It’s great and I’m here for it.

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It’s not stalking if we got here first, right? Now you’re stalking me! :D :D :D :D :D

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Some day soon I’ll get you to admit you like me ;)

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Whaaaaaaaaaaaat you’re here to? At this random river?????? OMG what are the chancesssssss?!?!?

At this point I just wanna know fuckin how????

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A-Xiang deserves a fucking medal for putting up with this BS. For real.

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A-Xu you make-a him sad D:

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Zhou ZiShu! Look out! They’re stealing your boat!!

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-Hey if the ghost valley peeps come up to wreck shit it’s gonna be our shit that gets wrecked too you know? -I don’t give a farting fly’s left ass cheek! I’m one foot in the grave already.

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Glazed armor this glazed armor that give me a glazed donut and let’s call it a day. I don’t careeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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Are you inn or out?

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Sorry we’re out of space because for some reason we let ourselves rent out the entire establishment to a single person. Like I get he paid for the rooms but it’d still be bad for business?? Like no one wants to go to an inn if they won’t let you stay even though there are empty rooms. Like the fuck

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Look elsewhere? Shit you know this is the only inn in town (apparently)!! Where we supposed to go???

Um... why don’t you try looking at I don’t give a FUCK

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Well well well. Who could have seen this coming?

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Zhou ZiShu is about read to add a few more nails

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This old ragged beggar man is hot as fuck. Set him up in my room at once!

Just end my suffering. I beg you

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ChengLing just gonna keep his mouth shut and stay out of it

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-I gave you my own room! -My room now. Kindly GTFO -But I bought you clothes too! -Yeah no one asked you. GTFO!!

-How have my seduction techniques continued to fail??????????

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Love me pls D:

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If Oedipus invented a wire tap he’s gonna have to work harder to get past me!!

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But he doesn’t look like he’s a bad person

Bad people rarely do.

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Take the bed? I couldn’t possibly!! No! You’re taking care of me and protecting me and you’re old! You take the bed! I’ll sleep on the chair! I’m the best boy!!!

Bitch did I fucking stutter?

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You owe me no explanations. I’m sure you have your reasons and that they’re good ones. But don’t suffer needlessly. Treat your wounds and I won’t ask any more about it.

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MY BOY DOESN’T DESERVE THIS. ALL THIS OVER A PIECE OF FUCKIN SEA GLASS??????????

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Ain’t nobody dope as me I’m just so fresh, so clean (So fresh and so clean clean)

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Daaate niiiiiight

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So I get that you’re like persistently stalking me and all that but like Why??

Because I know you cute as fuck. Why you hiding? Show me what your true face and I’ll tell you what I want. What I really really want.

You first bitch

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Local man tries to pry secrets out of only human in a 10 mile radius who has no ulterior motives and is confused when it doesn’t work.

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Das gay

HDU

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Clink Clink bitch

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Master can you please keep it in your pants for 5 minutes? It’s all I ask. Just 5 minutes of peace! Please!

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Pop Quiz! Who is the second cutest person in the world?

I will settle for anyone who feeds me

Naw. Tsundere is where it’s at.

*Is unimpressed in tsundere*

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Then who is the mostest cutest?

A tsundere with long legs, slim waist, fat ass.

Heavens strike me down now. Please end my misery. Why did I sit here? Didn’t I know better?

Anyone have any more torture nails? Anyone? Please?

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*Insert Mii channel theme*

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We are the unwashed masses. Let’s go fuck some shit up

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Hey guys. Does this look like anime style to you? Someone said it looks like anime but I don’t see it.

I think it looks great! I can’t even draw a stick figure! hahahaha

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Sleepy boi <3

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How the fuck did I become the third wheel?

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*mii channel theme continues*

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Your honored uncle here wouldn’t let us eat anything until you woke up even though he sat at my table. D:

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-Stop acting like a little brat and start acting polite and demure like the other girls

-Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh gross

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We’re doing found family and we’re doing it now!

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Why aren’t you eating?

Yeah! We had to wait all this time for you to get here and you’re not even eating anyway!!!!!!

Well my home and my entire family died, and so did that random boat man who protected me. And also there’s a hole in my stomach. So I don’t have much of an appetite atm.

Oh My God. can you not???

But that’s how I show affection!!!!!!!! D:<

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Shoving food in your face to hide your tears. A time honored tradition.

Also D: Best boy is sad </3

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Oh no. More people I’m supposed to remember.

JESUS FUCK REALLY???

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HOW MANY? You cannot tell me they are all important. Please tell me I’m not supposed to remember this many people. I can’t handle this.

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG

THAT’S 11 PEOPLE AT ONCE! WHAT THE FUCK

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Whenever this guy speaks it sounds like he’s trying really hard not to cough in front of the board meeting.

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Okay so what I got from this is

There was a treaty between these peeps and the ghost peeps to say they’ll leave each other the fuck alone

The ghost peeps broke that promise by fucking with the mirror lake sect and so these peeps decided to retaliate

and they’re gonna retaliate by throwing a party? Like I guess they’re just gathering forces? But like it’s a weird way to do it.

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Oh for the love of god.

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Pffffffffffffffff welcome to the circus

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*sigh*

Okay y’all I can remember like 6 people. 7 Max. Y’all gonna have to be picky about who’s important here.

How many of these people do I actually have to know?

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Now what the fuck happened here and why are the twin jades here?

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You two have a piece of the glazed ham. And even though no one is using it it’s really important that we keep it that way. No one must hold all pieces of the glazed ham. Or..... bad things?

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Oh my. Pain o’clock already?

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SOMEONE GET THEIR ASS IN THERE AND GIVE MY BOY A HUG!

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Hey! What do you see? Is he in there? I can’t see a goddamn thing.

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So I know that he’s like what, 15? And like grew up with a dad. But like you know they made him scream “A-Die” and then wake up to Zhou ZiShu’s comforting touch on purpose. You know that was planned.

Maybe not a father, but certainly a father figure.

(Also thanks, A-Xu for answering my request from earlier for someone to comfort the poor boy.)

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What’s this? The sounds of a scuffle???

Whelp. Not anymore.

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Couldn��t he have just ordered them to leave instead?

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The Ghost Valley seems to be following me rather closely.

Oh you have no idea. ;)

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Alcohol detected

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Let me call you a cute pet name and I’ll let you drink from my bottle of nectar. ;)

Oh my god this shit again?

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You know what?

Two can play at this game.

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You wanna see what lies underneath? Rip it off yourself.

Don’t worry! I’m patient! Sleep well! Dream of me! I know I’ll be dreaming of you! ;)

#word of honor #Shanhe Ling #wen kexing #zhou zishu #zhang chengling #Gu Xiang #Writing WoH #spoilers #episode 3 #long post

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Note

it’s always jelus and insecure em!! i wanna see jelus and insecure kells!!!!

They're divorced. Twice.

It's public knowledge, and the majority of the sordid details behind their shitshow of two marriages are too.

And Marshall's his. The little sparkle of one of his own earrings reflecting from inside the older man's lobe and the heavy droop of his sweater on the smaller rapper's shoulder's only emphasizes that. The same way his presence here at a close family and friends holiday party does.

Marshall's his. His boyfriend, his lover, his partner. His. No one elses.

But. That sickly sour taste of insecurity is tickling the back of his tongue with each bitter bite the blonde finds himself taking of a gingerbread cookie. His eyes are locked across the room on Marshall's fluffy santa hat decorated head, the cute christmas centric outfit he was wearing no longer warming Colson's heart like it had only an hour prior. Marshall looks too good in it, all soft and dressed down from his usual monochrome track suits and that was exactly the problem. Colson hates how good he looks right now, knowing the man's ex also got to see it, up close and much too personal for his preference.

It wasn't like he had any real reason to worry. Kim was here because of the kids. Not because Marshall directly invited her. It was a pleasantry between exes, done solely to keep the peace and feign some level of normalcy to their children. Even long after all of them had grown up.

And the two weren't exactly on great terms. Marshall still cringed at the very mention of her and from the dirty look she shot the man's way the second they opened the front door she hinted it was mutual.

But, Colson also knows the rapper isn't against hate sex. Afterall, if Marshall was, him and Casie wouldn't have been scrambling to finish all these damn gingerbread men this afternoon. They'd be miles away in Cleveland or LA, celebrating their own christmas, never knowing Marshall's "secret recipe".

It's frustrating to say in the least.

"I see Kim's round for her bi-yearly intereference." A soft bump to his shoulder drags Colson's eyes away from the locked position he's held for over a half hour. Royce's smug smiling face replacing it as he turns.

Colson's still not sure if he can call himself and Ryan friends just yet, there's a past there between the rapper and Marshall as well that's he's only gleamed surface of, on top of the usual tension that comes from an overprotective friend meeting the new "boyfriend". But unlike Kim, Ryan will at least acknowledge his existence so that makes it a bit easier for him to handle. "Bi-yearly interference?"

"Yeah," The other rapper's smirk only seems to widen into a grin as he shakes his head and downs what's left of his drink. "That's the kindest word I can use with the girl's around." Ryan's motioning with his head to follow him around the countertop for some more and despite how much Colson appreciates his current vantage point he accepts the invitation if not for something better to do.

Better than getting called out for staring like a jealous tween girl at least.

"She does this every other year, or just any year Marsh manages to bring home a lady finally-" Ryan's ring clad fingers shake the bottle of spiked eggnog his way. Colson accepts that too with quick nod, letting the 'lady' dig sent his way pass without acknowledgement. "She shows up in that stupid baby blue dress, hair freshly dyed, face done up to the nines, all that shit she'd do back when her and Marsh were still together and she was his-" quick pause in pouring for signed quotation marks, Ryan's eye roll visible even through his shades. "Dime piece." The confirmation of something being up with her less than Christmassy themed outfit only stokes the fire in Colson's stomach though and makes his neck itch to twist back around but Ryan is continuing. "And then she flaunts their ex status like its some trophy whoever Marshall's seeing should be jealous of."

Even the quick toss of some eggnog into the back of his mouth doesn't smother his fire. If anything the weak liquor filled drink puffs like gasoline for Colson's nerves. "And what? She's gonna try and fuck him? Break us up?" Either of those things would happen over his dead body, or hers. He's not against slapping a bitch when it comes to his love life. "So much for him being the bitter yearning ex huh."

Ryan gives a little snort and nod before retopping up his drink. "Funny how that works aint it?"

Now Marshall's presence behind his back feels like a super magnet. Colson's eyes a set of steel balls trembling right before they're whipped back across the room to land on their target. He doesn't want to look just yet though, not now that he knows this jealous pit in his stomach is just further feeding into Kim's scheme. So he settles his eyes onto Ryan's shimmering gold chain instead. "Kinda dumb to compete with a dude by flaunting her old saggy tits and ass though." If Kim knew Marshall half as well as he does she'd know that neither of those can come close to competing with the huge cock hanging between his legs. "If he really needed to look at those there's at least 4 better pairs bouncing around the room right now."

Plus Colson had already taken a glimpse at Kim's flat ass on her way inside, the sad outline of a butt pad was clear as day to anyone within 20 feet of her.

"5 if you count his own." The honesty in Ryan's comment flashed a small strike of Colson's jealousy his way too. The clink of their glasses together in mutual agreement a little harder than needed. "I wouldn't waste your time worrying about it. Been like 6 or 7 years since she was actually successful with it."

"Yeah?" That still felt a little too soon for Colson's comfort. Even if he was only a sniveling brat in Marshall's mind back then.

"Yeah man, trust me, he ain't gonna risk shit with you for Cursed Kim over there." By now Colson's gaze has followed Ryan's, settling rather anxiously on the two with just as much intense focus as he had earlier. The small touch of Kim's fingers to Marshall's bicep tightening his own around the glass.

"For her sake he better not."

"Yeah?" Ryan's shoulder bumping his jostles his attention away again, this time the man is staying closer though. His warm breath felt on Colson's face when their eyes meet. The pretentious shades finally having slipped low enough to flash serious brown orbs. "He cheats and you gonna whoop HER ass? You that obsessed with Marsh?"

Colson can hear the disbelief, and see the close scrutiny he's suddenly being put under. But he doesn't back down from the look one bit. "If he fucks up that's on him, but he's still mine and I'm not gonna toss him over to her just because he acts like an idiot." Marshall cheating would hurt. Colson's already gone through that awful fear once before though, back when they had just started fucking and the question of monogamy came up. The mere thought of the other man touching someone else had almost killed him, and they weren't even dating yet. But it had also set Colson's mind that even if it did happen he wouldn't limp off to lick his wounds.

He's only going to dig his claws in deeper and stake his claim louder.

Marshall's his. Even if he fucks up and forgets that for a moment. He's his and Colson's never letting him go.

"He's mine."

Kim's manicure on his man's bicep is only temporary. Colson's gaze and quick feet will make sure of that.

"Damn, you might be worse than both of them, kid."

#this has sat in my drafts #so time to clean them out a bit #emgk #asks #i love asks

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elen-aranel · 3 years

Text

Lt., Phone Home (Part 2)

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I saw the prompt and was inspired Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: mild cursing, drunk guy being creepy, mild canon-typical violence, alcohol mentions. WC: 2.5k A/N: what is happening to me I wrote this today and um. Yeah. Lots of plot but no kissing? Idk what to say. This is the Captain I needed today. Please excuse the pun title.

“I don’t think I can do this, Captain.”

It has been an... unusual day. Even if in space in general and on the Enterprise in particular there aren’t all that many usual days, this one has been exceptional.

You aren’t privy to all the details of what happened – you were in Engineering, running a level three diagnostic when the alien ship had crossed your path, and, well, ships and technology are your thing. Not theoretical temporal mechanics. Although, you suppose, looking at the... ‘phone booth’? Maybe the mechanics aren’t theoretical anymore.

You were surprised when you were summoned to the conference room, and told that you would be joining the Captain on this mission. Between getting dressed in civvies that wouldn’t look out of place in the twentieth century, and packing a bag with the equipment you’d need to retrieve the artefact, you couldn’t decide if you were more surprised that you were going or that Number One was letting the Captain off the ship, given the circumstances.

“So, why are we doing this?” You ask, as you scan the small town you’ve beamed to the edge of with your tricorder. You know what you’re looking for, but that’s about all.

“The Layrians maybe could have asked before they sent us back in time but... something was stolen from them and wound up here.” he quirks a wry smile at you. “If the... artefact, is allowed to stay here? They showed me the damage that would be done to the timeline, and Spock was able to verify it. Sending us back shielded us.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” you reply, adjusting the tricorder. “Well, whatever it is, it’s this way,” you say, gesturing, as you put your tricorder back in your bag. You can’t bring yourself to ask why you had been chosen for the mission.

“Lead on,” Pike says, and the two of you head into the town.

It’s evening, getting dark, and the streets are quiet. Shops are shut, and only a couple of people pass as you walk.

“Is it wrong that even though I can’t believe how lucky I am to be here, part of me wishes it was daytime?” you say, as you turn a corner on to what looks to be the main street.

“No, I don’t think so. I would like to stop for a coffee. Look in the shops. But...”

“But we would probably mess up the timeline.” A vehicle drives past, and you wrinkle your nose. “I wasn’t expecting the smell.”

Pike laughs. “Horrible, isn’t it? Give me a horse to get around on any day.”

“Horses smell too, though, right? Especially when...”

“But it’s a natural smell. It’s different.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” you say, rolling your eyes a little to show you aren’t convinced. “The building we want is that one.” You point across the road to a bar. You hear music coming through the doorway, see people going in and out.

“You’d better call me Chris when we’re in there. We don’t want to draw attention when we’re around people.”

“Um... yes, Chris.”

You should have known that a bar would be trouble. Inside you take a seat at a table in the corner, where you can scan surreptitiously, and the Captain – Chris – goes to buy you drinks. You take a look round. It isn’t full, but it’s a week night, and there are a decent number of people. A band is playing in the corner, with guitars and a girl sitting on a stool singing. A few people are listening but most are chatting. You’re pleased to see that the currency you synthesised on the ship hasn’t raised any suspicions, as Chris returns with a beer for you and a scotch on the rocks for himself.

“Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass with your bottle. You take a sip, savouring the authentic taste of the alcohol.

“Don’t forget, this is the real stuff,” he adds, as he takes a sip himself.

“I can’t. I think this might spoil me for the stuff we usually have.” You avoid saying synthehol – you don’t know if anyone can hear you.

“Don’t play innocent. I know about the hooch you guys brew in the test bay.”

You laugh. “I never drink that stuff, Chris. It is absolutely disgusting.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “It’s fine if you just want to get plastered, but the hangover is not worth it.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience there... do you have a story to tell?” He smiles, dimples at you, and wow. You’re in a bar, in the twentieth century, with a Captain that looks like that, and he has dimples.

“I am absolutely not telling you any stories of any kind,” you return, taking another sip of your beer before opening your tricorder under the table.

You look at your readings. This is going to be a problem.

“The artefact. It’s that thing on the counter behind the bar. Next to the machine they put the money in.”

“The doll-looking thing?” Chris sounds sceptical.

“That’s the one.” You sigh. You have no idea how you’ll get to it.

“I’m going to go take a closer look.” Chris goes to the bar and orders another drink, but this time he stays, flirting with the bartender. She’s pretty, and she doesn’t seem to be trying to shut him down – her laugh looks natural as she leans in toward him, not paying any attention to a couple of guys further along the bar who are clearly waiting to be served. You feel a pang of jealousy go through you at that, but he’s the Captain. There’s no way he’d ever want to be with you. You sigh and power off your tricorder, putting it back in the bag.

“Hey beautiful, looks like your guy abandoned you. How about you and me have some fun, make him jealous?” You look up into the inebriated face of a man in his mid thirties, dark hair greasy and beard unkept. He might even have been attractive if he got cleaned up. If he wasn’t so clearly drunk.

“No thanks, I’m good,” you say, polite.

“Yeah you are,” he says as he sits down anyway. You scan the room. Chris hasn’t noticed – he’s still talking with the bartender, and the band is playing a louder number now. No one is paying attention to you.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you say, moving to stand, but he grabs your arm.

“Don’t be a bitch. I just want to get to know you.”

You stand, yanking your arm out of his grip, and he falls backwards off the chair. But he gets up surprisingly fast, advancing toward you before you can get round him. And somehow, he has friends – those two guys at the bar have got up and are flanking him.

“Come on, honey, is that any way to treat a guy who’s being nice to you?” He makes toward you again and, well. Starfleet doesn’t give you combat training for nothing. You punch him, hard, and he goes sprawling into his friends. Everything goes quiet for a second, and suddenly you realise you have friends too – Chris is on one side of you, and a stranger on the other. Then the guy you punched rallies and all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly everyone in the place has taken sides; a fight must have been waiting to happen, you think, as you push forward to the bar. The bartender is going for the phone, and you see your chance. You catch the Captain’s eye, mouth “leave”, then you jump up onto and over the bar, glad for your pants and sensible shoes.

What you didn’t expect, as you hear sirens in the distance, was that the artefact was going to release some kind of EM pulse when you touched it. The lights all blow. The sprinklers come on. The money machine thing spews out a load of paper then catches on fire before the sprinklers dowse it.

Chris was nearly out the door, so he only stumbled out into the street. You held on to the doll-statue thing with a death grip – you hadn’t come this far to be thwarted – and maybe that protected you? But either way, where everyone else had been fighting or moving to get out the way or protect their drinks, they were now all sprawled on the floor like so many puppets with cut strings.

You check the bartender – she is still breathing, pulse still strong – but the sirens are getting louder. You stow the doll in your bag, go through the bar’s back door, through the dark kitchen, step over the cook’s prone form, and out into the alley.

You want to lean against the wall, calm down a little, but the siren is close now and you need to find the Captain, so you continue out onto the street.

Pike’s hair is mussed. You’ve never seen him look less then perfect before, but there is no other word for it.

“Captain, are you okay?” You ask as you fall into step with him.

“Chris. And I’m fine. Did you get...?”

“Yes, it’s in here.” You pat your bag. “I can believe it could mess up a timeline, based on what happened in there.”

“That was something else,” he says, taking your arm to draw you into an alleyway, out of sight of prying eyes.

He reaches in his pocket for his communicator with his other hand, and flips it open. It doesn’t make the usual sound.

“Pike to Enterprise, come in please,” he says but there’s just silence. Not even static.

He closes and re-opens it but still nothing, so you reach in your bag for yours, handing it to him wordlessly.

“Pike to Enterprise?” but there’s nothing. Yours is fried too.

You get out your tricorder, expecting it to be dead, but it switches on.

“I think the... doll... fried all active devices. Communicators run on low power all the time for translation. We have the tricorder but I can’t use it to contact the ship.”

“Well, we better not stay here. We’re loitering,” he says, with that lopsided smile again. “Not that I... well.”

You wonder what he had been going to say, when—

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am, is everything all right?” You turn to see a Police officer, looking you up and down. You’re glad for a second time that you’re wearing practical clothing.

“We’re fine, Officer. Thank you,” Pike replies, putting sincerity into his voice.

“There was a bit of a disturbance at the bar, Jane’s, earlier. You been there this evening?”

“We stopped by for a drink, but we didn’t stay long. The band was a little loud, and we couldn’t talk. Everything was fine when we left, though. What happened?” Pike looks concerned, and you work to match his expression.

“We’re not sure. They called us to say there was a fight, but when we got there all the lights were off and everyone was flat out on the floor. Looked like they’d been electrocuted.”

“Oh my god that’s awful! Is—is everyone okay?” You hope you didn’t ham it up too much, but the policeman looks at you with approval.

“We’ve got medics on the scene but it looks like everyone will be fine.” He takes a step back. “Call us if you think of anything you saw, that could be suspicious.”

“Of course,” Chris says. Calling. You need to make a call.

“Um... officer? I should call my sister, let her know we’re okay. Is there...?” You’re sure there is some kind of communication system in this era, but you’ve no idea what it’s called.

“A phone booth? Sure.” He points. Just down there, on the right. You two take care now,” he says as he walks away.

Chris takes your arm again as he steers you across the road.

“Well done,” he says softly, and suddenly it begins to hit you. You’re in the past. You’re cut off from your ship. You were nearly electrocuted. That creep who you had to punch. The weird doll. Dealing with the police officer.

You come to a stop in front of the phone booth. It’s very dark now, though the booth itself is lit, and this road is even quieter. There’s no one else around. Still—

“I don’t think I can do this, Captain.” You’re embarrassed to admit it – you’re Starfleet, you’re supposed to be ready for anything. “I know I should be impressing you right now, rising to the challenge, but I—” You stare at the ground.

“Hey,” he says, drawing you round to face him. “This has been a lot, and you’re not used to it. Away missions... you can train all you want but it takes real life practice before you get comfortable, especially when the shit hits the fan.” He touches your face gently, quickly, just enough to make you look up. “I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t know you can do this. I know this is your first time on a mission like this, and I am impressed with how you’ve handled yourself so far. Your quick thinking in the bar back there? You’re a natural. You just need to try one more time. Are you with me?”

“Yes Captain.” You take a breath, and get your tricorder out, and a toolkit. You scan the circuitry, then set to work. Something occurs to you while you have the phone in pieces, and you smile

“What’s funny?” The Captain asks, and you gesture to the keypad.

“Enter 1701,” you say.

It’s worth it for his grin as he presses the buttons.

“Pike to Enterprise?” He says as the phone connects, and you can just hear Number One’s voice, a little tinny, though the speaker. “We have the artefact. Can you beam us back from this location?” He sees you holding up three fingers. “In three minutes. Our communicators got fried and we need to put the... uh... phone booth back. Yes I know.” He rolls his eyes. “All right. See you soon,” he hangs up, and you get your tools out again.

Back on the ship, back in your uniform, back in your time, you are called to the ready room. You bring a PADD with your report.

“Captain,” you say, handing it over.

“Thank you,” he replies. “I wanted to ask you here to say... thank you for your exemplary performance. I wouldn’t be surprised if the mission ends up being classified, but you saved the timeline. The important people know.”

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for your support down there. The stress did get to me but... I’d do it again.”

He looks at you, then, his blue eyes holding yours as he comes to some decision.

“Please understand, this is a request you can say no to. I don’t want to put you under any pressure but... I abandoned you at that bar, a bit, and I was wondering... would you like to join me for a drink, after shift? I only have the real stuff.”

You feel butterflies in your stomach as you reply, “I—I’d like that. Yes.”

“Then it’s a date.”

(Part 2)

#writer wednesday #Christopher Pike #Christopher Pike x Reader #Captain Pike #writings of the girl from outer space #writing prompt #fanfic #fanfiction #Christopher Pike x You #The Engineer's Adventures

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jamkookies · 4 years

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤. ♡

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑱𝒐𝒋𝒐. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆, 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆? 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚.

Pairing: OC X Barista!Jungkook

Contains: humor, mutual pining, fluff, cuddles, vine references, hurt and comfort, sexual tension.

Warnings: swear words, angst, dark themes, anorexia, mentions of self-harm, starvation, binge eating.

Word count: 30k+ (don’t ask)

A/N: I spent almost a year working on this, during which time I went on and off from writing. It’s finally here and my excitement is through the roof. Special thanks to @keopitae for sharing her thoughts on the fic and for her continuous support. Eli out.

____________________________

"My name is Jojo and I suffer from an eating disorder."

The words echo across the small bathroom walls, crashing against the mirror I so passionately detested. Punching the mirror as hard as I can, blossoming cracks scatter in every direction. The pain in my right knuckle screams, blood already oozing out of the peeled skin.

Fucking cringe. What was all this for? Was there a camera up my ass for acting all dramatic and shit?

"Good job, Jojo, you just ruined another one." I sigh and let the running water wash the blood off my hand. This was the third time this month and honestly, I think I deserved a slap across the face for the amount of money I was spending on fucking mirrors.

Heh.

That made it sound like mirror prostitution.

I grab a bandage from the stack I kept on the drawers and wrap it around my injury. Talking to your reflection first thing in the morning wasn't exactly the best way to start off the day, but it had been a mere attempt at self-therapy. Well, since I can't go to a real one, anyway. Too bad it didn't work.

I sigh one more time for good measure and pull a hoodie over my head.

Ah yes, a hoodie. The ultimate piece of clothing.

Feeling cold? Wear a hoodie. Your bra is cutting your blood circulation and you can't keep it on anymore? Wear a hoodie. You feel self-conscious of your body and try to hide every curve and shape? Hoodie is your best friend.

I put on a pair of sweats to complete the look because let's be real; everyone loves a baggy outfit. Not even sparing a glance at the mirror anymore, I unplug the charger from my phone's ass and sit down for a second to scroll through some memes.

Yup.

That's exactly what a person does after losing their job.But come on, I mean who fires someone just because they went to take a piss? Yes, it took fifteen minutes and yes, I was in the middle of working, but my dude, I drink three bottles of water a day. I need to let it out somewhere.

I take a deep breath as if to clear the disarrayed thoughts in my head. As much as I tried to make it sound funny, it wouldn't work because, at the end of the month, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Living on your own had its pros and cons and up till now, if I was completely honest, I had only seen the bad side of it.

Supporting my hands on the sofa, I try to stand on my feet but almost flop back down. Every time I get up, black spots dance across my vision. I can even see whole galaxies and not in the pretty sense of the word. One time I think I witnessed the glory of the Milky Way itself.

The pills that are strewn across the floor remind me of the impulsive decision I'd decided to make last night so I collect them one by one and put them back in the bottle.

Maybe some other time, I think to myself. Another day.

I'm perfectly fine, after all. I did lose my job yesterday and now I'm hanging on a thread for dear life but it's fine. I can make this work. A small green apple on the counter is the only promise of a so-called decent breakfast.

"Well hello there, little guy," I say before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh of the innocent fruit.The apple doesn't respond.I take my phone out of my pocket and tap on the Notes app.

52 calories are way too fucking much for an apple, I think to myself as I aggressively type the number down.This was about the only positive side of this disease. I was more educated on the nutritional values of food than a real dietitian.

This was how it all had started in the first place — from wanting to make healthier choices to cutting on particular groups of food. Just a slight change. Nothing too alarming. But then, I had to know what I was eating, right? So I start counting.

And that's how it all went to shit.

After I finish eating the apple and throw its core into the almost empty trash can, I wash it down with a tall glass of water. At last, my animalistic hunger was sedated and I could finally move on with my life. Indeed.

I grab my keys and shut the door behind me, wanting to go out for a while, maybe clear my head a little bit. It's not like I had to feed my kids or anything. There was nothing holding me back. So, I exit the apartment building, my keys clinking in my right pocket, and I hop on my beloved bike, parked right on the corner of the street. Did I have any idea where I was going? No. Was that going to stop me from strolling around like I didn't have a pile of shit waiting to be dealt with? Hell no.

I start pedaling like crazy from the moment I put some distance between my apartment and the main street. Maybe it was because I needed to let off some steam, maybe the amount of calories I would burn excited me. Either way, that doesn't justify the high pitched scream coming from a girl that I almost run over.

I skid to a stop, the hands on the brakes stopping me from a fatal mistake. The girl's face has gone pale and one of her hands is clutching at her chest, terrified.I notice the way her flawless make-up matches her porcelain foundation, the fitted jeans hugging her slim legs like a second skin, and I feel sick.Sick for the fact that I'd almost killed this girl and all I could think about was how skinnier than me she actually was.

"Watch where you're going, fatass!"

Scratch that.

The Regina George flashback turns it all around.This bitch was going down.

I throw the bike aside in the middle of heavy traffic and shoot daggers from my eyes at her ridiculously perfect form. Any shred of remorse I'd felt up till now dissipates like a wisp of smoke on the wind."The fuck did you just say?"

She flinches from the humorless tone of my voice and I can see from the way her eyes widen that she's starting to regret her poor choice of words.

"I–"

Before I can blink, she's out of my sight, scurrying away like a frightened little mouse and I can't help but huff an incredulous laugh right there in the middle of the street. A car honks loudly behind my back and I don't hesitate to flip the guy off, the hint of a smile still lingering on my lips.

I wasn't taking any shits from people today.

So I hop on the bike once more and round a corner in search of a place to cool down a little bit. My eyes roam over the long line of stores and shops decorating both sides of the road in a flourished aesthetic and pause on the frame of a particular coffee shop, the strong flavorful smell inviting to my senses. I don't have to think twice before leaving my bike on the sidewalk and entering the shop with curious steps, scanning the interiors in a quick once-over. I sit by the window since it faces the street and make myself comfortable enough to attract a few pair of judging eyes.

A woman seated on a table close-by looks at me disapprovingly, staring at my clothes for a little longer than needed. She was probably wondering why was a tomboy wannabe man-spreading with an arm thrown across the chair like she owned the place.

Look, ma'am. It's the twenty-first century. No one gives a shit about girl mannerisms anymore.

"Didn't anyone tell you staring is rude?" I say, not bothering to make myself look somewhat presentable. She looks appalled by the bluntness of my words, probably not used to being called out so straight-forwardly but it seemed to have worked as she just turns her head on the other side, pretending to not have heard anything.

That's what I thought.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll down mindlessly. A distraction more than anything. But I don't even get the luxury of having a moment's peace when a pair of black stomper shoes slow down to a stop down my line of vision. I raise my eyes deliberately, following the two long legs protruding from them that connect with a bulky chest till I finally reach the top.

A boy.

No, a man.

Well, a mix of both.

His well-built figure screams "I've never skipped a day at the gym", the veiny muscles tight against the black shirt he's wearing. A swirling black tattoo makes an appearance on the side of his neck, disappearing inside the collar of his shirt, peeking again at his biceps and then snaking its way down his arm. There are multiple piercings on both of his ears, the silvery dangling pieces curtained by a mass of black messy hair reaching past his cheekbones and falling in front of his eyes carelessly.

Those eyes...

His whole physique resembled that of a fully grown man but his eyes were the ones who gave him away. Big and round and boyish.

I wasn't sure why I had spent more than a minute ogling at a stranger coming up to my table. Maybe it was the dark, mysterious aura radiating off of him or the way he was looking at me expectantly. Still, this motherfucker was too handsome for his own good. And he still stays right in front of me, unmoving, waiting for something.

"Are you lost, child?" I ask, looking at him dead in the eye.

He scoffs, clearly offended. "Child?"

"Your fly's down." I deadpan.

Unfortunately for him, his eyes slightly dip down to the front of his pants.

"Ha! I made you look!" I proclaim, a spark of amusement making the corners of my lips upturn.

He, on the other hand, doesn't look so happy, his curled up fists shaking by his sides, trying to keep himself in control."Can I take your order?" he grits the polite words through his teeth, even though he looks like he's about to strangle me from any second now.

"You're the waiter? Where's your uniform?"

"I don't have it with me." The boy's expression has turned angry, irritated even by the consistency of my questions.I decide to take it down a notch or two for the sake of the bulging vein on his throat, threatening to pop off. "Kay, chill. I was just asking."I lean closer and put my elbow on the table. " Soo...You come here often?"

It's his turn to deadpan. "I work here."

"Whoops. Silly me, I forgot."

"Are you gonna order or not?" He can't help the slight raise of his voice, more than enough proof that his patience was wearing thin.

Uh oh. Hoe's mad.

I throw a leg across my knee in the most arrogant way possible and lean back on the chair. "Aren't you gonna write it down somewhere?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

"I can remember it." he simply answers.

Fine then, pretty boy. Let's see how you remember this.

"I'll have a quad long shot grande in a venti cup, half calf, double cupped, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with two pumps of vanilla."

Oh, I've definitely made him mad now.

With a look of pure hatred on his face, he clenches his jaws together and stomps off in the opposite direction with God knows how much memory of the order in his head but before he can go further, I shout for him to stop. I was starting to feel bad for the boy with the long hair flying behind him dramatically. Not to mention, there was no way in hell I'd let that much sugar enter my body.

"Wait!"

He pauses and slowly turns around."I changed my mind. Just a cup of dark coffee will do. No sugar."

Surprisingly, a subtle smirk creeps its way on his lips, throwing a whole new light to his features. "Aren't you gonna tell me to make sure it's darker than your soul?"

Hmph. The little puppy can bite back, after all.

"Nah, that's overused," I say. His eyes scan me from head to toe and then he pivots on his heel, disappearing behind the multiple tools of the counter, probably communicating the order to someone else. It doesn't take long for him to come back once again, his long elegant hand gently picking up the cup of coffee from the tray and putting it on the table.

In that fleeting moment I can make out a messy layout of tattoos; a smiley emoji on his middle finger, four small crosses in the spaces between and a bunch of other symbols I don't recognize. All that, gracefully completed by a gorgeous black flower and a bunch of other patterns wrapped around his forearm.

How contrasting it was, the way his appearance clashed with his personality. Did I actually know him? I think so.The guy was obviously kind enough not to spill the thing all over my clothes in an act of rebellion and I had to say it was an admirable thing to do considering how far I was pushing his limits. I am almost ready to hold out the olive branch to him.

Almost.

"I thought I said no sugar," I say, noticing the small white pack by the side of the cup."I guessed you would probably change your mind again." he teases, but the displeasure is still quite evident on his face.

Interesting.

"Next time, just make sure to do what I say." I retort, very much aware that I was prolonging the situation more than needed, but I just couldn't help it. I was really enjoying the reactions I got from him every time I pushed his buttons.

He's practically fuming with anger but still doesn't fall prey to my relentless attacks, instead choosing to walk away like a civilian.

Pity. I wish he'd stayed a little longer.

The coffee is absolutely disgusting. Its bitter aftertaste almost makes me gag.

This is what happens when you refuse to add sugar to any kind of drink, Jojo. It basically tastes like shit.

I forcefully down the last gulps and rise from my table, leaving a tip for the emo kid even though I'm running low on money. He deserved it after putting up with my bullshit for that long.

The woman staring at me earlier goes wide-eyed when I lift two fingers to the side of my brow, offering her a salute before making my way out of the coffee shop.

I don't eat lunch that day. Not even dinner. I just stare at the black screen of the turned-off TV, sipping water from my mug like it's the most flavorful thing in the universe and not having the energy to even cry myself to sleep anymore. I do that every night. Cry and cry and cry like there's no tomorrow. It feels relieving somehow— like I've let something off my chest, even though momentarily.

I grab my phone and type down the stupid number anyway.

2 calories. I write 2 calories for a fucking cup of coffee like it's gonna make a shit ton of difference.

Fucking ridiculous.

I want to sink deeper into this misery, let it consume me whole till there's nothing left, but like a beacon of light, the image of that boy's face emerges into the surface.

"That guy was cute." I voice the words that have been on my mind all day before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

There she was. That girl again.

In all my three years of working here, I'd never encountered someone so rude, shameless and utterly irritating. She's sitting on the same spot from yesterday, looking out the window and throwing casual glances at her phone. She also has the same baggy hoodie and sweats, probably too lazy to even bother change into something else.

However, what attracts my attention is the bandage wrapped around her hand, a pink hue visible where her knuckles should be. I'd noticed it the first day too, wondering where in the world would she get that kind of wound. She did seem like the type of girl who would get into fights actually, judging from her boyish clothes and brash personality but I wasn't sure if–

Whatever.

It was none of my business and I had work to do, anyway. I couldn't be bothered with the antics of a rebellious teenage girl. The glass I'm wiping almost slips out of my hands. Bold of her to call me a child when she couldn't be more than five feet tall. I wondered if her feet even reached the pedals of her bike.

"Hey Jungkook, you got a customer." Kwan's voice shakes me out of my thoughtful state as he flicks his chin towards the girl.

"Can't you get this one for me?" I grimace."Why? Are you afraid she's gonna bite?"

"Seems like it."

His eyes narrow into slits as he glares at me suspiciously.

"Come on man, just do what I say for once," I insist, not really wanting to deal with her shit for a second time. Kwan raises his palms up in surrender and goes to take the girl's order, but not without mumbling a "kids these days" on his way out.

The girl looks up from her phone upon Kwan's arrival but then her eyes quickly roam around as if searching for something. They exchange a few words too quietly for me to hear amid the general bustle of the shop, and then my coworker is by my side before I can blink.

"Nothing to be scared of, Jeon. She just asked for a green tea," Kwan says and grabs a number of items from the counter.

"So, she didn't say anything rude?"

"Nope."

"Not even an insult?"

Kwan tsks with his tongue.

Hmph.

Maybe she just hadn't been in the mood yesterday because there's definitely something different about the way she's just sitting there–

Barbecue sauce on her ti—

A snort accidentally escapes from my lips and I lower my head further to hide the embarrassment of the uninvited thought.

"Something funny?" Kwan asks, looking up from the tea he was brewing. I click my tongue just as he'd done.

It takes about a minute or so until the order's ready and I note the way the girl's face contorts with each sip of her tea as if someone had actually put a gun to her head to drink that horrendous beverage. She still drains the cup to its dregs, though.

Gets up.

Sways a little.

The hand wrapped in bandages holds onto the table for support and she finally pushes herself up to her feet. A little light-headed, if you ask me.

That confident image I'd created of her yesterday, crumbles into pieces when I observe the vulnerable state she's currently in. I wasn't sure why I was paying much attention to a complete stranger who I would probably never meet again, but I just couldn't stop myself. It was like being pulled into a black hole and finding yourself secretly enjoying it even though your gut tells you that it's wrong.

It was weird but true.I'd experienced it before.

The brief moment of realization had been enough to make me get lost in my thoughts so I snap my eyes back to the girl's table only to notice that the seat was empty.

She'd left.

~JOJO ~

Discipline. I need to practice discip–

Fuck. Is that a hamburger?

The delicious treat from the glass showcase of a fast-food restaurant winks at me and my mouth waters just by looking at it. When was the last time I ate anything decent? I rack my brains out, calculating the number of calories I'd consumed for the last two days and the only results are an apple, a cup of black coffee, green tea and maybe a tank of water.

Wait!

I did lick that spoon of peanut butter this morning, so in total, 144 calories. Might as well call it a fast for all I care.

My breath quickens with every push of the pedal, thighs burning with the strain. It's been almost three hours since I left the coffee shop and I'm pretty sure the tires of my bike must be deflated from going through every damn corner of the city.

Why would I do that? Because I'm a stupid ass bitch who likes to push herself to her limits and who doesn't know what rest means.

I know I'm going too far. I know it won't be long before all of this comes crashing down on me, sending my progress back to the starting point, but I can't seem to stop. Not when the ecstasy is so overwhelming, filling me up with a fake sense of achievement. This was probably the reason why this disorder was addicting. It made you feel like you had the reins in your hands, not it.

Not her.

Oh, Ana. How much I wanna fucking kill you right now.

It was all her fault, after all.

No. It wasn't her fault. It was the people's fault.They were the ones that said things. Things that hurt me. And their words didn't affect me directly but they fed my insecurities.

It was confusing, actually.They said I was fat. I tried and built some muscle by working out.They said I looked too manly with my muscles now. It didn't suit me.I dropped ten pounds starving myself.

What did they want?

What was the right body?

I didn't know anymore.There would always be something not right, not good enough.

I grip the handlebar tighter when the flood of old memories engulfs me without warning, making its appearance like an uninvited guest. I'm not even sure how it all started in the first place because believe it or not, I was the biggest body-positivity enthusiast.

And then suddenly I wasn't.

And then I find out that there's a whole community out there with people just like me but so radical, so different from anything I'd ever seen before. At first, I was outraged, disgusted even, by the naive statements of young girls saying they wanted the thinnest body possible, fantasizing about skin and bones, but as time went by and as I delved deeper and deeper into the swirling vortex of these intoxicating thoughts, I started succumbing to them. They suddenly seemed appealing.

I let out a sigh between heavy breaths.

Did it matter now? Besides, that guy didn't even show up today. Maybe it's his day off or something.

The brilliant rays of the afternoon sun make the glass panes of the cars passing by gleam like a swarm of fireflies.It would've looked pretty if it weren't for the way it made me shield my eyes. I was already having a hard time trying to keep them open as my strength started to run out, the view in front of me doing half–circles and then turning back to its optimal position. My legs feel like lead and I stop pedaling altogether, letting my bike guide me instead.

Tired.

So, so...tired.

A familiar face swims into my line of vision. It's the emo kid.

And he's....falling?

The handlebar spirals out of my control and my knee hits hard concrete. That face is the last thing I see before a black cloak of darkness swallows me whole

~JUNGKOOK~

Never in a million years would I have thought I'd have to carry a random person to the nearest hospital on my way home. Yet here I am, sitting on a chair for the past hour, staring at the girl's chest rise and fall with slow, rhythmic breaths.

There are fresh bandages wrapped around her scraped knee and multiple bruises all over her body. I'd seen the slightest look of surprise cross her face before her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell off the bike, hitting her head in the process. It had been a chaotic situation, that one. People had kept gathering around, trying to sneak a peek at the accident but still not doing anything to actually help. So I'd taken things to my own hands, done my duty as a normal person would.

Then why are you still here, Jungkook? my logic reasons with me. The doctor said she would be fine so why are you still sitting over here, waiting for her to wake up?

That's right. I should be going.I lean my palms on my knees but before I can fully rise from the chair, the girl's eyes crack open. She takes a look around the room, analyzing her surroundings, and then her eyes stop on my face.

"Who the fuck are you?" she croaks.

Here we go again... I internally sigh."We met at the coffee shop. Or don't you remember?" I answer, praying for her life not to get my anger rise so fast.

"Right," she says, even though something tells me she had known exactly who I was in the first place. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"I saved your life."

"Why bother?"

"You should be grateful, you know."

"Did I ever ask for your fucking help?"

I had to admit I was slightly taken aback. The girl swore and cursed worse than a sailor. As if on cue, a jumble of profanities spill from her lips as she struggles to sit up, suddenly finding herself tangled in tubes and needles trickling colorless liquid into her veins.

"Get this shit off of me, " she says and rips the said piece from the inside of her forearm.

"You should keep that for a little longer." I protest, hands already reaching for the needle laying on the sheets but she flinches from my touch and throws a leg across the bed, attempting to get up.

"Sit down!" I say a little harsher than I intended but it was impossible not to.

Unbelievable.

Her nonchalance and irresponsible behavior made me want to punch her in the face, regardless of her being a girl. At last, she has the dignity to actually do what she's told. "Someone's cranky, " she mumbles as she leans back on the pillow.

This girl must have a split personality disorder because only two seconds later her legs are crossed comfortably despite the nasty injury on her knee and she's leaning forward with her cheek on her palm, staring intently at me with a curious smile hanging on her lips.

"You never told me your name, " she says.

"You never asked, " I reply.

She scowls. "Stop trying to play the smartass with me, child and just tell me your fucking name."

"It's Jungkook."

Her eyebrows lift in surprise.

"I know, it rolls off your tongue, doesn't it?" I tease.

"Actually, it sounds like a chicken dying, but okay."

My lips twitch in amusement, trying to suppress the silly smile demanding to make an appearance.

"To be honest, I'm kinda disappointed, " she continues. "I was expecting something more special, like Sebastian or Gabriel or something." She scratches her chin while her eyes still stay rooted on my face. "You know what, imma call you Juan. Yeah, Juan's better. Got that Latino vibe to it."

Her never-ending shenanigans were pure torture so I decide to turn the tables for a change. "And what is your name?" I ask.

For once, she doesn't try to make fun of me. "Jojo."

Cute.

"It fits you."

Her eyebrows scrunch themselves together as she carefully observes me. "Hmmm....Anyway–" She crawls to the side of the bed and grimaces when her left foot leans on the floor. "Thanks for spending your precious time with me, Juan but now I gotta blast."

"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to sit down, please," another voice is heard and the doctor I'd talked to earlier steps into the room. He stares the girl, Jojo I remind myself, down but she doesn't relent, staring right back with the same intensity.

"I'm perfectly fine—"

"Your blood sugar levels are at their lowest point, that wound on your knee needs to be changed continuously or else you'll get an infection and you might have a concussion from the way you hit your head. I'm surprised you're still even talking."

There's a slight tremor in her pupils, which I 'm pretty sure is caused by the panicked state she's trying to hide. She plasters a smile on her face. "Come on now, Doc. I'm sure you can let me off this one time. The fact that I'm still talking proves I'm better, right?"

"Miss—"

"I'll accompany her, " I blurt without thinking and both of them snap their heads in my direction. No turning back now. "I'll make sure she gets home safely," I assure him.

"I don't need your—" Jojo starts, but her words falter when she meets the doctor's glare. "I mean... sure, why not?"

The doctor seems satisfied enough as he turns on his heel without a moment's hesitation. However, he hasn't even made it past the threshold when he pauses, turns halfway around and looks at her dead in the eye. "And by the way, miss. You should eat something. Your heart's gonna fail at this rate."

I could have sworn I saw something flash behind her eyes but she doesn't show it, choosing to keep that sad smile on her face like an anchor linking her to sanity.

"Son of a bitch." I hear her mumble under her breath.

~JOJO~

Son of a bitch I repeat in my head over and over again till the words start to sound foreign to my ears, suddenly losing their meaning.

That damn doctor just had to point out the fact that I hadn't eaten anything for the last couple of days. He was right, of course, but that didn't stop me from mentally sending a series of curses his way.

I have never felt so shitty in my life. Both physically and mentally. My head feels like it's going to split in half, the stinging of the wound on my knee is crying like a bitch and there's not an ounce of strength left in me.

Powerless.

And if that wasn't enough, Juan's endless questions only add to my misery.

"For the last time, no, I don't live with my parents," I say for what felt like the gazillionth time, still refusing the hand he kept offering my way. I might be on the verge of collapsing but under no circumstances was I to let myself be held like a damsel in distress.

Nuh-uh.That's a line you can't cross, mister.

"That sounds kinda hard to believe," Juan says and sticks his rejected hand back in his pocket, probably to get rid of the awkwardness.

"Bitch, I don't need your approval to say something. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Suit yourself. "

His shiny black hair glints in the darkness, catching the beams of moonlight as he flicks it away from his face. "How can I be a bitch? I'm a male." he retorts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Man whore." I reply, putting a clear emphasis on the last syllable.

He scowls, seeming genuinely offended by my words, especially when he says " Swearing is rude, you know."

"You know what else is rude? Asking people too many questions."

"But can you blame me, though? I mean you pretty much look like a high-schooler who ran away from home."

I stop dead in my tracks. "You have a strong sense of guessing."

He blinks. "Wait. You're really a high-schooler who ran away from home?"

I resume my walking, using the concrete wall on the side of the road for support. "For your information, I did finish high-school so suck on that."

"But you still ran away from home, right?" he insists.

"Oh for fuck's sake— yes, I did run away from home. Are you happy now?"

The blank look on his face, combined with the slight shrug of his shoulders almost causes me to snort. "Cool, " he says, unbothered."Aren't you gonna ask why I did it?"

"Not interested, " he states and looks straight ahead, completely ignoring my presence."Liar. I can see that you're one of those assholes who are dead-curious about everything."

"Am not!" he whirls on me.

I scrunch my nose and sniff the air around me like a wild dog hunting on its prey. "You smell that?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Smells like bullshit to me."

Even in the darkness, I can see the dramatic roll of his eyes, causing their whites to stand out. He had pretty big eyes, this guy. They softened that edgy aura he gave off, all muscles, tattoos, and black clothes. And the fact that he tolerated my irritating behavior, which I was deeply aware of, made him look even more appealing to my eyes.

"Why did you volunteer to take me home, Juan?" I quietly ask, glancing at him through the corner of my vision.

He seems to mull the question over in his head for a moment, eyes staring his shoes down. "I don't know. You seemed like you needed some help." He throws a look at me. "Which by the way, is still valid. You look like hell."

For some reason, that makes me retract my hands from the wall and I try to keep myself stable on my own two feet, limping heavily on the process.

"What exactly happened with your bike?" he continues, unaware of my recent action.

"I was busy stalking hot guys all day, so my bike got tired. Guess she just couldn't handle it anymore."

The boy doesn't seem to fall for any of my lies, narrowing his eyes till their nothing but slits. "Do you tend to not eat when you stalk hot guys?"

This little shit...

"Nah, it's just that I'm so fucking forgetful." I immediately reply. "I forget to eat all the time.

"He doesn't relent, still boring holes into my eyes.

"Hey, what's with all the questions, anyway? I thought you said you were not interested?" I repeat his own words.

"Right, " he admits.

My apartment building comes into view, the looming structure now as familiar as the back of my hand. "We're here, " I announce. My eyebrows raise in wonder as his legs keep heading for the entrance of the building instead of pausing.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To your apartment, obviously."

"What the fuck makes you think you can come to my apartment, boy?" I did not want him to see anything personal of mine, yet for some strange reason, I found myself hoping he would stick around a little longer. A little controversial, considering the fact that my words proved otherwise, but I couldn't just say that to him, could I? Like, hey, kid you're nice. Let's have a little chat before you go.

Ridiculous.

"I'll just escort you to the door, " he assures.

"No need for that."

"But what if you fall down the stairs?" he insists.

"You got me there." I punch in the code at the main entrance and hurry up the stairs as much as my limp would let me, Jungkook's eyes never leaving me for a second. After what felt like an eternity, I grunt heavily and lean on the doorstep of my humble apartment. "Okay, you've done your service, soldier. You're free to go now."

Jungkook throws a quick glance at my mustard-colored door, probably weirded out by it but then his eyes flick to my empty hands. "Where's your keys?" he wonders.

My mouth gapes open and my eyes go the size of tennis balls as I frantically pat my pockets. When I notice the way Jungkook's lips part slightly, I burst into hysterical laughter, jiggling the retrieved keys in front of his face. "You should've seen your face!" I laugh. "Hilarious."

He exhales, relieved. "I thought you'd lost them."

"Nah, Juan. I forget a lot of things but not my keys. Besides, these bitches stick up my ass like fucking glue."

The door's lock clicks with a flick of my wrist but I resist the usual temptation of kicking it wide open, in fear of letting emo-kid sneak a peek. It's not like I was embarrassed of the mess in my apartment or anything like that but it felt weirdly intimate to let someone else get a glimpse of my domestic life. In fact, I hadn't invited anyone over since...

Yes, it had been that long.

Jungkook notices my reluctance and clears his throat. "So...um...you're all good now, so I better leave. You should–you should take care of your wound."

How weird to see an overgrown, muscular dude stutter and not know what to do with his hands. I usually didn't have the tendency of stereotyping but this definitely struck me as odd.

I smirk. "Getting shy, Juan?"

He almost flinches at my words. " What? No!"

"Are you waiting for a thanks then?"

A stray hair falls in front of his eyes but he doesn't move it away from his face. "That's not something you ask from people."

I bite my tongue and try not to let the pain on my leg get to me as I squeeze into the room through a thin sliver of space. Still, his words bring a smile to my face and as much as I try to suppress it, it just keeps floating on the surface again. "I'm not an asshole, Juan. So thanks."

"Actually, you refused to say thanks from the start—"

"Okay, now you ruined it," I interrupt. "Get outta here."

He slowly starts to back off and his lips stretch into a barely contained smile. "Good night, Jojo." And then just like that, he's climbing down the stairs with his long legs taking two or three steps at a time.

I shut the door and lean on it for a moment, sighing deeply through my nose.

"Little shit, " I whisper.

Rise and shine.

That's exactly what my alarm tune doesn't say. Even after so much time hearing it pierce my ears every single morning with its shrill screech, I can never stop myself from wanting to smash the damn thing into pieces. However, that's the only thing that can actually get my ass up from the bed. All the other gentle-sounding melodies had proven to be absolute failures, dragging me even further into the sweet crevices of sleep.

The numerous late arrivals to work had made me suffer more shouts and scoldings than I could remember from my boss. The guy was a total dick. Good thing I don't work there anymore.

My room is still coated in patches of darkness here and there, the bright rays of the morning sun nowhere to be seen. It is about 5:30, an unholy time to wake up, but since I was now unemployed, I had made an oath to force myself every day into going for a run outside.

There was no overwhelming hustle and bustle, no moving crowds of people. The city had yet to rise from its slumber and the only activity on sight included slow, quiet movements of passers-by.

I finally kick the blanket off and swing my legs over the bed. The cold surface of the floor awakens my senses as I prepare to go over the usual ritual: Stretch, pee, step on the scale.

The number has slightly changed from yesterday but not to the point where I want it to. A wave of disappointment washes over me. It happens every day yet I can never get used to it.

I decide to go easy on the breakfast. A cold glass of water, an apple, and a boiled egg.

I probably should've thought about putting some pants on first, I say to myself as a crumb of egg yolk smears my bare thigh. I use the pad of my finger to wipe it off and cringe intensely. These thick bitches turned three sizes wider when sitting down and it only spurred on my body dysmorphia.

Disgusting.

Not forgetting about my daily dose of green tea, I hurry up before the sun rises and put some sports clothes on, which wasn't really that hard since they were the only thing in my closet. I shut the door behind me but it feels like something is nagging the back of my mind, demanding my attention.

Did I forget anything?

I rack my brains out in search of a clue but nothing makes it into the surface.

This stupid obsession...

Making sure my shoelaces are tightly secured and my earphones plugged in, I climb down the stairs and burst out of the entrance of the building. I welcome the sharp sting of fresh air that fills my lungs with a deep breath and waste no time to sprint into a run, the loud music already blasting my ears in full force.The wound on my knee does not approve of this but I don't give two shits. It can cry like a bitch for all I care.

It's easy at first, obviously. Your body is rested and unspent so you relish those twenty minutes with pure adrenaline flowing through your veins. But then, the run takes its toll on you. It's unavoidable.

The sky switches from dark blue to a pastel pink, announcing the official start of the day and reminding me of my tiresome condition. I'm panting like an asthmatic by now and my clothes stick uncomfortably with sweat so I slow into a light jog. The sting on my knee grows stronger and stronger til I can barely stand it. The clean sidewalk grows hard under my feet and it's all I can do not to faint from exhaustion. Running tires you out? Try running with not enough food in your system.

I scan my surroundings in an attempt to distract myself from the fatigue. A few trees lining up the street, a grey car hurrying to God knows where, hair—

Wait, what?

I redirect my eyes to the spot I was staring at and notice a mop of dark hair swinging wildly. The body they belong to is in fast-motion, arms shifting from side to side as the legs make long, speeding strides.

No fucking way. I guess it's not such a bad day after all.

I smirk as I gain speed, now heading straight towards the boy with newfound strength. As I maneuver from side to side with a few random strangers, I can't help but stare at the way his sweatpants hug every curve of his butt. He had a nice butt, this guy. I'm kinda jealous. And as if that wasn't enough, the material of his loose T-shirt turns darker from the collar down to his back, marking a trail of sweat. He'd ran just as hard from what I could see.

The music in my earphones dies out as I quickly catch up to him and slip by his side, matching his constant rhythm. He doesn't notice at first, but after the numerous glances I throw from the corner of my eye, he finally flinches and stops abruptly. "Jojo?"

His hair is completely drenched in sweat. The dark strands form wet tendrils on his forehead and numerous trails that drip from his temples and down to his chin. He almost rips his earbuds off and I have to say I feel slightly endeared. As a person who preferred not to be disturbed while listening to music, I could appreciate the fact that he removed them in the blink of an eye. If a person does that, he respects you. Simple as that.

He gives me a look of mild curiosity, which for a surprise makes him look ten times hotter. I also slow down to a stop as a smile tugs at the edges of my lips. "Oh, hey Juan! Didn't see you there."

He looks behind his back for good measure and turns to stare at me. "Are you stalking me?"

I scoff in feigned annoyance. "What the fuck? Am I not allowed to go for a run now? Do you own these streets or something?"

"No, but—"

"Hey, hey, " I quickly interrupt him. "Less chatting, more running."

I will my feet to start moving again and he immediately catches up. "So...how are you feeling?"

"Tired, " I reply.

"I meant from last night."

Well that's a surprise. I didn't think he would remember it, let alone be worried about my condition. "Oh. I'm fine. It's nothing, really, " I wave a dismissive hand.

He stares at me for a moment too long before turning his head straight. "That's good."

After that, neither me nor him try to elaborate on the topic. For some moments, the only thing heard is our combined panting and heavy breathing and it doesn't do much to tame my wild brain from going places. I push the dirty thoughts aside for later reference and give my head a slight tilt to peek at him."Tell me more about yourself, Juan."

"What do you wanna know?" he asks without looking.

"Everything."

He laughs delightedly. "Ok but you're gonna have to ask me questions, though. I don't know where to start."

"Perfect. Where do you live?"

His neck does a ninety-degree turn with such a lightning speed that I'm scared he broke a bone or two. "I knew you were stalking me!" he exclaims as if he had made a scientific discovery.

I smack my lips impatiently. "Just answer the damn question!"

"Two blocks from here."

"That means the coffee shop is close to your house, right?"

"I live in an apartment, " he adds and gives a curt nod before his attention is back to me. "Okay, my turn now. Did you ever go to college?"

Not this shit again. If I hadn't been attracted to his ridiculously good looks, he would be rubbing at a sore spot in between his eyeballs. "Goodness, child. You really are stubborn."

"Hey, it's only fair if you keep asking me questions, " he protests and instead of angering me, the harmless expression turns my insides into jelly. I was finding it hard to keep up with the constant appearances of his duality. It was weird. I barely knew this guy and I still told him things so strictly personal that I'd never thought I'd say out loud.

" I dropped out of college after the first year. Couldn't afford it."

And just like that, the jolly, playful countenance disappears to be replaced by a darker one. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I dropped too, " he continues. " Guess studies weren't exactly my thing."

"Oh wow. We have so much in common."

A pause.

"Where's your family?"

I was starting to think this kid was more interested in my personal life than me as a person. "Back home."

He doesn't say anything, waiting for me to explain further and unfortunately, I fall prey to his puppy eyes staring at me intently. An uncomfortable ball of imaginary yarn settles at the base of my throat. I try to gulp it down while fighting to keep the slight tremble in my voice from showing. " They...did some things to me. Bad things. I'm never going back."

He notices my discomfort, bless his soul, and decides to drop it. "My parents live far from here and I don't visit them as much. So yeah, that sucks."

His poor attempt at sympathizing with me makes my lips crack into a subtle grin. "Are all parents bad or are we just awful teenagers?"

"Both, I guess, " he chuckles.

Just when I assume the twenty-one question game has finally come to an end, he proves me wrong for the bazillionth time. "Is there anyone you hang out, at least?"

"You, " I answer.

His eyes widen twice their original size and I laugh through my nose. "Just kidding. I have a friend called Anna. Such a nice, caring and sweet girl." My lips twitch on the side to impersonate a somber smile but I had the feeling it looked like I was having a nervous tick. "She's to die for."

Time is cruel to us, swallowing up each patch of daylight until the sky has turned into the purest baby blue and let the rays of sunlight fall astray into our poor backs. The heat and the exhaustion makes us slow our pace. Then, suddenly a sharp pain stabs me across my knee and I wince discreetly.

"Do you go to work?" Juan asks, oblivious to my current torture.

"No, I quit, " I say, refusing to admit that the reason for that hadn't really been my choice. "Why'd you ask?"

"Well, it's just that—" He abruptly stops and his eyes shift their attention to my legs, staring hard at them.

"What?"

"You're bleeding, " he states, matter of factly.

I snap my head down and take note of the way my knee is soaked in a dark red stain, slowly webbing its tendrils along the fabric."Aw shit, " I curse under my breath.

"You need to go to the hospital, " Jungkook quickly intervenes before a long string of profanities can spill over my lips.

"No. No more hospitals. I'll just go home and put some fresh bandages on it."

"Okay, well let me come with you."

I take a step back and shake my head from side to side. "For the last time, I don't need your help, Juan. Here are my key—" I frantically fish my pockets but they're completely empty, save for that stupid paper towel that I had somehow forgotten there. "Fuck no! Fuck no!"

Juan's brow bunches up in distress as his judging eyes give me a hard stare. "You already made that joke once."

"I'm not joking around, you idiot!" I snap, probably a bit too harsh but the panic seems to have gotten under my skin for me to care at this point. "I forgot my keys!"

So, that's what kept nagging me in the morning. I mentally slap myself for being such a careless mess and vow to not make the same mistake again.

"Let's go to the hospital, " Juan calmly repeats, seemingly unaffected by my sudden burst of anger. I wonder if he was hiding his hurt on the inside. If that was true, I'd have to give him a round of applause because he was sure doing a hell of a good job.

"No."

"Do you want to bleed to death?" This time he can't help the hint of anger from seeping into his voice.

I say nothing.

"If you don't want to go to the hospital then come with me back at my place. I have some bandages too."

"Absolutely not!" I protest, outraged. If this kept going on, we would end up at each other's throats.

"Look, it's either that or the hospital. You pick."

Shit. He had me cornered. Well, what was I to say? I liked hanging out with him but I also didn't want him to see me in such a vulnerable state and make me feel indebted to him. It had already happened once and I hadn't liked it not even one bit. "I can't just come at your place, " I say with a lilt of playfulness in my voice. My figure was already frayed at the edges and he was quick to catch sight of it. "What if you're a murdering psychopath in disguise?"

He smiles in earnest, as if I'd just told him he was the nicest guy on the planet. "Then you can always stab me with a kitchen knife."

This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn't just go to his house, dammit. I was letting my guard down way too much. No way I was doing this.

"Fine, " I finally surrender and wish I'd bitten my tongue in time before the word made it past my lips.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

By the time we get to my apartment, the sun has already reached its highest peak in the horizon and the powerfully bright rays start to make me feel a bit wobbly.

I had offered Jojo to at least hold on to me but she seemed hellbent on making it by herself. I could see how much the wound was hurting her, yet she refused to let any emotion whatsoever show on her face.

I open the door unceremoniously and pause to let her in first. She carefully shuffles her steps with a heavy limp weighing her down but I could see that she was still having second thoughts on whether to enter a complete stranger's apartment or not. As soon as she passes the threshold, I release a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Her head starts turning from side to side, scanning the interiors of the living room. I suddenly feel self-conscious. Is the place messy? Did I forget to put my socks on the laundry basket? I was worried she would shy away and leave altogether.

"Nice place you got here, " Jojo says with a whistle.

I unconsciously smile but it fades away the moment she plops down onto the couch, ignoring the still-fresh wound on her knee. She even has the audacity to swing her leg over the edge and let it dangle there. So much for shying away.

"I'll go get the bandages, " I announce and retreat into the bathroom, keeping an eye on her from the way back. She gives me a salute before going back to studying the walls with curious eyes.

I hurry up and lock myself up in the bathroom and immediately, the sight of my disheveled look greets me in the mirror. My hair is wild, some strands clinging with sweat onto my temples and some flailing in the air like unmowed grass. My skin glistens with a fine sheen of wetness that makes me itch with discomfort and there's a pink blush settled on my nose and cheekbones. Did I really look like this all morning?

I let the water of the faucet run under my hands and give my face a quick splash. Why am I so nervous, dammit? It's just a girl. I really need to get a hold of myself. The image of her face reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place. I hurriedly grab the bandages from the counter along with some alcohol, cotton pads and a towel.

I take a deep breath and return to the living room with a forced air of nonchalance. "I got the—" I announce but the words falter when I see the empty couch. Where the hell did she go?

"You have very good-looking parents. No wonder where you got the genes, " her voice is heard from the other side of the room and I see her standing by one of the shelves, examining the tiny picture of my mom and dad, smiling at each other while my older brother cuddles my dog's white fur.

"Uh..thanks, " I manage as I scratch my neck.

At this, she turns around and finally looks at me. "Nothing to be shy about, Juan. You're handsome. You don't need glasses to see that."

"I—"

"Alright, are you gonna give me those or not?" she questions with a sly smile, pointing her chin towards the items in my hands and I internally curse from the distraction. Oh, she really did enjoy toying around with me.

I prevent myself from stuttering another word and slowly approach her. She grabs the things from my hands and sits on the couch yet again. Her condition was no better than mine. A single drop of sweat slides from the side of her cheek and travels down her neck in an excruciating slow motion. Her complexion had turned ruddy and her hair stuck to her edges with perspiration. How she had managed to run so hard in that state was beyond me.

I silently hand her the towel first. "Dab your neck with this before you catch a cold."

She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head but accepts it nonetheless, mumbling a "dab on them haters" under her breath.

"What about you?" she asks aloud. "You're literally dripping." As if summoned, another drop of sweat free-falls from my chin and onto the floor.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, " I quickly reply.

"Well aren't you a tough cookie?" she giggles. "Get it? Tough? Kookie? Jungkookie?"

I almost snort. And as if that wasn't enough, the nickname she used made this weird sensation creep onto my stomach.

After she's done drying her skin, she crouches down to take a look at the wound that still kept trickling blood. Her careful fingers roll the dirtied bandage around her knee to reveal such a nasty sight, I almost gasp in surprise. The blood had smeared the skin around the edges and on its center there's a blackish liquid that looks like anything but blood.

"Oh shit, " she whispers, obviously not expecting the wound to be in such a degree. I move forward with worry in my trembling form but she's quick to stop me."No, it's okay. I got it."

"But it looks really ba-"

"Thanks Juan, but I said I can handle it."

I silently get back and let her do the work herself. She seemed so used to this process, as if she had done it countless of times before. Her hands are quick and agile, snatching the alcohol and cotton pads and then proceeding to wrap brand new bandages around her knee. Not a single hiss or whine falls from her lips. After she successfully finishes, she lifts her head to gift me a charming innocent smile. As if she hadn't just split her knee open. This girl...

After that, the room falls into an awkward silence so I keep looking everywhere else but her. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"Once a waiter, always a waiter, " she sighs while scratching her forehead.

"Okay, what do you have?"

"Let me check," I announce and head to the fridge without another word. I examine the contents within and yell from across the room. "Um... coke?" "I don't do drugs, " she yells back.

"As in the drink, Jojo."

"Oh. What kind?"

"The regular one."

"No diet coke?"

"No. Sorry."

"Okay, just get me a glass of water."

I come back with the glass and hesitate a split second before handing it to her.

"I really like your place, Juan," she says after a tiny sip. "Its so....you."

A discouraged laugh escapes from me. "You don't even know me."

"Says who? I'm excellent at knowing people's personalities on first sight, " she continues after another sip.

"What about you then?" I suddenly ask.

"My place or my personality?"

"Both."

She considers it a moment before answering. "Well, both suck compared to you. Especially my apartment, Juan. You wouldn't believe the fucking mess I make all the time."

She sounded nonchalant about the matter but I could sense the discomfort behind the words. She was having it harder than she let on.

"What are you gonna do from now on?" I ask, careful not to sound intrusive. "You lost your job right? How are you gonna pay your rent?

She plasters a smile on her face. "I'll figure something out."

Before I can push it further with my vast myriad of questions, she rises from the couch and sets the glass on the table. " Well, I better go now. Thanks for the help, Juan. I'll see you around."

I watch with frozen limbs as she makes her way towards the door with that tilt on her step and wonder if I really was crazy after the next words I hear coming out of my mouth.

"Wait!"

She slowly turns around and gives me a curious look.

"I have a proposal, " I say before I can regret it.

She grins in response. "Thanks but I'm too young to get married."

"No, not that. I was wondering... I mean if you want to...." I've never felt more nervous in my life. My words keep stumbling into one another and I can barely keep the the inexplicable stutter out of my voice. "You can—you can work at the coffee shop with me. I can convince my boss to get you the job."

She smiles and pivots on her heel. " Yeah, right."

"Hey, I'm serious."

"Forget it, " she says without turning around.

"Why forget it? Aren't you struggling?"

For a moment it seems like I've caught her attention. She pauses in her steps and slowly turns around until she's completely facing me. There are no more hints of smiles or amusement. Just a blank expression that for some reason looks sadder than anything else. "I don't want your pity."

"Its not pity, " I protest. "We've been short of staff anyway and you need a job. It's a win-win for both of us."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out just as harshly. "Why are you doing this, Juan? The hospital and the bandages and everything... Why are you helping me?"

"I like helping people, " I simply reply.

"Some people don't like to be helped."

"Well, if you think that, you're an idiot!" I snap as a pinch of anger sneaks into my voice.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Look, " I continue. "I don't know if I've done something wrong or if you just don't like people in general. I was just trying to help. If you don't want it, the door's right there."

Okay, now I really fucked up. I'd never been so straight-forward to someone before but it was like her sharp jabs had forced the harsh words right out of my mouth. Sometimes, the frustration overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't tell right from wrong.

She's frozen in her spot, wide eyes staring at me in a mix of shock and wonder. But then, her eyes slowly drag along my body, giving me a once-over before setting on my face. Her lips crack into a lopsided grin that was anything but innocent. "I like you, Juan, " she says and heads for the door before pausing on the threshold. "And I'll think about your offer."

The door closes shut behind her and just like that, she's gone.

~ JOJO ~

There's no way I'm doing this, I say to myself as I take a hot shower. No fucking way, I repeat as I get dressed and tighten my shoelaces. I felt like a mere sheep heading to meet the butcher's axe. But the sheep was making this choice herself. She was willing.

I was afraid the boy had put a spell on me. I'd never been so weak-hearted and obedient to someone's requests. Here I was, going to that cursed coffee shop even after all the fights with Anna last night. She kept persuading me to stay inside, lock myself up in my room and not talk to anyone for the next week or so. She'd never been the social type, the bitch.

Most people said it was like a voice in your head urging you to do whatever it wanted, but that was not the case at all. If the concept of Ana was that unrealistic it wouldn't be so hard to label it as just another link into the shackles of mental disturbances but the thing was, there was that doubt that made you hesitate on whether these were actually your thoughts that made you behave this way or something actually real and tangible. The feeling of something not claiming its existence but still lingering like a shadow on your every step.Is it me or her?Who said that?

I shake my head violently to clear my thoughts as I find myself in front of the shop's entrance.The floor seems to wobble beneath my feet and I doubted whether it was just because of the fact that my stomach had crumpled in itself like a sheet of paper.

I clear my throat loudly to capture the attention of the man hunched on the counter.He slowly lifts his head as an automatic smile appears on his face. “Yes?"

I steady my posture. "I'm looking for someone named Jungkook. He works here."

His eyebrows almost touch his hairline but he's quick to recollect himself. "Oh, sure. He's in the back fixing some stuff. I'll go get him for you."

He disappears behind a door and comes back two seconds later with the reason of my sleepless nights by his side.

"You're here!" Jungkook exclaims, a little too loud for my liking. He seemed slightly surprised, as if he hadn't thought I would actually come. Couldn't blame the guy. There were times when traces of bipolarism would make it hard for people to understand what I actually meant.

Jungkook's open-lipped smile is almost contagious. He tramples his way forward and stops just an inch further, towering over me.The all-black outfit was present even today but this time an apron adorns his slim waist.

"I am, " I simply add.

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is Kwan, " he says as he gestures toward the smiley man. "We've been working together since I can remember."

I flick my eyes to the latter and nod a salute at him. "You should've called this place 'Juan and Kwan'. Quite catchy, if you ask me."

The man named Kwan chuckles. "She's funny. Where did you find her, Jungkook?"

"Oh, I'm the one who found him, " I intervene. "Besides, we've met before. I'm the green tea girl."

His eyes slightly widen with a sense of realization as he nods along. Ironically enough, my stomach whines so loudly to the point where even Jungkook hears it. He points a finger at it. "You really need to shut that thing up."

I look down to my stomach and talk to it as if it were a real person. "Hey thing, shut up. Juan doesn't like the way you sound."

"Did you even eat anything on the way here? There are some cupcakes if you want, " Jungkook insists with the tone of a concerned mother.

"I'm not hungry, Juan. Must be uhh... my seven month-old baby."

Jungkook shakes his head in surrender and asks for me to follow him behind the same room he came from. My nervousness raises tenfold as a bunch of unpleasant thoughts immediately rush into my brain. If I didn't get this job, I could say goodbye to normalcy. I would fall down the hole dug by my own hands and never come back out. All the hard work of these past months out in the trash.

"Don't worry, " Jungkook reassures. "You'll do great."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

She was bursting with joy. It was like her face had been washed in the late afternoon sunlight, illuminating its every corner. She wasn't ridiculously beautiful or anything like that but there was something so captivating about watching that smile brighten up her features like a glorious sunrise, I could barely keep myself from staring.

However, one thing I learned about her was that she really knew how to celebrate. Her hands are struggling to hold all the groceries she'd gotten at the supermarket. Well...if you could call them groceries. All I could see were tons of candies and deserts and all sorts of sugary stuff able to furnish a dozen sweet-toothed five year-olds.

But the thing that baffled me the most is that she'd invited me at her place to thank me for the new job. I thought after all the fights she'd put up to keep me far and away she wouldn't give in so easily. Guess I'd been wrong.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry. " I watch her chew on a chocolate-covered donut that gave me diabetes just by looking at it.

"If there's one thing you need to know about me, Juan, is that I change my mind way too often, " she mumbles in between mouthfuls.

"Yeah I can see that, " I add.

"Hey, shut up now, will you? We need to celebrate!"

"By eating trash?"

"They say you are what you eat, " she replies.

I angrily grab the grocery bags from her hands and let her lead the way to her apartment. "Don't call yourself that. "

The jokes she constantly jabbed could be hilarious to someone else but they just did not sit well with me. I only found them as extremely self-deprecating and dark. It was the go-to type of thing for the depressed and people were so used to normalizing them, it was hard to point it out from time to time.

Her mouth pauses chewing as she gives me a hard but harmless stare. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

"Do what?"

The deep sigh she lets out through her nose tickles my eyelashes. She stops in front of the door and leans her back on it. "You keep being nice even when I annoy you."

"You don't annoy me, " I say quietly.

"Yes I do. I annoy everyone." Another sigh. "You know, Juan, all my life I've been treated like a joke. Yeah, I joke around a lot so I'll get joked at. Understandable. But like, no one has treated me the way you do before. You listen to what I have to say and give me honest answers and most importantly, you are serious when you need to be."

"Isn't that how everyone is supposed to be?"

"No. If I told someone I'm feeling sad they'll laugh at my face 'cause they think I don't have the right to feel anything."

"Well, fuck them, " I snap.

Her jaw almost drops to the floor. "Woah! I've never heard you swear before. That was low-key hot. Do it again."

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and fumble with the edge of my T-shirt. Out of all the things she could've said..."Um...shit?"

The disappointment washes over her face as she scoffs and shakes her head disapprovingly. "Fucking rookie".

It is quiet for a few moments, save for the slight creak of the yellow door opening wide enough to finally offer me a front seat view of her apartment. I'd been strangely curious about what it would look like, eager to get to know more about where she lived, where she slept, what things the was interested in and no matter the weird turn my thoughts had taken I couldn't help but crave for more.

She lets me pass the threshold and takes the grocery bags from me to put them on the kitchen counter. The place reeked of lemons, their acrid stench filling the air to the point where it made my nose itch. I spot a few loose skins and other remnants by the table.Except for that, everything looked pretty much normal. Plain and bare of excessive decorations but I could see that she'd made efforts into putting her own preferences out in the open, littering the walls and ceiling. She liked minimalism, I could see.

"Did you throw a lemonade party last night?" I ask with the tiniest bit of chuckle tumbling from my mouth.

Her eyes flick to the evidence and I sense something I'd never witnessed so boldly in them before. Panic. "Oh, t-that..." she nervously stutters but it's gone in a blink as she quickly gains her composure. "Just an experiment. I love science." I hum in agreement and eye the couch on my right. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. Make yourself at home. But I have to warn you there's nothing on the fridge so you're left with these, " she says, giving the sweet goodies a single heave.

"Oreos, please." I stretch my hand across and a huge grin pulls at the edges of her lips.

We spend the next few minutes sitting in silence, munching cavities away like they were our last meal. It was surprising to say that it did not for a moment feel weird nor awkward. We barely knew each other and yet we seemed like two old pals seeking comfort into each other's presence.

"My place sucks, doesn't it?" she suddenly asks.

"Not really, " I reply. "I think it's pretty."

A confused frown appears on her face as she keeps munching on a chocolate bar. "How come?"

"Well, beauty is subjective, Jojo. What looks pretty in my eyes may not be the same for you."

"Deep words for a teenager, " she mumbles.

"Look who's talking."

"Yeah, yeah..." She waves her hand dismissively but I don't miss the tiny smirk hidden in her cheeks.

The grocery bags start to slowly empty. I was worried she was gonna make herself sick with all the sugar already flowing in her body.

She suddenly gets up and stretches, reaching with the tips of her fingertips up to the ceiling. Her hoodie rides up and I almost gasp in surprise. There are several marks littering the thin stripe of exposed skin, some dark, some purple and some turning yellowish. They made such a stark contrast with the pale white complexion that didn't exactly match the tone of her face. She'd obviously never worn anything too revealing, the sun rays far from tanning the skin. Before I can gawk my eyes out, it's gone in an instant when the hoodie falls back in place.

"This shit's addicting, " she says pointing at the leftovers on the table.

I could only wonder if she really had more problems than she let on. From what I'd gathered, she'd subtly admitted to being a victim of domestic abuse but that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Why were there still fresh scars on her body? As if to add on to my assumption I take notice of her bandaged hand.

"Where's that friend you mentioned?" I ask. "Was it Annie...Ann?"

Her eyes flick back to mine. "You mean Anna? She's always here for some reason. I consider more like family, to be honest. Never leaves my side. Just not today."

There was something fishy about the way Jojo's eyes turned glassy and distant every time she mentioned her friend. It kept rubbing me the wrong way.

I ask her to use the restroom and she shows me the way in a few curt gestures. As soon as I get inside, I am met with my distorted reflection on the mirror. A huge web blossomed into the side. Someone had cracked it, that part was fairly obvious.

What the hell was wrong this girl?

I wash my hands mindlessly and return to the living room. Jojo sits on the couch, man-spreading like a fourty-year old man on his second divorce. She winces once or twice and exhales through her nose. " I think I ate too much, " she whines.

"You think?"

"It's all your fault. You're the one who convinced me to eat, " she accuses.

"Well, I certainly didn't tell you to eat junk." I join her on the couch from a fair distance as she sulks away the nausea.

"What happened to your mirror?" I softly ask.

"I punched it, " she answers without looking.

"Why?"

"There was a fly on it and it kept buzzing while I was taking a shit."

I didn't believe that for a second but I nod my head nonetheless. From that moment on, she only adds to the dark jokes and I pretend to fall for them. All until the moment I require permission to leave with the excuse of having to work again tomorrow.

I can't deny the sick, empty feeling at the pit of my stomach when I watch her follow me with her sad stare as I leave the apartment .

~ JUNGKOOK ~

The days go by smoothly. It took a while for Jojo to get the hand of it, but soon enough, the orders look like mere tools in her hands, bending to her will. Thank goodness, she had the conscience not to lash out at rude customers even though I could see how hard she strained the muscles of her forearms by her sides. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave the coffee shop. All that and she still kept to her strict schedule, running every day at the crack of dawn. Every single day. Even I didn't work out that much.

I had to admit that my interest for her kept increasing more and more with every new detail I noticed. I was intrigued to find out more about her and I strangely found myself being pulled to her presence like a magnet. We'd continued our shared runs and conversations on each other's apartments more often than I remembered but there was still no progress on our status. Well, I once called her my friend and she didn't object to it so that must be a start.

"Well, someone's got a new crush."

I rip my eyes off Jojo's figure and come face to face with Kwan's amused stare. "What?"

"You like her, don't you?" Kwan teases further.

I sigh deeply and put my apron on the counter, ready for my lunch break. "I don't know, honestly, " I admit. "I'm not sure what it is, exactly."

"Listen, I know a crush when I see one and yours definitely is . Why don't you ask her out?"

"It's complicated."

Before Kwan can torture me with his long string of questions, Jojo stomps her way toward us with closed fists. "I swear to God if that bitch asks for a menu one more time..."

"Hey, hey we talked about this, " Kwan interferes. "Deep breaths. In and out."

She does what she's told a couple of turns and then rests her hand on her hip. "Nope. I'm still angry. I have to punch something."

"No violence in our workplace, Jojo."

She pouts in distaste and then suddenly her eyes land on mine. Her hand reaches out and points at my chin. "You got a little something.."

I dip my vision down only to be met with her index and middle finger giving my head a hard flick. She erupts in teasing giggles, soon joined by Kwan's booming laughter.

"Gotcha! Bro, I feel better already, " she says and gives Kwan a manly fist bump. I shake my head in surrender, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips and head for the room on the back. I hear the swish of Jojo's apron on the counter as she soon falls into my steps. We had a ten minute break everyday and Jojo was never one to miss it, always deciding to share that precious time with me. She kinda ruined it with the jokes sometimes but I didn't really mind.

She offers me a slice of cucumber trapped on the sharp edge of her knife and I politely decline. She always did that, sharing food left and right even though most of the times it wasn't even that much to begin with.

"Wanna hangout after work?" I suddenly ask. I hadn't planned this at the slightest. It was like the words jumped right out of my throat. Sure, we'd hung out before but only on days off and certainly not on evenings.

She hesitates for a moment before chewing on the cucumbers. "Sure, why not? It's Sunday tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, " I admit.

"Cool."

I try not to let the excitement show on my face as I finish the last bits of my lunch. The late afternoon takes longer than usual to arrive. By the end of the shift, I'd been itching to get the apron off. Jojo, on the other hand seems unbothered. For her it was probably just another day with the bane of her existence. She nudges her elbow into my side as we exit the doors together, throwing a glance at the bike by the side of the road. She would ride that thing here everyday even though the memories of the accident were still fresh. "I'll just leave it here tonight, " she says, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't wanna make your sorry ass struggle to keep up with me."

I give her a teasing light push and pull at a string on her hair. "Fuck off."

We go for a series of playful kicks and thrashes that turn milder and milder with every inch we come closer to my apartment. By the point we've reached the door, my poor hair is being twisted like a rope in her cruel hands. She really liked touching my hair. She kept saying she'd braid it or put it in a ponytail at least once before she died. Me on the other hand had scolded her for mentioning death in the first place.

"Ok, but you have to let me style it for you, " she insists, never dropping the issue.

"No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is, " I reply in feigned smugness.

"Asshole, " she mumbles under her breath.

"What?"

"I said Casserole. I'm craving some."

My eye creases soften on their own. "I can make it for you if you want."

"You know how?"

"No, but I can look it up online."

At that, a shy smile brushes her features. "Nah, it's alright. I think about all sorts of food all the time. I'd probably change my mind after five minutes."

She plops down on the couch comfortably and groans when the bones of her back click to let her unwind. The way she'd grown more and more comfortable around me gave me this weird sense of satisfaction, as if I'd been seeking for that validation from the start. In fact, our whole situation was weird. I enjoyed her company and hopefully the feeling was mutual but there was still something missing. I didn't know exactly what but I certainly knew that deep down she was hiding a whole different personality.

My apartment had become so familiar to her, she doesn't hesitate to let me know without much further ado that she'd be using the restroom. But just before fully rising, she types something down on her phone with the utmost concentration. The only reason why it attracted my attention was the excessive amount of times she'd done that for today. And yesterday. And days before that. It would take one bite of her food and she'd immediately reach for her phone.

Did she use a calorie tracker?

I curse myself enough to damn my soul to hell for the rest of eternity but it still doesn't stop my hand from shakily grasping the phone lying on the couch. I draw the pattern I'd memorized from watching her unlock it all those times and just like that, the Notes app lights back into life. My eyes widen with every single line I read.

Day 35 I fucked up today. I had three donuts for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The cravings are fucking horrible. Total : 1560 cals

I scroll down to some days back.

Day 34 I wouldn't say it's bad. I went for a run and had an apple afterwards. Take that Anna, you whiny bitch! Total: 78 cals

There's a visible pattern in the notes; wins, losses,relapses. My eyes scan the screen speedily, fleeting through each letter and word.

Guess what? I fucked up again—

I hate myself—

I did not eat anything today! Nothing, I tell you! Haven't felt this empty since—

I so wanna die right now—

Please make it stop—

Day 71 No comment

Day 72 No comment

No comment

No comment—

"That's my phone, you know."

I raise my head to level my blown-out pupils with her calm ones. Unperturbed. Smooth like waves in a gentle breeze. She doesn't look angry to witness my shameless snooping, just disappointed. She knows that I know. It all makes sense now. The scars, the small meals, the excessive workouts...I feel a pang in my chest for being such a fool all this time.

I muster whatever courage left within me and rasp out the words. "Who exactly is Anna?"

~ JOJO ~

"She's a bitch."

"An imaginary bitch, " Jungkook emphasizes.

"Doesn't make her less of a bitch, " I mumble.

He has been giving me a cold yet sympathizing stare for the last five minutes but I knew that deep inside he was bashing himself for not knowing.

"It's short for Anorexia, " I clarify.

"How long has this been going on?" Jungkook continues. He didn't seem like giving up on the detective role anytime soon. Little did I know that he would fully embrace the title.

"Three years."

His head drops in his hands. He gives his pretty face a hard rub before turning it back towards me, eyes now laced with something similar to compassion.

"Why aren't you looking at me like that?" I ask him.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some sort of freak."

"You're not a freak, " he grits between his teeth.

"But that's what everyone would say if I told them. I know they'll look at me differently."

"I'm not everyone."

He was right. He wasn't everyone. That's why I kept dropping hints on him with every chance I could get. I wanted him to know but then again I didn't want him to know. It was hard to explain.

Jungkook keeps his piercing stare on me, hoping to get a reaction. Then he pats the spot next to him on the couch as a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. It made him look so adorable, I decided right there and then I would do whatever he said. Just asking would be enough.

"What's it like?" he asks as soon as I make myself comfortable.

"My disorder?"

He nods.

I think for a few moments before answering. How was I supposed to to explain it? It had been by my side for such a long time, I didn't know how to tell my disease and myself apart.

"Well, to begin with, I'm fat."

Come on. Say it. Come on.

His eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. "No, you're not."

There you go.

"You look pretty normal to me, " he continues.

"Normal is just another word for "you're fat but I don't wanna say it in your face, " I spit and it only makes him look more confused. "Oh, come on. I bet the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about anorexia was a skinny pale girl looking at a mirror. See? I knew it. In people's eyes anorexia and non-skinny people do not correlate."

Jungkook looks embarrassed to say the least. I know he's trying his best to find a gentle way around me but the deep crimson of his cheeks doesn't make it any easier for him. "I—"

"Look, Juan. I don't wanna overwhelm you with my bullshit. I'm sick in the head, okay? The things I do are not cool and I don't want you to be part of it."

"I thought we were friends..." he whispers in a low voice.

"We are but—"

"Just explain it to me, please. I'll help you get rid of it."

He really had no idea. His gullible self couldn't understand that this was not just a disorder. It was a lifestyle and the only way I knew how to survive. I release a sigh of defeat and try to muster the most joyful tone. "Fine. You wanna know what it's like? I'll tell you what it's like. Every day, I get up from that bed with the sole purpose of starving. I don't want to eat. It's that simple. Now you're probably thinking: ' why the fuck aren't you dead yet?' That's because I can't starve correctly, Juan. I can't do shit."

Jungkook keeps his unwavering stare directed towards my face and hands that passionately make weird gestures from time to time. I notice something sparking within me, a small flare of anger and pent up frustration finally getting some release. Saying the words out loud was unnerving. I'd never imagined them anywhere but on the interiors of my head.

"Numbers are important. I can't tell the difference even if I lost some weight. That's why I use the scale everyday."

"What do you usually eat?" Jungkook carefully asks.

"Anything that has low calories in it. But it doesn't last long and I'll immediately eat junk food three times the amount. Starve. Binge. Starve. Binge. It's a vicious cycle."

"Why don't you try a healthy diet?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, you're richer than I thought."

He blinks. "What? Why?"

"Healthy diets are expensive, dumbass. Ever wondered how rich people have those avocado diets and that type of shit? But that's just an excuse. The real reason is that I lack will."

"If you lacked will, you'd be dead by now."

"That's where I'm heading."

His head falls in his hands again and those pretty smooth lips mumble under his fingers. "You're not satisfied with your body?"

"Not satisfied is an understatement. I hate my body. It's hard to explain actually. I don't want to be sick to the point where I can't even stand but I don't want to be curvy either , you know what I mean? Its like I want a thin body but then I see a muscular one and I'm like ooh I want that one too and I don't know..."

Jungkook's eyes seem to sparkle on that. "So, you want a lean muscular body?

"Yes."

"That's not so hard to achieve."

I put up my best fake surprised-expression. "No shit, sherlock. Why didn't you just say so? You would've saved me from a lot of trouble."

"Fuck you, " he grumbles.

"I'm already fucked for life my man."

His deep sigh tickles my face. "You're impossible. How can you joke about this?"

"Then what am I supposed to do? Cry about it? Trust me, I've tried that a lot of times. It won't do shit. If I laugh about it, it won't be as shitty, " I add. "But jokes aside, it's not just about being thin. Its also about being in control, being aware of your own body. I feel so angry and frustrated every time I lose my streak."

To my surprise, he smirks in such an inappropriate way, it paints his face in a whole new canvas . "Don't worry. There are some situations where control just isn't needed."

I almost choke on my spit. Jungkook, being audacious? Well that was new. "Feeling bold, Juan?" I tease.

"Maybe, " he admits but now it had turned into what seemed like a shy smile. I try to latch onto that glimpse of humor and normalcy in hopes of taming the wild turns and takes of our conversation. But just when I thought I'd taken hold of it, Jungkook jumps into a new question. "What else can you tell me?"

I highly doubted I would be able to spill the contents of my soul in such a short time but if he was so hellbent on knowing more, knowing he would get." I can tell you a lot of things but I can also guarantee they're not pleasant."

He doesn't even blink.

"Fine. You asked for it." I pause. " I've been like this for three years now and it has only gotten worse as time passed. I already know what you've seen online and what you think eating disorders are. Trust me, it's bullshit. Don't believe the shit they give you. Do you know how many overweight people are anorexic? A whole bunch of them but if they tell anyone about it they'll get laughed at 'cause apparently anorexia exist only for skinny white girls. A lot of guys have it too. But they call it cutting back some pounds when they hit the gym. No way that's unhealthy, right? Totally justified. It's all just a big pile of shit. There's nothing cute or romantic about it. You know what's funny? I can go for days without taking a shit but I'll pee every two hours. I drink so much water to the point where it makes me sick. I never get warm. I take every single bite counting numbers in my head and wondering how I'll burn it off later, I spin in circles to make myself sick just so I won't be able to eat, I measure my waist three times a day and I feel like fainting every time I get up. I hurt myself 'cause I don't like what I see."

I feel that familiar ball of imaginary yarn settle to the base of my throat but I push it back down just as fast. Not now. Anytime but now.

Jungkook's eyes glint with sadness. He gulps once before lowering his vision and choosing to stare at the hands resting on his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, " I reply. " It's not your fau—"

His hand shoots out to capture my own. A thousand tiny electric sparkles tingle up my arm. Maybe it's the lack of contact or just the knowledge that it's him but the way his warm palm fits into mine feels so right and I can't move it away for the life of me. His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. "I'm not pitying you, okay?" he says in a gentle voice. "I would never pity you. I just don't want to see you like this."

I lift my eyes to his own and stare at him like he was a glass statue, pouring some of his brightness on me. I didn't understand why he hadn't kicked me off yet. And to think that I was enjoying it...

Jungkook observes the slight tremor of my hand in his, which I'm desperately trying to hide and a subtle smile graces his lips. "You're touch starved, " he murmurs. Not in a malicious way. Not mocking me for it. Just stating things out in the open. It was the quality I liked the most about him.

"Physical contact is a luxury to me," I admit.

"It shouldn't be. You're human."

"I'm not even sure about that anymore."

The smile stretches wider as his nimble fingers intertwine with my trembling ones in a gentle, yet firm grip.

"Is this okay?" he questions, eyes set on the motion.

"No, but carry on."

It all felt like a guilty pleasure, like those sweet candies your mother keeps hiding from you and when you do find them, the taste is but absolute bliss. A forbidden fruit. I knew I shouldn't be leading him anywhere and spoil his peaceful life with my problems but I couldn't make myself pull back either. I was all of a sudden caught up between two fires that would scorch me and themselves in the end. Pushing people away or letting them in the confines of my chaos. I would lose either way.

I put on my best unperturbed mask to make it known I wasn't affected at the very least but just like that, his other hand slides up to my elbow and locks it in place. His deep look burns with something I can't quite decipher. "Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asks.

I freeze for a split second but try to shake it off with an intentional raise of my eyebrow. "Why?"

"I want to, " he breathes.

I was torn between slapping some sense into him and laughing my ass off but I do neither. My posture stays unmoving, waiting. "Do you really want to?" I ask again.

"Yeah, " he confesses and I catch his eyes glancing down to my lips.

I shrug. "Okay."

I've barely gotten the word out when he closes the small distance in a matter of seconds. A hand latches onto my jaw to angle it better and that's where I feel the soft, plushy texture of his lips come into contact with mine. They're so delicate and move so gently, I feel like I've ascended into time and space. I let his bangs tickle my cheekbones because it obscured his eyes from view and I didn't want to witness the reality of it.

Before I can dwell longer on them, he pulls back, forming the smallest of distances. His pupils are blown out, dark eyes staring with something more than just interest. I take notice of my fist bunching up the T-shirt he's wearing. Apparently, I hadn't been able to block out all my reactions. I release the material immediately and rise to my feet. A quick glance at the window showed that it was already dark.

"Good night, " I chirp and grab my phone resting on the table, heading speedily for the door.

Jungkook panicks and stands up just as fast. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Home," I reply.

His eyebrows bunch up in confusion yet again. "You can't just go like that after I kissed you."

"Watch me."

In less than four strides I've crossed the threshold and shut the door behind me with a thump. People were right when they said you couldn't see yourself blush but you could feel it. My whole face felt like it was on fire, an uncomfortable warmth spreading equally up to the tips of my ears. Who the fuck even blushes anymore?

I smack my lips in annoyance as I make my way down the stairs in a newfound rush. I cant deny it. I liked the kiss. Maybe a little too much. In fact I wanna go back there and steal the breath out of his lips. But I can't. It was a one time thing. And it will remain that way. Or at least I hoped so.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

Anorexia nervosa, often referred to simply as anorexia, is an eating disorder characterized by low weight, food restriction, fear of gaining weight, and a strong desire to be thin. Many people with anorexia see themselves as overweight even though they are, in fact, underweight.

Sleep is far from reach as I keep scrolling down page after page of the same generic description. Countless of pics of young girls with ribs and bones sticking out of their pale skin had been more than enough to make my own skin crawl, the after-images blazed forever behind my eyelids. She was right— they all said the same thing but I'd always known that no matter what what was said, you couldn't really understand something without experiencing it yourself first hand.

I put my laptop aside and lay down on the warm comfort of my bed. Even though I'd willed my eyes shut, sleep just wouldn't come. She kept busying my head with all kinds of thoughts— thoughts of her disorder, thoughts of what she was doing right now and the memory of her soft lips on mine. I keep replaying that exact moment like a loop, feeding off my imagination like a middle-schooler. She'd acted like she barely gave a shit but there was no mistakening the furious blush that had fallen across her nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. It looked surprisingly adorable on her, different from any type of reaction I'd gotten in exchange.

I roll over the other side of the bed and smash the back of my head on the pillow. I'm such an asshole. And she's no better either. How can you just leave after someone kisses you?

I leave my mind pondering to these thoughts as my eyelids slowly start to weigh down on me. But just when I'm about to pass out cold, a dark figure intrudes the corner of my eye, causing my body to turn upright.

Jojo's standing by the threshold, dressed up in what looked like loose see-through sleeping clothes. The material fell in graceful waves from the hems and pooled around her ankles. It felt weird not seeing her dressed up in her usual tomboy look but I was enjoying the view nonetheless. Her hair drapes over her shoulder and hides a part of her face, the rest of it, illuminated by the moonlight seeping from the drawn-back curtains. It looked like she'd just awoken, eyes mussed up with sleep but still focused on my form. She stares deeply at me, as if waiting for something.

All traces of exhaustion now wiped clean, I push myself up on my elbows and return the stare. How had she gotten here this late? Did she know my password?

She saunters over to the bed in such a seductively delicate manner but yet it was so subtle, I doubted whether she did it on purpose or not. Her left knee touches the duvet first, making the bed dip slightly under her weight. Then she leans her palm facing down and proceeds to come closer and closer on all fours like a predator targeting its prey. I was like a deer caught in the headlights in the most cliché sense of the word. I kept observing her movements with silent adoration and the more I tried to look away, the harder my eyes seemed to fixate on her approaching form. At some point she's sitting so close to me that I can feel her soft breath fluttering my eyelashes. She slowly tilts her head and gives me a look of mild curiosity, as if puzzled by my existence there altogether.

"Can I touch you?" she softly asks. Her dark orbs bore into mine, waiting for my answer. Such a sheer persuasion is held inside of them that I find myself gulping audibly before nodding without a moment's notice. She comes impossibly closer, almost attaching her body into mine and then raises a hand up to my hair, the small fingers playfully twirling the dark locks. I then notice her own hair falling in curtains in front of her face, slightly obscuring her eyes from view. It makes her look even more mysterious and alluring, I can barely resist the urge to tuck a string back behind her ear.

"Can I do more than just touch you?" she asks again and this time the movement of her hand slows into a halt. The edges of her lips pull slightly in a teasing manner and seem to merge into a coy smile.

My heart starts beating like crazy. I can feel it accelerate into a manic pace as it pulses with an unfaltering heat underneath my fingertips. I muster whatever air left in my lungs and whisper the words in a breeze. "Whatever you'd like."

That's all the approval she needs. She tilts her head on the side and lets the tip of her nose brush my earlobe. The breath she lets go draws from me an involuntary shudder that washes over my body; from the top of my head and down to my toes.

I fist the sheets to the point where it hurts. I wanted to touch her too, to feel her and to breathe her in. But I don't. I decide to let her be the one in control, to let her know that just a word tumbling from her lips would be enough to give her all of me. All that I had.

She drags those sinful lips along the side of my neck painfully slow and then puts her legs on each side of my hips, straddling them. And then she kisses me. Even though barely a peck, it burns scolding hot and causes my lips to burst into a heap of tingles.

My hands find their way into her waist, digging through the material but she stops me with her own and gives my chest a light push. I try to relax and let my back lower till it finally makes contact with the sheets. She hovers above me, graceful strings of hair tickling my neck as she attacks my lips again with bruising strength.

That's when I feel it. My shirt being lifted. Her cold fingertips, in stark contrast with my ridiculously hot skin, leave goosebumps in their wake. I try to reach with my hands and help her get it off but she grabs them and puts them back down. "Don't. I'll do it for you."

She resumes her previous action and sweeps my shirt completely off but not before making sure those nimble fingers slide along my skin with an added pressure. I let her. I let her do whatever she wants with me. She can have me.

I pray silently with my eyes for her to kiss me again and surprisingly, she understands. But this time I can't help the small whine coming deep from the back of my throat as she dips her head down and lets her tongue swipe a sensitive stripe on my neck. I'm scared the sheets will rip into shreds from how hard I'm twisting them.

She doesn't stop. Only goes lower and lower with open-mouthed kisses, down my chest, through the ridges of my abs, all the way to my navel. She stops there and the hard muscle of her tongue moves in a way that makes me gasp out loud. I shut my eyes tight.

When I open them again, the pressure on my tummy slowly dissipates. I drag my eyes to my front but there's no one there. Just the open window swaying the curtains and the entirety of my room swallowed by semi-darkness.

She's not here. It was just a dream.

I sit up on my bed and drag a hand to my face, rubbing it hard to pull myself together. What the hell just happened? I hate myself even more for the fact that I wish it wasn't a dream. I let my head fall back with a thump into the pillows and notice the uncomfortable heat at the bottom of my stomach. "Holy shit, " I whisper.

~ JOJO ~

Sometimes even the most colorful butterflies in your stomach cannot stop the tears from falling. Me, like the miserable human being I was, had cried myself to sleep last night instead of hopping cheerfully around my room. Jungkook's shut eyes and the serene expression on his face when he'd put his lips on mine had only made me wallow into self-doubt even more than usual. Did he actually mean it or had it just been a reflex, something to pass the time? I felt as if I didn't deserve any of the things he offered me, regardless of his intentions. But fuck, did I want to have him. Fuck. I'd never met a more perfect person with all of those tiny imperfections that actually made him real and whole.

That perfect smile that puts all of his pearly white teeth on display shines bright even know as he notices me entering the shop but I don't fail to detect the eyes that shy away in embarrassment. How cute.

"Hey, " he tries to hold the grin from spreading across his face as he scratches his neck awkwardly.

"Hey yourself, " I reply with forced nonchalance. It doesn't work. I fall under the scrutiny of his eyes as he can tell something's off.

"Your eyes are red, " he states matter of factly.

"Last time I checked they were brown."

His face falls. "Don't give me that shit."

Wow. That kiss had definitely given him some confidence. As far as I remembered, swearing was something he found hard to do unless absolutely necessary. Was I getting to him already?

Preparing to start the work, I click my tongue and move into an arc around his back. I let the silence fill the empty slots, too tired to come up with some lame excuse when suddenly, the presence of warm fingers greets the skin of my elbow. I look down to see Jungkook's hand on it, eyes brimmed with genuine worry, something I hadn't seen in a long time. "Is everything alright?" he questions and the words alone make the butterflies in my stomach almost turn into pigeons. "You left all of a sudden last night."

The angle on which he bends his neck to level his eyes with mine makes them stand out so adorably, so bright and full of life, I can barely hold a squeal from ripping out of my throat. He was just standing there in all his glory and looking at me like I was the thing he cared about the most. Maybe I was. Did it sound too far-fetched?

I slowly reach up and twirl one of his dark locks on my forefinger, letting it drag to the side of his cheek as I give it a small poke. I hear the breath that hitches on his throat and it only spurs me on even more. "Why? Did you miss me?"

He doesn't back down, eyes boring into mine with an intensity that deserved some recognition. They occasionally flicker down to my lips and I already know what passes through his mind at this moment.

Someone clears their throat.

I immediately put some distance, eyes dragging to the new intruder only to find Kwan staring at us both with a shit-eating grin. He was gonna use this to blackmail us, I was sure about that but I couldn't care less. Not when Jungkook's eyes follow me without failing as I backtrack a few steps.

"He had something in his hair, " I explain with a faint gesture. Kwan's grin grows impossibly larger but he doesn't say anything, deciding instead to grab one of the glasses and wipe it raw, a habit more than out of intention.

I ignore his teasing remarks for the rest of the day and watch Jungkook's prying eyes from the corner of my vision. He'd throw a glance my way with every chance he got and without even being subtle about it. When it's time for our lunch break, his stare becomes so bashful, I can't help but stare back with an offended glare.

"You're doing it again, " he says before I can part my lips.

"Doing what? " I ask.

"Putting a mask on your face. It's funny but it's bullshit."

More swearing. Was it really possible to change someone for the worst with a few words? The last thing I wanted was for him to follow into my steps.

"There's no need to act cool all the time. If you're not okay, you can just say so." His hands fumble with the edges of his lunch box, fingers scraping at it out of nervousness. "You can say it to me, " he adds more softly. " I'll listen."

"Hey, its not that big of a deal, " I wave him off.

"Not that big of a deal?" he mimicks. "You can die."

"So? What's it to you?"

Jungkook sighs deeply. "Jojo—"

"Are you gonna feed me the classic love yourself bullshit?" I interrupt him before he has the chance to say the words I've heard being trumpeted so many times. "Cause there's no need for that. I already love myself. I mean, sure I would jump off a cliff if I could but I love living. I love life to death."

I'm pretty sure that so called mask he mentioned was glowing with pride right now. Even though deep down I knew it felt wrong, I still—

"You do this on purpose, don't you?" I turn my eyes to him only to see a smug expression that looked so foreign and uncharacteristic on his face. "I know what you're doing. You act rude and sassy and uncaring to fend people off so they won't get attached to you because you think your presence alone harms them." He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his face floats mere inches from mine. "Isn't that right?"

When I don't answer back, his hands cup my knees as he leans so impossibly close that I can count all the dark brown flecks in his eyes. "Hate to break it to you but you can try as much as you want. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

His husky voice brings a smile on my face and I still make no move to put his hands away. "Oh, I can get rid of you. I just don't want to."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

"What do you mean you don't want to? I thought you liked hanging around with me?"

"It's late, Juan."

Jojo grabs the handles of her bike and turns it around in a semi-circle but before she can hop on the seat, I give her hoodie a pull and take over. From the moment I start pedaling, she sighs in exasperation. "Dude, come on, give it back."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, " I quickly reply. "I'm making chicken breasts tonight. Low calorie. You have to come over."

Jojo slowly catches up and we move like that for a while; her walking and me on the bike. It felt strangely relieving to have a moment of peace after a long and exhausting workday. I close my eyes and let the sun rays bask on my face with their warm texture. From the silence that follows, I suppose she's left with no other choice but to give in.

"Watcha thinking about?" I hear her ask after a few moments.

I open my eyes and turn my head towards her. "You."

She snorts. "You've stepped up your game, my man. Glad to see some progress."

"I learned from the best."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were already popular with the ladies way before you met me."

The soles of my feet touch the concrete and I force the bike into a halt. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, " Jojo grins, "there's a girl behind us staring at your asscheeks–"

I choke on my spit.

"–and I mean like I can't exactly blame her because your ass is really looking pretty puffed up in that seat–"

"Anywaaaays, " I drag the word long enough to make her stop and proceed to flick my chin on the side. "Let me give you a ride."

Jojo's whole face dismorphs as her lips twist into a barely contained smile. It takes me a while to get the dirty reference. "Oh come on, " I yell out of frustration. "A ride. On a bike. Here on the street. Out in the ope–"

"Yeah, yeah. Just scoot over."

I do as I'm told and not a moment longer, Jojo tries to get comfortable on the back seat. However, I had a better idea. "Hey, why don't you pass to the front?"

Jojo peeks over my shoulder. "No. We'll fall if I do that."

"No, we won't, " I insist. "Just trust me. I'll keep you safe."

I don't know if those words struck a cord within her because she looks genuinely caught off guard with those big sparkly eyes staring at me in earnest. That's where I understood.

Words have power.

I could help her turn things around for the better. I could help her get back to normal. I could do all of these things and more if only she would crack the door of her soul open just an inch to let me in.

"Okay, " she finally answers in a tone much softer than usual. I scoot back and let her sit on the bike's supporting rod.

"Ugh, my ass is gonna be bruised like hell by the time we get there, " Jojo whines and squirms in discomfort.

Chuckling, I give the pedals a push and soon fall into a constant rhythm. Unfortunately for Jojo, it is hard to keep the balance so she is forced to hold onto my shirt. She barely touches it though. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Don't tell me this is one of those cliché supposedly romantic moments where the girl almost falls and they look into each other's eyes and shit like that."

I keep my eyes on the road. "I mean, it's not so dramatic to begin with. We're just chilling. And for the record, we did kiss so I don't see how just looking at each other can be such a big deal."

"Can't believe you pulled that card on me."

"You deserved it, " I reply in a smug tone.

After another moment of comfortable silence, Jojo's arms snake around my waist and the side of her head leans back on my chest. It feels like holding a baby, warming my body up with the presence of blood and life flowing underneath the skin.

For fear of scaring her away, I decide not to add any teasing remarks on why she changed her attitude in a matter of seconds, despite how tempting it was. If that loneliness she constantly felt was reduced even by a fraction, my job was done.

"Are you sleepy?" I carefully ask.

Her arms squeeze me even tighter. When she rubs her cheek affectionately on the front of my shirt, I fight the urge to erupt into giggles. "No, " she answers. "Just tired."

It would only take some time. Just a little bit more time and all her exhaustion would ripple away with no traces in her body or mind. This was my job from now on.

~ JOJO ~

It wasn't exactly his job to nurture me like a newborn baby but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked this new attention. I'd always tried not to feed my narcisstic side too much but it was a pleasant surprise to find out that someone other than Ana acknowledged my existence. These are the thoughts spinning round my head as I stare at the tiny bow of Jungkook's apron tied up at the small of his back. Or at least that's what I was supposed to be looking at because for the past fifteen minutes, my eyes had been trying not to drag down on the voluptuous planes of his ass that stuck painfully tight to the black jeans he was wearing. It's like the sucker was doing it on purpose, keeping his back to me the whole time.

"I really can't blame that girl for staring at you earlier, " I wonder out loud after the uncomfortable silence becomes unbearable. "With jeans that tight, you're asking for it, my man."

Upon hearing the words, Jungkook turns around with a spatula on one hand and a look of confusion on his face. "Isn't that what men usually say to women?"

"Exactly. But there are way less chances for a man to be sexually harassed by a woman, now isn't there? So don't come at me with that equality bullshit."

A small, understanding smile creeps up on the side of Jungkook's lips and in contrast to my words, it really seems genuine. "True. But that still doesn't make it okay." He turns back to flipping the chicken breasts on the pan.

I sigh. "Yeah, alright. Sorry for complimenting your ridiculously gorgeous butt—"

A snort.

"— but I won't hesitate to slap that shit if you piss me off, Juan. And I won't do it in a kinky way."

At that, Jungkook fully turns around, places the fresh meal onto the table and hurriedly takes a seat. "You're into that sort of thing?"

"Nah, man. I like being normal."

"Normal? You?" Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the emphasis on the word clearly intentional. I understood that something like that was to be expected from people but it didn't mean it didn't secretly hurt my feelings. Being always ousted as the weird one took a mental toll on you and if you ever tried to blend in, it would only make you stand out more.

I let out a noise of impatience. "Listen, here Juan. I might be sick as fuck but my life doesn't revolve around my disorder. I have favorite hobbies and colors and that kind of shit."

"Is it black?" Jungkook jumps in, suddenly curious.

"Navy blue, but that's not the point."

"I know it isn't." He sighs wistfully. "Sorry, Jojo. The only reason I said that is because every five seconds you try to assert your dominance so I assumed your preferences on that particular side were a bit...freakish." His expression is halfway between apologetic and entertained and he seems torn between the two.

Curse my dumbass brain for ever acting on impulse.

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and avert his eyes. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I jumped too fast to conclusions–" I lean my elbow on the table, "–but that's because I'm very athletic."

Jungkook deadpans.

After another uncomfortable silence settles in and after Jungkook realizes he's not getting another word from me, he absentmindedly taps the table with his fingertips. " By the way, same for me, " he mumbles.

"Huh? " I logically reply.

"I have the same preferences as you." He raises his head and looks at me dead in the eye. "Normal."

At this point, I had no idea why we'd decided to reveal our sexual preferences for absolutely no reason but it had come to that. Crazy, right? Me and emo-boy pouring our hearts out to each other...

"So, " Jungkook interrupts my train of thought as he starts chewing on the fresh chicken pieces. "You seem like a competitive person."

"I guess you could say that, " I hum in agreement.

"Well, I have another proposal."

"Like I said, it's too early for me to get married."

The expression he makes as he tries to keep the food from spilling almost causes me to burst out laughing. Even after he's successfully managed to breathe in some air, the faint traces of a phantom smile are still visible.

"I meant a challenge. For you. A bet, to be more exact. Do you like bets?"

"I do, actually."

"Well then. We'll play a game of tic-tac-toe. The rules are simple. If you win, I'll do everything you want for the rest of the day. Now....if I win....." A devilish grin stretches on one side of his face. "You'll practically do whatever I ask you to. It's the same for both cases."

"What's the catch?"

Jungkook leans back in his chair and links his hands on the back of his head. " There's no catch. I like games, that's all."

The satisfied, confident expression he was wearing made it clear that this was not just a simple game. I was sure as hell he had something up his sleeve but that didn't turn me off nor made me back down. Why not let the guy have his own fair share of fun? However, that didn't mean I couldn't at least give things a little twist.

"Okay, then. Take your shirt off."

This time Jungkook really can't help but choke on his chicken breasts, sputtering pieces of food everywhere. One of them barely misses my face.

"What the fuck! Why?" he screeches, hands wildly attempting to clean the mess.

I slowly drift into a smile. "Relax, pretty boy. We're playing the game on your abs.

~ JOJO ~

"This is stupid."

"You're stupid. Now shut up."

Jungkook gives me one last incredulous look before pulling the shirt completely over his head. In all honesty, the sight was to drool for. That swirling tattoo I'd always caught a glimpse of, is now clearly displayed on one part of his chest and on his left side, reaching up to his neck and down to his hipbone. I try to keep my composure as best as I can but some of my facial expressions must have been on point because Jungkook seems to start feeling uneasy. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and scratches the back of his head. I almost feel bad for lightly snorting but then I think better of it. After all, I was allowed to have some harmless fun, right? No biggie.

The ridges of Jungkook's magnificent abdominal muscles come into view as he slowly approaches. His posture is a bit stiff, however. The guy was trying his best to suck his stomach in, in hopes of flaunting his slim waist in the most perfect angle.

"Stop flexing, Juan." I say in a monotonous voice. "I already know you're ripped. "

Caught in the act, he shyly smiles and lowers his eyes. "Sorry."

The smile only grows further when I use a marker to draw the lines for the game on his stomach. He squirms and twitches with every flick of my wrist. Apparently, ticklish was another adjective to add onto the dictionary of my names for him.

After a rough sketch is drawn on his tummy, Jungkook gestures for me to make the first move. "Ladies first, " he says with a grin that almost looked pained. His eyes follow my hand that had been finishing the last touches.

I draw an X.

He draws an O.

We move back and forth, exchanging the marker every time, until I realize.

I'm fucked.

He had me cornered in both rows. Wherever I put my next mark, I would still lose. It was an old technique that everyone had used at some point but my dumb ass had fallen right into the trap. But was I really to blame with him looking at me like that?

Jungkook chuckles. "I win."

Fuck. I'm screwed.

"Looks like you're gonna be my servant for the rest of the day. " He throws a careless glance at the windows, pitch dark background already behind them. "Or should I say, night?"

I sit back down on the chair and man-spread in defeat. "Fine. You won. Congratulations. Now what do you want me to do?"

He doesn't even hesitate, his voice as clear as glass. "Kiss me."

I stare at him in disbelief but it didn't seem like there had been a slip of the tongue. He was dead serious with those hooded eyes and the fact that he hadn't even put his shirt back on was for some reason unnerving.

A scoff escapes from me. "Out of all the things you could've asked.... I thought you were gonna make me clean your kitchen or something."

"Oh ,we have plenty of time for that, " Jungkook replies with a newfound smugness.

I mull it over in my head for a second before slowly rising from the chair. He leans forward in anticipation and it's as if his every fiber feels ready to pounce in action.

I honestly found it hard to comprehend the concept behind all of this. Out of all the nice looking girls out there, he found a dirty looking rag called me? Me?!

I give my head a slight shake and reach up with the tips of my toes. I listen to Jungkook's breathing stagger for a moment, only to be released with disappointment when I touch my lips to the side of his cheek, furthest from his two plumps of pink rosy flesh. Jungkook's expression looks slightly annoyed as I pull back, observing the ruins left in my wake.

"That's not exactly what I was thinking, " he laughs to himself, half out of disappointment half out of disbelief.

"You never specified where to kiss you, " I explain.

There had been nothing forcing me to act the way I did. Absolutely no one but myself yet I still felt like something was missing. Like I wasn't enough for him or any other person. My mind kept lying to itself, in the hopes that if I could avoid being too touchy, he probably would forget about me altogether.

Jungkook, bless his soul, gets rid of the awkwardness in a moments's notice, his cheeks puffed up in what resembled a pout. "You played me good, huh?" he huffs and I hold the urge to laugh like a little girl. It felt weirdly cute to see him so worked up over a small rejection when he could make any girl fall in his arms with just a snap of his fingers.

I lower my voice in a mockingly deep baritone. "What are your next orders, my lord?"

Jungkook smiles.

* * *

After that, it's hell hours for me.

It's like he had been waiting for this chance all this time and now that the flood gates were open, he couldn't afford to waste any buckets of water. From cleaning to organizing to heaps and heaps of orders, Jungkook had been vastly generous. And the worst part was that I had to eat my next meal with him and not even dare think about counting calories. He would purposefully mess up the portions and make it impossible for me to calculate. As if I didn't already have a hard time doing that on the daily...

At one point I was even scolded for counting in my head because apparently, the genius had noticed my eyes moving upwards in circular motions as the food lay down in front of me.

In other words I was utterly fucked. The anxiety of not knowing what I was putting inside my body, of having no perception of numbers or weight scared the shit out of me and if it hadn't been for Jungkook's appreciative glances or encouraging words, I would've said goodbye a long time ago. With him it felt a little less guilty, less of a sacrilege.

"Just don't think about it, " he'd said to me and even though it was one of the most conventional phrases you could think of, coming from him felt different. As if there was an actual purpose behind the words.

"What's next?" I ask in a dead-sounding voice after finishing the rest of the dishes. " A hand-job?"

Jungkook raises his eyebrows in sudden amusement, his expression shamelessly entertained. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll settle for a massage for now."

I drag my eyes to his still bare torso and motion for him to lay down on the couch. "Good. 'Cause I wouldn't give you a hand-job even if you threatened to throw me off the balcony."

Jungkook's laugh is muffled by the pillows as he turns his sculpted back to me. "I like how you have no shame."

"Shame is for the weak, " I add.

My fingers work tirelessly on the smooth planes of his skin, pushing and pressing on specific points which I knew would grant him relief. The way he tries to hide satisfied grunts makes me feel light-headed but I bite my tongue and will my creative mind to take it down a notch, focusing on the task at hand. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had so much physical contact in a long time. Who knew? It was still an enjoyable sight, what with all the tattoos gracing his beautiful bronze skin in long shapes and lines.

"You're really good at this, " Jungkook grunts after a particularly hard press of my hands on the small of his back, even though to me it sounded more like a moan. He folds his arms at his front and leans his head sideways.

"I am?" I question as a smile already pulls at the corners of my lips.

"Yeah, " he agrees.

"Well, to return the compliment, I really like your tattoos."

Jungkook turns around and lays on his back, staring at me under his long eyelashes. He doesn't utter a single word, just keeps looking at me like he would a statue in a museum, his fringe falling between his eyes but leaving enough space for him to see. My hand is left to linger on the velvety skin of his stomach.

"Most people say they look scary, " he says in a low, raspy voice.

"They're not, " I add and trace a curved black line with the tips of my fingers in reassurance.

Jungkook gently grabs the said hand, still not losing eye contact. "Are you scared of me, Jojo?"

"No. I'm not."

A silence falls in the room, its echo almost deafening but this time there's no discomfort, no weird looks, just the consoling presence of each other that hangs in the air like a halo of light. Then–

"Juan, I think I'm starting to catch feelings for you."

He stops himself from smiling, but it's useless. The smug grin had already made it past his lips. "Yeah, me too."

"Hmmm, " I mutter. "How do we make it stop?"

Jungkook slowly rises in a sitting position, that damned expression still visible on his face. "I don't– I don't think it's something you can stop."

" Aw shit man, " I scoff.

"Yeah, you just gotta go with the flow."

I'm positive there's a subtle irritated look on my face, which to Jungkook apparently looked hilarious. This had never happened before and I didn't know what exactly to expect. Was it normal? Was I going to be hurt again? What the fuck was I supposed to do?

"You're overthinking it. There's no need to put a name on your feelings." Jungkook cuts like a knife through my jumbled thoughts. "Besides, I thought we were talking about my tattoos."

"Right, " I confirm. " Is there a meaning behind them?"

"No. They're just for aesthetic purposes." The hooded eyes and dark expression is back on his face. "But–" he takes one of my hands and guides it on the side of his torso, "– this one does." He slides it a little further, on the underside of his forearm, tracing what I recognized as a tiger lily. "This one too. I'll tell you about it someday."

His stance is crouched. Even though he's a good feet taller than me, I somehow look towering over him. This position is suggestive enough in itself but it becomes even more so when Jungkook's knees cage around mine. Our eyes now levelling, I drag the line of my vision upwards, refusing to break the eye contact. And then, my eyes focus onto his lips and specifically the tiny little mole under them. It had caught my eye dozens of times before but for some strange reason, right now it looks like it's inviting me. By impulse, I gently meet his lips with mine and surprisingly he doesn't pull back, peppering me back with pouty kisses that are interrupted only by quick pauses for breath. I take the chance and discreetly lick that very mole with the flat of my tongue, feeling his lips' softness with a quick swiping motion.

It's like his gears are put into action. The sweet, gentle Jungkook is utterly forgotten from the moment he slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, wrestling his own tongue in full force. But then his hands reach up and slip under my sweater to feel the skin underneath and that's all it takes for me to flinch and push him off.

He immediately stops himself from going further and lowers his hands down by his sides. His hooded eyes turn back to alertness as he tries to comprehend what just happened. I feel bad for a moment.

"J—Jojo?" His eyebrows raise in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just—" A deep sigh leaves my lips as I try to keep myself from panicking.

He was about to touch my tummy. My fat, squishy tummy. Just the idea of him touching me there gives me chills.

"I remembered something I have to deal with."

I rip myself off from the couch and drag a hand through my hair in distress, about to turn on my heel and get the hell out of here.

"Wait!" Jungkook yells after me and he grabs my forearm. Not harshly, just strong enough not to let me go. "Did I upset you?"

"No. I–"

Calm down. Deep breaths. One, two. One, two.

"I just have to–" I rush with my words, but Jungkook's hands are made of steel, such a stark contrast with his pleading eyes.

"Stay. I'll take care of you. " He's begging me now. " Please."

I give in–

~ JUNGKOOK ~

–but at what cost? She's been acting distant ever since the panicky incident and I don't know what else to do to get her back the way she was. She barely touches me, barely comes close and I wonder if it's a shame to admit that I miss her kisses too. However, the jokester in her has never left. She'll crack dark jokes from time to time, acting like nothing ever happened and I'll pretend to play along for fear of not making her leave.

It pained me to see her like this, to see her crumbling apart day by day while my hands were frozen in place. A soldier stuck on quicksand. Someone had to tell her this was toxic, that she was poisoning herself and was fully conscious of it.

Weeks and weeks under her presence had trained me to notice all the changes, all the little shifts in her demeanor. Today was no exception. At least not with the incident that had made me do things I'd never imagine doing.

It had all started when a new employee had joined us on the coffee shop, courtesy of my boss, whose relationship with him was rather close. It was one of those cases where you had to make favors for the sake of family relations, et cetera, et cetera. So far, so good. But was one really to imagine that the guy had the audacity to act like he owned the place? I tried to ignore his antics up until the moment he fucked with the wrong girl. My girl.

Despite my disapproving glances, Jojo had been making comments on her weight, constantly seeking Kwan's opinions on the matter.

"But I'm fat!" she had exclaimed, exasperated. In Kwan's eyes, this was just another one of her lame jokes but I knew the sting behind the words.

Then, completely out of line, the new employee had chirped. "You're not fat, you're just thick."

I'd whipped my head in his direction and jumped off the table I'd been sitting, my hands suddenly itching but Jojo had been quick to secretly wave me off. "Well then, you're not stupid, you're just dumb, " she 'd snarked, earning a whole-hearted guffaw from Kwan. The joke had been let at that, or at least that's what Jojo thought. My fists hadn't stopped til the itching sensation was satisfied.

"You okay, Jo?" I'd asked at lunch break, the new nickname making her lips barely twitch. She was upset. I could tell.

"Yeah, why?" she'd replied, eyes trained on my face. For once, she'd given me that warm, old look that went beyond friendship. I'd tried to cherish it for a few seconds before adding, "That asshole was rude to you."

I'd unconsciously rubbed my knuckles and that hadn't skipped past Jojo's eyes. "Nah, he's just– wait a second! Did you do something to him?"

I'd adverted her eyes and cleared my throat awkwardly. "I kinda beat the shit out of him." The image of the guy's swollen face and broken nose flashes into my memory.

She'd gasped but there'd been a mix of amazement and incredulousness in the tone of her voice. "That's my job!"

I'd smiled. "No one messes with my Jo."

She'd smiled back but her eyes had still been sad.

Now I ring the bell on her door, impatiently carding my fingers through my hair as it remains shut. Where the fuck is she? She hasn't been answering my calls for a while and I'm worried sick.

I torture the bell button again and slam my palms on the door. "Jojo, are you there? Come on, it's me! Open up!"

What if something had happened to her? What if– I slam my shoulder repeatedly on it and the lock busts open with a loud clang. Rubbing the sore spot, I quickly scan the room and finally, my eyes find her crouched form on the floor.

There's a pile of junk around her, chocolate wrappers, plastic bags, food splayed apart chaotically and vomit on the floor as well as traces of it on the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are fixed in space, staring at nothing. Dried tears have left moist streaks on her cheeks. She looks lifeless until the moment she takes notice of me and does a double take.

"Jungkook? What– what are you doing here?"

I fall down on my knees next to her, worry written all over my face, but she immediately closes in on herself, her body language radiating fear and protectiveness. "No! Go away, please!"

I don't listen, scooting further till my hands are on her arms, trying to find a way in but she only keeps resisting. "No! Please, don't look at me! Not like this!" Her body shakes with convulsions and quiet sobs rip through her throat.

This was the first time I'd seen her cry.

I grab a towel from the kitchen and dip it in the streaming water. Jojo tries to keep me at bay but I set my mouth on a straight line and force it to her lips. Cleaning her eyes, her face as if I wanted to exfoliate her from any traces of sadness. "Please, " she's begging me now. "Please, go."

I keep my hands on a steady pace, gently rubbing the towel where needed. "Shhh, it's okay. It's just some spilled food. You're okay."

She quiets down at the words and it only goades me further. "Shhhh. You're my baby. My baby, " I lift her up and clean the rest of her, whispering other sweet nothings in her ear until at last the storm passes.

~ JOJO ~

There were two options left when someone made comments on my weight. I either starved myself for two full days or binged on everything I could see like a fucking cow because hey, I'm still gonna be fat, right?

Unfortunately for me , I'd picked the easier way out and emptied the contents of my kitchen in the blink of an eye. It was one of the things I hated the most; stuffing myself till I couldn't breathe. However, what I hated even more was people seeing me in my own misery. Even if that person was none other than the dreamy-eyed boy who had cared for me more than anyone ever had.

I stay silent as Jungkook cleans me thoroughly, making sure to also get rid of the mess on the ground and give me enough privacy to slip out of my nasty clothes and brush my teeth. I just keep staring at him and wonder to myself if I had done any good deeds in this life to deserve him. It pissed me off.

"Do you need another pillow?" Jungkook asks under his dark curly fringe, his back crouched as he stands on the side of my bed.

"No, I'm good, " I rasp, my voice strained from bawling for a good couple of hours. I avert his eyes once more. The guilt and the anger keeps bubbling up on the surface.

Jungkook abandons his chair and sits on the bed, his outer thigh barely touching my forearm. The springs creak and whine under his weight. He takes my hand in his, rubbing comforting circles with the tip of his thumb. "You okay, baby?"

I lash out in a second, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt and pulling it inches from my face. "Call me baby one more time and I'll rip your throat out."

To my surprise, he's not even fazed. A dark chuckle falls under his lips as he grins widely for me to see. Then, as if it couldn't get any more intense than this, he lets himself fall backwards on the bed, taking me along with him. My legs escape the cover of the sheets and straddle his waist, trying not to fall over and crush him. In that particular order. What a typical movie-like moment. I'm wearing pajama shorts and the pale skin of my thighs is completely exposed. As if on cue, Jungkook's eyes flick towards them, drinking in the view. Had he ever seen this much of my body?

"Do it, " he says in a low voice.

I slide one of my hands upward and gently wrap it around his throat. "You really want me to choke you, Juan?"

The bastard doesn't even say anything. He raises the hands laying by his sides and traces the outline of my thighs higher and higher till they settle on each side of my hips. Goosebumps chill my skin like flowers after rain. I'm torn between punching him and kissing him senseless.

"Who knows, I might actually like it, " he says. He hasn't even tried to wriggle out of my caging body, going as far as even baring his throat at me.

I smirk. "Are you always this submissive?"

Uh oh. Wrong move.

In a matter of seconds, I'm pushed backwards, the soft texture of the sheets smoothing the land on my back. Just like that, the positions are completely switched. Jungkook's grin never leaves his face as he's on top of me, his curly locks swinging like a crown on his head. He takes both of my curled fists and pins them on each side of my head.

"I was actually letting you in charge but now that I think about it ; I also deserve to have some fun right?" he states with a smug expression.

For a moment, I'm left speechless. My limbs too, have nothing to say. At least not with the way they're frozen in place, too caught on the spot to dare move.

Jungkook takes the chance and nuzzles his nose on the gap between my neck and jawline. On another situation I would have felt ticklish but not right now. A heavy weight on the pit of my stomach is proof enough for that. He starts leaving small pecks on the skin of my throat, making a beeline for the collarbones.

I honestly don't know what to do with myself. We've been playing around for a long time now but things have never gotten so serious. Not at this point. Only recently had I pushed him off and now here I was, the one turned into full submission.

"Do you plan on ruining yourself every time someone upsets you?" he mumbles, smooth lips barely grazing against my skin.

The image of that new guy flashes behind my eyes and my face sours, all those butterflies in my stomach crushed to dust, just like that. "Can we talk about something else?"

Jungkook pauses his administrations and pulls back just an inch, his eyes staring at mine in full concentration. "No."

I huff in frustration. "You're on top of me."

"So?" he raises one eyebrow.

"So, get the hell off!"

My wrists are suddenly pinned harder against the sheets, Jungkook's hands forcing them further down until they form little dips.

"No, " he repeats, almost mechanically.

I'm about to protest again when his tongue swipes at the vulnerable skin of my throat and that's all it takes to throw all caution to the wind. My back arches off the bed without my permission and I think I must've let out a sound because Jungkook is laughing that quiet laugh of his that makes his shoulders shake.

His lips are on mine, silencing whatever literate thought that tries to make it out. My hips are now straddled by his own knees and oh- my wrists are free because he lets them go gently and puts his hands on my cheeks, kissing me even more deeply, threading them through my hair and its suddenly too much, too much for me to handle.

I feel like I'm floating ten thousand feet off the ground and buried under layers and layers of earth at the same time. My breath shudders violently when his lips drag across the side of my face and nudge the sweet spot below my ear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper but it comes out so broken, so desperate. I'm practically begging at this point and I don't even know why.

Jungkook's hands settle on my clothed waist. His fingertips twitch in hesitation as he bunches the fabric and just like that–

"I'm sorry, "

–and lets go.

I feel relieved and disappointed.

His body peels off my own with reluctance that rips me apart in a million different ways and I feel my skin grow cold from his absence. He leans back on the heels of his hands, staring me down with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, " he repeats and rises from the bed, disappearing into the living room.

* * *

I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. My body has not even moved an inch, too shocked, too frozen. My legs feel like lead, two slabs of heavy stone that pin me into place.

If it weren't for Jungkook's presence snapping me out of my empty reverie, I would've probably stood there like a dead body for days. He comes back (from the bathroom, apparently) his wet hair still trickling droplets of water on his shirt, eyebrows shining, and stands on the middle of the room.

"It's midnight, " he says, as if in a trance.

My eyes flick to the window. Pitch black. Indeed.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he continues, and I can swear the tips of his ears go spicy red. My heart melts into a hot buttery mass. He's blushing like crazy. I can see it! A guy, blushing in front of me. I suddenly can't contain my smile, all things forgotten in a blur.

"Yeah. I would like that, " I breathe.

He locks eyes with me and breaks the contact almost immediately, looking anywhere but in my direction. "I can take the couch–"

"No. Sleep here, " I say and my eyes close of their own accord. "With me, " I slowly add.

"Are you sur–"

My eyes fly open. "We just made out five seconds ago. Why is that such a problem now?" I lift my neck just an inch, to glare at him but there's no real malice in it.

His lips crack into a smile and I'm glad for the tension that dissipates like cigarette smoke. "I sleep without a shirt on, " he confesses.

"Okay."

He slips it off his torso in a swift motion but it's too dark me for me to make out any details expect for his dark silhouette and the wide planes of his shoulders.

"You can take off anything you want. I won't touch you, " I say and roll over on my side of the bed.

"I wouldn't mind it, " I hear him mumble but he complies, the sound of his belt unbuckling echoing against the room.

The bed dips under his weight as he occupies its other side and I feel more than hear the fall and rise of his chest, the labored breathing coming to a steady rhythm.

Two strong hands clasp around my waist and I'm pulled backwards into his chest. I don't push him off. I let him hold me to himself, caged by his body, by the feeling of him; his bare chest, his bare legs, his long hair tickling the back of my neck.

Everything is going to be okay.

I'm okay.

"Jojo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you care about me?"

I smile. " More than I'd like to admit."

He kisses the nape of my neck and pulls me harder against himself. It's not long before sweet, calm sleep sneaks its way into into our bodies.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

It's not the sun the one that wakes me up, despite it having been up for a while, not even the sound of the cars honking in the distance. It's the gentle caress of skin on skin, making goosebumps rise and my eyelids flutter.

I slowly crack one eye open and the smile that blooms on my face is automatic. Jojo's cuddled up on her side right next to me, her head laying between my chest and shoulder, arms splayed out to hug my torso like a teddy bear. But what really does it for me is her left leg thrown across my side. She keeps moving in her sleep and it's doing things to me. I can't breathe.

I suddenly realize that I'm only wearing my boxers. Nothing else.

Oh God.

I lift a shaky hand and try to detach her leg but my fingers linger for too long and she suddenly stirs. Her lips nudge my chest and unconsciously give the latter a tender kiss. Her eyes slowly open. For a moment it looks like she doesn't know where she is but then the realization dawns on her.

"Good morning."

Shit.

Her raspy voice only makes it harder for me to keep myself collected.

"Morning, " I manage.

She sits up and drags a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Why is your nice body the first thing I see? I'm jealous, " she huffs.

I open and close my mouth like a fish, caught on the spot. I'd never thought of my body as particularly nice. "It does its job so yeah, I guess, " I admit aloud.

At that her eyes drag down to a very unholy spot in between my legs. She smirks. " Oh, it does its job, alright. I think you have some problems with morning wood, my boy."

I grab the sheets on the side and swing them over my legs, embarrassment setting my face aflame.

She bursts out laughing. "Relax. It's not like I've never seen a guy with no pants before. Though, I'm kinda disappointed. I was expecting for you to have Lighting Mcqueen patterns on your underwear. " She shakes her head mockingly. "They're so plain."

I uncover my legs once again and this time I don't care. Let her see whatever she wants.

She stops laughing. Gives another glance to the crime scene. Gulps. "Yeah, like I said. Plain."

This whole exchange is so entertaining, I feel my insides flutter with joy. Last night's episode is forgotten in a ditch with no problem. We're back to the old times.

I get up and pace around the room, in search of a glass of water. My throat is parched.

"You know what? Go take a cold shower. All that–" she gestures toward my middle with a wave of her hand, "– is distracting me."

I stop pacing. "You know what? I'll put some pants on if you put some food on your stomach. That's a fair deal."

The color completely drains from her face, replaced by a dark expression that seeps the life out of it. Regret weighs me down.

"I'm never eating again, " she says, while her eyes bore holes into the floor. " Not until I reach my goal weight."

I drag a hand across my face and rub it. Hard. My sanity is on the brink of falling apart. "Then what are you gonna do?" I ask, frustration finally creeping on my voice. "When you get to your goal weight."

She shrugs. "I'm just gonna keep being unhappy, I guess."

It's the way she puts the words out there so easily that draws the line for me. So carelessly, like I mean nothing to her. Like she means nothing to herself.

"This is ridiculous. You know you're harming yourself and you still keep doing it. You know you're not gonna change anything in the end and you still keep doing it. I don't get it."

"Oh yeah?" she spits, her own voice full of poisonous venom. "Why do you keep living if you know you're gonna die one day? Huh, Juan? Why do you do it?"

"This is killing you!"

"I don't care!"

I flinch. It takes me a while to gather myself before I muster the strength to spell out the next few words. "I don't even know why I care about you when you don't even care about yourself."

Her lips curl into a half smile but it doesn't exactly reach her eyes.

"You're right, " she says. "I don't."

Silence.

"Maybe you should go now."

I look up into her face but she's not looking at me, too focused on a spot on the wall. She's telling me to leave. To get the hell out of here. I'm suddenly realizing the absurdity of all this —me shirtless and half nude, boxers stuck to my body like gauze, having a fight with the girl I love with all my heart. I realize the enormity of it. Of how much I love her, of how much I'm hurt by seeing her hurt and I choose to leave.

I pick up my pants from where they lay carelessly on the floor and put them on in excruciating slow movements. I grab the belt and the T-shirt and make my way out of the apartment. Her eyes never leave that spot.

I shut the door behind me and lean my head on its cool ugly surface.

What an ugly mustard -yellow door.

" Jojo, don't do this, " I say, loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, please."

No answer.

The anger falls off me in waves I can't control, swallowing me whole until my eyes see black. I kick the door so hard, my leg grows limp. Another punch and I think I've cracked the wood but I don't care. I don't give a shit. I scream and slam my fists and palms like a madman throwing a tantrum.

"Dammit! Why do you keep doing this?! Stop it, damn you! You're hurting yourself for fuck's sake!"

"You're hurting me, " I add in nothing more than a whisper, my voice already hoarse.

The door never opens.

~ JOJO ~

The door opens easily with just a push of my fingertips. I try to look uninterested but my restless eyeballs betray me in an instant, scanning the coffee shop in all four directions within seconds. I'd spent the whole night spacing out while sitting at the foot of my bed on the floor. I'd never felt so much regret, so much of it that it had felt like I was drowning–

"He's not here." A voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around to find Kwan looking at me with something that looks similar to pity.

I blink. "What?"

"Jungkook, " he explains. " He's gone."

My heart falls into the bottom of my feet and I suddenly can't keep the panic from tainting my voice. I grip Kwan's shoulders. "Where?"

"Woah, calm down! I think he's gone to his parents or something. Boss already gave him permission."

My grip loosens. "Oh."

Kwan blanches but soon a look of genuine concern flashes behind his eyes. "What's the matter? Did you two get into a fight?"

"No, " I deny.

I can faintly make out Kwan's rambling but it sounds so, so far away because soon my ears are thundering.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

"Jojo."

I'm shook awake, courtesy of my man-handler. He looks truly worried but I just can't seem to care. All I know is that I need to get out, distract myself, do something–

The indecisive old bitch lady steps foot into the shop and I curse her existence and mine altogether. This is so not the time to be arguing over extra menus.

She takes her usual seat with an excessive amount of unnecessary grace and looks at me pointedly, waiting to be tended to.

I smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Park."

* * *

Everything feels empty, blurred around the edges.

Meaningless.

I finally realize how important purpose is and how everything we do is driven by it.

Lately I've been walking in circles, wandering like a fly trapped inside a jar, not knowing where I am or what I'm doing.

I'm just there.

I never eat anymore. I never drink. I savor my body like an untouched temple and hope against hope that I'll get better.

It's okay if I'm not. I can't make the difference anymore, anyway. I've spiraled into the bottomless pit of oblivion and the process is slow. It makes me feel numb.

I stare at the rumpled apron laying on the floor along with the rest of the garbage and Ms. Park comes into mind. She hadn't really appreciated my spilling hot tea right onto her chest. The dumb bitch had gotten me fired but it doesn't really feel like a great loss. I'd only worked there because of him, anyway. Him and only him. I never cared about anyone else. But he's not here. He'll never be here anymore.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and make use of the sudden memory to type down his number. I have it memorized by now. The line beeps.

"Hey."

My heartbeat spikes in excitement. "Hey yourself," I reply hastily but my voice cords haven't been used for days, so it sounds more like a rasp. I clear my throat.

"How's it going?" he asks. Casually. Like he would a friend. I missed hearing his voice.

"Good. You?"

"Same."

I bite my lower lip anxiously. I don't like his answers. I don't like how short and clipped they are. Clipped. Nipped. Chipped. Ripped. Zipped–

"So, the guys have been wondering when you'll be back, " I lie.

I hear him release a subtle sigh. "Oh. I don't really know, honestly. I've been hanging out with my parents and they plan on keeping me here for a while longer."

I nod my head slowly then remind myself he can't see me. "Right. Right, you must've missed them."

White noise.

Hmmm.

What else rhymes with noise?

Choice.

Boys

Toys

Turqoise–

"Well, have fun."

"Thanks......um, are you oka–"

I end the call.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

i told you he doesn't give a shit

"I never said I did, " I reply without looking.

you hoped, though

"Shut up."

laughter

you do realize you're pathetic, right?

I turn my head to the mirror. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch! Shut it!"

I spit and throw whatever I can get my hands on it but there's a smile there that I just can't see.

what rhymes with smile?

aisle

bile

rile

guile

worthwhile–

I scream and yell. I rip the sheets of the bed, swipe off the contents of my desk, punch and punch the mirror till my hands are raw and bleeding a waterfall. I kick and thrash with every ounce of strength left in me but there's no use.

She's still smiling at me.

* * *

I'm sitting down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of my own insanity. I can't tell how many days have passed and my cheeks feel surprisingly moist. Have I been crying?

There's no one else around here.

It doesn't matter. I like being alone.

It feels nice to just be with your own thoughts, not having to fear being overheard when you scream ideas and screenplays in your room. You can just be yourself and enjoy doing the things you like the most. But still, sometimes it gets really lonely and not just in the literal sense. I'll always check the dark corners to see if someone's there, I'll always feel like someone's whispering, saying bad things about me, that coat hanged on the rack will always look like a person and then I'll even start getting scared of my own shadow, my head will always shake uncontrollably when I'm crying because there won't be anyone to hold it for me, anyone to assure me that things are gonna be okay.

I don't like being alone. It's not nice.

I glance at the broken mirror, bloody cracks and lines making up the whole of it. There's only one spot in the corner that remains clean and untouched. A smile attached to it.

I realize now. Why she wouldn't go away. The reason why I could never win this war was because the enemy I was fighting against was none other than myself. She was no stranger. She was me. No matter how much we tried, me and my own resemblance would still be standing at the end of the day. If i was alive, she was alive. It was like a symbiotic relationship, a Yin to the Yang. We kept each other afloat and neither could exist without the other.

he's happy.

"I know, "

without you

"I know, " I repeat.

is that enough proof for you?

"It is."

then do it

"yes."

I rise from the floor and blindly look for my phone in the midst of all the trash. It's nowhere to be found. I then turn around and grab hold of the old telephone hanging on the wall. It stands out, an ancient relic hard to be found these days. I roll the numbers by memory. The line crackles for a couple of seconds before a familiar voice breathes into it. My chest constricts as I let out a pathetic whimper. "J– Jungkook... I'm sorry."

I don't give him time to answer, slamming the phone down with a loud ring.

it's over it's over it's over it's over i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

Big, fat tears trickle down my cheeks and chin and I do nothing to stop them. I whimper and whine as I head for the bathroom, reaching up with my toes to get the pills I'd hidden all these weeks. They're still here.

Waiting for me.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

I'm running as hard as my legs can take me but it's not really me doing it. It's my impulses being triggered with full force, struggling for survival. I'm completely detached from my body, my mind going through only one simple rule : I have to make it on time.

I don't even notice the heavy torrents of rain blurring my vision, making my feet trudge with difficulty. I don't even notice the people I push harshly out of my way or the red stoplights blinking past me. My eyes are focused inwardly like a camera, set on breaking through the sea of umbrellas.

please please please please

I repeat the word like a mantra in my head, praying against whatever odds that she will be okay when I get there, that she won't do what I think she intends to do.

please please please just not that anything but that please make her be alright

If only I could've hurried earlier, she wouldn't have had the chance to say those things. To say my name.

It was the first time she'd said my name. My actual name. Those few seconds hearing the syllables tumbling from her lips had been pure bliss to my ears, only to be ripped apart with the realization that she was pleading.

She doesn't answer the phone. I curse myself to hell and back. I should've told her I was coming today. I should've told her I was only two blocks away from her apartment and that all this time far from her had been nothing but torture. There hadn't been a moment when I didn't feel her absence or when I didn't wonder what she was doing. I should've told her I regretted every single word I'd sa-

Something slams against my arm. I fall onto the rough asphalt but I'm on my feet in seconds. The man I'd run into stares at me in anger but I can't deal with his shit right now, so I push him blindly, my feet already finding their footing. "Out of my fucking way!" I yell at him without looking.

I run and run and run until I can't feel my calves and my jacket is soaked through.

Drip

please don't die

drip

Her apartment building zooms into view. I punch buttons and take the stairs by four.

please

stay alive

please

Mustard yellow door.

I don't wait to check if it's open, kicking the lock open immediately.

Things happen in a blur, straight out of a dream. I kneel to the ground, forcing her mouth open. Her tear-stained face spits the pills reluctantly and then she tries to push me off as hard as she can. I knew she'd do this. I just knew it. I had seen the pills standing on the drawer for days, weeks. I knew how she gave those bruises to her body, how she tortured herself by her own will.

"NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I hold her hands down and bend them behind her back but she keeps screaming and it's like all hell has broken loose. "FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I squeeze her hands tighter and I can suddenly hear myself crying, fully sobbing my heart out and then she's crying too and we're both sitting on the floor like two poor beggars with our limbs awkwardly splayed out.

"That's my decision, Jungkook. You can't take that away from me, " her muffled whimpers are heard as I lean her head on the crook of my neck.

I release her hands, which soon find their way around my neck, hugging my body till we fit perfectly together.

"Jojo."

I pull back just a few inches, capture her face with my palms and kiss her like there's no tomorrow.

~ JOJO ~

Do you know that feeling of finally getting home after a long trip, of how your body relaxes upon finding its lost familiarity? That's exactly what courses through my body right now, except that it's multiplied tenfold, to the point of numbness. I'd missed sensing his body beside mine. I'd missed his dark locks tickling my neck, his soft lips, but more than everything, I'd missed having him here. With me.

It's hard to believe the number of things that have happened today. It feels like I'm watching the scene unfold in front of me like a spectator and wonder if it's just a figment of my imagination. And the way he is kissing me..... It feels brand new. Desperate in more ways than one. He morphs our lips together as if they are made of clay and his hands start feeling around my body, begging for some purchase.

I don't realize the fact that I have started crying. Silent tears tumble down my cheeks, wetting his own face with their saltiness. I can't control them. I can't stop them. And Jungkook understands that. He pulls roughly at my bottom lip and suddenly lets go, creating a gap between our bodies. I can't help but feel that I must look like a little child in his eyes right now; grubby, disheveled, teary-eyed...

And then he's looking at me dead in the eye, beyond my appearance, beyond my outer core, cutting through weeds and vines growing inside my soul. "I know none of the things I say will ever convince you. So, I won't be using any words."

He slips my left sleeve from my shoulder, exposing the skin underneath. His head lowers down to it and gives it a feather-light kiss.

I stare at him in confusion but he chooses to keep silent. His eyes never leave my face, even when he starts repeating the action with my other sleeve, rolling my whole shirt up and off my body. He discards each piece with surprising gentleness and that's what makes my tears fall even more violently. He's so kind.

So good to me.

And he's taking off my pants.

I instinctively tense and Jungkook makes an obvious pause, letting me make my choice. The rigidity dwindles away and a flash of relief passes behind his eyes. I close my eyes and then he moves on with his graceful touches. I'm lain down into the bed, my hair fanned out behind me like a halo, and he slowly crawls on top, observing his work of art with a look of genuine satisfaction. His clothes are gone before I can blink and he slowly dives in for the sensitive part of my neck, breathing it in.

"Beautiful," he mumbles against my throat. My body convulses with whimpers. He nuzzles his way up until his lips are meshed against mine. "Touch me, " he whispers.

My breath hitches but I raise my hands that had so far lain on my sides and put them on each side of his face. "Jungkook."

He smiles and my heart bursts into a million fireflies. "I like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I repeat.

He drags those sinful lips down through valleys and crevices, leaving soft kisses in their wake, tracing every inch of my skin, tracing every bruise, every wound, every trace of self-harm. I am nothing more than a hot pool of lava. I do not own a body anymore. Or rather, I feel each sensation being magnified into infinity and I can no longer tell where my body starts nor where it ends. I feel too much. I feel everything. And I am not ashamed of this mundane mass of flesh and bones and blood.

I kiss back.

That's all it takes for him to finally let himself go freely. No obstacles. No barriers. I am free of the voices in my head, free of my fears and judgment. It's like we want to devour each other, drain every single drop until it is the only thing our tongues can taste. I don't really care about anything else right now. I wanna forget about it all and just focus on the soft texture of his lips ghosting the skin on my neck and then going stronger and wilder and swallowing it up till I can feel the delicious sting of pain. We fight. We love. We pour our hearts out like a warm waterfall. And as our bodies tangle restlessly with each other, sticky with sweat, I go through an indescribable ecstasy. Something I've never experienced before.

Acceptance.

_____________________

EPILOGUE

I'd never imagine the storm would go on all night but it somehow did. As I lay in my bed, feet tangled up with someone else's, I hear the distant rumble of faraway clouds first thing in the morning. If it weren't for my daily habit of waking up early, I wouldn't have even bothered cracking my eyes open. The sun remains hidden in some corner as the dark gray sky salutes me instead.

I like it. This mood. It's cozy and warm and safe .

I turn my head on the side and almost melt. He's sleeping like a baby. Eyelids relaxed, lips slightly open, an angelic expression on his face. Pretty.

"That's bold, coming from you, " his lips spell.

I lightly gasp as I realize I've said the word out loud. "I thought you were asleep." As if by instinct, my hand slides up into his face, gently caressing it.

Jungkook grabs my whole arm and pulls me towards him, giving the edge of my jaw a kiss. "I was kinda faking it."

I kick his butt with the sole of my foot. "You prick! Stop playing!"

The whole bed shakes from his laughter as he massages his poor backside. "Did you sleep well?" he asks.

I smile. "Mhmm."

Jungkook mirrors my expression, but it somehow looks more devilish on him. "I'm sure you did."

"Shut up, Jungkook."

He smiles again, genuinely this time and turns, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. "I really like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I whisper. A pause. "Jeon Jungkook."

His eyes open. "Yes?"

"You know, the night before I met you, I was about to kill myself."

His body goes rigid, but I continue. " I don't know why I didn't do it. Then, the next day I met you and it was like it just slipped my mind. The thought was no longer there. So I came at that coffee shop every day, hoping I could see you. You weren't some kind of prince charming or anything. It's not like I looked at you and knew we were meant for each other or that kind of bullshit. I just liked looking at you. One glimpse was enough. It made me feel better somehow. It felt.... nice. But the moment we stopped looking at each other it all came flooding back. That longing to die. I turned back to my starting point."

Jungkook's arms envelop me and I feel my bones shatter. "I'm sorry," I whisper, barely a breath.

He caresses my bare shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay now. I'm here. It's over."

I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "Don't leave."

"I won't."

We stay like that for a while, holding each other in our arms and relishing the sweet silence of early morning. Until-

"Hey Jungkook, you know how you're hot and cute at the same time?"

"Don't do it, Jojo. I'm telling you, don't-"

"Hute."

My obnoxious laughter annoys the hell out of him, but he eventually joins me. I smile to myself.

The old back me is me but more different than ever. I want to go through a deep cleansing. I want to throw away all the trash that has been accumulating in my house and my very soul.

A new person.

A new life.

A new me.

I can't promise I' ll make it in the end but I can promise I'll try.

"You know, " Jungkook says, "you turned out to be much more different than I thought you'd be."

I turn his face to him. "Did I meet your expectations?"

He smiles. "No. You exceeded them."

165 notes · View notes

spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

Text

Typical Colin

Helen jolted awake. To her growing shock, she was not in her own room, but in an unfamiliar, cold, dark place. Not on a bed, but on a hard concrete surface, coarse and rough. High ceilings, distant walls, all swallowed by shadow. Harsh edges everywhere, coupled with the smell of rust. She could taste the grit and filth of this abandoned hall.

Grime had fogged up windows, through which moonlight shone inside, dimly drawing outlines upon crates and steely shelves cluttered with all manners of junk, encased in bubble wrap and cardboard and seas of packing popcorn.

A warehouse she had never seen before, never been inside of before.

From where she was sitting on the ground, she almost jumped onto her feet when she heard something scraping. Metal against stone. Screeching, grating noises.

Drawing closer.

She backed up into one of the shelves, sending shockwaves through the clutter on them and causing it all to rattle and clink and then something toppled over and—

SMASH.

Glass shattered on the floor, shards, and liquid scattering all over, immediately followed by something like vinegar assaulting her nose.

The scraping sounds stopped. She held her breath, knowing what would follow.

Then the scraping started again. Faster.

Heading her way.

In a growing panic and increasingly nauseating dizziness, Helen scrambled away from the sounds closing in on her, taking a left turn here, pacing just quickly enough to not make noise but not fast enough to be running, then taking a right there, meandering her way through this maze of towering shelves and stacks of cardboard boxes of which no human could reach the tops. She descended deeper into the darker insides of this warehouse.

When she stopped to hide in a nook between objects cloaked by shadows, her heart beat so fast and loudly that she worried her pursuer could perceive it. Holding her breath again only made her heart race faster and fear itself erupted from her pores in a cold sweat.

The scraping passed by her, separated by a wall of shelves standing in between them. It was so dark back there that she could only make out a vague silhouette, further obscured by whatever had been piled onto the shelf beds.

Something the size of a man, walking on all fours like a dog rather than upright, creeping through the valley of warehouse junk with abrupt and stiff movements.

SHWINK. SCRANK. SHWINK. SHANK. SHWINK.

It sounded like four huge knives being dragged across whetstones to sharpen them.

Imagery of arm-sized blades filled her mind, attached to stumps where hands and feet should be. Even though she could not see them, her imagination filled in the blanks with something awful. Dripping with ichor, peering out from hollow sockets instead of eyes. A mouth without teeth, made only of hands and grasping fingers.

All in her mind.

Something else audibly clicked.

Behind her.

Trembling like a dry leaf hanging onto a skeletal autumn branch, she slowly turned to face whatever had just made that sound behind her.

Before having fully turned around, a soft glow flared up. Red, hot, and cold, all at the same time, weaker than a candle, closer to the glimmer of a cigarette.

A very big cigarette.

The toxic smell of smoke filled the air and made her cough, covering her mouth.

Something close to what she had just imagined. An eyeless thing only half her size, with grasping hands for a mouth. No blades, though. Its arms ended in stumps from which embers and ashes trailed off, carried away in a nonexistent breeze, like the ends of burning cigarettes, only grotesquely oversized and feeding from pallid flesh that stretched thin around gaunt limbs.

It raised those glimmering stumps, threatening to burn her, while looking pathetic and desperate at the same time. Like a small child, pleading for something and stretching up to try to grab it from the adult keeping it out of its little reach.

All fear drained from Helen. A scorching anger took its place.

She screamed at this amorphous abomination.

"You never got it, did you! Heroin was where you should have drawn the line, Nadine!"

Helen screamed at her old dead friend. But Nadine had never listened, and would not now, either.

SHWINK. SCRANK. SHWINK! SHANK! SHWINK!

The scraping gained speed and stopped abruptly.

The blade-armed thing was exactly behind her, and she was about to turn around and tell it to fuck off, but understood the futility of it. She just never got through to any of them.

Instead of seeing Kent, when Helen turned around, she jolted awake.

This time, she had awoken in her bed. Sitting up in a tangle of sweat-drenched pajamas and sheets, she stared at the empty spot beside her—the spot that had stayed empty for a full year.

Clink.

Clank.

Soft sounds from downstairs.

Sounds from the kitchen.

They made Helen's blood run cold. Her bangs were clinging to her forehead with sweat, sweat born from the nightmare and now painfully felt in the cool air of her bedroom, molting with the knowledge that there should not be any sounds coming from downstairs.

Because Helen lived alone ever since—

Ever since—

Her grip around the baseball bat tightened as she cautiously descended the stairs, creeping around, corner by corner, the hardwood floors burning coldly against her bare soles. A whole slew of unpleasant sensations, all overshadowed by the dread of a home invader, amplified by the horror of having left her phone in the kitchen, her only means of calling for help now separated from her by said invader. And only this baseball bat at her disposal.

Would anybody find her? Or would neighbors eventually notice the smell coming from her house after her inevitable murder, telling police and reporters alike how they would have never expected such a horrible thing to happen in their neck of the woods?

Clink. Swish.

Bottles jingled in the fridge.

Bastard was helping herself to her food, adding insult to injury. Had the lights on in the kitchen and everything—making no secret of the intrusion. Like he owned the place.

How ever had he bypassed the alarm?

His shadow bobbed back and forth, broadcasting his presence as Helen waited in the darkness behind the doorway, baseball bat raised high above her head and ready to crack a skull.

When she turned the corner, she gasped. Some part of her had been ready to scream and swing and strike, but what she saw—or rather, who she saw—robbed her of all ability to act. Her brain broke a little bit in the attempt of making sense of it.

Colin stood in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. His skin was pallid, his clothing half-decayed and eaten by worms or corpse juices, all of which made sense for a body that had been buried for over half a year.

What did not make sense was him being here, standing in the kitchen, slathering mustard and mayonnaise onto bread and stuffing it with cheese and cold cuts. She had told the doctors to pull the plug half a year after the incident, then he was buried in the local cemetery. Almost twenty people had showed up to mourn his passing.

He turned around with his gross sandwich slapped together, took a bite from it with yellowed, rotten teeth, and started chewing with a terrible grin stretching across his face. More sadistic and malicious than anything he had ever displayed in his lifetime.

Mouth half-full, he said, "Hello, honey. I'm home."

Helen was speechless. Could anybody blame her?

She wondered if she was dreaming, but after waking up from a vivid nightmare just to walk into this unfathomable situation, she very well felt the stark contrast, the difference between reality and the glamours of surreal dreamscapes.

This was very real.

He chewed, swallowed—in a way that looked painful, like he was trying to swallow a cup of gravel—and forced his face to widen his grin. Some of his skin was sloughing off around the edges, drooping from his chin and jaw and turning his face into a grotesque caricature of his former life. But without a doubt, this was him.

This was Colin.

"Surprised to see me? Well, guess what, bitch. I'm here for some payback. I'm here to serve justice from beyond the grave. I—"

"W-what are you talking about?" she asked, cutting in while he rambled on about making her pay and other nonsense that sounded like it came from a bad movie.

Undead Colin guffawed. A raspy, throaty thing, emitting a stinging smell reminiscent of vomit.

"What I'm talking about? Bitch, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You had me killed by those punks. And you thought you could get away with it."

He continued eating the sandwich with a comically oversized bite. Almost to punctuate his accusations. Could he even digest food like this? The way he swallowed continued to look painful, like he was making a point more than enjoying anything from his previous life. Crumbs tumbled from the corners of his drooping lips, slime dripped down right after it.

Helen blinked and shook her head, unsure what of this baffled her more: Colin's return from a coffin buried six feet under, or what he was accusing her of. He took another bite from the sandwich.

"Are you out of your mind? Honey—"

"Don't you 'honey' me, you murderous witch," he grumbled, muffled, mouth full, sputtering out some sloppy chunks in the process.

"Those punks were just some hoodlums, some hooligans tweaked out of their minds on drugs. The cops said they had already put several homeless people in the hospital before they attacked you. You were—they were—you cannot seriously believe that I had anything to do with that. You were on life support for five months. Everybody tried to talk me into pulling the plug way sooner—I am in massive debt over it."

Colin's lips smacked as he chewed, and his face contorted. Dead skin wrinkled and sagged more dramatically than it ever had in his lifetime. Probably because gravity was dragging most of it down.

Confusion marked his visage.

He swallowed again and paused in his almost comical display of pretending to eat like a living human being.

"What?"

Undead Colin was clueless of how many awful things he was dredging up. A full year since his hospitalization and effective departure from this world—and here he was, bringing it all back in the most unpleasant way possible.

Tears welled up in Helen's eyes. She had struggled so much to come to terms with it all, to get over it all. She was not even sure if she had managed to fully move on, yet.

"When one of those dumb asshole kids confessed, he said you were challenging them, taunting them. He said you said you could take them all on with your hands tied behind your back. They tied your hands behind your back and beat you to death, you big oaf!"

Undead Colin had stopped eating. Things were obviously not playing out as he had envisioned.

"You mean you and your lover-boy didn't hire them to murk me?"

Helen's outburst was violent, shaking the baseball bat without raising it, choked by sobbing and anger.

"What the fuck are you talking about? What lover-boy?"

Small chunks and gobs of food lazily plummeted from Colin's speechless, dead mouth.

"You mean you and Frank—you and Frank weren't—you know—"

"No! What's wrong with you?"

"Y-you and Frank always spent so much time together, you knew each other way longer than—"

"So fucking what? I never cheated on you! You should have just asked! I would have told you. You fucking moron! What are you doing here? How? How even?"

No answer.

His milky eyes darted to the baseball bat in her hand, the head of which now rested on the white tiles of her kitchen floor, hanging uselessly by her side as she wiped tears from her swollen face with the back of her other arm. It was just too much for her to take.

And Undead Colin was slowly beginning to put two and two together.

"So, you, uh, you're livin' alone now? Huh?"

"It's been a year. Well, more like half a year since we buried you, but there was nothing they could do. You were—"

She lost her speech, going hoarse. Wiped more tears from her eyes because they kept welling up and flowing uncontrollably.

Part of Helen wanted to hug Colin. But even standing several steps away, he smelled like someone had vomited into a dumpster that a skunk had sprayed its stink in and on top of which a pack of dogs had taken a crap. The stench filled the entire kitchen. Through all the confusion and sorrow and tears, there was a flash of her wondering how many cans of air freshener it would take to get rid of the awful smell.

"Shit. Uh. I'm sorry, babe. I—I thought you and Frank—you know. So, I was wrong, huh? That's good, right? Good to be wrong for a change!"

"Yes, you were fucking wrong, you fucking asshole. I missed you so much."

"W-well, uh, I'm sorry for bothering you, then. I promise it all came from a place of, uh, love. I, uh," he stopped mid-sentence. Thoughts that must have trailed off. The words died in his dead mouth.

He gingerly placed the sandwich on the counter, no plate, just spilling crumbs everywhere and allowing some mustard to splotch the surface. Undead Colin stared off into the corner. His typical air of abashed shame lingered about him, just like the last time when he set the barbecue grill on fire and burnt off his eyebrows despite insisting that he knew what he was doing when he squirted bottled accelerant into it.

For Helen, the floodgates were open, all memories bubbling to the surface. The tears were not only born by bitterness and loss, but happy memories, as well. And wondering about all that could have been. Helen now wondered what would happen next.

She started to ask him about it, "Does this mean that—"

He interrupted and said, "I'm sorry. I'm—I'm so sorry I didn't have more faith in you. Sorry for accusing you."

He sighed. A long gasp, like a whole cemetery breathing its last breath. Then he collapsed. Colin crumpled to the floor in a lifeless, stinking heap. He did not even twitch for a split second, all the unlife evaporated from his being at once. His milky-white eyes remained open, his body contorted in an awkward arrangement of limbs that were not supposed to bend that way and had no business being left in such awkward positions.

Helen started to sob again and covered her eyes. Torn away as abruptly as he had inexplicably returned from the dead.

A fly even buzzed about him.

It took minutes until she recovered from a jumble of broken thoughts.

Then she realized that he had left her with the mess of cleaning up after him again.

Of course. Typical Colin.

Did not have the decency to crawl back into the coffin he had clawed his way out of. Some poor groundskeeper probably had to take care of re-burying him all over again. And she had to get his body back there, somehow, too. Her skin began to crawl at the thought of what kind of insects he must have had on and in his corpse.

Minutes later, Helen groaned at the realization while pacing in a circle.

Then the doorbell rang, and the rhythmic, repetitive flashes of red and blue light outside the windows suggested that police were at her front door.

Panic gripped her again, because this was no dream, and now she had to deal with the absurdity of it all. She had to pick up the pieces.

Typical fucking Colin.

—Submitted by Wratts

5 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [3]

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 3.5 OR Chapter 4

➜ Words: 3.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Jungkook didn’t know this is how his night would turn out. The cold night air bites at his skin, turning his cheeks rosy. His finger presses the button and there’s clinking and clanking before the aluminum can comes rolling at the bottom slot of the vending machine. He takes it from the slot and walks over to the wooden bench. “Here.” You’re sniffling, your entire body jolting as you do so. You take the cold grape soda with both hands, and hold it in your lap. He hopes you like it — he saw you drinking grape soda once back in high school. Slowly, Jungkook takes a seat beside you. It’s terribly awkward for him, and he’s not sure what to do. The sounds of your sniffling shatters the silence of the night. “You know….” He clears his throat. “People always break up with their first girlfriends or boyfriends.” Jungkook steals a glance at you. Tears are still slipping from your tear ducts, shedding down the apples of your cheeks. “And, uh, first loves don’t usually last. Even if it did, the divorce rate is pretty high, so, um, uh...yeah.” Your sniveling is violent as if you’re trying hard to keep it at bay. He scratches the back of his neck, mind scrambling for ways to comfort you. “You either get married or break up, so I guess he didn’t see you as the marriage type.” It’s the shittiest advice ever. Jungkook is at least self-aware enough to know just how bad his attempt at consoling you is, but it tumbles out of his mouth anyway with the half of the brain cell he has left. “You guys weren’t that great of a couple anyways—” You burst out crying. Again. This time the sobbing is louder, harder. Uncontrollable. It makes Jungkook look in all directions to make sure no one’s here lest they call the police and accuse him of harming you somehow. “I...I love him!” you manage to say past your sobs, voice breaking in the process. It’s heart wrenching, though nothing but the truth. In this second, you’re so utterly vulnerable that it makes him entirely uncomfortable. “I l-love Jin. S-s...so m-much.” You’re shaking with gut-wrenching sobs. Grief pours out in a flood and salt water creeps from your eyes. You whimper, “I thou—ght I was going to m-marry him, J-J-Jungkook.” The boy beside you doesn’t like the way you call his name, how you’re crying when you say it, how you’re blubbering. “Next month was supposed—….supposed to be our...two year anniversary.” Jungkook has the urge to wipe off the flour stain on your forehead. But as he contemplates if he should or shouldn’t, he loses his opportunity. You tilt your chin to look at the sky, stain out of way as tears spring free down your cheeks. You sniffle, “I really, r-really love him.” Jungkook leans in. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. He pulls you in close and hugs you tight. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but this is probably the least he can do. What his intuition tells him to do. He feels you tremble against him until you stop. “W-what are you doing?” “Umm…” “Get off of me,” you spit at him half-heartedly and he lets go as if he’s burning you. You’re back to sobbing again. Jungkook is at a complete loss. You were better as a bitch or at least easier to handle. It’s horrifying when you’re crying.

The cake burns in the oven. Jungkook can see the smoke curling into the air. He can smell it as it singes off his nose hairs. And he takes it out with mitts, coughing and wheezing, throwing the charcoaled tray on the kitchen counter. He turns to the person responsible. “Were you not watching it?!” “Fuck you, Johnson.” “Why didn’t you set a timer?!” “Why didn’t you?!” “Because I wasn’t the one who put it into the oven!” He shouts, “Are you an idiot?!” You’re looking at him what that infamous frown — those lopsided lips, that knot between your brows that makes your anger tangible. He watches the way you open your mouth to retort...but the hesitation is visible. And in shock, he then watches the way your expression crumples. His gut feeling tells him this isn’t right. He steps back. But then it happens. You start to cry — Jungkook freezes, eyes as big as saucers. Your head knocks forward, tears drip to the floor. You’re so small. He’s never seen you like this before. Jungkook’s never seen you so vulnerable before. “H-Hey, Y/N. C’mon….” His hands come out, but they don’t touch you. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to make it stop. He is powerless. “I’m sorr—” Jungkook’s entire body jolts. His eyes rip open into the night. He’s woken up in a pool of his own cold sweat. Oh god. Thank fucking christ it was only a nightmare — he’s still traumatized for life. The boy sighs, running a hand over his face and through the damp strands of his hair. He twists and turns, trying to return back to sleep, but he’s unable to. Eventually, his hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand. 5:42 am. Jungkook: hey 5:42 am. Jungkook: u ok??? 5:58 am. Jungkook: so when should we meet up for napoleon again Hours later, it says you’ve seen the message, but you never answer him. You leave him on read.

It’s been a few days — how many, you’re not so sure. You’ve been binging on ice cream and fudge brownies. The area near your mouth is stained with chocolate and crumbles of the treats. You haven’t showered in a while, or got up for that matter. It just feels better when you can pull the covers over your head and go through pictures of you and Seokjin on your phone. Photographs of ice-cream dates, that time you went to an amusement park together, your high school graduation, the fairy lights you saw on Christmas, the beach during summer break, the movies during Spring break…. All of them. You look through all the pictures, from the blurry ones of him holding you close to the ones where you’re pouting as he leans down to plant a kiss on your cheek. You miss Jin so much it hurts and you always end up crying again when you play back the videos — sobbing underneath the lump on your mattress. You’re glad you don’t have a roommate who can hear you crying day and night. You remember the first time he asked you out, the first time he held your hand, the first time you kissed. It’s all fresh on the forefront of your mind, and you’re left wondering what you did wrong, where things took a turn and you didn’t even notice. And you lay like that until you can’t cry anymore, until there’s no more pictures to see for the tenth time, until you reach the end of your years of text messages going back and forth. That’s when you see Jungkook’s text and you’re reminded that you can’t just lie around. You need to get up, go to school. You paid a lot for it and you have midterms — you can’t leave him waiting. Having no one to turn to, you dial his number. It rings thrice before it picks up. “Hello? Y/N?” “Hey.” You can’t recognize your own voice. It’s thick and crackly, making you wince. “Sorry. I...called.” “No, it’s okay. It’s okay, trust me. Um, are you, uh, alright?” “I don’t know,” you answer honestly and peel back the covers just a bit. “I just wanted to let you know, I still remember the midterm, so…” “Yeah, I know, t-take all the time you need.” “Okay.” It goes silent. “That’s it. I should go now.” “Right. I should probably go too. Take care of yourself.” The call ends. At least you still have a reason to get up. // Even if your mind is slowly preparing itself but your body isn’t, you have to eventually lug yourself up anyhow to get food when your supply of brownies and ice-cream runs out. It’s a miracle how you can just go on autopilot — that you can walk to the dining hall while brain dead, that you can go forward when your bones and muscles are numb to movement. You grab a tray and haphazardly scoop a ladle full of soup into your bowl. But when you turn away to find a seat, you come face to face with the worst of it, having forgotten this would happen. You catch sight of Moonbyul and Sandeul at a table, but there’s no way you can approach them. They’re not your friends. Not anymore. All of your friends were Jin’s friends. He introduced you to them — and they know him better and longer than they know you. It is undoubtable that they would choose him. You’ve lost everything. You have no one. Your hand tightens on the edge of the tray, looking for an empty table, searching for a spot where you can sit and quickly eat. Then you suddenly hear a call of your name— “Y/N!” Turning around, you discover Jungkook standing up from the cafeteria bench with his arm raised in the air. You approach hesitantly in five strides. “Hey….” All his friends are staring at you. One that you recognize as Jimin, another as Taehyung, one that has sharp features and striking looks and the other sleepy with cat-like eyes. “Ummm…” “You can sit here.” Jungkook moves his friends’ trays out of the way, gesturing for them to scoot over. They look at him like they’ve gone crazy. “T-Thanks…” You take him up on the offer, not wanting to reject him and make it more awkward. They continue to gawk at you, and Jungkook has that sympathetic gaze of his. You know you look like a mess — you haven’t run a brush through your hair, the underneath of your eyes are red from rubbing, your nose is dripping, and your spoon trembles as you bring the soup up to your lips for a sip. “Uh, this is Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok.” “Nice to meet you,” you croak after clearing your throat. “We’re in introductory cakes and decorating techniques together,” Taehyung chirps with a grin. “Yeah, I know.” You try to smile and look over at Jimin. “And we’re in fine pastries together, right?” Jimin nods, not uttering a single word. The awkwardness is tangible. The man named Yoongi sucks up his soda noisily and then pops his lips off his straw. “Is your boyfriend not here toda—ow! What the fuck, dude.” Jungkook’s doe eyes look back at his friend’s. “What.” “Don’t play dumb, you just stepped on my damn foot—” “Hey, is that all you’re eating?” Jungkook points his fork at your meager bowl of soup. Then he moves a bowl of fruit from his tray to yours. “Eat this. You like fruit, right? It’s good for you.” You stare at it and pierce the strawberry to chew it in your cheek. Jungkook smiles when you move the honeydew off the bowl onto his plate. He eats it. “So when do you want to meet up again?” “Tomorrow.” “Okay, sounds good.” Eventually, you finish your meal and mumble something about having to go to your locker. You bid them farewell and Jungkook waves with a brightened smile. All five of them watch your backside becoming smaller. Then once you’ve disappeared, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung turn to Jungkook and wait for an explanation. He looks back at them. “What?” “Don’t ‘what’ us. The fuck was that.” “Since when did you become buddies with Y/N?” Yoongi inquires, curious as well to the sudden change that almost gave him whiplash from sheer shock. “Okay, first off, we’re not buddies. She’s just going through some shit, so I’m trying to be a decent human being.” They continue to eye him and Jungkook sighs, putting down his utensil. “Jin dumped her.” “Oh shit.” Hoseok exchanges a look with Jimin. Taehyung’s jaw is slack. “Damn, that makes a lot more sense.” “Yeah, so don’t talk about him, dumbass,” Jungkook says pointedly to Yoongi. “Hey, I didn’t know! Don’t put the blame on me.” Hoseok asks, “When did it happen?” “I don’t know, like a few days ago.” The dark-haired man leaves out the part where you were crying. They don’t really need to know that detail and he has no plans of making a spectacle out of you. Taehyung leans in closer, too nosy for his own good. “Why?” “How the hell would I know? Ask if you want to know that badly.” “Nah, it’s no wonder though. She looks pretty bad.” Jungkook muses the same and he can only hope you’re holding up well — if not for your own sake then for the sake of the midterm. // Another day comes and goes, a sunfall and sunrise, and you find yourself knocking at Jungkook’s door. You didn’t know the weekend was so long. It feels long when you have no one to see, no one with you, nothing to do. Even after a full week has passed, you don’t feel better or close to it, but you know logically it’s better to get up and at least do something productive. You have some self awareness to know that rotting in your bed would be a pathetic way to die. The door swings open. The boy’s eyes are rounded. It occurs to you that you never realized just how brown his eyes are. “What are you doing here?” “I...thought we could meet up early. I don’t really have anything to do, so…” “How’d you know this is my room?” Jungkook peeks down the hall as if he could catch the person who exposed him like this, but there’s no one. “I asked the front.” “Oh.” “Can I….” “Sure.” Jungkook widens the door without thinking of the consequences and you step in. It looks like a tornado took a turn here. His belongings are scattered and in disarray, clothing hanging off the back of his chair and dumped on the floor like there was a Black Friday sale. Jungkook follows your line of sight and laughs stiffly. He picks up his briefs by your foot. “I’m usually not this messy, I swear. I’ve just been too busy to clean—” The man pales and jumps on his bed when he notices what you’re staring at. He tries to cover up his IU posters with his hands and his body, but to no avail. “These aren’t mine! They’re just up temporary cause, they were, um, gifts from my mom. I was a fan of her back in the day! But not anymore! Don’t make fun of me…” The entirety of his wall above his bed is posters of IU from back in her debut days to her most recent comeback. He has a shelf of all her albums lined up in a row with her official lightstick too. They don’t seem dusty at all. You take your eyes off of them, not uttering a single comment. Jungkook realizes you’re not going to tease him and gets off his bed awkwardly. He continues to pick up after himself, throwing his used clothes in the laundry basket. His eyes flicker up to you. “Wow, not even trying anymore, huh?” he jests, trying to lighten the mood. “Your outfit’s ugly.” You look down, self-consciously tugging on the hem of your oversized sweater. It’s a taupe hoodie that goes to your knees. “It’s Seokjin’s.” “O-oh. I, uh, mean you smell bad.” Jungkook laughs by himself and grabs his Febreze off his nightstand. He sprays the expanse of your body. It smells like fresh linen. He stops after five seconds when it occurs to him you’re standing motionlessly — when it hits him that you’re not going to smack the head of his side like he expected you to. Jungkook puts the Febreze back on the table and clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.” You’re freaking him the hell out. No matter how much Jungkook tries to banter with you or pick an argument, you remain quiet. // Even if you’ve gone mute, your baking abilities are luckily still intact. Jungkook works quietly alongside you and helps you assemble the cake. After two strenuous hours, the product is put in front of the two of you. At first glance, the presentation is acceptable, but taste is another thing. He cuts into the cake and eats. You wait patiently for his reaction. Jungkook’s brows wrinkle. “Ugh, god.” He sets his fork down. “It’s so bitter.” Your cakes are usually too sweet that it hurts his teeth — now it’s not sweet enough. “Did you add any sugar?” “You kept complaining I add too much,” you murmur dejectedly. “Yeah, but you have to add some, Y/N. It’s not enough now. Here. Taste it. It’s disgusting.” He gives you a tasting fork and you take a bite. After a thoughtful chew and swallow, you look at him impassively and shrug. “Tastes fine to me.” “What?” Afraid he’s gone absolutely crazy, Jungkook takes another big bite. This time, his entire mouth dries and his tongue shrivels. It’s bad enough that he hisses, “It’s bitter.” “I can’t taste it,” you mutter apologetically, eyes on the floor. “I think it’s because my nose is plugged.” “How are you supposed to bake if you can’t taste?” Jungkook sighs in frustration. All your efforts for the past two hours have gone down the drain. You’ll have to start again, making it once more. But— “What’s the point?” you ask him, shoulders slumped and your entire form drooping in on itself. “What?” “What’s the point?” you whisper to Jungkook. “We either do well or we fail, but it’s not like it’ll matter. We’ll still pass the class and we’ll move on. And we’ll graduate and work, and then die a few years from now. It’s not like this’ll significantly change our lives. What’s the point if we make it well or not. What’s the point of worrying about it.” Jungkook is utterly mortified at your sudden despair. “Don’t you want to do well?” You shrug. He doesn’t know who this is — who you are — what you’ve become. This isn’t the Y/N that he knows. “Can you stop moping?” Silence. “You’re not helping yourself by being miserable,” Jungkook says sharply. It pisses him off that you’re so pathetic, that all it took for you to become so small was a mere breakup. He can’t fathom that his rival has been reduced to this. “There’s worse things out there. It’s not like you’re dying.” It remains quiet. He doesn’t know what he has to do to squeeze some kind of living response from you. “You’re alive and you’re still here. How much longer are you going to be like this? We have things to do!” Jungkook shouts, throwing his fork into the sink overflowing with dishes and bowls he has to wash as a result of your blunder. And it still seems like you don’t care. “I don’t get why you’re so sad. Jin isn’t even that great. He dumped you. So what? You move on! You get over it!” You sniffle. It snaps him back. Jungkook comes crashing down to reality. He watches the way you put your hands to your face and he realizes you’re crying again while nodding. God. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, for him to sound like such an asshole. “I’m...sorry,” you whimper, words muffled behind your hands. “I just...I’m t-trying.” He sighs for the nth time. Guilt overwhelms him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Jungkook gently tugs on your strand of hair that falls in front of your face. His voice softens. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” You nod, wiping your eyes away with your hand. “I just r-really want to go home and pull the covers over my head and pretend it never happened.” “I know.” He really doesn’t. Part of him still doesn’t understand. Jungkook can’t comprehend what was so great about Kim Seokjin that has you so devastated, but he tries his best to empathize. “But we can’t do that, can we? We just gotta...keep going. And it won’t be too hard cause it’s not like you have to do this on your own, right? Cause I’m here…..and you’re here, and all…” He’s bumbling, tripping over his own tongue and cringing over his poor attempt at comforting you. But you look up at him with glossy eyes and he lets go of your hair. With no one else to turn to and no one that you can confide in, you manage a small nod. You choose to believe him.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #bts reader insert #jungkook x reader #Y'ALLLLL

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harlot-of-oblivion · 3 years

Text

Tales of Miss Fortune

It’s been awhile since you’ve heard a certain red devil callin’ but you soon find yourself fighting alongside Dante when trouble comes a knockin’.

Here’s the rootin’ tootin’ spooky treat I’ve been promising for weeks! Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain, y’all! 🌹🤠🌹

Rated Explicit for: Vampire and DT Smut, Blood Drinking, and the usual violent demonic fighting with the addition of vampiric dusting.

Chapter 1: Fallin’ for a Gun Street Girl

Some people believe that there’s life after death while others say it’s just an underwhelming ending. You used to think the latter until experiencing the cold embrace of death for yourself. Now, you know that there’s a way to live a life after death…just not in the way that most folks tend to envision, such as spending an eternity in heavenly paradise or burning in hell.

Death truly is a cruel mistress to the living, but to vampires such as yourself…let’s just say that you and death have been bedfellows for well over a century now.

And you would think that someone would change after being dead for as long as you have, and yet here you are…still hanging out at rowdy bars, observing small groups of people gathered around various tables from your usual spot in the corner. It feels like any other normal night; the cackling of drunk patrons and clinking of numerous bottles is like music to your ears. But you feel like there’s something missing…and you finally figure out what it is after catching yourself looking up with every swing of the front entrance for the past hour.

Dante is a no show…again.

Your eyes glance down at the empty chair sitting right next to you, wondering if he’s been busy since the last time you saw him or just plain avoiding you altogether. Neither of you made any plans to hook up after that night in his shop, so you aren’t really surprised by the lack of interest. Afterall, the Legendary Devil Hunter has better things to do than to hang around a dead woman…at least, that’s what you tell yourself while pushing him out of your thoughts.

But you quickly find that it’s easier said than done as your eyes dart towards the pool tables, shivering at the memory of your own game of strip pool with him. It was one of the most fun nights of your undead life…hell, you can’t even remember a time where you were that happy when you were alive! But you know that getting attached to mortals usually invites trouble, and you don’t want to be a burden for an exceptional mortal like the Son of Sparda himself.

I’m bettin’ it was just a one-time thing anyway, you surmise, tearing your eyes away from the pool table while kicking your feet up on the table. He’s probably found someone alive and a lot prettier than-

The sudden screams of terror just outside the bar brings your thought to screeching halt. The few patrons who aren’t shit faced drunk immediately notice the commotion before bolting towards the exit. You tip your hat up and tilt your head with interest, listening to the inhuman shrieks that ring out like a hellish choir while everyone else starts panicking. It only takes a few more seconds and a couple more guttural growls before everybody gets wise enough in their drunken stupor to start rushing out.

Almost all of the drunkards are gone when the front windows explode in spray of glass. A horde of demons come barreling through and instantly set their malevolent sights on the stragglers, raising their jagged blades and claws high in the air before moving in for the kill. But you prove to be a lot quicker on the draw with your guns as you shoot each demon in speedy succession, distracting them long enough for the rest of the patrons to get away and live for another day.

“Hoo wee!” you yowl as the horde turns their attention towards you still sitting in the corner with your legs propped up on the table. “I’ve never got a good look at you demons before…y’all look like the hindquarters of bad luck!” you admit with a small shrug while the ugly sons of bitches start closing in on you. “But that’s alright…” You kick your feet off of the table before using some of your vampiric strength to fling it towards the center of the group, knocking a few demons down with a splintering crack.

“Cos yer about to meet Miss Fortune herself!” you boast, cocking both of your guns before raising them up in a challenge.

The demons hiss and spit like a herd of angry cats while spreading out through the bar, ignoring the obvious gap you’ve created with the table. You’ve never tangled with fiendish entities before, but this tells you that these demons aren’t the brightest crayons in the box. Your lips curl into a cocky grin as you aim your trusty guns towards the first casualties of this hellish brawl.

“C’mon now! It ain��t good manners to keep a lady waitin’!”

Your final taunt pushes them to pounce at once, giving you an opening to dash through the gap you made in a blink of an eye. You run past the broken remains of the table before turning around and taking aim, boosting your speed with blood while taking the first of many more shots. Misery and Woe were custom made to handle supernatural entities, and it seems they do just fine on demonic threats judging by the guttural screams of pain. All of them drop dead one after the other in a satisfying spray of blood within seconds, standing no chance against your heightened sense of accuracy and deadly aim.

“Huh…well, that was easy,” you quietly quip while reloading your guns.

Another round of demonic howls echo just outside the now thoroughly trashed and bullet ridden bar. Your keen sense of hearing detects the rustling of fighting and some gunshots among the ruckus. Something deep down in your gut knows who it is that’s letting loose on them demons…and you can’t help feeling a little excited at the thought of seeing him again.

You quickly make your way outside, breaking the front door off its hinges as you zoom out of the bar. The familiar scent of blood greets your nose as you scan the numerous bodies of dead demons on the street. Your eyes shift from side to side, scanning the area for any sign of who may be responsible for this onslaught of pure and utter chaos.

“Howdy, Darlin’.”

Your instincts kick in as you swing around and point your guns at the devil of your desire. His cheeky smirk widens as he casually approaches, bringing back memories of the pool game you’ve been trying to forget for both of your sakes. You slowly lower your arms while shaking your head in disbelief before flashing him with a confident grin.

“Well, well…look who finally decided to grace me with his devilish presence!” you exclaim with just a hint of sarcasm. “It only took a horde of demons and some gunfire to summon ya, but now that you’re here…” You pause when more demonic screeches echo in the distance, turning your head to glance over your shoulder at the oncoming wave of demons before looking back at him with a toothy grin.

“Wanna have some fun, Cowboy?”

Dante chuckles as he stands next to you. “With you…always,” he replies with a flirty wink before brandishing a huge sword from out of nowhere.

Your heart would be fluttering at his words if it were still beating, but there’s no time to dwell on these cumbersome emotions with imminent danger around the corner. You tip your hat to him before raising your guns just as more demons come running down the street. Both of you keep your ground to the very last second until springing into action.

Dante sprints towards the oncoming horde while you hang back and spray them with a hail of bullets. You admire the sheer power behind every stroke of his blade from afar, yearning to feel his robust arms around you again while shooting down more and more demons. C’mon now…this ain’t no time to be droolin’ like a waterfall, you mentally berate yourself before honing all of your focus on the task at hand. It only takes a few minutes for both of you to mow down the majority of demons before he brings up the obvious with his laid-back yet direct flair.

“So, I uh…haven’t seen ya since that night at my shop.”

Your face falls flat as you lower your guns. “Really, Dante? You wanna get into it right now?”

“Seems as good as any other time,” he retorts with a shrug before cutting down the last demon left standing with a broad sweep of his sword.

“And I suppose you’ve been avoiding my usual haunt since then for no particular reason either, hmm?” you ask while gesturing towards the bar with your head before raising a brow at him.

“I’ve been busy with a couple jobs lately,” he explains, resting his sword on his shoulder while walking up to you. “And besides, you know where I live,” he points out with a nod of his head as he stands right in front of you. “I even left ya an open invitation so that you can freely enter the shop whenever you want, Darlin’.”

His striking blue eyes glow in the moonlight as he scans your face, longing to see them spark with desire again. Your head starts spinning as the scent of gunpowder and leather mixed with a little blood wafts under your nose. You want to tell him that you miss his rousing company, his rowdy laughter, his searing hot kisses…but your keen ears pick up the rustle of fast approaching steps just behind him.

You quickly step to the side and take aim before firing at the pissed off demon. He whips around with Ebony and Ivory at the ready, but you beat him to punch as the demon falls dead on the ground. “Ooh! Better luck next time, Cowboy,” you crow with a playful smirk while holstering your guns.

Dante lets out a soft bark of laughter while shaking his head. “Next time, huh? I really like the sound of that.”

You chuckle and bite your lower lip as your hunger for him begins to stir. “Me too. It’s just…I got the impression that you didn’t wanna…what I mean to say is-”

“It’s not customary for our kind to engage in such barbaric relations with mortals.”

Both of you swing around towards the source of the phantom response, guns pointed down a dark alleyway. You glare at a pair of vampires walking out of the shadows before fanning out as eight more reveal themselves while swiftly surrounding you. One of them tilts his head as he inspects Dante with a critical eye. Your heightened senses tell you that he must be the leader since his blood is the most potent out of all of them.

“But I suppose a hybrid such as yourself would be an exception.”

Dante chuckles softly. “Looks like we got some party crashers,” he casually comments while turning so that both of your backs are pressed together.

All of the vampires quietly laugh as their daunting stares pin both of you down like a pack of ravenous wolves. You glance down at the bloody street, noting that this is the first time you’ve encountered your own kind around these parts…which is odd since that’s exactly why you hangout around here to begin with. But now you can’t swing a damn lasso without roping one on the very same night of a random demon attack!

The more you think about it…the more it reeks of something fishy.

“All this your handy work, I presume?” you inquire, motioning to the carnage all around you with a flick of your wrists.

The lead vampire smiles and turns to you. “In a manner of speaking…we simply pointed out that an infamous devil hunter frequents this very lively bar.”

Your eyes narrow at the implication of his words. “An ambush, huh?” You turn your head and meet Dante’s befuddled gaze. “Who’d you piss off this time?”

“Hell if I know,” he mutters while shrugging his shoulders.

You chortle at his carefree attitude and ready yourself for the challenging fight ahead. Dante turns and addresses the lead vampire with his disarming smirk. “We’re kinda in the middle of something, so if you could just-”

The vampire closest to the leader interrupts by loudly humming in delight. “No wonder our mistress sent us to collect such a delectable prize.”

Dante ignores the obvious attempt at flirtatious intimidation. “Well, I’m real flattered and all, but-”

“HE’S MINE!”

Your feral growl grabs everybody’s attention as you make a show of flashing your fangs, warning everyone to back off before things get messy. “Ooooh! Looks like this one’s already been claimed,” another vampire chimes in before letting out a baleful cackle.

“And here I thought we could talk this out like civilized kin,” the leader laments with a shake of his head.

The lustful vampire laughs before inflaming your possessive fury by sauntering up closer. “Such a shame that someone as old and infamous as you would be meeting her Final Death over-”

It only takes one explosive round from Misery aimed straight at their mouth to shut them the fuck up. The redolent air instantly becomes hostile as that vampire crumples down on the street, helplessly twitching while the remaining vampires snarl and hiss with outrage. Dante summons his sword and crouches down into a ready stance while you cock your other gun.

“I ain’t one to repeat myself but lemme make it very fuckin’ clear for y’all,” you begin, slowly raising Woe at the first vampiric casualty of this unfortunate encounter. “If any of you worthless ticks so much as touch a white hair on his head…” You aim and pull the trigger, reducing them to a pile of smoldering ashes with the force of your second shot.

“I’ll have ya begging for mercy before sprinkling yer ashes all over this goddamn street.”

And with that one final warning, the leader raises a hand and signals the rest of his cohorts to attack. Dante springs into action while you stand your ground, waiting until they get close enough until the very last second. You turn into mist just as one vampire raises a hand to swipe at you with their vicious claws, sifting through their bodies and reforming right behind them.

The barrels of Misery and Woe glisten in the pale moonlight as you let loose a barrage of bullets at inhuman speed. Two more vampires turn into dust while another clutches the back of their wounded head as they drop to the ground. You reload your guns as quick as a flash and take aim to finish the job, but the only survivor of your sly tactic zooms by and slashes your shoulder.

You snarl as sharp pain shoots down your arm, distracting you from weaker prey and focusing your attention on the asshole who ruined your favorite leather jacket. This vampire is almost as fast as you, swinging his clawed fists with precision towards the few vital points of your body. But you prove to be not only faster but wilier as well, dodging every single one of his blows while leading him towards some burning debris in the street.

You feint to left before shifting right as soon as they’re close to the flames, purposely letting him puncture your shoulder while using a large portion of blood to boost your strength. Your jaw clenches tight, holding back your yelp of pain as he growls victoriously at their measly accomplishment. But the joke’s really on him as you holster one of your guns before extending your nails into razor sharp claws.

Your lips curl into a devious grin. “You must be feeling pretty lucky right about now,” you note, making sure he meets your unwavering gaze. “But lemme fill ya in on a little secret…”

You swiftly jab your hand up straight towards his chest, long claws striking true with their target as they pierce his lifeless heart. His face contorts with agonizing shock as you twist your wrist, burrowing deeper until the tip of your claws stab through his back. You easily lift him up off the ground before turning around towards the blazing fire.

“No one’s lucky so long as Miss Fortune’s in town.”

You hurl him straight into the fire with one strong thrust, dislodging your claws from his chest before pulling your hat down in front of your eyes while turning away. The hot flash of flames lights up the night while tormented screams echo down the street, sending chills down your spine as you struggle to remain in control. Your feet move of their own accord away from the flaring threat, instinctually knowing that your quarry has met his Final Death.

Your eyes zero in on your previous prey limping away from the fray. You dash right up them and stomp your foot on their back, keeping them still as you carefully aim for the killing shot. Your finger slowly squeezes the trigger, relishing in their pitiful plea for mercy before ending their miserable undead life. But you don’t have long to delight in the bloodbath as Dante’s harsh grunt meets your ears, bringing your attention back over to his side of the fight.

Multiple piles of ash now litter the street alongside demon corpses. Dante is engaged with the only vampire left, which happens to be the leader himself. You get ready for a real challenge by reloading your guns with explosive bullets, but all logical thought flies out the window when you witness this leech attempting to…bite…and feed…

Something in the darkest recesses of your mind snaps and you suddenly find yourself using more blood to boost your speed before hurtling towards the object of your ire. The leader senses your approach and tries to act accordingly, but Dante seizes the chance to turn around and swing his sword at him. The blade cuts a deep gash across the leader’s neck and a thick spray of blood spatters across Dante’s face as you close in on your target.

“If a man is the sum of his misfortunes…” You stop just short of running into him and swiftly shove both barrels of Misery and Woe into his gaping mouth. “Then you’re one unlucky sonuvabitch,” you finish, enjoying the fear in his eyes as you pull both triggers.

You let out a satisfied growl as his undead brain gets blown to bits, smirking as his blood splatters across your face. He falls to his knees but the bastard refuses to meet his Final Death, still swiping his clawed hands around clumsily. But Dante swoops in and lops off his head with a single sweep of his sword before you can take aim with your guns.

The leader’s body crumbles to ash, leaving just the two of you in a sea of dusty carnage. You look at your devilish lover just as he turns his gaze towards you; both of you are covered in blood and still buzzing from the battle. Your keen hearing picks up his rapid breathing and heartbeat, which only stokes your flickering hunger into a blazing inferno.

“Dante,” you purr sensually while holstering your guns.

“Oh fuck,” he murmurs hoarsely before stalking over to you.

You meet him halfway before both of you just pounce on each other. Dante wraps his arms around your waist while your hands encircle his neck before both of your lips crash down and meet in a desperately heady kiss. You moan as he slips his tongue past your fangs while the scent of leather and gunpowder drives you wild. Finally seeing him fight and absolutely covered in gore pushes you to indulge in what you’ve been secretly missing since that night at the shop.

And it seems Dante agrees since his hands grope your ass and urge you to jump into his embrace. You oblige and hop into arms, wrapping your legs around his waist while nibbling on his lower lip with your fangs. He groans softly and tears his mouth from your starving lips before turning his face away, baring his neck to you as he treks back towards the bar. Your predatory gaze hones in on the pulsating vein being kindly offered, swiftly leaning in and scraping your fangs against his skin before sinking in for a luscious feast.

Dante grunts at your bite but his hurried pace never slows as he arrives at the entrance of the bar. He steps over the broken door and heads to the closet surface that isn’t totally ripped to shreds: the fucking pool table. But you don’t even care to comment with wry quip with his deliciously smooth blood trickling down your throat…he could’ve fucked you right then and there on the street and you wouldn’t have cared so long as his crimson nectar was on your tongue.

You suck a few more greedy mouthfuls as he sets you down, taking note of his strategic position of facing the entrance before tearing away from his neck. He instantly captures your bloody red lips with his hungry mouth, swirling his tongue around your fangs as he clutches you tight against his body. You feel the pin prick of claws press against your hips before he tears your jeans along with your panties, shredding them off until you’re only wearing your cowboy boots below your waist.

Your heightened sense of hearing catches the sound of approaching trouble a few meters outside of the bar. Dante notices too as he tears away from your lips and tilts his head towards the sound of approaching adversaries. His lips curl into a cheeky grin as he kneels down between your legs while reaching behind his back.

“Do me a favor and shoot down whatever comes our way while I take care of business down here,” he requests, brandishing both of his guns with a twirl before handing them over.

You take the guns just as a couple of demons come hurling through the shattered windows. “Sure thing, Cowboy,” you comply with a wicked grin.

Your hands swivel around and take aim while Dante dives in between in your legs, licking and sucking your wet cunt as you fire rapid shots at the encroaching demons. You gasp and moan between shots as he finds just the right spot, flicking and twirling his tongue while his nose rubs your clit in the most maddening way. This causes you to miss a few shots due to the delectable distraction down below, swearing up a storm with every errand bullet.

Dante silently chuckles at every curse word that flies from your mouth. “What’s the matter?” he pipes up between lavish licks, gazing up at you with a mischievous red gleam in his eyes. “I thought an infamous pistolero like yourself wouldn’t be so easily distracted!”

You hiss at his playful jeer while shooting down a demon that got really close to the pool table. “Less talkin’ and more lickin’, Cowboy,” you quip back, deciding that you would have better luck with your aim by switching positions. You clench your thighs around his head and swiftly turn your body around until you’re riding his face.

“Mmm, you’re gonna meet the devil at this rate, Darlin’,” he murmurs against your slit, nipping and sucking your folds before his tongue strokes even deeper inside you.

You feel like you’re floating away while shooting down the remainder of the demonic wave, twitching in pleasure until finally coming on his scruffy face with an ecstatic moan as you fully give into his devilish tongue. He greedily suckles every pulse of your cunt, slurping every drop of your pleasure as you fall against the soft green surface of the pool table. An intense heat emanates from his mouth as he slowly pulls away from in between your thighs, and you look over your shoulder to see a most wondrous and intimidating sight.

A true devil with smoldering red scales and spikey plating is standing behind you, smirking with familiar lips while glowing red eyes roam your prone body. You’ve only heard rumors about his demonic form but to see it for yourself is truly astonishing…and incredibly arousing. You lift yourself up from the pool table with a soft grunt and shuck off your long leather jacket before leaning back down, making a show of spreading your legs nice and wide.

His gravelly growl sends pleasant tingles down your spine as you give him a good view of your ass and sopping wet cunt. You peek over your shoulder and flash him a naughty grin. “C’mon, Cowboy,” you purr while wiggling your hips provocatively. “Show me how a real devil rides in the rodeo.”

Dante chuckles huskily while grabbing your hips with his clawed hands. “Are ya ready, Darlin’?” he asks gruffly, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you up towards his crimson chest before pressing his lips close to your ear. “Cos I’m gonna have you screaming my name all night.”

You gasp as an unfamiliar length slides in between your slick thighs, surprising you with its unusual yet tantalizing texture. Your eyes glance down and catch a glimpse of his member as it glides against your slick slit, noting its reddish black color and thick ridges all around the shaft. You whimper at the thought of his devilish cock slipping inside you, stretching you out while filling you up to the brim…just the feel of it has your thighs clenching around him with anticipation.

Sharp fangs nibbling on your ear breaks you out of your carnal daze. You thrust your hips back against him while reaching back to grab one of the long spikes protruding from his head. Another fiendish growl makes your body quiver as he turns your head to capture your lips with a searing hot kiss. He gently guides you to bend over the pool table, never breaking away from your wanton mouth while adjusting himself between your legs.

Dante slowly slides every inch of his ribbed cock inside you, pulling a pleased moan from your throat as his tongue licks one of your elongated fangs. You softly whine as he finally bottoms out, silently begging him to give you a taste before the imminent display of shameless debauchery. One corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk as he cuts the flat of tongue against your fang. You revel in the thick smokiness of his blood while his clawed hands rip your buttoned shirt open and slice your cotton bra between the cups before groping your breasts.

You ready yourself for one helluva ride…but both of you break away from each other’s lips as the clamor of more approaching demons meet your keen ears. Dante lets out an irritable growl while you reach for his guns still lying out on the pool table. You flip them around in a flashy fashion before presenting them with flourish above your head.

“I believe it’s your turn to do the shootin’, Cowboy.”

A sudden blast of blistering heat hits your back, almost blowing your gambler hat off as he gives your breasts one last squeeze before withdrawing with a teasing scrape across your nipples. He takes his trusty weapons from your grasp and points Ebony towards the entrance while resting Ivory just above your navel as he wraps his arm around your waist. You would be holding your breath if you still had the ability to breathe as he waits for trouble to come knocking, staying completely still until the very last moment…

Dante slowly pulls out, leaving only the tip inside you while the first wave of demons come crawling through the broken windows. Then, he slams his hips back against you with a sharp slap as he fires the first of many shots. You moan unabashedly as he sets a steady pace, pounding into you with brutal force while shooting down a stream of demons. It doesn’t take you long to reach your peak again, coming from the new sensation of his devilish cock while a barrage of bullets whiz through demonic skulls.

Your body falls limp against the pool table as Dante swings Ivory towards the back of the bar. He fires a rapid hail of bullets as more demons come through the back entrance while keeping his ruthless pace. The metallic ring of bullet casings bouncing off the hardwood floor keeps the insatiable flame of your desire burning as your hunger demands more blood and more pleasure.

You lift one of your legs up onto the pool table, resting your knee against the edge while propping yourself up on your arms. Then, you thrust your hips back to meet every hard pump of his cock, keening with every brush against your sweet spot as he buries himself even deeper inside you. Your ears pick up some faint cursing as some of his shots fly by a few encroaching targets.

“What’s the matter?” you ask as he points Ebony towards the demons. “I thought an infamous devil hunter like yourself wouldn’t be so easily distracted,” you taunt, mirroring his exact words from earlier while looking over your shoulder and meeting his smoldering gaze.

Dante growls and quickly disposes of the remaining demons, wrapping both arms around you as soon as the last one disintegrates with a pitiful shriek. He pulls you up until your back meets his glowing red chest and picks up the pace, scaly hips slapping against your ass while his warm grunts puff against your cool skin. The slide of Ivory presses against your breast while the barrel of Ebony rests above the apex of your thighs, rubbing your clit with every hard thrust as he nuzzles the back of your head. You groan as intense pleasure starts to build up again, making you mumble incoherently while holding onto his arms with your bruising grip.

You tilt your head and bare your neck, hoping that he sees the invitation to partake of you. The exhilarating feel of sharp fangs nipping and grazing along the soft flesh you’ve exposed lets you know that he got the message. His guttural purr sends tiny tremors of delight throughout your body, making you ache for his bite as you rush towards rapturous release.

Dante drags his demonic tongue against your neck before sinking his fiendish fangs into your supple flesh. His name bursts from your lips as you tumble over the edge again, body shaking in his fervid embrace as he takes a couple swigs of your blood. “Mmm…fuck, I’ve missed the taste of you,” he groans against your neck, relentlessly thrusting through your orgasm and smacking his lips before going back for more.

The rustle of something unfurling knocks you out of the hazy aftershocks of your mind-numbing orgasm. You glance over your shoulder just as Dante spreads his demonic wings out wide. Their swirly red patterns hypnotizes you, pulsing with his heartbeat while gradually glowing brighter as he chases his own pleasure. You moan at the impressive display of power while leaning down against the pool table, silently encouraging him to fuck you with wild abandon by thrusting your ass back with enthusiastic fervor.

Dante drops both of his guns on the pool table and grips your hips with his wickedly sharp claws. His booming growl sends darts of pleasure straight down through your cunt as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. Your enraptured moans mingle with his gravelly growls as both of you come careening over the edge together among the blood and gore. You scream his name over and over while he cums in great spurts, slicking your cunt with his white-hot seed as the lewd squelching from his frenzied thrusts echo throughout the ruined bar.

Both of you ride the pleasurable wave, gasping and writhing against each other to the very end. You collapse against the pool table while Dante leans over and rests atop your back, warming the crook of your neck with his panting breath. Your thighs twitch as his cum drips out from your sated sex, making you feel some carnal satisfaction deep within the primal recesses of your mind.

You let out a blissful sigh while leaning back to nuzzle his spiky head, softly purring as his warm lips press numerous kisses against your neck. You bask in this tender moment, giving into this feel of emotional closeness before the inevitable parting of your ways. But you don’t have time to dwell on that bittersweet notion as the familiar sense of dawn approaching washes over you.

Your entire being instantly reacts to the slow ascension of the sun, quaking in fear while wriggling out of the warm embrace of your devilish lover. “Whoa! Easy there,” he coos as you reach for your long leather jacket. “What’s the hurry, Darlin’?”

“The sun…I can feel it rising,” you explain, quickly slipping both of your arms through your jacket before buttoning it up. “I gotta go…but I dunno if I can make it to my sanctuary before…” you trail off, trembling at the thought of meeting your Final Death under the rays of the morning sun.

“You can stay at the shop if you want.”

His nonchalant offer gives you pause as your head snaps over your shoulder, noting that he’s reverted back to his human form. You think it over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of taking him up on his gracious offer. “If you have a dark basement…or a way to block all sunlight from entering a vacant room,” you suggest, desperately hoping that he really means it since his place is a lot closer than the crypt that serves as your temporary home at the local cemetery.

Dante cups your face with both of his hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you during the day,” he swears while meeting your frantic gaze.

You stare into his striking blue eyes, searching for the slightest hint of deception among their depths…but the genuine gleam within his unwavering stare eases your worried mind. Your lips curve into a grateful smile while clasping his arm with one hand before tipping your hat in appreciation. “Then you better ride like the wind, Cowboy,” you murmur, swiftly bringing your face closer by raising yourself up on your tippy toes.

“Don’t wanna end up as a pile of ash before giving ya hell for ruining my one good pair of jeans,” you softly tease while nipping at his lips with your fangs.

His breathy chuckle brushes against your face. “Didn’t hear ya complaining at the time…too busy having a drink on me,” he teases right back before capturing your lips with a scorching kiss, making you moan softly while both of your tongues gently glide across each other.

Your insatiable hunger starts to stir once more, but the nagging urge to seek shelter from the rising sun wrangles it back as you break away from his lips with a rueful sigh. Dante smirks knowingly as he reaches for his guns on the pool table, holstering them behind his back before leading you out of the destroyed bar. He summons Cavaliere while you hiss and turn away from the flashing light of false dawn.

“C’mon, Darlin’,” he murmurs, gently guiding you towards his fiendish ride.

You hop on and make yourself comfortable while he swings one leg over and sits down behind you. “Better hurry…I’m already…” you mumble, barely able to keep your eyes open while fighting off the familiar feel of falling into torpor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry ya into the shop and protect you during the day,” he whispers by your ear, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand revs the engine.

“Promise?”

“You have my word, Darlin’.”

Dante puts the pedal to metal with those final words of assurance, zooming down the street at breakneck speed towards the shop. Your lips curl into a fond smile as you do your best to hold on during the ride while fighting off the need to rest. But you know that’s a fool’s errand, so you close your eyes and leave yourself in the capable hands of your remarkable devil.

And as you finally succumb to the lull of torpor, you remind yourself that getting attached to Dante will only invite more trouble down the road…but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’d like to thank @bettybattaglia for her wonderful suggestion about missing gun shots! And I gotta give a shout out to @varen-neoraven for beta reading for me!

Tagging: @drusoona @exsultry @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @leviathan-dee

#dante #dante x reader #devil may cry #dmc #cowgirl vampire reader #Tales of Miss Fortune #Fallin' for a Gun Street Girl #back in the saddle and ready to ride!#YEEHAW! 🌹🤠🌹#harlot writes

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