#its gonna be my last math test ever but god please just let me get an average grade on this one

[actualemotions]

Gonna go cry bc of math

#its gonna be my last math test ever but god please just let me get an average grade on this one #why does it have to be so hard

[venusguks]

Solace in Seoul

— Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Fem!Reader (Reader x Kim Taehyung on the side)

— Summary : the falling apart of you and kim taehyung, and the coming together of you and jeon jungkook

— Genre/Warnings : plot driven, angst, smut, fluff, sugar daddy/baby relationship, student/teacher relationship w kth, bsfs2lvrs w jjk, unprotected sex, creampie, degredation, oral (f receiving), jk just wants to love you :(, jk is the absolute sweetest really, spit drinking?, praise ( TW : MENTIONS OF FAMILY ABUSE/BRUISES )

ACT 1. | 134340

The first time you talk to Jeon Jungkook again, your mind is elsewhere, absorbed in the lingering absence of Taehyung.

Spring's gentle breeze carried distant laughter and a faint melody from the music club two floors down. The sky carried drifting clouds, the ocean carried rising tides, and you — You carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Or at least it felt like it.

The piles of envelopes concerning last two months’ unpaid bills have been devouring your dinner table and heart alike. After receiving the countless of threatening voicemails from your landlord, you'd be naive not to expect a visit—but opening the door to Mrs. Joomi’s bitter scorn didn’t make you feel any less anxious. Juggling two part time jobs all the while maintaining A’s and B’s was nothing easy to accomplish. Hell, living wasn't even easy, and yet, it was like nothing you did was ever enough.

Grief was your composer and you were her violin—her cruel euphony reverberated through your tears when you sat on the cold kitchen floor last night, sifting between your savings that barely made up one month's rent. On top of your midnight breakdown, your dad decided to come home yesterday out of all days and, well, you know how that goes.

The door clicks open, interrupting you from your trance. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Footsteps pad closer until Taehyung is right next to you. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans back against the metal railing, facing the opposite direction. It's quiet at first. You've noticed long ago that your relationship with him was one that was filled with silence. “Somethings bothering you,” He’s the first to break it. Neither of you take your gaze off the cerulean blue sky. “You could tell?”

“Of course I can, angel," his voice is cool, gentle, and it carries you away with the wind. "You dozed off through the whole lecture today."

Shame tinges your cheeks with the faintest pink, “oh... I’m sorry. I was paying attention, really, I was just—"

"Love," he saighs, "you have nothing to be sorry about. You could skip to sleep in the nurse's office for all I care. I'm just worried about you."

“What a good teacher you are,” you smile, a teasing one, but Taehyung chuckles dryly. “Trust me, if I was a good teacher, I wouldn’t be doing this," he sounds apathetic, but that doesn't stop you from frowning. You finally turn to look at him, his curls of deep brown swaying. “Taehyung... please don’t say that. You’re an amazing teacher, everyone knows it.”

You hoped he knew how genuine you were. God, you hoped to the moon he knew just how good he was. Taehyung may have already been admired for his captivating smile and his nonchalant energy, but everyone respected him for so much more. He was the type of teacher everyone wanted—the cause of counselor’s headaches every autumn for receiving heaps of transfer requests. Even parents and teachers fawned over him, baffled to see the passing rate in math tests accumulate over the years. It hurt that he didn't see that, and it hurt more knowing he didn't think he was respectable because of you.

The man tilts his head to look at you, smiling softly. “You know I’m only joking, doll.”

“Whether you're joking or not, I still... it just worries me when you talk like that,” you pause, "....do you really feel that way?" Do you really regret this?

Taehyung sighs, and the jeweled rings adorning his fingers are cold against your skin as he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Worrying is my job, angel, so tell me what's been on your mind instead."

If Taehyung noticed the hurt in your eyes, he chose to ignore it. He always did this. You got it, really, you did. There were boundaries for these sorts of relationships. One step closer would bring him one step back, which was why you never probed him any time he disregarded your questions. But a selfish part of you still felt it was a bit unfair, a bit painful to feel him slip away, to realize he was never there in the first place.

It was strange, how he made you feel. His thumb grazed your lips, his breath was light on your skin—if you concentrated hard enough, you swear you could hear his heart beat. He was only inches away.

So why did he feel so far?

Taehyung was your your lighthouse, your harbor, your shore. Through the snowy December nights where his fingers traced sensuous lines down your bare stomach, to the Spring showers of March where his cold lips brushed your inner thigh—Taehyung had always been your solace.

You knew tangling in sexual affairs with your teacher in return for sealed envelopes was wrong, but how could something so sinful feel so heavenly? The unspoken acts committed underneath draped curtains and moonlight's veil felt too dear to you to be called impure. By your sixth rendezvous, you started to wish the intimacy you shared with him could go beyond silk sheets and star speckled lust.

“I want you to confide in me too,” you said one night under the reluctant shadows of warmly lit candles. “I want to help you too, Taehyung. Please, let me help you.” You could tell he's been agitated the whole week, but you'd been too afraid to ask, afraid of him pushing you away. You didn't know where your courage came from then, all that you wished to be more than a distraction. “I don’t need you to help me," Taehyung growled, and you let out a muffled whimper when he rolled your clit with his tongue, your thighs trembling as you reached for his soft curls. "B-But I care a-about—ahn!" You arched your back as he inserted a finger inside of you, curling into your sweet spot with frightening accuracy. "Don’t need you any way else other than this, doll. Just be good and silent for me." That morning, you woke up to a bed void of the man you loved; a white envelope being the only remnant of that night.

You sighed as you recalled that memory, brushing your own fingers over his, tracing the metal bristles of his rings. “Its nothing."

“Don’t say that, angel. I know it’s not nothing."

“Really, Taehyung, i’m fine. Just stressed is all.”

“Stressed...as in financially?” Your sudden tenseness affirms his assumption, making him sigh. "You could've just told me earlier, angel. Tell me how much you need." A repulsing mixture of shame and self resentment brews in your chest, hardening like bitter dalgona. Dirty, despite money sparking your secret arrangement from the very beginning, that’s how you felt every time it was ever brought up. “Hey, look at me doll," as if reading your thoughts, Taehyung gently draws your face close to his with two hands cupping your cheeks, noses barely brushing. “Don’t ever feel guilty about this. Just treat it as an early birthday present, yeah?"

You couldn't help but frowning, your hands roaming the access of his collarbone. "You already do so much for me, Taehyung...I just...I-I feel bad." You failed to notice how rigid he became then, how his eyebrows dipped with evident frustration. "Y/n, you know that—"

Click!

Before you even realize it, you and Taehyung are off each other. When the blue, paint-scraped door opens, sleeked shoes and lively banter are welcomed by two students, diminishing with a glance at the both of you. "Ah, Mr. Kim, there you are! I was looking all over for you. What are you doing here?" A girl's eyes shift from you to the chestnut haired man. Taehyung easy recollects himself as he pats your shoulder, wearing a professional grin. "I stumbled into y/n here, was just giving her some advice but we’ve finished. What did you need me for?”

"Oh...well, about finals week..." You almost let out a sigh of relief as they continued their conversation, but your breath is instantly caught in your throat when your gaze flickers to the boy right next to her.

You were too startled by the sudden interruption that you haven’t completely processed his presence. You almost wish you hadn’t though, now that his doe, big brown eyes mirror your own.

Jungkook was unmoving, and you could've guessed he was conflicted—whether to say hi or to stay silent. Even if you were in the same grade, it was rare to see his face among the carbon copied uniforms. Class C—1 and C—4 were the furthest from each other, and with being the student council event coordinator, you were either neck deep in documents or tucked in the seclusions of the rooftop.

But due to the proud morning announcements and the hushed whispers of admiration, Jungkook never really strayed too far from your orbit. Referred to as the school's golden boy, Jungkook was loved by everyone. He was friends with members from the fashion department to the swim team to the gardening club—Hell, even the occult club. Teachers and students alike wore lenses of adoration for their school’s pride and joy while you tried your best to look away. He may have been in your orbit, but you were two different worlds, encapsulated by the universe but separated by light years of meteors and stars. Jungkook was a nameless planet to you, as you were to him. You never brought yourself to think about it—never had the time for anyway, so seeing him there, floating with the drifting clouds, even you felt a tad bit shaken.

“—kook...Jungkook, hey, Jungkook! I’m gonna go get my assignment with Mr. Kim. Come with?” He blinks profusely, averting his attention from you to the girl wearing raised brows. “Uh, no thank you. Breaks gonna end soon anyways, I think I’ll stay up here. See you after school though?”

“After school,” she clicks her tongue, waving before disappearing down the stairs. Taehyung lingers for a second longer, his eyes flickering to you. “Well I’ll see you next period, Jeon. Bye, y/n." With that, the door shuts behind them, welcoming an air of awkward silence.

Jungkook is the first to clear his throat, “hi, its been awhile," his earrings dangled with his every nervous movement, and you wondered when he'd gotten all his piercings. "Y-Yeah, its been awhile..." you repeat densely as you watch him take the spot Taehyung left, respecting a distance but not standing too far away. He rests his forearms on the metal railing, his elbow barely brushing yours. “Do you usually come up here?"

"Only during lunch."

He hums, "that explains why I never see you."

You frown, both in curiosity and confusion. "You look for me?"

“I-I don’t!” He sputters too quickly. “I just...its just an observation. We’re in the same year after all, and you’re never with the rest of the student council members.” Your brows raise in amusement, “that's surprising.”

“What is?”

“I didn’t think you remembered my name—honestly didn’t think you even remembered I existed.”

“Of course I remember,” he chuckles, “we’ve been friends for 17 years. How could I forget?”

“14 years,” you reminded softly, “we’ve been friends for 14 years.”

A star in Jungkook’s eyes must have died out when you smiled sadly at him. “Oh...right...” he rubs the nape of his neck, sighing. “This is strange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you agree, “strange.” And there it is again. Spring’s momentary silence. You watch as the sun slowly disappears behind sailing clouds. Talking to Jungkook, being alone next to him, was maybe even a little bit uncomfortable. After all, you guys had so much history—where do those film rolls of sun seeped memories go? It was as if they floated all around you, tying your fingers together like the red string of fate. After all those years of suppressing them, it was intoxicating, adamant to be remembered.

“This reminds me of middle school,” Jungkook brings your head back from the sky. “In 5th grade, the highest we could go was at the top of the garden shed. We spent all our breaks there, staring at clouds, complaining about Mr. Lim being too grouchy, or wondering where we'd go after school—what ice cream flavor we’d get at the convenience store. Do you remember?”

"Of course I do," despite yourself, your heart softens to the recollection. It was your secret hiding spot, blocked by the slant of the roof and the trees barricading the other side. The sky, wind, and Jungkook had been your only escape from the problem solving in math and the problem solving you had to do on your own when you were 10, wondering what the budget for that week's grocery would be. “We thought we were so cool, that we were on top of the world.”

“Correction, you thought you were so cool. You even promised to show me your own space ship, remember?”

“God, please don’t,” you groan, covering your face with your palms. You knew exactly where this was going, and you guessed Jungkook still knew exactly how to embarrass you. “You told me you were a space—“

“—adventurer!” You beamed a toothy grin, two hands proudly on your hips. Jungkook looked up at you with sparkling eyes, pupils as large as beloved full moons. “You mean...an astronaut?”

Your smile immediately drops into a disappointed frown. You demanded upmost reverence, so you didn’t really appreciate it when he questioned you. “No, no. Not an astronaut. A space adventure. s-p-a-c-e a-d-v-e-n-c-h-u-r-r. Gosh, Kookie. If you want me to bring you along in my journeys, you have to keep up.” Jungkook only nodded, trying his best to stifle a chuckle. He won the 3rd grade spelling bee, so he was at least 85% confident the word adventurer didn't have a 'ch' in it.

He decided to let it go though. He knew—the same way he knew that you’d certainly cry if he corrected you—that you were afraid of heights. If it took weeks to encourage you to finally climb a roof, he was the certain you wouldn’t be able to handle the height of the galaxy. But then again, he always had a soft spot for you. “I’m building a space ship right now actually! Its called the Bon Voyage. When it's finished, I’m going to Pluto. You won’t believe how big space is. There are strawberries there!"

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your silly declaration, and even then, he felt sad. He knew that being a space adventurer—being able to maneuver gravity and time on your own whims—was only an innocent imagination of escapism, but still. Every single time you’d flinch when a hand was brought up near you, every time you’d pull on your jacket despite it being hot, he wished your imagination could be real. Wished he could make it real for you—keep you safe from earth and all your troubles.

“I’d like to see the strawberries.. with you,” Jungkook smiled softly. You grinned, and it was the most precious thing Jungkook saw as you stuck your pinky finger out. “Then it’s settled, I’m taking you with me.”

“To pluto?” He wrapped his small finger with yours, and you sealed it with your thumbs pressed against each other's. “To pluto!”

Jungkook was in a fit of laughter, and despite burying your face further into your hands, you couldn't help but smile. “I can’t believe you knew I was lying. God, I must’ve looked like a total idiot.” His elbows were pressed against yours now, sending a surge of warmth to your heart at the familiar skin ship. Jungkook must have not noticed, for he only kept giggling, and you certainly wouldn't bring it up. “It was cute, really. The strawberries and everything. It was really cute.”

"Whatever, Jungkook," you rolled your eyes, and uncovering your eyes, you looked at him. Truly looked at him this time. His smooth, unwrinkled uniform. His hair that grew over time, kissing past his eyelashes and swaying with the wind. The tiny mole peeking under his bottom lip, the familiar scrunch of his nose as he grinned widely. The speckled brown of his eyes were so warm, almost dreamlike against the golden sun. Under long years of an uncalled contact, of an untouched hand, of a voiceless wonder—‘how have you been?’ ‘what was on your mind today?’—you saw the Jungkook you once knew, your dearest friend. And with his smile, you found your heart aching and full at the same time.

ringggggg!

The alarm jolts the both of you, severing spring’s heartbeat as loud chatter and footsteps disrupt the moment from open windows.

You only stare at each other for a brief second before you give a half smile, “that's the bell, we should go.” Without waiting for an answer, you followed the pace of the rest of school, but before you could take a step down the staircase, Jungkook takes your hand. His grip isn’t tight or rough. Its gentle, reluctant. You turn around, and the sun is behind him, kissing the back of his head with its golden, stray flakes.

"What is it?" You furrowed your brows. “I...its just..." It takes a moment before Jungkook speaks, cheeks tinged with a faint red. "Y/n I, I miss—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt in masked panic, averting your eyes as you pulled your hand back. In truth, you were scared. Finals week would be soon and you didn’t think you could handle any more mental strain than you already had, especially not with him. “I-I think we’re going to be late.” Jungkook eyes widen for a second, stricken with dejection. He mumbles, “right...”

You don’t dare to look at him, turning away, you say, “it was nice talking to you again. Bye, Jungkook.”

ACT 2. | DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR

The second time you see Jungkook again, the spring showers are sharp against your skin. You had just gotten off from your 6 hour shift, and where the sunset hues of timid pink and vibrant yellow were supposed to be, the overcast sky was instead. It's been about 30 minutes since you clocked off, but you knew your dad was home, so you decided to take the long way back.

It didn't matter that you were a blur of blue walking in grey tainted streets. Didn’t matter that the downpour soaked your clothes or that cars occasionally splashed you with murky road puddles. You could be anywhere, and anywhere would be better than where your dad was.

Droplets drooped down your eyelashes, dribbling down onto your phone. It’s screen illuminated your color drained face. You stared at Taehyung’s contact, biting your lip nervously.

YOU :

hey taehyung, can i come over? if that's possible of course|

hey taehyung, can i come over? i|

hey taehy/

.../

i need you|

Your thumb hovered over the tempting, blue send button. Press it, Y/n. Just press it. (But would he mind?) He said it was okay to ask for help. (But... what if he's busy right now?) It's okay to ask. (You'd just be bothering him. If you're too needy, he'll push you away, you know that.) Just press the damned—

“Y/n!” A hand reaches your back, and although it was a mere brush, you yelp in alarm, instantly stumbling back. When you're sure you're about to be submerged into a puddle, a hand firmly grasps your forearm, steadying you as the said person pulls you closer to them. The rain stops—or rather, patters against an umbrella now hovering over you. Your eyes flutter from the hand holding you to the hand holding the umbrella handle, and lastly, the holder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungkook half laughs. When you don’t reply, your mouth only agape, he adds, “are you okay?” It takes you a moment before you nod. You were close, as close two people could be under a small umbrella (or was it because Jungkook has gotten really big?), so you take a step back. But before you could feel even one raindrop on your face again, Jungkook pulls you back into him, “I don’t want you getting sick, y/n.”

“I’m already soaked anyways,” you frown, but he only disregards you. “Where are you heading?”

“Nowhere.”

When his brows threatened to crease, you add, “Got off work a few minutes ago, I was just taking a stroll.” Jungkook opened his mouth, and you were sure he was going to say something in the lines of, “in the rain? have you gone mad?” But to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers intertwine with yours. “My homes not far. Come with me?”

"Your...home?” You repeat dumbly, disregarding how warm his hand was—how you missed it, how right it felt in yours. “Yeah, if thats okay with you. If not, then mind if I walked with you?” You pause, taking in Jungkook’s attire. What he was doing in a button down, black trousers, and sleek shoes, you didn’t know—but his dry state save for the few droplets on his clothes meant that he'd much rather prefer to be under a roof. You weren’t sure if he was going to take no for an answer, and being under shelter did sound pleasant. At least, more pleasant than being in wet socks. “Okay,” you say, “take me home.”

When you arrive, you're relieved to discover Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are on a business trip. You missed the Jeons, truly—they were the only family you’ve ever known, but you didn’t think you were ready to see them again.

You remembered Jungkook’s house being an absolute palace when you were a child—modernized with elegance adorned with a scenic garden and a clean landscape—but it still didn’t fail to leave your jaw agape. Expansive was always an understatement. “Here, get changed,” Jungkook hands a towel, an oversized sweater and sweatpants, and of course, fuzzy socks. You only nodded as he led you through the familiar halls to his room. “Just call for me when you’re done, kay?”

“Mm,” you mumbled, still in a daze even after he left. Bittersweet nostalgia filled your nostrils with the scent of vanilla and almonds, a soy candle he still apparently loves. It's only been three years since you’ve last set foot on his grey, hardwood floors, but you still noticed the subtle changes. Instead of pokemon action figures—burnished, golden trophies filled his glass shelves. They were only a few Jungkook was really proud of, otherwise his room would be brimmed with his accomplishments.

Picture perfect polaroids capturing euphoric memories and cheerful grins scattered Jungkook's walls. A refined stereo set replaced the bright blue boom box of your childhood, the one covered with doraemon stickers and scratches. Memories of 4th grades' January flooded your mind, when the blandness of the month was disrupted with color as the two of you jammed to Ego by JHOPE on repeat. Jungkook may have added and taken a few things out, but you found anchor in what stayed the same. His plants that hung from the ceiling were still there, ivies draped with growth over the past years. Kim Namjoon, Jungkook’s long time idol, smiled from a framed poster on his wall. Everything was still polished with his neatness, a habit you had always commended him for.

As you dried your damp hair, a photo frame catches your eye, sitting on the side of his bookshelf. Your breath catches in your throat. You slowly walk to the dainty item, painted white and blue to resemble noon skies. In the corner of the frame ignited a bright, pale limerence. Sparks of vivid blue and tangerine whipped through the wooden confines. You felt your heart thump against your chest. It was a—

"Daytime shooting star!" You gleamed, holding a paint brush into the sky, the handle rough from years of dried paint. It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after the end of seventh grade. Cicadas sung adamant songs through Jungkook's cracked open window as the two of you sat on his floor, blanketed with a fuzzy iron man carpet.

He looked at you quizzically, "a daytime shooting star?" As far as Jungkook knew, there was no such thing. "Yeah," you chirp. "That's you, Kook. You're my daytime shooting star." Jungkook nearly dropped his paint brush then, risking his favorite carpet as he looked at you, wide eyed with stun. You were wearing his t-shirt as per usual, your face smudged with blue paint and an innocent smile. Jungkook hated you for it.

It was always your choice of words—my Jungkook, my Kook, my Kookie, and now, my daytime shooting star—that he swore would be the death of him every single time. He didn't even know what you meant, but he didn't care, because being called yours was enough to kill him.

"Th-Thats stupid," he mumbled as he looked away, a futile attempt to hide his burning cheeks. "That doesn't even make sense." When the air shifted to silence, Jungkook immediately regretted his words. He quickly turned back around, fearing he accidentally hurt your feelings due to his own fluster. Maybe that was when Jungkook realized you really had grown up since the 6th grade, because this time, tears didn't drip down your cheeks. Instead, your eyes were curious and doe as you tilted your head to your side. "Does it matter?"

"What?

“A lot of things don’t make sense, but does it have to matter?” You frowned.

“I-I don’t—”

“I like you a lot, Kook,” and though you weren't at the least bit shy saying so, Jungkook’s emotions exploded everywhere. “I don’t think you need reasons to like someone, but you’re my daytime shooting star, Kook, and that's my reason. Can't I just like you? Does it...does it have to make sense?”

It felt like light years as Jungkook stared, red as he looked into the golden specks of your eyes, glinting from the blazing sun. “I-I don't know,” he gulped, his voice small. He was going to leave it at that at first. He didn't know what to say—what he could say. His mind was as clumsy and berserk as a deflating balloon to your previous words, but when he saw your sullen eyes and mopey pout, he felt an inadvertent panic in his gut.

His eyes shifted to his boom box. Etched on the side of the speaker was Doraemon, giving him a childish wink and thumbs up. Jungkook groaned in annoyance and you looked up, curious as he scratched the back of his head. "M-maybe we could...see it," he mumbled, barely grumbling, but your heart leapt with every syllable of his words. "Someday, together. The—"

“Daytime shooting star.”

You jumped, instantly whirling around to see Jungkook leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his torso. His eyes were soft, as if his gaze itself caressed you. “Y-You...” your thumb grazed the flimsy wood. “You still have this.”

“Yeah, and I still don’t have a photo,” he chuckled, making his way towards you. “14 years of friendship and you’d think we’d finally have a perfect picture to put in the frame.” It was pretty silly now that you thought about it. Despite spending a whole summer’s day decorating the item with childlike ambivalence, you never allowed Jungkook to slide a photo in it. No, it couldn’t just be any glossy photograph. You fussed over the concept of a perfect portrait, but nothing ever satisfied you enough, and with each passing year, it must've slipped your mind.

“I don’t get it... We haven’t talked for like, three years, and you still have this?”

"Does it have to make sense that I did?” Jungkook tilted his head, his eyelids lowering to look down at you. You open your mouth to reprimand him for using your words against you, but no words come out. Fuck. You swear it was his eyes—you’ve always said they were full of magic when you were children. It must’ve been that damned spellbinding luster that stole your voice. “What did you mean?” Jungkook takes a tentative step forward.

“Huh?” It came out like a breath.

Maybe it was the dim incandescence of the room, complementing the silhouette of his sculpted physique. Maybe it was the fact that the cloth he wore seemed too thin, too tense around his biceps and broad shoulders. Maybe it was because his first three buttons were left unclasped, teasing the faint outline of his chest. Or maybe it was the fact that you were so used to being in eye level with him—hell, looking down at him in the earlier points of your life. But you realized then, as Jungkook stared at you with a glint you couldn’t seem to quite recognize, how small you felt in front of him. Under him.

“When you said I was your daytime shooting star. You never explained it to me, what you meant,” Jungkook takes one final step forward, and the distance between you is insignificant. You don’t move—didn’t even think you could with your back pressed against his bookshelf. You could only return his gaze, doe eyes wavering beneath his. “What I meant to you...what I still mean to you.”

Your breath hitches, “Kook...”

“Fuck, I missed that,” his voice is low, breathless as his fingers brush your cheeks. “So fucking much, Y/n. I missed you calling my name, whatever you say. Kook, Kookie, Jungkook—I don’t care, just missed your voice, I still do. Don’t you know? Everyday, how much I long for you?”

Your eyes widen at his assertion. Wherever this was coming from, you didn't have the heart to stop it. "J-Jung—"

“—I miss you, Y/n. Any time I'm not around you it hurts and every time I am it hurts even worse.” His voice is so gentle, you fear he could hear the rhythm of your heart beat, palpitating with the heavy raindrops against his window.

“Why....why did you push me away?”

The waves were restless that cold, autumn night—you saw it through the fogged window of the train. Exhaustion tugged your eyes and your muscles screamed with every movement. As the train tracks rumbled beneath you, you wondered if you were even alive anymore, at least, it didn’t feel like it. All that was certain to you was the midnight stars outside, following you no matter where you went.

You didn’t know when the train entered the station, sighing to a stop as the doors slid open with a loud gush. It was probably 2am—Maybe 3, and the carts didn’t hold people this time around. At least you didn’t think it did, you honestly didn’t have the energy to even think about it. You only wondered how further you could go without knowing exactly how far you already went. Your neck ached from your head hanging low, and if it was cold, you didn’t feel it. All you felt was numb. An aching, dull pain eating away at your heart.

It was when you heard rushed heaves and loud footsteps that your eyes widened to see a familiar pair of green converse stop in front of you. You lift up your head to see Jungkook, cheeks red either from crying or the cold, maybe both. His brows were deeply furrowed as he crouched down, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“C-Can you hear me, Y/n? Are—are you okay?” You only nodded. He felt like a mirage, a dream.

You didn’t know what he saw in you that caused the droplets of sorrow to drip from his eye—whether it was the bruises covering your body, or the deep eye bags from restless nights at work—but it made you sad, how he looked at you. You wished he’d stopped. You wished you could be so far away that he didn’t have to look at you anymore.

“You’re, fuck, you’re freezing,” Jungkook quickly pulls his coat off and swathes it around you. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here earlier.” You shook your head, your dull headache being replaced with confusion. “Why are you even apologizing, Kook? H-How did you even find me? Why are you even here?” You had turned off your cell the whole day and gave no indication to where you’d be. You didn’t even tell Jungkook how you were feeling, it made no sense to see him there, holding you.

“We’re soulmates remember? Of course I’d know,” Jungkook tries his best to give a smile. “I’m here because you are. Just—look, lets get you out of here first okay?” Before you can tell him you can walk by yourself, he lifts you up, taking your hand as he leads you out. “The next train back to Seoul arrives in 8 minutes,” Even when Jungkook and you sit down on a bench, he doesn’t let go. He’s shaking, you realize, with his fingers intertwined with yours. It was as if he wanted to hold you tighter, but he was afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of hurting you? Or afraid of you hurting him if you slip out of his grasp any further?

“How did you know?” You begin again. “I told you I was sick, I called the school too. A-and how did you even know where I was?”

“You called in sick for three days Y/n,” he frowns, “and you haven’t texted me once. I was so worried, fuck, I was so fucking worried when I went to your house to see that you weren't there. All my calls went straight to voice mail, and I saw...I-I saw the shattered beer bottles, the blood. I-I panicked, even thought of calling the police,” when your face goes rigid, he assures you, “of course I wouldn’t though, I would never do that you. But anyway, it took me awhile to guess, and I wasn’t even sure—just started running. I imagined you’d definitely be in a space ship to Pluto right about now, but I took a risky bet on the train station. You know, being much more accessible to us and all.” When Jungkook finishes light heartedly, you give a dry laugh, “you know me so well, Koo."

His small grin falls shortly as silence does, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on your hand. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, sad, “You always...you always said you’d bring me. We’re a team aren’t we? You and me, I-I thought...I would’ve been there, Y/n. You know I'd be there for you in a heartbeat. Don't you trust me?”

"Of course I trust you, Kook," you quickly assure him through your thin veil of tears. It hurt too much to know you were the reason for the crack in his voice, for the ache in his heart, for his glazed eyes. You couldn't stand his pity, but you couldn't stand being the source of his grief either. "Then why didn't you call me..? All I ever wanted was to be there for you, all I ever want is to be by your side, y/n. Why won't you just let me help you?”

“Because you don’t understand, Kook,” you croak. “You don't understand how hard it is for me—how hard it's always been. It'll only ever always be like this, and I-I can't just...fuck Kook, I can't just depend on you every time I get hurt. My problems are for me to sort out, I have no one but myself.”

“But you have me, y/n," the tears you fought so hard to hold back falls when Jungkook covers both your cheeks with his hands. The boy inhales sharply, trying to calm himself from crying any longer as he presses his forehead against yours. "It hurts me so much when you talk like that, y/n. You have me, you always have me. A-and it scares me because sometimes it just feels like I don't have you, that I never did and—"

"Jung—"

"You’ve been so distant lately," his breath is shaky and hot against your skin. "....It feels like you’re going to leave me. Please, don’t. Don't leave me behind like this, y/n.” You don't say anything else, too overwhelmed with his heartache beating with yours. In that cold autumn night, all you could do was cry in his arms.

The train arrives shortly.

“Lets go home," Jungkook murmurs sweetly against your skin. He kisses your forehead softly, and when he does, it feels like you already are home.

“Come here,” he grins, standing up with his hand out. You take it. “Have you eaten yet? I can make us food when we get back. What would you like?”

“Honestly? Just ramen.” Jungkook groans as you step inside the desolate train cart. “You know I could cook something way better for us."

"Nothing is better than ramen with eggs, Kook," you chide, giggling when Jungkook rolls his eyes. You take your hand away from him, and Jungkook tenses, only to relax when you cup his cheek once more. “But seriously, thank you, Jungkook. For everything. For worrying, being here for me, for finding me." He smiles, his eyes like crescent moons luminescent with love as he looks down at you, "always.”

"You said you'd do anything for me right?”

“Of course, anything, y/n.”

“Then please stop after this," you keep your small smile even as Jungkook's brows furrowed with confusion. You said it so simply, so plainly that he thought he might have heard you wrong. "What do you...?"

“Nothing will change after this. Nothing. I can't escape from my life, I can't escape from debt or my dad no matter how hard I try—and being the cause of your anxiety won't help me. I don't need a savior, and I don't think you need me holding you back either. We're burdening each other Kook.” With a heavy gush, the train doors start sliding shut and before Jungkook can even comprehend your words, you step out. “Don't have worry about me anymore, okay?”

“W-Wait— y/n—!” He’s quick to run, but it's too late. The doors slide shut, finally severing the thin red string of fate that held the two of you.

The rain falls with your tears as you cry into your hands, guilt washing over you like tidal waves. You remember his face the most, how heartbreak and betrayal etched with the dying fade of his smile. How you left him that day, how you left him everyday after that.

“I-I was just so tired, so tired of everything. I... I'm so sorry I pushed you away. I just didn't want you to worry about me anymore. You were always so good, everything about you, and I was scared I was holding you back and...and it hurt too much to stay knowing I was." Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand gently pulled your head to his body. You're too stunned to move, but when you gather yourself, you decide you don't want to. You just cry, burying your face into his chest, your hands tightening around his shirt.

"I never once stopped thinking about you, y/n," he mumbled into your hair. "I never once not worried, never once not looked for you, and you—god, y/n—you never once held me back. Silly girl, don’t you know you were the only one who kept me together?” Jungkook lets out a noise, somewhere in between a sigh and a groan as he lowers his head onto your shoulder, "I did everything, anything to keep myself distracted from you. Competitions, sports, art, studies, friends.” His soft hair tickled your jaw as he nuzzled closer into the crook of your neck. “But I couldn’t, y/n, it was always you, it was never not you. Do you know how torn I was, watching you and not being able to talk to you? To hold you, be afraid of losing you even more than I already had?"

The pitter-pattering of the rain against the rooftop fills the voice you can’t seem to conjure. "Did you ever miss me?” Jungkook pulls away, and your eyes lock with his under the blue world. You realize then, by looking at him, just how scared he was. If you pushed him away again, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Reluctantly, you bring your hand to sweep Jungkook's tousled bangs away, brushing your fingers against the shell of his ear. "I did," you whisper, and more clearly, "I-I did, of course I did.” When Jungkook doesn't respond, your hand trails down his neck ... to his shoulders ... to his chest. "Do you hate me?"

Jungkook inhales sharply, "N-no." He could never.

"Your heart is beating so fast.... are you afraid?"

"I am."

"I am too," you lift his hand and place it against your own chest, laying it atop your own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, you don’t catch the pink of his cheeks when you’re too busy staring at the sad stars in his eyes. "I was too, back then. I know it's selfish, and i-i'm sorry I hurt you, but I hope you understand what kind of position I was in. I was so young, so scared—I just wanted to be alone, felt like it was a way to protect myself from anything else that could hurt me. I’m different now, I think, more stable—whatever that is," you chuckle dryly. "I can’t promise I won’t push you away, but I won’t leave anymore, really, s-so...."

Jungkook's eyes soften, his lids lowering when you say, "Can you trust me?"

"Of course," Jungkook breathes, “always.”

ACT III. | EPIPHANY

"Just go to sleep already, Jeon."

You've been repeating yourself for the past 3 hours, watching him restlessly saunter around his room. "...swear i’m missing something, I just don't know what..." Jungkook, like the countless of other times, dismissed you as he continued to tap his finger on his chin, mumbling to himself in intense focus. It was only when you’ve finally had enough, groaning and hurling a tissue box at him—which he instantly caught with ease—that he finally noticed your glare. "What was that for?"

"I said just go to sleep already!" You exhaled frustratedly, "you packed your whole room at this point, Kook. I swear you have, like, triple of everything you don't even need—so for the thousandth time, could you please just shut the lights?" It's been a few weeks since that one spring evening, and time started ticking again with Jungkook by your side. It took you awhile to adjust to his company, it was odd—but everything was odd at this point. Odd but comforting when Jungkook started visiting the rooftop every lunch, odd but reassuring when he'd pick you up after every shift, and odd but exciting to spend the night with him before the anticipated field trip to Jeju island. The four days were a granted escape before the tumultuous finals of the upcoming winter. Even you were a bit eager to go, having finally taken a justified leave off work.

"Fine, fine, but if I do end up forgetting something important, I blame you," Jungkook huffs, sauntering to the light switch. “Go ahead,” you roll your eyes, and with a small click!, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. “Finally,” You snuggled into his pillows, but when the bed dips down right next to you, you realized you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to shut his mouth as well. "Will you sit next to me on the way there?" You squinted to the darkness, raising your brows at the silhouette of his figure. "Jungkook, you're literally my only friend, do you even need to ask?" He chuckled, "but will you? We don't have to sit with my friends if you don't want to."

You hummed, thinking as Jungkook carefully brushed loose strands of hair away from your face, the warmth of his fingers trailing down the side of your neck. You were reluctant about being seen with Jungkook at first, but the choice wasn't left to you when his friends spotted you and him at the library sometime ago. It honestly wasn't as bad as you expected, and more surprisingly, you even clicked with a few with them. Seokjin was one you gravitated to the most, being a truly funny and charming senior that you felt you could look up to. "No, it's fine. I like your friends." Jungkook’s head perked up, and the darkness captures the bright twinkle in his eyes. "Really, you do?" You smile, knowing how happy that must have made him. "Really, I do. Now can we please go to sleep? I'd like to be at least remotely awake for the first day."

“Okay, okay, grumpy head," a bunny like grin appears on his face as pinches your cheek, chuckling when you only grumble in return.

He strokes your hair down one last time before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good night, y/n.”

"Good night, Kook," the reassuring warmth of his skin leaves yours, and you hear him shuffle in his own mattress on the floor. It's been awhile since you've felt like this, so safe. Though it didn't necessarily matter, being with Jungkook was different with Taehyung, you noticed. When it came to Taehyung, it was as if all your problems could dissipate with his touch. That for a moment, they could just disappear.

When it came to Jungkook, though, your problems were still there. They existed, they were real, and yet, when you with him, it felt like everything would be okay. He was like a breath fresh air, and you felt like you could get through anything—whatever it may be, as long as he was there. With that thought, you slowly, but surely, drifted to sleep.

ringgggg!! ringgg!!! ringggg!!

What happened afterwards came in fragments of fuzzy memories, distorted with exhaustion. It was the phone ringing first, then it was the shuffle of Jungkook rising from his mattress. The ringing, his heavy yawn, the ringing, groggy footsteps, the ringing, the clatter of the drawer—and finally, silence. "Y/n...?" His voice barely reached where your mind was, deep inside the depths of whatever dream dimension you were in. "Y/n," he said again. No reply. "Y/n... Y/n!"

"What?!" You groaned, lazily sitting up with a snarl and a bed head. The ringing starts again and you rub your eyes to where your phone screen illuminated Jungkook's face. "What is it?" You mumble, a little concerned to his expression. "God, is it Mrs. Joomi again? I just paid this month’s rent like a few d—"

"Mr. Kim."

You freeze. The two, single words are akin to iced buckets of water being splashed onto your face, instantly waking you up.

"Taehyung with a heart and moon emoji—but that's Mr. Kim, isn't it? In that photo? That's his first name." Your heart lurches forward. 태형☽<3, displaying a low quality photo of him that you secretly took while he was preparing breakfast. It was once a happy morning, and this was once a happy night—disrupted by its forbidden rays of joy.

When Jungkook finally looks at you through the stark darkness, you can only stare back, your heartbeats filling the silent stun of your dry throat. The bubbly melody stops, and when you don't say anything, Jungkook's voice grows louder, "Y/n what—what the hell is this? Why is Mr. Kim calling you at 3am? Why do you have a photo of him? Why is his contact—"

"J-Jungkook," You nervously moved to sit on the front edge of the bed, attempting to speak as calmly as you can. Jungkook would understand...right? He wouldn't tell, he couldn't. He knows you, your financial situation. It was okay. "Remember when you asked me not to push you away? Well, this is me letting you in. This is me trusting you Jungkook, so please just hear me out." Under the moonlight's glower, you see the bob of his adam's apple rise and fall. "Taehyung, he—"

"Taehyung?" You wince, the acidity of his voice like bitter poison. "I-I mean, Mr. Kim. M-Mr. Kim, he...helps me."

"Helps you?" Jungkook scoffs. "At 3am? How could he—" Suddenly, Jungkook's eyes go wide. "Y/n, you don't mean..."

You nod stiffly, "he gives me money in exchange for....i-its consensual! He helps me," your cheeks heat up, hating yourself for allowing this to happen, having to explain yourself. “A-anyway the point is, you won't tell anyone, right? You understand, don't you, Kook?"

"Understand?! Y/n—he’s a teacher! He's seven fucking years older than us—are you stupid, what were you thinking?!" The sting of his words ring in your ears like a harsh slap across your face. Throughout your years together, Jungkook had barely had the heart to scold you, so you were more than unprepared for his hurtful words. Your shock quickly subdues into anger though, and you stand up, “what I was thinking? What I was thinking?! I don't know Kook, maybe thinking about my fucking electric bill! Thinking about how to pay off debt—how to buy food for fuck's sake! I've looked after myself my whole life, and this is no different."

"Still—This is wrong, y/n! You know that! There are other ways like, like—"

"Like what Jungkook?!" You're in front of him now, pushing at his chest. "Working my ass off in nine to fives? Well I do that, Kook, every fucking day and yeah, a fucking disappointment for me too that it's not enough. You could never know how its like for me, but out of everyone, you're supposed to...! You’re supposed to understand,” you chuckle bitterly, shaking your head as a futile attempt to shake the hot tears away.

"Y/n...” Jungkook’s anger diminishes into a frustrated panic. He tries to reach for you, hold you, anything to keep you from crying because of him—but you turn away, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He sighs harshly, his voice much softer now, “I just—out of all these years, you could've asked me. I was always there, y/n, and you never accepted me. I know we talked about this already, but the fact that...” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do understand, but I was always here. I was your best friend, why did you have to go to him? Am I...am I that unreliable to you?"

Your own heart sinks for him this time, quickly shaking your head. “No, Kook. I-It's not like that. I'm sorry this has to be so complicated, that i've made you feel small. You are reliable, Jungkook. You're my safe place, my person—always have been. I appreciated you so much but you need to understand how terrible it felt for me back then. I hated being pitied by you. You’re my friend, not a fucking philanthropist."

Jungkook takes your hand this time, "I never wanted to help you because I pitied you, y/n. You were always so strong, I don't think you could ever be someone I could pity. I wanted to help because I cared for you, loved you, and it breaks my heart knowing that you went through such lengths when you could've turned to me."

You sigh, threading your hands over the back of his hair. "It was all just circumstantial, Kook. Taehyung found me at a really low point in my life. I didn't search for it, but he was there and i’m thankful for yim, so please Jungkook, please." Your eyes wavered beneath his sad stare, hoping, pleading. Jungkook bites on his lip, cursing, "look...I won't tell on you if that's what you're thinking. I would never do that to you, i'm just worried. He's calling you at nearly 4am, y/n—shit, h-has he hurt you? Did he ever make you do anything you didn't want to?" Jungkook looks frantic for a second, but you quickly shake your head. "N-no! No, god no, he's never hurt me! You know him Kook, Tae would never hurt me." You miss how you even said Tae or how Jungkook's jaw clenched to it.

"I won't say anything, y/n, at least...not yet. You have to end it."

"W-What?"

"He took advantage of you in a low position in your life, y/n."

"N-No Kook, you don't understand!"

"It's not your fault, y/n, it's completely his. He's the adult here, it was wrong. You have to end this."

"But I can't! The money, Kook, you know I can't."

"Then let me help you," he steps closer. Your hands slide to his chest now, shaking your head. "No, Jungkook, my answer has been no and its still no. I refuse to be your charity case," you scoff. "Then you're not going to be. I'll pay you to sleep with me too."

Your eyes instantly shoot open. What..?

"I'll pay you to sleep with me," he repeats calmly. "Anytime you need it, anytime I want it, and I'm certain I'll be able to give you more than whatever Mr. Kim could." Your mouth only hangs open, words dying in your dry throat.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, taking a step closer. This time, you take a step back. "If you were fine with doing it with Mr. Kim, shouldn't it be fine with me?"

"N-No," your voice is barely a shaky whisper. More clearly, "No, Jungkook. I can't just—we just started talking again. You're my only friend, I won't ruin us just for—"

"I won't let anything happen to us, I promise y/n."

"B-but—"

"You don't have to worry about it, okay? Plus, isn't this situation more ideal? You'd get paid more and you wouldn't have to rely on—"

"I love him!"

Its Jungkook's turn to be silent. "What..?"

"I love him Kook," you croak, heat overwhelming your cheeks.

"Y/n..."

"I know it's wrong, I know he seems like an asshole but he's not. I know him, Kook, and i’m mature enough to know myself too. I made my decision back then, and I keep making it today because...I love him." You can’t help but feel your anguish trickle down your eyes, and you cry into your hands. That’s it then. It’s done. You’ve finally admitted it, yet despite the burden of the untold truth lifting—you felt heavier, worse. By now, Jungkook would’ve pulled you into a warm embrace. He’d hush you with soothing murmurs and delicate kisses on your forehead. He’d trail his fingers through your hair, tell you that he knew, that he gets it, that it was okay. But he doesn’t. He couldn’t. You were crying for another man, and all he could feel was ache.

Your phone rings once more, and from the night stand, you see Taehyung’s figure on the dimmed screen. You reluctantly look at Jungkook, but when he doesn’t say anything, his expression unreadable, you take it. "H-hello?"

"Hey, doll," Taehyung's voice is low. "I’m sorry I keep calling, I feel really shit for waking you up at this time. I know the Jeju trip is in a few hours, but I just needed to talk to you."

"No, no, its fine. I was already awake anyways, um...what is it?" You turned away from Jungkook, nervously biting on your lip. Despite everything that had unfolded between the two of you, it was strange. Taehyung never called you at this time after all—and him saying you guys needed to talk only heightened your nerves.

"It's better to talk in person. Where are you? I can pick you up." You shake your head, despite not him being able to see you. "N-No, i’ll come over...is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course, I'll see you soon." With that, the call ends. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on your back—its overwhelming, and you’re scared to face the definite disgust and judgement in his them, so you don’t look at him when lift your bag across your shoulder. "I’m sorry, I...I need to go.”

ACT IV | LOVE IS NOT OVER

Jungkook hasn't seen you since last night. You never showed up at the meeting spot, never answered his calls or texts—never even once read the 68 of them.

He was certain you came, though—he checked in with Mrs. Yoon before boarding, but you were always good at hiding, and Jungkook was always an impatient seeker. The whole process of arriving, checking into the hotel, and splitting into groups was a whole blur that ended in him never finding you. After spending hours exploring the designated routes through antique shops, cute cafes, pretty sceneries, and meadows with his friends, he started to fear that you didn't come after all—that Mrs. Yoon had made a mistake.

Surely, he would've bumped into you at least once through the whole trip. And where the fuck was Mr. Kim? Jeju was supposed to be the pinnacle of his highschool experience. He’d be elated with the giddiness of being out with his friends, kissed with the gift of delicious freedom. But it was 7:46 PM now, and even when he overlooked the vast beach dipped with sunset's entrancing glow, he felt anything but. Not when Seokjin cracked his lame dad jokes, nor when Eunha got him to bike through scenic trails.

Jungkook sighed as the strawberry milk clattered to the bottom of the vending machine. He spotted it tucked away from the corner of the museum his group wandered into. He excused himself, relieved that their chaperone actually trusted him to be by himself. He needed the space.

He poked the straw through the carton, leaning against the cold metal as his eyes gazed over the glistening waves. He hated you. Always leaving him like this, always making him restless and unsure.

It was when he looked for the moon in the dusk sky that he noticed a familiar silhouette amidst the shore. It wavered with the wind, and Jungkook instantly felt his scorn. The man's jeweled hand was holding a cigarette between two fingers, overlooking the ocean with distant eyes.

Fuck the sand, fuck his expensive shoes, fuck everything. Jungkook doesn't know when he starts running, but he doesn't stop.

It all happened so past—the sun would have missed it if not for the perfect view she had just over the excited ripples of the ocean. When Taehyung noticed his presence, it was already too late. Jungkook had grabbed his collar, and without a second of hesitance, punched him across his face. Taehyung fell into the sand with a grunt, cursing loudly. “What the fuck?!” He turned to his perpetrator, his glare quickly diminishing into pure shock to see his own student right in front of him, eyes poisoned with resentment and hatred.

Taehyung's emotions came whirling at him all at once. The confusion, then the anger, the urge to scream at him and punch him until he was left bleeding on the shore—then the mediating side of him, understanding that he'd done more than enough to get his ass fired, why the fuck would he...?—then the realization. He sighs roughly, shaking his head as he stands. He isn't up for long though, as Jungkook takes another swing. Taehyung’s cheeks scream with stinging pain, but Jungkook’s on top of him, and he doesn’t stop.

"You fucking bitch!" Jungkook seethed, barely feeling his fist continuously bury into Taehyung’s face. He knew. He knew how much you loved him, he knew Taehyung helped you. He knew you'd get angry, maybe even hate him for the rest of his life for this—But maybe that's why he couldn't control himself. He didn't care if you thought Taehyung was some angel. To him, Taehyung was just a disgusting predator who took advantage of your situation, and deep down, maybe it was more for a selfish reason. Taehyung was a man who touched you, who had you—who wasn’t him. "You disgusting fuck. Don't ever fucking touch y/n again, you hear me?!" Another hit, but Jungkook is too blinded with anger to realize the scary amount of blood drooling down his nose and lips, from the cuts of his cheeks. "I know," Taehyung rasps.

"If you know then why did you do it?! You’re a fucking creep, you’re disgusting.”

"I know," another hit, and blood stains his shirt. Taehyung curses and grabs Jungkook's fist before he can throw another punch, pushing him into the sand. "You dick, I swear to god, I swear to fucking god I'll fucking kill you." Jungkook thrashes under Taehyung, but the teacher buries both his wrists into the ground, his weight holding the younger boy down.

“Sh-Shit, Look, I know how you must feel about me, and I know I deserve this, but I would much rather avoid being seen like this so I'm going to say this quick and you're going to listen."

"Fuck you," Jungkook growls, glaring at the man on top of him. His eyes were unreadable, almost enigmatic, and Jungkook hated every unwavering speckle of deep brown in it.

"I don't regret it," Taehyung disregards him. "I liked her—y/n—and no matter what you think of me, that stands true. You must like her too, she told me about you some nights. I have to admit, hearing about another boy when she's laying in my own bed wasn't very pleasant for me, but you made her happy. You mean a lot to her," Jungkook shut his eyes tightly, cursing as he tried to get the image of Taehyung holding you in his arms out of his mind. "I know you don't think I care about her, but I do, so just fucking listen for a second okay? I know i'm no good for her, but you aren't either. You're too immature, we both know y/n deserves way more. See where you are now? Right under me when you could be there for her? Have you even seen her today? Have you asked her how she's been?"

"What... what the fuck are you saying."

Taehyung sighs, and stumbles back to stand, wincing as the harsh winds slap his bloodied face. He nimbly looks for his cigarette, and before he lights it, Jungkook grabs his lighter. "I said what the fuck do you mean?!"

"I ended it with her," Taehyung glares at him, his voice firm, cold as he snatches the lighter back. Jungkook feels his heart drop. “You...what?"

There's silence, and when the man turns to look at the sun drowning into the ocean’s abyss, he lights the cigarette, "the fireworks are starting soon." Jungkook's eyes widens. Before he knows it, he's already running.

You’ve always loved the fireworks.

His footsteps that were submerged into sand were now padding against the concrete of the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his ears. A few cars must have honked at him here and there as he ran through the streets, unknowing of his surrounding because all he can think of his getting to his destination—you. He frantically reaches for his phone, panting.

You

JK : where are you?

my love : my room

my love : 613, 7th floor

JK : on my way.

ACT V. | HOLD ME TIGHT

At least the fireworks were pretty.

Your eyelids drooped, puffed with drowsy red as you watched the sparkling scene on the balcony of the hotel. Evening's cold breeze teased your bare legs, dancing with the delicate ends of your black, satin nightgown. You were hugging yourself yourself, leaning against the cold railings as sparks of vivid red shatter into memories tainted with heartbreak. The red silk sheets that you grasped tightly beneath you. The red lingerie that Taehyung slid off your skin. The red wine he poured into the pan when you told him you were hungry. You liked watching him the most, you thought as he stood in front of the stove, his eyes trained on the steak. You liked watching him unbutton his top, talk about his day, how he let out loud laughter whenever a funny story would come up. You loved when he unveiled himself for you, when he'd strip off his enigmatic persona bare and let you peer into his soul.

But that's all you ever did, you guessed, all you ever could do. You watched him when he smiled down at you, his cold fingertips brushing your waist, and you watched him as he left.

It must've been 4 minutes into the firework show when you heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, you leave the balcony as yellow ignites the night sky. You open the door to Jungkook, his chest heaving up and down, his hair tousled by wind, beads of sweat sticking to his neck.

When he doesn't say anything, and neither do you, you step aside to let him in. You wonder if he was still angry about last night, how he'd react when you tell him—but with the way he looked down at you, tender eyes dawned with sadness, you already understand you don’t have to. "I know," Jungkook steps closer, pulling you into a hug. His warmth embraces you as darkness does when the door clicks shut. "What happened, I know."

You sighed, closing your eyes. The fireworks sounded so distant compared to his heartbeat. Jungkook must've ran for you, you thought as your buried your face into his chest. Of course he would, he always has. Maybe that certainty is what intoxicates you to murmur, "I'll accept it."

"What?"

"What you proposed last night, I'll accept it," you say calmly, quietly. You looked up at him with wavering eyes, "please...I need you right now."

Jungkook's heart practically lurched out of his chest. He knew he should take a step back, tell you that you'd end up regretting it and to take it back before it was too late. He knew, but the devil on his shoulder was much more insistent than his angel, and maybe... maybe his angel wanted it too—so fuck it all.

Jungkook took your lips in a magnetic dance, drawing you closer into him with one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head.

God, you were so lovely. How your head lolled for him, soft, plush lips jarred open. Jungkook has always been good at controlling himself when it came to you, but when he heard the slightest whimper escape your trembling lips, he felt he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He didn't seek for permission to suck your lower lip, didn’t even seek permission to slide his tongue inside your lovely little mouth when you gasped. He held your chin, deepening the kiss. More, more, more—he wanted more of you. He wanted to explore your body, wanted to make your breath tremble, wanted to find out what you liked and disliked under bedsheets. Jungkook wanted to know you better than anyone else had. He wanted you, needed you.

“Kook,” You whimper into him as he pushes you against the wall, holding your thigh up. He grinds his bulge against your clothed cunt, sending wild tremors along your nerves. “F-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He takes your other thigh, and you yelp as he lifts you up. Your surprise quickly washes out with haze when he buries his thick tent further into you. You let out a moan, wrapping your legs around his torso. “I can make you feel even better.”

The explosions of the fireworks are blurred with the palpitations of your heart as Jungkook lays you on the bed, his lips immediately finding home in yours. "Love how you sound for me, love," Jungkook’s wet, needy kisses trail down your neck...to your collarbones...to your breast. “So pretty like this, always so pretty,” his fingers ghost your sensitive nipples, perked from evening's cold. He doesn't waste any time to take one nipple into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other.

His cold hand trails down your stomach, finally pressing it down your soaked underwear. He smirks, feeling the soaked outline of your pussy lips. “Already so wet for me baby? How cute."

His plush lips leave your nipple with a pop, instead latching onto the crook of your neck. Your eyes go wide when you realize what he's about to do. “Wait, d-don’t! Not th—ah.” He doesn't allow you to finish your sentence, swiftly sliding your underwear out of the way before pressing a hard thumb over your clit. “Don't deny me, y/n,” His voice is low over your whiny moans. He sucks on the supple of your skin as he slides one, slender finger into you, smoothly drawing it in and out while he rolls your little bud with his other. “Please, need to show everyone that you’re mine,” he murmurs, licking his work, perfectly tinged with a pretty pink . “Besides...” he trails, taking note of your arousal dripping down his wrists. “You love this, don’t you?”

“N-No..! I...ah, K-Kook, Kookie..!” Your voice fails you, moans escaping from your trembling lips. “Jungkook s-stop..!” Jungkook frowns against your skin, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze. “Why not?” His eyes are dark. You try to fight the muddle of your mind as his slow, tentative fingers continue to work on your cunt. “B-Because...because student c-council. It's inappropriate, and your friends will ask, a-and... mm!—“

“Taehyung?” Jungkook says bitterly, but you’re too indulged with the knot in your stomach. You moan loudly, your hands finding anchor wrapped around his biceps. “I'm sure you don’t want Taehyung to see, do you?” Jungkook's pace is furious now, and you barely make out his words through the thick fog of your mind. You feel so close. “Don’t want him to know that you're with me, hm? That i’m finger fucking you into my dumb whore."

His indecent words paint a wild blush on your cheeks. You never knew Jungkook could be like this, could be so mean.

"You know what I think..."

Jungkook lowers himself down between your sweaty thighs, quivering with painful pleasure. "''Think my dumb babygirl wants me to clean her messy little pussy up. Would you like that, love?"

"Y-Yeah," you moan, desperately bucking your hips up, "p-please eat me out, Kook."

"Needy girl," Jungkook lets out a sigh, his pants tightening around his painful hard on. You were so pretty like this, Jungkook swore he could cum just by watching you.

You almost cry when he pulls his fingers away, instead squeezing around your squishy hips. You do cry, though, when he gives your pussy a tantalizing lick, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Knew my baby girl would taste so sweet," he groans. His tongue circles around your throbbing bud, sucking on it.

"Fuck! K-Kook, I-I can't," you wail, tears falling down your cheeks. Jungkook only flutters his eyes open, watching you with heated eyes as his tongue works on your wet cunt.

"Please, g-gonna cum, please!" Your back arches. Jungkook's hands the only thing anchoring you down.

"Then cum, baby, cum for me." Jungkok's voice is tender, coaxing like warm honey. With his encouragement, your dripping cunt spasms, unfurling your cream all over him. "That's my girl," His attentive tongue takes your sweet release, the embarrassing sound of slurping clouding your brain.

"You were so good for me, baby," He cooes, planting one final kiss on your quivering bud. Your cheeks tinge with a shy pink.

He lifts himself up, carefully laying over you so his forehead is pressed against yours. His eyes search yours under the veil of the moonlight. The fireworks must've stopped along the way, your heavy breaths filling the quiet room. "Tired, love?" Jungkook whispers, and you nod timidly, reaching your arms out to hug him.

Your skin is sticky with sweat like melting ice cream on hot summer days, but Jungkook adores his body pressed against yours. His fingers squeeze your smooth waist, placing gentle kisses on your neck, up your jaw, capturing your lips once more in a slow dance. A thin string line of saliva connects the two of you when he pulls back, and he breaks it off with a gentle graze across your wet lips.

"Think you can continue for me, baby?" Jungkook asks soothingly. "It's okay if you can't, of course. Must've been such a long day for you."

You shake your head, your hand lightly tracing the outline of the small scar on his cheek. You still remember the day he fell off his bicycle, somehow managing to tumble down the hill all the way to the train tracks. It must've been the first time you ever saw him cry.

"I want to."

"Are you sure?" His eyebrows perk up. "Because we really don't have to. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to please me. I know you took my offer, but if you aren't ready or comfortable, nothing has to happen. Believe it or not, pleasuring you already makes me feel euphoric." His words have you melt, gentle as a sweet night's lullaby.

"But I want us to feel good together," you say softly. "Please take me, Kookie. I want you." Jungkook's eyes widen, faint pink blooming on his cheeks, and you watch the stars in his eyes grow brighter with your shy gaze. He lets out a small chuckle, "god, you really don't know what you do to me, y/n."

He places a gentle peck on your lips one last time before rising to his knees, discarding his clothes. You're quick to slip off your nightdress and underwear, and you patiently admire Jungkook's toned physique as he worked to unbuckle his belt. Even the moon was enamored with him, tracing its luminous glow from his broad shoulders to his biceps, wrapping around his slim waist.

Your breath hitches when his dick springs out right in front of you, thick and swollen, oozing pre cum. Jungkook watches you with heated eyes, his hand grazing his dick. "Wow," you breathe, sitting up and replacing his hand with yours. Jungkook's hisses when you stroke his cock, doe eyed to his length that throbbed with neglect. "You're so pretty, Kookie. You're pretty everywhere..."

"I should be the one who's telling you that, darling," he lets out a shaky breath through his smile, his hand finding your cheek. "Now, i’d love for that lovely little mouth of yours to suck my cock, but I feel like i'm gonna explode any minute now, and i'd like to do so inside of you," he chuckles when a furious blush takes your cheeks. You let him push you down, positioning himself in between your legs. He takes his pulsating cock in his hands, sliding his glistening head over your cunt. "Would you like that baby? Want me to cum in this cute little pussy? Wanna take Kook's cum like a good girl?" You feel yourself shy from his words, whimpering, "y-yes please, Kookie."

"Tell me how much you want it, baby."

"S-So bad. Kookie p-please, want you to fill me up."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckled, a cocky smirk on his lips that made you tremble. "Think your tiny pussy can even take my cock?"

"Y-Yes, m'pussy wants your cock, p-please Kook!"

"Dirty girl, love it when you beg for me," he pushes the blunt head of his cock into your swelling entrance, already having you see stars by the time he fills you up whole. "You okay?" Jungkook breathes out, his forehead falling against yours. You nodded timidly, "j-just need a little time to adjust."

"Okay, baby, tell me when you're ready." He pecks your nose, letting out a shaky sigh as your walls clench around him. When you do, Jungkook takes your knees, pushing them on either side of you so your legs are spread out wide for him.

He pulls out his whole cock so he could see the flush tip of his cock before plunging back into you. You moan loudly to his even pace, bottoming you out with every thrust.

"F-fuck, been wishing for this forever. Just want to punish this pussy for making me wait for this long."

Harsh skin to skin contact and the squelch of your juices mixing together fills your fuzzy mind. You felt so full, you could practically feel him in your belly. "Shit, you're practically swallowing me. You like this, don't you?"

"Y-yeah, love your cock, Kookie," you moan, his pace growing faster and more unforgiving. "I'm never letting you go after this, fuck y/n. You're mine, you’re so fucking mine. Say it, say you're mine, p-please."

"Yours," you whimper, feeling the familiar tingling ecstasy overwhelm your stomach. "O-Only yours, Kookie."

"That's right, baby, open your mouth." You didn't know exactly why, but you didn't question him. He could tell you to do absolutely anything right now and you'd do it. Your wet lips jar open for him, and Jungkook spits in your mouth, sending a wave of tremor through your body. "Swallow."

You listen, obediently swallowing. "That's my girl."

"Kookie, kookie...m'gonna cum!"

"Again baby? You’re so easy, barely have to do anything and you're spilling." You moan to his words, thrusting in and out of you in a hypnotic pace. "Go on then, baby. Cum for me, make a mess over my balls."

Your whole body tenses, feeling the overwhelming wave wash over you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you release around him the second time. "Good girl, baby, so good for me, fuck," Jungkook hisses to your tightening walls squeezing around him, driving himself into your belly until he pours all his cum deep inside of you.

You practically drooled, his load coming out in spurts of thick cream. When he pulls out, your pussy twitches, his cum oozing out. He falls onto your chest, and your heavy pants fill the room.

After awhile, Jungkook lazily pulls you to lay over him. "Okay, baby?"

"Mm," you murmur into his sweaty chest, trying to recollect your breath. You open your mouth to thank him, but a loud explosion takes your voice. In a second, waves of yellow wash the room, then blue, then purple. Your tiredness subdues into drowsy awe. You sit up and Jungkook does too, positioning you on his lap. "I think this is the second show. Timing is fitting don't you think?"

You giggle, and Jungkook sees daylight in your eyes. "Too fitting. I'm starting to think that this was all part of some big plan."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, laughing as he tucks a hair behind your ear. "Silly girl, of course it is." You look at him quizzically. "We're soulmates aren't we? The universe is just celebrating us."

You smile, sighing as you lean into his chest. "Whatever you say, my soulmate." Jungkook's eyes widen. He felt twelve again, dumbstruck euphoria overwhelming his love for you any time you called him yours. His shock settles into a soft smile, holding you in his arms while you watch the fireworks. It takes him awhile to realize your eyes are closed though.

"Sleepy, love? Thought you loved the fireworks."

"I do," you giggle, pushing him down onto the soft mattress. You snuggle into his chest. "Just listening to your heartbeat."

Jungkook blushes. He was going to urge you to clean up, but with you looking so cozy on top of him, he knew you'd much rather rest. He sighs lovingly, stroking your hair. He hasn't felt this happy in awhile. "About your payment, I’ll wire $800 just for tomorrow, but we’ll officially talk about the—"

“Shhhh!” You grumble, burying your head further into him. “Don’t wanna talk about money right now, just let me be with you.”

Jungkook blinks, and you look up to him with a pout. Purple lights up the seoul's night sky, casting an soft glow on Jungkook’s face. He chuckles, thumb brushing your cheeks.

"Needy girl.”

a/n : wooooo this took the longest time to write. its pretty bulky so whoevers got to this point i love you sosososo and i hope you enjoyed my work ! feedback is welcome and super appreciated, reading comments really do make my day <3 i was thinking of making a sequel/continuation for this but im not so sure ,, we'll see. anyways, i hope you have a lovely day my loves ! stay hydrated and healthy, i hope you eat good food today. make sure to take care of yourself too !

#jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jk #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook scenarios #jungkook friends to lovers #kim taehyung

[azucanela]

FIRST KISS HEADCANNONS

[ft. hinata shoyo, kageyama tobio, tsukishima kei, yamaguchi tadashi]

SUMMARY: you and the boys have your first kiss and its... well its something. 

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: second hand embarassment, first kiss stuff, season three spoiler

A/N: why do i always simp for emotionally unavailable men? but i like this it makes me happy aksdhkjsha

HINATA SHOYO

as we all know, hinata is an energetic baby

like really energetic, calm tf down man 

anyways there are two possible situations

hinata gets over excited after making a really good spike while practicing with you or maybe he wins a game, and he kisses you.

OR, alternatively, he is blabbering on and on about volleyball and one of his games and you kiss him and hes just like

:O

not experienced, unless you count that one girl in kindergarten. 

he is VERY eager and wants to please you so he’ll probably learn pretty fast but it takes him a while to understand what you like because hes slow

but once he gets it?

oh hes got it

Is all over you 24/7 once you two kiss for the first time

VERY affectionate, this is his love language you cannot stop him

unless you say no, he’ll get sad but he drinks his respect women juice

no matter what, when you two first kiss, he is going to be embarrassed, and instead of an orange he will be a TOMATO

he is going to apologize to you, even if you kissed him, it’ll be awkward no matter what

Y/N didn’t know what she expected studying with Hinata to be like, of course she did believe that there would be actual studying. He had started out by telling her how he could absolutely not fail his upcoming tests, or else he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball, and this turned into more talks about volleyball. And more talks about volleyball. 

It had been about an hour and they had yet to get anything done. 

The way his eyes lit up made her happy, truly. She knew how much volleyball meant to him. When she met him in middle school she saw how desperately to be on a real team, and now that he was its only natural to be excited. Maybe his passion was the reason she liked him so much.

But Y/N really needed him to shut up or else he wouldn’t be playing any volleyball and she would be stuck with his moping. His passion was pretty annoying at the moment.

What better way to shut up your crush than with a kiss? 

It had been an accident, truly. When her lips found his in the midst of one of his speeches about volleyball and how great it felt to actually be playing, she genuinely thought it was the best way to silence him. And she was right. 

She surged forwards, lips meeting his, barely giving him enough time to respond before pulling back. Y/N’s cheeks warmed as she brought the textbook up to cover her face, “we need to work.” 

Hinata’s mouth gaped open.

She kissed him.

She kissed him. 

She kissed him.

Suddenly he’s yanking the textbook down from in front of her face and pulling her forward by the shirt, lips crashing together as she falls forward into his lap with a grunt of surprise. She brings her hands to his shoulders to support herself before pulling away.

This time Hinata is bright red, “I’m so sorry Y/N! I-”

Y/N quickly realized she wouldn’t be comforting him because of volleyball as she leaned forward to kiss him again.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

so um

this mans is either gonna be SCARY SMOOTH

this is mostly by accident, completely unintentional but wow

or you kiss him and he thinks he dreamed that stuff up and tries to like pinch himself in the midst of the kiss while you’re there like ???

will blush but only after the fact not during

has not kissed anyone or thing aside from a volleyball

when y’all kiss the first time he is gonna wanna do it again

and again

and again

hes trying to figure out what you like and hes GOOD AT IT 

very talented despite never having kissed anyone

a quick study

Would definitely want advice from his teammates on kissing, but no one in his year

they’d all bully him, ahem tsukki

aside from bb yamaguchi he’d be like “you can do this!” 

so naturally he goes to the guys who know everything about girls! 

Tanaka and Nishinoya :,)

poor bb

they’d tell him all these bad pick up lines but there are also some valuable lessons learnt from observing his seniors like worshipping the ground you walk on just as they do for kiyoko

Y/N was beginning to regret her decision to babysit with Kageyama. Sure, he was cute. And sure he was nice and adorable and awkward. And sure he was her crush, but he was also distracting and she could only watch one child at a time. He’d asked for her help, and she’d agreed, because what could possibly go wrong? 

A lot, apparently.

They’d managed to get the kids to sleep, and the baby monitor on the coffee table beside them had yet to make a noise. Kageyama had gone to the kitchen, while Y/N sat on the couch, attempting to relax after having dealt with demons that were referred to as children. She watched as Kageyama entered, two mugs in hand, “hot chocolate.” Is all he said.

Y/N smiles at him, her exhaustion evident on her face as she accepts the cup gratefully, “thanks.” She laughs a little to herself, “of course you like hot chocolate.” She mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Kageyama tilted his head at her in response, “what do you mean?”

She places her drink on the coffee table, “well its warm chocolate milk. And you love milk.” Came her response. 

He nods in agreement, “I suppose you and milk have something in common.” And Y/N laughs softly at this comment as he sips his milk nonchalantly. 

And then it hits her, causing her to choke on her own drink.

Kageyama didn’t necessarily know how to talk to girls, but with her, it was just easy. Like volleyball, being with her felt like Volleyball. Of course, flirting was something Kageyama had never attempted and he wanted to do it right, so naturally he went to get some advice from some of his teammates. He’d never seen Nishinoya and Tanaka look so happy. Luckily, Sugawara had stepped in before they’d done any permanent damage, and here he was. 

This was not the outcome he expected as he put his own drink down in a panic, eyes wide as he quickly came to her side, patting her back. She coughs once more before speaking, “I’m sorry what. Did I hear you right because-” She paused, realizing how close they were, his hand on her lower back now and her hand on his shoulder.

Kageyama cleared his throat, “can I.. uh can I kiss you?” 

She nearly didn’t respond, voice caught in her throat, but quickly nodded her head when she realized he was awaiting her answer. His other hand came up to her cheek and she met his gaze, nodding once more.

And then they kissed, her hand gripping his shoulder as she tried to pull him closer, though it didn’t last long as they broke apart. Y/N beamed at him, laughing happily as she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his neck, his back fell onto the couch as his hands circled her waist, pulling her closer, a soft smiling forming on his face.

Y/N brought her head up from his neck and pressed another kiss to his lips, hand finding its way into his hair. 

“Kageyama, I’m thirsty, could you get me water?”

Kageyama bolted upwards, forehead bumping Y/N’s before she rolled off him and onto the floor, grunting as she made contact and rubbing her likely soon to be bruised head. 

“Oh my god-”

TSUKISHIMA KEI

oh tsukki, honey

he’ll probably kiss you first, and it’ll be be SOFT because this mans is SOFT FOR YOU

this time around it’ll probably be you who won’t shut up and he just kinda

goes for it

or when they beat shiratorizawa and hes deemed MVP he is just so excited he just-

if you get the opportunity to kiss him first he will get SO FLUSTERED but he’ll brush it off

his cheeks are bright red but he’ll pretend they aren’t

he asks sugawara for advice 

he’s a nervous boy but will deny ever talking to sugawara ever in his life if someone brings this up

just wants you to be his partner :,)

yamaguchi bullies him into confessing calls him a whimp and hes like damn yamaguchi got a spine now? yamaguchi definitely ROASTS HIM FOR NOT TELLING YOU AJKSDH

has probably kissed like one person, he’s a decent kisser that picks up signals really well

is smooth, like screw you tsukki my heart cannot HANDLE IT

emotionally available for you and you alone!! and maybe yamaguchi

If it had been anyone else, Tsukishima would’ve told her to shut up and let him walk home in peace. If it had been anyone he wouldn’t have even been here, he would’ve turned right about two blocks ago and headed home.

But it was Y/N, and he hadn’t turned right two blocks ago, instead he’d taken off his jacket and silently handed it to her when he’d noticed she had been shivering. 

And now he was listening to her talk about how stupid their math teacher was and how she was about to fight him for taking a point off even though she had gotten the question right. Her excessive hand gestures nearly hitting him in the face a few times. 

“I’m starting to seriously reconsider coming to Karasuno, honestly this man has the audacity to question my academic ability when I’ve been at the top of his class for-”

“I’m starting to seriously reconsider liking you.” 

A noise of shock escaped her and she faltered in her steps, stumbling forward and nearly falling flat on her face had Tsukishima not caught her.

Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her hands rested on his biceps, and his on her waist, his brow raised as she looked up at him before looking away, red evident on his cheeks as she smirked. “I could say the same.” 

He scoffed, “you just tripped because I told you I liked you.” He leaned closer to her, a small gap separating them, “I’d say you still like me.” 

Y/N raised a brow, “you sound pretty confident.” 

He smirked, hands around her waist pulling her closer before pressing his lips to hers. Her hands rising up to his neck, Y/N breaks the kiss, smiling at him. “God you’re such a nerd.” 

Tsukishima simply rolls his eyes, flicking her forehead as she yelps. 

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

rip you and him 2020

either you kiss him and he freaks the hell out

or he kisses you and immediately starts apologizing for ever being born 

either way homeboy is gonna freak out

probably kissed a girl in spin the bottle once and nearly cried because of it, but he has very little experience

would tell tsukishima he likes you and get bullied

if he seeks advice he would probably go to tsukishima even though hes just as clueless he just acts cool its a facade

tsukishima would just tell him to quit freaking out over it

“just tell her how you feel, idiot”

he would probably tell you about yamaguchi’s feelings if he thought you felt the same

would likely prefer to suffer in silence with his “unrequited” feelings, than tell you and get rejected

homie does not think you like him like that

he just doesn’t think its possible for an angel like you to like him

hes perfect and deserves everything and would TREAT YOU RIGHT 10/10 he observes nishinoya and tanaka and FOLLOWS THEIR LEAD

first kiss is definitely awkward but once hes comfortable it’ll get better i swear man his game just give him a chance

Y/N was getting tired of this. How many times had she shamelessly flirted with Yamaguchi? How many times had she practically shoved in his face that she liked him. Sure, she hadn’t said. it up front, but she figured her previous tactics would have some sort of effect on him, and they did, he got incredibly flustered, but there was no sign he understood what she was saying.

So what better way to let him know that she liked him than to kiss him? Thats about as forward as you can be? Right? Right. 

As they closed the gym together, she was wondering if maybe this was the best plan. Maybe he didn’t like her back, maybe this would ruin their friendship, maybe it was better to just... not.

Y/N watched as he locked the gym doors, turning to her, “alright, all done,” his freckled cheeks were pink as he continued, “thanks for staying behind to help me.” 

She smiled softly at him, nodding, “of course.” Y/N extended her hand to him, “shall we?” 

He looked away as he grasped her hand, trying to his the deepening red of his cheeks as she pulled him along for their walk. Or at least, what he thought was their walk, because she yanked his hand, effectively pulling him closer to her and allowing her to press her lips to his.

His brain seemed to short circuit as his eyes widened, and she quickly pulled away, “I’m sorry.” She laughed awkwardly as she stared at him, releasing his hand. “We should probably go...” She trailed off avoiding his gaze.

Yamaguchi quickly realized he needed to do something, quickly reaching forward to grab her hand, causing him to stumble and fall, bringing her down with him. He grunted as his back hit the pavement, Y/N falling on top of him, their heads knocking together causing her to groan. He opened his mouth, at a loss for words, as she pushed up on his chest, trying to get up, but he pulled her back down. “What the hell Yamaguchi?” 

He swallowed nervously, “can you- do you think you could kiss me again?” He mumbled.

Y/N’s mouth gaped open, though it soon turned into a smirk, “of course I can.”

#hinata shoyo x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #kageyama #tsukishima #yamaguchi #hinata #x reader #hinata x reader #tsukishima x reader #kageyama x reader #yamaguchi x reader #tadashi x reader #kei x reader #tobio x reader #shoyo x reader #tadashi x you #tsukishima x you #shoyo x you #hinata x you #kageyama x you #hq x reade #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! fluff #kageyama headcannons

[ughgclden]

bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

#asks <3 #anon asks! #star anon #long post

[junghelioseok]

pronoia.

↳ you can definitively say that you did not sign up for this.

◇ namjoon x reader ◇ zombie apocalypse!au | college!au ◇ 15k [1/1]

notes: a very late birthday present for @imaginationofacrazyfangirl, who i kind of like for some reason. 

⇢ pronoia (n): a state of mind that is the opposite of paranoia. a suspicion that the universe is conspiring in your favor.

warnings: some violence obviously. some gore. mostly just me trying to be funny. irreverent humor, zombieland jokes, and a couple bad philosophy references bc idk what i’m talking about. exactly one (1) brooklyn 99 joke. yoongi is lowkey a badass bc u cannot convince me his crafty, conniving ass wouldn’t be good in this kind of situation. jk’s ready to risk it all for a twinkie. tbh this is kind of a mess and the ending might be rushed but i still worked really hard on it so please leave feedback sndfjfkjsksds 🙈

It’s too quiet.

Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, the dull hum fading into the background as water starts dripping somewhere to your left. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically against your ribcage as you suck in a deep breath and tighten your grip on your baseball bat.

It’s hard to believe that just three days ago, you were a regular college student. Three days ago, your biggest concerns were finding a decently paid summer job and getting through your last philosophy lecture without daydreaming about the cute teaching assistant bending you over his desk. But now, sandwiched between two rows in the back of your university’s biggest auditorium, you have several new concerns. Bigger concerns.

And first and foremost among them, are the zombies.

To be honest, you still aren’t entirely sure how it happened. The last emergency alert had killed your phone’s battery for good, and you’d only just managed to catch a glimpse of the words “mutated virus” and “nationwide epidemic” before the screen faded to black. And a good thing too—the undead guy trying to sneak up on you from behind definitely would have gotten you had you not seen his reflection in your now-useless hunk of metal and glass.

Thank god for the softball unit in high school gym class, you think to yourself, trying in vain to wipe the blood and brain matter off of your bat. Sure, you didn’t think you’d be utilizing those skills to kill zombies, but at this new low point in your life, anything that aids your survival is a home run in your book.

Deeming your weapon sufficiently clean, you tuck it back into a makeshift sling you’d fashioned out of an old scarf, adjusting it so that it lays flat against your spine. With both hands now free, you begin inching toward the back exit. There’s a growing ache in your bladder that you can no longer ignore, and you send a quick prayer up to any gods that may exist before cracking the auditorium door open, glancing left and right down the seemingly empty hallway. Silently, you count to ten.

After a few more moments of deliberation, you decide the coast is clear. The restrooms are at the very end of the hall, and you can’t help but feel like the little gendered stick figures are taunting you as you cautiously make your way toward them, your shoes silent against the linoleum floor.

You are approximately fifteen feet away from your destination when you hear footsteps. Your heart kicks into overdrive at the unsteady rhythm—a short tap followed by a long dragging sound, as if the approaching individual were limping. For a moment, you debate running for the nearest bathroom and barricading yourself inside, but enclosed spaces are a bad idea according to every zombie movie you’ve ever seen, and you aren’t particularly keen on the idea of becoming zombie food.

Instead, you steel yourself and turn around, pulling out your bat. The approaching zombie doesn’t look like a student—in fact, you’re pretty sure he was your trigonometry teacher for a semester during freshman year—but that’s hardly important right now.

What is important, however, is the black-and-white figure that’s just rounded the corner behind the limping math professor-turned-zombie. And it’s running toward you—fast. Far faster than any of the undead beings you’ve seen, and, upon closer inspection, faster than most of the human beings you know.

And that can only mean one thing.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, half in surprise and half in horror as the dark-haired track star pulls even with your former professor and swings at his head, using all of his momentum and landing a solid crack. The zombie crumples to the linoleum floor, blood and viscera seeping from the crack in his skull, and you frown in distaste before looking up at your classmate. “Uh, hi?”

“{Name}?” Jungkook asks in disbelief, skidding to a stop. He’s wearing a single boxing glove on one hand and wielding a smashed wine bottle in the other, and you almost want to laugh at his appearance. After all, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure he was wearing the exact same thing at the last house party you both attended. But now—with a bloodied zombie still twitching at your feet and the imminent threat of even more coming after you—probably isn’t the best time to bring that up.

“It is you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, his eyes widening. “Are you alone?”

You nod. “Yeah. You?”

Jungkook nods back. “Yeah. You’re the first person I’ve come across who hasn’t—well… you know.” He gestures downward vaguely.

“Yeah. I know.”

For a few seconds, the two of you stand in silence, ruminating on how everything managed to change so quickly. Just last week, you and Jungkook were regular college students. He ran track and and co-captained the campus dance crew, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lab partners, you aren’t sure you ever would have met. But after months of sitting together in class, equally stumped by the biology textbooks you were forced to buy and elbow-deep in formaldehyde far too often for your liking, you’ve grown to consider him a friend. And right now, you really, really needed a friend.

“Jungkook,” you begin, laying an arm on his shoulder, “I need your help.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he says, shaking his shaggy hair out of his face like a dog and glancing around the hallway. “We should team up. I mean, we’ve been lab partners for months so we already know we work great togethe—“

“We’ve failed almost half of our lab reports, and you nearly set the table on fire last Tuesday,” you cut in. “But that’s not the point. The point is the current state of my bladder and how you can help me with it.”

Jungkook blinks. “Uh.”

“I need to pee,” you clarify.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about that?”

“Come with me,” you reply, grabbing his wrist. Jungkook lets out a protesting grunt when you begin pulling him down the hallway toward the restrooms, struggling even more vigorously when you try to make him follow you inside.

“This is the girl’s bathroom!” he gasps, wrenching out of your grasp.

You stare at him. “The entire city is overrun by zombies and that’s what you’re worried about?”

“It’s weird!” he protests. Nevertheless, he trots in on your heels, peering around curiously as you bang on the wall of the nearest stall in an attempt to draw any lurkers out into the open.

“Check for zombies, idiot,” you instruct when Jungkook gets distracted by his own reflection in the mirror. “I don’t wanna get eaten.”

He huffs but complies nonetheless. Raising his broken wine bottle, he glances into each stall, kicking open the doors with unnecessary force. “Clear,” he reports once he’s checked the last one, offering you a mock salute. The effect is ruined by the bright red boxing glove still on his hand, but you bite back the snide remark on your tongue and instead walk into the nearest stall.

“Plug your ears or something,” you tell him as you lock the door. “I don’t want you listening to me pee.”

“Why the hell would I listen?” Jungkook retorts, sounding thoroughly horrified.

“Some people are into that,” you reply, wagging a finger at him despite the fact that he can’t see you through the closed door. “It’s called urolagnia. Don’t kinkshame.”

“I don’t want to know why you know that,” he grumbles under his breath. “Shut up and pee already. I have to go too.”

“But this is the girls’ room,” you snipe, finishing your business and stepping out to wash your hands. Jungkook takes your place inside the stall while you turn on the sink, eyeing his reflection pointedly in the mirror. “You’re gonna get cooties.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha,” he says dryly. “You’re hilarious.”

And then he’s turning around, flipping you the bird before slamming the metal door in your face.

You shrug, unfazed. “I know I am,” you say, addressing your own reflection in the mirror. “Also, do you by any chance own a car?”

///

“This feels like a bad idea,” Jungkook mutters, eyeing the quiet parking lot. It’s nowhere near full, but there are still several dozen cars scattered around, empty and abandoned with no owners to be found. At the far end lies your prize—a black SUV with tinted windows and a bicycle strapped to the roof. “Should we make a run for it?” Jungkook asks. “I mean, we don’t really have any other options if we wanna make it out of here with our brains intact, and—”

“Hang on a sec,” you interrupt, grabbing his arm. “We can create a diversion first. Give me your wine bottle—I’m gonna throw it.”

Jungkook hugs the glass bottle to his chest, eyes round and expression aghast. “And leave myself defenseless? What do you want me to do, punch the zombies away?”

“That’s literally what you did ten minutes ago,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

He pauses for a long moment before a resigned sigh leaves his lips. “Fine. I get to throw it, though.”

“Whatever,” you reply, waving a hand at him. “Knock yourself out. Or them. You should really knock them out, on second thought.”

Jungkook wisely chooses to ignore your rambling, hefting the bottle and testing its weight. Rearing back, he tosses it in a perfect arc, and you watch in fascination as it somersaults through the air before crashing down onto the asphalt in an explosion of shattered glass. “There!” you hiss urgently, tugging on Jungkook’s sleeve when a zombie immediately lumbers out from behind a nearby sedan, searching for the source of the noise. “We run on three, got it?”

“Got it,” he whispers back, watching raptly as several more zombies follow the first. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Together, you make a mad dash for the SUV. Jungkook gets there first, skidding to a stop and trying the driver’s side door only to find it locked. “I’ll check the other side,” you tell him, glancing around to make sure the zombies are still distracted. “Work on breaking a window or something, fast!”

The sound of a throat being cleared stops you dead in your tracks. “You’ll do no such thing,” a low voice drawls. A moment later, the platinum blond head of Min Yoongi—a reclusive senior you only know because he deejays at your favorite club every Friday night— pops out from behind the hood of the car, his dark eyes narrowed at you accusingly. “We got dibs on this one.”

“Yoongi?” you ask in surprise. “What are you—wait. We? Who’s we?”

“I’m we,” a new voice announces—one that you’re very, very familiar with. Kim Namjoon steps into view behind Yoongi, and you aren’t sure whether to be horrified or thrilled to see your philosophy TA alive and well, with what looks like a metal fence pole perched on his shoulder like a bayonet. “Hey, {Name},” Namjoon says, offering you a small smile. “Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“N-Namjoon,” you stammer, your heart skipping a beat and racing to catch back up. “You’re… okay.”

“More or less,” the tall man replies agreeably, shrugging. Then he glances toward his blond companion, raising a quizzical brow. “Come on, Yoongi. We’ve got room for two more, don’t we?”

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath that sounds like acquiescence, and Namjoon grins, patting him on the back. “Welcome aboard,” he says, turning back to face you and Jungkook. “We’ve got to move fast. You’re Jeon Jungkook, right? I’ve seen you around the track field. Can you do me a favor and watch my back while I open this door?”

Jungkook nods, accepting Namjoon’s brief handshake and the metal pole he hands over. Namjoon then pulls a wire coat hanger out of his jacket pocket, and you watch, awestruck, as he jimmies the car door open.

“There aren’t any keys,” Jungkook points out, peering over the taller man’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the ignition. “Now what? Does anyone know how to hotwire a car?”

“Yes,” Namjoon and Yoongi say simultaneously.

“Well, only in theory,” Namjoon adds when Yoongi rolls his eyes and brushes past him to duck underneath the steering wheel. “Yoongi’s the real expert here.”

“That makes me sound like a criminal,” the blond man grumbles as he sets his toolbox on the ground and gets to work. “For the record, I only know how to do this because of all the times my keys have gone missing. I’m not the fucking Pontiac Bandit.”

“Sounds exactly like what the fucking Pontiac Bandit would say,” you and Jungkook say at the same time, high-fiving each other.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “This isn’t even a Pontiac,” he grumbles, hissing through his teeth as he pulls a few wires free and begins fiddling with them. “Quit watching me and make yourselves useful. Go check the trunk for supplies, or something. Christ.”

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, eyeing the surrounding cars. “That’s actually a good idea. There might be something useful in some of these other cars too. {Name}, why don’t you come with me? Jungkook should probably stay here and keep watch.”

Your mouth goes dry at his suggestion, but you nod hurriedly before your brain can short-circuit at the sound of your name leaving his lips so casually. “That… yeah. That sounds good. Let’s do that.”

“Good luck!” Jungkook calls cheerily as you walk off, earning himself a hard kick in the shins from Yoongi, who’s still flat on his back on the floor of the car.

“Dude, shut the fuck up! Do you want to die?”

Jungkook looks properly abashed. “Right,” he says, lowering his voice. “My bad.”

To your left, Namjoon muffles his laugh behind his hand. Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, and you grin, waving at the two before departing with Namjoon. Together, you wander deeper back into the maze of abandoned vehicles scattered around the lot, peering inside for anything that might be useful. Stopping at a sedan with open windows, you slip a hand inside and unlock the door. There’s an unopened bottle of soda in the cupholder, and Namjoon smiles as he reaches into the backseat and pulls out a few grocery bags.

“Try popping the trunk,” he suggests.

“On it,” you reply, searching for the right button. Namjoon walks around back to open the lid, grinning triumphantly when he sees what’s inside.

“More groceries,” he says, hefting another bag. “And half a case of bottled water. This should be enough to get us started.” Beckoning for you to join him, he hands over the three bags before hefting the case of water over one shoulder. “You okay? I can take a bag if you want.”

You shake your head, threading your baseball bat through the handles of each bag and hefting it onto your shoulder. “I’m fine. Thanks, though,” you tell him, trying to ignore the way your heart rate picks up when he gives you a look of approval, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth and dimpling his cheeks.

“So,” you begin as the two of you start trekking back toward the SUV, “where are we headed, anyway? It seems like you and Yoongi have a plan.”

Namjoon nods. “We do. There’s a reported quarantine zone up north—it’s all over Twitter.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out his cellphone, along with a massive battery pack. “I’ve been conserving my phone battery as much as I can, keeping track of any news, and I think it’s our best bet.”

“Smart.” Ruefully, you pull out your own device and show him the black screen. “My phone died ages ago.”

“You still might be able to charge it,” Namjoon points out. “The electrical grids haven’t gone down yet. And I know Yoongi’s got a cord back at the car, so we can charge our devices on the road too. He’s got all sorts of stuff—this battery pack is his, actually. I couldn’t find mine.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” you mutter, thinking back to every time he’s misplaced his laser pointer or lecture notes during class.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. Off in the distance, you spot a few zombies shambling along, no doubt searching for their next meal. Silently, you and Namjoon begin walking faster.

Yoongi and Jungkook are both seated inside the car by the time you return. Jungkook hops out to help you load the bags, and you shoot him a grateful grin as you climb into the backseat alongside him. Namjoon takes the passenger seat, kindly plugging in your phone while Yoongi adjusts his mirrors with a frown. “The engine’s gonna draw their attention,” he says. “They probably won’t be able to get us in the car, but hang onto your weapons just in case.” Then he pauses, glancing back at the metal pole in Jungkook’s hands and the wooden bat in yours. “Well. We’ll need to make a stop and get actual weapons.”

“We can try the police station,” Namjoon suggests. “I’m sure others will have had the same idea, but it’s really our only option. Then we’ll have to load up on food, water, and gas.”

Curiously, you peer into the grocery bags sitting on the floor between you and Jungkook. “Most of this stuff’s perishable. We’ll need to get non-perishable stuff if we’re going to be on the road for a long time. How far did you say that quarantined zone is, Namjoon?”

“I didn’t. I’m not actually one-hundred percent sure myself. Social media is a mess, as you might imagine.” Turning around in his seat, Namjoon shows you his Twitter feed—conflicting news alerts interspersed with grisly photos of the destroyed city and panicked requests for aid. “The last emergency alert said that the military base just outside of city limits is safe, but I’m not so sure.” He scrolls down, revealing several videos of zombies staggering around a helicopter, and upon closer inspection, you realize that they’re in full military garb. Horrified, you take his phone to get a closer look, thumbing down the page to reveal even more atrocities.

“Shit,” Jungkook breathes, sidling over to look over your shoulder. “That’s not good.”

Yoongi sighs, eyeing both of you in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, no kidding. The only thing we’re sure about so far is that the infection started in the south, so heading north is our best bet. And hopefully, we’ll find—”

THWUMP!

Namjoon’s phone clatters out of your hands as the parked car suddenly tilts, swaying dangerously to the left before all four wheels return to the asphalt once more. Horrified, you stare at the huddled horde of zombies that has suddenly appeared at your window, bloodstained hands trying in vain to reach you through the glass. “Yoongi, I think you need to drive now!” you shout, wincing as they begin thumping on the window in earnest.

The blond man curses when the car rocks again, his eyes flickering between the dashboard and the zombies swarming on Namjoon’s side of the car. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfu—HA!”

The engine roars to life, and you watch as the zombies closest to you flinch at the sudden noise before renewing their efforts, banging on the window until spiderwebbing cracks begin to form.

“Dude, floor it!” Jungkook yells.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. The car lurches forward, tires squealing, and you yelp as you’re slammed back against the seat. Instinctively, you fumble for your seat belt, ignoring the stunned look Jungkook shoots you in favor of buckling yourself in and watching the undead horde recede in the distance as you pull farther and farther away. “Holy shit,” you mutter, your head falling back against the backrest, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Holy fucking shit.”

Yoongi huffs out a sardonic chuckle as he slows ever so slightly to turn onto the main road. “Yeah. Welcome to the apocalypse.”

///

It’s odd, seeing the city you know and love in ruins. Billowing black smoke rises in the distance, filling the air with an acrid stench and a metallic tinge that you don’t want to think about. The roar of the SUV’s engine sounds like a siren’s song in the eerie silence of the streets, drawing unwanted attention from the undead. Everywhere you look, soulless eyes follow. Some zombies even try to chase the car, but they are quickly left behind as Yoongi slams down on the gas pedal, weaving past overturned vehicles and prone bodies.

You don’t wait to see if any of the bodies will rise up again.

Namjoon begins fiddling with the radio as Yoongi turns down yet another street, heading downtown. Static blares from the speakers, and you watch his frown get deeper the further along he scrolls through the stations. “Nothing,” he mutters after a few long minutes. “That’s not a good sign. The infrastructure is crumbling.”

Jungkook tears his gaze from the window. “What do you mean?”

Namjoon switches off the radio, letting silence envelop the car for a few seconds before speaking again. “I mean everything that sustains our way of life—the things we take for granted most days, like running water and electricity and the internet. We aren’t going to have them for much longer. Without workers to run things, we…” He sighs. “I figure we have maybe a week, at the most.”

“And then what happens?” you ask, your voice soft.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon admits. “To be honest, we might not even survive long enough to find out.”

“But we have to try,” you murmur. “Sure, we’re outnumbered and weaponless, but we have a car. We’re faster and smarter. I don’t think things are hopeless just yet.”

Namjoon shakes his head at your optimism, but Yoongi’s nodding, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Don’t mind him,” he advises. “Joon likes to overthink things and work himself up into a frenzy, but I think we’ve got a chance at making it through. Besides...” He gestures out the window with his thumb. “We won’t be weaponless for much longer.”

The car rolls to a stop in front of a square brick building that you recognize as the police station, the dark windows overlooking the street like gaping mouths. Most of the glass is broken—even on the higher stories—and you shiver at the sight of the jagged edges glinting like teeth in the wan afternoon sun.

“So... getting inside won’t be a problem,” Jungkook says dryly.

“Guess not,” Namjoon says, frowning. “Somebody definitely beat us here. Should we chance it? Everything could already be gone.”

“We’re already here, man,” Yoongi drawls, already beginning to open the door. “We may as well check it out.”

Cautiously, the four of you pile out of the SUV, eyes darting left and right as you make your way toward the front door with Jungkook in the lead. It’s hanging off its hinges and the glass is pocked with bullet holes, and a frown spreads across your face as you trace one lightly with your index finger. “Looks like there was a fight,” you murmur quietly to Namjoon, who’s standing just behind you with a rather large rock that he must have just picked up from outside. Yoongi takes up the rear with a hammer grasped tightly in his hand, and you bite back the Thor joke that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here anymore, though,” Jungkook says, winding his way farther into the lobby. “Think these elevators still work?” he asks, gesturing at the twin metal doors on the far wall.

“Not worth the risk,” Namjoon decides, walking over to the stairwell and opening the door. He peers inside before gesturing for you to enter, allowing everyone to step past him before quietly shutting the door and eyeing the two sets of stairs branching out from the landing. “We’re looking for the station’s armory,” he whispers. “What do you guys think? Up or down?”

“We could split u—” Jungkook begins to suggest, but you cut him off before he can even finish the sentence.

“And get killed off one by one like in every horror movie ever? Are you serious, Jeon?”

Jungkook blinks. “Fine. What do you think, then?”

“I think the parking garage is probably downstairs,” you muse, peering over the railing to look at the lower landing. “And it doesn’t look like there’s another level below that, so I’d say going up is our best bet.”

A smile curls the corner of Namjoon’s mouth, dimpling one cheek as he follows your lead and glances downstairs. “Nice observation,” he says once he’s straightened up again, laying a hand on your shoulder. The gentle pressure sends a shiver up your spine, a butterfly taking flight in your stomach on fluttering, iridescent wings. It’s all you can do to smile back, thanking him softly as he retracts his hand. Already, you miss the warmth of his palm.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says, effectively ruining the moment as he begins the ascent with his pole at the ready. Yoongi follows, and Namjoon gestures for you to go ahead of him, tucking his rock under one arm.

“It’s not the best weapon,” he says when he catches you looking, a rueful chuckle escaping him.

You grin back. “Better than nothing.”

Up ahead, Jungkook stops on the second floor landing, pressing his ear against the door. “I can’t hear anything,” he grumbles, fumbling for the doorknob and cracking the door open. “But it looks like the coast is cle— oh, shit!” Jungkook pulls the door shut again, his eyes wide.

“What happened?” Yoongi hisses. “What did you see?”

“There’s a bunch of them in the corner,” Jungkook whispers. “They’re… eating something.”

“Someone,” Yoongi corrects wryly, earning himself an elbow in the ribs courtesy of Namjoon. “Sorry,” he mutters, not sounding very sorry at all.

“How many are there?” Namjoon asks.

Jungkook pauses, casting his gaze upward as he does a mental tally. “At least seven or eight that I saw. There could be more though.”

“Did you see anything that could’ve been an armory? Some place where weapons would be stored?” Namjoon presses.

“Nah. Looked like a bunch of desks, mostly. Offices and whatnot.”

Namjoon nods slowly, tapping his chin. “Okay,” he says after a few seconds of deliberation. “Let’s keep going.” He takes the lead this time, stepping past Jungkook to the next staircase, and you follow after him, struggling to keep up when he elects to take the steps two at a time. His long legs span the increased distance with ease, and it takes every ounce of self-control you possess to refrain from staring at his flexing thigh muscles.

One flight of stairs and several instances of shameless ogling later, you find yourselves on the third floor, tiptoeing through a darkened hallway lined with doors and peering inside one by one.

“These all look like interrogation rooms,” Yoongi grumbles after a few fruitless minutes.

“Nope, this one’s a closet,” Jungkook pipes up, walking inside and exiting with a mop. The door slams shut behind him, and he winces under the absolutely withering glare Namjoon shoots at him. “My bad,” he whispers, offering the taller man the mop. “But on the bright side, I think this might be a better weapon than a rock.”

Namjoon sighs and accepts the mop. “Fine. Let’s make the rest of this search quick though. And be quiet,” he adds, with a pointed look at Jungkook. “We might be close to where the weapons are kept now, since we’ve left the administrative areas behind.”

And as it turns out, he’s right. The very next door you open is a room with a multitude of industrial shelves and racks lining the walls. Much to your disappointment, most of them are empty, but a more thorough search turns up a couple of handguns along with several cases of ammunition. Jungkook finds a stockpile of smoke grenades that he refuses to part with, and you roll your eyes as he shoves them into his pockets. “What the hell are smoke grenades going to do against zombies?”

“You never know,” Jungkook retorts. “Besides, I don’t see anything else in here. Do you?”

Dejected, you shake your head. “No, I don’t. Guess Namjoon was right—someone had the same idea as us.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Namjoon says, picking up one of the guns and peering closely at it. “Who here knows how to handle a firearm?”

Yoongi grunts. “My uncle used to take us hunting on camping trips. I’m not a great shot, but I’m all right.”

Namjoon glances over at you Jungkook. “What about you guys? No?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Do shooting games count?”

“No.”

“Okay, then no.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the other gun to Yoongi, who accepts it and checks the safety before tucking it safely into his belt. You watch as Namjoon checks his own gun, unloading the magazine and inserting a new one. “I take it you know a thing or two about guns,” you remark, inching closer to him as he engages the safety with deft fingers.

“My grandfather was a cop,” he replies softly. “He taught me a lot before he passed away.”

You bite your lip as his brow furrows, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs, his gaze sliding up to meet yours. “It’s alright. It happened years ago.” Then he glances down at your hand, his expression softening just the tiniest bit. “But I appreciate it. Thanks.”

The next few minutes pass in silence as the four of you complete your sweep of the room, peering at the bottommost shelves for any equipment you might have missed. “Hey,” Yoongi says suddenly, his voice hushed. “Hand me your bat, {Name}.”

Both you and Namjoon turn to face him. “Why?” you ask curiously, handing it over and watching as he lays it on the table and pulls his hammer from his waistband.

“Nails,” he says shortly. “Found some in that drawer and figured I’d make you a proper apocalypse weapon.”

“Wait,” Namjoon interrupts, striding over as Yoongi begins hammering nails into your wooden bat. “You’re making too much noise. Someone’s going to hear us.”

“Uh, it’s kinda already too late for that,” Jungkook hisses from the entrance. He’s peering through a little square window that sits about two-thirds of the way up the door, and flinches when a bloody, pale fist slams against it, splintering the glass. “We’ve got company, guys,” he grunts, pressing his full weight against the door and wincing as the glass shatters over his head. “Anyone got any bright ideas to get us out of here in one piece?”

“No,” Namjoon says slowly. “Unless…”

“Unless?” you press.

“We need a diversion,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t see how we’ll create one unless… well, unless one of us goes out there and leads them away from here. But that’s asking way too much, and—“

“I’ll do it.”

All three of you whirl around to face Yoongi, who looks thoroughly unfazed by the sudden scrutiny, picking idly at a frayed corner on his jacket. “You can’t be serious,” Namjoon says, finding his voice first. “It’s dangerous.”

“So is staying here,” Yoongi replies. “Besides, aren’t you always going on about the greater good? Altruism and Comte and all that shit? Let me do this, man. I can handle it.”

“That’s not—” Namjoon stops, rubbing the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. “That’s not the point. It’s just not practical, Yoongi. You’ll be vulnerable if you’re alone.”

“No, I’ll be fast,” Yoongi corrects, pulling out his gun and clicking off the safety. “You think we’ll do any better as groups of two? I don’t.”

“But—“ Namjoon tries again, his brow creasing, but Yoongi shakes his head and strides to the door.

“I’m gonna go left,” he says, his hand on the handle. “We came from the right, so you guys should be able to retrace our steps and get out.”

Jungkook stops him before he can exit, pressing a handful of smoke grenades into his palm. “Hang on,” he says, his throat tight. “You might need these.”

Yoongi pockets them, nodding. “Thanks, man.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue some more, but finally bites his lip and nods, his face resolute. “Good luck,” he says after a long, heavy pause. “Stay safe.”

Yoongi flashes you all a crooked grin. “See you soon.”

And then he’s flinging open the door, swinging his hammer into one zombie’s skull and kicking another in the knees. Namjoon stays in the doorway, shooting any and every zombie that he can see through the smashed window. You can just barely hear Yoongi jeering insults over the sound of gunfire and stumbling footsteps, the occasional thud of something heavy against the linoleum floor letting you know that Namjoon has successfully found his mark.

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally pulls back from the window and turns back to you and Jungkook. “Coast is clear,” he whispers. “Let’s go.”

“And Yoongi?” you ask, anxiety roiling in your gut at the thought of the blond man facing the horde of undead alone.

“He’ll be fine,” Namjoon says automatically, and you know he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s reassuring you. His grip is tight on his gun as he wrenches open the door and ushers the two of you out into the hallway, and even in the dimness you see the worried glance he shoots over his shoulder, lingering on the corner that Yoongi has disappeared around.

“Come on, Joon,” you murmur, nudging his arm gently. “Yoongi’s gonna beat us back to the car at the rate we’re going.”

That draws a soft chuckle from your companion. “You’re right,” he murmurs back. “Let’s go.”

///

As it turns out, however, Yoongi does not beat you back to the SUV. The blond-haired man is nowhere to be found, and you see concern etch itself permanently onto Namjoon’s forehead as he peers around the eerily quiet street. The air feels too still, and every crunch of gravel from underneath your sneakers sounds like a gunshot.

“He’ll be back, right?” Jungkook whispers urgently to you while Namjoon is out of earshot, his doe eyes wide and beseeching. “You don’t think he got…”

He trails off, and you shake your head, unwilling to even think of the possibility that harm has befallen the blond-haired man. “Yoongi’s tough,” you declare. “He’ll be back any minute, and we should be ready to take off when he does. In case, you know, he’s still being chased.”

“Right,” Jungkook says, glancing over at Namjoon, who’s standing closest to the driver’s side and is suddenly beginning to look very sheepish.

“So… I can’t actually drive,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as your jaw drops.

“Wait, you can’t drive? Don’t you live off-campus? How do you get to class?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I usually bike. Sometimes I walk to class, if the weather’s nice.” Then he pauses, dejection settling on his features. “Although I guess I won’t be teaching classes again any time soon.”

Your heart sinks. You know from the syllabus that he handed out on the first day that this was his first semester as a teaching assistant, his passion for philosophy shining through in every lecture he’s given. “You’re a great teacher,” you tell him, intent on cheering him up. “I learned so much from you. I mean, nobody likes moral philosophy, but you somehow managed to even make that interesting, which is pretty damn incredible.”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “Thanks. You were a pretty damn incredible student, yourself.”

“Why, thank you,” you tell him with a grin.

Beside you, Jungkook rolls his eyes and pretends to retch. “Fine, I guess I’ll drive.” Grumbling, he swings open the driver’s side door and plops down onto the seat, adjusting it for his longer legs. “Now how the hell do I start this thing?”

Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly and tears his gaze away from yours, reaching underneath the steering wheel and pulling out a tangle of wires. You stop listening as he explains to Jungkook how to spark them together and instead turn your gaze back to the looming police station, watching intently for any sign of Yoongi’s return. Crumpled newspapers and stray plastic bags roll by, buoyed by the spring breeze. Across the street, a lone pigeon roams, head bobbing as it searches for crumbs.

“Looking for me?”

You jump, letting out a surprised shriek as Yoongi’s blond head of hair suddenly pops out from behind the trunk. “Jesus Christ, Yoongi, what the hell? Where did you come from?”

“Originally? My mother’s womb,” he replies, shrugging. The movement draws your attention to the sleeves of his jacket, newly tattered and splattered with crimson, and any witty retort you might have had is immediately swallowed up by concern.

“Is that blood? Oh my god, is that your blood?”

Your shout alerts Namjoon and Jungkook, twin looks of concern marring their faces as they clamber out of the SUV and join the two of you. “No, no—I’m not hurt,” Yoongi reassures, dismissing your worries with a wave of his hand. “Things did get a little dicey, but it all worked out in the end.”

“How exactly did you escape?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi grins crookedly. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Jungkook blinks. “What?”

“If I couldn’t beat them, I had to join them,” Yoongi elaborates, gesturing to his tattered, dirty clothing. “I stumbled across the evidence room while I was trying to find another way out, and got an idea. This—” he gestures at the red stains splattered across his clothing, “—is actually spray paint. The police must’ve confiscated it from graffiti artists or something. Then all I had to do was rip up my jacket and limp a little and, well, here we are.”

“And that worked?” you ask in disbelief. “You just… pretended to be a zombie and walked out?”

“More or less,” Yoongi says with another shrug. “Now come on, let’s blow this joint. They could find us any second, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t really wanna die just yet. Pretending was enough.”

You have about a million more questions, but Yoongi takes his spot in the driver’s seat before you can ask any of them, readjusting the seat and promising an inquisitive Jungkook that he’ll teach him how to drive the hotwired vehicle next time. The rest of you take your seats as the engine roars to life underneath the blond man’s skilled fingertips, and with a squeal of tires against asphalt, you are off once again, heading toward the great unknown.

///

“Wait, wait, no, stop!”

Yoongi slams on the brakes at Jungkook’s shout, the car skidding to an abrupt halt. “What is it?” he demands, his gaze darting around frantically as his fingers reach for his gun. “Is there a problem?”

Jungkook winces. “Sorry. I was talking to Namjoon, actually.”

Yoongi visibly relaxes, shaking his head as he resumes driving. Namjoon glances back at Jungkook, his eyebrows disappearing behind his dark hair in silent inquiry. “Yes?”

“The radio,” Jungkook says, gesturing at the dashboard buttons that Namjoon has been fiddling with incessantly for the last several minutes. “Go back to the last station for a sec.”

Obediently, Namjoon turns the dial. Staticky white noise fills the air, and Jungkook frowns. Then a few jumbled words filter through the static, and he lets out a triumphant shout. “There!”

“Huh,” Namjoon says, leaning closer to the speaker. “I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. We must be out of range.”

“But we must be getting closer—I think I can make out a few words,” Jungkook says. “Everyone shut up and let me listen…” He trails off, and for a few moments, there is only the sound of garbled static and the low whir of the tires against pavement. Then Jungkook flops back against the seat, a pensive frown settling on his face. “Huh.”

You nudge his shoulder. “Well? What did you hear?”

“Not a whole lot,” he admits. “And I can’t be sure that what I heard was right, but… I think the broadcast is coming from Sonyeo City.”

Namjoon purses his lips, his chin jutting out in the way it does whenever he’s deep in thought. “Sonyeo City… that’s about six hours away, isn’t it?”

Yoongi hums. “Yeah, just about.”

“Do you think…” you trail off, hesitant. “Do you think that this means Sonyeo City’s… safe?”

“There’s no way to be sure.” Namjoon casts his gaze out the window, and you get the feeling he’s looking far beyond the crumbling streets and dark buildings, to the horizon where there still may be a glimmer of hope. “But at least we now have a destination in mind.”

The rest of the ride is quiet. Namjoon keeps the radio on just in case another snippet of discernible audio comes through, but none of you manage to catch anything important. Yoongi stops at a gas station to refuel, and a few minutes after that, finally manages to find a grocery store that looks to be mostly intact and devoid of any immediate threats.

“Let’s get this bread,” Jungkook proclaims as he slides out of the backseat, walking toward the entrance of the store. “And by bread, I mean Twinkies.”

You gape at his retreating back. “Is that a Zombieland reference?”

“Maybe,” he replies, shooting you a playful grin over his shoulder.

Shaking your head, you follow him through the automatic doors and glance around the interior of the store. Row after row of shelves take up the majority of the room, with an open space on the far right for fresh produce and glass-paneled refrigerators lining the wall. Behind you, the doors slide open again with a whoosh, and you turn to meet Namjoon’s eyes as he steps inside with Yoongi. “We should lock the doors,” you point out.

“You’re right,” Namjoon agrees, inspecting the metal frame surrounding the glass.

“Hang on,” Jungkook interrupts, eyes wide as he watches Namjoon fumble with the mechanism. “Are you locking us in?”

“For the time being,” Namjoon says absentmindedly, still focused on the door.

You walk over to Jungkook and pat his cheek. “He’s not locking us in; he’s locking them out. Or would you rather have a horde of zombies stumble in while we’re grabbing supplies?”

“... fair point.”

“Exactly.”

Yoongi, meanwhile, is gazing around the store, leery as always. “Hello?” he calls, his voice cutting through the silence. “Anyone home?”

Not even two seconds later, a shambling, shuffling figure emerges from a far aisle, moving surprisingly quickly despite its odd, lopsided gait. Two more follow, and Yoongi raises his gun, clicking off the safety and narrowing his eyes.

Toward the other end of the store, you spot another zombie dragging itself along the floor, leaving a trail of streaky, bloody handprints in its wake. Three more shuffle out from behind a display of watermelons, heading toward you, and you tighten your grip on your nail-studded bat as they draw ever closer.

Shots ring out behind you, but you don’t chance a glance backward. Out of your peripheral vision you spot Jungkook on your left, bringing his metal pole down onto the crawling zombie’s head with a sickening crunch. Leaping into action, you swing at the closest zombie’s head. It was once a woman, you notice—long stringy hair falling around her decaying face, the bottom half of her jaw visible through the peeling skin. “Sorry about this,” you say, wincing as your bat makes impact. The nails catch in her skin, her neck cracking under the force of the blow, and you yelp as she falls over and the other two zombies take her place.

“Watch out!”

Namjoon’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you, and you instinctively duck as he sprints over and shoots one point blank. Jungkook takes out the other, driving the pole through its chest before pulling it out and smashing it over the zombie’s head. “Are there more?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

“Not sure,” Yoongi says, rejoining you. “I would think most of the lurkers were drawn out by all the noise.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Namjoon says. Walking over to a checkout lane, he grabs a pile of plastic bags and an abandoned cart. “Let’s stay together and take the aisles one at a time. We’ll take as much as we can carry.”

“Don’t forget bottled water,” you pipe up, pointing at the stack of water bottles piled next to the door. “We’ve already drank most of what we have. And if we’re getting canned food, we’ll need a can opener too.”

Namjoon follows the direction of your finger. “Good call.”

“I’ll get it,” Jungkook volunteers, jogging over to select a twenty-four pack of bottles and heaving it into the cart. “Now what?”

“Let’s grab the can opener first,” you say. “Maybe some other utensils too. Sound good?”

Namjoon nods. “Sounds great,” he says, handing you one of the bags. Jungkook and Yoongi accept the other bags that Namjoon doles out, and together the four of you head farther into the store, scanning the signs until you come across the one labeled household goods. It’s clear that others have been here before you, but a quick raid of the shelves yields two can openers and a set of silverware, all of which you deposit into your bag. Namjoon grabs four unbroken bowls, mismatched and in varying sizes, and you hold out your bag for him to drop them inside.

Next up is the canned food aisle, where you stock up on various vegetables and far more beans than you care to think about. Jungkook grabs a box of instant coffee, and Yoongi disappears for a few seconds and returns with a massive jar of vitamin supplements. “Gotta stay healthy,” he says in response to your raised eyebrows, adding it to the growing pile in Namjoon’s cart.

“Speaking of healthy, we should grab some produce,” you say. “It won’t stay good forever, but we can at least get some apples and oranges. And we should probably grab some stuff for dinner too. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

As if on cue, Namjoon’s stomach rumbles. “Dinner would be nice,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Let’s finish up here and then eat in the car. We probably don’t want to stick around here for much longer than we have to.”

After some discussion, the four of you decide on sandwiches for dinner and set about gathering the necessary ingredients. Yoongi wanders to the deli area to pick out a selection of meats that haven’t yet spoiled, and even manages to locate some cheese. You peruse the produce, selecting a head of lettuce and several ripe tomatoes while Namjoon fills a bag with apples and grabs a bunch of bananas. Jungkook raids the bread display, shoving two whole loaves and a box of dinner rolls into his bag. Several bags of chips and a pack of juice boxes later, you are ready to go, heading back out into the parking lot where the SUV is parked.

“Wait!” Jungkook suddenly yelps, stopping dead in the middle of loading the trunk. “I forgot my Twinkies!”

“Are you serious right now, Jeon?” you hiss, watching in disbelief as he hurriedly drops his bags and turns back toward the entrance.

“Yes,” he says stubbornly, already beginning to jog away.

Yoongi groans and flops down into the driver’s seat. “Sartre was right,” he grumbles under his breath. “Hell is other people.”

Namjoon gives him an astonished look, mouth already open and ready to question what exactly his friend knew about the French existentialist philosopher, but quickly snaps back to the issue at hand when you abandon your own bags and dart after Jungkook. Immediately, Namjoon follows, nearly tripping in his efforts to keep up with you, and you whirl in concern when he lets out a sudden, startled shout. “What is it?”

Namjoon grimaces, brushing a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Sorry, it’s just—holy shit!”

A skeletal, gaunt hand is grasping at Namjoon’s ankle, and you gasp when you realize that it belongs to the female zombie from before, her milky eyes gazing unseeingly out from beneath stringy hair. Cursing, Namjoon shakes her off and fumbles for his gun. Pointing it down, he aims and pulls the trigger.

Click.

“I’m out of bullets,” he whispers in dawning horror.

You reach for your trusty bat, tucked away in its sling on your back, but the handle keeps evading your grasping fingers, the nails catching in the fabric. Your palms begin to sweat as Namjoon kicks at the zombie, stomping on her arm and cracking all the bones. He’s glancing around frantically for something he can use as a weapon, but to no avail. And all the while, the undead woman continues her dogged pursuit, crawling after him with one good arm like a lopsided cockroach, teeth gnashing furiously in anticipation of her next meal.

“NOT TODAY, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Jungkook barges onto the scene with his metal pole in hand, glinting dull silver in the flickering fluorescent lights. He smashes the zombie over the head once, twice, three times before relenting, his chest heaving with exertion. Namjoon sucks in a deep breath when she finally falls limp, reaching out to clap Jungkook on the back. “Wow,” he says shakily. “Thanks, man. That was a close call.”

Jungkook straightens up and hefts his weapon over his shoulder. “And that’s why we have rule number two here in Zombieland,” he says proudly.

Namjoon asks the question before you even have a chance to stop him. “What’s rule two?”

Jungkook grins a grin so wide, you’re surprised his mouth doesn’t fall off altogether. “The Double Tap, of course.” Then his gaze flickers downward, to where a familiar blue-and-white box lies crumpled against the linoleum. “Oh, no. My Twinkies!”

You sigh.

///

Dinner—if it can even be called that—is a quick affair, eaten while huddled in the SUV and parked in an alley. The sun is setting rapidly, dipping beyond the horizon and bathing the surrounding buildings in a fiery orange glow. It’s been mercifully quiet for the past half hour, broken only by the occasional crunch of a chip or a slurp from a juice box.

Yoongi starts driving again after he’s polished off the last of his sandwich. Dusky twilight cloaks the city in purple—turning it into something strange and unfamiliar. Normally, the streets would be aglow with lit lamps and illuminated homes, crowded with people returning home after a long day of work or classes. Now, though, the streets are silent and abandoned. The few zombified citizens you pass are quickly left behind, and you know you aren’t imagining the melancholy air that’s settled over your companions, nestling deep into the nooks and crannies of the SUV, stagnant and unshakable. It grows stronger the farther Yoongi drives, the buildings getting shorter and the space between them growing longer, and your heart breaks a little in your chest when you turn for one last look at the city you’ve all come to call home.

You can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you know you won’t ever be coming back.

Namjoon begins fiddling with the radio dials again as Yoongi turns onto the highway, a burst of static breaking the stifling silence in the car. Jungkook startles slightly at the sharp sound, looking up from where he’d been staring out the window. “Is that the station from before?”

Namjoon hums in affirmation, adjusting the volume until the white noise is just a low buzz. Jungkook settles back into his seat, but you can see that he’s listening carefully, his knee bouncing in anticipation.

And then, without any warning whatsoever, a voice comes through the static, clear as day.

Testing, one, two. Is anybody out there?

If you’ve still got a functioning brain and at least one ear, congratulations! another voice chimes in, brighter than the first. You’re listening to 2J! Straight out of Sonyeo City, we’re your premier source of zombie news—

—your only source, really—

—and we’re here to bring you all the latest so that you can stay safe out there, the second voice continues as if there was no interruption at all.

Unfortunately, the first voice says, adopting a more somber tone now, there isn’t a lot of good news. We’re still in the dark about how this epidemic started. Reports claim that it began in a city in the south, which multiple sources have confirmed, but the government has yet to put out an official statement regarding the situation.

They’re being pretty dodgy about the whole thing, to be honest, the second voice continues. The first emergency alert said it was a mutated virus, but the second claimed it was a contaminated water reservoir. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some super-secret experiment gone wrong, Jin.

Honestly, me neither, the man named Jin says. But that’s enough of the conspiracies for now, Jay. Let’s talk survival! First thing you’ll want to do, dear listeners, is head north toward Sonyeo City, where a quarantine zone has been set up.

Jungkook releases a long, pent-up breath. “We were right,” he whispers. “Thank god.”

Namjoon flashes him a little smile and cranks up the volume, listening carefully as Jin’s voice fills the car.

Your best bet is to drive, of course, hop in your car and get going. Stock up on gas and non-perishable food, and some weapons certainly wouldn’t hurt either.

If worst comes to worst and you have to kill a zombie, the best way to do it is to smash its head in, Jay pipes up. You can also break their kneecaps to slow them down, but that won’t kill them for good. They’ll keep coming as long as they can still move—and if they bite you, you’re a goner.

Now onto ways to avoid zombies! Jin says, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. One thing I’ve noticed during my research is how quickly their optic nerves deteriorate once they’re infected. In fact, the rate of deterioration is second only to that of their vocal chords!

And now tell them what that means in plain English, Jay prods, laughing.

Jin chortles. Basically, they have shit eyesight, especially in the dark, he clarifies. If it’s nighttime and you find yourself surrounded somehow, your best bet is to stay quiet and move slowly. If they hear you, well…

You’re a goner, Jay supplies helpfully.

Exactly. Thanks, Jay.

No problem, Jin.

And that brings us to the end of this broadcast, Jin says, clapping his hands. Thanks for tuning in today, and we’ll see you next time.

Until then, this has been 2J. Stay safe out there!

There’s a dull click, and then the static resumes, filling the silence left in the wake of the broadcast. “Well, at least we’re headed in the right direction,” Yoongi says after a few long moments. “It’s a long drive though, and I don’t think I can stay awake for much longer. We might want to start looking for a place to sleep for the night.”

“That’s a good idea,” Namjoon says. “I’m pretty sure we’ve all been running on pure adrenaline up to this point, so we definitely need some rest. We’ll start fresh tomorrow morning.”

Mumbles of agreement all around. Ten minutes later, Jungkook points to a quaint little farmhouse on the right side of the road, the windows dark. “Think anyone’s home?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Yoongi replies, slowly pulling off the road and into the winding driveway, watching for any movement from the house or the surrounding fields. The hum of the engine doesn’t draw any unwanted attention, and you breathe a tentative sigh of relief as he parks the car beneath a large oak tree. Together, the four of you pile out and approach the house, weapons at the ready.

“Should we knock?” you whisper, looking at the little brass knocker in the middle of the front door. “Ring the doorbell, maybe?”

“Can’t hurt, right?” Jungkook jabs his thumb into the button by the doorknob, listening intently as the bell chimes inside the house. After a few beats of silence, he shrugs. “Guess no one’s home.”

“And the door’s locked,” Yoongi says, trying the knob. “Maybe they’re away on vacation or something.” Wandering over to a nearby window, he jimmies the frame, a wry grin crossing his features when it pops open easily. “They should probably invest in better locks, though.”

One by one, you climb through the window. Namjoon is the last one inside, folding his tall frame through the small space, and as soon as both his feet touch carpet, Yoongi shuts the window again and closes the curtains. “Don’t wanna be seen from the street,” he explains as he pulls out his cell phone and taps the flashlight button, illuminating the room in harsh white light. Namjoon does the same, as does Jungkook, and you pull your own phone out as well—now fully charged from the long car ride. A quick sweep of the house reveals that it is indeed empty, and Jungkook whoops when his flashlight falls upon a rifle mounted over the fireplace. Further investigation reveals two more pistols in a cabinet, along with ample ammunition, and Yoongi grins as he loads all three guns and hands one over to you.

“You ever shot one of these before?”

The gun is heavy in your palm. Slowly, you shake your head.

Yoongi glances over at Namjoon slyly. “Why don’t you give her a lesson out back, then?”

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s ears flush pink, his feet scuffing nervously against the carpeted floor before he chances a look at you. The smile that he offers you is warm but hesitant, and when he speaks, his voice is even more so. “Sure,” he says. “I can show you how, if you’d like.”

“I’d really like that,” you tell him, the butterflies erupting in your chest when his smile widens. Together, the two of you head toward the back of the house, taking a detour to the kitchen where Namjoon grabs an armful of empty soda cans. His shoulder brushes against yours as you walk, but neither of you pull away. Even as you step onto the wooden patio that leads into the rest of the yard, you remain side by side, admiring the full moon that hangs bright in the sky, providing just enough illumination to view your surroundings.

“I suppose we should start with the basics,” Namjoon begins, his gaze alighting on a low fence lining the property. Jogging over, he lines the cans up on the wooden beam before returning to your side and gesturing for you to raise the pistol. His fingers skim across yours as he shows you how to disengage the safety, and your heart skips a beat when he explains how to reload once you run out of bullets, his large hands guiding yours through each step.

There’s a damp chill in the evening air, but you don’t even feel it. Namjoon is so close by this point, his chest pressed almost flush against your back as he shows you how to aim. His fingers wrap around your wrist, warm and gentle, and you shiver when he speaks again, his mouth at your ear, his voice rumbling through his chest.

“Ready?”

You nod, almost afraid to breathe as your finger finds the trigger. Namjoon’s grip on your wrist loosens but doesn’t disappear entirely, and you steel yourself for the recoil as you finally pull the trigger. The loud crack has you wincing, but Namjoon is laughing, the sound deep and husky as he urges you to lower the gun.

“Nice shot.”

You turn to look at the fence, now missing one soda can. “Oh, wow,” you breathe. “That was… kind of therapeutic, actually. Can we try again?”

Namjoon grins. “Of course we can.”

///

Ten cans and a box of ammunition later, you and Namjoon find yourselves lounging on the steps of the patio, staring up at the velvety night sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars before,” you murmur, a little awestruck by the sight. “But now that we’re away from the city and all that light pollution… wow. It’s amazing.”

“It’s beautiful,” Namjoon agrees, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before he collects himself and looks up at the sky once more.

“I wish I knew more constellations,” you say, laughing softly. “I can really only pick out the Big Dipper. And even then, I can only find it about eighty percent of the time.”

“What about the Little Dipper?” Namjoon asks. He scoots a little closer to you, pointing upward. “Do you see that really bright star up above the Big Dipper? That’s Polaris—the north star. It’s the end of the handle.”

You follow the trajectory of his finger curiously, eyes widening when you spot the smaller, but still distinctive, spoon shape. “Oh! Yes, I see it now. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before.”

Namjoon chuckles. “I can show you where Orion is too,” he says. “That’s as far as my knowledge of constellations goes, though.”

“You know more than I do,” you reply, smiling up at him. Softly, you lay a hand on his arm. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, cheeks dimpling as he gazes down at you. This close, you can see all the stars reflected in his irises, his skin glowing silver under the luminescence of the full moon. And in a sudden surge of boldness, you allow your hand to slide down until it’s laying atop his, your fingers settling in the spaces between his own.

Namjoon glances down at your intertwined hands, his lips twitching with a barely restrained smile. “You know,” he murmurs, his breath visible in the chilly air, “I’ve always kind of liked you.”

You blink at the admission. “Really?”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, his chest rumbling with the sound. “It’s crazy, right? But it’s true. Ever since you sat down in the front row on the first day of my class with a bright pink pen and no laptop… do you know how rare it is to see someone take handwritten notes in this day and age?”

Your cheeks heat up. “You noticed that?”

“I did,” he replies, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together properly. “Do you remember that essay the professor assigned? It must have been the second or third assignment—the one about moral responsibility in modern society?” At your nod, he smiles and continues. “Yours was the best one I read, hands down.”

“Yeah, he talked about it for three days straight,” a new voice says. Whirling around, you see Yoongi’s head poking out the back door, smirking like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. It was annoying as hell.”

Namjoon groans. “Seriously, Yoongi?”

The blond man puts his hands up innocently. “Just stopping by to make sure you guys weren’t dead,” he says before letting the door shut again, chortling to himself.

Namjoon sighs and turns back to you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t have much of a filter.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand. “Don’t worry about it. He’s gone now, so I can finally do this.”

Namjoon tilts his head curiously. “Do wha—?” he begins to say, only to be cut off by your mouth on his. The kiss is soft and slow, your lips moving lazily against his, and by the time you pull away, both of you are breathing much more heavily. Namjoon’s hands find their way around your waist, tugging you close, and you nestle deeper into the warmth of his embrace, enjoying how it wards off the chill in the air.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you know,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He chuckles and chases after your mouth, his nose bumping affectionately against yours. “Yeah. Me too.”

///

You wake up the next morning to golden sunlight streaming in through the window and an arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Namjoon hasn’t opened his eyes yet, his hair sticking every which way, but his grip on you tightens when he feels you begin to stir. “Good morning,” he mumbles, finally cracking an eye open and smiling down at you.

“Good morning,” you whisper back. You’re positive that you look like an absolute mess—hair in disarray, face crusty from sleep, body desperately in need of a shower—and yet Namjoon is staring at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, dimples dotting his cheeks as he reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. You reciprocate with a kiss to his palm, and he grins. Grabbing your chin, he tilts your face up so he can kiss you properly—his lips soft and gentle against yours. It almost feels like an ordinary morning, and for a few moments, you can pretend that there isn’t a monstrous epidemic running rampant through large swathes of the country. For a few moments, you’re just a girl and a boy, basking in the idyllic haze of each other’s presence.

But then there’s a knock on the door, followed by Yoongi’s low drawl. “Get dressed and come eat, lovebirds. Sooner we get on the road, the better.”

You break apart from Namjoon, giggling when you see the dopey grin stretched across his face. “Why are you looking at me like that, you weirdo?”

His grin only widens, his arms looping around your waist. “It’s just funny,” he says. “Waking up with you, Yoongi yelling at us—this is the first ordinary morning I’ve had in a long time. And I’ve missed it. I’ve missed it a lot.”

“So have I,” you murmur, burying your face into the warm cotton of his t-shirt and allowing yourself one more moment of normalcy before getting out of bed. Walking into the bathroom, you are pleased to discover that the water is still running, and Namjoon even manages to unearth some unused toothbrushes and toothpaste from underneath the sink. The bristles are a little too stiff for your liking and the water has a metallic tinge that refuses to dissipate, but being able to brush your teeth makes a world of difference. There’s a noticeable bounce in your step as you make your way downstairs with Namjoon, and Yoongi and Jungkook pick up on it right away.

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” Yoongi says without looking up from his bowl of dry cereal. “The sex was that good, huh?”

“W-we didn’t…” Namjoon stammers, his cheeks flushing. “That’s not what we—”

You squeeze his hand, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Let them think what they want,” you advise. “They’re just jealous of your dick game, anyway.”

“Ew,” Jungkook grumbles, throwing an apple at you. “Way too much information, {Name}.”

You shrug, just barely managing to catch the piece of fruit. “You guys brought it up first. Not my fault.”

The remainder of breakfast passes quickly. Yoongi and Jungkook head outside to start loading the car while you and Namjoon scour the house one last time for anything that might be useful, and within the hour, you are back on the road toward Sonyeo City.

“You know, this Jin character sounds like a piece of work,” Yoongi grumbles from the passenger seat for what feels like the millionth time. Jungkook is driving today, which leaves you and Namjoon in the backseat with the eclectic collection of food and weapons you’ve amassed. The four of you are listening to the 2J broadcast again, and after a rather lengthy discussion of zombie evasion techniques, Jin has lapsed into telling the worst dad jokes you’ve ever heard.

What does a vegetarian zombie eat? Graaains!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Yoongi groans.

Morning turns into midday, the sun high in the sky. The road winds on, through green cornfields and grassy plains and the occasional small town. Several times, you spot a zombie or two shambling around aimlessly through the windows, but they’re quickly forgotten as Jungkook slams on the gas pedal. You get the feeling that he’s relishing the lack of an enforced speed limit, and taking full advantage of the empty highway.

It’s late afternoon by the time you arrive on the outskirts of Sonyeo City. Off in the distance, you can see taller skyscrapers rising up, gray and hazy against the horizon, but the area you’re in right now seems to be the warehouse district. Low, squat factories sit on either side of the road and a branching network of railroad tracks weaves throughout, but everything is eerily still and deathly quiet. No smoke rises up from the smokestacks, and you’re pretty sure you spot a train that’s been toppled over onto its side before Jungkook hits the gas again and takes you deeper into the city. The buildings get taller the farther you drive, but you still have yet to see any signs of life besides the occasional bobbing pigeon or scurrying rat.

That all changes when the car rounds the next corner. It looks as if a bomb has gone off in one of the largest brick buildings lining the street, covering the entire block in a layer of rubble. Zombified citizens mill around in the debris, and Jungkook slams on the brakes, his eyes wide with panic.

“Dude, just back up and try another street,” Yoongi says when he doesn’t move. “They haven’t noticed us yet.”

“No, that’s not it,” Jungkook says, his voice shaking. “We’re… we’re low on gas. Like, really, really low.”

Yoongi takes another look outside and blanches. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’ll get killed if we try to refuel now!”

“I’ll—I’ll get us as far away as I can,” Jungkook stammers, throwing the vehicle into reverse and beginning to back away from the mayhem. He clears the corner and continues backward for another two blocks before the car slows to a full stop, a groan escaping his lips. “Fuck.”

Glancing out the window, you see four stray zombies stumbling toward you. “Uh, guys? We have a bit of a problem.”

Namjoon curses and begins digging through the stash of weapons at his feet, pulling out several long knives and an axe you’d taken from the farmhouse. “We don’t stand a chance without a car,” he mutters as he pulls out supplies. “Yoongi, grab the gas. I’ll watch your back while you fill up the tank. Jungkook, be ready to drive at a moment’s notice. {Name}...” He grins, handing you the rifle to join the pistol you already have at your side. “You’re on sniper duty. But save it as a last resort, okay? Gunshots will draw even more attention to us, which is the last thing we need right now.”

“Got it,” you say, accepting the box of ammunition he slides over and ignoring the way your heart begins to pound in your chest. “Stay safe out there, okay?”

Namjoon presses a quick kiss to your mouth, ignoring the disgusted sound Jungkook makes. “I will, don’t worry. Be back soon.” And then he’s hopping out of the car, joining Yoongi at the gas tank and scanning the street for any approaching threats. The four zombies at the end of the street are still a block and a half away, but the distance doesn’t make you feel any better as you watch Namjoon and Yoongi standing out in the open, unprotected. Through the open window, you can hear Yoongi cursing, hands shaking as he opens up the gas can.

Bang!

A young man bursts out of an apartment complex just up the street, the door slamming against the brick wall behind it. Even from a block away, you can see the frantic expression on his face as he dashes outside without taking proper stock of his surroundings. Your mouth opens to shout a warning—beside you, you can see Jungkook about to do the same—but it’s already too late. The zombies are upon him before he can even scream, rotting teeth tearing into his flesh and ripping chunks away until he’s reduced to a huddled mass of blood and viscera on the ground, deathly still and silent.

Then, to your absolute disbelief, the man is crawling to his feet again, his stance lopsided and his expression blank. Half of his jaw has been torn away, exposing teeth, and your stomach squirms at the sight of his fresh wounds still oozing crimson.

“Holy shit!” Jungkook screeches, whirling around to face you with wild eyes. “We need to get out of here!”

“I know, dumbass!” you yell back, craning your head back to check on your other two companions only to nearly jump out of your skin when the door flies open in your face.

“It’s me!” Namjoon shouts, sliding into his seat. Up front, Yoongi is already seated, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Drive, Jungkook!”

Jungkook lets loose a colorful string of curses and fumbles to start the engine, eyes skittering between the steering wheel and the approaching zombies. “Come on, come on—”

“WAIT!”

All four of you whirl around, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. A split second later, a young man with fluffy blond hair pops up in your window, followed quickly by another man with longer, dark brown hair. “Please wait!” the blond man entreaties, wincing when you let out a startled yelp and slam a hand against the glass. “Please!”

“Who the fuck are you?” you gasp.

“My name’s Jimin, and this is Taehyung,” he says, glancing over to where the zombies are rapidly approaching. “You have to take us with you!”

Jungkook chooses that moment to butt in. “What the fuck? No way! How do we know you’re not infected?”

“We’re not!” It’s Taehyung who speaks this time, his voice low but no less urgent than Jimin’s. “Please, you have to believe us.”

“How do you expect us to do that?” Yoongi growls. “We don’t know you—you could be trying to kill us, for all we know.”

“Why the hell would we kill you?” Jimin yelps, looking offended by the very idea.

“We’re not zombies, I promise” Taehyung adds, frowning. “No need to be so paranoid.”

“I think a healthy dose of paranoia is a good thing in this situation!” Yoongi snaps.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Namjoon’s pensive expression, his chin jutting out in the way it does when he’s focused. “Joon? You okay?”

His frown deepens. “I think we have to let them in.”

Yoongi balks. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, seriously. Remember what Jin said in that broadcast—about how quickly an infected person’s vocal chords deteriorate? There’s no way they’d be talking if they were infected. Absolutely none.”

Jimin claps. “Exactly! Now can you please unlock the door?”

You look at Namjoon, who nods. Jungkook groans and Yoongi slaps a hand over his eyes, but you nod back and reach over to flip the switch, the door unlocking with an audible click.

“Thank you so much,” Jimin chants as he piles into the backseat in a mess of limbs. “Thank you. Holy shit, thank you.” Taehyung follows after him, slamming the door shut, and you grunt when Jimin scoots over to give him a little more room and nearly elbows you in the face.

“Careful,” Namjoon cautions, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging until you are practically seated in his lap. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung make themselves comfortable, carefully avoiding the bags of supplies on the floor as Jungkook starts the car.

“Thanks again,” Jimin repeats earnestly once he’s settled in. “I know it must’ve been hard sticking your necks out like that, but we really do appreciate it.”

“Why were you even out in the open like that?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at Jimin. “Isn’t there supposed to be a quarantine zone somewhere in this godforsaken city?”

Taehyung nods. “Yeah, it’s in the city center, past the river. We were headed there ourselves, but then the explosion happened.”

“You guys must’ve seen it,” Jimin says. “Few blocks back, rocks and garbage everywhere? We think it was a gas leak, but who knows? It totaled our car, and we’ve been on foot ever since.”

Yoongi looks a little abashed. “Sorry to hear that.”

Jimin shrugs and offers him a crooked grin. “It’s all good. We’re still here now, and we’re still alive. That’s really all that matters.”

///

As it turns out, Jimin is a cadet in the local police academy—something you discover when his jacket falls open to reveal an impressive array of weapons strapped to his belt. Taehyung is an art history student, but between his fondness for paintball and his childhood on a farm, you quickly find that he’s almost just as well-versed in marksmanship as Jimin.

In the last ten minutes, however, Taehyung has fallen oddly silent. A glance over at the brown-haired man reveals that he is staring out the window, lost in thought as buildings rush by. Jimin is still chattering about the academy to a very interested Namjoon, but you don’t miss the occasional furtive glance he gives his friend, his brow creasing briefly in concern before he manages to smooth his expression out again.

Up ahead, you catch a glimpse of the river—a ribbon of blue snaking its way through the city. “There’s a big bend in the river, kind of like a horseshoe, right around the downtown area,” Jimin explains. “I think it was some kind of fortress back in the day, before the rest of the city was built around it. Most of the walls are still standing—historical preservation and whatnot—so the only way to get there is by crossing the bridge or going through the tunnel. And I’m like ninety percent sure they’ve already closed the tunnel down.”

“Bridge it is, then,” Yoongi says. “You know how to get us there?”

“Yeah, you take a left at the next light and then—”

“Can we actually stop here for a minute?”

Everyone glances back at Taehyung, who seems to have finally found his voice again. “Stop?” Namjoon asks, a frown etching its way across his face. “Why?”

Taehyung sucks in a deep breath, his gaze darting over to an unassuming brick building on the corner. “It’s just that… that’s where my little sister lives.”

And in an instant, you understand. You understand why he’s been so quiet this entire time, and why he’s been gazing out the window so wistfully. Jungkook steps on the brake, and the car rolls to a slow stop at the curb. “I get it,” he mutters, his fingers tight around the steering wheel. “I’d… I’d want to check too, if it were my brother.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung smiles weakly, mumbling his thanks, and Jimin takes his hand with a reassuring smile. “Come on, Tae. Let’s go get Eonjin.”

“I’ll come too,” Jungkook volunteers, hopping out of the driver’s seat. “You might need the extra help.”

Yoongi sighs and exits the car as well, glancing back at you and Namjoon. “Guess I should stretch my legs too. You two wanna watch the car?

You nod. “We can do that.”

Yoongi nods back and follows the other three men into the building. You watch as they disappear into its dark depths, letting out a soft sigh.

“Do you think they’ll find her?”

Namjoon hums. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I hope so, for Taehyung’s sake. But I really don’t know if they will.”

You sigh again, shifting into a more comfortable position on his lap and letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. His arms tighten around your waist, and you shiver as his warm breath caresses your neck. “I’m glad my parents are overseas on a cruise right now,” you say softly. “They posted photos just yesterday, so I guess that means that whatever this epidemic is, it isn’t a global thing.”

“You’re lucky,” Namjoon mumbles. “I haven’t heard from my parents yet.”

You stiffen in his embrace. “You… you haven’t? Oh my god, Joon, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to shrug off your concern, but you don’t miss the way his throat bobs harshly as he swallows. “It is what it is,” he says after a few seconds. “I’ve heard from my sister, at least. She says she’ll be making her way here in the next day or two.”

“That’s good,” you murmur. You don’t know what else you could possibly say, and Namjoon, luckily, seems to understand.

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over the two of you, then—each of you lost in your own thoughts. Even though you’re so close to your destination now, it still feels far—as if it’s a mirage that will disappear if you so much as breathe the wrong way. You don’t know what awaits you, and for a moment, you’re terrified of the possibilities. But Namjoon’s arms remain wound around you, his presence warm and reassuring even now, and you think to yourself that maybe—just maybe—everything will be all right.

And then Jimin’s banging on your window again, forcibly pulling you out of your stupor. “Guys! Guys! It’s Tae—he’s been bitten!”

A beat passes. His words take a second to register in your brain—Tae, bitten—almost as if they don’t make sense together. It’s a sentence you never wanted to hear, and your limbs suddenly feel like they’ve been submerged in water, slow and heavy and dragging.

Namjoon, however, is up in an instant. “Where is he now?” he asks, throwing the door open and laying a hand on Jimin’s shoulder as he blabbers on. “Is he bleeding? Is he hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no—” Jimin looks close to tears. “It’s just—it all happened so fast. We were in Eonjin’s apartment but she wasn’t home, and then this guy came out of nowhere and—and…” He trails off, gesturing weakly behind him. “Look for yourselves.”

Yoongi and Jungkook stumble their way out of the building, supporting a pale-looking Taehyung between them. Blood drips down his wrist and onto the sidewalk, and the sight of the bright red liquid shakes off any stupor you might have been under. Delving into the backpack full of supplies from the farmhouse, you pull out the first-aid kit, brandishing it in the air as you jump out of the SUV. “He’s losing way too much blood,” you say, pulling out a roll of bandages and a tube of ointment, handing the rest of the kit over to Namjoon. “We have to stop it.”

“This isn’t exactly a safe spot for medical procedures,” Yoongi points out, gesturing around the street with his free hand. “We’re out in the open, totally exposed.”

“Then we’ll get back in the car,” Namjoon says. “We can drive and patch him up at the same time.”

“But he’s infected,” Jungkook whispers. “What happens when he… y’know. Turns?”

None of you have an answer for that. Jimin’s running his hands frantically through his hair, and you can practically see the desperation swimming in his honey brown eyes. “We can’t just leave him behind,” he murmurs. “We can’t.”

“Then we won’t,” you tell him, stepping up to Taehyung and slathering a generous amount of ointment on the bite wound. Then you pull off a short section of bandage, tying it around his upper arm like a tourniquet. “We’re going to get you in the car now, Tae. Is that okay? Can you still walk?”

Taehyung blinks dazedly, his brown eyes taking a few seconds to focus properly on you. “I… I think so. Hang on. Lemme try.”

Namjoon nearly drops the first-aid kit. “Wait, did you just talk?”

Taehyung blinks again, swaying slightly on his feet. “Yes?”

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Wait, but infected people can’t talk. Their vocal chords…”

“... deteriorate,” Namjoon finishes for you. “Yeah. So then that begs the question: why can Taehyung still talk?”

For the second time in as many minutes, none of you have an answer. “Tae,” you try again. “How do you feel right now?”

Taehyung’s mouth pulls down into a slow frown. “I feel… slow. A little muddled, I guess? No brain eating urges or anything though, which is nice. Brains probably don’t taste very good.”

“No,” you say, exchanging a glance with your equally flabbergasted companions. “I can’t imagine they would.”

///

Not twenty minutes later, you are driving across the bridge that leads to your final destination. A rather formidable wall with an even more formidable gate stands in your way, and you watch as several guards peer out from over the top, weapons drawn and at the ready.

“Stop right there!” the guard stationed on the ground commands, his gun trained on the SUV. “Get out of the vehicle with your hands up and identify yourselves one by one.”

“My name is Kim Namjoon,” Namjoon says, clambering out with his palms extended. You follow after him, stating your name as well, and the guard directs both of you to stand against the wall, calling for a man named Seokjin to come check your vitals as your companions continue introducing themselves.

A minute later, a smaller door to the right of the gate opens, and out walks a man wearing a white coat and a genial smile. “Sorry about this,” he says, adjusting his stethoscope. “Proper procedure and all that. You can never be too careful, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, pulling the collar of your shirt aside so he can listen to your heartbeat. “This is hardly the worst thing to happen to us in the last few days.”

The young doctor laughs—a high, squeaky sound that reminds you of a windshield wiper. “Touché,” he says, waving Namjoon over so he can listen to his heart as well. “Well, look at that! You both appear to be alive—congratulations! It’s nice to meet you.”

His laughter is contagious, and you can’t help the answering giggle that bubbles up in your chest and escapes into the open air. “Nice to meet you too, Doctor.”

He grimaces, flapping a hand at you. “Please, call me Jin. Everyone does. Doctor makes me sound way too stuffy.”

The sound of the familiar name has your eyebrows flying up into your hairline. You exchange a glance with Namjoon, who looks equally shocked, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he ventures, “Jin? Does that mean you’re one half of the 2J radio broadcast?”

Jin’s face splits into a delighted grin. “It sure does! Were you guys listening to us?”

You nod. “It was the only station we could find. I don’t think we’d be here if it weren’t for you and Jay.”

His grin broadens. “His real name’s Hoseok, actually—I had to talk him into the nickname. Took me ages.” Then his expression sobers. “That’s great to hear about the broadcast, though. Really. We weren’t sure that we were reaching people, but it’s nice to know that we definitely are. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him earnestly.

Jin grins. “You’re welcome,” he says, waving goodbye as he moves on to check on everyone else’s vitals. He makes friendly smalltalk with Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin as he listens to their heartbeats, but frowns when he reaches Taehyung, regarding him a little more closely. Jimin looks on anxiously, twisting the hem of his jacket, and you and Namjoon wordlessly sidle closer, ready to defend your friend if the need arose.

“You look a little pale,” Jin says, but his voice isn’t accusatory. “Are you feeling okay?”

Taehyung shrugs vaguely, his eyes unfocused. “I’ve been better.”

Namjoon chooses that moment to step forward, keeping his voice low and guarded. “Jin, you know a lot about the zombies, right?”

Jin nods. “I’ve been conducting research, yeah. It’s slow going though.”

Jimin eyes Jin warily. “What would you say if we told you that one of us was immune to the zombie virus?”

Jin’s mouth falls open, his gaze immediately landing on Taehyung again as he leans closer and stares intently at his pupils. “Immunity? Now that’s interesting,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing his hands together. “That could change everything.”

Taehyung blinks blearily at him. “What are you going on about?”

Jin just laughs. “They’re clear,” he calls to the guard, who nods and returns to the guardhouse. Once he’s gone, Jin claps his hands together and beams. “All right!” he exclaims. “Let’s get you all settled in, shall we?”

“What are you going to do to Tae?” Jimin asks suspiciously, scooting a little closer to his friend.

“Absolutely nothing, if I don’t have his permission,” Jin promises. “But guys, think about it. Someone who’s immune? I could learn so much about what’s causing that immunity if I ran a few tests… maybe even find a cure, eventually. It’s an incredible opportunity.” Upon seeing Jimin’s lingering distrust, however, he stops and laughs again. “But honestly, I won’t do a thing if he doesn’t want me to. Right now, I just want to help you get settled in. All of you need lots of rest and a proper meal. Doctor’s orders, okay?”

Jimin nods. “Fine.”

Up ahead, the gate is slowly beginning to creak open. Jin is welcoming all of you to Sonyeo City, but you barely hear him. Your focus is on Namjoon and Namjoon alone, his presence warm and reassuring as he finds your hand and laces your fingers together. 

“Ready?” he asks.

You suck in a deep, steadying breath and squeeze his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

#namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #kim namjoon #rm #zombie apocalypse au #bts fanfic #kpop scenarios #lia writes

[artistrashofmine]

Ehhh I posted a pwp, KiriBaku fic last night. The one that I posted a little snippet on a month or so back.  Check it out on AO3. Or continue on reading.

Bakugou’s an alpha. His confirmation of that fact came today just like most teenagers in their first or second year of high school.

And Bakugou likes to pride himself on being good at everything he does. Top grades, amazing quirk control, quick thinker, good cook, clean room. But he’s a shitty alpha. A fucking horrible excuse of an alpha.

Because male alpha’s don’t produce slick. Yet here he was, cock hardened and inner thighs coated in the clear substance. An he was an alpha because he had a fucking knot. And people wouldn’t stop reminding him of his stupid scent. He wasn’t complaining, it didn’t matter all that much of what he was, either way, it wouldn’t affect his goal of becoming a hero. Plenty of his classmates were omegas, just as plenty of them were alphas, and plenty of them were betas. It was a pretty even split actually.

Though he doubts many of the alpha’s produced slick . So you could see why he was confused to all hell, waking up in the middle of a rut to find fucking slick running down his legs. That alone was strange enough, it didn’t help that his hole was practically begging for something to enter it.

And it wasn’t like Bakugou hadn’t thought of it in the past. He never went as far as fingering himself, but he thought about it. How it might feel, to have something pounding into him. And maybe that was only because of who he thought of doing it with. And maybe the fact that he was an alpha didn’t matter when it came to becoming a hero, but it did matter when it came to relationships.

Low and behold, the Bakugou Katsuki, talking about the importance of relationships , high school lovers and all that shit as if it were more important than saving lives. As if it mattered in the long run. As if it was even believed that it was Bakugou who was concerning themself with relationships. Bakugou who could hardly admit to having friends.

Bakugou Katsuki who was fucked up, slicked up because the only fucking thing he could think of on this shitty excuse for a rut was an alpha, a strong alpha. Because that’s what he deserved and apparently that’s the only thing his body would settle for - acting as a fleshlight for his powerful alpha. His mind came to the conclusion that no one else was good enough, not some soft omega that other alphas would love, and not a warm body to fuck into - Katsuki wanted to be that body.

Maybe it was his own fault, setting himself up for this kind of shit. But would thoughts alone be enough to warrant a slicked up hole? Thoughts of the stupid alpha’s smile, the sharp teeth as he claimed the blond. of Katsuki’s hands wrapped up in the obnoxious red hair. God, it had Katsuki ready to pop his knot. He wanted to cum all over that body, the fucking ripped body, maybe it’d be hardened, fuck, have the rock hard body under him. Katsuki would be grinding against his face, squeezing it between his thighs - could go as hard as he wanted, wouldn’t have to worry about hurting the idiot.

He squeezed his half-formed knot before giving a tug to his cock, clenching his thighs together, lubed up by the wasted slick. His head thrown back, teeth biting down on his lip to muffle a moan, his hand speeding up, his thrusting up into the heat.

Katsuki came to the thought of the redhead alpha, to Kirishima’s sharp teeth and hungry eyes.    

Yeah, what a shitty alpha he made.

To say he was grumpy two days later was an understatement. He was getting congratulated for fuck’s sake. They could all smell his scent changing earlier, before the rut, and that was bad enough. But now, he reeked of alpha, of post-rut. Everyone knew he was a fucking knot-head. He smelled different and he hated it. He remembered when he first got his quirk, he had gotten so fed up with the sweet scent of his sweat that he had started begging his mom for a bath nearly every hour. Of course he never got that bath, but it was a nightmare. Not only for him, but for those who had to deal with his whiny ass.

At least now he wasn’t a whiny brat anymore, but he knew how to hold a grudge. And in this case, his grudge was with biology. The stupid thing can go fuck its self. Apparently, everyone else thought otherwise. It was a fucking gift that he finally presented, as if he had been reborn or some shit like that. And all Katsuki wanted to do was forget about it. Forget the whole thing happened and go back to when he was blissfully unaware.

“Congrats man!” But no, it was never that easy, “looks like we’re both alphas.”

Yeah, thanks for the reminder Shitty-Hair.

A fucking disaster, that’s what his life was, a fucking disaster.

“You don’t look all that pleased though, what’s going on?” The redhead had his arm slung across the blond as they made their way to school, congratulating him on becoming the exact opposite of what Katsuki had hoped - that’s what was going on.

“Nothing, it’s not a big deal so fuck off with the congratulations shit.” He scowled, eyes averted, not unusual behaviour for the hothead.

“Dude, come on. You might be the oldest in the class, but you're the last to present! It’s a big deal!” Did it matter that much to him?

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched, “not to me it isn’t. I don’t fucking care. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

He met Kirishima’s confused red eyes, “nothing.“

The redhead dropped the conversation from there, moving on to lighter topics, attempting to trick Katsuki into studying with him again for the test that was coming up. It wasn’t really a trick seeing that the blond could see it from a mile away and wasn’t all that opposed to studying with Shark-Teeth, but he let the other live in his oblivious world.

Besides, Katsuki could only imagine what the other would think if he found out the blond’s dirty secret. No more studying, no more walking to class together or the brightly toothed smiles. It’d be over. Katsuki wouldn’t risk that. He felt sick, living in his fantasy of his friend, knowing how much the other would likely look down at him for it and still selfishly soaking up all the attention he offered, but he couldn’t help it. He craved it, craved the other's attention.

So he could never say no when the other asked to hang out, asked to study. In his room. He liked being in Kirishima’s room. It smelled so strong of the alpha, Katsuki couldn’t get enough of it. Plus his instincts were going crazy now that he presented, and not in the aggressive alpha way. Rather than getting rid of the scent, he wanted to bathe in it. Wanted to combine it with his own.

God, something was really fucked up with his hormones, he should probably schedule a doctor's appointment or something. But it was only with Kirishima, the thought of any other alpha in the room, anyone else covered in the redhead’s scent, had Katsuki burning with anger, possessiveness. He got one alpha reaction at least. Usually, those would be towards omega’s though, sometimes beta’s, but never other alphas. This was giving him a headache.  

It made it difficult to concentrate on the other’s questions and work which was stupid because Kiri was the whole reason he was going through this crisis. He wanted to be here, to have the alpha’s attention, to be near him, not to let his mind wander on how fucked up he is.

“No, Bakugou. Seriously dude, are you alright?” Apparently, the one in question had noticed his absent mind as well.

“Yeah, I’m good. What the hell was your question?” But Shitty-Hair didn’t accept that answer, setting his pencil down and turning his body to face the blond.

“I didn’t ask a question, I finished one. Come on man, we’re friends, you know you can talk to me?” Friends, that was the problem. And it’s not like Katsuki could just talk to him, they wouldn’t be friends after that kind of discussion. At least he wouldn’t think so. Still, maybe he could get some insight on something. And it wouldn’t be admitting his big fat crush.

He took a deep breath, “my biology is fucking wack.”

Shitty-Hair raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “I mean what I said. I presented and it was fucking weird. All that alpha shit is messed up.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, a flush coming to his checks, “you mean your knot?!”

Why did he think this was a good idea?

“What- no. Just other signs, just- not only signs that I’m an alpha, but ones that omega’s and shit have.” This had to be the most painful conversation he’ll ever experience, “that’s all, alright? Gonna talk to a doctor or something.”

At least it’ll keep the other off his back. Keep him from further worrying.

Only he should have expected that Kirishima wouldn’t simply drop the topic, “you mean like… slick?”

And god, fucking save him. The idiot hit the mark, assumed all the right things. Goddamnit, “it’s none of your business! Jesus. Now show me your work.”

His tries at deflection went unheard, and his nondescript answer was taken for a yes, “so you slicked up… during a rut.”

No longer could Katsuki prevent the flush threatening to overtake his face, “why does it matter? Let’s just do this stupid math question!”

His volume progressively grew, as if that would prevent the other from his prying, “so like... do you produce slick outside of a rut?”

“What the fuck?” He hadn't thought of that, maybe it was just a first rut type of thing that happened some alpha’s for some fucking weird-ass reason, “how the hell should I know?! I just got out of the damn rut!”

So he finally gave up, admitting to his best friend’s suspicions. And now he would drop the fucking topic, as if it were the most fascinating subject on the planet; whether or not Katsuki slicked up outside of a rut. This was a fucking mess. But it was on Kirishima’s mind. Kirishima was thinking about Katsuki slicking up. And if that wasn’t a turn-on, he didn’t know what was.

“Ah yeah, sorry dude.” He averted his eyes, staring down at the paper, and finally - much to a certain part of Katsuki’s disappointment - it appeared as if he were about to drop the subject and continue on with the math work, yet Kirishima’s sheepish mumbling implied quite the opposite, “did you want to find out?”

The blond’s eyes widened, suddenly he was very aware of his growing arousal and the tension between the two of them. Was this Shitty-Hair’s way of confessing? Was he offering to help the blond slick up ? Or was he just being stupid and legitimately curious? No, he couldn’t have been that much of an idiot, he had to know how he sounded.

“Kirishima…” Katsuki’s voice was deep and heavy with warning.

The redhead looked him in the eyes, “Katsuki.”

The use of the blond’s first name sent a shiver up his back - and that was it. He moved, pushing aside the school work to straddle the alpha, to get as close as he could, the redhead surging forward to take the other’s lips in a messy, violent kiss. Katsuki couldn’t ask for anything better. Kirishima's sharp teeth pulled at his bottom lip, god he wanted those on his neck, digging into the sensitive gland located there. And his scent, fuck , Katsuki was going to have it all over him. For the next fucking week he’d be left walking around covered in the alpha’s scent. It had a throaty groan falling from his lips, that ended in a higher-pitched whine as Kiri did just as the blond had hoped, mouth nipping and sucking at his throat. The rough hands feel up Katsuki’s body, tugging up his skin-tight tank to reveal his pecks to the cold air, and squeezing them.

The blond tossed his head back, letting his mouth hang open. He didn’t think that would feel so good. They were so. Fucking. Sensitive.

“Damn,” the redhead cursed, looking up at Bakugou in awe, fingers playing with the hardened nubs.

Katsuki ground down on him, feeling the hardness of cock through the shitty jeans he wore. Not that the blond’s state was any better, god, he was likely making a mess of his boxers already. Still, no slick.

Not until Shitty-Hair decided to put his teeth to a better use - that supposedly being his overly sensitive chest. It had Katsuki hissing as a nipple was taken into his warm mouth, as the alpha fucking destroyed his tanktop, the fabric no match for Kirishima’s quirk, falling in taters onto the floor.  

Only then did the blond notice the sticky feeling between his legs. For a second he wondered if he came. Though he was still hard, his knot only beginning to form. Instead, the sticky feeling came from between the cheeks that the redhead’s hands had come down to grope.

Well, it looked like he had just gotten the answer to their question. Yes, he could still slick up, and no it wasn’t just a one-time thing. Holy shit. He was slicking like some bitch.

With a little bit of a stretch, Eijirou could fuck him so easily. Eijirou would be his first time, hell, if he wanted he’d be the first to finger the blond - Katsuki would be satisfied with anything at this point.

“Ei, Ei-” Katsuki choked on the alpha’s first name, the red eyes from their spot at his chest peering at him questioningly, “Eijirou- Take off my fucking pants .”

Before he knew it, Katsuki was sprawled out underneath the redhead, who growled as he reached for his bottoms. The blond’s own instincts were beaming, because this alpha was strong enough for him. This alpha was strong and rough and everything he could ask for. They knew what they wanted. They wanted the best, and that was Bakugou, and they weren’t afraid to take him. Kiri wasn’t afraid to.

Kind, happy, idiot of an alpha Kirishima. Who looked like a fucking god as he tore off Katsuki’s pants and boxers in one go, the blond’s body pulled forward with the effort. And he let his legs fall open, his shiny, wet thighs on display. His arms stretched comfortably above him. His ego soaking in Kiri’s heated gaze. His sweet yet sharp scent filled the bedroom. Kirishima’s own scenting increased in response.

“Woah, Kat-” The blond blushed as a pair of Kiri’s fingers ran across his inner thighs, through the slick smeared along his skin, “you smell like an alpha but you slick up like an omega in heat.”

Katsuki scowled, kicking out at the other, “I told you, stupid, shitty- hnnnnnh.”

His voice trailed off into a surprised whine as the redhead hiked one of Katsuki’s legs up onto his shoulder, his tongue darting out to lick up the slick he had been so enraptured about.

“Shit!” The hothead didn’t think his thighs were so sensitive, just as sensitive as his fucking tits.

The redhead hiked his other leg up so that Katsuki’s ass was in the air, and he went to town, face buried between the blond’s thighs, tongue lapping up the sweet slick.

“Fuck!” He threw his head back ignoring the ache as it hit the floor, the alpha’s tongue had finally found the other’s hole, urging Katsuki’s body to produce more and more slick, devouring the stuff as if it were his last meal.

Katsuki was tempted to touch himself, his ignored dick swelled atop his abdomen, wetting his navel with pre-cum. He knew the second his fingers wrapped around the member he wouldn’t be able to resist knotting into his own fist. He wanted to feel the other's knot first. Would Kirishima knot him? He hoped so. If the redhead’s mouth was this good - the sharp teeth that teased his rim - Katsuki could only imagine how it’d feel with the alpha fucking into him.

The heat of his mouth was suddenly retracted, causing Bakugou to groan in disappointment. Though it was soon replaced by a rough pair of fingers, massaging the blond’s entrance.

“Think you can take them both at once?” Realistically, Katsuki doubted that, he hadn’t even experienced one finger in his ass, not to mention two. Even if he was slicking up like an omega, he was still technically a virgin.

But fuck it, as long as he didn’t blow his load the second those digits entered him, he’d be fine. He was certainly wet enough, “try me.”

The stretch burned, the pair of fingers pulling his hole apart as they entered. Katsuki was grateful for how slow Kiri was going, allowing him time to adjust, rubbing the sensitive walls of the blond’s insides. Just as sensitive as the rest of his body apparently. And getting over the initial burn, it felt weird, but not bad. Filling - and he didn’t even have a dick in him yet. He couldn’t help but clench on the invading fingers, trying to get used to the feeling of being so open. And as his body adjusted, the more slick he produced so that the redhead's fingers were moving freely, slipping in and out with less and less resistance as they went.

Soon enough the alpha was adding a third one, curling them up into an area that had Katsuki throwing his head back, reaching to dig his fingers into Kirishima's arm and crying out in surprise. His muscles fluttered around the digits, completely plient, practically pulling them in. It sure as hell didn’t take his body very long to fall into this role of taking it up the ass. Maybe that’s Bakugou’s fault for thinking about the stupid alpha’s knot so often. How far were they going to go? Kiri was going to try knotting him, yeah? The stupid alpha better. Else he got the blond alpha all loose for nothing.

“Can I fuck you Katsuki?” Eijirou asked as if reading his mind.

“Fuck yeah.” The blond pushed himself further onto the fingers buried in his ass.

“I don’t even need a lube,” he muttered as if he wasn’t knuckle deep in a sopping wet hole, “such a good alpha.”

Hell yes . Obviously, it made no logical sense seeing that alphas weren’t supposed to be slicking up and that's exactly what he was getting praised for, but in Katsuki’s fucked up mind that didn’t matter. He was a good alpha, able to provide for his partner- he felt fucking proud.

Shitty-Hair wasted no time tearing his own clothes off. His boxers were the last to go, and if the sizable bulge that sat against the thin fabric was anything to go off, Katsuki was in for a treat.

His cock was huge . An alpha’s cock, much bigger than Katsuki’s own, the knot had already started to swell at the base, precum beading at the tip of the hardened member, balls hanging heavy, full of cum. Cum that Katsuki wanted inside him . He was grateful the redhead decided to use three fingers, cause he sure as hell didn’t look like he wanted to waste any more time. Katsuki’s never seen Kiri like this before, so powerful . He could get used to it.

“Katsuki, I can’t hold back anymore. Can I?” His hands trailed up and down the blond’s thighs.

In reply, the red-eyed alpha did his best to further part his legs, allowing as much room as possible for the other, “I already told you, so don’t make me do all the work now, Ei .”

Not that he was against the idea of riding the redhead till dawn. Nor was Shitty-Hair by the contemplating look upon his face. But he snapped out of it as the blond reached up to wrap an arm around his neck. And then the hot member was bumping against his ass, sliding along his slickened hole. The red eyes glanced down, hand lining up his cock to the stretched hole. Katsuki’s body opened up perfectly for the alpha’s cock, twitching as it slid into the wet opening. It went so deep, it filled him up so well. Why hadn't he tried this before? Though even Eijirou’s fingers did feel weak compared to the real thing, would his own fingers just succeed in frustrating himself? Especially compared to the alpha’s cock as it came to rest against the blond’s prostate, setting his body on fire. It felt as if he were going to pass out from the amount of pleasure this was giving him. He had doubts that he’d be able to feel satisfied again, not without Kirishima’s cock.

Both alphas were moaning as they settled, “you good Kat?”

“Never been better.” He rolled his eyes at the shark-toothed grin sent his way, jolting as Kiri pulled his body back, hands leaving a strong grip around his waist. And he pushed back in, bottoming out once again, and again, and again as he repeated the action. The blond’s hands gripping and tugging at the stupid red hair, eyes rolling back at the brutal pace that was so suddenly set. The shameful squelching sound of the excess slick. The gurgles and unintelligent words that escaped the blond’s mouth.

Katsuki’s shaky hand came down to tug at his smaller dick, the knot already half-formed. Ejirou watched the movement with half-lidded eyes, only quickening his pace chasing after an orgasm. His right hand came up to grasp at the blond’s peck. His own knot was already catching on the abused rim whenever he rammed in or pulled out.

God, he felt so close. The way Ei played with his nipple, the way his member hit that spot so well.

“Come- come on… knot me Eijirou.” He demanded, legs wrapped tightly around the other’s hips in an attempt to keep him close, “knot me!”

“So good…” Kiri gaped, “so good alpha.”

Katsuki yelped as his orgasm hit, the redhead's hand quickly coming down to squeeze his knot, earning a low groan from the blond as cum spurt across his stomach. His hole twitched around the alpha’s cock, feeling the pulsing knot as it was shoved into him, stretching his rim, finally growing too big to pull out. Eijirou gave a few more swallowed thrusts into the oversensitive body before he released his own seed. The substance had nowhere to go as the knot swelled to full size, causing an uncomfortable bloated feeling in the blond’s abdomen.

Kiri rested his forehead against the blond’s chest, “Kat, I think you’re the manliest alpha that could ever exist.”

With a knot in his ass, a belly full of cum, his own cum drying on his stomach, the redhead’s hold on his knot, and slick sticking to his thighs; Katsuki felt like he should be offended. Instead, his mouth twitched upwards and he couldn’t help but let out a tired snot.

This slick thing wasn’t all that bad, he wouldn’t mind if it stayed. So the alpha found himself content with dozing away in the other alpha’s arms on the floor of his dorm room, sure to be sore tomorrow but who fucking cared. He got what he wanted.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Kirishima Eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kiribaku #bakugou x kirishima #pwp #bnha #mha #fanfic

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine Pacho Sends You as a Gift to (Spy on) Amado 3/3

More smut (but I’m really bad at writing it, :////). Plot twist guaranteed. And I can’t believe I wrote 6K for this, FML. What has Chema done to me? I also made a few changes in the first two parts, read the whole thing on AO3.

You are woken by a phone call in the middle of the night. But you neither move nor open your eyes. You hear some numbers, Amado sounds irritated. It could be something related to tonight's dinner?

Your patience is wore out minutes after minute and Amado still hasn't returned to bed. You make a bold decision to wake up, and the Mexican is smoking by the window. Something keeps him up at night? That doesn't sound like the Lord of the Skies, the man who has had the world at his feet.

"You wanna talk, more sex or a bath?" You carefully propose.

"I was expecting for late night snacks you pull with some Asian witch shit." Amado lets you sit on his lap. "Hang on, I've got some leftovers from the kitchen."

You two settle for sharing the jacarandas mochi from a small food container in the bathtub.

"You like it?" You don't really need validation from Amado. It's just you spent hours coming up with the idea of improvisation, trying to make a traditional Japanese dessert more appealing to the Mexican guests. "I made the bean paste from scratch, less sugar. I understand most Mexicans are not used to sweet bean paste..."

"They don't deserve it." Amado suddenly claims. You don't get it. Who are they? "They are just a bunch of pigs in expensive suits, corrupted, stinky pieces of shit." Then Amado tells you almost everything. He invited the tequila exporters with the hope that the cartel could use their affiliate companies in the States as front to launder more drug money since tequila is one of the largest yet least regulated businesses between the US and Mexico. And the politicians are officials from Mexican Customs Bureau and SHCP.

"Fucking idiots. They thought I was gonna ask them to smuggle coke under the tequila crates. With all the fucking Pier 1 sofa and Ford pasenger seat manufacturers in Juárez, I've had more than enough trucks to move products across the border." When Amado brought up money laundering, the tequila exporters expressed concern regarding possible investigation of tax evasion from ATF, putting more pressure on Amado to increase their cut.

They eventually made a deal less favorable to the cartel and that's why Amado's a bit pissed when he's on the phone.

"Why are you telling me this?" For the first time that night, you ask softly.

"Those cabrón. They don't deserve what you bring to the table. You pour your heart and soul, making the best feast I've ever had. You deserve to know what happened." 

You've never thought you'd hear that from Amado. He didn't have to tell you anything. It makes you lower your guard. You want to get closer to him, without any agenda.

"Does this mean my body won't be put in the trunk of one of your auto collections tomorrow?" You try to lighten it up.

Amado kisses you from behind. The position is awkward but neither of you care. 

Making out with Amado in the bathtub makes the night better than your wettest dream. 

The Mexican's gonna make you cum again with those magician hands of his.

"You...haven't told me if you like the jacarandas mochi." You're so screwed. Maybe you'll never get the answer because Amado's too busy sucking you tits.

Amado clears his schedule the next day. He brings you to the Asian boutique where he bought the Japanese painting.

"One of my guys found this place. I thought you might be interested..." That's cute from a drug lord. But you're not that kind of person.

"A) I don't need a Buddha artifact home to find my inner peace, and B) only Pacho wears shirts with Chinese characters taken from a poem back in the Tang Dynasty. Seriously, he's ridiculous. Come on, let's go."

Instead, you two spend the day trying different Asian food you can find in DF. From hotpot to Peking roasted duck, from pho to char kway teow. Amado seems to enjoy the Chinese food more than others.

"Most Asian restaurants in North America are run by the Chinese, from San Francisco to DF. Since you guys can't tell if an Asian cook is from China, Japan, Vietnam or Thailand, he or she would quickly learn dishes from other Asian countries. We are always the most hardworking people." You explain to him.

"Oh, I love hardworking people." He's so full of shit but you can't help smiling. 

Amado finds a fortune cookie note saying "Happy New Year of Monkey." Then you explain Monkey is one of the Chinese zodiac signs which repeat every 12 years. 

"So 1956...I am a monkey? Cool." He's surprisingly quick with math.

You write the Chinese character of monkey on a napkin and Amado seems fascinated by it. So you suggest that he could get the Chinese character tattooed, "Next time you can show that to Pacho. He probably would get one, too."

Holy shit, he's really doing it. 

The way the tattoo parole Amado brings you to is cleared makes you believe it's part of the cartel business, which makes perfect sense. 

"You don't have any tattoos? Not at all?" You're surprised when the tattoo artist prepares Amado's skin on his forearm, first cleaning then shaving.

"We've fucked three times, once in a bathtub," Amado grins, obviously in a good mood, "Don't you think it's a bit late to ask? Or I fucked you too hard you didn't notice?"

Thank God the tattoo artist doesn't even flinch.

OK, you have to get back at the fucker. So when the tattoo artist asks you for the character to make a design, you write pig in Chinese instead of monkey.

"Hold on, that doesn't look like what you wrote on the napkin. Let me see it." Right after the tattoo artist places an outline of the design on his skin, the Mexican stops him.

You're 100% sure Amado doesn't speak or write Chinese. How the fuck does he figure it out?

"What is it exactly? Tell me the truth or you will have an honest conversation with my brother." Amado makes the threat more scary by pointing at Vicente, who stands next to the door with two guns and a pink lollipop. 

"Wait. He doesn't know shit. It was me...I wrote a different character." Your confession is quick, you don't want to see anyone get hurt over this beef.

You thought it's just a silly prank. Now you realize you're dealing with the most notorious narcos of the country. Amado may look like a businessman, reasonable, even decent. He's still capable of getting violent whenever he thinks it is necessary, to an extent you really don't want to know.

You take a deep breath, then apologize to Amado. You are ready for the consequence. 

"Apology accepted. On one condition, you'll have the exact same tattoo as I do when the new design is done." Fair enough.

But you're a chef who often needs to cook right in front of customers. You can't let them see a tattoo on your forearm. 

"How about here?" The Mexican is touching your breast as if no one's around.

It's a small tattoo, just one character. But it's near your heart and you're sensitive as fuck.

You can't move but your nipples are hard almost through the entire process. Amado's right beside you and he sees everything. Someone please help you ease the pain FFS.

The fucker doesn't act on it until you get into the car. Amado shuts the soundproof panel between the front and rear seats and the next thing you know, you're riding the man who just makes you get a stupid matching tattoo. It fucking stings, and itchy. Yet the pleasure is undeniable when your tits being teased, bit, sucked. Amado carefully avoids the tattoo, which makes you want him to scratch the itch even more. You scream his name when you cum with both extreme pleasure and pain.

Amado puts an arm around you when it's over. Two matching tattoos are right next to one another. Your heart is still beating fast from the afterglow, echoing his pulse.

You feel the caress on your beast, it hurts a bit yet the body warmth is nice. Is it how it feels to be marked by someone else? Not many people will ever see it, plus it's not a specific name or symbol that would embarrass you later. It'd be a secret.

"You know what? You won't be able to find a dead body to stand in for you when you eventually betray me, sweetheart. No one else would get a tattoo like this." 

What Amado just says feels like a kick in the stomach. It's cold and absolutely right. Have you been sloppy? Has Amado figured out something already? "Why would I betray you?" You ask, but he doesn't give an answer.

It's the last day of your stay. You have a very special package delivered from Japan.

You gonna make blowfish sashimi tonight for Amado.

Everyone knows it's toxic so it has to be handled with meticulous care. You make Amado watch every step —  a set of fuguhiki, knives with thin blade is unwrapped, you pick them one by one to gut the fish, remove the deadly liver and ovaries, skin it and cut off its head. Then instead of cutting outward like most people do, you turn a knife to cut inward. 

"Careful! You shouldn't hold knife like that." Amado almost jumps in to help. But you assure him it's OK. Then you show off the technique to cut extremely thin and translucent slices of blowfish.

To make the white meat more attractive, you set the slices in a large plate with red poppy flower pattern. They are so thin, the poppy flower is still visible when all's done.

"An ancient Chinese writer used to say, 'The taste of blowfish is worthy of death.'" You joke when you mix the sauce. "Don't worry. I'm a licensed blowfish-preparation chef."

Amado squints, "So you're testing me."

You want to tell him to just trust you, but you don't know how.

"There's no antidote for the tetrodotoxin. But I'll eat it, too. If it's poisonous, our muscle will be paralyzed bit by bit when we're fully conscious, eventually we won't be able to breathe. We're going to die slowly, painfully and desperately."

You take the first bite, Amado follows.

"Why are you so loyal to him?" Amado breaks the silence, "For one, you don't sleep with him. You obviously are not related. And as far as I know, money can't buy loyalty."

"I'll answer it if you answer my question first." The Mexican agrees. "You didn't want me for me, you barely knew me. You made the decision when Pacho said I was the best, he wouldn't last a week without me. You want him, or something that makes you his equivalent. Except being gay, I don't know. You won't fuck his boys, so I'm the next proxy. Am I correct?"

After a pause, Amado nods. Then it's your turn.

"How many female chefs do you know?" Amado is confused for a few seconds, then he gets it.

"There was no place for you in your line of work, just like there was no place for him in this game controlled by men, men who have multiple wives and fuck whores. He sees himself in you. So he takes you under his wings."

"Yes. Pacho is the only one who's believed me. He's also the biggest shareholder of my first restaurant."

Amado then asks what you gonna tell Pacho when you return. "I'll tell him you give really good heads. Maybe he should try it himself." You wink, "No, I'll let him know you're not a cold-blooded bastard. Even though you sometimes make awful choice by dipping sashimi in guacamole, you're appreciative of other people's work." You really mean it, you like Amado. But you'll probably never know if he buys it or if it matters.

After a while, you finish the whole plate of blowfish sashimi. "Seems we're not dead." Amado's poking your cheek with chopsticks.

"No, we are not."

"Last question, why did Pacho send you?"

"Amado, you would've done the same. You know that."

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos imagine #amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera

[losingmymindtonight]

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

--

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

--

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

--

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

--

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

--

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

--

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

--

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

--

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

--

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

--

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

--

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

--

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

--

--

--

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

#wooo it's a monster #me: my irondadbingo is going to be short little ficlets! #also me: *writes 11k words* #help #irondad #irondadbingo #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes

[purplebyul]

Sunshine and clouds.

teacher AU. Prompt: “the nice one who everybody loves with the grumpy one. and their student are just like???? how??? what the fuck???”

Or : “Mr.Demaury teaches a class of very noisy third years.” (ao3)

September, a new school year begins. Lea and her friends are in their last year of high school and, like every start of the year, they’re all motivated. For now. This year is the last, I’m gonna make it the best one, with a perfect score on all my exams and tests, be nice to everyone, etc. Every student says that, but, like their new year’s resolutions, they won’t keep it. 

The first hour on the first day, they’re all seated in a classroom looking at their schedule while the teacher goes on about god knows what. Because the most important thing is between their hands right now: their schedule. Suddenly, she’s hit by her friend Amalie, whisper-shouting her name.

«Lea! Looks who’s our literature teacher !» 

« Oh my god yes! I can’t wait to have classes again with him !»

« And we all know why, hmm girl?» Adds Jérôme, one of her friends too.

« Shut it Jéjé, as if you’re not drooling all over the guy too, you useless gay.» And that’s Anthony for you.

They’re still bickering when Emma, a nice girl who joined their little group recently, takes a grave voice «Oh no…»

« What is it, Emma?»

« Look at our bio teacher…»

And if it isn’t the most terrifying sentence they’ve ever heard. Because, in this beautiful Parisian school, there is only one teacher that can make your skin crawl just by seeing their name on your timetable. 

« We’re fucked.»

*

Today is supposed to be a good day. No bio class, only literature, math, and English. All the teachers in this course are nice, so it’s good. And it’s sunny, which is very rare for Paris in September - thanks to climate change - so really, what could go wrong? 

When Lea gets inside her literature classroom, she is so not ready to see her most hated teacher here, talking to her favourite teacher of all time. Mr. Demaury, known as Sunshine, is sitting on his desk, smiling brightly - real-life sunshine, they’re not joking - while looking at Mr. Lallemant, or the worst teacher ever. 

Well, he’s not the worst teacher, quite the contrary actually. His classes are never boring, he teaches them well and gives good explanations, taking the time to explain when they don’t understand. But it always comes with a snarky remark. And he’s always grumpy, smiles rarely and he is not very patient. Yes, he explains when you don’t understand, but not before sighing for two minutes straight. Ok maybe not two minutes, but he never tries to hide how judging he is of his class. 

They both turn their heads towards Lea when she enters and Mr. Demaury’s smile dim a little. Mr. Lallemant clears his throat, throwing a «See you later.» to the other teacher before going out. Mr. Demaury looks after him, always smiling, before turning his head toward Lea when she sits down. He sits back at his desk, opening a little notebook while every other student comes in, one by one. Emma sits next to her and soon enough, the whole room is full but it’s not like in Mr. Lallemant’s class, oh no. Here, everybody is waiting for Mr. Demaury to say something because, well. He has a nice voice. And he is nice. And pretty. And smiley. And pretty.

« Good morning everyone !»

A chorus of good mornings answers him and if it’s possible, Mr. Demaury’s smile gets bigger. Not quite as big as the one he had when Mr. Lallemant was here though. Which makes Lea wonders a little: what could her bio teacher have said to make the other one smile so bright? She doesn’t have time to dwell on it because soon enough, Mr. Demaury’s voice rings clear as a bell in the classroom.

« First of all, I hope you all had a good summer vacation. And-»

« We hope your vacation was nice too, sir!»

«Oh, thank you. It was nice, I had a lot of fun.»

« What did you do for your vacation, Mr. Demaury?»

« Yes, what did you do ?»

A nice blush colours their teacher��s cheeks at this moment and he rubs his fingertips on his lips. It's a nervous habit he has that makes everybody fall more in love with him. 

« Hm, well. I went to my partner’s family in the south of France, so we had a nice beach vacation. And then we went to visit some friends in Oslo.»

If you listen close enough, half of the students in this room had their hearts broken by a single word in this sentence.

« Wait, you’re in a relationship ?!» 

Lea is too shocked to say something, while Emma is shaking her like she’s trying to get gold coins out of her. Soon, they’re whispering.

« Did you know he had someone?»

«I’m making the same fish out of its tank face as you! Of course, I didn’t know!»

«Of course he’s not single, have you seen his face?»

« Shut up Anthony, a girl can dream!»

« Ugh, gross. He’s ten whole years older than you.»

«Perfect opportunity to call him daddy.»

«Jérôme!!» Anthony says before hitting him upside the head. 

Their bickering stops when they hear Mr. Demaury clearing his throat. He’s still as red as he was a minute ago when Jérôme asked if he was in a relationship. 

« It’s none of your business but yes, I am in a relationship. Have been since I was your age, actually.»

At that, the whole class gasps and some aww-ed out loud. 

« But that’s not what this class is about!» Mr. Demaury says, trying to regain composure. But everybody in the room can see that a smile is making his lips twitch and the blush on his face. «Anyway, back to what I first wanted to say!»

And even though they try to get back to the subject of their favourite teacher’s relationship, Mr. Demaury doesn’t let them do it. After twenty minutes, they stop trying. Mostly because he threatened to give them a paper to do for next week if they didn’t stop.

*

The first week of their new high school year has gone by smoothly, until now. It’s 7.40 a.m and their first class is with Mr. Lallemant. To say that everyone is scared of what will happen is an understatement. 

 When they arrived, Mr. Lallemant was already here, going over a huge pile of papers while drinking his morning coffee. Nobody greeted him when they entered, but neither did he, keeping his eyes focused on his lesson. 

But once the clock hit exactly 8a.m, Mr. Lallemant stands up and everyone sucks in a breath.

« Good morning everyone.» Nobody answers. « I know you don’t like bio, even though you enrolled in the scientific course for your last year, too bad for you. But please, do take part in class, get your homework done and study for the tests, because many are coming your way. If you do that, everything will go smoothly and you’ll hopefully go to college or do whatever it is you wanna do. I don’t care as long as you’re out of this class. Science is something you have to know by heart, so that's not as complicated as literature, where you have to invent some bullshit to have a passing grade. Is it clear?» Nobody answers, a couple of them mumbling a little «yes» but not looking up from their desks. Mr. Lallemant sighs and seems tired of his students' silence. « Great. Let’s get to it then.»

*

« Oh my god, how is it that you can forget something so easy in only two months? Come on man, it’s not that hard. Think.» 

« Ok, since you can’t answer, does anybody here can help her? Anybody that isn’t me, I’m the teacher here I shouldn’t have to answer.»

« When you can’t fucking throw something from your chair into the bin, you pick your ass up and go to the bin to throw it in, Anthony. It’s not a hard concept for god’s sake.»

« You know what? You all seem so eager to leave so please do, I’m tired of seeing your faces for today.»

To say their first class of three hours with Mr. Lallemant was hell is, as usual, an understatement. 

*

After learning that their favourite teacher is in a happy relationship, and has been for a long time, they all decided to make a deal. Every time they’ll have a class with Mr. Demaury. They’ll ask him a question about his relationship before the class starts. And so, when the second class of the trimester arrived, they all are a nervous mess. 

 Mr. Demaury arrives in class and everybody is already seated. He greets them with a beautiful smile and a cheerful «Hello you all!» before losing his jacket - making a few girls giggle behind Lea, which in turn makes Emma roll her eyes at them. 

Nobody dares to be the first one to ask the question. So, once Mr. Demaury is about to speak again and start their lesson, Lea doesn’t think twice before raising her hand. Mr. Demaury stops in his tracks and looks at her, raising an eyebrow in question. 

« Yes, Lea ?»

« Sir, I was wondering,» she takes in a big breath while Jérôme whispers encouraging words to her, « where did you meet your lover ?»

It says on Mr. Demaury's face that he wasn’t ready for this kind of question. An adorable blush is making its way on his face, up to his ears. He clears his throat, before grabbing his book and turning towards the board. 

« That’s not class-related Lea, I’m sorry I can’t answer.»

They all groans but before they can say anything, Mr. Demaury raises his voice and starts the lesson of the day.

 They’ll get more info one day. 

*

The next time they try it, it was with an innocent question. A simple « Where was your first date ?». It earned them a « That’s not in the theme of our lesson here, Anthony.».

« But sir we’re talking about Romeo & Juliet here, we’re talking about love!»

« Anyway, back to Romeo & Juliet and the meaning behind their first time as lovers.»

And after that, every time they tried asking something, Mr. Demaury would straight up ignore them or answer with something else: « So this summer you met their parents? » « The beach was nice, if you have to visit the south of France, I recommend Nice. » 

« Are they romantic with you? Do they treat you right? » « Yes, my lunch was good, thank you for asking. »

« Is it a he or a she ? » which earned Jérôme another slap to the back of his head from Anthony. And earned them a « My sexuality is none of your business. », said with the most beautiful smile, which threw them out of a loop. 

Then the questions got a bit more personal, they were trying hard to guess the identity of this person. But again, Mr. Demaury never answered any of them. « Do we know them, is that why you don’t want to tell us?»; « Are they taller or smaller than you? »; « What’s the first letter of their name, please!»; « Or at least their last name? » 

They would have stopped if Mr. Demaury seemed bothered by it. But every time they asked something, a smile etched itself on his face. Probably because he was thinking about his lover. But damn, he would never give them even a hint and they were frustrated. And thus was born the plan: stalk Mr. Demaury between classes. 

*

« I don’t get why we have to follow him during his lunch break! He’s just going to eat!»

« Shut up Jérôme!»

« But it’s not gonna give us any clue on who his lover is!»

«You don’t know that! Maybe he’ll talk about his lover with someone!»

« Shhh !! He’s right here !»

They all quiet down at that. Hiding behind a wall next to the teacher’s lounge, they have a full view inside it. And here he is, Mr. Demaury, sitting in front of Mr. Lallemant. It startles them at first. Because how can a ray of sunshine like Mr. Demaury talk to a person like Mr. Lallemant? They’re the total opposite of each other!

Mr. Demaury is talking animatedly while Mr. Lallemant stuffs pasta in his mouth when his eyes make direct contact with Lea’s one.

« Shit!! We made eye contact!»

All of a sudden, Mr. Demaury isn’t speaking anymore. He puts his forks down and turns his face toward where the little group is. His face hardens and he gives them the most murderous stare they’ve ever seen on someone. A second later, they’re all running the opposite way.

« I told you it was no use! We didn’t learn anything! 

« And now he hates us !»

« Shut up! I didn’t know that's how boring his lunch break was! »

Let’s say that their afternoon class with Mr. Demaury was the worst one they had. Every time he looked at them, his stare would be cold. Fortunately, it lasted only for a day. Next week, he was back in his sunshine mode.

*

It’s now the beginning of December and in two weeks, their winter holidays start. Since the start of the year, they kept asking Mr. Demaury questions about his lover, but to no avail. Still, they try. With no luck. 

They were hyped, their heads full of new ideas to get Mr. Demaury to confess at least the first letter of his lover’s name. But that was before their class with Mr. Lallemant. He was in a particularly foul mood today, has been for the whole year really, but today was worse than anything they’ve ever experienced. Usually, he makes snarky remarks, says something rude and in general, he’s just mean to them. But nothing they can’t handle. But today, when they entered the room, Mr. Lallemant was staring out of the window, as if…empty. 

Once everyone was at their desks, he stood up and spoke with the deadliest voice they’ve ever heard. 

« So, I graded your test and I don’t get how you can fail so much on something we’ve spent two months on.»

They all winced, but Mr. Lallemant was not finished.

« No, really. I’m impressed by your stupidity. You chose the S course, but you make no effort to work for it. I know bio isn’t the most interesting for you, maybe you’re more into math or geometry or whatever, but do you think you’re gonna get your Bac with grades like the one I have here? Guess what, you won’t. The higher-grade? Twelve. Freaking twelve. I’ve never had third years like you before. You’re all gonna fail, but I did my job. I really don’t get how you can fail like that.»

After that whole speech, let’s say that their spirits were crushed. Lea was the highest score of the class, but she didn’t feel proud. She was mostly angry about what Mr. Lallemant said as if they were stupid. Like a typical student feel when a teacher tells them to work more, really.

So, when Mr. Lallemant dismissed the class and they headed towards Mr. Demaury’s one, nobody was in a happy mood. But at least, they were about to see his sunshine smile and maybe, that would make their day a little bit brighter.

When they entered the room, Mr. Demaury was already writing something on the board. He turned to greet them but quickly stopped when he saw their faces. He waited until everyone was at their desk, sitting on top of his, before speaking.

« What’s happening, guys? Looks like everybody’s pet just died.»

« No, we just got out of one of Mr. Lallemant’s class.»

« … And ?»

« We don’t like him. He’s always so mean to us. It was worse today.» A chorus of «yes», «that’s true» echoes in the room and Mr. Demaury looks pained. Perhaps even shocked. 

« Why was it worse ?»

« He basically told us we were stupid because of our new grades.»

«Yes! He said we were gonna fail and that he’s never seen third years as stupid as us.»

Mr. Demaury crosses his arms and sighs, rubbing his face quickly.

« Ok guys. I’m going to talk to you about something personal, so listen up.»

They were all complaining about Mr. Lallemant, some of them calling him names, but they stopped after what their teacher said, now giving him their full attention.

« First of all, we’re humans, like you. Us too, we get our bad day. And sometimes we don’t want to get out of bed to teach a bunch of children who couldn’t care less about what we say.»

« But your class is always good sir! We always listen to you!»

« Yes, but not to Mr. Lallemant.» they’re now all silent, some of them even looking down at their feet. « You know, Mr. Lallemant and I have been friends for a very long time. He tells me stuff. About how you act in his class. About how you stay quiet and never participate. You never answer his questions and not even to his good mornings. Imagine, working somewhere for many years and none of your students greeting you? Would you like that if I came in and never answered your hellos ?»

Nobody dares to look at Mr. Demaury now. Mostly because of what he’s saying and that they’re ashamed of themselves. But also because it sounds like Mr. Demaury is disgusted by their attitude. 

« Why are you all ignoring him when he’s the one to get you to pass your bac?»

« Well, he’s mean with us. And scary. It feels like he’s always judging us. Like he doesn’t like us.»

Mr. Demaury lets out a little laugh, before sighting. « I know Mr. Lallemant can be a little shit, and he has no tact, I know. But do you know why he’s like that ?»

They all shake their heads «no».

« Because being a teacher as always been his dream job. When I met him, he was always telling me about how he was gonna be the best bio teacher in Paris. And how every student will pile up in front of his class to listen to him. How big professors were going to ask him to do lectures in their college. How he was gonna publish a book about his biologic discoveries. », he smiles a little while retelling this story, before sighing again. That’s the first time they’ve heard Mr. Demaury sighs so much.

« He put a lot of pressure on himself to be the best because everyone was encouraging him to be it, I included. And then, his first day came around and he was so stressed and anxious, he started talking to his student like he talks with his friends. He’s rude, he doesn’t have a filter but it’s only because of his anxiety and this desire to be loved. And here you are, telling me you hate him.»

It would have hurt less if Mr. Demaury went and slapped them one by one.

« Try to be nice to him. Answers, when he says hello, tries to participate. He’s not mean on purpose, he’s just stressed. He’s a huge nerd about biology, he only wants to find students that will be as hyped to talk about freaking cells as him. Do this for me, please guys.»

« Can you tell Mr. Lallemant we’re sorry, sir? We didn’t know we made him feel so bad.»

«You don’t know what someone goes through daily, so always try to be nice to them. And no, if you want to apologize, you’ll do it yourself. Now, let’s get back to our lesson.»

The atmosphere in the room stays cold after that little discussion. And even Mr. Demaury’s energy seems to have left the room. He’s as empty as Mr. Lallemant was this morning and it makes them feel even more bad about themselves.

 Emma leans over to whispers into Lea’s ear. « We should do something for Mr. Lallemant.»

« Yes, we’ll come up with something.»

*

They never came up with something. Or at least, not directly. Mr. Lallemant was colder than ever after their last class. He seemed tired, with big bags under his eyes and no will to even make snarky comments. Plus, Mr. Demaury was sick the whole week so they didn’t attend any of his classes. And to be honest, he was the only one to give them the courage to go to Mr. Lallemant’s class. 

So now, it was like this: nobody dared try to say something to Mr. Lallemant. But they at least now answered when he greeted them at the beginning of their class. The first time they did, he looked shocked and everybody was happy to see him looking at them with wide eyes. But he said nothing of it and just started his lecture like it was another normal day. So it didn’t encourage them, and some of the students stopped trying to be nice to him and kept their bad attitude. 

But this time, it looked like Mr. Lallemant wanted to be anywhere but here. His voice was small, and he looked kind of lifeless. So, Lea decided that it was time they came up with something.

« Who can tell me what is inside a DNA structure? I suppose no one will try to answer, I don’t even know why I ask anymore. So, a DNA-

« Hm, sir ?» 

« Yes, Lea ?»

« DNA structure is made out of molecules, but I don’t remember the name of it.»

Mr. Lallemant seems surprised and he stays silent for a minute, before shaking himself out of it.

« Yes, you’re right. And the molecules are called nucleotides. Do you know what’s inside a nucleotides ?»

« Isn’t it phosphate? Or is it the four nitrogen bases ?» Asks Anthony. 

« It’s phosphate. But there’s also something inside phosphate. DNA is like a Russian doll but with different types of molecules that each have a purpose.»

When Mr. Lallemant gets out of class after their lesson, he seems less tired, and almost like he’s fighting a small smile while looking at his phone. Outside the classroom, Lea high five Anthony. They made their teacher kind-of happy, and it feels good.

*

A week to go and then, their winter vacation starts. But before that, their school is throwing a little party. Well, ''party'' is a big word. It’s an after-school get together for the whole school, teachers included, from 5p.m to 10p.m. Kind of like prom, in fact. It’s a way to say «you’re almost done, good luck for your finals after you get back from your holidays!». 

And so, when they heard teachers could bring a plus one thanks to Mrs. Lecomte, their bubbly french teacher, the whole class was excited. Of course, Mr. Demaury is going to bring his lover as a plus one! Finally, the mystery is gonna be lifted! They can’t wait and at 5p.m sharp, they’re already in the gymnasium, waiting for all their teachers to arrive. For the moment, only the Bakhellals, Mrs. Lecomte and Mr. Lallemant are here. 

« Have you seen him somewhere inside the school ?»

« No, no sign of him. Maybe he’s late ?»

« He’s never been late, that’s unusual.»

« Maybe he was horny before coming so he’s banging.»

« For fuck’s sake Anthony you hang out too much with Jérôme !»

*

Almost everybody is here now, it’s 6p.m but still no sign of Mr. Demaury. Every other professor is here, joking around together. And the little gang is sitting at a table, looking at Mr. Lallemant. They sure as hell aren’t going to miss Mr. Demaury if they keep looking at Mr. Lallemant since they’re such best friends. They still can’t figure out why.

He’s rolling his eyes at what Mrs. Lecomte just said. He still hasn’t smiled since he arrived and they wonder how can he have so many friends when he barely smiles. 

« How can he crave to be loved when he never smiles ?»

« Maybe he's self-conscious about his teeth ?»

«Ugh, shut up Emma, it isn’t because of his teeth. Mr. Demaury said he's a nervous person, he must not feel comfortable enough.»

« Speaking of Mr. Demaury, he just arrived !»

« Oh my god, look how good he looks !»

« Wait, why is he alone ?»

« Don’t tell me he didn’t bring his plus one or I’m gonna cry !»

They see him literally skips until he reaches Mrs. Bakhellal and Mr. Lallemant. As soon as Mr. Lallemant sees him, his face hardens and he crosses his arms.

« What the fuck, did they fight ?»

« No way !»

« Let’s move to a table closer to them, I can’t hear what they’re saying !»

As subtly as they can, they try to move closer to where the teachers are. They don’t see that Mr. Demaury spotted them, but he only smiles in answer of them trying to be spies - and failing miserably.

When they reach their target, which is a small table next to the big buffet, they can kind of hear what their teachers are talking about. The music isn’t too loud for the moment to cover their conversation.

« You’re late. Again. »

« What do you mean, again ?! »

« Please Eliott, don’t play dumb. You’re always late! »

« But I was cuddling Marie! »

They don’t have time to get excited about what they just heard, because Marie might be the mysterious lover they kept pestering Eliott about, that Mr. Lallemant ruins it. 

« You have an unhealthy relationship with that cat, Eliott. »

« She’s the one who wouldn’t let me leave! That’s why I’m all covered in cat hair. »

« Don’t you dare put your shirt in the hamper only because of that. You’re going to break the washing man, dude. »

« You did not just call me dude! »

And the next sight they see is what make them pause for a moment. Because Eliott squished Mr. Lallemant into his side with his arm around his neck, while one of his hand is holding Mr. Lallemant’s cheeks, making him do a fish face. And their bio teacher is only looking fondly at Mr. Demaury. At that, they all look at each other, a bit perplexed. Well, except Jérôme, who « tsk » loudly at them.

« Friends can be close, you all are just used to toxic masculinity. »

« Yeah, that’s my man,» says Anthony, kissing Jérôme’s cheek right after.

« We’re probably reading too much into this since we’re desperate to see who he’s dating. »

« You’re right, Lea. »

« And I don’t really get any gay vibes from Mr. Demaury. »

« Stop with the stereotypes Jérôme. »

« No, but look at him, no gay vibes at all! »

But when they turn their attention back to where Mr. Demaury - who they finally learned his name - and Mr. Lallemant are supposed to be, there’s only Mrs. Bakhellal and Mrs. Lecomte standing there. They sigh. 

« Ok, we need to investigate though. I don’t care if he doesn’t have any gay vibes, maybe he really is with Mr. Lallemant. »

« Why would he? It’s Mr. Lallemant! »

« Oh my god guys I just thought of something ! » Emma gasps while hitting all of them on their shoulders.

« What the fuck Emma ?! »

« Stop hitting us every time you have something to tell us! »

« I bruise like a peach girl, and you know it! »

« Shut up, you all! Remember when Mr. Demaury told us about why Mr. Lallemant is the way he is ? » when they all nod, she continues, « He said they’ve been friends for a very long time! And he also told us that he’s been with his lover since high school! »

They look at her blankly, because they don’t really get it.

« Ugh, you’re all so stupid. Mr. Demaury told us how Mr. Lallemant always wanted to be a teacher, right? So obviously, they knew each other before going to college so…Probably since high school! »

And now, they get it. They all gasp, Jérôme exclaiming « Emma, you are the only straight I’ll ever call a genius, I love you ! » while hugging her before Lea speaks a bit louder to be heard over their excited squeals.

« Ok, we need to investigate! We have to keep an eye on them the whole night, got it? »

« Got it, chef! »

*

The party is in full swing now, and the little spies are only moving from one table to another, in hope of keeping an eye on their teachers. 

Right now, Lea and Emma are next to the buffet, each with a drink in their hand, making small talk while checking behind them to see what their teachers are doing. Anthony and Jérôme are a few tables away, not too close to be spotted but not too far away either. Every one of them has a clear view of their targets, who are sitting facing each other. They're close, whispering in each other’s ear to talk - but they don’t take that as evidence since they all have to do that to be able to hear anything, thanks to the pop music playing loudly in the background. 

The first thing they noticed is: they always stay close to each other. The only time they were apart was to get some food or drinks…for the other one. The spies are growing more and more suspicious as time pass, never leaving for too long to be sure to not miss anything. 

The second thing they noticed is: Mr. Lallemant does know how to smile. And fuck if he’s not beautiful when he does. In the span of an hour, they’ve seen him smile and laugh more than during their previous year. Sometime, Mr. Demaury will say something that makes him laugh so much he’ll rock back and forth on his chair, before leaning his head on the other’s shoulder. And Mr. Demaury will smile so bright he could illuminate the whole room. Sometime they’ll start a silly game of thumb war, which are often lost by Mr. Demaury, and it’ll end with Mr. Lallemant doing a silly victory dance. And then Mr. Demaury will grab him by his shirt and make him sit back down before ruffling his hair to mess with him. For the whole night, it’s been like that, but nothing to confirm if they’re in a relationship or not. Which is very frustrating.

Mr. Demaury is looking around him, as if he’s assessing the situation going on around them, before turning his attention back to Mr. Lallemant. And he says something that makes Mr. Lallemant bite his bottom lip and look at the floor. The little group all look at each other with their brows furrowed, because it seems like their teachers are having an important conversation. For the next five minutes, they speak and look around them and the atmosphere around them seems to have changed. It looks like Mr. Lallemant is thinking about something like he’s trying to decide on something. 

After a short while, he shrugs and turns back to Mr. Demaury with a small smile on his face. Mr. Demaury is asking him something else and after Mr. Lallemant nods, a smile appears on his face and they’re both standing up. 

A slow song has come on now, and a lot of couples are already on the dance floor. Except for Mr. Bakhellal, who’s dancing with his sister, the cutest sight right now. In the next minute, Emma, Lea, Anthony, and Jérôme open their mouths so wide their jaws are closed to hitting the floor. Mr. Demaury is guiding Mr. Lallemant under the lights and, once they’ve giggled like kids for a few seconds, he throws his arms around Mr. Lallemant's neck, slowly moving them to the rhythm of the music. 

The next thing they see is Mr. Demaury leaning his forehead against Mr. Lallemant’s, gently rubbing their noses together and this time, their relationship can not be mistaken for something else now.

Emma and Lea are suddenly running to join Anthony and Jérôme on their little table, which gives them a nice view of their teachers.

�� Omg guys, they’re making my teeth rot. How sweet can they get? »

« I wanna have a boyfriend like that. » Sighs Jérôme.

« We all do man,» answers Anthony, while looking dreamily onto the beautiful couple slow dancing and looking so in love, the little group truly don’t get how they didn’t see it earlier. Mr. Lallemant and Demaury are holding each other as if scared to let go. But at the same time, they seem so comfortable, like they’re in their own bubble, whispering closely and smiling every few seconds. 

But soon this little bubble is burst when the song ends and, the DJ should be fired for cutting this moment short. A new song comes on and it’s freaking dubstep. The group groans at the choice of song...how can you dance to something like that? 

« I hate dubstep. It’s so lame. »

« Do the DJ think we’re back in 2010 or what? »

« Guys please stop arguing about dubstep and look at Mr. Demaury, what the fuck is he doing ?! »

What a sight to see. Because very handsome, smiley and nice Mr. Demaury is now jumping around, throwing his arms in all directions, certainly trying to « dance » while Mr. Lallemant is hiding his face in his hand, crouching on the floor. Which do not seem to bother Mr. Demaury, who keeps on jumping around, jamming to the blasting music?

« … They’re so adorable. I want to be them. »

« They make me hope I’ll find my soulmate too. »

«Soulmates? »

« Please Anthony, you can’t tell me that they don’t look like they’re soulmate! »

« You’re right. They’ll spend their life together, you can feel it. »

*

Their first-class after winter break is with Mr. Demaury and there's this charged energy in the whole classroom. Because they can’t wait. They’re impatient. They’re all seated at their desks, their legs bouncing up and down while waiting for their teacher to come in. Which he does, a minute after the bell rang. 

« Good morning everyone! »

« Good morning! »

« So, how was your winter break? I hope you all had fun. »

« Yes we did! »

« Ok, good! Then let’s start, shall we? »

And so, their class starts. They’re all very distracted during the whole period and it must shows, because, after only twenty minutes of trying to talk about literature, Mr. Demaury gives up, puts his book down on his desk before leaning against it. 

« Ok guys, what’s going on? I know you just came back to school and it’s your last year so it’s stressful, but you’re a lot more dissipated today than usual. »

They all stay silent, nobody dares speak up. Until Jérôme raises his hand, making everyone groans. 

« Yes, Jérôme? »

« So… we saw you and Mr. Lallemant at the school party before winter break. »

« Yes. » his voice immediately turned cold. « What about it? »

«Nothing! We’re really happy for you! »

« Oh… » he all a sudden seems shy about being so cold. « OK. But why are you all acting weird, if you don’t have a problem with it? »

« We’re teenagers, sir. We’re curious. I mean, two of our teachers are dating, we wanna know stuff! »

Mr. Demaury laughs at that, smacking lightly his thigh at the same time before rubbing his face and sighing loudly.

« Ok. Ask away. You’re allowed three questions. »

Everyone starts whispering before Jérôme tells them to «pick a fucking question guys we don’t have all day!» and then, Jérôme is turning back toward their teacher.

« Ok, first question: do you plan on getting married to Mr. Lallemant? »

« Yes, actually, I bought a ring. »

Everybody cheers and claps in the room, making Mr. Demaury blush even harder than he already was while answering the question.

« Ok, ok, shh! He doesn’t know guys so quiet down, his classroom is not that far. »

« Ok, second question: how did you get together ?»

« Wow, ok. So, eum..» he squares his shoulder a little, clear his throat before talking again, « You know how sometimes I don’t come for a whole week ? » they all nods, waiting, « Well, it’s because of eum.. some mental health problems, I have. » he exhales, shaking himself a little, « I’m bipolar. » he marks a pause, but nobody knows how to react. So Jérôme, being Jérôme, answers simply: 

« Ok. We don’t know what to say but thank you for sharing this with us, I guess? »

Mr. Demaury laughs a little at that, before wiping his eyes slowly. « You’re welcome, I guess. Anyway, that wasn’t your question. » he takes a breath, crossing his arms in front of him, « So, we flirted for two, three weeks after we met and then we started dating. But we were young and I got scared because of something he said and then I fucked up. So, I tried to win him back and when it finally happened, I had an episode. When it passed, I tried to end thing with him, but he didn’t let me do it. He said that we’ll make it work, and we’ve been together since. So, yeah. Here’s your very personal answer. »

Jérôme doesn’t take another minute before asking his new questions, while everyone protests because he didn’t consult them.

« You said you met each other in high school, right? How did you two meet? »

A smile spread Mr. Demaury’s lips, while he looks fondly to his feet as if remembering how it went down years ago. 

« I had just transferred school, I was walking in on my first day when I bumped into him. I saw him with his friends, laughing about something. Lucas didn’t see me. But I saw him. He was all I could see actually. »

#elu fic #eliottxlucas #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skamfr #skam france #skamfr fic #skam france fic #my first time writing something this long and posting it #i hope you'll like it

[tfw-no-tennis]

hxh RESUME

back at it again w/the hxh, heres my recap of the last few eps 

ok so i totally forgot to recap that one ep at the end of the hunter exam arc lets see what i remember from like 3 wks ago lollll

i thiiiiink i left off in the middle of ep 21 lol. i really dont remember much tbh so im gonna skim the ep to refresh

exposition time! its so wild that if you lose ur hunter card That It like u cant get another or retake the exam hgabjdfuhasjf Ls 

also the fact that you can sell it is rlly interesting 

leorio & kurapika backing up gon as he confronts illumi again :’) good lil family 

illumi u fool. gon is a shounen protag. he can do anything he sets his mind to

the fact that gon thanks illumi for telling him where killua is....hes literally THAT polite like...what a perfect boy 

hisoka just fuckgin stepping out of the shadows....ok bitch 

the fact that gon fucked up illumis arm that bad with one hand....boi is STRONK 

AUGH AUGH AUGHHHH HISOKA IS SO CREEPY AUGHHH I HATE THIS BIIIITCH 

ok but like is illumi implying that hisoka is a fr p*do bc uhhhhh thats so nasty oh lord. pls stay away from gon, and killua, and like everyone as a matter of fact 

EWWWWWWWWWW I HATE HISOKA HES SO NASTY. PLS STOP MAKING P*RNO FACES IN RELATION TO 12 YR OLD BOYS. 

no but rlly what IS hisoka gonna do now. im assuming he’ll show up p soon (tho probs not in the zoldyc arc like i thought bc its shorter than i thought) 

ok the fact that they have the internet is hilariously wild to me for some reason....it just seems like this would be one of those fantasy shounen worlds with very little tech (a la one piece) but lol nope we can just google shit hvbhjdhjdfks

gon: it was fun when you beat me up for 3 hours and broke my arm! seeya dude!

i love gon he is so chill and doesnt seem to hold grudges except when it really matters (like hisoka and illumi) 

hanzo has.....ninja business cards....thats amazing hvbhsdjkujfnd

dont worry pokkle, leorio was basically carried thru the hunter exam by various people and also won by default. he still deserves his license tho

an exotic game hunter sounds pretty cool! i wonder if we’ll see pokkle again. kinda doubt it? that sounds pretty firmly non-combat based, and therefore probably pretty far from any plot lol

so gons dad is a bigshot huh.....whatever hed be a bigger deal if he didnt abandon his son tbh 

gon swinging his feet on the bench....sooo cute 

so ging could restore a bunch of ruins but he couldnt raise his son...ok

im just gonna be bitter at this guy for abandoning the most perfect boy vhbhjfbsjhdhbfsk sorry dude but being a good hunter doesnt make up for being a shit father 

gon is so precious ;_; 

WHAT WAS SATOTZ GONNA SAY TO GON???

why does it look like theyre googling things on MS paint 

ah yes, padokea, on the continent of Africa But Sideways 

idk if i talked abt it before but the world map is WILD lmao i love how its all the continents/landmasses scrambled around.....im super curious abt that weird island in the top center of the map, thats the only thing that immediately sticks out as not having a real life equivalent 

the music in this show is so charming :’) i love the main theme sm 

gon is sooo precious i literally cant get over it. and his hurry to rescue killua is so sweet....and i love how naturally charming/charismatic gon is....pretty much everyone he meets likes him, especially leorio and kurapika, who basically adopted him after knowing him for like a day, and continue to be completely taken by him

ok wtf is satotz & co talking abt......do they know something abt ging that they arent allowed to tell gon???? shouldnt gon have access to the same info now that hes a hunter? i need ANSWERS

i bet this whole thing abt the hunter exam not rlly being over is a metaphor abt the hunter exam NEVER truly ending bc youre always being tested, or st

ok the ED continues to be So Much like especially the last shot where the 4 main characters look like theyre posing for a JC Penny catalog while the singer goes FULL metal-screamo

ok ruth and i just rewatched the next two eps woohoo

i love that there are tourist busses that take people to the front gates so they can like pose for pics and stuff vhbhjafdsfkj and its like ‘ah yes here are where the local assassins live!’ thats so funny yet it makes so much sense

i love that leorio passed tf out during the bus ride. big big mood 

gon is so cute...hes like ok yes i understand that we’re not supposed to go in but i think they can make an exception for me bc im very polite. 

those 2 dudes r so ugly and so dead god bless

that bigass buster sword....sir please 

ruth and i rlly thot that the old guard guy was gonna turn out to be grandpa zoldyk or st lol

the fact that the dog managed to eat All their flesh but left some clothes....skill 

also the dog is named mike but it sounds like the guy is calling him miku hvbjdfssk

this cant be the first time some morons have been killed here likeeee 

i cant believe nobody has visited the zoldyk estate in 20 years damn they all rlly b havin no friends. depressing 

the whole gates thing is wild. also that part where gon gets the math wrong on the weight.....BIG mood kiddo 

ok the part where gons on the phone w/the butler is soooo good oh man. i love how gon just calmly dials the phone again after hes hung up on the first time and then YELLS....and leorio and kurapikas faces r so good 

also the butler guy unfortunately has a point, it isnt foolproof that gon is here Legit....but he IS let him see his tiny bf :( 

as ruth pointed out, the butler guy is reminiscent of kuro from one piece. same vibes 

maybe if leorio was jacked like he is in the manga/1999 anime he couldve opened the gate that first time around....Ls 

god i love this shows approach to Everything so far,....as ruth put it, half the time its like ‘oh wow they should do [x]/i wish theyd do [x] but ofc they wont cause its a shounen’ but then they DO do [x] and its like damn thats dope 

anyways i love how gon is increasingly approaching situations with his Plucky Shounen Protag Attitude in full swing, and he pretty much gets shot down every time. BUT his general determination to see killua bc killuas his FRIEND and hes gonna RESCUE HIM is still a good and pure motivating force 

like here, when hes climbing over the wall and hes like whatever i dont wanna have to deal w/being tested thats bullshit, i wanna see killua, my intentions are pure, im gonna try my luck with the dog....i was like ok yeah he’ll get over and like tame or defeat the dog and the guard will be suitably impressed bc nobodys ever done That before, and then gon will continue on to get killua 

but NOPE instead the guard calls him down and explains that gon Will Die if he tries that, and then the guard will die too for letting that happen. and gon is like oh shit my actions have consequences for people other than me, wow. 

and THEN the guard takes them in to meet the dog. and hot DAMN that is a scary creature. not even really a dog tbh. they did an excellent job making the dog Legit Scary and not just like, big and flashy looking....those eyes are so soulless, and the proportions are freaky 

and the guard says exactly what i was thinking - that gon would use his Country Boy Woodland Creature Skills to workaround the dog....but then the subversion - this creature is NOTHING like the woodland critters gon is probably used to dealing with. theres no way gon stood a chance here. the guard just saved him from a really unfortunate death 

i love all the Super Heavy Stuff in the servant house that seems so inconvenient vbhjdkfasjfld. also forgot to mention earlier but the guard guy being Absolutely Ripped was wild and kinda funny 

training montage! gon continues to be so cute. and i love so much how leorio and kurapika are like no, you rest, we’ll take care of this. good parents!!!!

and then!!!! they sync up and use the power of gay love to almost open the gate. but then gon uses the power of Improbable Shounen Protag Healing Speed to toss that arm sling off and help out

i feel like leorio was side-eyeing gon like w8 a sec u broke that arm like a few days ago that aint right.....

oh man i almost forgot abt that scene with the zoldyks torturing killua :( :( this poor kid he doesnt deserve that 

also mom zoldyck seems truly awful but i must say her aesthetic does fuck. the victorian-lookin outfit paired with the futuristic cyclops visor thing....excellent. also im betting this face bandages are from killua cutting her face 

this family is so fucked up hvbsjdhjfbakdfn

killua telling his mom that gon is definitely gonna make it there :’) hes got such unshakable faith in his bf thats so good.....

back w/the gang, and immediately they run into more trouble in the form of the young girl butler, whose name i dont know, but i love her....her design is SO good oh man. a non-caricature black person? who also isnt sexualized? in MY anime??????

 i love how gons approach to conflict is currently ‘let more powerful person beat me up for hours straight in hopes that they get tired or something idk bro’ like....i love him lol, is it in an effort to show how determined he is? he doesnt even try to dodge her blows or get around her....id be tryin to hop that fence lol 

oh shit the tiny zoldyk kid from earlier is spying on them....she was w/the mom so im sure thats not good

when he punches the rock part and it breaks....strong boiiii 

oh man that little flashback from when killua first came back and told her that he made a friend ;_; bruh 

i love butler girl :( she wants to let gon but knows it isnt allowed....and as soon as she starts to waver BAM here comes mom zoldyck JFC that was so sudden and jarring....im assuming butler girl isnt dead cause that would be lame and anticlimactic 

also IS THAT NEN??? NEN>>>??? NEN??? HM? NEN????????? 

im so annoying abt nen i need to make one of those ‘is this a pigeon?’ memes w/’is this nen?’ bc thats me anytime anything remotely weird happens lmao

i do think its rlly nen this time tho

anyways shit is wild, cant wait to meet the full zoldyck family 

PREDICTION CORNER: 

as i said above i doubt hisoka will show up now bc this arc is a lot shorter than i anticipated. also im doubting that illumis even gonna show up honestly 

i think we’re gonna have this OP for a while, as the part just at the end shows gon and hisoka fighting in what looks to be an arena, and ik the next arc is the heavens arena arc, which im assuming is the tournament arc....

also i have no idea what that weird building in the OP is but my guess is that its the building w/the heavens arena in it bc its tall and,,,,heaven 

i predict there wont be much fighting in this little arc bc how tf else is it so short. at this point i rlly think gon is just gonna grab killua and go lmao. im super curious abt how thats gonna go down, considering that killua is currently strung up just bc he wont apologize...so i cant imagine his family would just let him leave w/gon. i wonder if killua will fight them, or if gons determination will impress them and then theyll let killua go (doubt it)

thats basically it....we’ll see abt the next few eps holla

#lj watches hxh #hxh #woohoo continuation

[doubletriplepowerbomb]

Caveman

Roman Reigns x OC: highschool! AU

Request for anon

A/N: Oh lord hello. Okay I know I’ve been dead but I’m back and this is only chapter one! I promise it gets better after this. I tried a thing so bear with me please. Anyway. Enjoy chapter one of Caveman :)

Word count: 5050+

Warnings: angst and swears

Tags: @jenn0755 @zappyzoodle @disturbthepearls @lost-in-the-stories @lithesxx @racingandreigns @rocketgirl2410 @vebner37 @therianfurry46 @littlelunaticfringe @finnbalorlover21 @winged-time-criminal @mrsnegan25 @xfirespritex @wefunloveruniverse @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

Everyone had the same answer if you asked them to describe Roman Reigns. Athletic, but stupid. Popular, but alone. Girls thought he was hot, but they were scared of him. He’s a giant. A 6’3”, 200-something pound monster who plays football and lacrosse and is known to be extremely violent. They say he has no concept of other people’s pain. He’s dumb as a brick wall and doesn’t know his own strength. A mindless soldier, who’s getting into college on a sports scholarship.

But that’s what everyone said. I just had a really hard time believing it. Sure, I’ve seen him play football and lacrosse. I go to all the games, I take the pictures for the yearbook. But even if I didn’t have to go to all the games, I’d still go. I watch Roman play. He racks up a lot of penalties per game, but it’s because his coach only tells him to hit whoever gets in the way. And he hits hard. I just had a feeling that there was no way Roman could only be what everyone says he is.

I kept my distance from him though. I smiled in the hall and sent him the pictures of him that I took. I kept to myself though, I didn’t want to ever give up how madly in love with him I was. He didn't seem to be distracted by girls though. I would hear his father screaming at him from the sidelines, he would never allow Roman to have a girlfriend while he was in season. I wasn’t trying to be his girlfriend, I was just crushing on him. Hard. I had been since middle school.

And I was very good at keeping my distance these past few years. Until the first day of our senior year, he approached me in the hall. It was the first time I had seen real emotion in his grey eyes. I saw fear.

“Lindsey.” He began as I paused my music and pulled my headphones out. “I need your help.” I nodded for him to continue. I didn’t talk much, to anyone. “I need a tutor, bad. You have straight A’s right?” His voice was desperate.

“You want me to tutor you?” He nodded his head and put on a hopeful grin. It melted me right away and I said yes. I knew it was a bad idea, but he intrigued me. I’d learn more about him this way I guess.  

He explained to me that his low math grades would keep him out of his senior year football season. I nodded along but I didn’t really believe him. Mr. Ruiz was the athletic director at Lakeside High School and all he cared about was football and boys lacrosse. Both sports Roman played and had varsity spots in as a freshman. I didn’t believe that with such a biased program, anyone would ever tell Roman Reigns he couldn’t play. But I didn’t question him. I simply told him that I could tutor him during lunch or after school. He asked me this on a Wednesday and we worked out that we’d start next week.

I went into my study hall that day bubblier than I should’ve been on the first day of school. My best friend Baron was sitting at a desk in the back and I skipped over to him. Baron had been one of my best friends since we were little. He was my first friend in elementary school and we’ve stayed close through high school. We’re even going to prom together. Not because we like each other, but because we made a pact. We mutually hate almost everyone else in our grade so we’re gonna go together, as friends. But prom is in June and it’s September so that didn’t matter too much.

“You’re kidding right?” Baron said. His voice lacked the enthusiasm I thought he’d have for me. “You’re gonna tutor that caveman?”

I kinda just stared at him for a little. His words shocked me. Baron has always made fun of me for having a crush on Roman. He always found it funny that I would like someone so dumb. But despite the teasing, Baron was my best friend. And he knew that ever since 6th grade I’ve had a crush on Roman. After a long silence on my part, I spoke up. “Are you not happy for me?”

“Happy for you? Lindsey, I’m gonna start planning your funeral.” I didn’t respond. I just scrunched my nose. “He’s gonna get mad about math or something else he can’t understand and take it out on you. To him, everyone is just someone he can hit. Look I know you can hold your own, but you can’t against him.”

What the hell is he talking about? Is he really scared for my well being? I’m tutoring someone, not going into boxing. I didn’t argue with him. I didn’t want to get into a fight with my best friend over a boy I’m tutoring. So I agreed with him. I told him he was right and I told him that I’d tell Roman to find another tutor.

Except, I didn’t agree. And I didn’t tell Roman.

The rest of the week went by normally; ice breakers, class syllabuses, and basic assignments to get you into the swing of things. I blatantly lied to Baron though. He thinks I’m not tutoring Roman. Luckily, Baron doesn't have lunch when Roman and I do and I’ll just have to keep my composure in study hall.

Friday night came quickly and Lakeside had its first football game. Roman played but rumors went around the bleachers that he wasn’t supposed to. There were also rumors that he had a tutor so he’ll be able to play. Nobody knew that tutor was me, so everything was fine.

The weekend flew by quickly and I got a text from Roman after 3rd period on Monday. Can we study in the library today at lunch? I texted back yes and watched the clock as I got closer and closer to 6th period.

The bell signalling the end of 5th period finally rang and I practically jumped out of my seat. I get to spend a whole period alone… with Roman Reigns, the most gorgeous boy in school. Despite me wanting to sprint, I walked as slowly as I could to the library. I wanted him to get there first.

When I got there he was sitting at a back table in the corner, devouring a sandwich. I smiled and walked over to him. He looked up from his sandwich and smiled with a closed mouth. He waved me over and finished chewing before I sat down. “Hey, sorry about the library. I won’t be able to focus in the cafeteria. All the football guys are kinda on my ass about the whole tutor thing.” I think that was the most I’ve ever heard him speak. His voice was extremely quiet, despite screaming on the football field. I guess he was just shy in school because he wasn’t comfortable.

“It’s no problem, so, what are we doing?” I asked with a smile. I got the feeling that everyone who had spread and believed those rumors about him had never actually spoken to him.

“Uh, we’re graphing functions… I think.” I knew that’s what he was doing. I took pre-calculus last year when I was a junior. I saved all my notes and everything from that class. Roman pulled out his folder and opened to the notes he took. They were probably the worst notes I had ever seen. I didn’t want to change his whole system though so I got my notes out from last year and opened to the first section: graphing functions.

The 45 minute lunch period went by quickly, but Roman was able to semi-understand what happened in class today and get his homework done.

A week went by and nothing changed. During 6th period we’d sit alone together and I’d help him and that was the only interaction we ever had. I’d see him in the hallway and make eye contact with him but I never got anything from him. No smile, no nod, no acknowledgement. I didn’t really mind too much though. It's not like I was expecting a high school rom-com.

Okay… maybe I wanted that… but I knew it wasn’t gonna happen.

Roman had a quiz on Friday and if he failed it, he wouldn’t play in his game that night. That was the system Roman’s math teacher worked out with Mr. Ruiz. If he fails a test, he can’t play in the game that comes after it. It was an odd system but I didn’t want to put my nose where it didn’t belong, so I didn’t ask.

I waited with Roman in the hallway after his first math quiz, his teacher handed him his test with a frown. Originally, I thought the frown meant that Roman failed but when I looked at his grade I saw a 78. A 78 was a C, he passed. Why was the teacher frowning? And why did he look so pissed off when he handed Roman his test?

I quickly forgot about his teacher’s face when I felt Roman’s warm hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for helping me pass. I’ll see you at the game. We’re playing Shoreview. It’s gonna be a good game, you’ll get some good pictures.” His hand fell from my shoulder and his fingers brushed my arms, leaving goosebumps in their path. And with that, we went our separate ways.   

This week, the rumors about Roman and his tutor still swirled, except this time, I was included.

“I heard Lindsey is his tutor…”

“Nuh uh, she isn’t just his tutor…”

“He definitely fucks her…”     

“I’d fuck him…”

“I don't understand how she isn’t afraid of him…”

“I think he’s terrifying…”

“Everyone thinks he’s terrifying…”

“Lindsey doesn't…”

“I see them at the library every day during lunch…”

“I’ve seen them make out under the stairs…”

I rolled my eyes, everyone was so stupid. It was almost like they wanted me to hear them. But thank god Baron wasn’t at this game. He would’ve been pissed. And okay, I knew Baron was gonna find out eventually, but I just didn't want to tell him yet. I knew he’d get mad and I didn't feel like dealing with that.

This Friday’s game was great too. Roman played incredibly and it was pretty apparent that he was needed on the team. I was starting to see why he wanted a tutor so badly. I was also starting to see how much I was letting my “little crush” affect me. As I was going back through the pictures I took of that game all I could see was number 96. 80% of my pictures were of Roman. I felt so stupid. I was so caught up with watching him play I only took pictures of him. Obviously, other players were in them, but in most of them, he was centered.

I sent the photos out anyway, but I didn't send Roman every single one of the photos I took. I couldn't, there were too many.

The weekend flew by like usual and I was back in school. Monday morning was boring but after school got exciting. I heard the buzz in 4th period, apparently there was a fight in the hallway. One kid got his ass kicked and other got suspended. Roman was the kid who got suspended. I heard that the other kid was talking shit about him and he kicked his ass before getting pulled off of him by a gym teacher. Roman went straight to the principal’s office and got suspended for 3 days.

Almost exactly as the bell to end fourth period rang, I got a text from Roman. Hey Lindsey can we study at your house tonight? I got suspended. I wasn’t surprised, I had already heard the rumors. Yeah I heard, what happened? And yeah no problem. You can come at 6. My phone buzzed again with Roman’s explanation. This dumbass junior was talking shit. Kinda lost my temper I guess. I scoffed, yeah kinda.

I was walking to study hall and I saw Baron smiling to himself while going through his phone. ��What are you all smiley about?” I asked once finally reaching his desk.

Baron looked up from his phone and smirked at me. “Your caveman got suspended today. He got into a fight with an underclassmen.” I rolled my eyes, why was he so happy that Roman got suspended? “Aren’t you glad you don’t tutor him? He could have beaten the shit out of you.” I didn’t argue, I just nodded my head. Telling Baron that I knew Roman would never hit me probably wouldn’t do anything positive for the situation, so I kept my mouth shut.

As the day dragged on, the rumors about Roman got worse. First, he beat up a junior for talking shit. Then it was a sophomore for being an asshole. But as people got increasingly more bored, the rumor made Roman look worse and worse. By the end of the day Roman had apparently beaten a freshman that got lost to a pulp. They said that the freshman got beaten so bad that the staff couldn't even recognize who he was. I rolled my eyes upon hearing all of these. Roman told me what happened, but I couldn’t argue anyone so I didn’t.

At 6:03, my doorbell rang. Something about this made my heart race. I don’t know why I cared so much about this. Roman Reigns is a complete dipshit. I had no idea why should I care about him but I did. Roman didn’t seem to be as eager as I was about this. I had a smile on my face when I opened the door, but seeing his stoic expression made my face straighten.

“Hey Roman.” My voice was light and happy. Roman’s voice was deep and monotonous. He did not sound happy to be here. “So what are we doing tonight?” I asked, leading him to the kitchen.

“I don’t know. pre-calc?” He sounded incredibly pissed off. Almost like if someone broke is pencil he’d flip his shit.

“Pre-calculus? Like everything we’ve done so far?” My voice dropped out when I saw his face. He was serious. He didn’t really understand pre-calculus.

“Yes. Lindsey.” I couldn’t help but stare at him, I couldn't believe how anyone could be so dumb, I’ve been tutoring him for two weeks now and he hasn’t retained anything. “What. You think it’s funny? I’ve had a tutor for weeks now and I’m still failing!”

“Well, Roman you have to try. You can’t expect to magically get good grades just because you have a tutor now.” I said sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Well that’s what happens with all the other guys.” Roman was mumbling. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Huh?”

Roman rolled his eyes at me. How does she not know? “Every other guy on the team who needed a tutor picked someone who would do the work for them.” I creased my eyebrows. “C'mon you’re smart. How do you not know this?” His tone of voice was snappy.

“Well I figured you cared about your grades.” I was starting to see why he chose me. Did he think I would do it because I like him?

“I don’t give a shit about my grades, Lindsey. I wanna play football. And I can’t. I still can’t. Cause you haven’t helped.” Roman still hasn’t sat down.

“What is your definition of helping?” I asked, my voice raised.

“Do the work for me. Help me cheat. C’mon you got a crush on me don't you?” He seemed unphased. Like the words spilling from his mouth weren’t wrong.

“You’re kidding.” I said. I stood up and walked around the kitchen table. “You really think that I’m one of those spineless girls who will do favors for you because you’re an attractive football player? I could be doing anything else but I’m here trying to help you, not because I have a crush on you, but because I thought you needed help.” I was moving towards him as I spoke. He still didn’t seem phased. At all.

“This isn’t a favor for a friend. We aren’t friends, Roman. We’ve barely spoken before this year and you’re still a dick. You ask me for my help and I genuinely wanted to help you. Now you come to me saying ‘oh I’m too stupid to do this so can you?’ You have a person who understands the topic and is good at teaching it and you still can’t do jack shit.” I was now standing face-to-face (more like face-to-chest) with Roman. I tried my best to be assertive, but it was difficult. He stood 8 inches above me and he was a hell of a lot bigger. Roman’s broad shoulders, his dark hair and features paired with his size made him look intimidating. I tried to stay strong though.

Roman looked down at me with a smirk. “What are you gonna do? Not tutor me? There goes your extra credit.”

I laughed, I didn’t mean to laugh, but I did. “You seriously didn’t just say that. You really just threatened me? Try to use that brain of yours and tell me, do you really think I need that extra credit? Take your time now, I wouldn’t want you blowing a fuse up there.”

“You wouldn’t not tutor me.” He said smugly. He was so stupid.

“You’re sure?” I smiled sweetly. I could feel my blood boiling.

“Certain.” His smirk made me want to punch him in the face. Idiot. I pushed myself away from him and walked towards the door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not tutoring you. You’re a fucking idiot who doesn’t deserve my time.” I undid the top lock on the front door, not breaking eye contact with Roman.

“Without me, the school will barely have a team.” He was threatening me. Seriously.

“You think I give a shit about our school’s football team?” I opened the bottom lock. “You think I’ll be sad to see you fail? It’ll be great to see reality punch you in the face” I turned the doorknob. “You’re an egotistical douchebag and you don’t deserve me or my time at all!”

“You’re attracted to me.” He paced towards me. The smirk on his face was so hot and so fucking annoying at the same time. I hoped he couldn't tell how overwhelmed I was. 

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, caveman. You ain’t shit.” God I prayed I wasn’t blushing. I would die if he knew. He’s a complete douchebag and the single most vain, egotistical, stubborn... muscular, gorgeous, convincing, hypnotizing, perfect… what the fuck? Where am I? He noticed I was trailing off, he got closer, he smelled wonderful. “Ugh Roman get out!” I pressed my hands to his chest and shoved as I yelled. Holy shit he was muscular. Ugh, Lindsey, pull yourself together!

I slammed the door on him and pressed my back against the closed door. I felt something sinking in my gut. I was feeling disappointment. I don’t know maybe I just hoped- I hoped. I’m just as much of an idiot as he is.

A week passed. I haven’t spoken to or even seen Roman since that night. He failed his math quiz on Wednesday and he sat the bench during that Friday night’s football game. The rumors swirled around the bleachers.

“I heard he cheated on her…”

“I heard she flipped on him for no reason…”

“That’s what I heard…”

“I heard he hit her...”

“I heard she got a restraining order…”

I didn’t answer to anyone’s whispers. I was too busy looking at Roman on the bench. I saw his face, he looked miserable. I felt guilty but I quickly shook it off. He chose me because he thought I was a stupid girl with a crush who would do his work for him. He deserves to be on the bench. Unsurprisingly, Lakeside didn’t win that game. Our QB got sacked multiple times and we just didn't have the intensity and strength that we needed. It probably would've been different if Roman was playing. He knew it. The team knew it. Everyone knew it.

We made eye contact after the game. He looked sorry but I didn’t care. I looked at him with a smirk and shrugged my shoulders. I saw his face get angry. He walked away from the bench and walked quickly towards me.

He shoved through the remaining cheerleaders and stood at the fence.

I spoke before he could. “How was the bench, caveman?” I asked raising my eyebrows.

“Fuck you.” He said. His voice was loud, not many people were left. Most of the students left before the game ended.

I had an evil smirk on my face. “Geez, I was just asking a question.” I put my hands up in defense. I turned away from him and began walking to the parking lot. I didn’t have any car to go to, I just wanted to walk away.

“Lindsey!” His voice was even louder than before. I turned around to see him jogging towards me, he was fuming.

“What’s up, Roman? Was the wording of my question too hard for you to understand?” My voice dripping with sarcasm and fake concern.

“You’re a pretentious cunt, you know that.” His tone was icy and his words seemed to bite me. “A fucking bitch with a stick so far up her ass-” his words cut off as my hand slapped him across the cheek.

What nerve he had saying that shit to me? He used me and I’m the cunt? Dickhead. I didn’t know what was going through my head other than that I hated him. My face was furious and I drew my hand backwards. I felt absolutely no control in my body and I slapped him. Hard. Everything happened so fast and I had no clue what I was doing until it was too late.

My eyes widened and I slapped my hand over my mouth. His head barely moved, he just stared into my soul with cold, grey eyes. I lost my angry demeanor and felt fear rise from my gut.

“Roman.” I didn’t even know what to say. Despite what everyone said, in the two weeks I tutored him I had never once thought he was going to hurt me. But in this moment, I was convinced he was gonna beat the shit out of me.

I saw him smile and lick his lips. I backed up until I felt my back hit a wall. Roman put his large hands on both sides of me. He leaned more of his weight on his arms, his eyes still looked dead and I was getting increasingly more scared.

I closed my eyes and braced myself against the wall. I wasn’t expecting a punch or kick or anything but I was expecting to get hurt. Except I didn’t feel anything, maybe I was already dead. I peaked out of a half closed eye after a few long seconds then opened both my eyes completely, Roman was gone. I saw him trudging across the turf.

Roman realized what he was doing before his hand made contact with me. I didn’t notice him sigh and drop his hands to his sides before turning and walking up to the locker room. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Dude, what the fuck? I almost hit her! She’s a girl and I almost hit her! She gives up her time for my sorry ass and I called her a cunt. I deserved that fucking slap. Fuck. He was also beginning to figure out that he was gonna need a tutor still, and that I was one of the few people willing to tutor him.

I turned to the parking lot and noticed Baron’s car in the lot. Oh shit. As I walked closer I noticed he was standing outside the door. “Lindsey what the fuck was that?” He was not happy.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“I wanted to make sure you had a ride home. Now answer me, what the hell was that. Why was Roman about to kill you?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” I said. My answer seemed to piss Baron off.

“What the hell does that mean?” He snapped. I wasn’t expecting him to snap at me.

“I don’t know. I literally thought he was gonna hit me, but he walked away.”

“No Lindsey I saw that. I saw everything. Why was he there. Why are you even talking to him?” He was asking but I had a feeling that he knew.

“Well, I might be tutoring him.” I said quickly and quietly. Baron stopped short and I smacked my nose on my knee. “Ow Baron, what the fuck.”

“You’re tutoring him?!” Baron yelled. “Even after what I said!” My mind raced and my heart was still pounding after being convinced I was gonna get beaten by Roman Reigns. It was definitely not pounding because he was so close. That's totally not it.

Okay… maybe that was a part of it. But just a part.

Baron didn’t talk to me the rest of the way home and he didn't come inside when he dropped me off. He told me he didn’t want to see me tonight then drove off.

A few minutes later, I heard a knock at the front door. I figured it was Baron but then I realized that Baron doesn’t knock anymore. I got up from my spot on the couch and opened the door.

Dude. Leave. This is so weird. She probably isn't even home. No. I can’t sit out of another game. This was the worst night of my life.

I felt my stomach flip when I saw him in the doorway. He was still wearing jersey but instead of his football pants he was wearing sweatpants. His long black hair was pulled to the back of his head into a bun. His hair wasn’t as perfect as usual, it seemed like he did it in a rush. God, Lindsey, shut up about his hair. 

“What the hell do you want?” I asked. A part of me was happy to see him. A part of me was always happy to see him.

“I wanted to say sorry.” Roman’s voice was quiet and he sounded sincere. But I couldn’t believe him. I wanted to. But I couldn’t.

“Funny.” I said before closing the door. Roman’s hand against the door thudded loudly and he was beyond strong enough to hold it open.

“Gimme a week.” Roman said quickly. “A week… you tutor me and I’ll try and if I don’t get above a C on my tests you don’t ever have to deal with me again. I’ll leave you alone forever.”

I pursed my lips. I knew I was going to agree to his terms. But I didn't want to.

“Please, Lindsey. I know I was an asshole but I didn't pick you because I thought you had a crush on me, I swear. I picked you because you’re nice. I’m an idiot, everyone knows it. People are scared of me, but you aren’t…” he noticed I was trying to close the door again. “Please.” his voice raised and his tone got increasingly more desperate. “I can’t sit out of anymore games. I know you don't care but I really need to play. I wont get into college if I don't. I’ll try to do work I promise.”

Honestly I was gonna let him in a few sentences into his apology, but I wanted to hear what he was gonna say. I groaned and stood aside, letting him walk inside. Relief overtook Roman’s face and his features softened as he walked inside. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. I know what you just said, but you expected me to do all your work. I’m not gonna do that. I’m not an idiot with a crush. I’m not gonna do all your shit. You’re gonna try. And you’re also gonna explain what kind of system you have going right now cause it doesn't make sense. What did you work out with your teacher and Mr. Ruiz about you playing?” I didn't care about being nosy anymore. He pissed me off and I was gonna do whatever I wanted.

“Oh. Well, last year I had the same teacher, Mr Barnes. He hated me last year too. I didn't do any work and I failed a lot of my tests. He was pissed because our school doesn't really enforce the whole “low gpa-no sports” rule, especially with Mr. Ruiz. So this year, on the first day of school, Mr Barnes held me after class and told me that if I don't start doing better in his class I won’t be able to play. I didn't believe him at first but then Mr. Ruiz came in. He looked at me like he was sorry for me, like he thought he disappointed me or something. He explained everything, he’d lose his job if he didn’t enforce the rule, so they compromised. I have to start passing my tests, and if I don’t, I don't play.”

I looked around my living room and I hated myself for thinking the way I was. Everything was normal except for the gorgeous boy on my couch and I felt bad for him. It was Roman’s senior year and football really was his only way into college. I also had the biggest crush on him. I know. I know. I said I wasn’t a “spineless girl who would do favors for an attractive football player” but I kinda was. I didn't want to be. But I couldn't help it. “Fine. I’ll help you. But I’m serious, if I notice you're not trying or I find out you cheated, I’m not tutoring you. I will not do your work and you will not take me for granted. Deal?”

I couldn’t describe Roman’s expression, other than it being the cutest thing I had ever seen. I tried not to melt as he nodded at me. He was staring at me attentively with a grin on his face. I hated myself for giving in so easily. I hated myself for being so pathetic.

He picked me to tutor him because he thought I had a crush on him and I would do his work for him. He called me a cunt. But he came to my house and apologized and I melted at his feet. Ugh. 

I hated Roman Reigns. That caveman is gonna be be the death of me. I swear it.

A/N: okay I know it seems one sided right now but in chapter 2 someone else catches some feelings ;)))

part 2

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #angst #WWE #highschool #au #Baron Corbin #OC #roman reigns x oc #chapter 1 #caveman

[calpalirwin]

According to Plan

A/N: They’re back together! Now what?

And away, and away we go!

~~~

Chapter 12

Ashton

~~~

Madison and I fell back into our pattern, quickly making up for the week we had missed out on.

With the windows rolled down and the music cranked up, I drove our way up to the lake one weekend to make good on a promise that seemed so old now, but it was really only a few weeks ago when we had laid on that dock at Ryan Cooper’s party.

I sang along to the radio as the wind whipped at our faces. Madison had her blonde hair pulled back to keep her hair out of her face. I reached over to grab her hand. She looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back and squeezed her hand, still amazed that she was mine.

I had no sooner parked the truck before she was bounding out towards the water. She stripped her flannel off, before peeling off her tank top. Then, she shimmed out of her shorts and kicked off her sandals before running on the dock. She turned at the edge to smile at me. I bit my lip, taken aback by how good she looked standing there. Hurry up! She beckoned me with her finger.

I jogged over, kicking off my sandals and taking off my shirt. A thought popped into my head, and as I got to where she was I wrapped my arms around her, letting my momentum throw us into the water.

We came up gasping for air, laughing. Ashton Fletcher Irwin, she pretended to scold me, you are, without a doubt, the craziest boy I have ever met. She wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Madison Grace Clifford,” I told her, “I’ll have you know that I was perfectly sane until you came into my life.”

She let go of me to sign. Oh, so this is my fault?

“Absolutely,” I nodded. “And I’ve loved every second.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the water, or laying on the dock catching our breath. Before the school year was over, we made several more trips; sometimes on our own, sometimes with everybody else.

With May rapidly approaching, the school hallways were flooded with posters advertising the upcoming Prom. Like with every school dance before, I asked Madison if she wanted to go, half hopeful but knowing that she would respond the way she had all year: It’s just a waste of money and time. I can’t hear. Yet, still hoping that she’d change her mind, I nodded at a poster as we walked the halls. “Hmm, Prom… Do you wanna go?”

She looked at the poster, then back at me. I braced myself for the typical blow off response. You’re gonna have to ask better than that. She grinned at me, taking me by surprise.

“Wait, what? Seriously? You’ll go?”

She shrugged, with the smile still on her face. Maybe…

The next day, I got to school early to decorate her locker and buy us tickets. I leaned against the wall and waited for her. At 8:40 sharp, she walked through the doors at towards her locker. Spotting me, she smiled. Hey, she signed, kissing me. You’re here early.

“I had something to take care of,” I told her slyly.

She gave me a look and then opened her locker. A small disco ball spun around inside. The note I had stuck in her locker fluttered to the floor and she bent to pick it up.

Dance with me and have a ball? Or will I be lonely after all?

She laughed as she read my note. It rhymes!

“Well, what do you say?” I asked, showing her the two tickets.

Yes.

“You’ll go with me?” I asked, needing the clarification.

You only get one senior prom. Besides, who else would I go with?

I didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

With Prom figured out, we focused on studying for our AP tests that were coming up. We quizzed each other as we drove around town. Our textbooks crowded our lunch table and our table at the diner on Sundays.

The last day of AP testing we all went out to the diner to celebrate.

“It’s over!” Luke cheered.

“Thank God!” Sierra added, kissing Luke.

“You better pray for a good score on that Stats test or your mom’ll flip,” Calum said, pushing Luke’s shoulder.

“Please, I could do that one in my sleep,” Luke told him. “I’m a math genius, C-Swizz!”

“I bet Mads does better,” Calum taunted.

“Oh, you’re on,” Luke agreed, shaking Calum’s hand. “You better hit up the bank, Hood. That money’s as good as mine.”

“Ooo, Mads, you gonna let him talk smack on you like that?” Calum asked.

20 says you’re both wrong because Luke and I tie.

“Alright,” Calum nodding. “I’ll take that bet, Mads. You in, Lu?”

Luke shrugged, “All I’m hearing is that I'm getting 40 bucks.”

A week later, Calum and Luke each slapped down a $20 in front of Madison, both of them grumbling. Madison smiled and handed the money to Mike for safe-keeping. “How’d you know you’d tie?” I asked, once we had all stopped laughing.

I knew I couldn’t do worse than Luke because every test we’ve had we’ve either tied or been off by a single point. And no one can get higher a 5 on the AP test.

“Fuck, I forgot about that part… damn it!” Luke cursed while we all laughed again.

The next week, I stood in front of my mirror. I shrugged into my jacket and fixed my tie, giving myself one last look in the mirror. My tie made the flecks of gold in my eyes more pronounced, my mom and sister told me. My hair, which had always been unruly on the best days, was more manageable after I got it cut the day before in preparation. It wasn’t a haircut I normally got; I had always liked my hair to have some length to it, to keep its consistent “just got out of bed” look. But, I decided on a whim to do something a little more sophisticated for Prom. I had slicked back my shorter-than-usual hair with some styling product- again, thanks to my mom and sister. So far, I was liking the shorter length more than I expected.

I stood on her doorstep a few moments later, my heart pounding. I had the tickets in my jacket pocket, and her corsage in a box in my hand. With my free hand, I rapped on the door.

Madison opened the door in a stunning dark green dress that cut off mid-shin and showed off her shoulders. The green of her dress only enhanced the green in her eyes. “Wow… you look gorgeous,” I breathed.

You cut your hair, she responded. It looks good. You look good.

I felt my face flush. “Uh, here,” I said, fumbling with the corsage box and slipping it on her wrist.

Peony, my favorite! She twisted her wrist this way and that to look at the flower. Oh, I have yours, too. She disappeared inside and coming back out with a small rose with a gold ribbon wrapped around it. I’ve always hated roses, she admitted, as she tried to pin it on me. Always reminded me of funerals.

“I didn’t know that,” I said helping her pin it to my jacket. “Ready?” I asked, offering her my arm.

She nodded, smiling. Her parents called out reminders to take pictures and to call if we’d be out late as she closed the door behind her.

Oh, wow, it’s loud in here, she signed as we handed over our tickets and went inside the large ballroom. I can almost hear it myself.

I took her hand and led her onto the floor. We twirled in slow, lazy circles to the music. The ocean air that blew in from the open windows gave a nice breeze that broke up the hot stagnant air that came with the start of summer nights and too many bodies in one area.

I continued to twirl her around in circles as people appeared and disappeared beside us. The song and the interruptions didn’t matter. Tonight, we were two kids, in love, dancing on the beach, and that’s all we wanted to be.

About halfway through the night, the music stopped and someone stepped to the microphone “It’s time to announce this year’s King and Queen!” our student body president, Ryan Cooper, said while we cheered. “And our Prom King is…” a drumroll started and stopped, “Ashton Irwin!”

A spotlight hit me square in the face, causing Madison to flinch away. I kissed her cheek and went up to the stage to accept my crown.

“And for Prom Queen…”  Ryan said to another drumroll, “Claire Stevens!”

Claire stepped forward to get her crown. She smiled at me; a smile I had once loved to get lost in. My stomach churned and I wanted nothing more than to be back with Madison.

“Now, for the King and Queen dance!” Ryan announced, as a slow song started up.

Claire looked over at me and I took a deep breath. Deciding to be a good sport, I offered my arm to Claire and led her to the dance floor. I spun her half heartedly in circles, to the cheers of our fellow classmates, the spotlight shining down on us. 

I danced us closer to where Madison stood, a plan forming in my head. In one fluid motion, I spun Claire out away from me with one hand, and grabbed Madison with my other one, pulling Madison to me and leaving Claire by herself. Claire, embarrassed, smiled at our classmates who looked at me wondering what I would do next. No Prom King had ever ditched his Queen mid-dance to dance with his own date. Then again, most Prom Kings and Queens came together. I smiled, and shrugged as I continued to dance with Madison, who had rested her head on my shoulder. I caught Calum’s eye and without a thought, he grabbed Riley and started dancing with her next to us. Luke and Mike grabbed their girlfriends, following suit. So it was the eight of us, twirling around on the dance floor, surrounded by dumbfounded classmates, and a pissed off Claire.

When the song ended, we all stood there in the deafening silence. In an attempt to ease the situation, Ryan jumped on the mic. “Now, traditionally, the Prom King and Queen dance for the whole song, Irwin,” he fake scolded.

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah,” I told him back, “Well, this King prefers a Prom Queen that doesn’t cheat on him.” I took my crown off my head and tossed it at Ben Anderson, who stared at it as it clattered to the floor. “Consider it a parting gift, Anderson. To you and Claire. May you be the man that I don’t want to be.”

To cover the awkward silence, music started playing again. I looked down at Madison. “If you want, I rented a room.”

She looked at me with wide eyes. You got us a room?

“Not like that! Well… I mean, I thought about it. But, no, I got a room in case you were too uncomfortable here.”

It is a little crowded, she hinted.

I took her hand and led her upstairs. I dug around my jacket for the room key and let us in. The silence swallowed us as the door shut behind us. I shrugged off my jacket and laid it carefully on the edge of the bed. Madison sat down and undid the strap of her heels. She winced as her feet came free and she gave them a wiggle. “Sore feet?” I asked.

She nodded. I don’t wear heels.

“I know,” I said, sitting next to her.

She let out her breath in a huff. So, I know that there’s an unspoken expectation to have sex on Prom night. And, I’m not opposed to it. I’m still ready if you are. But, I think I should tell you something first.

“What is it?” I asked, pushing away the thoughts of sex she had just put in my head.

It’s about Yale. I know we thought we’d spend the summer together, but I actually have to be there a week after graduation for summer courses. There are some prerequisites I want to get out of the way so I can actually graduate in two years.

“Oh…” I said, not knowing what else to say. We hadn’t really talked about college since our fight. We knew the distance would be a challenge, but we also thought we’d have the summer together. Summer classes hadn’t even crossed my mind.

Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. They have financial aid just for summer, and I didn’t think I would get it, but I did. So, I was able to register for some classes.

“That’s great,” I said, choking on air.

Are you okay? Her face was half-concerned and half-sad.

“Yeah. I mean, that’s really cool. For you. I’m happy for you. But, it kinda sucks on my end.”

I’m sorry if you’re mad, but I have to go. Unless… should I stay?

“I’m not mad. I’m a little upset, but I’m not mad. But, if you’re looking for me to tell you to stay, I won’t do it. I won’t be the reason you don’t go to Yale. You wanted to go to Yale longer than you’ve known me, and I’ll be damned if you give up that dream for a summer with me. I’m not worth giving up Yale, Mads. I’m not.” As much as it sucked on my end, I wouldn’t be the reason she gave up on Yale. I knew if the tables were turned, she’d ship me to Duke herself if it ever came down to her or Duke. And it didn’t have to be either or, did it? We could both go to our dream schools and have each other, couldn’t we?

I can take longer to graduate… she signed, starting to compromise.

I shook my head. “No. The sooner you graduate, the sooner we get that apartment.”

I’ll miss you...

“I’ll visit,” I promised, wiping away her tears that were starting to spill down her cheeks.

Her breath came out in a shuddery sigh. Okay. Enough college talk. Tonight, I just want you. I don’t want to think about what happens tomorrow, or in a month from now, or three months from now. Tonight, I just want to think about tonight. And tonight, I’m at my senior prom; and I’m alone in a hotel room with the boy that I love. She reached up and undid the knot on her dress. I watched breathless as it fell to the floor and she got under the covers.

We took our time, memorizing every inch of each other’s skin. Tonight, there was no one or anything else besides her, me, and the bed holding us steady.

We lay in bed, under the covers, her head on my bare chest, both of us catching our breath. After a moment, she rolled her body onto mine and looked at me. I don’t want this to change anything between us. I still want to play videogames and watch you work on cars and all that stuff. I like this… sex. But, I don’t want it to become the only thing we do.

“The only thing this changes is that now I know I’ll always love you.”

I’m going to love you forever.

Two weeks later, during the second week of June, we graduated. Due to the alphabetical order, we were all scattered in our seats, but Madison managed to be seated right in front of me. 

She looked elegant, somehow more grown up, in her dark green cap and gown. I looked at her feet and took notice of the sandals she had first worn to church all those months ago. She looked back at me at smiled. I smiled back and adjusted my own black cap and gown. I remembered her laughing as we bought our caps and gowns last week. It’s nice that they make the boys wear one color and the girls another, but who’s really gonna notice when it’s this dark of a green. I noticed, I wanted to tell her. The green made her green eyes that much more vibrant as they danced; much like her Prom dress had.

The stadium erupted in cheers when they finally announced us as graduates. People immediately ran off to find their families, or stood around taking pictures on their phones. I grabbed Madison’s hand and kept her close as we found our other friends. Pictures were taken and tears wiped away. The eight of us finally broke away from our families long enough to go celebrate at the diner.

Oh! Madison signed suddenly, digging through her bag. I almost forgot, I got you all presents!

“Presents?” the girls asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“Aw, Mads, you didn’t have to,” us boys told her.

Just take the damned present! her hands scolded. Out of her bag she produced 6 picture frames and 1 album. She passed the 6 picture frames around the table to everyone, finally handing me the album. So, I’ve never really had friends before. And, I wanted to thank you guys for all you’ve done for me this past year. I know we’re all going our separate ways here in a bit, but I wanted to give you guys all a reminder that you are all my best friends in the entire world.

Everybody glanced down at the picture in their hands- the eight of us dressed to the nines and grinning at Prom.

“It’s beautiful, Mads,” Sierra breathed, dabbing at her eyes.

“Fuck, Si, if you start crying so will I!” Riley scolded.

“Yeah, Mads, way to make the girls cry,” Luke choked.

“Wait, what did Ash get?” Calum asked, nodding at the album in my hands.

Something extra special. Madison smiled at me. Open it.

I opened the album to reveal picture after picture. Pictures of all of us either at the diner or in the Cliffords’ basement. Pictures of the soccer games. Pictures of me working in the shop that I didn’t know she had taken. Pictures of just me and her, grinning, laughing, kissing. A year of memories with my best friends and my best girl. I cleared my throat, “Thanks, Mads. This is beautiful. I love it.”

“Damn, this is amazing,” everyone marveled, getting lost in the memories and nostalgia of a year gone by too fast.

“This isn’t supposed to be sad,” Crystal interjected as I closed the album, dabbing at her eyes. “We just fuckin graduated. Let’s do something crazy!”

“Like what?” Sierra asked.

“We can start Grad Night early,” Luke suggested.

We closed down the amusement park, all of us scared for the future, but desperately clinging to the idea that we would always find our way back to each other. Eight teenagers trying to make these feelings last forever.

Madison and I had sex again that night in her bedroom. What are you thinking about? she asked, as we lay there, staring at each other, her lamp just bright enough for us to see each other without straining our eyes.

“Trying to figure out how to fit an entire summer into a week,” I answered truthfully.

You love me right? Her green eyes peered into my hazel ones.

“Always.”

Then we’ll make this work. It won’t be easy, but we’ll manage the distance until I can meet you at Duke.

After one of the most whirlwind weeks we ever had, I helped her pack up her things, then kissed her long and hard in her driveway. Her family was going with her to help her get settled before going up to Syracuse so Mike could look around before he went there in August. I was going up next week to spend the weekend with her. “Get settled and I’ll see you Friday,” I promised.

Friday, she repeated, nodding.

The week that followed her leaving was one of the longest in my life. I drove to the airport early Friday morning and hopped on a flight to New Haven. I was jittery the whole flight, wondering how the week had changed her.

Every fear I had got erased when I saw her standing there in the airport, scanning the crowd for me. The way her face lit up when she finally saw me made me know that this would all be worth it.

We barely left her little apartment that whole weekend. She talked nonstop about her classes, her new job, and how much she loved it here. Oh, Ash, it’s everything I ever hoped it would be!

“That’s great, Mads,” I told her.

So, how’s home?

“Lonely,” I admitted.

That was how we spent the summer. I flew out every other week to spend the weekend with her. She was too busy to fly out herself, but What do you expect, Ash, it’s Yale. You’ll be busy at Duke in a few weeks yourself.

After a weekend in bed with her, flying home to face the oncoming weeks without her slowly ate away at me. I kept busy in my dad’s shop, honing my skills. If I wasn’t at the shop, I was at the field practicing drills, praying my knee wouldn’t give out on me again. I spent time with our friends when I could. But, nothing I did seemed to ease the utter loneliness I felt at night without Madison.

In July, she surprised me by having everyone come out to her apartment for a surprise birthday party she had planned with Sierra for both Luke and I, and sort of as a last hurrah for our friend group before August made us part ways.

So, how does it feel to legally be an adult? she asked me once it was just us.

“Surprisingly normal,” I told her, echoing the words she had told me on her own birthday.

The last time I flew out, it was mid-August. We went out to celebrate both our one year anniversary and because when I got home I was packing up for Duke. It was the only time we had gone out besides to go the airport out of all the times I had visited. I was excited, but as I sat across from her at the table at the restaurant, the excitement faded as I slowly realized that I couldn’t keep doing this.

The next morning, we laid in her bed like we had every other Saturday I visited. I had been up all night watching her sleep, trying to figure out how to say goodbye without breaking her heart, or my own. It wasn’t that I wanted to break up necessarily. I just didn’t want to feel like I was holding her back. I didn’t want her to worry or miss me anymore. I didn’t want to worry or miss her anymore either.

Hey. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, yawning. What are you thinking about?

“About how I have to leave,” I told her, fighting against a sudden urge to cry.

Your flight’s not until tonight, she reminded me.

“That’s not what I mean.” My words barely registered in my own head.

Oh… was the response. You want to say goodbye for real, huh?

“I don’t know what else to do,” I whispered, before confessing everything I felt when I wasn’t with her. The loneliness I couldn’t shake. How I felt that when I visited, I was only making things worse for her. I wanted her to truly experience Yale, without worrying about me. That I would always love her, but right now, this was just too hard for me. “I’m so sorry,” I finally said, a tear rolling down my face. I went to wipe it away but her hand beat mine.

She gently rubbed her thumb across my cheek. I understand, she signed, keeping her face calm. This hasn’t been easy for me either. And I know it hasn’t been fair for you to always come up to visit me.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, not knowing what else to say.

There’s nothing to be sorry for.

“I know this means I risk losing you to someone else. All I ask is that you make sure he truly makes you happy. You’re too great to settle for anything less, so promise me you won’t.”

I promise. But, you gotta promise not to hold back on your own life. Go to Duke, and give them hell, Ash. You belong there more than anybody. Find your happiness, and don’t you ever settle for less than what you deserve.

“Promise,” I choked back tears. “I’ll always love you, you know that?”

I know, she smiled sadly. I’ll love you forever, too.

#according to plan #chapter 12 #ashton irwin #5sos #oh so that's what's next... #but wait! #story's not over yet! #galcal irwin

[linkeai]

that’s kinda hot → wang linkai / xiao gui ( nine percent ) → summary: summer school is fun, and at first, neither is the obnoxious boy who gets seated next to you who takes a weird liking to you. → warning(s): swearing, mentions of illness, canadian school terms? idfk → genre: fluff, the teensiest bit of angst → word count: 3,751 → notes: hi i love this and it may or may not be inspired by the boy i temporarily fell in love when i went to summer school :)

so... you suck at math

you knew you sucked at math pretty much your entire life, and you knew you were still going to suck this year when you started your grade 11 math class

but you didn’t think you sucked so bad that you would fail the class entirely

but, alas, thinking was not your strong suit

because your final mark in math 2201 was 32 :)

and you were NOT repeating a year, and you were not taking the god-awful supplementary exam, 

so summer school was pretty much the only option you had left

and your parents may as well have put a gun to your head with the way they said you had BETTER pass this time

bc summer school isn’t exactly cheap!!

so you went off with equal parts terror and determination in your heart

summer school was only a month long, and you’d already sort of done the course already

so you were feeling pretty good about your chances

until you arrived on the first day :)

the place was a janky looking middle school filled with people that divided into two groups;

group a) the ones like you who were already over it and just wanted to get your credits and get the hell out

and group b)… came in shouting at each other and being generally obnoxious and we’re treating it like they’d just arrived at the party

one boy in particular stood out to you.. not because he was probably the most obnoxious one in the bunch, but because he was kind cute even when he was screaming some nonsense

and as if it was your luck.. when you got sorted into your classes and took your seats, he plopped down right beside you

who in the name of god thought it was a good idea to have two seats pushed together in the rows in an actual summer school, you didn’t know

you just knew that when the teacher told you that these were your seats for the remainder of the month, he turned and gave you a grin that made you realize that there was, in fact, a fate better than summer school

and it was death

summer school is extremely fast paced so class started pretty much five minutes after you were seated

so you took out your notebook and your little pencil case and got ready to inject yourself with some mathematical knowledge

when this dude taps on your shoulder

you don’t even say anything you just like at him like don't you fucking dare ask for paper

and so he asks for some paper

and you’re like yeah man for sure! and tear out a few sheets and give it to him

he gives you the BIGGEST, the DUMBEST smile you have ever seen

and you would never in a hundred years admit that it made your heart do several things.

and the paper… the paper was your first mistake.

the teacher started explaining some of the topics of the first unit when he taps his pencil (thank god he at least had a pencil) on your desk

and you just.. fill with dread bc PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE I NEED TO LISTEN OR MY PARENTS WILL LITERALLY RUIN MY LIFE

and you’re like yeah… what….

and he asks what your name is 

and you’re like???? it’s y/n

and he does the smile again and … oof

he tells you his name is linkai and you just awkwardly bob your head and turn toward the front again

and linkai has the GALL to tap on your desk again and maybe you’re being a liiittle hot-tempered but in your head, its like W H AT THE FUCK DO YO U WANT DUDE

and this boy has the audacity to look you in the eyes and say “you’re kinda cute.”

your brain short-circuits at the same time your heart goes into overdrive

and you can’t really do much else but stare at him for a long minute and just as you’re about to answer him, you hear a loud yell from the front of the classroom.

“you two! is this gonna be a problem? seriously?”

“no ma’am!” the two of you say in perfect unison

and class carries on

the classes last about four-ish hours every day

and for the ENTIRE first day

linkai is doing sometHING to test your sanity

when he’s not humming, he’s drumming a beat on the desk,

when he’s not trying to make conversation with you, he’s whispering little side comments about the lesson 

and you’re too afraid to tell him to stfu because he’s still really hot and you’re a little intimidated

and this goes on for the next three days of the first week until you snap

he turns to you and he’s like, “y/n, your hair looks really good today.”

and you slowly turn, look him dead in the face and say very slowly; “if you don’t shut the fuck up, i’m going to beat you to death with this calculator”

the next few seconds pass like several eternities, where you revel in the thinly veiled shock and terror in his eyes

until a cheeky grin slowly spreads across his face, and he says, shamelessly;

“that’s kinda hot.”

and at that moment, you turn back to the board and take a long, agonizing moment to grieve over both your two precious math credits as well as your life which your parents will inevitably soon take from you

things get so much weirder after that

you think he goes from talking to you to entertain himself to actually liking you after your feisty little outburst

and you quickly learn that when linkai likes someone he’s … extremely odd

but?? kind of adorable?

the weirdest thing he does is he starts bringing you ‘gifts’

and it's so creepy but so ridiculously endearing when he pulls a bouquet of crumpled dandelions out of his bag and hands them to you

theres a few ants crawling on them and they’re ruined from being in his backpack

he hasn't even put anything on them to hold them together

and you’re not really sure if you want to thank him or not but you do anyway because like.. c’mon man

and he’s looking at you with those puppy dog eyes

so you say “thanks, linkai. these are uh.. nice.”

theyre really not but when his eyes kinda light up a little and he turns away with red ears and hides his smile in his hoodie you’re like.. these are the most beautiful flowers i have ever seen in my entire life

and that, my friend, was your second mistake

he brings you a new gift every day

one time it was half of a cookie from the gas station mcdonalds down the road

once it was an actual fucking newt like a little lizard that he found somewhere and you literally begged him to keep it for himself

another time it was an eraser shaped like a cupcake that was very clearly used

but you kept every single present he gave you

except for the lizard because what the genuine fuck dude

he also comes up with new nicknames for you every day

and they’re even cringer than they were the day before every time without fail

he strolls into the room, plops down beside you and hands you your daily present with a “good morning, ___”

the blanks thus far include, honey, darling, sweetiepie, cupcake, pumpkin, gumdrop, cutie patootie, my cinnamon apple, munchkin

and you don't know why you look forward to seeing what he comes up with next

and even the very worst of the presents and the nicknames make your heart flutter

and you realize you are slowly becoming whipped for this weird kid

and that this is very bad because you’re literally desperate to pass this class and its hard when you spend all your time waiting for his next comment or thinking about him being next to you

but like a dummy, you don't ask to be moved and you don’t even ask him to shut up

well you do, you regularly tell him to shut up but this man takes insults like compliments and it seems to feed into this idea that you like him

which you do but that's none of his damn business

and about halfway through that short month of school, you realize you’re not going to be ready for the exam

you start losing sleep over it because this is really not good

and you also realize that this isn’t linkai’s fault, really, you can’t push the blame onto him because you didnt want to ask to be moved away from the cute boy

and that makes you feel even worse

so you come into school one day looking about as miserable as you feel

you actually get there after linkai for the first time because you were in the bathroom trying to make yourself look more alive

but it doesn't work because the second you walk in and linkai (who was previously looking a bit like a lost puppy) says “hi sugarpl- damn, you look rough.”

you give him a half-assed glare and slump into the seat beside him, not even having the energy to be sarcastic.

“wait, y/n, are you okay?”

the concern in his voice makes your stomach turn a little but you just kinda look at him and you’re like.

“i’m gonna fail. again.”

and he's surprised you actually answered him so he kinda stalls for a second

and then he's like “i can help you? if you want?”

and you almost want to laugh bc you have not seen the kid take a single note since you got here

but he's like “lets go sit at one of those tables outside after this and i’ll help you with what you don’t know.”

and you’re like yeah sure i guess bc i mean.. he's cute what are you gonna do? say no?

and then he gets his bag and pulls out a pack of colorful scrunchies and hands them to you

and you instinctively tear up bc they look super new so he definitely like.. went to a store.. saw these.. thought he should get them for you..took them off the shelf.. bought them with his own money.. and now they’re here

and by the will of god you don’t start weeping in front of him

and you feel weird walking with him outside as he greets all his loud friends and is like nah i cant go with you guys today i gotta do something

you two sit down outside and you whip out your book and he’s like so what is it? what are you having trouble with?

and, in shame, you admit that you really don’t know shit all

and he just kinda laughs and he’s like aight let's do this

and let me JUST SAY

YOU. ARE. FLOORED.

he starts explaining the first concept to you and everything he says is making? perfect sense?

he explains things very clearly and intelligently and you immediately understand what you have to do 

he has his own way of solving problems that is faster and more efficient and literally whips through every equation.

when he finishes explaining, you just stop and stare at him in awe for a second and he's like “sorry, did that make sense?”

and in your head you’re like nothing has ever made sense more than what you just did right now

but outwardly you’re like yeah thanks so much

and he continues to explain things to you and by the time a few hours have passed and its getting late and kinda chilly, you already understand half the things you were lost on

you tell him you should get home now and he’s like, oh, yeah, sure, okay.

and you really have to ask him how he ended up in summer school? because he’s obviously extremely intelligent with how easily he understands all the concepts

and he gets a little shy

and he tells you that during the year, he had to work a lot during the school days because his mom is sick and off work so they’re not making a lot of money

and that she had a doctors appointment on the day of the final and there was no one else to take her and it was all really last minute so he missed it

and so he ended up failing math and had to go to summer school

he waits with you until your bus comes and sends you off

and you’re just like.. sitting there.. thinking

and you start to feel like the biggest piece of shit for multiple reasons

first, because you had made so many wrong assumptions about linkai

he wasn’t just some obnoxious imbecile. he was hard-working and obviously had a really big heart

he was loud, yeah but that was just his personality

and you had gone and assumed he was dumb when he was pretty much a genius

but worst of all, you realized that he actually genuinely liked you

all the little pet names, the gifts, the constant talking to you in class was because he just… liked you. it was his own little eccentric way of showing it

and you had treated him like he was some big joke. a nuisance, even.

you didn’t sleep very well that night, either.

the next day he brought you a donut and called you donut.

and you almost cried again 

he was also wearing a different red sweater he’d never worn before and his hair was kind of different and he looked so good

and so you smiled at him and said, “morning, handsome.”

and there was nothing sweeter than the way his face turned as red as his hoodie.

he helped you that day after class too,

and the next, and the next

and you exchanged numbers so you could ‘ask him questions while you were home’

but you two would start texting and having all kinds of conversations

from the most crackheadassery shit to some really deep stuff

you never knew that you could fall so hard for someones voice, the way he talks on the phone when he’s calm and tired, his voice husky and quiet

but shit, you were whipped like whip cream

there was this one time he texted you at 6 am

and it said something like “i just got home from work and i saw a cat in my mailbox blah blah”

and you were like.. pause. just got home from work?

and from there you realized that because summer school was mandatory he was going to work at night to make up for the day shifts he had to miss

and probably getting 2-3 hours of sleep if he was getting any and all

and that was kind of the deal breaker

and you realized that, in such a short span of time,

you had completely fallen in love with wang linkai

and you were determined to do something, anything you could to just.. make things better for him?

you just wanted to be his person

the two of you continued staying after school and studying for an hour or two and then texting throughout the rest of the day, right up until the final exam

the two of you had studied vigorously together, both in person and over facetime.

and the night before the exam comes and you get a text

and all it says is “y/n, something bad happened.”

your heart immediately sinks to the floor and you abandon the petty ‘wait two-three minutes before answering’ rule and just call him

he picks up and doesn’t even say hello and you’re so frightened to see such a bright creature so… burned out

he explains to you that his mom finally got an appointment with this really important specialist after months of waiting

and that it was supposed to be next week, but it got moved to tomorrow

and it’s on the other side of the city

and he’ll miss his exam

it really hurts to hear the shake in his voice, and how hopeless he sounds

and you ask him everything like are you sure theres no one else that can drive her but you? are you sure you cant have the appointment moved back?

and its all a pretty resounding no.

and so you think and think and you’re like; you know what? i have an idea.

and you run into your moms room and explain the situation to her and BEG her to do this for you and take linkai’s mom to her appointment for him

and she asks to speak to linkai for a second and you’re just twiddling your thumbs

and he kinda makes her smile and laugh a little and your heart could just BURST

and she agrees to drive her after getting his address and his moms name and the place of the appointment etc

and when she hands the phone back to you, you go back to your room and when you put the phone to your ear, you hear linkai sniffling on the other end

and you’re like “kai?? are you crying?”

and he’s like “no… fuck maybe a little bit.”

and you’re like ?? why, what else is wrong?

and he’s like “nothing.. nothing is wrong, it’s just.” and he takes a big breath. “thank you so much.”

and you kinda tear up a little bit too and you’re like.. “of course.. you don’t have to thank me.”

and he just takes a biig breath and calms down and then he starts talking in a really soft voice.

“y/n.. you know i like, really like you, right? i know you think im just bored or playing some game, but im not. i knew you were special, and im..” he kind of laughs at himself. “fuck, im really falling for you.”

and now you are crying too

and you tell him you’re so sorry and that you wish you would have just. been better from the beginning

and you tell him that you feel the same way and the both of you are just giggling and he tells you thank you a million times and that he cant wait to see you tomorrow

so the exam comes

the two of you take it and you’re kind of lost on what to do with yourselves other than studying lol

but you both feel really good about the outcome

and there's something really special about the two of you sitting outside waiting for both of your moms to come and get you

and when they do, you get in the car and your moms are like best fuckin friends already

and you’re all laughing as the four of you go to eat lunch together and linkai’s mom tells him that the specialist set up a plan for her and it looks like things are going to get better really soon.

and theres a happy kind of pain in your chest when you look over at him and see that he’s getting teary eyed

and you know exactly what he’s feeling - its that feeling like fuck, things are so good right now, everything is perfect, please don’t take it away

and so you’re a little scared but more excited when you reach over and hold his hand.

and he looks at you and you smile at him. you don’t have to say a word for him to know exactly what you’re thinking

‘i’m here. things will be okay. things will get better. let me carry this weight with you.’

and he squeezes your hand so tight it hurts

but you dont mind

a few days later, the two of you return to get your final examination results

and you’re both shaking and bickering bc you’re like “why are you nervous when you know you passed”

and the two of you take the envelopes and go stand outside by the same table you sat at everyday.

you open your cards at the same time and look at the results and you scream while linkai lets out a big huff of relief

yours reads ’84’ and his says says ’93’

your card flutters to the ground as you jump forward into his arms

and he’s laughing and holding you so so tight, swinging you around and he’s still kind of shaking but in a good way.

and you pull away from the hug and just look at him, and he’s got that look in his eyes again

the look that says he’s so happy and he’s afraid he’s going to lose it

and before you can think twice, you grab his face and kiss the thought right out of his head

and he smiles into the kiss, grabbing you the second you pull away and bringing you back for more

you two pull away and just look at each other like.. who knew?

and he kisses you again on the lips, then kisses all over your entire face

and the horn honks a few feet away from where your mother is waiting for you with a small smile on her face.

and you kiss him one last time before you walk back to the car with your hands tightly intertwined

and you are so fucking glad you suck at math

#god help me i fucking love this so much #wang linkai #xiao gui #NINE PERCENT #nine percent scenarios #nine percent imagines #nine percent angst #nine percent fluff #nine percent reactions #nine percent smut #9% #idol producer #idol producer scenarios #idol producer reactions #idol producer smut #idol producer fluff #idol producer angst #cpop scenarios #cpop fanfic #cpop imagines #cpop #guoran entertainment #gramarie boys #nine percent fanfic #idol producer fanfic

[minnie-marvel]

Operation Juliet (Peter Parker x Reader) Part 3 [finale]

You’ve been head over heels for Peter Parker for almost a year hiding your feelings behind love letters that you never thought would reach him. When your best friend slips one into your locker, you give up on hiding your letters from Peter and begin to slip them into his locker on a daily basis. Peter is through with not knowing who you are so he and Ned finally decide to engage in a proper investigation to figure out your identity!

Peter Parker x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Words:

A/N:Finally!! The curtain comes to a close on this romantic sap of a fic!! I’m so glad you all enjoyed this piece it was honestly a freaking delight to create this. Like writing love letters is so fun and sweet If only i had someone to write some to hahaha

Before we go on although I’d like to bring your attention to this MASTERPIECE @seven-magic-sins drew for this fic!!! PLEASE CHECK OUT THEIR ART WHAT THEY DID WAS SUPER SWEET AND THEY DESERVE ALL THE LOVE!!!!

(BTW if anyone makes fanart for my fics you bet your sweet ass I’ll be featuring it in my works!!! It’s too thoughtful to ignore!!! As long as it’s PG I’ll be putting it on the next update of said fic!!!)

Now then, let’s get to the good stuff shall we?

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

His breathing stopped, his heart froze, his eyes locked onto your notebook where your name was written in a perfectly adorable script that he had only seen once before.

“Thanks!!” you chirped innocently as Peter handed you your notebook trying to keep himself from bursting into flames at the mere sight of you.  He didn’t meet your eyes for a moment as he mumbled a quick “no problem” to you. When he was finally able to peel his gaze back from the floor, he nearly fell over again. He was stunned at how cool and collective you were being, despite your underlying romantic demeanor. You were the girl he was looking for, his Juliet.

Unfortunately for you, you were about as oblivious as Peter, and didn’t notice his obvious ogling over you. Or maybe you were just completely thrown off due to the fact that Peter was actually talking to you in the first place?

Peter’s brain felt clogged with all of the incoming messages his heart was seemingly telling him. It was screaming that he was an idiot, a dork and super lame for not being able to come up with anything to say for at least three minutes. You both were left in a very awkward silence, neither of you being able to believe that you were actually talking to the other person.

“So uh… my friend said she talked to you about Spiderman today!” You felt your voice crack again. Godamnit. He had to take a moment to think back to who you could possibly be talking about. Was it a girl? Or worse, maybe a boy? That’s when the realization struck him like a brick to the head.

“Oh yeah!! The girl on track.. what was her name?? Sorry, I’m like… really bad with those.” He said quickly. You shook your head happy that you had gotten a conversation flowing. “Eve!” you answered. You weren’t going to tell him that she was essentially your distraction, but it wasn’t like you had to anymore, Peter had soon pieced together your little plan to throw him off.

He felt his brain slap himself. Oh, you were good, too good.

“Right…” he said softly. “You know Y/N, I never really see you around school! Where are you always hiding?” he gave a soft laugh that sent your heart sky high. Ah yes, that was why you were in love with him. It wasn’t that you had forgotten, but seeing Peter being so adorable in person seemed to make you fall all over again.

You blushed realizing you had let a second or two fly by before responding due to you swooning over him internally. “Oh well, I’m not exactly in your classes, I’m just a grade below you but…there’s always passing!!” You said quickly to make up for the lost time. You felt embarrassment sink in your chest. You really hoped he didn’t suddenly see you as some squabbling infant in comparison to him.

“That makes sense…” He said a little too thoughtfully for your taste. Oh god, why was he saying it like that?? Were you drooling?? You were probably drooling. You wiped your mouth slightly despite no saliva being present. “It’s too bad, it would be cool to see you around more often, you’re a pretty sweet person!”

911? Yes, you’d like to report a homicide. This boy had practically shot you in the heart.

You started to giggle like an idiot. “N-no not really..!!” you said trying to look away from him. Peter couldn’t help but give a laugh as well. Boy, if you were this bashful over a small compliment, who knew what you would do if he actually told you how he thought you were a literal angel sent from heaven that he didn’t know he deserved.

You felt the train slowly pull to a stop and felt your heart tear slightly as Peter started to move. “This is me,” He said sadly himself. He wanted to tell you he knew you, so badly. Not that he had known you from your first day of school when you dropped your books all over the floor just as you did a few minutes ago. He wanted to tell you that he knew you and everything that your heart wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell you that his heart wanted to speak to yours too.

“Bye Peter!” You waved to him as he took a step off the bus. He gave you a smile that made you want to faint before walking off into the distance while the train pulled off again. Peter pulled his phone out almost immediately texting Ned.

‘Ned. Emergency. I know who Juliet is.’ --- Ned had met Peter at his apartment as soon as he could. Overwatch would have to wait, it wasn’t every day he and Peter had a cute girl pinning after one of them.

“Oh!! Y/N!” Ned said stroking his chin as he spun in Peter’s chair. “I see her a lot in the library,” he thought allowed. “She’s super quiet though I’ve never even heard her speak before…” his hand dropped to his side in disbelief. “I can’t believe she of all people is… Juliet.” He shrugged.

“What?? Dude, she’s like perfect come on!!!” Peter shouted.

“No, no, bro I’m not saying she’s not perfect!! I just didn’t think it would be her,” Ned said. He stood still for a moment before turning fully to him. “How are you gonna tell her Pete?”

Peter pursed his lips. “Well, there’s only one thing I can do,” He said simply. --- You hummed softly to yourself, you were having a fantastic day. You had gotten an A on your math test which you were convinced that you had failed (math and science was never your strong suits). You had finished one of your reading assignments freeing your weekend up, and on top of all that, yesterday’s conversation with Peter still left you feeling on top of the world. 

The last bell of the day had rung and your felt your excitement grow. The weekend was here and you were free to do whatever you pleased.  You opened up your locker to pack up your things for the weekend when you felt something tap your feet. Your eyes naturally glanced at the floor and you felt your chest clench.

There was a small envelope lying at your feet with your name written on its front. 

You swept it into your hands almost immediately, fearful that it might disappear if you didn’t pick it up quick enough. Your fingers trembled as they slowly tore through the paper revealing a letter inside. You felt your skin shake as you read.

To the silently sweet Y/N, who writes from afar,

   Okay, first off, I know this is super cheesy and a dumb attempt to try and copy what you’ve mastered. What you’ve created for the past month is not something as simple as letters Y/N; it’s an art.    I’m an idiot for not realizing sooner. You’d think someone who’s gained a full-time internship to Stark labs would have known better. Enough about me although, I’m sure you’ve had enough letters about me in your hands long enough. It’s time for me to finally return your favor.    If you are as loving, intelligent, and beautiful as Juliet, am I even worthy to be your Romeo? I’ve never been one to be very confident, but I think I’d do a better job than a Montague of being your one true love. That is if you’d still want to love a dork like me who couldn’t figure you out till now.    Your letters have created a change in me; they’ve started a fire in my heart that I can’t control any longer. At first, it was a spark, then a steady flame, and now Y/N? Well, I don’t even think a typhoon could smother out the wildfire that explodes when I think about how perfect you are, and how I don’t deserve you.   There’s so much more I want to tell you, but I think you deserve a better explanation than a letter that’s practically a steaming pile of crap in comparison to your masterpieces. Will you let me explain? I hope you will Y/N.

Signed,

Your hopelessly romantic Romeo

Peter

You knew this was good news. Hell, this was AMAZING news! But you couldn’t help but shake when you lifted your eyes from the paper. When you did, your world seemed to stop in motion and everything froze.

Peter stood only a couple of feet away from you, watching you read the letter with the goofiest most adorable smile that you thought you could even see on this planet. Your hands dropped to your side as he took a couple of steps closer to you. Your face was about as red as the color on his spidey suit at this point. You couldn’t help but look down in embarrassment.

“Hey, hey!!” Peter chuckled taking you gently by the shoulders when he saw your frown. “What’s wrong D-did I do a bad job??” He saw your tears drop onto your shoes and bit his lip pulling you into a quick embrace. “Y/N…?” He asked feeling his heart jump, stop and burn all at once.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find me…” You whispered the tears hot on your cheeks. “Yeah,” Peter tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry it took so long, you’d think a so-called genius could have pieced it together sooner right?” He tapped his forehead against yours and you finally got the courage to look at him. You thought that his eyes were warm enough to melt a block of ice.

“It’s not that…” you smiled softly. “I didn’t think you’d necessarily want to find me…” you explained. “I mean I’m not that noticeable, I’m quiet, I can’t even speak to you without having a mini heart attack,”

“Y/N, I don’t care about any of that,” He answered taking a strand of your hair pushing it behind your ear. “You’re shyness, your quietness, it’s all in our personality and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.” He smiled his hands sliding from your back to your hands.  “I meant everything I said in those letters Y/N, I don’t want you to just be my Juliet.” Your heart nearly stopped and your eyes searched his fearful of his next response. “ I want you to be my Y/N, totally and completely with every quirk that you have.”

He took a moment to laugh to himself. “And let’s not forget that I’m no angel either, I think I’m about as awkward as they come,” You sighed softly letting your head rest on his chest now.  Your heart was a glow and your spirits were so high you thought that it could reach satellites. Everything felt perfect, for a moment you expected credits to roll.

“So,” Peter said drawing you out of your thoughts. “How do you feel about Thai?” He said wrapping one arm around you as you walked together down the hall. You felt your hand touch his as you looked up at him. “I think that sounds good,” You smiled. Ned and Eve passed you both by casually as you walked and exchanged knowing glances. They gave each other high fives before calling out to you.

“Hey, Romeo and Juliet!!” Eve snorted nudging Ned’s side. “Get a room you too!” Ned smirked.

You couldn’t help but smile. You looked down at the letter in your other hand again blushing slightly. “Hey, Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Did my letters make you this flustered?” You asked still showing him the letter.  Peter laughed loudly having to stop mid-walk altogether in order to compose himself again. He turned to you his cheeks rosy from laughter and his feelings for you.

“Y/N, you have no idea,”

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Operation Juliet Tag

@littlevelvethearts @yourwonderbelle @dust-finatic @hawaiiantozier @awesomefandomsunited @potato384 @fandoms-in-my-tea @drowning-in-the-stars13 @angry-kylo @i-heart-movies @tonystarkshat @54fangirl @skeletalwolfcat @just-saying-26 @pan-tarou-amami @theatregeek217 @wisestark @mxrvel-imxgines-blog @wukindly @bitchstolemynutellaus   @avengingly @metermarker @plethoraofpuppies @angie1djonasgg @spookydragonprincess @dark-night-sky-99 @gabbygurrl @angel-in-the-roses @the-silver-iris @person-without-a-life @spiderboyx @dontstopxx @avengingly

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #minnie marvel makes a fic #spider man: homecoming #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel imagine

[fluidityandgiggles]

The Plastics: Phase 2

(Phase 1 - part 1, part 2)

—————

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart!” Roman was looming over the sink, trying his best not to stare at his boyfriend.

His very much shirtless boyfriend.

Roman knew how much Virgil loved his 7-Eleven slurpees. (Part of him liked the fact that his boyfriend was a less-homicidal version of JD.) But sadly, so did Remy. So when Remy told Roman to throw Virgil’s slurpee at him... he couldn’t argue against that.

It was Remy, after all.

But he isn’t going to complain about his boyfriend being shirtless.

“It’s perfectly fine, it was just a slurpee.” Virgil gave Roman a smile that he would never be caught, dead or alive, giving to anyone. “Just... do you have a spare shirt?”

“Do you mind that it’s Wednesday?”

—

Having lunch with the Plastics was like leaving the real world and entering “Popular World”. And Popular World had a lot of rules.

“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row,” Roman told me. “And we only wear track pants on Fridays.”

Well... let’s consider the issue with the statement. That day, both Remy and Roman were wearing jeans. Remy’s blue, and Roman’s white. Their shirts were pink, though.

And Emile... yeah. He was in a skirt.

“I mean, not just you. Like, any of us. Okay, like, if I was wearing track pants today, I would be sitting over there with the drama kids.” Emile started giggling. “You think this is a joke? Drama club is not a joke.”

“We know, Roman.”

“Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group.” Understandable. “Well, I mean, you wouldn’t buy clothes without asking your friends first if they look good on you.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Right. Oh, and it’s the same with guys.” I think this was when Roman’s leg started jumping. “Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”

And then Roman looked at Virgil. Who was playing with a pair of aviators. Well... if I had to guess...

“A hundred and twenty calories, and forty-eight calories from fat...” So Remy could read labels. Nice. “What percent is that?”

“Forty-eight into one-twenty...?”

“I’m only eating foods with less than 30% calories from fat.”

“It’s 40%.” The confused looks I got from Remy and Roman were... weird. Let’s call them weird. “Well, 48 over 120 equals X over 100, and then you cross-multiply and get the value of X.”

“...whatever. I’m getting cheese fries.”

Sure, Remy. Sure.

As soon as Remy got away, though... Roman started talking. “So, have you seen any guys that you think are cute yet?”

“We’re all gay here,” Emile said. I think to himself. I hope to himself.

“Well...” Better be honest. “There’s this guy in my calculus class-”

“Who is it?”

“It’s a senior?” Yes, Roman. It’s a senior.

“His name’s Patton Graham.”

If I had to compare this moment to anything... it would probably be a bomb drop. Roman started a chorus of “no”s, with Emile joining in every now and again.

“Oh no, you can’t like Patton Graham!”

The literal angel descended from heaven to grace this world with his beauty and overall being? Sure. Why? Can you explain why, Roman? Huh? You wanna try an explanation, bitch?

“That’s Remy’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh.

“They went out for a year.” Thankfully, this was said by Emile. Roman’s voice was starting to annoy me.

“Yeah.” And... we’re back. “And he was devastated when Patton broke up with him last summer.”

“I thought he dumped him for Ollie Hendricks.”

“Okay, irregardless. Ex-boyfriends are just off-limits to friends. I mean, that’s just, like... the rules of feminism. Or something.”

I swear I heard Virgil snort.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never tell Remy what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”

I seriously doubted it.

—

“We define the sum of the infinite geometric series...”

Even though I wasn’t allowed to like Patton, I was still allowed to look at him. And think about him. And talk to him.

“Hey, Pat-”

“Hey, you’re the Africa guy, right?” A guy (who, to be fair, looks like a top hat would just fit him perfectly, he’s just that kind of creepy) asked me. As I was going to talk to Patton.

Rude much?

“Yeah.”

“I’m Dorian Pechmann, captain of the North Shore Mathletes. We participate in math challenges against other high schools around the state, and we’re missing a member. You should think about joining.”

“Oh, you’d be perfect for it!” Our teacher - Ms. Torres - jumped in.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Great, great. Let me give you my card!”

This guy has a card...?

‘Dorian Pechmann - Math Enthusiast/Bad-ass M.C.’

It even includes his phone number. Lovely.

“Okay, so... think it over. Cause we’d like to actually compete this year.”

Okay...

—

Patton actually almost talked to me later that day, if only Remy didn’t pull up near the football field and screamed “get in, loser, we’re going shopping!”

Remy is like the Barbie doll I never had. I’d never seen anybody so glamorous.

“So how do you like North Shore?” Emile asked me in the mall.

“It’s good. I think I’m joining the mathletes.”

And again with the booming chorus of no.

“You cannot do that,” Remy said. Incredibly harsh for a valley girl. “This is social suicide. Damn, you are so lucky you have us to guide you!”

And then Roman spaced out. And I could see why. Over in the shop we were passing...

There was Virgil.

I was starting to suspect more and more.

Being at Old Orchard Mall kind of reminded me of being home in Africa. By the watering hole. When the animals are in heat.

“Oh my god there’s Jason!”

“Where? ...oh, there he is.”

“And he’s with Taylor Wedell!”

Remember Jason? From the cafeteria? Yeah. The poor person he was now picking up...

Was a girl.

“I heard they’re going out.”

“Wait...” Remy’s smirk grew into a vicious smile. If we can call it that. “Jason’s not going out with Taylor. No. He cannot blow you off like that. He’s such a little skeez. Give me your phone.”

“You’re not gonna call him... right?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No.”

It took Remy exactly three seconds to dial up a number - how exactly? - and ask for “Wedell on South Boulevard.”

“Caller ID-”

“Not when you connect from Information.” And then, “Hello, may I please speak to Taylor Wedell?”

I swear his voice became more feminine when he said that.

“Oh, this is Susan from Planned Parenthood. I have her test results. If you could have her give me a call as soon as she can. It’s urgent. Thank you!”

And then, “she’s not going out with anyone.”

“Okay,” Roman said, finally smiling. “That was so fetch!”

It took just a couple seconds after that for Taylor Wedell to run away screaming.

—

Remy’s house was bigger than I have ever known a house to be. His step-mom was incredibly plastic-y, like a tv trophy wife or something, and his sister - oh god, his sister! His poor, sweet, innocent preteen sister - was watching MTV.

I honestly don’t think the content was entirely age appropriate.

His step-mom also offered us drinks that could have passed for alcoholic, which was even more worrying for a second.

But his room...

“It was my parents’ room,” Remy told me. “But I made them trade me.”

Bitch...

Even worse, bitch who flaunts around his ex-boyfriends. Like all the pictures of Patton he has hanging on his door.

“Logan, do you even know who sings this?” Remy asked me about the music that was playing on the radio.

“Umm... One Direction?”

“Oh my god, I love him! He’s like a Martian!”

Is that a... compliment...?

“God, my hips are huge!” Emile was checking himself out in the mirror... why?

Is that what friends do...? Gay people as a whole...? What?

“Oh please, I hate my calves.” Something about Roman’s tone sounded incredibly fake.

“At least you guys don’t have huge shoulders.”

I used to think there was just fat and skinny. Apparently, there’s a lot of things that can be wrong about your body.

And so, after listing about eleven hundred things that are wrong about their bodies, they turned to me. Expected me to talk.

Well... “I have really bad breath in the morning.”

“...ew.”

And then, “Oh my god, I remember this!” Emile was holding a pink album.

‘The Burn Book.’

“I haven’t looked at that in forever! Come check it out, Logan!”

“It’s our Burn Book,” Roman told me. “See, we cut out pictures of people from the yearbook, mostly girls, sometimes also guys, and then we wrote comments.”

“Trang Pak is a grotsky little bitch.” “Still true!”

“Dawn Schweitzer is a fat virgin.” “Still half true!”

“Amber d’Alessio masturbated with a hot dog.”

“Virgil Thompson,” Emile read out. “Stoner.”

Wait, what?

“Who is that?”

“I think it’s that kid Thomas,” Roman said. His voice still sounded... well, off.

“Yeah. He’s almost too gay to function.”

“Ha, that’s funny! Put that in there.”

Oh no. What have I done. Maybe that was only okay when Virgil said it.

—

“And they have this book, this Burn Book, where they write mean things about a lot of people in our grade.”

Virgil looked incredibly enthusiastic. Maybe a bit too much for the situation.

“What does it say about me?”

That you’re a stoner. “You’re not in it.”

“Those assholes.” He seemed to enjoy it far too much.

“Will this minimize my pores?” Thomas was holding a tube of... whatever cream that was.

“No. Logan, you gotta steal that book.”

“No way!”

“Oh, come on! We could publish it and then everybody would see what a dick he really is!”

“I don’t steal.”

“That is for your feet!” Virgil literally snatched the new cream from Thomas’ hands the second he brought it up. “Logan, there are two kinds of evil people. People who do evil stuff, and people who see evil stuff being done and don’t try to stop it.”

“Does that mean I’m morally obligated to burn that lady’s outfit?”

Thomas really shouldn’t have said that, probably.

“Oh my god, that’s Ms. Torres.”

“I love seeing teachers outside of school! It’s like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs!”

“Oh, hey, guys,” Ms. Torres called as she came to the counter. “What’s up? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, moderately priced soaps are my calling.”

“You shopping?”

“No, no. I’m just here with my boyfriend.” Yeah... literally the only other customer in the shop. “Joking. Sometimes older people make jokes.”

“My nana takes her wig off when she’s drunk.”

“Your nana and I have that in common,” she deadpanned. “No, actually I’m just here because I bartend a couple nights a week down at P.J. Calamity’s. Logan, I hope you do join Mathletes, you know. Because we start in a couple weeks.”

“I think I’m gonna do it.”

“Great!”

“You can’t join Mathletes, it’s social suicide!” Thomas rushed to say.

“Thanks, Thomas.” And then, “well... this has been sufficiently awkward. And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Oh man, that is bleak,” Virgil sighed when Ms. Torres left. “So, when are you gonna see Remy again?”

“I can’t spy on him anymore. It’s weird.”

“Come on, he’s never gonna find out! It’s just... it’ll be like our little secret!”

Okay then...

—————

Tag list:

@broadwaytheanimatedseries @anony-phangirl @itsthemoooooooooon @whatwashernameagain @illmamnim @anotherfanboyonline @illogical-anxieties @allsortsofgeekery @ask-m423 @samwantstobereal @creepy-crawly-death-dealer @nepturanus-thy-planet @impatentpending @pheo742 @the-randomest-ofthe-fandomest @fanderily @tripleaaace @jokesequaljoker

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #mean girls au #logan sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #remy/sleep #emile picani #patton sanders #logicality #prinxiety #remile #deceit sanders #valerie

[elfmeme]

Khonjin House Starters

*WARNING: Some starters have sensitive topics

"I think it's time to order a pep-pep-pep-pep-PEPerroni pizza!"

"GODDAMMIT. Alright let's try this again."

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING, _, YOU HANGED UP ON ME!"

"I can't use my fucking dick anymore because of you."

"I'M JUST TRYING TO GET A PIZZA!"

"I want you dead, you little prick. DEAD. You hear me?!"

"Well, if I'm going I'm taking my spaghetti with me."

"It's in the coooontraaaaact~!"

"Well, it doesn't matter anyways because this questions a real butt breaker."

"I think I swallowed a bottle cap."

"I've never burned down a house before."

"AND YOU NEVER WILL!"

"God, don't these people know that I'm busy trying to look for crab crab?"

"You didn't tell me that the crab crab was a crab!"

"It's like the saying: Life's a beach, and I'm the dune who can't sand to watch our crustacean comrades go unprotected by the long beach island arm of the claw."

"Wait. I can smell it...Crab."

"I'm going to die."

"I'm going to need to examine that bag, if you don't mind."

"Well, just don't, uh, mind me while I TENDERIZE the BAG! A LITTLE BIT!"

"Uh, sir, it's not what it looks like. I just have a really loud butt."

"Well, I just dropped it so I don't have a product anymore."

"Well, uh, well don't just stand there, like are you gonna take it or not?"

"Wow. Well, now that you mention that, I totally want- SYKE! WHOOOO!"

"WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

"Do you want this?? It's my most prized posession."

"I don't know, I found this cat in the garbage."

"Well, I'll just get down to it."

"It's okay, you can come in."

"Didn't you hear what I fucking said?!"

"I got to save the spaghetti!"

"The time. It has finally come. God, have mercy on all of us."

"What the fuck is the matter with you??"

"Well, s/he doesn't have to know that."

"I don't wanna break his/her heart, they're a cool chick."

"But that's a different plate of cookies for a different glass of milk."

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT 9/11 IS? I WAS THERE!!! On those planes."

"CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE, SCUMHOLE!"

"WHOOOO are you?"

"WAIT! DON'T TELL ME!"

"heheh...what a dick.."

"WHAAAAAT is this?"

"Eh, it's just a little scooty."

"Its just a little scooty. Don't fuck with it!"

"Well, yeah, but, the thing about that is that I....Am going to touch it."

"Alright, I won't touch it on one condition: You have to answer me one question."

"I KNEW IT!"

"Ladies and gentlemen......FFFUCK!"

"You're not as big as you think, broseph."

"The only rock you're gonna feel is the pavement!"

"Who the FUCK is talking about a rock?! Are you insane?!"

"S/he couldn't cheat on a math test, let alone cheat on me."

"The only C I can explain are the C four explosives planted under the floorboards."

"This whole place is going to hell."

"You're right, because it's C. Four. And planted the bombs, as previously stated, the ones you are standing on, with your feet, where they are, right there."

"You'll kill us both!"

"Both?! Oh, god NO!"

"Oh great. Of course. Always leave it to _ to fuck something up."

"Get the fuck out, RIGHT NOW!"

"But unfortunately for _ s/he will never find the chiwowow."

"What you don't understand is that I'm gonna fucking stick you like the pig you are if you don't."

"Shut the hell up at forever'o clock."

"How about you get me a PSPiece of pizza or you can Nintendo sixty-forget about ever surviving!"

"Heheh! A whole pep-pepperoni pizza all to myself-"

"Confirmed!"

"Die in your wildest of dreams!"

"You are a fool to stand against me, you idiot!"

"Personally, I prefer your ass."

"And the winner's me."

"If it isn't  __, my beeest friend!"

"That's a lot of people s/he's gotta fight."

"NO, S/HE'S A FRAUD! S/HE'S A FUCKING FRAUD! NO!"

"I am going to put a fucking bullet through my head."

"Listen, I got more degrees than a thermometer. You call me doc."

"Why are these names so goddamn long?!"

"I dunno, I've never been guilty before."

"I want every __ on my desk by the sixty-nineth hour, four-hundred-twenty days by now."

"Rob the place of every fuckboy."

"I want every desk on my desk."

"For the last fucking time, the rope isn't haunted!"

"Fuck it, just go!"

"It was across the street! Why do we need a map?!"

"What a wonderful day to be the king."

"I remember it like it was yesterday, it wasn't yesterday but that's how it felt."

"I DID IT!"

"I DIDN'T LIVE IN SACRAMENTO!"

"I'M NOT LOOKING FOR WOMAN! I'M LOOKING FOR PIZZA!"

"How about I give you a pair of scissors and cut out your favorite picture of _. And while you're at it, tape that picture to your face, so I can feel like I'm beating the shit out of him when I'm beating the shit out of you."

"I'M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THAT FUCKING BULLSHIT!!"

"It's kind of mesmerizing, really."

"I despise every fiber of your being."

"I'm not involving myself with you. At all."

"It looks like a magic."

"I respect that. And by respect that I mean touch it."

"Have you guys seen my chia pet?"

"I feel like liquid."

"Do I look like someone who knows what the hell that is? Because I am, what was your question?"

"I wanna know how to get the hell out of here!"

"I will staple your face to a beehive."

"Ah, what a wonderful day to take a single step."

"The footage was doctored, you idiots!"

"You can't trust anyone, except for the one man I who can trust with my very life."

"Could you just let me speak for, like, one second?"

"Then what are you doing here, hotshot?"

"You ever heard about the joke with the kid who dissipated into the tides of time? Well, you never will."

"And I was an undercover cop the whole time, they were the criminal, I caught them....Which is what I would've said if I was a cop. I'm a murderer."

"Ah, what a wonderful day to not have Christmas money."

"Alright, I get it. I was looking to play cards but, uh, you can go fish."

"Wait a second, did you say cards as in, like..poker? As in, like, money?"

"But I ain't gonna play cards with some bitchy fishy who's trying to swim with the sharks. So how about you grab yourself a towel, and get out of the pool?"

"I'm gettin' my decks shuffled tonight, if you know what I'm saying!"

"Go back to the shallow end, __, this yaht doesn't have room for two. And I just sunked your career."

"Christmas ain't about making money! It's about making a shitton of money."

"Homie, are you trying to get a lambchop or a lamborghini? Come on, my boy, let's ride, let's talk the dirty."

"Don't. Trust. The streets."

"It was only a matter of time, probably for the rattle of a dime." 

"But money was not gonna buy their way out of this situation station."

"'EY! Could you PLEASE SHUT UP?!"

"Crisis averted."

"Sometimes in order to find the spider, you have to walk right into their web. Their spiderweb."

"Basically, I have no idea how to solve the case."

"Early to pep, early to shoot the shit."

"Don't pretend you're not here, I know you're here!"

"So, how far away is Six Flags?"

"Oh..That's, strange? I could've sworn we were going to Six Flags, considering I'm already IN THE CAR. AND WE'RE GOING TO SIX FLAGS!"

"Alright we made it, now lets find our guy."

"If I were a target, where would I be?"

"You got it! Just, uh, give me a second here, I'll be right back."

"I'veeee got the net!"

"So you're telling me, that if I scream once, I'm dead?"

"Wow, that's a nice cigar, I didn't know you vape."

"Look at this buffet, how could you pass this up?"

"Oh, great, just clone them. Call off the whole fucking funeral, who cares?"

"Can you actually do that?"

"Some people want to make it their own way, but I like to make it the gay way."

"Okay! I get it! it sucks, whatever!"

"EXCUSE ME?! Do I owe you something?!"

"Look, I had a rough day. I'm not looking for trouble."

"Okay, __, I get it. Laugh it up, alright?!"

"I can't die now! Not before I've played Dweebus: the Video Game."

"Today, I've decided to stop wasting my time with habits that just are fucking dumb."

"Oh, dearest __, your voice is like a porcelain gulder against the tides of white noise."

"Would you not cleanse my ears with one bout of conversation?"

"It's so quiet." 

"....S/He's gonna come in here any second now. And when s/he does, the loudest music you have ever heard in your life is gonna play."

"The sheer volume will destroy any speaker, any set of headphones will rupture and explode."

"And this horrible reality is approaching us, and I will be right here at ground zero."

"Could've been good if it were fire ants."

"Sorry to have wasted your time."

"I want to kill you on the principle of that stupid-ass question alone."

"I don't even know who you are!"

"You said you weren't him! I thought I recognized you!"

"Give me one good reason not to."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but there's an irony to be appreciated here."

"I know it'll be lost on you, but would you believe that you're not the only illusion that wants me dead?"

"You wanted him dead since the beginning."

"Kinda sleepy."

"And I'm kinda pissed. Probably don't have to tell you why either."

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"I'm just gonna lie down here, I'm comfortable."

"You know what, you've had a hard day. You take a nap, and recharged, and all that."

"Wake up, you dumbass!"

"I was having this dream about this girl with really big thighs."

"In other words, a nightmare."

"What? Do you not find big thighs attractive?"

"Well, I guess everyone has their own personal opin- YOU ARE SO FULL OF SHIT!"

"What a wonderful day to experience an unabashedly horrfying piece of ribbon."

"It's a bow that makes bows, we could sell them for four dollars apiece! Cold hard cash, or credit."

"I'm gonna take a bunch of tampons and SHOVE THEM UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

"Don't worry, I can fix this. Which is what I would've said if I knew how."

"Nah, I don't remember that at all."

"I know what I want, and I know what I deserve."

"Good, I'm glad you know. But I don't."

"That sounds like a load of shit, I don't believe you."

"My greatest wish is for you to be castrated by a scorpion."

"You take five steps near this thing I'll do a tap-dance on your ribcage!"

"And I'm running out of patience."

"Yes I know, you're a special snowflake, come on we're running out of time!"

"It seems like you thought I was asking for second opinion."

"I would rather die at the hands of a frisbee than chase whatever crazy taxi it is you want me to go get."

"In fact, I'm calling your bluff, asshole!"

"Kill me with that frisbee. Do it."

"Could we really just do that?"

"Has technology really come this far?"

"I wanted to be a surprise."

"Sooo, what do you like best about me?"

"You're not ruining the surprise for me."

"Surpriiiiiiiiiise~."

"We're gonna fucking kill ourselves, go to heaven, and steal Jesus' shoes."

"You should not have done this."

"Well I did, so it looks like you'll just have to kill me."

"The power that was once upon you, is no longer yours."

"This existence doesn't need you anymore."

"People will DIE! Just because you lost someone doesn't mean everybody has to!"

"You think I'm playing you? How do you think you got here."

"GET THIS SHIT OFF ME!"

"And, as it turns out, uhh, limited time was actually unlimited time, and so it's gonna be there forever."

"I got a signed poster of Flute from Spy Kids, I know you wanna see this!"

"Yawn, YAWWWN!"

"I've heard mention of _ and obviously I'm here for this reason."

"Not to belabor the point, but this has never worked."

"Is this the fake gamer girl equivalent to _, you fuckin’ snob?"

"I've learned all the racial slurs in existence, and I will recite them now."

"Uh, did you try shooting it?"

"WOAH, HEY NOW, flag on the plane! You can't just say that!"

"This is literally the worst possible time to be doing any of this."

"Wow, by some miracle of probability, your complete and utterly hairbrained scheme managed to garner one modicum of success and with this juncture I could not possibly see how this could go wrong."

"You thought you've got me, but jokes on you I have narcolepsy."

"Ah, well, alright. I don't really understand the implications of that but much better than the proposed outcome."

"If there's anything I've learned, it's that if it abides by the laws of physics, it simply cannot exist in this twisted, fucked up world."

"So, uh, yeah, I'm going to go home and asphyxiate on every stray cat I see on the way there."

"I don’t feel bad, I've just had enough, man. I have needs for pizza."

#long post #rp starters #khonjin house #ask meme #inbox meme #inbox starters