#inspired by my own hatred of food shopping

[theschizophrenicchristmasgoblin]

The Bin Chronicles

The first thing you need to know about me is that I will not be - in any sense of the word - a reliable narrator.

In fact, being an unreliable narrator is exactly what makes me so uncomfortably authentic. I’m a person who struggles with mental illness writing about having a mentally ill experience in multiple mental facilities with other mentally ill individuals.

If you resonate with what you’re about to hear, I’m deeply sorry and hope you’re getting the care and support you need. If you don’t resonate with my story and are simply reading for entertainment, welcome.

Disclaimer about the word bin*

In case you’re wondering what “bin” means in the title of the book, The Bin Chronicles, let me tell you. It is shorthand for the term “looney bin”. It’s an affectionate joking term that some people use to refer to the psych ward. If anyone asks, I made it up.

Chapter 1 - The Drive

Clutching my bleeding forearm to my chest, I tried to wade through my sandbag heavy thoughts. Were the handfuls of ibuprofen I downed ever going to kick in? Would I get charged extra if I bled out in the Uber I impulsively scheduled? Should I have texted all those friends to see if they were awake enough to convince me to go to the ER? Did I even deserve to go to the hospital for something like this?

The piercing headlights of the approaching white sedan broke through my worrying. It was decided. At 1:39 AM on August 20th, 2023, I was going to head to the Massachusetts General Hospital emergency room for severe self-harm.

I’d like to say something inspiring such as “getting in the backseat of that Uber was one of the bravest choices I’ve ever made”. But I’d be lying. It didn’t feel like a brave choice. I didn’t even really want to get help. I just knew that the voice in my head telling me that I needed to cut deep enough to require stitches needed to be taken seriously.

The only memory my increasingly painkiller sedated brain encoded was the irony of being in this particular car. Never in my life have I had a kinder driver. He went above and beyond and offered me a phone charger and water. That had never happened to me before. Meanwhile, I was having one of the worst nights of my life. His warmth made the hot tears roll down my cheeks even harder, as the juxtaposition of a stranger’s kindness compared to my own deadly self-hatred felt like too much to bear. It would have looked like a completely normal ride had I not been holding my injured arm to my chest.

Now that the anxiety of whether or not I should get into the Uber subsided, a new worry popped up. Was the cut deep enough? If not, would they turn me away? I was determined to finally go inpatient and in my deranged mind I thought the only way to get there was to have a medical emergency. As these thoughts multiplied, I remember trying to take in the city and its beautiful florescent lights. For a split second, I felt true serenity being one of the only cars on the highway. With my arm starting to throb and soak through the gauze, the tranquility didn’t last.

Suddenly, everything looked familiar. I had worked at Massachusetts General Hospital for a year as a research coordinator. I recognized Flour Bakery + Cafe, the little coffee shop with the best butter chicken sandwich around, and the old watering hole where we used to drink after work, Harvard Gardens. I got to retrace my daily commute on Staniford Street passing a Domino’s pizza that made me salivate (yes I like Domino’s, don’t turn your nose up at me!) and a sub shop I never got to try, turning right onto Cambridge Street where I could never resist the Whole Foods next to my work at lunch time. Streets usually jampacked and bustling with cars and pedestrians commuting to and from work were eerily empty. No babies crying, dogs barking, no full hands with lunches and coffee or music blaring while bicyclists rode past. As I finally reached the main entrance of Mass General, a feeling of dread set in. I knew that I wouldn’t be going home that night.

I got out of the car. Part of me thought about getting right back in. I guess in that moment I did two things: I fulfilled my mission of taking myself to the ER and I not only admitted I needed help but brought myself to the place that could keep me safe. Once inside, I talked with the woman at the front desk. Everyone there was incredibly calm and kind and I immediately felt a sense of relief. They asked me some basic demographic intake questions like my age, DOB, the nature of the visit, whether or not I had current suicidal thoughts. Unlike my previous ER visit earlier that week, the first thing they did when they saw me was stitch me up. I’ll never forget that the provider doing them said it was almost too superficial to require stitches. While many people might feel comforted by that fact, I felt discouraged. I felt like I hadn’t made the cut deep enough which in turn made me believe I didn’t deserve to be at the hospital. I didn’t see the psych triage team that morning, but I finally fell asleep in a recliner.

Before I explain any further, let me tell you how I put myself in this minacious situation.

…

The weeks leading up to Mass General and eventually McLean Hospital were not pretty. I had been going through a depressive episode for the past 6 months if not longer, but during those last two weeks things had gotten much worse. One of the things I struggle with when I’m depressed is hygiene. Usually that takes the form of not taking my prescribed pills or brushing my teeth. Graphic, I know. Sometimes it involves not brushing my hair or taking showers too infrequently. This time it was all of the above. I felt hopeless consistently and I stopped enjoying things that had otherwise brought me joy.

At that time, I really enjoyed smoking weed and drinking daily. I stopped them both cold turkey. Another source of enjoyment for me was watching TV with my partner every day. During this period, I stopped being able to pay attention to our shows. Instead, I spent most of my time watching myself from outside and above my body. I couldn’t watch TV or hold a conversation without dissociating. Dissociation is a break in how your mind processes information. Dissociation can cause feelings of disconnectedness from your thoughts, feelings, memories, or surroundings. It can also mess with identity and sense of time. It can be a natural response to trauma, a way to cope with stressful experiences, or a symptom of mental illnesses like PTSD, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, or borderline personality disorder to name a few. Alternatively, it is sometimes a side effect of alcohol or taking or coming off of medications. For me, I either view myself from outside my body or stare blankly while being bombarded with anxious thoughts or none at all until someone snaps me out of it.

As soon as I lost interest in those aforementioned activities, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to them. I stopped eating. I struggle with a self-diagnosed weed-induced binge eating disorder where most of the time I restrict my food intake except for when I’m high. Once I stopped smoking, I lost my appetite completely. I wasn’t even restricting; I just had no energy to eat. I didn’t see the point in it anymore.

 I couldn’t keep myself up past 8:30 at night. I’d blame it on the medications I was taking, but I can’t even do that because my psychiatrist and I took the one medication that was impacting my sleep, Abilify, out of the mix. Abilify is an antipsychotic that treats many different mental health conditions such as schizophrenia, bipolar I, autism spectrum disorder, and Tourette syndrome. What it does is balance the levels of dopamine and serotonin in the brain to help regulate moods, behaviors, and thoughts. We decided to stop the medication because I wasn’t feeling any positive or negative effects and I didn’t feel like it was contributing to our goal of getting me out of my depressed funk.

Now I had nothing to blame for my change in sleep but my depression. I would later learn from McLean how important it is to change the narrative from “my depression made me do this” to “my experience with depression made me feel this way”. It might sound like a small change, but what it does is stop you from making your illness your whole identity. Personifying depression can give it a life of its own, and it can be empowering to separate yourself from it by making these small linguistic changes. Now that I have that information, I can reframe the narrative to recognize that one of the symptoms of depression is sleep disturbance and that I was at the time experiencing that symptom rather than blame my depression as a whole for the situation.

I started moving slowly. I felt like I was wading through water any time I had to stand. My energy was at an all-time low. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed on the weekends and went right to bed when I got home from work. My bones ached. I felt tired all the time. I felt worthless. I felt like my life had no meaning, like I was merely a husk of my former self. I didn’t feel like I had any value to offer or bring to the world anymore.

I stopped paying attention at work because I couldn’t focus. I cried constantly and isolated myself from the rest of my coworkers. I had to step away from meetings because I couldn’t stop crying.  I wasn’t able to keep up with my social life. I stopped calling my friends and didn’t return their calls when they reached to check in. This may sound like I’m beating a dead horse, and it most definitely is redundant, but I want to highlight what the signs of depression were for me. I hope this helps you to identify it in yourself or in someone else.[MOU1] 

I felt like there was no reason for me to live and I fantasized about ending my life. I thought about all the ways in which I could kill myself and how to make it as painless as possible  for my loved ones. I had recurring dreams about overdosing on painkillers. To make matters worse, I promised myself that I wouldn’t fail. I knew I didn’t want to end up fucking it up like I did the last time I attempted in 2020. I didn’t want to end up in the hospital or disfigured in some way. I just wanted it all to end. 

On August 16th I cut so deeply that I needed stitches. I was on the phone with my partner Beau as he was driving home from work, and I just started cutting and couldn’t stop. The cut was actually a few days old, and it was already relatively deep. I’ve started doing this new thing where I cut in the same spot over and over again. I’m not sure why I switched from hurting myself in multiple places to the same one, but I know that this change is dangerous. It’s dangerous because it deepens the cut which can lead to needing hospital-level care.

Completely on brand, I decided to reopen this old wound and make it deep enough to require stitches. I think the reason I did this was because the other day when I made the initial cut, I called my ex roommate who is studying to be a doctor and she said that it might need stitches. Upon further inspection, she said it should heal on its own. I absolutely hated that she was right, and I wanted to prove her wrong. Welcome to my fucked up brain.

So on August 16th I reopened the wound and slashed at it until my partner came home from work. I couldn’t feel anything while it was happening, and I dissociate[MOU2] d as I watched myself deepen the cut from above my body. Before my partner got home I started rehearsing my smile and my coyness. But as soon as he opened the door, I caved. My cut was bleeding through the gauze, and it was having trouble clotting which was unsurprisingly really hard to hide.

I told him I thought I needed to go to the hospital. So off we went to Newton Wellesley Hospital. It was a surreal experience driving to the emergency room. I wasn’t in an ambulance, just a regular car. And there was that damn irony again, we could have been going anywhere. [MOU3] [MOU4] There I was, bleeding in the passenger seat, but there was no indication to the rest of the world that there was an emergent situation. No one knew I was hurting, inside and out, or that there was a wound acute enough to require stitches.

When we got to the hospital, Beau had me get out of the car so he could park. Upon entering the hospital, I was dismayed at how long the line was. I went all the way to the back and tried not to listen to other people’s conversations. I could smell the hospital: the pungent soapy yet flat geriatric scent that stops you from wanting to take a full deep breath in, the eye-watering bleach that they had used for God knows what, and the stench of stale discomfort and worry. I finally reached the front of the line and it was my turn to tell them why I was there. I strained to get the words out. “I’m here for self-harm”.

Suddenly, I’m treated like VIP. I don’t have to go back to the waiting room like everybody else. I now get to stay at the front of the line, and someone comes to check on me every 5 minutes. Finally, I’m brought back to a different part of the hospital along with a middle aged man who drank too much and took a spill. He keeps insisting that he’s not an alcoholic, and it becomes clear to me why they put us on the same unit: we were both there in a special part of the ER for those who purposefully harmed ourselves in some way. Or maybe it was that we were all dangers to ourselves. [MOU5] I was put on a bed in the hallway but I wasn���t there for long because someone from the psych[MOU6]  team came to get me before offering me medical attention. The Psychiatry Triage team at Newton-Wellesley consists of independently licensed social workers. The way it works is people coming through the ER are first evaluated by the Emergency Department clinical team to ensure they are medically cleared. Then the social workers psychiatrically assess the patient to decide what the best level of care is for them. Looking back on this, it’s definitely weird that I wasn’t medically cleared first. Anyways, a nurse came to get me to help me put on scrubs. From there, the social worker and I went into an empty room and I was told to take any seat. I picked one and then was told to find another one, which to delirious me was the first sign that something wasn’t quite right.

The social worker sat far away from me and constantly had to lean in to hear me better. I told her what was going on, and that I wanted to do an outpatient program for Borderline Personality Disorder at McLean Hospital. This is a diagnosis I received in 2021. She laughed in my face and said it would take way too long to get off that waitlist. She asked me once if I wanted to go inpatient[MOU7] , but didn’t give me any information about the process. I declined, and she asked me why I had come to the hospital in the first place. I gestured toward my arm.

What is inpatient treatment you may ask? Here’s what I wish I knew when I was asked if I wanted to go…inpatient treatment is meant to be a short time in a psychiatric hospital to keep people safe during a mental health crisis. This is the most intensive treatment option for mental health, otherwise known as the highest level of care. What this term describes is different types of mental health treatment. This level of care includes hospitalization, whereas the lowest level of care refers to weekly or less often outpatient therapy sessions. Outpatient refers to a level of care in a non-residential setting where patients can live at home while participating in treatment. There are two main types of inpatient care: hospitalization and residential treatment. Hospitalizations are designed to be short term, often an overnight stay up to a few weeks long, and residential treatment often lasts 30 days or more. The focus of inpatient care is stabilization of the patient and developing a treatment plan for continuing their care once they are discharged. Hospitalizations are often thought of as a necessary safe place for those who are experiencing crisis, while residential treatment can help someone avoid a crisis before it escalates to that level. Inpatient can be voluntary which means you agree to seeking intensive care, or it can be involuntary which is referred to as involuntary or compulsory hospitalization where the person does not want to be at this level of care[MOU8] .

For context, inpatient units often look more like a college dorm than a hospital floor. There are both single and double rooms that often have their own bathroom that is shared with the adjacent room. There are also both group therapy and individual therapy rooms where you meet with psychiatrists, therapists, and group facilitators daily. There are common areas for eating, family visits, relaxing in places such as sensory rooms where there are comfortable chairs, fidget toys, and more, there’s always a nurses station where you take your meds, and there are offices for the staff and clinicians who you meet with on a weekly if not more frequent basis. This depends on if you are in a residential or hospital setting. These units are locked or secured environments, meaning that you cannot leave the unit without supervision. On the floor are a team of professionals including psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, case workers, nurses, nutritionists, recreational therapists, occupational therapists, and mental health technicians to name a few.

After this awful interaction with the social worker, I was brought back to my hallway bed and was told to sit tight. A doctor came over and questioned if I even needed stitches, so I showed him my arm and he quickly covered it back up and agreed. To give you a visual, puffy fat [MOU9] was visible from my open wound[MOU10] . At first the deep groove filled up with dark red blood and you couldn’t see anything underneath. When they finally removed the rudimentary bandage I had made, that’s when you could see the true damage. According to my boyfriend the cut was about 3 inches long by an inch wide. While the left side of it was thinner, the right side of the wound was gaping. Yellow fat was visible almost in the shape of a bubble drawn flower and it was protruding a tiny bit past the wound. I could see a small black spot that I later learned was a vein. The fat looked bumpy and textured. No butterfly bandage could hold together what I had done to myself.

Hospital staff came over with an EKG and then they finally put me in my own room where x ray came over to look at my arm. Then the doctor entered the room with a huge syringe. He squirted it into my open wound with no regard for my pain tolerance. Then he began sewing the skin on my upper arm back together. Oddly enough, he never asked if the numbing medicine had kicked in. I can’t quite describe the feeling of the needle, but it was strange, dull, and felt far away due to the numbness. It looked exactly like stitching clothing, a long needle with a thin piece of string except there was a hook for the stitch which entered my arm on either side of the wound. This created small holes that filled with blood too.  He told me not to look but I couldn’t help myself. I was grotesquely in awe. As he dabbed at the blood flowing from my open wound I thought I might be sick. When he was done, I had 7 blue stitches on my left arm. The doctor left as quickly as he came.

Then the nurse who had helped me undress and put on scrubs came back in. I told her that I had had an awful experience talking to the social worker. She said, “I’m sorry” and then walked out. Anothernurse overheard the conversation and said she could talk to the social worker for me. I almost let her advocate for me, but I was too scared that the social worker would come in and try to talk to me again, so I said no. She said she could look in the nurses station to see if another social worker was available. I thanked her. She came back with a list of crisis hotline numbers. I left disappointed with no aftercare plan in place. I texted my therapist about it, and she said that particular social worker was known to be a bitch. It’s still insane to me that the last thing I got that night was stitches when that’s all I went in for. It would be understandable to delay my stitches if they had properly gotten me set up with inpatient or outpatient care, but as you can tell that was not the case. I vowed to not go back to Newton Wellesley in the event of another mental health crisis.

…

When I returned home, my therapist made it clear that if I self-harmed again I needed to go directly to the hospital. Her and my psychiatrist both thought I needed to go back to the hospital regardless, but I didn’t want to leave work. I thought that leaving work for a medical emergency meant I wasn’t a good employee. That I wasn’t dedicated enough. To this day, I still feel that way.

Alas, I hung in there. For those of you who don’t go to therapy, therapists often use the phrase “hang in there” when the session is over and you’ve just unloaded five years’ worth of trauma into a fifty-five minute slot. I have always hated the phrase because I feel like it is minimizing. You’re contemplating ending your life? Just hang in there[MOU11] . Anyways, I “hung in there” for three more days.

I don’t remember what time it was on August 19th that I made my decision. In my head I suddenly had a plan. I would pretend for the rest of the day that everything was fine, that I was in a positive mood, and then at night I would cut to the degree of needing stitches again and take myself to the ER. I was actually really nice and generous that day. I bought my roommate and partner dinner and drinks. I kept up appearances. My partner commented on how good of a mood I was in and I cheerily agreed, suggesting that my depression must have finally gone away. On the inside, I was on a mission. All I wanted was for my boyfriend to go to sleep that night. I didn’t want him to take me to the ER because he had already helped me get to the ER for self-harm three days prior. It didn’t feel fair to have him take me for a second time in the matter of one week.

Somehow, I forced myself to watch part of a movie with him. As soon as he started to doze off, I got to work on my plan. I located my scissors. I went into the bathroom. I normally cut horizontally on my left arm. In perfect dissonance, I decided to cut vertically on my right arm. The pair of scissors I was using had gotten dull from years of use. I could barely cut my skin. It was also awkward because I’m a righty, so using my left hand to cut vertically was a challenge. I was listening to Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan [MOU12] on repeat. The pre chorus and chorus really haunt me.

“Stayed on the line with you the entire night

‘Til you let it out and let it in

Don’t let this darkness fool you

All lights turned off can be turned on

I’ll drive, I’ll drive all night

I’ll call your mom”

At the time I didn’t realize how much I was contemplating suicide. The idea of having someone on the phone with me who I could talk to about these feelings rather than acton them would have changed the course of my life. Having someone remind me that the darkness that I was feeling was temporary might have made me make a different decision. That night, I really needed someone to call my mom.

I took one earbud out of my ear so I could hear if my partner woke up. In the bathroom I felt too far away from my room, so I moved to the couch. I used my flashlight on my phone to see what I was doing. He stirred. I freaked out. He got up to use the bathroom and I quickly shut off the flashlight and put a blanket over the bloody scissors and blood-soaked napkins. Somehow he didn’t get suspicious and went back to bed. I started thinking about what I would take with me to the ER. Underwear is a must. Computer, computer charger. Piece of paper from work about FMLA resources. Phone charger. Scrub pants. Comfy clothes.

I got a plastic bag for my dirty supplies. While cutting didn’t hurt on the 16th, it hurt every second on the early morning of the 20th. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I packed my bag, took one last look at my room, and left my apartment. As soon as I got outside I started hyperventilating. In a very unlike me fashion, I proceeded to text a bunch of my friends to ask if they were up. 2 responded, 1 was busy. I called my friend from home and told her I needed to go to the hospital. She stayed on the phone with me until I got in the Uber.

#bipolor #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #depressing shit #tw depressing stuff #self h@rm #suicide squad #mental health #mental illness #actually mentally ill #mental instability #mental institution #inpatient

[twistedtavern]

As a writer, do you have any scrapped concepts for twst things? Either original works or old plot points for the self aware au?

Oh god. Let me tell you about the scrapped concepts/processes. Very fucking long so its all under a readmore

~💀😍⚰️The cursefic⚰️😍💀~

My first ever twst concept was scrapped, actually. I had it before I even began this blog. Its influence can be seen in the self aware au if you squint and it was actually the basis for my RSA au. But, essentially, it boils down to a spell being put on Yuu by the RSA housewardens that makes everyone at NRC fall in love with them, but it eventually turns them all yandere and makes them all start killing each other to have Yuu to themselves. Yes, my first thought when I learned enough about twst to make anything was "okay, but what if they all killed each other?" Spoiler; Rook and Leona were the final survivors and had the largest kill count, but ended up being each others demise (Rook was eaten alive and Leona bled out from an arrow wound). But, when it comes to Yuu, they DID survive NRC and were taken to RSA, but Neige had spent enough time with them to go insane and poison the last remaining people involved, including Yuu and himself. The intention of the spell put on Yuu varies between versions, but originally all the RSA housewardens were evil and the mass murder was fully premeditated, but in later versions it was intended and cast as a blessing that got corrupted by only two of them. Also, they were the reason Yuu got brought to Wonderland in the first place. Man, that fic was cringe.

~⚔️🐎✨Shining Wonderland✨🐎⚔️~

BUT, from the ashes of the cursefic rose Shining Wonderland, where I basically just took the RSA I made for that first fic and fleshed it out with a lot less murder. Here's some of the changes I made to the original housewardens during the transition from fic to full blown au

Name changes:

Allister -> Archer

Leandre -> Hop

Zeroh, a second-year student in Prideguarde, was the original housewarden of the dorm. I decided that since his inspiration was a villain and in no way affiliated with Mufasa, that wouldn't work and I quite literally invented Ndege on the fly (pun intended) while typing up the dorm leader post.

~❤️📱👁️Self Aware Au👁️📱❤️~

Hoo lord. There are quite a few very spoilery ones that I will not be sharing, but scrapped Malleus concepts will take a whole category of their own. In the meantime, take some others

Crowley being a villain in the afterstory is no longer a thing

Kalim's hatred curse and its pertaining afterstory arc being scrapped

The 4 times Kalim has had a personality rework

Rook originally was just pure evil. He didn't end up switching around back to good once loved on a little, and he was just generally very hostile towards the player

Scrapped scene in the Jamil spinoff where the player and Jamil go to the store to shop for picnic food ingredients

For a time, Leona was the canon and ONLY love interest for the player (aside from Rook) in the afterstory. He even got his own key role in the ending where he sort of... reverse overblots? As a hero instead of a villain to save the player from Malleus.

It is no longer the boys who defeat Malleus in the end

Various reworked death scenes

Lilia, Silver, and Sebek were originally a part of the first protection squad before being repurposed

Leona was once going to be burned alive trying to guide the player back to the mirror chamber

Idia is no longer horny.

When first drafting the Pomefiore arc, Rook was supposed to awaken during Chapter 5 and go insane, subsequently awakening Vil through his shenanigans

Jack was going to be mindbroken by Malleus into essentially an overgrown attack dog

The player was going to find Riddle and Trey holed up in the shack by the river, and at that point Riddle was too incoherent and tangled in thorns to be saved. Trey stayed there with him for the rest of the kidnapping arc and neither are seen again until the afterstory. Both now have more active roles in the story

As well as other stuff I can't remember or tell at the moment.

And now, guys, gals, and other assorted bad bitches, it's time for the MALLEUS SPECIFIC BONUS ROUND

As part of the ending for the afterstory, Malleus was going to take the player into the void and make them an angel by force, absolutely tearing them up in the process and shattering the glass to make wings for them. This concept is reworked into something MUCH cooler >:))))

He used to love the player lmao

His old plan had been to traumatize them to the point of being easy to mentally break and essentially turn into a mindless pet for warmth. It was as weird as it sounds

Tsunotarou was originally going to have a fun-loving, overtly childlike personality before his rework

This version of Tsunotarou had been SO annoying to every other character to where he was testing even Kalim's nerves

Recovering his memories as Malleus would have disturbed Tsunotarou to the point of pushing those experiences onto a completely separate alter ego/split personality

I think his very first concept was that he was connected to the player via dreams since they were a small child, and basically acted as their "imaginary" friend throughout their life, leading them to actively seek out characters that are similar in aesthetic to him, which led them right to Twisted Wonderland. This was still in the era where he was in love with them, so that is a fat fucking YIKES from me. You can see why I tossed this out the MINUTE I realized what the implications were 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

All the shit I made that was somewhere along the lines of "Malleus manhandled the script to make himself a part of the game/housewarden/a third year/a student/prince/all of the above" ranging from 'he's just a first year who found out how to fuck with the game' to he was just straight up known by NOBODY at Night Raven and he isn't even a student to begin with, much less intended to be in the game. But then it wouldn't make any sense as to how he was literally half of the game's marketing, so he had to be an actual third year housewarden and intended to be in the game.

Im tired. Thats all for now

[bookwormreadsss]

(Autobiography)

"Each chapter in my life's work of art reveals the well-balanced union of my passions, personal development, and family ties, creating an unforgettable melody that speaks to the core of who I am."

Take a journey through my life's chapters and discover the highs, lows, and surprising turns that have molded me into the person I am today. My 18-year-old tale is as peculiar as my name. I was born in November 2005 in Quezon City, and I've traveled a great distance to get to my present home in Cavite. Named after my father, Enrico, I not only inherited his name but also his introverted nature and a relentless work ethic that keeps me going.

Beyond simply being an auto mechanic, my dad Enrico is a man whose passions are cars and action films. On the other hand, my mother Corazon enthusiastically leaps into the realm of online shopping. I am the youngest and only girl in a family of three, with two older boys who have already embarked on their own family journeys.

Throughout the obstacles that life has thrown at me, my grandmother Mila has always been there for me. Her words of wisdom impacted me, motivating me to go on through difficult times. My hobbies provide me comfort as I navigate my ongoing development; in particular, my passion for cookies inspired me to name my first dog Oreo. With a new animal buddy named "Magic," I am able to fully appreciate the happiness that pets give you.

Although a few teens have an attraction to the excitement of fun novels, my preference is for realistic and depressing romance. I value emotional depth in my experiences, and I find comfort in the sincerity depicted in imperfect relationships. I regularly participate in school activities despite my love of isolation because I want to make a beneficial influence on my environment. In addition, I enjoy reading books that explore human emotions and ways of thinking since it helps me comprehend the core of who I am. and to set higher goals for myself so that I can become the best version of myself.

Realistic portraiture, whether it be of anime characters, favorite foods, or anything else that piques my curiosity, is one of my interests. With its blend of humor and action, anime is how I escape the everyday. I'm the odd one out in my family, so people tend to confuse my hatred of small conversation for shyness. I'm the type of person that adores in-depth discussions about literature, personal stories, and life lessons.

And don't believe it the one day I seemed to embrace my aloofness. 2019 saw me take on a karaoke challenge on New Year's Eve, which revealed my determination to do anything for the appropriate amount. I sang a song, not for praise but for the guarantee of a thousand pesos to support my ever expanding library. I'm not shy when it comes to my passions; I just know how valuable they are.

#HUMSS

[worldwright]

Good evening ! Exhausted af, didn't have time to take my naps today 😔

Finally convinced (or at least I like to think that) my mother not to give me her crutches from her surgery if (I really want this to be a when, but you never know) I get them prescribed

No meal (yet) today buuuut I had 3 snacks, including one with my mother since we went on Friday grocery shopping together because of the sales for the upcoming lunar new year and we have a strict rule of sharing any of our asiatic (or asiatic inspired) snacks. No eating them without giving one to the other

I'll try to make some pasta today or puppy-eye my brother into buying me food tomorrow, this ungrateful bitch (with all my love and hatred for him)

Also, good news ; I didn't have the need to read a lot fics today ! Just my normal amount (it's still a lot compared to the average fic reader, but idc about them lol), so that's my win for today !

A bit stressed for Friday, but that's the 9th February, and it's always a bad day for me, but I'm planning what I'm going to do on that day (mainly cuddling with Laika, the best weighted blanket ever)

Have a wonderful morning my friend !

lol I love the sharing Asian snacks policy. so real for that

I'm gonna have to become the Asian snacks dealer for my friends, cuz there's not any Asian grocery stores in the city where they live, and I'll be the only one going down to Seattle regularly lmfao

hmmmmmm I should go to that market..... there's one that I've heard great things about but haven't been to yet lol

I'm also really tired 😭😭😭😭 it's my own fault for staying up late on call with my friends, but what am I gonna do, NOT hang out with my friends?????

I'm still wrestling with the software I'm using to format my DVDs, I can't get the subtitles to look right :/ also I need to find a better sub file. hmm if it's convenient, I might batch-download a couple languages. just to have. shrug

I also ordered a bunch of yarn for a Zazie-themed poncho!!! crocheting is rlly relaxing cuz if I mess up, I can just pull it out and try again lol

d&d tonight!! I actually planned this time, it'll be fun :3

hope you find something you like to eat tonight!!

#pen pal

[what-yadoking-likes]

* It is way too dangerous to set up home delivery grocery shopping (and their getaway drivers refuse to do it for them), so every week Dallas goes through the grueling and oftentimes painful process of roping his fellow heisters into a supermarket trip.

* Some of the gang grumble about it a bit but go along, recognising it’s for the good of everyone, but some heisters do their utmost to get out of it.

* One time, Dallas receives a sick note from “Hoxton’s mum” saying that Hoxton is not well enough to go to the supermarket and is excused. Hoxton then affects a chesty cough every time he sees Dallas approaching.

* When it’s Jacket’s turn, he fiddles with the tape recorder for a bit, then plays a message: “Stealing is fun”. “No, Jacket, we’re going to pay for the groceries.” Jacket pauses, before playing, “stealing is fun” on repeat. He never breaks eye contact. Eventually Dallas backs off.

* Sokol agrees to go, then proceeds to walk around loudly asking other customers and shop assistants where he can buy bear meat, going so far as to imitate a bear when they (understandably) ask if he means beef.

* One time, Hoxton and Wolf go along together with Dallas, and it becomes a competition to see who can find the longest carrot/cucumber/vaguely phallic object. Dallas shakes his head at the list, muttering, “Bunch’ve fucking kids.”

* Everything goes well until Joy starts making up puns. “Hey Dallas, don’t you these will be EGGSELLENT”... “Dallas, d’you want a pizza me?” “Dallas, peas can we get these?” Dallas puts his head in his hands, leaning over the trolley. “How can one person know so many puns?” Little does he know Joy is surreptitiously live-streaming their shopping trip and getting suggestions from the rest of the gang in the chat.

#payday #payday 2 #is this a shitpost? Who knows #dallas #hoxton #wolf #joy #sokol #jacket #chaoticenergy #inspired by my own hatred of food shopping

[heartandfangs]

THE WORLD ENDS WITH YOU — CHAPTER ONE.

—A dark series surrounding your involvement with seven vampires and the struggle of your survival during the zombie apocalypse. GENRE Zombie Apocalypse AU, Vampire AU, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Slowburn Romance, Unrequited Love, Dark!Enhypen, Angst, Some Fluff, Action, Supernatural, Eventual Suggestive/Smut Content PAIRING f!Reader x Heeseung, f!Reader x Sunghoon, f!Reader x Jay, f!Reader x Jake, f!Reader x Enhypen CHARACTERS Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, Ni-Ki, future character's to be added WORD COUNT 3.6k RATING WARNING 18+ for violence, gore, murder, death, life-threatening situations, manipulation, abuse, degradation, morally grey characters, heavy swearing, dark themes, and future suggestive content. Do not interact if any of this triggers you or if you are a minor. SUMMARY As a lone human survivor taken against your own will, you become hostage to seven vampires whose hunger for blood continues to abound with the undead that plague what was once modern-day society. In order to survive, you agree to their pact that requires you to not only assist the seven vampires with luring in your own kind for sustenance but also to live in a symbiotic relationship with their group in exchange for shelter, food, and basic human necessities. During your extended stay, you begin to sense the growing unrest concerning their missing leader and clashing beliefs over their nefarious operations. With each passing day, their weaknesses that become apparent to you only aid your plans of escape— so at what point did a head-strong outsider like yourself begin to feel something other than hatred for a group of people who could feel nothing? AUTHOR'S NOTE This is a work of fiction and is inspired by the characters Enhypen members portray in their artistic universe and music videos. A lot of it is also inspired by some of my favorite media and my own conceptual ideas. I'm not a writer but I'm starting this story for fun and a creative outlet as a stressed-out, full-time worker. I have no solidified update schedule since my life is busy and unpredictable BUT feel free to let me know if you are interested in future installments as I actually find it quite motivating. Respect my boundaries; I'll do the same on my end, and we'll have fun around here! Likes, comments & reblogs are always appreciated. Welcome to my insane brain! © 2021, Heart and Fangs. All rights reserved. Do not translate or post anywhere without my permission. (Chapter One Under Cut)

CHAPTER ONE

Desperation clawed at your insides upon spotting a corner street Pizza Alvolo establishment not far from where you stood under the shade of surrounding buildings within the city. Its windows were intact, unlike the surrounding shops. How odd. Perhaps any looters that came before you were polite and just used the front door to avoid drawing the attention of hoards? Regardless, it felt like providence from God.

Your shadow stretched across the pavement, debris crunching under your worn black combat boots. The sun would set soon. You marked on your wrinkled map that there was a hoard you avoided about three blocks down from your current location; this was a part of town on the outskirts that you had yet to venture into.

But you were willing to take your chances for some food and shelter. If the sinks had running water you’d stay the night, it’d been too long since you had a proper shower.

You accepted the low probability of there being any sort of food left that wasn’t already expired or picked through… but at this point, you treated a can of diced tomatoes no differently than the antidote that could cure the virus.

The burning sensation of the hollow pit in your stomach felt sickeningly nauseating as you bitterly recalled late study nights spent stuffing your face with pizza that your mom would graciously buy on her way home from work.

“___, careful! Chew properly now!”

She’d set down a glass of water beside your plate and firmly pat your back when you got ahead of yourself and choked at the dinner table. “Why do you wait so late in the day to eat? There’s ramen in the pantry for a quick meal. You’re home all day, don’t starve yourself.”

“School,” you’d simply say and clear your throat before diving back into the cardboard box for another hot slice of pizza.

Skipping lunch was just way more time-efficient for your packed student schedule despite attending class remotely— plus you avoided that dreaded post-meal grogginess. It was a luxury you could afford when your priorities in life were surviving university and landing a good internship that could put your mother’s mind at semi-peace.

As you stood amid a city that had fallen after the start of the outbreak, self-preservation was the only thing that was driving every fiber of your being since it all went to hell. Your mother was always busy at work to help provide for you but she cared in her selfless ways. Now, she was—

Your chest ached as you blinked back tears and willed away memories of your not-so-distant past life. If you were honest with yourself, a mental breakdown was imminent with all that you’ve endured until now but survival instincts kept your emotions at bay. It wouldn’t do you any good to shut down in your current state.

You lost track of how long it’s been since you’ve eaten a decent meal that wasn’t canned and cold. How many weeks has it been since you’ve had to sleep inside an abandoned building every night with your back against a cold concrete wall and a knife in your hand? You’ve constantly been on the move with no one to help within a miles radius, just you, the crumbling city, and the ravaging undead.

Finishing off your last ration of canned spam four days ago nearly broke you and your water supply was a constant struggle. You never imagined finding yourself in a situation where you would have to go more than a day without food and the body aches you were experiencing for the past few days was not a good sign. Traversing from the suburban neighborhoods, every liquor store and grocery market you’d passed by on your way to the inner city had been looted completely or overrun by the hoards.

Stopping on your trek for anything aside from sleeping only caused you to panic about staying in one place for too long. Were people aware of your presence while you had no idea they loomed in the area? Would you encounter someone who wanted to steal everything you owned, loot you and leave you for dead?

Running into other people was something you’ve avoided because of their unpredictability, you refused to trust anyone while you were out here. Common sense was a resource you couldn’t afford to lose with hunger and fatigue setting into your body.

The danger of the unknown is always imminent, so you were constantly on the move. It’s not like you were ever trained in the art of survival like those contestants who would show up on those national geographic shows in the wild. No, you were relying on pure instinct at this point.

The grueling pace that you were traveling at had its consequences and you grew hungrier and weaker by the day. You couldn’t catch a break since this all started...

The shifting of a shadow far down the street drew your attention and made your breath catch in your chest. Your eyes darted to the tall buildings and piles of cars in search of whatever it belonged to. Your brain was unable to dismiss the movement so you kept your eyes peeled and began to approach the shop cautiously, fingers unstrapping the velcro at your thigh to unsheath your small, dull kitchen knife.

You wish you were being dramatic but you felt like you could kill anything for food. Maybe it was just a bird flying through the area. Sulkily wishing for a rabbit or game to pop out from the wreckage, you tried peeking into the glass facade of Pizza Alvolo.

The display cases were empty of course, but nothing looked too ravaged in there. Fantasies of food popped your mind and your mouth watered at what the storage room might hold. As the sun slipped under the horizon, the cool night air sent a shiver across your skin, spurring you on to begin rummaging for your dinner, unbeknownst to a pair of eyes locked onto your back from afar.

—

The kitchen doorway was open and allowed the moonlight to shine through part of the room, however, there wasn't enough of it to see further back in the kitchen. You remained quiet in the doorway, trying to detect any movement or sounds. Silence followed once more, so you began your looting process.

Dropping your backpack to the floor, you removed a lantern from it along with a matchbox. After adjusting the tea candle in the center of the lantern, you struck the match and pressed it to the candle wick to aid your vision in the dark, damp kitchen. The pantries were the first thing you tried, and you attempted to rummage as quietly as you possibly could.

After opening one and then another, each cabinet you swung open with a creak was empty save for some kitchen spare kitchen utensils and stacked dishes. Absolutely nothing to eat. Nothing. Feeling hopeless, you slammed the last one shut in frustration.

You would survive this night without food again, you would do it if you had to. Finish searching the place.

Your eyes landed on a pizza cutter on the counter which you pocketed; that then gave you the idea to find a knife sharpener for the dulling kitchen blade that you’d taken from your own house. You found the tool on the far end of the counter and began to sharpen your knife like you’d watched your mom do before starting to cook a rare homemade meal for a special occasion, like your birthday… The memory nearly brought you to your knees; you braced yourself against the counter, your grip on the silverware shaky. You were just so hungry and so very alone.

Just keep moving.

It made no sense to check a fridge with the electricity being out in the whole city, but you spotted it behind you and yanked it open. Then your eyes widened as you felt cool air release from the unit along with a dim light shining across your dirt-stained skin.

On a large silver tray with parchment paper under it sat a whole pizza, toppings, cheese, and all. Your jaw dropped in disbelief. There was an actual whole pizza sitting in front of you.

There was no electricity for nearly three weeks now you calculated, so how was this possible? Was there a backup generator running in this block? You should’ve checked the lights but you just assumed they didn’t work. Doing a double-take you poked at the crust; it was cold to the touch.

“Oh my god,” you nearly sobbed aloud.

The crashing of glass startled you to your core, your knife clattering to the floor. You immediately shut the freezer door, pressing your back against the side of it, hidden from the moonlit entryway of the kitchen.

Thuds of heavy boots and voices began to fill the front of the store and the candlelight across the room still flickered dimly to your horror. You had to blow it out or else risk getting discovered. You scrambled across the tile in a flurry and blew the candle out with a huff. You were barely able to press yourself into the shadows of a small nook in the wall next to janitor supplies out of view from the doorway.

Of course, you had locked the door behind you, but you weren’t counting on a group of psychos breaking in and making this much of a ruckus at night time.

“Was demolishing the windows necessary?” a gruff male voice asked, sounding exasperated. “Now anyone within half a mile's radius who’s too curious for their own good will come running, including lurkers.”

Someone else replied, “Jay. Were you going to sit there and pick the lock? No? I didn’t think so.”

“No, I was going to move on to the next block. Because that’s our plan.”

“Was our plan,” the other man corrected.

Despite your blood pulsing in your ears, you continued to listen as the man named Jay insisted. “We already had our rations for the week. If Heeseung finds out you’re going behind his back like this--”

“He’ll what? Kill me?” The other man chuckled out loud, a carefree lilt to his tone as though he didn’t give a rat's ass that the sound would attract any undead stragglers in the streets. “Are you gonna tell on me if he even gets back?”

Jay sighed lowly and said nothing further. Seems like you weren’t the only one out here who was craving something to eat. At least they had rations; you had nothing, yet.

“I’m starving, I might as well bring that pizza back as well.”

Pressing further into the shadows, heavy footsteps approached ever closer. A man’s silhouette appearing against the wall just a foot from where you hid. His shadow was distorted but his body shape almost looked like it could belong to a model. It shifted across the wall and you stopped breathing altogether, finally able to see who intruded. There was a pause in their conversation that didn’t sit right with you but they just as soon resumed talking.

“Isn’t it the last pizza?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. And how many of the bags are left?”

You peeked over your shoulder to the fridge, which to your horror, had cracked open, a sliver of light illuminating the floor and a pair of black scuffed boots. The brunette’s short hair was parted down the middle and his profile was rather refined; he was handsome you faintly noticed despite all of the adrenaline pumping through your system. You didn’t like how the few words he had spoken already put you on edge, it had something to do with his cocky demeanor.

“Looks like two weeks worth for all seven of us.”

Jay groaned at the ceiling.

“Shit.”

“Damn.”

“Fuck.”

The two shared a hearty laugh despite their circumstances.

“I need all of that on a mug,” Jay said, momentarily peering over his shoulder.

“At least Jungwon’s nice enough to grow you some corn.”

“You’re right, I have that to look forward to at least.”

As the man pulled open the door, your eyes immediately went to the massive sword strapped to his back; it was over half his height and you could tell he stood at an intimidating height. Your fingers gripped the wooden handle of the pizza cutter, readying yourself.

The other man came into view as well; he wore all black with multiple blades strapped to either of his clothed thighs. He was a bit leaner than the other and nearly the same height. Just as good looking, from the side at least. You took them both in; tall, armed, and dangerous. Your mind raced for what to do next.

Remain hidden and continue watching? Make a bolt for it? Attack? They were going to steal the pizza that you found. Your pizza. You couldn’t let them, and you wanted to believe you stood a chance despite all odds.

The man with the sword bent over to pick up a translucent bag filled with red liquid from the bottom section of the freezer that you hadn’t noticed before. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be in the shape of a… blood bag.

You deduced that they may have more resources at their disposal. Were they staying at a hospital?

The man tossed a bag in the air before catching it and shoving it into a satchel.

“Don’t worry Jay, I’ll share some with you when we get back to the precinct.”

Wait.

“Nope, You’re not gonna drag me into your bloodlust escapades.”

Wait, share?

“You’re already guilty by association, might as well go all the way.”

“No. You better find a way to make it up to the kids. Might as well take back all of the bags. This place will be crawling with lurkers by dawn thanks to you. Now hurry up, I can hear them approaching!”

Were they feeding on human blood? Cannibals? Occultists?

Unable to tear your eyes away you gasped. Both of their heads slowly turned to the dark corner that you couldn’t have shrunk further into.

“By the way, the door wasn’t locked last time we were here,” Sunghoon said, a touch of excitement coloring his voice. He tilted his head back as though to sniff the air.

“I’m well aware,” Jay sighed. “Don’t Sunghoon—.”

The man was suddenly staring down at you, his elegant features half cast in shadow, the other in the moonlight, like he was wearing a cracked porcelain mask. He just.. apparated in front of you.

“Why not?” he gave you a small smile.

Swallowing your scream, you slashed at his chest without hesitation. His reaction time was unlike anything you’ve ever seen, his movements were a blur. Next thing you knew his hands were closed around both your wrists, your back pressed against his chest, but you refused to loosen your grip on the slicer.

“Hello to you too, princess. What were you going to do, pizza slice us to death?”

“Let. Me. Go,” you struggled against him, glaring at his accomplice who merely shook his head while packing away the remaining blood bags into his satchel. Your mouth would’ve watered at the sight of him sliding pizza slices into zip lock bags if your life wasn’t in danger. “That’s mine.”

Jay’s eyebrows rose at your claim. “Oh?”

“You were as quiet as a mouse back here. You’re not staying nearby, are you?” Sunghoon glanced down at your hefty backpack curiously.

“Why don’t you let go of me then we can talk? The way you ask so many questions is so annoying,” you blurted out. Jay was unable to hold back his laughter at your off-handed comment. Sunghoon scoffed drily in amusement and his grip only tightened.

“Well, I’m sure you have a lot of questions yourself—”

“Imagine living with that,” Jay rolled his eyes.

You bit your lip to keep from saying anything else as you tried to control your breathing. Jay studied your frustrated expression and your overall disheveled visage, from your scabbed knuckles to your torn jeans and ripped denim jacket.

In such proximity to you, Sunghoon noted that under that layer of dirt and grime, there was a rather addictively sweet scent on your skin. He gave Jay a knowing look, but you were completely oblivious to the exchange.

“You’ve been on the streets for a while, haven’t you?” Jay asked.

Yes. For too long, you wanted to confide.

But you couldn’t be honest with this stranger, not while your stomach bubbled in anxiety, your heart feeling like it was about to erupt from your chest. Not while you’ve hardly slept a wink in the past weeks. Not when you were already so famished and vulnerable, and at the will of two men who could easily overpower a girl like you.

“What do you want?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You.”

Sunghoon felt you stiffen against him at his answer. The sound of lurkers growling and rasping on the streets could be heard. He twirled you around to face him and reinforced his grip on your trembling wrists. You winced as the pizza slicer fell to the ground with a clatter. “Come back with us to our hideout with us, princess. We’ve got everything you need to survive out here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you sick freaks!”

With that, you rammed the heel of your boot against the man's shin and snapped your head back against his chin, hard. His grip on you loosened and you took the split-second opportunity to slip out of his grasp, rushing to the door. The man named Jay was to your right, and you were surprised at how he stood rooted to his spot a bit taken aback, but he wore an amused expression as if he were impressed.

To your dismay, you were yanked back by the waist and thrust up hard against the wall by the throat. A mix of pain and anger flared through your body.

“Sunghoon!” Jay shouted.

“You’re testing my patience, princess. In case you’re not aware this is ground zero. There’s a lot of them out there amongst other things and you think rushing out is a smart move right now?”

“I’d rather be eaten by those mindless zombies than become dinner for cannibals like you,” you bit out, gouging your jagged dirt-caked nails into Sunghoon’s forearm. He hissed, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pain or pleasure.

“Especially a freak like you,” you dared to say, raising one of your brows.

The stunned look in his eyes shifted to something you recognized as hunger as he inclined his chin.

“We’re not that uncivilized.”

“Sunghoon,” Jay warned, gripping his partner’s forearm. His eyes were fierce as he glared at the other, then they met yours, rooting you to your spot from the sheer intensity of his expression.

“Listen closely to me. It’s going to be safer with us. I know how it feels to be starving, to not know where you’re going to lay your head at night or have your next meal. To have lost everything. You’re a survivor,” he said and you wouldn’t admit out loud how the word resonated with your whole being. “Let us help you.”

“I don’t trust you! God knows what you do to people. That’s human blood you were talking about consuming for Christ's sake. Nothing was ever for free before all this shit went down, I know that sure as hell hasn’t changed. Now let me go, you bastards.”

Sunghoon’s dark eyes darted to the outside and he unsheathed the large sword from his back with his free hand. The all too familiar noise of the walking undead was even closer than before.

“You’re smart not to,” Jay admitted. “But there’s more to the story.”

“I don’t need to know more. I don’t want to know more,” you gritted your teeth and clawed at Sunghoon’s wrist.

“Enough,” Jay shoved Sunghoon’s arm away and tenderly replaced his hand on your throat, thumb pressing gradually into your pulse, “We will provide for you, and you’ll provide for us.”

You flinched, Jay’s hand nearly wrapped around your entire throat, but you could tell his touch was different. Still, no one got away with threatening you, not for long. His black eyes regarded your struggling form, almost like voids until they shined red in the darkness.

He firmly pressed his body to yours to keep you from thrashing against him. An unexpected scent engulfed you; reminiscent of light musk and fresh blackberries you used to pick in fields as a child. It was the most delicious scent you’ve smelt since finishing the last can of your peaches.

You gasped as your arms slowly slid down to your sides as your veins began to hum. The pressure on your neck made your eyes flutter and you looked up at him, confused. The color of his eyes made you blink twice. Your knees might’ve given out if his other bandaged hand wasn’t gripping your waist. Would this be your last memory before death swallowed you up?

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“...I’ll try not to.”

His words were ambiguous and laced with something dark but you were suddenly so tired of fighting. It wasn’t like you to stop fighting, but at the same time, it was. You’d just been suppressing it. You were exhausted from the never-ending battle you fought after losing everything you cared about.

Your friends, your family, your future that was supposed to be filled with promise, meaningful relationships, and heart-stopping adventure. Not loss, fear, and loneliness.

Deep inside, you wanted to live, but not if you’d be living like how you’ve been for the past month. Still, you swore that in the end, you would never give in for as long as you lived on this damned earth.

“Okay?”

Your brain screamed back in retaliation, but you were unable to say a word before your vision went black.

#enhypen apocalypse au #enhypen zombie au #enhypen vampire apocalypse au #enhypen angst #sunghoon x reader #enhypen vampire au #jongseong x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #jayeun x reader #heeseung x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen #heeseung #jay #sunghoon #jake #sunoo #jungwon #riki #niki #iland #bighit #belift

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #mine

[dolliedarlin]

i m p l i c i t  ⏤katsuki b.

p a i r i n g : bakugou x f.reader 

s u m m a r y : ever since you were young, you were forced to meet with the person dubbed as your finance, Katsuki Bakugou, a Baron’s son who had quite the temper but peaks your interest in every way possible 

l e n g t h : 1.9k

g e n r e : olden days au ; fantasy au ; arranged marriage au ; Bakugou is a tsundere ; and we love him for it ; reader is an amazing bean that can keep up with him ; kirishima is your brother ; best brother ever ; rumours are toxic ; never base your opinions on someone solely on rumours ; you attract a stalker ; it’s not your fault ; he just as a twisted yandere mind ; Katsuki is your hero ; he makes your heart flutter ; and he makes your knees weak ; i really want someone to protect me and say what he said at the end of this 

w a r n i n g s : swearing from our lovable explosion murder king ; acts of stalker/yandere ; sword fighting

a / n : i didn’t plan on posting this but mother nature decided to pay me a visit today so i basically lazed around in my bed groaning in pain and half starving bc it was too painful to get out at times for food. instead i started writing this imagine again that i had began months ago. this is inspired by Ranma 1/2, which is an anime that i loved watching when i was much younger, it’s not well edited because i’m kinda dizzy rn but i hope you enjoy it! 

— first of all, before either you or Katsuki were born, the arrangement for your marriage to each other was already settled by your parents, hence why you were immediately introduced when you were children 

— neither of you knew what marriage or engagement meant but you both associated it with seeing each other

— it wasn’t something Katsuki liked but you didn’t quite mind it, he always gave you really interesting reactions that you quickly came to like

— as the two of you grew up together, you always tried your best to get close to him but Katsuki was adamant at pushing you away and keeping you at arms length at all times

— despite all that, you wanted to catch his attention, which meant that you took interest in all the things that he found interesting too. that included: sword fighting, horse riding, duelling ; spicy foods ; battle tactics ; magic etc 

— Katsuki always tried to ignore you but secretly appreciated how skilled you had become over the years. you were still nothing compared to him but you were able to battle against a majority of qualified knights and still be the last one standing

— he only scoffed at you because your talents were wasted; you’re too kindhearted to ever use your honed skills properly - it irritates him that other women push you to conform to etiquette, tea parties and high society when you were better than that

— you’re better than shallow conversations about the latest fashion, or the art of sipping tea, calligraphy and painting because he knows how much you train and how much effort you put into your education outside of such insignificant things

— Katsuki knows that you can handle yourself better than any other nobleman he knows of, he’s seen you help your father with his business and vigorously train with your dukedom’s knights

— what’s the point of all that effort if you weren’t going to show anything for it?

— because of that Katsuki always acted like he hated having you as his fiancée despite your optimism about him, as well as your patience and understanding of his unique way of expressing himself

— because the two of you are forced to spend a lot of time together by your parents, you’ve has been able to understand Katsuki and his mannerisms better than anyone else as your mother has always taught you to be openminded - she’s never been like the other noble ladies of society, hence why your father married her

— now, you were following in her footsteps. there’s been much gossip about your unladylike behaviour but you didn’t care, all you needed were your parents’ love and the love of Katsuki. he still needed some more time to come around but you’re positive you’ll get to him soon enough

— you’re positive there’s a different gleam in his eyes whenever he looks towards you now. it had always been one of hatred when you were much younger but his expressions frequently soften around you nowadays. 

— no matter how subtle it may be, you always notice

— many rumours circulated about you the first time you had shown your skills openly amongst the knighthood. it had first started with your knights who praised you highly but, as soon as those whisperings reached outside the dukedom, many noble ladies started to gossip about your misdemeanour. 

— surprisingly, those rumours were shut down in under a week and you didn’t know why; usually such good gossip material stayed for months and only faded with the years so it was peculiar to have it die down so quickly 

— what was suspicious was that, as soon as your rumours died down, stories about Katsuki surged forward.

— when you conversed with other people, they would say how horrible they feel for you having to marry such an aggressive and dislikable fiancee. they would then over-exaggerate all the belligerent and misunderstood characteristics of Bakugou, even making up disgusting rumours that painted him to be more villainous than he actually was.

— “how shameful,” you spat with disgust, glowering down at the noble ladies frozen in their seats, “how dare you openly gossip about my fiancee right in front of me, the nerve! you should know better than to act like such children. if you have nothing better to do then i suggest you leave the kirishima estate immediately and never expect to be invited back,” 

— they tried to beg you for forgiveness, seeing as your father held such power in high society, being one of the four noble dukes of the kingdom serving directly under the king as they all had noble blood. 

— nobody expected your father to marry you to a Baron’s son. Katsuki didn’t have a higher title than you but your fathers had gone to war together and remained loyal friends ever since, Baron Bakugou went on to acquire his title of Braon after his service in the war but many people still looked down on him from his commoner origins. to think that such educated ladies of high society would use that as leverage to gossip however they wished. 

— word of your actions on behalf of Bakugou spread quickly and the two of you became a couple that shouldn’t be trifled with.   

— after that day, you always defend Katsuki and never miss the opportunity to express how much you admire him and care for him even if he doesn’t tend to reciprocate it

— you do this when Katsuki’s friends make an appearance, they consisted of your brother, Eijiro, Denki of house Kaminari (son of Marquis Kaminari) and Hanta of house Sero (son of Marquis Sero). 

— they usually don’t visit the estate but this time they decided to utilise the knights training grounds for extra duelling practice and happened to catch you just as you were walking out, having finished your own training

— as soon as introductions and polite greetings were exchanged, came the jokes and jives.

— “I wouldn’t blame you if you eloped with someone else on your wedding day, Lady (Y/N), knowing this guy’s attitude,” Denki snickers as he points his thumb at your fiancé, who growled lowly in return.

— “i wouldn’t dare do something like that because, even if this is an arranged marriage, Katsuki will be the only man for me” Katsuki didn’t expect you to be so forward and couldn’t help the blush that coated his cheeks from your response 

— Denki whistled in a mix of astonishment and amusement, “Katsuki’s a lucky guy!” 

— “he looks really happy to hear you say that too, sis,” Eijiro teased as Hanta grinned from beside him. 

— “shut up! we came here to train so let's train already, you dumbasses!”

— the days go by and life is good; the quicker your wedding day approaches the kinder and gentler Katsuki treats you. it wasn’t until the kindness you practiced with everyone you met, no matter their status, became something more in the twisted mind of an unknown individual that you encountered within city streets, while out shopping

— one act of kindness made the stranger crave for your touch and sought you out in the most deviant method. he sent constant letters multiple times a day and even mailed one with his most intimate item of clothing, not only that but he always stood at the gates of your estate, waiting for it to be opened just to slip in and try to meet you again

— of course, he didn’t get far because of the security brought on by your dukedom’s talented knights stopped him at every devious attempt. each incident was reported directly to your brother, who was training to inherit the duchy as soon as your father retired

— Eijiro was having none of it and devised the best plan of action he could, knowing that his image as the heir of the dukedom needed to be thought of so that his people wouldn’t be against him when he took over his capable father’s place. he resisted the urge for an immediate confrontation to plan with you, about how you wanted to defuse the situation 

— however, as soon as word got to Bakugou, he ran over on foot to confront the man at your estate, just as Eijiro came down with a squadron of knights and you at his side

— lost in his own world, your stalker immediately reached out for you the instant he caught sight of your figure. on his face, he had a twisted smile and manic eyes, his breathing became heavy as if to savour the same air you breathed not too far away from him. it was frighting and chilling to see such an unhinged man. he was so deranged, he didn’t mind the swords and pointed glares directed at him by all that were present and Katsuki, who was fast approaching from behind

— “Get. Away. From. Her!” Katsuki shouted in anger as he drew his sword and slashed at the young man, making you jump back with a gasp.

— “Bakugou!” Kirishima warned as he pulled you into his chest for protection from the clashing of swords

— “Katsuki, be careful!” you cried. confronting someone with such an unstable mind could go horribly wrong and no matter how skilled your fiancee was, you couldn’t help but worry

— Even though this was the first time Katsuki ever showed his feelings for you in such a dramatic gesture, the worry you had for him consumed your joy as his opponent drew out his own sword and started lashing out with worse coordination than your junior knights. 

— what he lacked with technique, however, he made up for in agility as well as his own unpredictability. it made it hard for Katsuki to predict the path of his opponent’s sword so for a time, he was constantly dodging his blade. it didn’t take long, however, for the game of endurance and stamina to come into play and slow down his opponent enough for him to fight back with more accuracy.

— “you revolting rat!” Katsuki growled swinging his sword with might only to grind his teeth when his sword is narrowly dodged. not one to give up, however, he goes in once again and finally lands a hit that forces your stalker to crumble to his knees, “you try and pull that shit with (Y/N) again and I’ll be doing more than just beating you to the ground,” it was an obvious win for the blonde. 

— “And what would that be?” your stalker still had fight in him that came off as more irritating than anything else Bakugou had ever encountered in his life of servitude as a royal knight and baron’s son.

— just to prove his point, whatever it may be, Katsuki goes to stand beside you and pull you into his chest with his large hand at your waist   

— “landing your ugly, disgusting ass in a fucking coffin!” the venom in his voice was evident and it made you shudder, curling up into his chest for comfort, not knowing that the next words he’d shout would have your knees weaker than any training could ever do, “(Y/N) is MY Fiancee! you touch her and I’ll kill you!”

n a v i . | bnha mlist 

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #bnha olden days au #bnha fantasy au

[nikethestatue]

Forbidden

Elriel Month - Day 4, Forbidden

Pining, a little bit fluffy, a little bit angsty and plenty of Nyx if you like him

The weather was miserable, and Azriel was miserable as well.

After finishing his work at his office in the city, he would’ve typically walked, but the freezing sleet that bombarded his wings didn’t inspire walking. His mood only worsened the moment he stepped out of the building, and he found himself hating everything. Hating himself, for being a coward, hating Rhys, hating the completely innocent Cassian and Nesta, who were absolutely gracious towards him, and allowed him to remain living in, what was technically, their house now. He rose swiftly in the air, flying towards the red stone monstrosity that was carved into the mountain, while the cold rain pelted his already-freezing wings. Everything was freezing. He could’ve thrown a shield over himself, like a smart male, but he wasn’t being very smart lately. He just didn’t fucking care.

Petulant and morose, he wondered for a millionth time when and why everything went wrong for him? Why was it that the thing he loved and relished the most in his life—his family—were now the cause of his greatest despair? How could his brother, the brother who gave him his new life, who cared for and protected him, who did not judge him and gave him the opportunity to live the life Azriel wanted, who paid him generously and allowed him the freedom to operate as he saw fit—how did this brother suddenly became the impediment to Azriel’s happiness? The brother that Azriel loved and admired now outright forbade Azriel’s happiness. And over what? The ginger princeling that Azriel didn’t care for at all…as he didn’t care for the entire family. He had to sacrifice his happiness to please a Vanserra! The mere thought of it enraged him so intensely, he almost crashed into a roof. As he banked to avoid the green tiles slick with rain, he wondered if Lucien would act as honorably if the roles were reversed? Would he maintain his composure like Azriel always tried to do in Lucien’s presence? Would he fly him in his arms? (Truly, a rather horrifying memory, if Azriel had to admit. Carrying fucking Lucien Vanserra in his arms, like a babe. Like he’d carry Elain. Or even Feyre. He was forced to cradle Lucien!). Would he avoid Elain?

Elain.

Azriel wanted Elain. He always wanted her—wanted her giggly laugh, the sparkle of her caramel eyes, the flip of the braid, the surprisingly firm touch of her calloused fingers, the scent of her, the rosy blush of her cheeks. Even though he was forbidden from courting her, or pursuing her in any fashion, they still came together at family gatherings and Azriel learned of her sharp, sometimes brutal sense of humour, of her inquisitiveness, and of things that surprised him. She let it slip that she wanted to travel, wanted to see the world, the continent, all the Courts. Wanted to eat exotic foods and go to museums and botanic gardens and drink coffee in small cafes. She told him that she dreamed of going to the beach and lazing around in the white sand.

Fuck it.

Tonight, he wanted Elain. He wanted to see her with a desperation that almost hurt his bones. Even if for a few moments. Maybe just at dinnertime, under Rhys’s annoying scrutiny, but he could do it. For her, he could do it. Forbidden or not.

So, he made a sharp turn and flew away from the House of Wind, toward the River Estate. The rain was now relentless and even in his sour mood, he had the presence of mind to finally shield himself, though it did little to dispel his gloomy thoughts.

The house wasn’t warded against his entry—he still had a bedroom and an office in there, though he used it very infrequently now. Shaking off the water that was sluicing off his wings as much as he could, he opened the door and entered.

A roar greeted him. A despondent, angry, colossal roar that came from the pudgy baby that currently wheeled into the foyer in his wooden walker. Nyx was screaming like he was being gutted. His perfectly round face was wet with tears, scrunched up and so red, that Azriel feared that his nephew might be having a conniption.

“Hello?” Azriel called out, as he removed his sodden jacket, and then considered, and removed his boots, so not to drag the water and mud across the marble floor.

Nyx was still screaming angrily, looking at Azriel with a weird challenge in his blue eyes.

Shaking his head, Azriel muttered, “What is going on with you?” and then sent a coil of fluffy shadow towards Nyx. Usually, it was enough to placate the baby and allowed for a moment of reprieve. Nyx, however, watched the shadow with disgust, and as soon as it approached him, he swapped at it with his fat hand, trying to slap it away. The shadow attempted a little jump, eager to play with him, but it only caused a further scream of outrage, as Nyx lunged at it with ferocious hatred, swatting it away, until Azriel pulled all the shadows back, so not to aggravate the situation further. Nyx’s soft baby wings were tangled behind his back, since he kept flaring them in his rage, and then unsuccessfully snapping them back, so Azriel squatted in front of him and began to gently dislodge and straighten them, while Nyx wailed and squirmed in the walker. “What are you, possessed?” muttered Azriel and pulled Nyx out of the walker, and was immediately rewarded with an even louder scream, as snot and drool flew everywhere.

“Azriel!”

There she was.

Everything stopped. Azriel no longer heard Nyx’s grunting and angry squeals, as he held him and stroked his head, gently smoothing down the silky black hair.

He’d never seen Elain so…frazzled. And so beautiful. So…human.

The girl he loved was always put together, even when gardening, in her floppy hat and dungarees, she looked picture perfect. In the kitchen, in her colourful aprons that she bought from one specific shop, she was pretty and pristine. But standing in front of him right now, this was the most lovely Elain that he’d ever seen. Cauldron boil him, but Elain was wearing black…tights? Hose? He didn’t know what they were, and even if he did, he probably couldn’t form a coherent thought in his mind, because he’d never seen Elain quite so…exposed. Those long, slender legs were clad in skin-tight black tights, and there was no escaping the shape of her body, of her lean thighs, of her lovely bare feet and her manicured toes. But what jolted him even more was that she was wearing HIS shirt. One of those shirts that he wore around the house, sparred in, and generally discarded into the laundry hamper when he was done with his exercises. His mind reeled. She was wearing HIS shirt. Why? Gods above, this was the most delicious sight to ever grace his eyes.

Azriel has had many women in his life. Too many females to count. He’s even been with human women, those who dared, and wanted a bit of their own winged Fae experience. He’d seen them naked and prone, had seen them flushed with climaxes, screaming louder than Nyx was currently doing. He’d felt, tasted, touched and filled bodies of every colour and shape. Yet nothing prepared him for the barefoot Elain in her black tights and his shirt. Nothing.

Where was Rhys, for gods’ sake? Where was Feyre? The twins? Servants? Why was he left standing here, with the most desirable and gloriously attired female, all alone? His wings flared involuntarily, his body wanting, yearning for her. Wanting all of her. All of this. Everything that was forbidden to him.

Her braid was loose, honey-coloured strands escaping wantonly and spilling over her shoulder, framing her pale, rosy cheeks.

“Az, you are here!” she exclaimed, eyes widening with what he could only mark as excitement. Maybe even pleasure.

“Good evening,” he tried to sound normal, though his voice felt deep and hoarse and suddenly dropped a couple of octaves. “What is,”

“He lost Brute!” she cried in desperation. “I’ve been looking for fifteen minutes, and I can’t find it! Please,”

“Got it,” he said, tucking Nyx under his arm, like a sack of potatoes.

This was dangerous ground.

 Following their unnecessarily lavish mating ceremony, Cassian and Nesta went on their honeymoon. In Illyria. When Azriel found out, he gagged. Cassian laughed. “You can’t take her somewhere better?” Azriel wondered, shaking his head. “Anywhere is better. The fucking Spring Court is better!” Cassian slapped his shoulder and argued, “Pretty, but deadly. At least to me. I’ll kick the bucket if I spend more than 15 minutes in Spring Court and Nesta will have to bring my dead body back here.” Azriel shrugged, “Might be worth it, if she avoids going to Illyria”. “You are too harsh, brother,” was all Cassian said, though Az felt like he wasn’t harsh enough. Nevertheless, Nesta and Cassian went to Illyria and to everyone’s shock, Nesta loved it! She loved the open spaces, the rugged, wild terrain, the forests and the picturesque lakes. She liked Cassian’s secluded bungalow, which he built himself—actually, the three brothers built it together, back in the day.

One day, there was a country fair celebrating some Illyrian war hero, and Cassian made a date of it. It was a surprise for Nesta, who’d never been to one, and they spent the day wandering from attraction to attraction, eating too much fried food, riding rollercoasters, which made Nesta scream until she was hoarse, and playing games. There was a shooting competition, and Cassian insisted on participating, though he wasn’t an ace with a bow and arrow, but he figured that he was still better than the average Illyrian. He wanted to show off in front of Nesta. Turned out, the average Illyrian was in fact better than the Commander General of the Armies of the Night Court, and Cassian came in third. Third. The prize was a small stuffed bat. Shamefaced, Cassian presented Nesta with the bat, promising to do better next time. So, so much better! Nesta named the bat Brute—after her mate—and upon their return from the honeymoon, she gave the toy to Nyx. And Nyx became obsessed. Brute and Nyx were inseparable and especially after Nyx began teething, leathery Brute came very handy, as Nyx chewed and gnawed on it mercilessly.

Azriel sent his shadows to search for Brute throughout the house, while he went room to room, looking in all the places that Nyx frequented in his walker. Nyx was only nine months old, but he already managed to say a few odd words. There was ‘ma’, “Lana”—which stood for Elain, “no”, and “Boot” or “Oot” or “Boo” which all referred to Brute. Nothing for Rhys yet, much to Rhys’s chagrin. Az got “Ath”, with a lisp. And of course, everyone’s favorite – “ass” for Cass.

“I already looked there,” said Elain, as she dove under an armchair, her tight little bum up in the air, while Azriel was cursing inwardly, unable to tear his eyes off the sight, disregarding Nyx’s slobbering over his arm. Nyx was getting tired of screaming—finally—so he was mostly hiccupping, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his chubby first.

“I think I got it!” cried Azriel, once the shadows informed him that Brute has been located. He rushed up the stairs, taking three at a time, with Nyx bouncing under his arm and finally found the toy entangled in Nyx’s blanket. The first place Azriel should’ve looked. Both he and Elain were clearly off their game.

Nyx squealed with delight once Brute was safely in his hands and latched on to it with his aching gums. Tears were forgotten. Azriel lightly kissed the top of the baby’s head and then went downstairs.

Elain was awaiting them in the foyer and seeing the placated Nyx, she also gasped with delight, clapping lightly and then…she rushed and kissed Azriel’s cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he just stared at her, a smile on his lips.

“High praise for finding a toy,” he said at last, but Elain only grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers with his.

“No one is home?” he asked softly, and she gave him a knowing look, shaking her head. His thumb gently rubbed her fingers, as they walked to the kitchen.

“You will stay for dinner,” she said. More of an order.

“Yes.”

“We have to feed him,” she nodded towards Nyx.

Without releasing the baby, Azriel rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He washed Nyx’s wet, sticky face first, took out a fresh bib, which was immediately greeted with ‘no bip!”. “Yes, bib,” insisted Azriel, trying to tie it, while Nyx struggled and attempted to tear it off. Elain chuckled under her breath, watching the battle.

“He is like the Attor today!” groaned Azriel, as he finally succeeded in tying the bib, “is this how he always is? His parents need to discipline their damn kid better.”

She laughed.

“Where are they anyway?”

“The opera,” she explained.

Nothing gave Elain more pleasure than experiencing these stolen moments with Azriel.

A few months back, Rhysand, in no uncertain terms explained to her that at this point, a relationship between her and Azriel would be politically disadvantageous and therefore, ill-advised. The silver-tongued High Lord made his arguments clear, but with that irresistible firm gentleness that he employed on everyone, when he wanted something. Elain nodded, a neutral expression plastered on her face, while her heart shuttered, and something cracked in her chest. Whatever Rhysand was saying, the order was clear—she was forbidden from seeking Azriel out.

The ache…the ache inside of her only grew since then. It wasn’t an ache of sadness or despair, for deep down, Elain was absolutely sure that Azriel would find a way. He always did. And she trusted him unconditionally, knowing that nothing would stop him in his pursuit of her. Forbidden or not, they both craved each other with a wild, inexplicable hunger, and Azriel would find a way to circumvent all the restrictions that were placed on them. However, the knowledge did nothing to ease the desire that constantly coursed through her. Seeing him was a most delicious torment, a sweet, lacerating pain that never went away. When she awoke in the morning, she thought of Azriel, and when she went to bed at night, he was her last thought of the day. It was always Azriel.

He sat Nyx in his highchair.

“Are they coming back tonight?” he asked, without looking at her.

She turned away, and busied herself with Nyx’s dinner, mashing a carrot and a turnip together with a fork, mixing in a bit of cream, to make her nephew’s favorite dish.

“They are staying at the Grand Velaris Hotel for the night,” she said quietly. “Feyre just notified me. Rhys wanted to make…a night of it.”

Azriel couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. Elain froze, when she felt him behind her, his enormous looming presence like a coiled string of pure strength and power. His beautiful scarred hand gently wrapped over hers, and they pressed the fork into the vegetables together, neither paying any attention to what they were doing. His breath was warm on the back of her head—actually the top of her head—for he had to crane his neck to lay his cheek against her own, while his other hand wrapped around her hip.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, lips brushing over her ear, just short of kissing.

Absently, she dragged her fingers over the huge scarred hand that rested on her hip, her breath stalling in her chest. She became unbearably hot, heart beating so fast that she was sure that he could hear it.

“Will you stay?”

“Yes.”

His muscle-corded golden-brown arm tugged her closer, and she leaned into him, forgetting everything at once, only aware of this beautiful warrior behind her, as his powerful chest rose and fell against her back.

“Baby, I,” he began, and stopped abruptly, as if fearing that he’d made a mistake.

Baby.

‘Baby’ destroyed her.

She was never ‘baby’ to him before.

She was ‘Elain’ to him, in front of others. Once in a while, usually in Cassian’s presence, it was ‘Ellie’. More of a Cassian thing, but Azriel slipped occasionally and called her that as well. When they were completely alone, however infrequently, he let himself address her as ‘Lainey’. She loved ‘Lainey’. But he never uttered something so endearing as ‘baby’.

She turned around and looked up at him, caged comfortably within those massive arms, his golden-hazel eyes soft and loving. This look Azriel reserved for her alone. In his 539 years, no one, but Elain Archeron was privy to seeing him like this. He was undone. Ruined by this delicate woman who held his heart in her hand, as it burned with ever-present flame for her.

“Lana!” yelled Nyx, reminding them of his presence.

Azriel smirked and shook his head. She grinned and then cupped his face in her palm, as he began kissing her fingers, his hands resting on the counter behind her. For the first time, her plump, delicate breasts pushed into his chest, the material of his shirt providing bare minimum of a barrier, and he loved it, because she loved it. She loved it when he gingerly moved her breasts against his chest, and she pressed them closer into him, a silent invitation for more. More skin, more touch, more breath, more kisses, more of everything. Elain wanted everything. Elain wanted Azriel.

“Baby,” he began again, kissing the inside of her palm, “I like your shirt.”

Her brown eyes sparkled mischievously, and she looked down between their bodies, where they touched and fit together with strange, inexplicable precision, as if carved from the same flesh.

“I like this shirt too,” she assured him.

“I think you should wear it more, my beauty,” he suggested, his soft lips trailing from her wrist, up her forearm. “In fact, I think that you should wear my clothes as frequently as possible.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she admitted, and lightly kissed his chin. Yes, she had to rise on her toes to reach it, but that stunning jawline of his was too irresistible for her to ignore any longer. She kissed the subtly scratchy chin again, and again, and then moved slowly, dragging her lips towards his ear. He tensed against her, his arms pushing against her shoulders, his wings flaring lightly behind him, cocooning the two of them in the velvety darkness.

“But,” she finally wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching her body against his, feeling every bit of him. “I was thinking maybe no clothes at all would be nice as well.”

“I couldn’t disagree,” he winked at her.

“Ath!” insistent drumming pulled them out of their mutual reverie. “Lana!”

“We have to be responsible adults,” she sighed, while Azriel kissed the tip of her nose. “And feed our child.”

“You feed our wayward child,” he decided, “and I will cook dinner.”

“You might very well be the perfect man!” she laughed.

“I might be,” he shrugged nonchalantly, kissing the top of her head and releasing her from his embrace at once.

Forbidden or not, this was going to be a very nice evening.

A very nice evening indeed.

#elrielmonth #elriel #elriel fanfic #elrielmonth21 #azriel #azriel and elain #nyx #cassian and nesta #cassian #nesta #elain archeron

[uwumessenger]

random headcanons i have for each om! character teehee

hi it's been a while since ive posted some hcs bc uni has been kicking my a$$! luckily i only have a few papers to tidy up and im done. here r some hcs for each obey me character that ive accumulated over the past few months wink wonk

most are random but some constants you'll find are what i think they smell like, languages they can speak (other than their native (demon/angel) and eng/jp), and music tastes !

lucifer

i have a strong feeling that he showers twice a day: in the morning after waking up and at night before going to bed

his cologne is probably the type that will last in an elevator for like a week after he uses it once. i dont think this mf ever smells like anything other than his cologne

has a secret folder on his phone of semi-nudes and other scandalous pics from when he felt sexy at the time omg

aside from demon language/eng/jp he can speak french and knows latin

listens to classical stuff yea but he also listens to diavolos mixtapes (re: diavolo's section)

not a fan of sweets but will eat sweet things when craving

really bland sense of humor...borderline cringey 😭✋🏻

mammon

has gone to google images and searched for "inspirational quotes tumblr" "gold aesthetic tumblr" & "relatable crush post tumblr" then reposts it onto his socials or just taps thru them and giggles bc he relates

his cologne doesnt last as long as lucifers and probably smells common. he has to reapply a lot but it's a people pleasing smell. it's cheaper hence the constant reapplying

he probably does have an expensive bottle but is the type to totally overspray...eek

he is canonically a car guy 🥲 and probably tells the one in his room good morning & good night + kisses the hood every once in a while. has tons of car magazines

he doesnt really speak other languages but has attempted to learn spanish before

listens to whatever is on the radio. doesnt rly stan anyone but he eventually will listen to mc's playlist and mc's playlist ONLY

levi

lurks on mc's socials ALL THE TIMEEEE like he will rewatch ur stories and scroll thru ur feed and overanalyze ur tweets/rts or blog posts. if ur mc isnt the type to use sns much he still googles ur name all the damn time just to find any sites u might be on fjdjdjdjskks

probably streams on whatever youtube or twitch devildom site equivalent there is, but only has like 40 or so followers. which he is okay with!

until he sees someone else who gets more attention than him. then the envy starts kicking in bad. especially if they suck 🧍🏻‍♀️

classic gamer boy smell. you know, sweat, tears, must, and (sometimes) axe deodorant. lucifer has to do a scent check before he goes out to any event & lets him use his cologne. how sweet!

kpop stan!! more girl groups than anything and his ults are probably GIRLS GENERATION, wonder girls, twice, loona, & red velvet

cried when ioi disbanded and refused to leave his room. the only thing u could hear was downpour on loop at full blast

can also speak korean & communicate in echolocation like dolphins 😏

satan

listens to country music you cant change my mind

smells like whatever environment he is in. he doesnt really have a designated smell just throws some deodorant on and goes about his day.

he's sooooo bad at driving...gets road rage way too often so his license has been REVOKED

but hes totally a backseat driver. needs to be sedated on long trips

do not let him watch finding nemo when luke asks to watch it. it's not worth it. he will cause mass destruction.

if he was a human or lived long term in the human world he totally has the ability to be a doctor

is studying as many languages as possible, but he mostly knows latin & french & german etc etc. wants to learn all the dead languages out of curiousity

asmo

dont think this mf has ever held down a relationship. ever

he doesnt compromise much & is not willing to change his lifestyle to fit an s/o into it. you keep up with how he lives or it just isnt meant to be (but dont worry! he'll eventually learn...maybe,,,,)

has the hardest time out of everyone when it comes to breaking bad habits

his smell varies bc he uses a variety of perfumes (whatever is the most popular at the time) but he probably sticks to floral and fresh scents. he never uses generic people pleaser scents like mammon

listens to electropop, mainstream pop, & some alternative rock

as for languages he too knows french, spanish, italian, etc. in general, if it's a romance language he knows it!

opposite of lucifer in the sense where he loves sweets and will refrain from eating too many bitter things

i think we all know that asmo is the biggest rockstar of the group! he's probably been in a boy band at least once, but now he makes his own music

has tried to teach mammon how to sing once. ended up in a broken piano and bleeding ears...

beel

i feel like he is SO SHY

like unless ur close to him he will not start conversations or anything

i think he listens to r&b a lot ! and jazz 😎 maybe rock as well

smells like ur typical athlete with undertones of wet wipes. he carries them around bc he likes to clean his hands before he eats & is prepared for when theres no sink nearby

he can drive and he drives really well. no rough turns, parallel parks perfectly, and never has problems with merging

driving with beel is probably really soothing. left hand is steering the other is gripping ur thigh 😫

dont think hes really fluent in any other language but hes probably semi fluent in korean because levi wanted beel to help him out

definitely know how to order food in practically every language tho HAHAHA

belphie

he reminds me of randall from monsters inc

smells kinda musty IM SORRY but not the way levi does hes more like the kind of musty u feel or smell when it's a shitty morning

but that's only because hes so lazy, when he cleans up hes like satan

has definitely murdered multiple people before. mc is not the first 😐✋🏻

with that being said belphie has been put into prison at least twice when visiting the human world, the mf had such a strong hatred for humans theres no way he never got into trouble before

lucifer probably broke him out and they used the pen thingies from men in black to erase everyones memory of that 🙄

dont think he listens to anything other than music that'll put him to sleep. really likes lazy song by bruno mars but thinks that bruno mars put too much effort into the song. should have been one acapella verse and then finish

similar to beel hes only semi fluent in one language, probably french bc of lucifer. doesnt remember much but knows a couple of lullabies and bedtime stories

the sandman used to be his bff until they drifted. they do, however, like and comment on each other's sns posts.

diavolo

once he found out who nicki minaj was he became her #1 stan

def an ariana grande stan too 😌

choreographs dances when hes stressed...idk just seems like a diavolo thing to do

also makes rly bad soundcloud rap music sometimes. turns to poetry when hes feeling emo but only lucifer knows this. barbatos is suspicious of him but doesnt have enough evidence to confirm.

his dad is like hudson abadeer from adventure time aka marceline's dad? something must have influenced him to want to unite the 3 realms + he would need the approval to do so, so his dad must be more chill than all the others before him 🧍🏻‍♀️ IDK ok anyway

currently going through his hamilton phase bc of mc. whether mc's intent was to get him hooked onto it or just to explain it bc of something he saw online, he tells everyone that he found out abt it bc of mc!

this man cannot drive his skills are only second to jumin han

not too fond of many languages but knows the widely spoken ones like spanish, mandarin, etc. if it's taught in high school he knows it

smells like a las vegas casino. not sure why but i feel like he does. but there's also an interesting & nice smell to him if he embraces you. it's a smell you cant quite identify. but it smells nostalgic, it's mysterious, and it's tempting.

barbatos

very calm demeanor but underneath hes WILD hes probably done everything at least once oof

he just has a lot of control and stability over himself (must be nice!)

on a more angsty note i feel like he might have had his heartbroken sO BAD IDK he is hurting and maybe that's why hes so willing to obey diavolo and not abuse his time lord power thingies bc he learned his lesson the hard way

mans is so smart he knows every language you could switch languages mid conversation with him and he wouldnt be thrown off. he'd probably start speaking it too.

BUT HE SPEAKS VIET P E R F E C T L Y

listens to the same stuff as lucifer but also likes eminem. likes the movie 8 mile but criticized it heavily

have you ever been to a chinese herb shop? naturally, he smells like that. his room probably smells like it too. he doesnt really have a significant smell like some of the others

when he bakes he smells like whatever hes baking tho

one of the few out of everyone listed to have been able to travel to literally everywhere

solomon

was probably on kitchen nightmares once, but only to get feedback from chef gordon ramsay. then he used his magic to prevent the episode from airing...

was in an orchestra, one of the best times of his life. played the violin. asmo watched him in the audience once, but didnt approach him until well after that performance.

he CANNOT sing. he can, however, rap.

doesnt listen to music. he listens to podcasts! but every now and then he turns on background music, but prefers it to be instrumental stuff

never wears sunglasses. also does not have a driver's license. cannot drive a regular car. could maybe fly an airplane.

due to his immortality he has learned almost every language to exist, but finds himself speaking mandarin the most. knows most dialects too

similar smell to barbatos but u can also smell some sunscreen on him too. like, generic beach day suncreen

he has a lot of pact marks, so he once had the idea to match foundation to his skin. it took him two weeks but he eventually perfected a combination. yes he will help u find ur perfect shade if u ask him to

simeon

another country music man. has also made a tiktok or two to that one song that goes "he cant even bait a hook." they are private tho

angel country music exists and simeon invented it

if he visits the human world and wears more causal clothing he probably tucks his shirt into his pants

wears a speedo at the beach i tell u, speedo at the beach

he can speak german...i can feel it

uses his pointer finger to type and holds the phone like 2 inches away from his face so sometimes his nose will push a key hence all his typos

has no signature smell. he simply smells like your favorite scent all the time. if multiple people are around him at once, everyone smells a different smell. it's pretty rad

"what does he smell like to himself?" u may be asking. hmm...a church? 💀

luke

his first pet was a goldfish and a few months before the exchange program happened, he was given a koi pond!

secretly likes hanging out with levi sometimes just to play with henry. makes him miss his pet fish back home

so his favorite movie is probably finding nemo and he threw a fit when nemo touched the butt

luke is probably learning german bc of simeon, though he'd like to learn more of the dead languages just for fun

i dont think he listens to music often or has any preferences, he just listens to whatever is playing on the radio

but he finds himself listening to the music mc listens to

smells like freshly baked goods all the time. or fresh laundry. but like, not combined. just depends on the day

#i cant wait for finals to be over #HASHTAG TIME HCNDNDNSN SO MANY #obey me tingz #obey me #obey me! #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #om! headcanons #omswd #obey me imagines

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis is pining for Harry. We hope you’ll enjoy this list. We also have a mutual pining rec list here and we will have a pining Harry rec list eventually. Happy reading!

1) Down On Your Knees, You Don’t Look So Tall | Explicit | 3445 words

Louis and Harry are friends, and best ones at that. Louis loves Harry more fiercely more than he's ever loved anyone, so he doesn't really have a problem with it when they start doing this thing. this wonderful, wonderful thing.

2) You Had Me At Hello | Explicit | 4529 words

Louis works in the shop next to Harry's cupcake shop.   Louis pines after Harry until he goes into a heat and Harry finally catches up.

3) Just Like Live Wires | Explicit | 5427 words

Harry climbs into Louis’ bed when he’s cold. Louis pines.

4) Something To Live For | Mature | 5535 words

After over a century of waiting for Harry to realize they're mates,  Louis gets his heart broken when his friend announces he's found his 'one' in a human girl named Teresa. Wanting only happiness for Harry, Louis accepts that it just wasn't meant to be and decides it's time to let go of the immortal life.

5) Five Times Harry Styles Was Jealous | Mature | 6184 words

Harry's jealous all the time but there were five times that definitely stand out. Five times that changed Louis and Harry's relationship.

6) On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine | Explicit | 9261 words

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.  

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

7) Let The Beating Waves Come Drag Me Down | Explicit | 9447 words

“Just try it, the worst thing that could ever happen it’s that you won’t like it” Niall had told him. And there he was, on the way to one of these pubs created for perverts, willing to break up the routine to try something new, something that terrified as much as excited him.

One night to get swept up in passion, one night to let the devil get in.

"Tonight, I’m going to make you scream of ecstasy Louis,” he said with a raspy voice full of control, making him tremble with anticipation.

8) Got It Right Such A Long Time Ago | Explicit | 9699

There are a lot of people Harry might expect to find on his doorstep at three o’clock in the afternoon these days.

It could be the delivery man, come to drop off the pair of boots Harry impulsively ordered online last week. It could be one of his neighbors, dropping by to complain about how a party he’d thrown weeks ago had clogged up the street. It could also be any number of his friends in L.A., who stop by unannounced most days to mooch off Harry’s food or whisk him away to try some new yogurt shop.

As a rule, it definitely cannot be Louis Tomlinson, although Harry’s blinked at least three times now, and it’s still Louis standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a duffel bag at his feet.

9) You Know What They Say | Explicit | 10232 words

Nice guys always finish last.

10) Call If You Need Me | Explicit | 10770 words

If anyone asks later on, Louis plans to tell them that it’s all Niall’s fault.

11) Love Is Like This; Not A Heartbeat, But A Moan | Explicit | 13150 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

12) Just Let Me | Mature | 14714 words

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

13) We’re the New Romantics | Explicit | 16054 words

Alternatively, a high school au where Louis pines and Harry is not who he seems to be. Featuring peanut butter banana milkshakes, motorcycles, and first times.

14) Wait For Me (To Come Home) | Explicit | 16066 words

A future fic of time stamps where Louis finally comes to grips with a love he'd denied for too long.

15) Deflower Me | Explicit | 20154 words

Louis is a proud virgin, and no matter how much society tries to make him feel like a freak for not acting on his natural urges, he doesn't suffer from his lack of experience. He has never felt drawn to someone in a way that made him want to get involved sexually with them, and he isn't planning on rushing himself so he can get some because people think it's what he should do.

In walks Fratboy, the Serial Haunter of His (wet) Dreams, who thankfully has a little business going on that might be just what Louis needs.

16) I Wanna Be More Than Friends | Not Rated | 20721 words

The one where Harry’s an alpha with no sense of smell, Louis’ an omega who isn’t allowed to scent his best friend, and that’s all they’ll ever be. Obviously.

17) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

18) Ours Are The Moments I Play In The Dark | Mature | 30830 words

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

19) If Ignorance Be Bliss | Mature | 30429 words

Uni AU: Harry is too experienced, and Louis just wants to get to experience him.

20) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words

The accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

21) Mark My Word (We Gon’ Be Alright) | Explicit | 35524 words

"He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that."

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39831 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) Eyes Off You I Explicit | 39396 words

A Charlie’s Angels inspired fic where Louis is the brains, Harry is the charm, Liam is the muscle, and Niall drives the getaway car - and Zayn is there, too. sometimes.

24) Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free (Nut Please Don't Bite) | Mature | 42074 words

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

"...Louis wanted him so badly. Wanted Harry to pick him up, bite him, and break him. Make Louis his, make Louis cry, make Louis a beautiful, plump, pregnant omega..."

25) Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Aches | Explicit | 46625 words

A Friends with Benefits AU, in which Louis falls in love and Harry is jealous. There is some Karaoke singing somewhere in there, because how do you write a romantic comedy without a Karaoke scene?

26) Underneath The Moon | Mature | 46927 words

In five years’ time, Louis would be the one saying to his students about how he knew the great Harry Styles, in a time before he had ever put out an album or performed on a real stage. Harry fucking Styles had been his best friend and he still loved him, he always would. But they couldn’t stay that way.

27) The Sidelines | Explicit | 47078 words

Note: There are mentions of Top Louis.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can’t stand one another, since they can’t keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other.

28) Waiting For The Tides To Meet | Explicit | 59873 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

29) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83615 words | Sequel

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

30) Inevitable | Explicit | 185917 words

AU where Louis and Harry used to be more than friends, but everything had to change the day Harry introduces Louis to his new girlfriend.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #pining louis #blp fic recs #blp

[notnctu]

nct by the hour❀

▸ in which each member represents an hour of your extremely long day. its a similar concept to all the different people you encounter on a daily basis. read in chronological order!

▸[a/n] it’s author doie❀! inspired by @okmica‘s nct as types of boys ; im sorry u got notified twice bc i accidentally posted my draft lolol,, but anyways ur post absolutely butters my toast hehe idk what i wrote honestly lol 

RENJUN ▸ 4:02 a.m

your own personal alarm clock, light pats on your shoulder and tiny whispers, stumbles in the dark, takes off his warm hoodie to slip onto you, leaves your door open, places a granola bar for you on the kitchen counter, the first smile of your day

HENDERY▸ 5:06 a.m

a burst of energy ride to work, brings you freshly squeezed orange juice, plays upbeat music, is overly excited to start the day, points out the sunrise, takes the scenic route bc it makes you happy

KUN ▸ 6:03 a.m

the calm and collected shift lead, greets you with good morning without a fail, goes over the work breakdown with enthusiasm, notices you did something different with your hair, says you’re his best employee

XIAOJUN ▸ 7:09 a.m

a quiet company during work prep, silently takes care of the coffee machinery, counts the money so you don’t have to, soft chuckles when arranging the display pastries, tired gazes, mutual hatred for morning shifts

JOHNNY ▸ 8:00 a.m

the very attractive regular who always gets black coffee, remembers your name, engages in small talk, touches finger tips when you give him his drink, tips $10 every time, wishes you a good day

YANGYANG ▸ 9:10 a.m

always takes up the corner of the shop, scatters his textbooks on two tables, gets awfully shy when you offer him a pastry, pushes his glasses up every three seconds, orders hot chocolate, talks to you when there are no customers in line

TAEIL ▸ 10:13 a.m

asks you for recommendations, holds up the line, compliments the pins on your apron, goes by the alias ‘moon’, is a rewards member, quirky conversations about the weather, hopes to see you tomorrow

JISUNG ▸ 11:01 a.m

the new trainee that nods to everything you teach him, fumbles with the espresso machine, doesn’t talk much, pouts whenever he messes up, thinks you’re the best at explanations, gets nervous when you don’t have the same shifts, admires you deeply

MARK ▸ 12:15 p.m

your break buddy who works next door, smells like pizza dough, shares his slice with you, always thankful that you bring him a drink, funny stories about customers, heavy sighs when break is over, never wants to leave you

CHENLE ▸ 1:00 p.m

the cheerful employee who takes your spot at the end of your shift, screams your name out of pure joy of seeing you, begs you not to go, dramatic wails of disappointment, excitedly waves goodbye over the cash register 

YUTA ▸ 2:05 p.m

works at your local grocery store, helps you get something from the top shelf, throws in a bag of free candy bc he likes you, asks about how you are, gives you store discount, always acknowledges that you smell like coffee, carries your groceries to your car

JUNGWOO ▸ 3:20 p.m

the spunky waiter at your favorite restaurant, always puts your order in before you arrive, beaming smiles the moment you walk through the door, hugs you quickly, thinks you look cute today, ushers you out urgently with a small pat on your head

JAEMIN ▸ 4:03 p.m

cuddles you while you two nap, runs his fingers through your hair gently, forehead kisses, rubs circles on your shoulder, makes sure you fall asleep first, draws you into his side, forgets to set an alarm

WINWIN ▸ 5:30 p.m

misses you during lecture, rolls his eyes when he hands you his notes, grumbles about you owing him snacks, sarcastic jokes about you oversleeping, important due dates, walks you to your next class, attentively listens to your troubles

HAECHAN ▸ 6:12 p.m

takes you out to new restaurants for dinner, orders way too much, gossips about your mutuals, feeds you small spoonful bites, remembers your favorite kinds of foods, jokes playfully about how you have poor taste buds, covers the bill and doesn’t let you pay him back

JENO ▸ 7:07 p.m

the cute club leader who makes announcements, makes an effort to introduce himself personally, firm handshakes, notices you from across the room, very surface level conversations, notable eye smile that makes him even cuter, wants to get to know you better

DOYOUNG ▸ 8:03 p.m

your study buddy who hasn’t left the library since the morning, offers his jacket so you don’t get cold, proudly shows you his full set of completed flashcards, ruffles your hair whenever you rest against the table, clearly claims that he adores you, silently loves your company

JAEHYUN ▸ 9:06 p.m

the familiar handsome stranger who always meets you in the elevator, presses all the floors to spend more time with you, flashes his dimples in hopes to charm you, awkwardly sparks up a conversation, politely asks if you’d want to hang out sometime

TEN ▸ 10:00 p.m

steals you away from your studies to get ice cream, doesn’t hesitate to order your favorite flavor for you, tries to bite from your cone, always tells you to get plenty of rest, playful giggles when he teases you about your love life, wishes you had more time for him

LUCAS ▸ 11:02 p.m

the party animal who never fails to invite you over, respects your decision to not drink tonight, still comically asks you to dance with him, hypes up your awful moves, thinks you’re the most fun to be around, can be himself with you

TAEYONG ▸ 12:00 a.m

the open arms you love coming home to, readily available to hear about your entire day, gets the water started for you, droopy eyes and long yawns, tucks you into bed, holds you until you fall asleep, softly closes your door on his way out, the last smile of your day

#nct #nct scenarios #nct as #nct reactions #nct fluff #nct soft hours #nct ot21 #wayv #nct dream #nct u #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct 127 scenario #wayv scenarios #wayv scenario #nct angst #wayv reactions #nct headcanons #neo culture technology #nct scenario #nct drabbles #nct timestamps #kpop #kpop scenarios

[an-ambivalent]

Evocative

Fandom: Haikyuu!! 

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader | Pure fluff; writing drabbles full of love for Oikawa because the lack of it, and because it is what he deserves.

Status: Possibly part of my a new drabbles series for Oikawa, titled Roses, Violets & Us.  But I’ll see lol. 

Sometimes, it’s overwhelming — circumstances, thoughts, emotions, and feelings. There are times when it is anger, the pure unadulterated rage that is so overwhelming, you can’t speak. There’s nothing you can do except for just standing still with wide eyes and shaking fists. Another time, it might be sorrow; an inevitable heartbreaking moment that plunges so much melancholy into your soul that you can’t do anything except for weep silently in the comfort of your own darkness. In some moments, it is hatred for everything — hatred for the people who hurt us, hatred for the selfish people without an ounce of sympathy, and hatred for the unfairness we go through. But in better times, in times that follow the darkness, there is joy. Moments of uncontrollable laughter where breathing is a struggle, tears gather at the corner of crinkled eyes, and only the sound of wheezing is audible. In times when it’s not hatred, there is love. Love for the little miraculous moments which make your heart melt in warmth; love for people who make you feel safe when the whole world seems against you, love for those who can earn your trust enough that you can be vulnerable around them. 

The first few feelings, it was normal for you to feel them on a daily basis. At work, when a colleague with no brain cells acted like they were the best. At school, during a group project when all the work was put on your shoulders and no one else carried their weight. At home, when no one left you alone. Sometimes, it was feeling indignant during grocery shopping when someone would block an aisle with their trolley — all sorts of situations can easily evoke negative emotions. 

But Tooru? Where could you even start…. Tooru brought feelings and sensations that you would have never guessed. He brought a type of contentment into your life that made you feel at peace. From the morning, when Tooru woke you up with the most tender kiss and the greeting, “good morning my love,” to breakfast adventures when the two of you would cheekily rub food on each other’s cheeks during breakfast preparation, had your lips stretched widely into a smile. The way he dedicated himself to work hard towards his ambitions, inspired you to be just as dedicated and work hard towards your own goals, so he would be proud of you the way you were proud of him. He brought out the best in you. 

In times, when you were naturally susceptible to magnifying the negatives in a situation to bring yourself down or make yourself feel worse, Tooru was there as the pillar  who kept you up. From his silly shenanigans and whining until you gave him attention and cuddles, to his firm hugs he gave you at your lowest moments in order to give you strength; he overwhelmed you with love, he overwhelmed you with so much courage. You never gave up. You always tried, and will always continue to try, if for nothing but for him. 

Tooru loved the way you brightened up his life. Your relationship with him like all relationships, it was far from perfect. But the imperfections that existed for the two of you, they were the imperfections he never minded working hard towards to change and improve. Although things could become challenging, he would always tried harder for you, and you would always try harder for him; it wasn’t one person giving it all, and one person taking it all. You were two individuals who brought their own  pros and cons to the relationship, two individuals who gave it their all, took all, and worked together as a team. 

Tooru loved how sensitive you were. He loved your passion and empathy. Even in times when you were overburden with your own share of pain, despite what you may have said in times of anger and sadness, he knew you never stopped caring. That was such a raw and powerful strength -- you still cared for others when you felt like your own pain was going to kill you; he really admired you. 

The look of utter and pure adoration in his eyes caused your stomach to feel like it was twisting inwards in itself. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing. Uncomfortable, because it was still difficult for you to fathom how someone you loved and admired so much could look at you the same way. And embarrassing because at the most unexpected moments, he would open the windows to his soul, and let every emotion express itself in his eyes. 

You could feel your heart-beat quickening, and tears wanting to gather at the corner of your eyes, but none fell down. It was not tears of sadness, but tears for the evocative love he overwhelmed you with. You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve it, and you weren’t sure how you had managed to snag it. 

“I love you,” Tooru whispered, and he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. You smiled widely, and nuzzled your face into his chest, and tightened your arms around his build. 

“I love you too.” 

#oikawa x reader #tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #anime x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #oikawa tooru fanfiction #seijoh x reader #oikawa drabble #evocative #roses violets and us #ambivalent writes

[studiopeachz]

Task Brainstorm & Research

What am I passionate about?

Food

Cultures

Traveling

Music

tattoos/illustrations/designs

art/painting/drawing

Mental health

Self discovering/acceptance/explorations/expressions

What do you wish more people understood?

I wish people understood more about the different forms of self expression through different ways such as art, design, fashion, literature, etc. 

I wish people understood more about human rights, or general personal choices without judgement

What do you feel strongly about?

I feel strongly about self love and acceptance because the factors of accepting ourselves can be hard but can make us flourish, and gives us opportunities to express how we feel 

What makes you feel good?

Art in different forms makes me feel good has it drives my curiosity to learn and dig deeper for meaningful things

Beauty and self acceptance, embracing our imperfections

Wise words/sayings that inspire and impact me and others in a positive way

What makes me unhappy?

As an empathetic person, I feel unhappy for the one who also feels unhappy or any certain unstable emotions.

Making mistakes also make me upset as it is hard to admit our own wrong doings

Stereotypes, because it gives us an invalid label to individuals which do not define us as a whole

I don’t like when people judge you right away without knowing you

If you could fix something, what would it be?

I would want to fix the past mistakes i have done, wishing i could of done better

I would of want to fix the moments that I wish i could of done or fulfilled which leads to present regrets

What would you like to see in the future?

I would like to see everyone in the world to be kinder, and more understanding towards each other as it gives opportunities to get to know individuals truly, without having to judge them right away.

I would also like to see people normalizing natural and imperfect things and different creations of forms of self expression without any judgement, but curiosity instead. 

What would you like to shine a light on?

I would like to raise awareness about the beauty of differences and self expression, even in peculiar artistic ways

What do you see that others don’t see?

As an optimistic person, I like to see the good in everything, therefore I have this willingness to listen and to understand situations, stories, and journeys of others.

I find the most imperfect things to be beautiful. 

Things about Gen Z

https://www.livingfacts.org/en/articles/2020/meet-gen-z 

https://danschawbel.com/blog/39-of-the-most-interesting-facts-about-generation-z/ 

Demographics

Gen Zers are also the most diverse generation. Research by the Center determined that nearly half (48%) of 6- to 21-year-old Gen Zers are racial or ethnic minorities, compared with 39% of Millennials in that age bracket in 2002 and more than double the percentage of early Baby Boomers in 1968.

Attitudes

In many instances, the youngest generation’s views follow Millennials’ social attitudes, and are in stark contrast to the oldest group, the Silent Generation, with Baby Boomers and Gen Xers falling in the middle.

For example, 70% of Gen Zers say government should do more to solve societal problems, rather than leaving it to businesses and individuals. By comparison, 64% of Millennials and only 39% of Silents say government should do more. Similarly, roughly 6 in 10 Gen Zers and Millennials say increasing racial and ethnic diversity is good for society, compared with about 4 in 10 Silents.

Gen Z’s as consumers 

55% of Gen Z would rather buy clothes online and 53% would rather buy books and electronics online. [JWT]

Their favorite items to spend money on are food and drink (36%), going out with friends (32%) and clothes (18%). [Visa]

66% want to own both houses and cars in their lifetimes. [Deep Focus]

Gen Z’s most used tech devices are the smartphone (15.4 hours/week), TV (13.2 hours/week) and a laptop (10.6 hours/week). [Vision Critical]

50% would look on their phone to look for a better price while shopping at a retail store. [Gen HQ]

63% are concerned when it comes to protecting their identity when paying with a debit or credit card online or in a retail store. [Gen HQ]

Gen Z values

76% are concerned about man’s impact on the planet. [JWT]

79% of display symptoms of emotional distress when kept away from their personal electronic devices. [University of Maryland]

90% would be upset if they had to give up their Internet connection while only 51% would give up eating out and 56% would give up downloading music. [JWT]

84% multitask with an Internet-connected device while watching TV. [Forrester Research]

They have more than 10 apps on their smartphone with 10% having more than 40. [Visa]

60% of Gen Zs say “a lot of money” is a sign of success. [Deep Focus]

What are some general Gen Z issues/behaviours/values: 

Social anxiety (mental health)

Racial equality

Gender identity

Self esteem

Political and social issues

Technology/ social media content

Personal beliefs and values in comparison to older generations 

Speaking up/inner voice

Stress response

Optimistic attitude “it is what it is”

Three Campaign Ideas relatable to Gen Z demographic In Aotearoa:

(self expression)

gender identity / fashion & style / art & design / illustration / ink / skin art - tattoos

(self acceptance & confidence)

Body Image & Positivity / cultural roots / growth / well-being / 

(cultural diversity)

Culture / tradition / ethnicity / foundation / 

Research Gen z with self expression, self acceptance, and cultural diversity

WHAT DOES SELF-EXPRESSION REALLY MEAN TO GEN Z?https://www.havaspeople.com/project/what-does-self-expression-really-mean-to-gen-z/ 

We always knew that Gen Z would be distinctive. They are the first true digital natives, and grew up during times of uncertainty (the wake of the last financial crisis and Brexit in the UK). But over the last year the identity of this generation has been further shaped in a profound way as some of their most formative years are taking place against the backdrop of a global pandemic, with the significant interruptions that has wrought to school, university, and early working lives, as well as social connections. Gen Z were on the precipice of progress when COVID hit “pause” on life. And yet many Gen Zers are emerging as resilient, energized, and eager to express themselves and have their voices heard.

Rinsta (real) and Finsta (fake) social media accounts, often to keep certain aspects of their life hidden from family, potential employers, and others outside of their close social circles). Yet – on the whole – they trust the technology brands and platforms themselves.

69% of Gen Z believe that brands should make their stance on social and political issues known publicly. I believe this is what Gen Z mean by brand authenticity. 

showing us that authenticity does not just mean having a clear point of view, but also using your clout as a brand to share and amplify the causes that matter to you. 

showing your own alignment with the purpose and intent of a brand. Gen Z see the brands who they follow, ‘like’, and buy as a personal reflection of them as individuals, which is why they are prepared to pay more for brands that they believe support sustainability. If that’s how profoundly Gen Zers believe the impact of their consumer choices can affect the way they express themselves, it stands to reason that this will cut even deeper with regard to career choices, which is one of the reasons

This seems an important aspect of self-expression. Gen Z share a willingness to discuss issues in an open reflective way, and to seek out different opinions, which is one reason social channels are increasingly viewed as credible sources of news. To give another example, Gen Z are more comfortable talking about mental health issues than previous generations. While this can be attributed in part to the overall rise in awareness and acceptance of mental health issues over the last fifteen years, it is a noticeable shift from previous generations.

https://extremereach.com/blog/for-gen-z-consumption-is-about-self-expression/ “Consumption for this generation is an expression of individual identity.”

“Some people are angry and resentful because they feel like their voice isn’t heard, so clothing is a space where they can be self-governed.”

They’re experiencing brands in every corner of their online life and so these same “brands need to beware this generation’s discernment because they have a bloodhound-like nose for inauthenticity.”

We’ve been more empowered than ever, so why are Gen-Z the least confident generation yet? https://www.glamourmagazine.co.uk/article/gen-z-least-confident-generation 

Indeed, statistics show that, instead of a defining feeling of hope among Gen Z, there is a groaning sense of pessimism - of hopelessness. Long running research from University College London, revealed earlier this year that depression levels are two-thirds higher than millennials. The study found 14.8 per cent of 14-year-olds in 2015 said they were depressed, compared to 9 per cent in 2005. While 14.4 per cent of young people said they had self-harmed, compared to 11.8 per cent a decade ago.

“I feel like Gen Z and millennials occupy a really interesting place in politics,” says Nogia, 20 “- we’ve only known austerity, we’ve only know casual work, we’ve only know life long sentences of debt for getting an education and we’re living in an age of populism and hatred in politics.”

So, is this having a detrimental effect on a generation’s mental health and personal confidence? Pretty much.

Youth Engagement Officer at YoungMinds, “Young people today have to navigate a huge range of pressures, from school or university stress, to worries over their career and housing prospects, to the rise of social media, which can make problems like bullying or body image issues more intense than they were in the past.”

Social media is - predictably - a major cause of generational anxiety. Not only is it connecting us to the world’s most depressing news stories, it is also connecting us to a plethora of airbrushed, Facetuned accounts making us feel terrible about ourselves. No wonder confidence is low.

Gen Z demands more diversity and inclusion from brands https://www.campaignlive.com/article/gen-z-demands-diversity-inclusion-brands/1705491 

Gen Zers made clear throughout the study that they want brands to step up their efforts around representation. For example, 76% of Gen Zers said they feel diversity and inclusion is an important topic for brands to address, compared to 72% of millennials, 63% of Gen Xers and 46% of Baby Boomers who felt the same.

“Consumers don't want to see brands making an effort to be inclusive just for means of publicity,” said Jenna Stearns, researcher at quantilope and lead on the report. “They want to see something that's authentic and consistent.”

But brands that resonate most with Gen Z consumers are consistent in their support of social justice. Target, for example, has been vocal around LGBTQIA awareness and Pride month for years, said Steph Rand, senior research consultant at quantilope. 

“These brands are rising to the top because they are sustaining and consistently making [these issues] a priority, either in their communications or around the content they produce,” Rand said.

Responses regarding representation also varied by race, gender and sexual orientation. Individuals responded they feel their gender is more represented in mainstream media (70% male; 66% female) and brand advertising (71% male; 68% female) than their sexual orientation or ethnicity.

In 2021, consumers hope to see more individuals with disabilities represented in advertising and media, as well as more authentic PR backed up by action.

Integrated Awareness Campaign Examples:

Self Expression Campaign example: https://www.lsnglobal.com/youth/article/24865/a-kombucha-campaign-that-celebrates-self-expression 

Los Angeles – Health-Ade Kombucha’s latest campaign targets a new generation of health-conscious drinkers.

The campaign, You Brew You, introduces the brand’s new flavour and packaging concepts, as well celebrating the popularisation of kombucha. Diverging from traditional drinks advertising, it features a series of young models in bright clothing with colourful, neon-lit backdrops.

While kombucha brands tend to communicate in a way that focuses on health, wellness and fitness activities such as yoga, Health-Ade Kombucha is on a mission to change the image of the beverage and target a new generation of digitally-native consumers.

As the younger generation look to the future and consider how drinking impacts their health, they are turning towards soft drinks with additional health benefits. For more, explore the insight section of our macrotrend Anxiety Rebellion.

Self love/acceptance Campaign Example: https://fredandfar.com/blogs/ff-blog/banksy-made-me-do-it-transforming-everyday-ads-into-self-love-campaigns 

This stunt can have multiple meanings, as Banksy often uses his art to comment on such structures as capitalism, power imbalances, and corruption. 

Wrapped up in the Banksy frenzy ourselves, we started questioning art and its subjective worth. What makes art valuable? What qualifies as art? In what way can art be used or manipulated to impact our everyday lives? We live in a world saturated by advertisements, media and marketing targeting and manipulating us to be passive consumers. Thinking about what we are subjected to daily by multimillion dollar companies is eye opening, as is Banksy’s take on copyright laws and advertising.

Banksy urges, “any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It's yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.”

So let’s take back the power. We got the ball rolling by taking some campaigns and slogans you might recognize, and turning them into campaigns for self love and acceptance.

Join us by creating your own better slogan and use the hashtag #banksymademedoit. What we need is more self love in the world. Let’s saturate the world with our mission.

Cultural Diversity Campaign Example: https://www.refuelagency.com/blog/examples-of-brands-who-got-multicultural-marketing-right/ 

Rihanna’s brand, Fenty, is all but synonymous with authentic inclusive marketing, created on the foundation that everyone woman is beautiful and should feel included. In 2017, Fenty Beauty launched 40 shades of foundation, and that has since grown to 50. Chaédria LaBouvier wrote in Allure that Fenty Beauty’s sheer number of foundation colors is “a statement that women of color deserve complex options”. 

Rihanna shared that, “It’s important to me that every woman feel included in this brand.” Once this campaign launched, it had a ripple effect called “The Fenty Effect”, a movement calling for brands to challenge the status quo in advertising.

[bunlai]

I dug even deeper to rethink the Sushi Salaam which will be featured in the United Nations sustainable food book cooking and writing late into the night with invaluable help fromYordanka and Pierre.

Here’s a sneak peak at part of the recipe, and a late night snap shot.

Every little thing that we do, makes all the difference in the world. It’s because of you, I can cook to make a difference.

This recipe features ingredients of Iran and it’s neighboring regions such as pistachios and pomegranate seeds; and fresh herbs and spices used to make a Persian stew called Ghormeh Sabze, whose history goes back a thousand years.

“As-salāmu alaykum” is a greeting that translates to “peace be upon you” in Farsi and Arabic. I created this recipe for my 2016 White House Champion of Change Award for Sustainable Seafood during a time when the number of assaults against Muslims in the United States was surging.

For well over a millennia, the cultures of the Middle East have achieved groundbreaking advancements in the arts, literature, science, medicine, economics, architecture, and religion. Rumi, the Persian mystic who crafted one of the world’s greatest collections of poetry would certainly have dined on Ghormeh Sabze, 700 years ago. My recipe, Sushi Salaam, incorporates tastes and aromas that must have permeated the air as Rumi composed some of the greatest love poems ever-written.

Sushi Salaam was created in defiance to the prejudice, bigotry, and racism represented by Islamophobia in the United States. I created this sushi recipe inspired by flavors of Middle East that I intermingled with others that I was familiar with from my own culture. This unusual combination of ingredients created a tasty harmony that symbolizes the peace that can exist between people of different cultures, in the hope that one day we all will live in a world without hatred and retribution.

I chose to include this recipe—which contains no seafood—for The White House Sustainable Seafood Award dinner which I curated because humanity’s assault on itself is inexorably connected to its assault on the earth, oceans, and all the creatures that they give life.

SUSHI RICE

The most convenient way to cook rice is by using an electric rice cooker. Don’t buy a fancy rice cooker. The simplest and most affordable one will do the job. Sometimes, you can find personal 2 to 3 cup rice cookers at the thrift shop for just a few dollars and what a find that is! If you don’t have a cooker, just use a little pot with a cover on your stove top.

At Miya’s, I don’t make traditional sushi rice because it requires the use of lots of sugar, and the over-consumption of sweeteners has been a major contributor to the pandemic of diet-related diseases. Furthermore, my sushi rice—that’s inspired by multi-grain, whole-grain breads—taste better than the sweet sushi rice that we’re accustomed to.

BEANS

Rice and beans are a traditional coupling of ingredients in many places around the world because they taste great together while providing all the amino acids to form a compete protein. So, if you have grains and legumes in your diet, you don’t need to be eating animals for your dietary protein requirements. The human appetite is the most destructive force on Earth. Humans have eaten other species to extinction for tens of thousands of years. Eating plants instead of animals will nudge humankind to live in a way that’s less violent and destructive, both towards other living things and to itself. As long as humans continue to systematically abuse animals (and humans) through cruel and depraved factory farms and unsustainable fishing and hunting practices, there will be no peace on Earth because violence always begets violence.

DO IT YOUR IT YOUR OWN WAY

The Sushi Salaam recipe is intended to be malleable like wet clay. Don’t worry if you don’t have all the ingredients. Just improvise and in your hands the Sushi Salaam will become something more wonderful than I could have ever imagined.

Nori

1 & a 1/4 cup White rice

1/4 cup Brown rice u

1/4 cup Barley groat

1/4 cup Oat groat

1/2 cup of lentils

Pickle brine

Black pepper

Olive oil

Mace

Cinnamon

Salt

Eggplant

Fresh fenugreek leaves

Fresh green onions

Fresh parsley

Fresh cilantro

Fresh baby spinach

Pistachios

Eggplant

Dried figs

Pomegranate seeds

[lorenzodemedisi]

Whatever The Future Will Hold For Us.

PAIRING.

Vampire!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader.  

SUMMARY.

It had never happened before; an Omega werewolf who had imprinted on a Vampire. 

Until you met Steve and everything went complicate, dangerous, tempting and desirable. 

A/N.

Fantasy AU. A/B/O AU. Vampire AU. Enemies To Lover AU.  

Angsty, Fluff, tensions (hate and steamy). I inspire myself from some theme in the Twilight series, mixed with some good A/B/O AU. 

-not my gif, credit to the rightful maker.-  Here another fantasy piece. I hope you will like it and thank you for reading. Don’t hesitate to give me your thoughts, feedback and comments. 

A lots of Love. Lex!xx

WORDS.4452ish.

°°°

You tried, you tried to stop the beating of your heart and your sudden urge of need and secret want. But you couldn't stop it. You couldn't prevent it but only go along with it. Being the youngest member of your pack was hard, but what was harder was to imprint on a bloodsucker. It was odd and weird, nobody could understand. An Omega who had imprinted on a Vampire! A kind that was one of your worst enemies for Centuries. They were unnatural, and going against your pack's fundamental laws but most importantly, Vampires didn't care for anything or anyone.

" Can we get ten packs of cigarettes, the blue and green one. " Natasha grinned at you, while Bucky Barnes, her boyfriend, was too occupied to kiss her neck.

She chuckled trying to push on his chest which only made the man pressed harder on her frame. They were unbelievable, you rolled your eyes, turning your body toward the cigarette shelves behind you. Unfortunately, you caught the sight of the third one. Steve leaned into a candy shelf, his arms close on his chest and a cap set low on his face. Both of your gaze locked for only a couple of seconds but it was already too much since he had entered into the small place your thought was on him, your imprintee. You quickly took what his Vampire friend asked for and added them to her already full bags.

" Would it be all? " You demanded, avoiding to look directly at the couple too exposed PDA. " Yes. " Natasha smiled, pushing Bucky's mouth away from her lips. She reached for her wallet and started to put the money on the counter.

Bucky bit his lips looking at her, making you cringed and wanted to puke. He then looked at you and give you a devilish smile after he finally recognized you. The weird werewolf who had a "crushed" on his best friend but they all knew that it was more than that.

" You should come to the party tonight. " Bucky smiled, lazily putting one arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. " Keep company to the poor old Steve over there. " He grinned, pointing at his friend with his head. You hold your breath, dropping your sight on Natasha's movement. " Bucky…" Steve warned him in a low growl, still standing behind, his hands into fists. " Just a thought. " The dark-haired male winked at you while Natasha put the final bill on the small table.

You only nodded and took the money in your hand, you started to tap on the shop's screen. Quick, they gathered their stuff in their bag, turned their back and started to leave. Steve was already out.

" Keep the change. " Natasha called being her shoulder with a bright smile before she left the shop.

" Keep the change " You mimicked her with an ugly grimace, rolling your eyes. They were insufferable and out of the place. You didn't know why they came to shop here, which was own and controlled by Werewolves their worst enemies. Actually, maybe deep down you knew why. Putting the money inside the register you remembered what Steve had told you after you had imprinted on him. You obviously had rejected him, but nonetheless, his words were always inside your head; " I will always be there for you, even though you don't want me to. " By the fact you were both immortals, and that the Vampire considered honor and promise two valuable things to keep hold to, you would be stuck with Steve Rogers as an imprintee for the rest of your life. You bite your lips closing the register down, and raising yourself from the tip of your feet, eyeing the little group putting their stuff in their luxurious car. Bucky was saying something making the two other laughed out loud. They were carefree and loved to ignore the fact that most of the population of the town feared and avoided them. But seeing them, in the parking lot of the shop was making them almost normal. Like mortals.

°°°

" Maybe, I will just stay for 10  minutes and then leave. " You informed your friend, Wanda. You put her burgundy top in front of your frame, watching your reflection inside the mirror you cocked your head to the side.

She only huffed behind you. You frowned your eyebrows and turned your head toward her.

" What is it? " You asked her, throwing the sweater at her feet on the bed and taking a dress from the huge pile on the floor. " You always say this, after seeing him. " She put aside her pen and looked at you through the mirror. " Maybe I will stop by his place? Maybe I will ask him to take a coffee with me? " She mimicked you while you rolled your eyes, and turned around to fully looked at her. " That is not true. " You argued, putting your hands on your hips. " Sure it is, you are always weaker after you saw him. And you never went through your plan to reach for him. But give it a couple of weeks and you will fully be back to your normal self, full of pure hatred against these bloodsuckers." She explained shrugging her shoulders. Her face lighted up, watching the piece of clothes you were holding in your hands. " Wow, you should keep this dress, it would look really good on you. " She smiled, before putting her pen back into her hand and started to draw again.

You froze, giving hard thinking about what she had told you. Were you always like that? Weaker and maybe needier after seeing Steve? You didn't know and you didn't think so, but your decision was now taken.

" Put some clothes on, Wanda. We are going to a party. " You announced to her under her knowing smile. " Yes finally! We are breaking some rules. " She threw away her paper and pen on her already packed floor. " But you are definitely putting this amazing dress on." She exclaimed raising herself from her bed and going straight into her bathroom.

Yes, you were. Pulling on the dress and breaking the rules. You didn't know what to expect or what you were exactly doing, maybe trying to be carefree for once and going with your instinct.

°°°

The huge house set in the woods was full but you were taken by surprise seeing civilized and well-behaved Vampires talking low among themselves, faint classical music playing on the background. They were no food, or drinks though, which was entirely understandable. You quickly lose sight of Wanda, not even 5 minutes after you walked inside the mansion. You swallowed looking at every piece of art inside the luxurious home. You knew they were rich but for Pete's sake, they had a Picasso hanging on the wall. You were about to analyze that closer but soon you find yourself a rough hand holding on your arm and being yanked into a small hallway. Your back hit a hard wall, you rise your eyes to look at Steve's clear blue one.

" What are you doing here, Y/N? " Steve hissed under his breath, he looked away from you to watched left then right, watching closely every single person in the room. " I thought I was invited. " You replied quietly, his hand still holding your arm down against the wall, the cold of his palm making your warm skin shivered. " Bucky shouldn't have said anything. " The blond-man rolled his eyes, before looking at you suspiciously. "I'm quite surprised but also confused. " He continued, his eyes inside yours.

That's when you felt it again, the tension between the two of you, the ground moving, the light was on him and only on him. Nothing else mattered you felt your heart beating more quickly, your eyes lost in his clear one. Nothing mattered but this, right now. You leaned your head toward him, your mouth being apart for only a few inches. You yearned from him, even though you were taught to hate him and avoided his kind. For some unlogical reason, you were desperate to finally have his lips on you.`

" I have to put you in a safer place before we do something we will both regret," Steve informed you, taking a step back from you. " I came with a friend. " You announced to him, frowning your eyebrows. Why does he think about regret and why he doesn't want to kiss you like you were longing too? " The Alpha girl? " He asked, looking through the crowd then your face. You nodded your head, deep inside your thought. " She will be fine. She's not in danger here, but on the contrary, you are. " He yanked on your arm again making you following him inside the dark hallway.

You walked fast behind, trying to keep the same pace as him. Steve pushed a door open and led you inside the room. It was a study where a large wooden desk stood in front of a window, a lot of bookshelves were set on the walls. You put your back against the closed door, watching Steve light some lamp on, a soft and warm dim light making you see the row and row of book, old and new. He walked toward the window, looked outside for a couple of minutes before closing the curtain in a sharp and quick movement. You let your eyes wondered on the small piece of furniture in the room, your instinct going back into ignoring mode.

" What are you really doing here? " Steve demanded, leaning his body on the mahogany desk. " I told you, I was invited. " You repeated, without looking at him but analyzing the different book titles. " No, what are you really doing here? " He asked again, closing his arms on his tone chest. " Is it because of your Heat? " The Vampire raised an eyebrow waiting for your answer. " What do you know about that? " You scoffed at him, shaking your head, still not looking at his perfect blue eyes. " I know, Omegas go through Heat once a month. I know that it's the time that a conception of a pup is more frequent. I also know that Omegas crave to have sex during their Heat imploring any Alpha to knot with them. " Steve explained with one shrug of his shoulders. " Whoa, since when did you become an Omega expert?" You mocked him, walking toward one bookshelf. With one finger you trace the letters of a book spine " Dracula ". " Since that day through the park, a pretty Shape-Shifter, imprints on me. " He announced to you, making his way toward your back.

You could feel his presence behind you, watching closely the books, you tried to ignore him, reminded you his crude words of earlier; " I have to put you in a safer place before we do something we will both regret ". You hold onto your breath, waiting for his next move.

" I tried to stop myself from thinking about you. It's been almost an all year, and I can stop my need to be near you every godman minutes. " Steve hissed behind you. You exhaled loudly, focusing your mind on the shelf. " I'm always wondering what are you doing, with who? What are you thinking about, is it me or did you found someone else? " He declared, pushing his chest against your back.

You swallowed hard, shivering while feeling his soft shirt against you naked shoulders. Steve put one hand on your hips, making you jolted with surprise, and pressed your backside against him.

" I wonder about who's making you laugh? Who's making you cry? " He pushed his lips against your ear, without controlling it you started to leaned into his touch. " Who's the bastard Alpha who knot you during your Heat? " He whispered his lips brushing your skin.

You closed your eyes putting your hand on his, stroking his long fingers with your nails.

" It really looked like you were the one who imprinted on me and not the other way around. " You remarked pushing your head into the crook of his neck. " I'm just happy that you are here. " Steve murmured. He put a soft kiss on your skin under your ear. " I would have wanted that it will be at a more appropriate time and place but I will make the most of it. " He continued, pushing his face against your neck.

You bit your lips, feeling very good. You should stop him and using your strength to shove hard across the room, but you couldn't. It was nice for a moment to just be in his arms and enjoyed the connection.

" Tell me, Y/N, who's the lucky bastard who took care of you during your Heat?" He asked, his head still on your neck. Steve descended his hands on your lower stomach stroking the soft fabric of your dress. " Who's the one I need to remove his head from his body because he had touched something that is mine? " He continued to whisper, a hint of angriness in his voice.

Possessively, he pushed your body once more into his chest and hummed into your neck, his hands closing around your stomach. You felt good and had forgotten almost anything the Leader of your pack had taught you. Until you felt his cold bite under your ear. You jolted with surprise, feeling his teeth brushing your skin. Fuming, you pushed his hand away from your body and turned on your heels. You glared at him, showing him your own canines under his puzzled but also amused face.

" What the hell are you doing?" You asked your voice husky but also angry by his behavior. " Here's the little wolf that was hiding. " Steve grinned, his blue eyes bright in the almost dark room. " I thought I made you yield to my killer charm. " " In your dream Rogers. " You mocked him, faintly smiling at him. " You will always be. " He declared winking.

You rolled your eyes, thinking that coming here was a bad idea after all. You tried to avoid his large frame walking toward the office’s door but his hand get a hold of your arm and firmly put you back at your place in front of him. You back hit hard the shelves behind you. Knocking off some books from their place. They fell hard on the ground. Furious you, snarled at him. Steve snarled back, pupils fully dilated, only darkness in his eyes.

" Let me go! " You cried out mad, you pushed on his chest but he wouldn't move. " No, I told you, it's not safe for you out there. " He pointed out, a faint smile on his face as he watched you trying to make him move. " I thought Werewolves were stronger than that. " Steve smirked.

You saw red, and without thinking you put all your inner force into one blow, your palms hitting his chest fast. Steve's body was thrown away across the room colliding hard into the wall in front of you. His body cracking and destroying the massive and strong bricks, he felt hard on the wooden floor. You only watched your mouth wide open. You never had done that before. Hearing loud voice and commotion behind the close door, you walked toward the window, pushed the curtain back. Without looking once at Steve who was grunting from pain or something else, you kicked the window open and jump through it. The cold air of Massachusetts blowing against your exposed skin, you started to run, never looking back at the house. Your head wondering about a thousand thoughts at once.

Everything your pack has been teaching you was to never trust a Vampire. And you've been staying true to their words and your learning. But tonight you have done the stupidest thing you could ever have done. Maybe you had caused a true act of war against the pack of Bloodsucker. Against your Imprintee.

°°°

Steve Rogers looked at the mess he had made, because of a foolishness remark he had said. When Erskine had bit him, he advised too cocky Steve to never " underestimate your enemies. " A piece of advice that could help him, on the battlefield, but also in love. Opening the door smoothly, Natasha quickly caught sight of him, his body on the ground of the room. A faint smoke made by the destruction of the wall was slowly covering every bit of furniture in the study.  

" What in the ten Hell, have you done? " The red-haired woman, chuckled looking at him raising his body from the floor. " Not me, but the little 'Mega who don't appreciate a little bit of teasing. " He mumbled, dusting his clothes. His body was fine, but his shirt was completely good to throw in the garbage, and his emotions were a mess. " What have you done, Rogers? " She raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on her lips. " You, who usually are such gentlemen with the ladies. " Natasha reminded him, putting a hand on her hip, and leaning her body into the doorframe. " Mostly, teasing. " He replied, shrugging his shoulders. Natasha cocked her head to the side, waiting. " And also, I maybe have mocked her strength. "

Natasha shook her head and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Faintly party noise was coming from the hallway, but nothing near them. Nobody was minding that Steve had almost shaken the house to the ground.

" It's rule number one, of every Werewolves books Steve. " Natasha exclaimed, disappointed by her friend's behavior. " Never mocked a wolf's muscles. " She shook her head, taking a big breath. " Now, what? " " What, what? " Steve asked, puzzled. " How, are you gonna fix this?" She simply demanded shrugging her shoulders, like it was the simplest thing of the world. " I mean you are into this filthy animal of girl and you just humiliated her and she smacked you so. " Natasha declared, pursing her lips. " How are you gonna win her over? "

Steve licked his lips and put his hands on his hips, thinking about how to settle all of this. He wanted to bury the hatchet between the two of you, and maybe starting something meaningful with you. He really wanted that. But apparently, the odds were against you both. His friend was about to turn around but stop before crossing the threshold of the door.

" Oh, and by the way, Rumlow is here. He was sent by Pierce who had heard about our little wolf crushed on you. " Natasha announced, wincing a little bit. "I think they are scared. " She added taking a step into the hallway. " I know he's here. But they are scared about what? " Steve frowned. He didn't like any of her information. " A truce between us, and your girlfriend little pack. You know how powerful we could be. And with her Omega DNA, she would be pregnant with your offspring within a minute, you know what werewolves and vampire babies could do? " She asked him, her face dead serious and her body stiff.

Steve could feel her emotions changing and was surprised to see that his dear friend Natasha was scared. He shook his head.

" Me neither, Steve. So please, be careful. " Was her final words before leaving him, in his deep reflection.

°°°

You heard a loud knock on your bedroom window, leaving your bathroom you stopped dead in your tracks seeing the pale face of the last man you wanted to see tonight. Steve waved at you, his face pressed against the glass. You were debating between ignoring him or letting him in. But it took you only a few seconds before walking toward the wall and opening the window with one swift motion.

" What do you want?" You greeted him, already angry. You closed your arms on your chest and backed away a little bit to make room for him to come in. " Well, hello to you too sweetheart. " Steve smirked, pushing long and strong legs inside your bedroom. " Don't worry I'm ok, and my back is already healing, so thanks to my amazing DNA for that. " He explained to you, his tone a little bit mocking your previous encounter from earlier this evening. " I'm sorry about that. I just don't like to be underestimated. " You bite your lips, dropping your gaze on the purple carpet of the room. " I understand, and I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard. " He only replied, raising his body from the edge of the window and stood firmly on the floor.

You take another step away, rising your head and looked at him warily.  It was the first time he broke the invisible boundaries you have created since your imprinted on him. Something was wrong.

" Why are you here? Is it Wanda? " You inquired, nervous and afraid to hear his answer. " No, no don't worry your little Alpha friend can fight her own battles, trust me." Steve chuckled under his breath and shook his head. " What do you mean?" You asked him, more confused than before. " She's fine, Y/N, however, you are not. " He explained to you, his voice quiet inside your room.

You frowned your eyes, not really understanding what he meant. Maybe he was here to ridicule you even more or worse, maybe he was planning to attack your pack, starting with you before going to kill Sam, the Leader.

" Steve, I think you should go. " You warned him, unclosing your arms from your body, and already taking a defensive stand. " And I think you should listen to me. " He replied, looking at your disbelief state across your face. " I won't attack you if it's what you think but my enemies will." " My pack will never turn their back against me, even though I fell for you. " You declared, your voice a little bit louder, confidence taking a hold of you. " I'm not talking about your family, but about Pierce, Alexander Pierce. " Steve announced to you taking a step toward you. He licked his lips, his blue eyes searching for a once of trust inside your gaze. " He's my enemy, and soon he will be yours. He heard about you imprinted on me and apparently he's shitting himself right now. " " Why? " You demanded confused, forgetting about your little idea of battle, you sat on the edge of your bed and crossed on legs under yourself. " I didn't do anything. " " Not yet, but if… " Steve swallowed his anxiousness and sat next to you, leaving a little space between your two bodies. " With we get along and start what the hell imprintees are doing, Pierce is scared of a truce between our two Clans and what consequence are relationship would do." " What do you mean? " You shook your head and got up from the bed. You were still drawn by him, and being this close to his body with a bed being involve was not what you needed right now. So, you took one step, still puzzled by Steve's strange revelations. " I mean, a baby Y/N. That's what he's afraid of. "

You sharply turned on your heels and looked at him, biting your lips from laughing.

" It's totally impossible and unlikely! " You cried out, skeptic. " You are dead inside! " You pointed at his tone chest, still yelling from surprise.   " And you are an Omega, who perpetually go into Heat and practically had a 100% chance to conceive every time you had sex with someone. " He shouted out, wanting to make you see his point. " Not every time! " You snorted rolling your eyes and putting your fist on your hips. " And, sorry if I repeat myself but you are dead Steve! " You cried out once again, but quickly calm yourself thinking about Sam living in the apartment next door. Steve rose from the bed and dropped his gaze on the floor. " It's rare but it had already happened that, Vampire having offspring with Mortals. It's very rare but it's not implausible." He quietly explained to you.

You turned your head from him, understanding what he implied behind his words.

" So, what you say is that if it can happen between a Vampire and a Mortal, a Vampire and an Omega have more potential to have a baby as well? " You started to shake, your brain going numb.

You could avoid Steve, but not indefinitely. You knew like tonight that the longing would be too painful, especially during a hurtful Heat and you will crawl and beg for him to take you. Nothing will ever be easy, especially if this Alex Pierce was a constant danger for the two or three of you. You heard him walked slowly toward you and felt his arms embracing you, pressing the side of your face against his chest. He put his head above yours and started to rock both of your bodies calmly.

" It's going to be ok. " Steve reassured you, pressing a soft kiss on your head. " How? " You muttered, your lips brushing the cotton of his fresh shirt. " I don't know, but I promise you Y/N. " He started to tell you, stroking your back with one hand the other reaching for your cheek. He tilted your head to make you look at him. " I promise you that if anything happened I will always be there to protect you. " He faintly smiles before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. His mouth was smooth and sweet against yours. You brushed your nose with his and let a delightful sigh escape your lips. Steve backed away a little from you, his thumb stroking your skin. " Promise me that at your next Heat you will come to me to take care of you. " " What if I get pregnant? " You murmured, concerned and dread feeling your stomach. " Then I will protect the both of you. " He smiled, pushing once again his lips on yours. " Promise me, Y/N that I will be the one you will come to." He demanded you, his lips brushing your mouth. " I promise. " You replied, in a whisper. " Good. " Steve smiled.

He kissed you once again more deeply, his lips sliding against yours. You could feel the flutter of his long eyelashes against your cheek. But before you could take a good hold of him, Steve broke away from your body. He pressed a faint and quick kiss on your cheek.

" Until next time. " He murmured against your ear, before walking toward the open windows.

Without a final look, he jumped through the open space. You heard him started to run inside the woods of your clan, and soon enough he was gone. Taking with him every little resolution you had to stay away from him.

°°° Tag List; @jtargaryen18​

#Vampire!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader #Steve Rogers x Reader #Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers fanfiction #A/B/O AU #Vampire!Steve x Omega!Reader #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers AU #Steve x You #vampire au #Steve Rogers Imagine #Story: Whatever The Future Will Holds For Us.