#like I attempted all questions but I still ran out of time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bandgie · 22 days

Note

Would you maybe be interested in this?

https://www.tumblr.com/thefantasydenthoughts/745174509121929216/sending-one-more-i-hope-im-not-annoying-i-feel?source=share

a/n: (link) I am yes BUT you know I have to add my own twist

Synopsis: You never expected to run into three terrifyingly handsome men the night you ran away on your wedding, but you didn't expect them to be so inviting either.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, 4some, jerking off, multiple orgasms (f!), light pussy play, PIV, cumming inside, no protection, lots of boob play, overstim (f!), GUN INVOLVEMENT (not nsfw), kidnapping?? (kinda), prolly missed more lmao

4.3k words

"Don't scream," you hear a deep voice whisper in your ear before your mouth is covered. "Unless you want metal in your head."

Your small whimpers muffle in his hand, but you nod. The man with chubby cheeks gives you a sympathetic look and frowns at the one holding a gun to your head. "Do you have to say that? You're gonna make her cry."

"Jisung," a cat-like man says his name sternly. "We don't have time for this, let's go."

Jisung grumbles while they lead you to an alleyway away from the main street. The tall man behind you keeps the gun to your head, guiding you to follow them. There are hardly any lights this deep into an alley, but the moon provides enough to help you spot a parked car.

They're taking you back. The thought of your arranged marriage makes you cry, weeping in the hands of your kidnappers. Tears seep through the man's fingers and you taste the saltiness on your lips. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, but the hand on your mouth prevents you from properly inhaling.

You shake your head back and forth, trying to escape from his grip. "No," you sob. "I don't wanna go back. Don't send me back. Please."

The man with the cat eyes unlocks the car and opens the backseat door. "Damn Hyunjin. What'd you tell her?"

"I didn't say shit!" Hyunjin has to bump you toward the car as you try to escape. "She just started crying. Are you sure we have the right girl?"

It takes Hyunjin and Jisung to put you in the car. To ensure your captivity, each of them sits beside you, thigh to thigh. The other one sits in the front, roaring the car engine to life. "All I was told was that she had white heels. That's it."

You're still crying, hiccuping as Hyunjin keeps the gun pointed steadily at you. Jisung takes a comforting approach, opting to hold your shaky hands and smooth over your skin. "Nothing is gonna happen, okay?" He smiles wearily at you. "Just a few questions. That's all."

No way that's all. If your fiancé sent them, they'll do more than just ask questions. "D-don't lie to me," you say through your tears. "You're gonna send me back to h-him and make me m-marry him and you'll kill me if I don't." You expect them to keep feeding you lies in an attempt to calm you, but Jisung's expression is utterly confused.

"Marry? Marry who?" It's the driver who asks. He hasn't put the car into gear yet as he turns to look at you. His face is more terrifying when he's pissed. "Who are you?"

Shouldn't you be asking them that?

But you tell them. You tell them how you were set up for an arranged marriage with a man whose name you don't even know. You tell them that tonight is the night you ran away from your wedding. You're sure he's sent people to find you, and since Hyunjin had that god-forsaken gun, you thought they were the ones.

"Holy shit," Jisung swears when you finish your story. "Chan is gonna kill us."

You're not sure who Chan is, but you're not eager to find out. "Don't tell him! I promise I won't say anything. I swear. I'll pretend like nothing happened and...and I'll give you anything you want! I have money! I don't care how much you ask for, just don't hurt me." Your bottom lip trembles.

Han shares a look with Hyunjin who looks at the man in the front for directions.

"Listen," the driver speaks softly. "We aren't gonna hurt you. We weren't even thinking of it. We were supposed to question a different girl but someone got it wrong." He shoots a look at Jisung. "But I promise, pretty, nothing's gonna happen to you, okay?"

He sounds sincere, and whether he means it or not, it makes you feel just a little better. You nod and wipe the tears sliding down your face, trying to control your breathing. Hyunjin seems to have long abandoned the gun and Jisung’s hand moved to your knee. Suddenly, it’s not too scary having them pushed against you.

"See?" Jisung gives you a sweet smile. "You're gonna be okay. Minho looks all mean, but he's not too bad."

Minho grunts.

"Okay, maybe he is a little bad, but he's not all bad." Jisung gives a reassuring squeeze.

You nod, trying to smile but the need for air is more important. You're still in your wedding dress with a huge coat over it. With the two men sitting hip-to-hip with you, it's starting to feel hot and uncomfortable. You try fanning yourself with your hand, but it's not enough. Deciding it’s better to remove your coat, you slowly shrug the material off. It slides down your shoulders to reveal the dress you tried so hard to conceal.

It's beautiful, much to your dismay. A corset wrapped tightly at your waist so your breasts overfill at the top. It's loose on the bottom, with a slit starting at your upper thigh to expose your leg. It makes you look accentuated, yes, but it's a reminder that you were a pawn. You wish you could remove it entirely.

"Oh wow," Jisung can't help his shock. His eyes lock at your chest before traveling up to your neck. "You look...you look...I mean you were getting married, I know, but-"

"You look beautiful," Hyunjin saves Jisung from embarrassment. You discard the coat on the floor of the car before looking at Hyunjin. Maybe it's because he's no longer threatening you, but he looks charming under the car lights. His eyes remind you of how the crescent moon looks high in the sky. Though his lips seem to demand your attention from his smile, you can’t help but be drawn to the shining metal on his eyebrow.

"I uhh...thanks," you aren't sure which enchanting features to look at. “You look…good too.”

"Thank you," he giggles. "So is this what you were gonna wear for a man you've never even met?" Hyunjin gestures at your dress. Your smile falters and you nod. "What a waste," he places his large hand on your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "Such a pretty thing like you deserves so much more. Don't you think, Ji?"

"So much more," Jisung scoots closer to you. His hand goes to your knee while leaning into your neck. "So pretty." His breath is warm on your skin. His body heat feels like an inviting blanket you want to wrap yourself in. Though you haven’t spoken to Jisung much, he seems to be the ‘nicest’. He was the only one who made an effort to calm you down, even if it didn’t help much at the time.

You can tell Jisung wants to touch you more. He's practically vibrating with need, but he holds back. The only sign he gives you is the hand on your leg. It never travels up, but his fingers make small circles on your skin. His hesitation only works you up more. Feeling his hand on your knee is only a hint at what you might endure tonight. You're surprised to see how much you want to feel all of them touching you.

Still, you have the mind to remember how scared you were moments ago. “I don't- I don't think-" You're cut off by Hyunjin tracing his thumb on your mouth. He taps your bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal your lower teeth.

"Don't think, angel," he sounds like a dream. "You're safe with us, that's all that matters."

Safe? That you aren't too sure of, but you don't try to stop Hyunjin when he leans in. His hand is steady on your cheek while his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, a gentle mingling to let you know he wouldn't do anything you're not ready for. You tilt your head up to get more of his taste. A specific flavor of coolness meets your mouth, he must wear chapstick.

Mint, you think.

The kiss deepens and his tongue swipes against your lip. You debate on it, unsure if you're really wanting to fuck the same guys who scared the shit out of you minutes ago. But everything just feels so good. Hyunjin's mouth and Han's inching hand. You're already on the run from your finance, what's the harm in fucking up more?

You part your lips, inviting Hyunjin's tongue. He inhales and grunts at the wetness of yours. They slide together and mix, twisting into an open-mouthed kiss crudely.

Hyunjin properly reattaches his mouth to suck on your bottom lip, pulling the skin in a way that makes you whine. Jisung takes the opportunity to slide his hand up the slit, finding home at your inner thigh. You feel his mouth attach to the exposed part of your neck. His tongue is hot on your skin, licking and sucking until your throat turns a bright shade of pink.

"Are you guys seriously gonna fuck in my car?"

Oh. Right, there's another person here. Hyunjin slowly pulls away from you. The lack of kissing has you chasing his lips, blindly following the sensation.

Han whines in the crook of your neck, sparing a look at Minho who looks both irritated and aroused.

"But Minhooo..." Jisung pouts. "She's so pretty."

"So pretty," Hyunjin parrots.

"And we weren't very nice to her at first. This is us making it up! This is the least we owe her, don't you think?" Jisung must have Minho under some type of spell because his features soften. There's a brief moment of silence that's nearly deafening. The attention shifts from Minho to you, and you can hardly stand the tension.

"I...I want to."

"Oh, you do?" Minho doesn't sound too friendly. "Alright then. Go ahead." He twists his body so it's fully facing you and the other men. You hear Hyunjin groan and Jisung giggle. They waste no time in getting back to their original position, though Jisung seems eager to spread your legs wide this time.

The feeling of two hot mouths lands on both sides of your neck. You gasp, fists gripping their pants.

You lock eyes with Minho to see a smirk on his lips. "You're...you're just gonna watch?"

Minho's smile widens, "Why? Is two not enough for you?"

Hyunjin laughs against your skin while you blush. "That's not what I meant," you whimper when Jisung bites down on your flesh. "I just...I don't want you to-"

"He's a big boy, angel," Hyunjin picks up his head from your neck. "If he wants to watch, he can watch you cum on my dick, okay?" You turn redder, hand coming up to cover your bashful expression.

It's a good thing you've got something covering your mouth because Jisung has managed to infiltrate your underwear amidst the conversation. He massages your cunt through the material in slow circles. You hum and widen your legs while Hyunjin helps to hike the dress up to your waist.

"No, she’s gonna cum on me first!” Jisung pouts. “I wanna be the first one.” To drive his point home, Jisung moves your underwear to the side. He spreads your lips to show the arousal collecting somewhat proudly. “I did this! It’s not fair that Hyunjin calls the shots when I’m the one who got her wet! And I was the only one nice to her!”

Ah, that’s true. Even if Han’s throwing a bit of a tantrum, you can’t help but find it somewhat cute. The points he makes are valid, and if he wasn’t as welcoming as he was in the beginning, you would probably be doing something very different than what you are now.

Though Han’s directing his whining at the others, you nod. “I…I don’t mind if Jisung goes first.” Your words quiet the car before Jisung looks at you with an endearing smile. “Really?!” He claps when you nod.

“See!” He looks at Hyunjin. “You don’t get to get everything just ‘cause you’re handsome.”

You giggle as Jisung grabs you by the waist to hover you a few inches off the seat. He slides underneath your ass and wiggles his pants down, using a hand to free his cock. Hyunjin still keeps the dress at your waist so you’re able to see Jisung spring-free when you look down.

It’s a lot thicker than you thought. It flushes a deep color while the head of his cock is even darker. A few small veins trail along his length, but one along the sides has you already lowering yourself down in anticipation.

“Whatever. You’re just opening her up for me,” Hyunjin grumbles.

His words are lost to you and Jisung as he taps his tip on the front of your pussy. Jisung swivels his hips so he’s able to smear his pre-cum over your cunt. You match his movements, grinding back and forth so your clit can catch his flared tip. It’s hard to steady yourself while wearing heels, so you find leverage by hanging onto the headrests of the front seats where Minho sits.

“Can’t forget about these,” Minho hums to himself as he reaches for your corset. He loosens the top part of your dress before spilling your breasts out, cupping and groping them. He flicks your nipples in an attempt to get them to harden. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches the buds until you squeal.

Hyunjin can’t contain himself anymore. He watches as Jisung gets to rub his dick all over your pretty cunt and as Minho plays with your tits. Finding a solution, Hyunjin bunches the material of your dress in one hand behind your back so a newly free hand can finally touch you somewhere. And that somewhere is your cunt.

“Don’t you want Jisung in your pussy already? Hm?” You feel Hyunjin slide his long fingers to Han’s cock so he can push it up. The tip slightly breaches your entrance, but there’s not enough force for it to go in all the way. Still, you can feel the warmth of it, of all of them. Minho’s soft yet ruthless hands twisting your nipples until they blossom with pink; Han’s hot dick sliding across your pussy; and Hyunjin’s warm fingers guiding the cock where it should go.

You nod, though you aren’t sure if he can tell.

Hyunjin grabs the base of Han’s cock and angles it to your cunt. “So wet already, it should slide in real good.” He tugs the back of your dress as a sign to lower yourself. Hyunjin is careful to make sure Han’s cock stays perfectly aligned with your hole despite how much he’s moving. Your lower lips spread as the head of his cock breaches your entrance, a whine leaving you. Inch by inch, you take Han’s length inside of you, thighs burning as you slowly make your descent.

Minho’s hands travel from your chest to your shoulders, helping you fully settle on Han’s cock. “Shit, look at that,” he laughs breathlessly. “Pussy opens so good for him.” You whine at Minho’s praise, finding the motivation to finally sink fully into his cock with a moan.

“Gotta fuck you,” Jisung whimpers from behind. His hands find the curve of your hips before he thrusts upwards. You squeal at his intrusion, thighs shaking. “J-Jisung! Can’t- I can’t- Just wait let me-” But he doesn’t wait and a bigger part of you is glad. You can feel his thighs slapping against the bottom of yours, how he’s whining just behind your ear with soft apologies.

“So, so good. Pussy so good to me, baby. I- fuck- ‘m sorry. I’ll be slower next time, mkay? I promise.” Jisung opts to wrap his arms around your middle torso to properly fuck up into you. Your tits bounce at his harsh thrusts and Minho doesn’t hesitate to get back to work on them. He takes hold of your nipples and pulls, watching your back arch forward. The whimper that leaves your mouth is heavenly, and Hyunjin can’t help but grow restless.

The taller man moves his hand to rub on your clit, moving the flesh in wide circles. Your jaw drops and you tilt your head to look at Hyunjin, eyes glazed with tears and arousal from the overstimulation. He gives you a dazzling smile, “You should see how you look, angel. Gettin’ all worked up over one dick. It’s so cute.”

Your styled hair must be a mess from the way Jisung keeps pounding into you. Your dress is wrinkled and damn near disheveled at the top because of Minho’s persistent groping. And you’re sure the expensive makeup can only last so long. So to hear Hyunin call you cute seems like it should be impossible, but the look on his face screams authenticity. You mean to thank him, to say anything that could describe how grateful you are for all of them making your night, but the moment you open your mouth, it’s moans and cries that sound instead.

“Fuck! Her pussy,” Jisung groans. “Gonna make me cum. I can cum in you, right? Can I?” The desperation in his voice makes you want to agree, but it’s Minho who answers him. “You get to fuck her first and cum in her? That hardly sounds fair.” Even though you can see the smirk on Minho’s lips, Jisung cries out as if he’s been wounded. His embrace around you tightens and his thrusts grow sloppy. Despite that, your cunt hugs his cock eagerly, begging for his cum. The walls of your pussy feel stretched and used, but you can feel your womb aching to be filled.

“Want it…” you moan. “All of it. I want all of it.”

It’s as if you’re Jisung’s savior. He can’t help but laugh, looking at his hyungs with triumph. “Heard that? You heard that, right?” He kisses the exposed part of your neck tenderly. “Thank you, baby, thank you. Imma fill you up nice and full. Gonna be leaking with my cum for weeks.”

“Gross,” you hear Hyunjin grimace. There’s not a chance to glance at him before Jisung bucks up into you with fervor. You gasp, leaning forward towards Minho so Jisung can have full access to your pussy. It’s wet, it’s lewd, and Hyunjin only makes the sounds louder as his fingers flick back and forth against your nub.

You’re reminded of how tired your legs are in this position, but that thought is distracted by a warm mouth enveloping your breast. You look down to see Minho peering up at you through his lashes, your nipple between his teeth. He gently bites before sucking it back into his mouth, letting his tongue graze the bud repeatedly. He hallows his mouth to make a powerful suction and leans his head back, taking your tit with him.

It’s no shock when you cum, but it is sudden. You’re not sure which action made you finally tip over, but Jisung can feel the gushing of your cunt and the squeezing of your walls on his cock. Hyunjin can feel how much wetter your clit has gotten, how it twitches in his hold. Minho only giggles when your entire body vibrates, tits jiggling in his mouth.

Han whines, “Is she cumming? I can feel her pussy creaming all over my cock. Shit, feels so good baby. Gonna make me cum.”

“Mhm,” Hyunjin looks at your wrecked state that barely manages to keep you upright. “She’s cumming all right. Don’t think she can take much more, Ji. Hurry up or she’ll pass out on my turn.”

The thought of having Hyunjin fuck you makes you clench on Jisung’s cock. It seems like he appreciates this, moaning before spilling hot cum into your pussy. It floods your cunt in streaks, finding a place deep in your womb. Your knuckles turn white from the grip you have on the headrests, teeth digging into your lower lip just to keep yourself from being too loud. Jisung groans and rests his forehead on your back, giving you tired thrusts to ride out his high.

“God- fuck! You put a spell on this pussy or something? Squeezing me so tight like it doesn’t wanna let me go.” Jisung struggles to pull himself out of you. He adjusts his hands back to your hips so he can lift you, slowly dragging his cock against your walls. You moan at the feeling of him sliding out. It’s cautious and slow, a good alternative from how roughly he was fucking you. The two of you let out a loud whine when he’s fully out.

“About time,” Hyunjin pushes Jisung out of the way. Jisung frowns, “Hey! That’s not very nice.”

Hyunjin laughs, shaking his head as he adjusts himself to how Jisung was. “Shut up. Just hold her dress up.” With grumbles, the younger man listens and bunches your wedding dress in his fists. Hyunjin slides the tip of the cock on your pussy, sending overstimulating shocks throughout your body.

“Make it fast,” Minho directs his attention to Hyunjin. “We’ve overstayed.” Hyunjin nods, but not without a few mumbles under his breath before sinking himself inside of you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Han’s cock wasn’t the longest, but it hardly lacked the thickness to stretch you out. With Han, it felt like you were being lolled around, but with Hyunjin, you can’t help but still. His cock goes deep, a never-ending feeling of being probed. You throw your head back, uncaring for how loud your moan is. Hyunjin shivers under you, hands shaky as he quickly finds a pace to fuck into you.

Minho has a front-seat view. It’s an understatement to say he’s amazed at how well you’re taking Hyunjin. Your cunt flutters open perfectly for him, clit swollen from being rubbed. Minho watches the inches upon inches being slammed into you before being pulled out. You can’t blame him when you see him sneak a hand to undo his jeans before pulling his cock out.

“Shit! Can’t believe you got to fuck this pussy first,” Hyunjn moans out to Jisung. “Still so tight.”

Jisung is wiggling in his seat despite already cumming, Like Minho, he’s slowly stroking his soft cock at the sight. “Mhm. Tight little pussy. He’s fucking you real good, huh?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, you’re too busy trying not to scream at the bruising pace Hyunjin’s set. If you thought Jisung was rough, then Hyunjin is brutal.

“T-too much!” You yelp when Hyunjin finds a certain spot in your cunt. He feels your walls clench so violently that Jisung’s cum leaks onto his cock. “N-not there,” you whimper. “Can’t take it.”

“But it feels so good there,” Hyunjin retaliates. For once, his hips slow to purposely drag his cock across that spot. You squirm and hiccup in his hold, squealing at how overwhelmingly blissful it feels. Jisung wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting the drool that’s begun to seep through your lips before popping it in his mouth to suck.

Hyunjin drives his cock deep inside, “You feel that?” He pulls a few inches out and grinds in again. “That’s where I’mma put all my cum. Right in here.” You shiver at his words, nodding mindlessly. He smiles at your pliant state though you can’t see. “Good girl.”

“And you called me gross,” Jisung rolls his eyes, thumb still in his mouth as he watches Hyunjin desperately get himself to cum inside you. His words are hardly noticed though amongst the sound of skin and moans. All you can focus on is how close Hyunjin can bring you in such a short amount of time. He’s focused on fucking you right and you can feel how hot his body is. He brings you back down on his cock with such vigor that your entire body jiggles at the force. Minho’s eyes switch between your cunt swallowing Hyunjin’s cock to your breasts. You wish you could reach over and replace his hand with your own, but Hyunjin has a strong hold on your body for his own use.

His cock twitches in your pussy and he groans. Hyunjin’s hips have started to falter, but you’re hardly upset about it. Your cunt feels beyond abused, leaking with Jisung’s cum every time Hyunjin fucks into you. The familiar feeling of euphoria builds in your stomach and you feel it grow with every powerful thrust. You’re so caught up in the sensation of your approaching orgasm that you almost miss Hyunjin announcing his own high.

“Oh, angel. I’mma cum in you. You want my cum, yeah? Say it. Fuck. Say how much you want it.”

Hyunjin expecting you to talk despite pounding himself into you is comical, but you manage to squeak out small words. “So bad. I need it, Hyunnie. I- I wanna feel it inside me, please.” Your babbling is more than enough for Hyunjin to unload. He shivers and stills his hips flush against your ass, letting his cock pump you full of cum.

You can feel his tip pressing against your cervix. His cock is rubbing against your gummy spot so perfectly that you cum seconds after him. Hyunjun moans at the feel of your walls clamping down on him.

When he slips out of you, your thighs fold until you collapse on his lap wetly. Your legs tremble both from exertion and the pleasure coursing through your body. You rest your head on the middle console, wrapping your arms around your torso in an attempt to stop yourself from shaking. Hyunjin soothingly runs his hands up and down your back, cooing at how well you did with Jisung chiming in with compliments.

It takes you a moment to recognize the wet sound of Minho stroking himself. You tiredly pick your head up just in time with his orgasm. Minho’s cum shoots so far that a few strings of cum land on your face. You blink and flinch at the warm substance, automatically using your tongue to swipe off the gooey liquid.

“Oops,” you can see Minho trying his best not to laugh. “Uhh…let’s take you to Chan’s now.”

2K notes · View notes

ssweetleaf · 3 months

Text

dark blue.

tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.

includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here

a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3

⋆✰

“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”

It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.

It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.

So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?

Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.

He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.

You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.

"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"

Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.

"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.

"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"

"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"

An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.

You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.

Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.

"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"

You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.

He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.

"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.

You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?

"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.

"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"

You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.

"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.

His reply was simple.

"You heard me."

"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.

"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."

You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.

"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.

"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.

"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.

“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.

“M-maybe…”

“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.

“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”

“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.

“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”

You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,”

“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”

You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”

You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.

Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.

“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”

His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.

You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.

"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"

You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.

So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.

Yeah, that was no act.

Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.

Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.

Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.

The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.

He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.

You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.

Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.

"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."

You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.

He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.

"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"

You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."

"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."

You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.

"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."

Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.

"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."

You nodded, cheeks searing.

"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."

He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.

You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.

"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.

You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.

The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?

Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.

"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."

Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.

So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.

"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.

"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.

"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.

You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.

"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.

With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.

"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"

He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.

You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.

"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"

With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.

You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.

He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.

Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.

"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."

You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.

"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.

Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.

He'd have all of you soon enough.

You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."

You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.

One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.

"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."

He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.

"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."

Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.

He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.

#tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #cillian murphy blurb #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

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theorphicangel · 3 months

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“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, male masturbation, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh, angsty ishhhh

taglist: @ghost-lantern @mreowmoreww @maomaimao @ahano

PART TWO. (click here for part one.)

“I think you’re lying to me.”

Miguel glances up at you from the dining table that he’s sitting at, currently eating a bowl of cereal. You’re standing opposite him, buttering a seemingly burnt piece of toast.

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re lying to me about not having a valentine’s date.”

Miguel’s eyes move back down to stare at his bowl, spoon mindlessly poking at the cereal but he’s not eating. He pauses for a few seconds, thinking over your words.

“What makes you think that?”

“You?” You point at him with your butter knife. “The Miguel O’Hara, the well-known ladies’ man has not one date tonight? Not a single one out of the countless ladies that he’s been with? Suspicious.”

“Looks like it.” he mumbles. You notice that his tone is dry. Refusing to play along with your teasing.

“See, I don’t believe it. Something’s up, you’re acting…weird.”

It’s ironic you say that. You have no right to judge him on his behavior. After all, you did suck him off on the couch last night. This morning, neither of you had made an attempt to discuss what had happened last night. You acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, as if you had just gone to bed for an early night.

As for Miguel, it was a whole different story. Unbeknownst to you, he didn’t get any sleep that night. Tossing and turning, his cock aching at the thought of you. Each and every time that he tried to close his eyes, all he could picture was you between his thighs.

It was that look. That look you had in your eye, it was full of hunger and desire. It was a look that proudly told him that all you had wanted to do was to make him feel good.

Reminiscing on this, guilt ran through his bloodstream like poison, questions running through his mind.

Why didn’t he ask you to be his valentine’s sooner? Why didn’t he confess there and then? Why did he have to wait so long to make a move? Do you feel the same as him? Do you feel as if your soul is eating you from the inside out, tempting you to confess how you really feel? If he did confess, would you have canceled all your plans for him? Or would you act like how you’re acting now, pretending that nothing happened?

“I’m not being weird. I’m tired.” He mumbles, still poking at his cereal. In his mind he can already hear the voice of his mother berating him for it.

“Right.” you say, unable to think of anything more to say. Normally, it’s easier than this to start off playful banter between the two of you but you can sense Miguel’s energy was off.

This was almost reminiscent of your earlier days after moving in. How you both exchanged awkwardness and empty conversations that resulted from who's turn it was to take out the trash and the weather forecast.

You figure that perhaps Valentine's Day wasn't the best day for him, assuming that his behavior is the result of something else that happened. You decide to keep your pondering questions to yourself, instead finishing your breakfast in silence. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, seeing multiple posts of friends already waking up to cute valentine gifts and what not.

Audibly, you let out a sigh, wondering if your date – whom you may come across at work– has anything planned for you this morning.

You glance over at Miguel who continues to stare down at his bowl, the obnoxious sound of milk falling off his spoon fills the silence.

Anxiety builds up in your stomach about last night. Was it wrong to ask him to help you? Perhaps he regrets what happened, suddenly wishing he’d never agree to it. Your negative thoughts continue to build up inside you, suddenly taking away your appetite.

You thought last night was…good. Great, even. It had given you confidence for tonight.

if anything was to happen tonight.

Was last night helpful? Most definitely.

Did it spark something in you that you’ve tried to keep buried since the very moment you moved into the apartment? Sure.

Did you want to do it again? Hell yes.

But the question is, does he feel the same?

You take in his demeanor, his low mood and refusal to look up at you. Maybe he hates you so much that he can’t bear to stand you after last night. This brutal assumption was all you needed to get yourself to snap back into reality.

Before disappearing to get changed for work, you take one last glance at Miguel, who continues to ignore you. By the time you step out of your room to leave the apartment for work you find the kitchen empty.

You find a single bowl of cereal on the table that remains unfinished.

Exhausted, miguel steps into the apartment. He thinks it’s nearing 6pm by the time he arrives, taking a little longer than usual to return.

As soon as he shuts the door behind him he can hear your voice calling for him; a personal singsong just for him bouncing off the walls. After locking the door, he turns to hang up his coat before bending down to remove his shoes.

By the time he looks up again, you’re suddenly standing in front of him and for a second it feels like his breath is knocked out of his lungs.

And there you were. Stood in front of him with a cheesy smile across your lips, wearing a dress he’s never seen before. You tilt your head to one side, awkwardly fiddling with your hands as Miguel stares you down.

“Do you think it’s a little too much?”

You move your body a little, providing different angles of the dress. Immediately Miguel’s eyes are drawn to the way that your curves hug at the dress. His eyes are latched onto you, unblinking. As he stands in silence your mind turns into panic, taking it as a negative reaction. Maybe it’s not the right dress.

Your disappointment is more than obvious as you start to turn, heading back to your bedroom where a pile of clothes await your return. “You’re right, I think I should–”

“Perfect.”

Finally, the words leave his throat.

If the words ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ won’t fall from his lips then he makes sure that you’re able to hear this at least.

“It’s perfect.” He repeats, a little louder now. His body forces himself to blink now, eyes stinging at the image of you.

“Are you sure?” Your tone is apprehensive, unable to see the positive correlation between his reaction with his words. “Because I think I have a better dress–”

“No.” Miguel swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I like this one, it looks good. Perfect.”

He likes it.

Relief crashes over you, all doubt washed away. His external validation was the only thing you needed.

“Really?”

Miguel’s patience was wearing thin at your disbelief, it took everything in him not to run up to you and mark you as his. It took everything in him not to run his hands all over your body, to ingest every feature, to worship it, to make love to it and provide you everything you had ever wanted.

God, he wanted nothing more but to prove to you that, yes, you looked fucking gorgeous, stunning even. If there was a moment where he wanted to kick himself in the balls for not asking you out sooner, the moment would be now.

“Really. Don’t change.”

He can’t tell whether this final validation was all you needed or whether his tone was finally believable to you but either way he’s satisfied that he has finally gotten through to you as a smile reaches for your lips.

“Thanks mig’. ” you mutter quickly, turning from him as fast as you could to hide the heat that now spread rapidly across your face. You say nothing more, disappearing as quickly as you had appeared, leaving him in a wondrous state.

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You don’t look up at him, too busy replying back to a message. He watches as your thumbs move across the small screen at lighting speed. “Yeah, yeah, he’s nearly here.” you mumble quietly. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied to notice the look of apprehension on Miguel’s face.

There’s something that gnaws at him completely. From the inside, just begging to be let out. He doesn’t know whether it’s a confession, his jealousy or anger at himself. He assumes that this feeling is a mix of all three.

He can tell that you're nervous, teeth softly biting down on your bottom lip, heels tapping the floor with impatience. If you weren’t holding your phone with two hands, he’d bet that you’d be biting at your nails. It takes everything in him not to grab you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him and take a few deep breaths.

Soon enough, a ding is heard from your phone and he watches how your face lights up. All he can do is stand awkwardly as you tell him your date is here to pick you up. Miguel watches you as you make your way to the door, double checking your purse for anything that you may have forgotten.

A wish of ‘good luck’ dies in Miguel’s throat as you slip through the door, leaving him with nothing more than an echoed goodbye.

The second he hears the door lock behind you, a sigh seems to leave his lips. He can smell the lingering scent of a perfume that he had bought for you as a christmas present, a new favorite that you only wore on special occasions.

Silence now begins to torment him, his mind is jumping to conclusions. What if this one date will lead to a second date and then a third and then a tenth? Until eventually the day comes, when you announce that you’ll be moving out.

He’ll be left on his own, again.

And all that follows are bland text messages from you every now and again, checking up on him as a friend whilst he falls back into the shadows, forever stuck with the label of ‘roommate’.

The deafening silence continues to torture him, thoughts emerging to the idea of your date becoming the love of your life. It's completely stupid and useless to jump to this assumption but he can’t help it. He can’t help but tyrannize himself, his insecurity eating away his insides like vermin.

“Fuckin’ hell, you need to get yourself together.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, making his way over to the couch. He collapses with exhaustion, a groan leaving his body as he does so.

It takes him more than a few minutes to realize that he’s sitting in the same spot as last night. The only difference being is that there’s no pretty girl sitting between his thighs, eyes glowing at him with lust and desire. This single thought is enough to make him hard.

A curse or two is muttered under his breath as an uncontrollable bulge begins to grow in his pants. He really shouldn’t. But he does.

His fingertips run over his crotch as he reminisces about last night: the innocent look on your face, your shock at how big his cock was, your attempt to take him whole, desperately trying to fit him into that pretty little mouth of yours, and by god, it took everything in him not to keep you down there.

But that look, that glow almost dared him to. Your eyes silently expressed that this was all for him. Miguel lets out a groan, finally giving in to his needs, a hand slipping into his pants to free his aching cock from his boxers.

He gives slow, long strokes imitating what you had done yesterday. A quiet whimper leaves his throat, his thumb wiping away at the pre-cum at the crown of his length. He remembers the way his body shudders as you left tantalizing little circles at the tip of his cock, practically torturing him.

His thoughts drastically change from imagining your mouth teasing his cock to how he would tease your dripping cunt. He imagines how soaked you would be for him and wonders whether you were like this yesterday, when you were sucking him off, completely soaked through your panties.

Miguel lets out a groan at the mere thought, his hand now increasing the pace of his strokes. You’d be so tight, he thinks, so tight that your eyes would tear up at your cunt trying to take him whole. His cock would stuff every inch of you, your cunt clenching around him, your little whines persuading him to go deeper, trying to prove that you can take it all.

He wraps a tight fist around himself, pumping himself a little faster now, his breath hitched. His free hand grips at a pillow beside him, imagining that he was taking handfuls of your ass as he buried himself deeper into you. He’d start off slow, let you get adjusted to his size before building up a merciless pace.

Miguel imagines your body writhing beneath him, fingertips scratching at his back as he pleases you. Miguel begins to feel heat in his lower abdomen, his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed as he tries to focus on pornographic images of you in his mind. He imagines your whimpers, babbling to him about how good it feels. That’s all he wanted to do. Make you feel good.

“Please, please, please– fuck, don’t stop.”

Miguel’s thighs begin to tense, hips jerking slightly as he fists his cock. It feels too good to stop. It’s wrong but he can’t stop your name from escaping from his lips. He surrenders to the feelings of pleasure and complete euphoria. He feels the cord in his lower abdomen begin to snap away, desperate pleads echo off the walls as he cums, his seed spilling across his hand and lower abdomen.

Coming down from his climax, the realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave and suddenly he finds himself violently drowning. Drowning in a sea of his thoughts and his mistakes. Cruelly, he reminds himself that he can’t be saved and that he deserves to be alone. After all…

he has no one to blame but himself.

click here for part 3

#angel writes #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader fluff

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buckyalpine · 9 months

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As requested, just a little back story for how you and Bucky got together after this fic (Steve cheating on you with Sharon). You could read this as a standalone. Turns out the backstory is longer than the OG fic but I hope you like it! <3

Warnings: Cheating, angst, smut, flufff, comforting, protective Bucky falling in love with you

"It's-it's not what it looks like"

It was pathetic even for him.

What else could it possibly look like.

Steve scrambled up to cover himself as if he wasn't balls deep in someone else while Sharon squeaked, pulling the sheets over herself. You didn't move from where you were standing, still blinking at the flushed captain while he struggled to pull his boxers on, nearly tripping as he ran over to you.

"Sweets, it's not-

"Please don't" You whispered shaking your head, tears you didn't notice streaming down your face, still looking at Sharon's fucked out form, the deep blush on her cheeks and messy hair enough to let you know they had already been at it for a while.

"Let me explain-Wait, y/n!!"

You walked as fast as you could in desperate need of air, hoping you wouldn't run into anyone as you dashed down the hall, your eyes trained on the floor. You nearly bit through your lip, throat closing in on itself painfully tight, not noticing Bucky as you dashed by.

"Y/n?" Bucky was on his way for a run when he saw you leave Steve's room, surprised to hear a sniffle as you ran off with your head down. It wasn't his business to pry into the relationship but seeing you upset made him worry, now also concerned for his best friend.

He made his way over to Steve's room instead of chasing after you, his blood turning ice cold finding a half dressed Sharon along with Steve still in nothing but his briefs.

"What the hell"

"I-" Steve froze, stuttering when Bucky's eyes flicked between him and the other blonde with disgust, stepping outside again till they were both fully dressed.

"What the fuck Steve" Bucky's fists were balled at his sides trying not punch his best friend square in the face, giving him a chance to explain himself first. Not that it mattered.

"It wasn't supposed to happen"

"Which part, you cheating or y/n finding out" Bucky stared at the Captain while he sat down on the edge of his bed in defeat.

"Relax, Barnes, it's not like she was your girl-

"You shut the fuck up" Bucky growled when Sharon tried to speak up, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to collect himself.

"Leave. Just leave" Steve turned to her, ignoring the annoyed huffs she made as she collected her things, slamming the door shut behind her.

"It was just the one time. We never did anything else before th-this" Steve's voice cracked on the last word before breaking into a sob, running his hands through his hair while Bucky made his way over to sit beside him.

"Is that supposed to change anything punk?" Bucky shook his head in disappointment, now worried for you instead. "Why would you do that to her"

Silence followed Bucky's question while Steve wracked his brain for the answer.

Why.

Why the fuck would he do that.

You were nothing short of perfect for him. Beautiful on the inside and out. When Steve first met you, he had the same feeling in his stomach as the day he'd met Peggy. His heart started to beat a little bit faster. Cheeks a bit warmer. He mustered up all the courage he could to ask you out on a date and the second you said yes, it became the happiest day of his life. He felt so strongly for you, it almost hurt.

However along with his passion came an equal amount impulsiveness and carelessness. It showed during brave, heroic acts where he threw himself out of buildings or on top of grenades. Now it was showing during his less gracious moments where he gave into a moment of temptation, not thinking about anything else when he took the blonde to his room, falling for the batting of her lashes and soft touches.

"It was just the one time sweets, I promise. I've never done anything else"

Steve's desperate voice made your heart hurt, his red rimmed eyes and puffy face were full of regret. You chewed your lip to keep it from quivering, the both of you sitting on the edge of your bed.

"What was the reason?"

"I-I don't have one" His head was hung in shame, unable to meet your eyes while he fidgeted with his hands. No answer would dignify what he did and you certainly deserved better than any pathetic excuse he'd come up with. He couldn't hold himself back when he heard you sniffle, pulling you into his lap and cradling your head to his chest, hugging you tightly as you shook in his arms.

"I'm so sorry sweets, I'm so sorry" His voice cracked again, tears dampening your hair as he cried with you, rocking you gently, "I know you deserve better, I shouldn't have- m'so sorry baby"

You sobs died down to sniffles, eventually calming down to shaky breaths, the room falling silent again. The wounds were too fresh, exhaustion taking over stronger with all your emotions in turmoil. The scent that always brought you comfort and love now stung when you inhaled, still hiding away in the crook of his neck.

Old habits die hard and you found yourself falling asleep moments later, still tucked in his arms while he continued to whisper apologies, begging for forgiveness, hoping for one more chance he knew he didn't deserve.

"Can you give me another chance? Just one" Steve whispered when your eyes cracked open, your body till drained and head throbbing. "Just one darling, you don't have to tell me right now, I just- "

"I'll think about it"

Steve nodded, leaving your room to give you some space while you thought it over. You tried to take a hot bath to ease the heartache but it did nothing. You hated how quickly you had melted into him the second he comforted you. You hated how much you wanted to forgive him easily because you loved him so much. He had just slept with someone else and you went and fell asleep in his arms.

Pathetic.

You eventually made your way downstairs for a snack, unable to fall asleep, embarrassment crawling up your cheeks when you saw Bucky nursing a cup of coffee, seeing your disheveled form. Before you could do or say anything, he pulled out a chair for you, having you sit down and pecking the tiniest kiss on top of your head.

"I'll make it for you" Bucky smiled, pulling out your favorite mug with kittens on it and putting the kettle on. He knew your go to was chamomile tea during late nights, grabbing a box of chocolate chip cookies to snack on.

"He wants another chance" you mumbled between sips, "and it's pathetic that I'm considering it"

"That's not true y/n" Bucky sighed, giving your hand a comforting squeeze, the cool metal easing your nerves. "It's not pathetic. You really loved him, that doesn't just disappear over night"

"I'm supposed to be stronger than this" You shrugged but Bucky wasn't having any of it, scooting closer to you.

"You are strong. Its hard because you loved him. And you still do"

"I wasn't good enough, was I" If it wasn't for his super hearing Bucky would've missed the whisper of your voice, his eyes growing wide at what you said.

"Don't. Doll, in the most respectful way possible, you're beautiful. On the inside and out. Anyone can see it. I don't feel comfortable around others the way I do with you. You're one of the wonderful people I've ever met and I've been alive for 103 years. The prettiest doll too. If you were mine-"

Bucky blinked as soon as the words left his mouth, no. There is no if you were mine Barnes, that's the girl your best friend loves-

"Sorry" He caught himself, cutting himself off, not wanting to overstep, "What I'm saying is you were not the problem here. Not in the slightest. There's no way the sweetest angel I've ever met is not good enough"

"Well, I was clearly lacking something, there's just me and he's the great Captain America" You scoffed.

"To the world" Bucky nodded, shaking his head thinking about the person that he knew from all those years ago. Steve Rogers, a skinny kid who got beat up in back alley ways. "But he's also that punk from Brooklyn who got all excited when some blonde kissed him for his bravery while also being in love with Peggy Carter. Melted into her arms and then tailed after Peggy like a kicked puppy seconds later when he realized he fucked up. He's not always the brightest bulb in the box even if he is the bravest. Sometimes"

"I don't know what to do"

"You don't have to know right now" Was all Bucky said, not wanting to persuade you to do anything when you were already struggling emotionally. He made you another cup of tea before walking you to your room and giving you a tight hug, letting you know he was always there if you wanted to talk before bidding you good night.

It had been a few weeks. You tried. You tried with all your heart to appreciate the efforts Steve made to mend the relationship but your mind would always flash to what you walked in on that day.

Their clothes on the floor.

Warm, flushed skin.

Sounds of pleasure.

Whenever he kissed your cheek, you thought of the way he probably did the same to her. You weren't ready to be intimate with him and you weren't sure you'd ever be able to again. In the mean time, you spent more and more time with Bucky. It helped having someone to talk to who also understood the person you had been in love with.

With every conversation you had with him, you started to feel confused. The fluttery feeling you used to have with Steve started to happen with Bucky instead. But maybe that was because he was the one person you knew you were able to turn to. Maybe.

But then you started hanging out with him even when you weren't sad. When it was just the two of you left back at the compound, you'd enjoy walks around the city, visiting art galleries, movie marathons and late night drives. Sometimes you'd both end up falling asleep together, waking up wrapped up in each others arms, only to pull away without saying a word once the sun rose again.

Your friendship was purely platonic is what you kept telling yourself when you found yourself trying to find nicer outfits to see Bucky, adding a touch of extra makeup and finding excuses to cancel on Steve just to relax at home with the team his bestfriend instead.

You slipped on some comfy clothes, ready to go to sleep when there was a knock at your door. You knew exactly who it was considering it was just the both of you once again, your facing feeling warm as you made your way to the door.

"Let's go for a ride?" Bucky gave you his signature cheeky smile that stuck with him from the 40's, his eyes sparkling when you took the other helmet from his hand, playfully rolling your eyes

"Alright Sergeant, let's go"

Bucky happily led you to the garage, ignoring the way his heart flipped when you wrapped your arms around his waist, tightly holding onto him when the engine roared to life. He had no reason to ask you to go on a ride with him. You were doing perfectly fine. You were trying to work things out with Steve and that alone had its issues but you were doing much better than before.

You didn't need to use him as a distraction.

You didn't need him at all.

But he was starting to feel like he needed you...

He couldn't think of you like that...

He shook those rogue thoughts away, zipping through the near empty streets, the cool wind making you shiver, snuggling closer to him. Bucky found himself placing his hand above yours often whenever he was at a stop light, neither of you saying anything every time your fingers intertwined instead. Once he parked back at the compound, neither of you said anything, letting the thick tension between you two linger as he walked you to your room.

Then he said good night.

Kissed your cheek.

Stayed rooted in place when he should've walked back to his room instead.

That night Bucky made love to you for the first time. It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't planned. Your underwear didn't match. He didn't have protection.

But none of that mattered.

It was different.

You knew Steve loved you and constantly told you how beautiful you were but a part of you still always felt insecure whenever you were intimate with him. Like you'd never be perfect in his eyes though he never said such a thing.

But not with Bucky.

You let his eyes roam your body, kissing every bit of your skin he could touch. You didn't doubt for a second that he found you beautiful everywhere. His hands roamed the soft skin of your tummy and you didn't tense your stomach. You kissed his shoulder where mental met flesh and he didn't flinch, feeling just as safe around you.

He was inside you and it still didn't feel close enough. You were wrapped up in each other with your arms and legs tangled together, soft moans filling the room as if you were still trying to keep what was happening a secret. It wasn't right, it should've have happened but it did and neither of you wanted to stop.

"Angel, I-I love you" He whispered, desperation and shame clouding his mind because he knew Steve was trying but you deserved so much more loving. "I know I shouldn't but I do. Fuck, I love you so much" His voice was muffled against your neck while he continued to rock his hips, hitching a knee up to push himself deeper.

"I love you too" You surprised yourself with how easily the words followed, feeling guilty from how true they were. You did love him. It wasn't in the moment. You had loved him from before. You loved him more even now.

"M'gonna treat you right princess, I promise. Swear on my life, whenever you're ready, if you'd have me" He pulled away from your neck, his wide innocent puppy eyes pleading with you to believe him, that he'd take care of you with his whole heart, "I won't break your heart precious girl"

"I'll be yours" You moaned as he moved faster, desperately chasing both of your climaxes. You clung into him tightly as he started to fill you up without a second guess. "One day, I'll be yours"

That started it. Neither of you said anything, not acknowledging what it was. After all, you were technically still Steve's girl. But it didn't stop Bucky from sneaking into your room in the middle of the night. It didn't stop you from sneakily holding his hand under the blanket during movie nights.

Maybe you were not ready to tell Steve yet but you were more certain about what real love felt like now than ever before.

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rizsu · 6 months

Text

barely delusional megumi, itadori, nanami.

-> tokyo revengers & haikyuu version

megumi fushiguro.

life as megumi is simple. he is simple. his routine never over-complicates itself nor will he allow it to do so. on top of that, he will always be sure to attend every plan he agreed upon — well, all except for one. you see, the prior plan before the plan with itadori and nobara had slipped his mind. it's only when he checked his phone for the time is when he remembered.

the trio planned for an evening-to-night hangout session. first, dinner. dinner is important. second, an arcade session. third, amusement park. a well-thought plan that can finally make its way out of being just a "plan." kind of.

"hey, are we still on for the arcade later?" itadori asks, licking the drips of his popsicle on his forearm.

megumi opens his mouth only to close it back. he takes a popsicle from the bag, busying himself with the snack, he replies, "can't, i promised my girlfriend i'll sleep over tonight."

silence. it's a sudden moment of silence. the kind of silence before something goes south.

one, two, three...

"YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!?"

"YOU PROMISED YOUR WHO?!"

both itadori and nobara voice their astonishment in unison. it's not every day you hear megumi speak about anything bordering romance. megumi, on the other hand, doesn't answer. his full attention is on his popsicle. indeed, he does feel the two pairs of eyes on him but will he respond to their shock? yes, actually.

"i said what i said," he shrugs, not understanding why it's so shocking.

nobara's jaw hangs loose. her popsicle already puddled on the ground. slowly, she regains her mind and forms a sentence, "you — you're not lying, right? is this megumi? FUSHIGURO megumi?"

itadori nods behind her, showing his support for her actions. megumi rolls his eyes, clearly he doesn't like the way they think he's a loser.

"yeah, yeah. when do i ever lie?"

"oh, you're right," defeated, nobara agrees. there's not a single memory in her mind where megumi lied.

itadori yuuji.

he's bent over gasping for his life. a few seconds ago, itadori ran three floors down the school just for a question. it's an important question and they — gojo and utahime — will answer.

"guys, what do you do when you want to buy someone a gift but that someone is your girlfriend but you're not sure if she'll like it but—"

gojo drops his self-made paper plane, turns his head to the boy and begins, "pause right there yuuji. repeat that again."

slightly confused, itadori repeats himself from the beginning, "what do you do when you—"

yet again, gojo cuts him off, "NOT that part. the one after."

confused, he repeats again, "but that someone is your girlfriend but—"

gojo claps his hands together, sitting up straight and pointing a finger directly at itadori. "THERE — THAT PART."

utahime rubs her forehead, trying to calm down an incoming headache at the elder's childish behaviour. she sighs loudly, shooting a glare at gojo before turning to itadori with a small smile. "what gift do you have in mind?"

itadori, not remembering the gifts he had in mind, starts counting on his fingers. he knows he thought of roughly five gifts, but the question is what were the five gifts.

"uh, i think i had a five-hundred-dollar gift card in mind? don't remember the price but it's for makeup, skincare, and all that stuff!!" he replies, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

"that's a bit expensive. are you sure you'd want to buy it? if it comes from you i'm sure she'll love it either way," utahime attempts to comfort him. she's a tad bit concerned at the price but hey, love is priceless.

"mhm! it's our anniversary soon, too," itadori nods, feeling his nerves calm a little.

gojo, however, needs to put his input or he'll go crazy. slapping both palms on his thigh, he changes the tone of his voice to a serious one, "son, let me introduce you on the top ten ways to make a woman happy with money."

"gojo, no. don't."

nanami kento.

a true businessman has now ended his working hours. at 7:30 p.m on the dot, he's now in his office preparing himself for his activities at 8:00 p.m. unknown to him, a little pesky fly slides himself into his office. obnoxiously chewing on some lays chips, gojo questions nanami's new attire, "you look oddly handsome, nanami. you got a date?"

refusing to meet eye-to-eye with gojo, he responds to him, "i do, actually. with my woman." turning around, he still avoids eye contact with gojo. rolling his sleeves up to his elbow, nanami walks to his desk, searching for his wristwatch.

once content with his attire, nanami finally looks at gojo. his visual makes a vein pop out on nanami's forehead. crumbs all over his fingers, hair scattered everywhere, mismatching indoor shoes — just irritating.

"if you excuse me, gojo, i have somewhere to be. exit yourself," gesturing to the door, nanami expects gojo to leave and so he does. just one step away from being out of nanami's office, gojo turns around. something's off.

"yeah yeah, go on with your woman — wait," he begins, eyebrows raised in suspicion. "you have a woman? like, seriously?"

paying no heed to the fly, nanami makes his way to phone you a call. once you answered, he brings the phone to his ear, "i'll be there to pick you up in ten-minutes, okay? ... yeah, i love you too."

"NO WAY," louder than sirens, gojo gasps at the confession and return of love. his once-crumbled fingers now cover his mouth.

nanami, already annoyed by his presence, puts his finger on his lip, motioning to gojo that he needs to shut up.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader

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kelstey · 3 months

Text

i waited

theodore nott x reader

warnings : none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

theo kissed your forehead, both you bodies sticky and sweaty from the moments prior. you smiled to yourself as his muscular arms made their way around you.

"i don't think i'll ever get over how beautiful you are," theo ran his fingers through yourhair.

"thank you, theo," you turned your head and kissed his lips.

your happiness was quickly replaced by a sudden wave of what felt like guilt and shame.

the two of you had always been close, sharing kisses, looks, even touching when no oneelse would be looking. that part killed you.

no one knew. not even pansy and luna. given, luna may not be accepted by a large majority of slytherins but you couldn't help but love her, she was amazing and understood you in a way no one else did.

that's how private the two of you had decided- well improvised on. you wanted to show him off. you wanted to kiss him before class, hold hands when sat next to each other, dance in front of everyone, everything.

but he didn't want that. he liked the privacy. but you were never sure if that was really a cover for simply using you.

but you let him.

"i should get going, i'm going out with luna to the three broomsticks," you moved out of theo's arms and started picking up the clothes that were discarded all over the room after theo ripped them off of you.

"tell her i said hi," theo said, another thing that you liked about him. he liked luna. but he was partially stupid as you couldn't tell luna that he said hi, she would ask questions as to why he would even do that.

"i think you forgot we are a secret," you put your tights on.

"fuck, yeah. well- have fun then," theo waved and you hurried out, still attempting to tie your tie.

you felt the tears coming. you couldn't help it. you felt idiotic to allow theo to walk all over you. you promised yourself you would never let a man take you for a fool, but no. here you are, years later, being taken as a fool by a man you were in love with.

obviously he didn't know, he couldn't. it would ruin everything.

the two of you agreed to strictly have just sex. just sex. just stupid fucking amazing sex. he was a natural at it, he knew how to make you cum in minutes. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you typically wouldn't let anyone see or touch you, but theo? he could do anything and you would let him. it also felt like a weird bonding experience.

sex is intimate, of course. it's the closest two souls can get to each other. and you were convinced that the countless amount of times you did it in a day with him made some sort of connection.

you wiped your tears away as you entered the three broomsticks and saw luna sat alone in your usual corner. "luna!"

"you're here!" she exclaimed and got up out of her seat to hug you.

"of course, you know i love our chats here," you smiled and the two of you sat down.

"are you okay?" she asked as she observed the mascara which was evidently smudged under your eyes.

you had to tell her. you had to tell someone. there's no one you would rather tell than her. "luna, please, pinky promise me you won't ever tell a soul."

she nodded, "your secret is safe with me. you know that."

you looked around the place, only noticing two other tables of people who seemed to be in their own little worlds. "okay, me and theo have been hooking up. like friends with benefits style, but i'm in love with him. i cant keep doing this. it hurts, luna. i want to love him and kiss him around our friends but i can't."

luna sat and listened to you ramble on, a few tears shedding in the process. "that's horrible. but you must know, no man, especially one who you aren't even dating, should ever make you feel this way. the right one will make you cry only tears of happiness and pleasure, if you know what i mean."

her comment made you laugh, this was why you loved her. "thanks lu. sorry about that rant, i haven't told anyone and so feel special you're first to hear about this fucked up situation."

"i'm glad you can trust me, but i think i may have an idea," luna sat upright. "how about you stop meeting him so often? maybe start seeing him once a day; then once every few days. if you want to take it a step further you could even start hanging out with another boy more."

"luna you're a fucking genius," you reached over and hugged her.

"you know i always have the best ideas," she giggled.

just then the door opened and luna's eyes focused behind you, as your back was turned to the door.

"who is it?" you asked as you noticed her smile had dropped.

"don't turn around if you don't want to cry," she said and you immediately turned your head 180°.

"no fucking way," your jaw dropped as you saw theo walk in with cho. "is he fucking shitting me right now? luna tell me i'm dreaming. tell me."

"i'm sorry, babe. do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked.

"yes it is best we go. i don't think i'll be able to hold back a fucking fist in both their stupid faces," you both got up.

and as for your amazing luck, they both spotted you and luna. theo called out your name and walked over to you. "hey, what's up?" he asked with a stupid smile on his face as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"hey theo," luna gave a small wave and he smiled at her.

"we were just leaving," you said and took luna's hand and the two of you walked out. you heard theo say something but you were too distracted by the ringing in your ears.

"it's okay, it's okay," luna engulfed you into a very big, very needed hug.

"why would he do that? i literally told him i was going to be here with you?" you cried into her arms.

"he's a boy, they don't think with their brains, only their dicks."

it had been a few days since the incident and you still had not spoke to theo. you were going out of your way to ignore him, not caring if it hurt you more than him.

you would spot theo in the halls, once he noticed you, you had already turned around and walked the complete opposite way before he even got a chance to call out your name.

it hurt too much. it didn't help that after those first couple of days, he eventually stopped trying to get your attention. instead he was being all handsy with cho.

it killed you, hardly being able to speak or react. it also hurt that you had to distance yourself from the other slytherins who noticed the lack of your presence.

but it wasn't all too bad, instead of hanging with them you and luna started hanging out more. she would check up on you constantly, making sure to cheer you up to avoid you thinking about him.

she knew you were deeply upset about it. she allowed you to grieve, cry and let all of it out. she herself had never experienced this type of hurt, but she was almost grateful as she saw how badly it impacted you.

aside from not speaking to theo, you kept your head up high. you still went to class, still did your work, still sat at the slytherin table for meals. everyone noticed the tension between the two of you.

no one asked, or at least in front of your face. they decided it was better to keep quiet and try keep things as normal as could be.

amongst those few days of hurting, you started growing closer with mattheo. he was also there for you, he wasn't sure exactly what happened with theo but he knew it was hurting you and so he decided to be there for you.

he also had to admit that it was also due to the fact that he fancied you. you began sitting next to him at meals, class, even sometimes being spotted after classes walking together.

this didn't go unnoticed by theo, of course. he wanted to punch mattheo in his face. mattheo was one of theo's closest friends and to see him get close with you, it also hurt him.

it was a stupid, stupid situation. the two of you pretending to move on while both your feelings grew stronger- though a large majority of it was anger due to the fact you were not communicating.

or at least verbally communicating. whenever you looked up, no matter where you were, his eyes were the first ones to meet yours.

it was ridiculous, really. you couldn't seem to get away from him, he seemed to stalk you as if you were prey. he couldn't get you out of his mind.

you looked over at the clock, 2:56am. great. you couldn't seem to sleep for some reason and it was starting to annoy you. you quietly got out of bed, slipping on a random hoodie on the floor and your slippers before leaving your dorm. you knew that after 12am, no teachers or prefects would be on lookout so you didn't have to worry too much about getting caught.

you made your way up to the astronomy tower, your favourite spot to go when you were unable to sleep. you reached into your pj short pockets and retrieved the joint that you rolled earlier.

you got the lighter out and attempted to light it. of course it had to be out of fluid. you were just away to get up when you noticed theo standing behind you.

"you spooky bitch! why the fuck would you stand there like that, holy fuck bro. you better be glad i'm a teenager and not an old woman cause you would've gave me a heart attack," you scolded him as you raised a hand over your heart to relieve yourself of the pure distress he just put you through.

"calm down, darling. here's a lighter," he passed you his stainless steel lighter. the same one you carved both of your initials into. you were surprised he used it.

"you don't get to do that," you looked up at him, feeling anger flowing through your veins. theo looked at you, he seemed confused but also like he knew what was happening.

"you don't get to have cuddle me, kiss me, make love to me, everything a couple would do, and then fucking show up to a place where you knew i was at with another stupid fucking girl! do you know how long i've waited for you? years theo, fucking years! i thought it was best to keep waiting, hoping for the day that you would admit you loved me back, but you didn't. but i still waited, theo, i fucking waited. i would never do this if it was anyone else," you felt tears threatening to spill and a lump in your throat.

theo remained quiet, he looked down at his hands and played with the silver rings which decorated his stupidly pretty hands. you waited for him to say something, anything. but he didn't. once again, but were you surprised.

"have your stupid lighter back. i never should've carved our initials in it thinking we could've been something," you shoved the silver lighter into his hands before walking off.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #fanfic #slytherin boys #slytherin #fictional men #harry potter imagine

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sweetnsour1 · 29 days

Text

11:15

Fluff, Bakugou x g/n reader

“This is dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. It’s math.”

“But it’s not fuckin’ math.”

“Ugh, it’s an expression.”

“How is math an expression?”

“Oh my god...it just means it adds up, grandpa.”

“Still doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.”

“Yes, it does. Here, we’ll try another one. Todoroki.”

“IcyHot?”

“No, Fuyumi. Obviously Shoto.” Your head jostled as a pillow thudded against your face before returning to the lap it had flown from. “Hey!” The blonde was nearly pouting.

“Don’t call him that.”

“You started it. Anyways...our Todoroki.” Your eye roll was interrupted as you dodged his second attack. This time you tugged the pillow into your own lap before he could reclaim it.

“Don’t call him that either.”

“Oh my god, just answer.”

“Man written by a man.”

“Noooo.” You kept one hand gripped into the pillow while the other massaged at your temple. “No, you’re still not getting it at all.”

“His dad was the one who raised him though.”

“Hardly-” the word combined with your scoff, “-and that’s not the point. He’s man written by a woman for sure. Especially after his character growth back in year one.”

“The fuck? Like what?”

“He listens, he’s supportive, he’s thoughtful, he is always trying to learn how to communicate better, works hard to strengthen the relationships around him, he-”

“Okay, I get it! Damn!” You didn’t reply, giving him a moment to collect whatever festering thoughts he seemed to be sorting through. You waited patiently for him to choose one to give shape to. He shaped it into a grumble. “...so what am I?”

“You? Hmmm.” You put effort into looking thoughtful.

“Man written by a man?”

“No?” He looked relieved, but unsure. Perfect. His loss of cushioned weaponry made you brave enough to continue. “You’re more like a feral raccoon written by a-“ He lunged. “Hey!” You shifted the pillow behind your back, pressing your body against it. You realized a little too late that obviously left one thing for him to go for...you. He had you pinned between those massive arms. Your smile was instant.

“I’ll show you fuckin’ feral, brat.”

“Okay, so now you’re a man written by a woman.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Several things, which is probably why I’m interested in feral rac-”

“Shut up.”

“Yessir.” You saluted as much as you could with the space you were given. He let his arms buckle, falling forward and knocking the wind out of you a bit. He laughed or huffed into your neck. Either way he was at your shoulder, shaking his head before he kissed your cheek.

“Thought you were gonna’ show me feral?”

“Mmmm, later.” He continued, answering the question you hadn’t asked yet. “You calmed me down.”

“Oh.” You ran your fingers through his hair. You could feel and hear his hum at the action.

“Keep talkin’.”

“You told me to shut up.” He nuzzled further into your hair as you pulled his.

“Didn’t mean it.” You scratched at his scalp again before sliding down to his neck and shoulders. “Wanna’ hear ya.” He was whining.

“Always so bossy.” You laughed as he dug a knuckle into your rib. “I didn’t say no.” He seemed satisfied as he settled himself further. Before you could complain about the weight, he shifted, turning into half big spoon/half weighted blanket.

“So my favorite things about raccoons...” He pawed at your face with one hand, attempting to hide his laughter somewhere to your left. “You’re exactly right. Let’s start with their hands and how they use them.”

He loves nerds.

Masterlist

#bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bnha fluff #bnha #bakugou imagines #bakugou drabbles #bnha bakugou #bnha imagines #bnha drabbles

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thaliagracesgf · 2 months

Text

i get a boyfriend

part two of the casual series! (requests are in progress, i just churned this out because it is my baby)

warnings: making out and luke being cocky asf

wc: 1.2k

the sun streamed through your eyelids in the morning. you shifted in bed, cozying up in rebellion. you really did not want to get up. you felt luke behind you, starting to move, and you closed your eyes. you knew he wouldn’t be able to wake you up just yet.

his head finds the crook of your neck, and his curls brush against your face. you’ve never felt so safe.

“jesus christ,” you’re rudely disturbed. you keep your eyes shut. maybe beckendorf will leave.

a knot grows in your stomach as luke grumbles from behind you. “fuck off, man. i was sleeping.”

“yeah. i noticed.”

“what are you doing here? this isn’t your cabin,” he said, sleep evident in his low voice.

“yeah, isn’t hers either. so are you two a thing now? you finally hook up last night? what’s the sitch here, because silena needs her update.”

with that, luke pulls himself up. “shut up, man.” he looks down at your ‘sleeping’ face, hoping you didn’t hear. “have some respect.”

you did hear, of course, and at first it did make you feel gross, but the ‘finally’ catches you, and you remember that luke wants you. he isn’t jack, who just wanted to fuck somebody, he’s been waiting, and yeah, the older kids at camp sometimes fuck. it’s relieving to realize that beckendorf doesn’t know about last night— he would never had said that if he did. besides, luke’s attempt at a defense, though hampered by his sleep-addled brain, is adorable.

“i’m just saying! don’t act like you haven’t thought about it. every person in this godforsaken camp can see it, ’cept maybe her.”

“can you seriously fuck off? i’ve got my girl, don’t make it my problem that you’re scared of yours.”

you laugh softly at that one. you don’t open your eyes, but you can feel luke freeze behind you. beckendorf doesn’t notice, but your gig is up anyway.

“your girl?” you mumble, a smile crossing your lips. beckendorf stifles a laugh.

“alright, i’m heading out! good luck with this one, man.” you open your eyes, and even as they’re adjusting to the light in the cabin, you swear you can see him wink. you’re not sure which one of you it’s to.

“die,” luke calls after him, throwing his head back on the pillow, but pulling you into his chest.

“hi.” you say, still facing away from him, and he tucks his head into your neck again.

“hi.” luke says.

you turn yourself over to look at his eyes. they’re such a deep brown. he tilts his head forward. you smile. you let his lips graze yours.

it’s exactly like it was when you were fourteen, and a million times more. he’s soft and gentle, pulling back between each kiss. your arms move around his neck, his wrap around your waist. you’ve never felt so secure in your life.

but you have to pull away. “i— i…” you start.

luke sits up. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m so sorry. fuck, that was so stupid of me. i’m so sorry, gods, what was i thinking?” he ran his hand through his hair. it was adorable. you reach out to his arm. (gods, he’s jacked). you wish you had allowed yourself to stare sooner. you’d been depriving yourself.

“it’s okay, luke. it was…it was really nice.” it seems like such a cheap thing to say, and by the look on his face, it wasn’t all that convincing. “i’m not… this is just a lot to process.”

“in what way?” he probes. you aren’t used to people asking questions. usually hannah just stares you down until the words come out of your mouth.

“i mean,” you try to word it in a way that won’t set him off. “it would be kind of shitty to jump into anything, right? after what happened with jack?”

luke gives a contemptuous look at the mention of his name. “no,” he scoffs. he’s still sitting up, looking down at you lying in his bed. you figure it might be a bad time to tell him how badly you want him to kiss you again.

“well, i don’t know. doesn’t it look like i’m just hopping around from guy to guy?”

“ok. first of all, i’m pretty sure there are only, like, four people who know about you and jack. second of all, at the risk of sounding like an absolute dick, aren’t you supposed to be in love with me or something?”

you gasp. “what the hell?”

he grins. “it’s just what i’ve heard. you know what the camp gossip mill is like.”

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “this is so not fair.”

and he laughs, he really laughs. “how is it not fair?”

“you are such a dick. this is so embarrassing. i’m going to kill you.”

“you seem pretty content under those blankets for someone plotting a murder.” you look through your fingers. his smile is so, so, unbelievably cute. “how is this not fair?”

“because you totally know everything and i don’t know anything.”

“okay. what to you want to know?”

“shut up. die. i hope you drown today.”

“are you really going to make me say it, jack-jack?”

“i hate you.”

“i like you.” you go quiet. “i really, really like you. i think i’ve had a crush on you since we were fourteen. and i fucking love you. not like we already say everyday. like i think i’m actually fucking in love with you.”

he lays down beside you. you’re facing away from him, so he traces swirls on your shoulder.

you turn to face him, and for a second he has the decency to look nervous.

you narrow your eyes at him. “so how do you really know i’m not just in this for the sex?” and he bursts out laughing. and before you know it, you’re laughing with him. and he loves the way your eyelids almost close when you do.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he grins.

“well, who are you hooking up with these days? i’ll have to see if you have good reviews.”

“good luck with that, it might be difficult.”

“what, like you’ve never hooked up with an aphrodite girl after a bonfire.”

he shakes his head, and you’re honestly stunned. luke castellan, the most gorgeous boy on long island, is a virgin?

“i mean,” he starts. “it’s not like i haven’t had offers.”

“oh, shut up, you asshole,” you try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arms around you, and at his next words you freeze.

“but i was holding out hope that it would be with you.”

fuck. that was really hot.

you look up, into his eyes. “i hate you,” you roll your eyes.

“i love you,” he murmurs, his eyes on your lips.

this time when he kisses you, you’re never letting him go. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him atop you. it takes everything in you not to roll your hips into his, but you don’t stop yourself from reaching down his torso to find the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and running your hands along his stomach. fuck, you think for the second time that morning. he’s jacked. he smiles into the kiss, and you know you’re stroking his ego right alongside his abs.

“so,” you say, biting your lip as his trace your jaw and neck. “what was that about ‘your girl’ earlier?”

you’re expecting a sly remark, a grin, or something. instead, he doesn’t hesitate—“be my girlfriend,” he almost moans. “please.”

and you don’t have it in you to leave him waiting.

“okay,” you whisper.

#pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke pjo #percy series

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generalsmemories · 8 months

Note

hello jing yuan's wife!! congrats on 1k followers! you very much deserved it 😊 may i please request for jing yuan with angst scenario #5? thank you in advance!

Stubbornness

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompt used: needing to go to an event after a party and having to pretend as if they aren’t angry with one another the entire time || 1k event

✧ contents: established relationship, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, arguments cause yeehaw, however happy ending cause they are functioning adults, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: the amount of times ya'll have called me jing yuan's wife at this point HAHAH. anyway! first drabble to kickstart the 1k event is a sort of angsty one because why not but ya'll remember that one book where the sanctus medicus had 5 operations to try and get rid of jing yuan? yeah have that back in mind. - also not beta-read but who is surprised at this point LMFAO

"... You could've died."

Jing Yuan snorts, adjusting the bracers on his forearms without even sparing you a glance, "But I'm here right now breathing, aren't I?" he quips back instead, almost sounding amused at your worry.

It infuriates you. It baffles you how little he truly cared about the situation and at the severity of it. The hair you had for once tried to style already messy by the amount of times you've ran a hand through it out of stress or frustration the past two hours.

You're so glad you made Yanqing leave earlier to assist where it was necessary.

"Do you honestly see this as a mere joke, Jing Yuan?" you sneer, arms crossed whilst leaning one side against the doorframe. He must already know what you're referring to, being that you had finally opened the report handed to you from today - a report telling that there was yet another attempt on his life.

Another attempt that he didn't want to tell you about.

"Quite the contrary," he says, turning around to finally face you. His smile is still present on his lips which only serves to make you more agitated, "Nothing happened as you can see, and I'm perfectly fine. As such I didn't see the need to tell you about it because nothing happened. I wasn't even at the Artisanship Commission like they thought-"

"Because you got delayed."

He sighs, crossing his arms as well and cocking his head to the side, "Dear, with the amount you're worrying about me it makes me believe you have no trust in my capabilities to protect myself. Am I right to assume that?" he questions, his smile fading a bit after he had asked.

"Where the hell did you even get that from- Can I not worry about my lovers safety even when I'm aware of his swordmanship?" you ask, clicking your tongue whilst running yet another hand through your strands.

"And I'm telling you that it is a needless worry-"

"You're fucking unbelievable," you scoff, turning around to head for the entrance of your home, Jing Yuan quirking an eyebrow at your retreating form, "Oh? You're not going to nag at me further?" he asks, his tone may be lighthearted, but even you can pick out the slight bite it has to it.

"Even looking at you right now makes me want to punch you. The fact that you can't even see where I'm coming from is unbelievable enough, so fine! I won't worry more about our dear general," you bite back, slamming the door shut once you're at the other side.

You can come up with an excuse as to why the two of you arrive separately - it wouldn't be the first time after all.

"You must be quite delighted that the expedition finished earlier than planned, right [Name]?" Master Gongshu asks, handing you a glass and immediately clinking his own against it before taking a sip, "Even the tiny lieutenant made more of a name to himself out there."

You snicker, swirling the contents of the drink before you, stealing a brief glance over at Jing Yuan who is surrounded himself, "Indeed, I'm quite relieved to see him and Yanqing safely return to the Luofu."

Even though there was immediately another attempt on his life the moment he stepped one foot back onboard.

"But say, aren't you a bit saddened that the general haven't been by your side as much today? He's practically surrounded by the other commissioners and knights," master Gongshu points out, to which you only shake your head, "Why of course not, as long as I know that my husband is safe - I wouldn't have to worry about anything," you say - a bit louder than needed.

You know Jing Yuan heard you.

He kept his attention solely on the people before him though, not even sparing you a glance.

The sight makes you let out another loud sigh, bringing the glass to your lips only to immediately drink it in one gulp, Master Gongshu snickering beside you while calling another waiter over, "Oho, I see you're rearing to go so early! This is indeed what a celebration feast is about!" Master Gonshu roars, his laughter having been a bit too loud to attract the attention of other people, who merely snickered at his own energy.

Jing Yuan only narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure at your comment. It seems like you still haven't cooled down. But as soon as he heard his name get called, he was all smiles again, "Aren't you worried that [Name] is going to drink too much, general?" a solider jokingly asked, raising his own glass to have a toast with the general. Jing Yuan merely let out a low chuckle, "Of course not, and even if they were to, I'm here to take care of them."

At this point, the master diviner had made herself to your side with a few snacks - just in time to see your expression twist for a split second upon hearing what Jing Yuan said, letting out a laugh yourself, "Oh, don't worry dear. I know how to take care of myself, so there's no need for you to needlessly worry like this!"

She can practically sense the animosity between you two that no one else in the room has apparently picked up on.

But Fu Xuan does admit that seeing Jing Yuan's perfectly crafted smile twitch a bit in annoyance while his eyebrows furrowed a tiny bit did bring her satisfaction - a taste of his own medicine.

So while master Gongshu have wandered off to get a refill, she makes her way over to you with a raised eyebrow, "Trouble in paradise?" she asks lowly, you merely huff in return - turning around to lean on the fence, staring at the various starskiffs in the air, "... No."

"I applaud you for still wanting to lie in front of me," Fu Xuan comments, placing the tray of various snacks beside you for your perusal - you don't grab anything, already lost in thought.

"Is it a needless worry?" you end up asking, Fu Xuan having leaned against the fence herself while having her body turned to face you, "About what? His safety? Yes and no."

"Gee, that helps a lot."

"He's a general, [Name]. An attempt on his life is unfortunately common sense, moreso at this time too being that he had just returned from an expedition and would be by some standards - exhausted and have his senses dulled."

"So why-"

"But it's also because he is a general that precautions are taken. Even if he got delayed or not before coming to the Artisanship Commission, the Cloud Knights stationed had already intercepted the attempt - he would've still been safe."

You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from blurting anything more. In hindsight you were perfectly aware that Jing Yuan would be fine - but you're pretty sure there's not a single lover out there who would not worry about their own husbands' safety if his head had once again been targeted - even if it had been yet another failed attempt.

Before you can admit your wrongdoings to Fu Xuan, you feel an arm slither around your waist - delicate lips pressing against your temple, and from the faint breath Jing Yuan lets out, you can tell he's had a few more to drink than you in the span of your conversation with Fu Xuan.

"... I thought you didn't like to drink that much," you say softly, turning around in his hold only to be met with a smile, "And I thought you weren't going to speak to me?" he whispers back. You merely huff and let his head fall down to your shoulder, sending Fu Xuan a pleading gaze to which she immediately gets without you needing to say anything more - walking over to the crowd of onlookers to step in for both you and Jing Yuan.

"I am still mad," you finally utter after a few minutes of silence between the two of you.

"Whatever can I do to make my beloved not mad at me then?" he asks back in a whisper, careful to not let anyone else hear the two of you. You can tell from your peripheral vision that he's turned his head to face you, although you keep your gaze facing forward.

"Admit you were wrong," you huff, Jing Yuan letting out a low chuckle at how you're still holding onto that stubborness, "I'm pretty sure I saw that you were about to admit that you were wrong to the master diviner, no?"

You don't answer, merely looking away in a silent defiance. The sight making Jing Yuan sigh in amusement, "Alright, I'm sorry dear. I'll make sure to tell you in the future whenever I feel something amiss," he says in the end - but before you can accept that apology, he quickly adds on.

"In return, I do hope you tell me whenever the disciples also target you."

.... Oh.

"... You know you could've made me inform you in any other way than having us argue?" you state, back to your moody self - the switch in mood making your husband laugh, "Not such a great feeling being left in the dark, is it?" he reminds you - and you hate how effective this sort of method is.

So your only reply is to wrap your arms around his waist, "I'm sorry," You can feel his body shake with laughter, his own arms wrapping around your shoulders before you feel his lips pressing themselves at the top of your head, "Now stop being mad, because these few hours were quite tortuous for me."

"You just say that because I usually do all the talking."

"Precisely."

struggled with that ending for 3 days man.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr x you #star rail x reader #star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #x reader #reader insert #generalsmemories 1k event

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fallingstqrss · 5 months

Text

kiss it better

request: can you do a one-shot just like the scene where coryo goes insane because he thinks that the reader left him in the cabin but she didn't and they just go to spend some quality time.

a/n: thank you so much for the request i love this idea!

summary: following the death of Mayflower and Billy Taupe you and coriolanus decide to flee the districts, hoping to avoid the persecution of the peacekeepers. however, when you seem to get lost in the woods coriolanus panics.

warnings: there is a brief description of mayfair's death but it's not detailed. coriolanus might be slightly ooc cause this is my first time writing him but i swear im trying my best.

Coriolanus had made a huge mistake. he hadn't meant to kill Mayfair, he just panicked. He was just going to let her leave but then you walked in, making you a part of Sejanus' horrible plan.

"What's going on?" You spoke, eyes moving from Coriolanus to the weapons that lay on the table. Coriolanus saw as your eyes widened and he hurried to comfort you. "Corio, what's going on?" You questioned again, clutching onto his bicep, hoping for reassurance.

"Y/n, it's gonna be fine-" Coriolanus started, attempting to soothe you as he ran a hand across your cheek.

"Oh, none of you are going to be fine. I'm gonna tell my Daddy what all of you did and he's gonna string you up!" Mayfair spoke in an almost taunting tone. Her threat casts a chilling shadow over the room. As Mayfair turned to leave Spruce, fueled by tension and adrenaline, raised the gun to her back.

"I can't let you leave," Spruce spoke. Y/n took an unconscious step back, recoiling from the potential for violence. Coriolanus could tell you were scared and he felt horrible for being the reason you were involved in this. His mind was racing, he knew he had to get you out of there.

"She's bluffing, she won't actually do anything." Billy Taupe defended, eager to avoid any harm that might come to his girlfriend and to deescalate the growing tension in the room.

"Really? Was I bluffing at the reaping? Tell me Lucy Gray, how did you like your time in the Capitol?" Mayfair spoke, eyes staring at Lucy Gray, who gasped. Mayfair smiled as she turned to leave. Coriolanus jumped at the opportunity, lunging for the weapon on the ground. In a single second Mayfair had fallen to the ground. You gasped, your eyes fixated on Mayfair's fallen figure. Coriolanus was quick to shield you from the unsettling sight, positioning himself in front of you.

"I need you to go home y/n. I'm going to get this figured out. But you need to go home right now and you can't look like anything is wrong," He spoke, his tone firm and filled with urgency. "y/n, please." Coriolanus spoke again when you didn't move. You had stood still, trying to process the events that had just unfolded in front of you. Finally, you looked up at Coriolanus, a nod of reluctant understanding breaking through your shock. You trusted Coriolanus, he would get you guys out of this.

Coriolanus watched you leave, a mixture of relief and worry painted on his face. Once you were out of sight, he turned back to the remaining people in the room. He was determined, now that your safety was at risk nothing else mattered.

That's how the two of you ended up here, walking through the woods, in search of life beyond the districts. Despite some attempts at small talk, the weight of the recent events hung heavily in the air. Coriolanus could sense you were struggling to come to terms with the deaths of Mayfair and, more importantly, your shared friend Sejanus.

"I just don't understand what happened. Sejanus' plan was horrible but he seemed like he was being careful," You rambled on, your voice heavy with confusion and grief. You were unaware of Coriolanus' involvement in the death of your friend. You also didn't notice the tension of the captured Coriolanus at the mention of Sejanus.

"He apparently wasn't careful enough," Coriolanus responded, his tone colder than usual, a deliberate attempt to steer away from the conversation surrounding Sejanus. He longed to focus on the two the two of you would spend together, the new life you could start. Coriolanus was taken aback when you came to an abrupt stop, forcing him to backtrack to stand in front of you. You stared up at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you not mourn for Sejanus at all, Corio?" You spoke, your eyes reflecting the sadness and confusion that weighed you down. Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt for being distant. However, the truth of Sejanus' death was a burden that he couldn't bear to share with you. He knew you would've never forgiven him.

"Of course, I do," Coriolanus spoke, his tone softer now in an attempt to console you. Coriolanus brought a hand to cup your cheek. "But, it was his actions that killed him." You still seemed unsure, offering a careful nod before turning your gaze to the ground. Coriolanus dropped his hand, moving to walk next to you again.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the cabin shown to you by Lucy Gray and the Covey. Coriolanus couldn't shake the feeling of your silence, finding it unsettling. The two of you walked into the cabin, setting your things down. "We should fish for a while, we're going to need some food for the rest of the trip," Coriolanus suggested.

"Lucy Gray said there should be some poles under the floorboards," You spoke, avoiding eye contact with Coriolanus as you hung your belongings on the hooks by the door.

Coriolanus nodded, moving towards the boards he found to be loose. He lifted the boards, his eyes widening as he lifted the sheet to reveal the guns that had been used to kill Mayfair. You observed from across the room, a twinge of concern gracing your features. "What is it, Corio?" You questioned, his familiar nickname being a small sense of comfort in the moment of the unsettling discovery. He remained silent, picking up the gun as he turned to face you. Your breath caught in your chest as you saw the weapon, your mind flashing back to the violent events.

"It's the guns," Coriolanus stated, his eyes moving between the weapon in his arms and you. "This means we can go home," You hummed, nodding in agreement. The revelations held the promise of an escape. The promise of a way home. But, they also unearthed memories Coriolanus knew you could never fully forget.

"I'm going to see if I can find anything to eat around the lake, maybe that one root Lucy Gray mentioned," You spoke quickly, shaking your head as she grabbed one of the small shovels left near the door.

"Y/n, wait," Coriolanus spoke, sensing the uneasy energy that surrounded you. "It could be dangerous," Coriolanus spoke, his protective nature kicking in. You smiled as you recognized his instinct to protect you.

"Well, it's a good thing I've got this," You spoke, attempting a teasing tone as you held up the shovel. You could tell Coriolanus didn't quite believe you and you hurried out of the door. Coriolanus was worried for you but brushed off the interaction, trusting that you could take care of yourself. He rewrapped the guns, hoping to drop them into the lake, burying the echoes of the past.

Coriolanus stepped outside heading towards the boat. His eyes circled his surroundings, hoping to find you. However, he didn't see you. He looked around again, his breathing becoming more ragged as he called out for you. He was met with the horrifying echo of his own voice, no response from you.

You had ventured into the forest after finding that Katniss was not ready to be eaten. You had hoped to find some berries, remembering the ones Maude Ivory had collected for you to eat. You attempted to ignore the way the trees seemed to close in on you, the path you thought you knew being erased. You ignored those thought, you had been going in a straight line, there were no place to get lost along the way.

"They should be up here," You whispered to yourself, letting out a sigh as you hoped to break the silence that lay within the forest. The rustling leaves and distant calls of birds engulfed you as you moved throughout the forest.

You had been walking for a while, looking around you realized you have never been in this part of the forest, a sign that you had gone way too far. You turned in various directions, spinning around as you searched for the way you came. Panic began to set in as you quickened your pace, unfortunately leading you to venture deeper and deeper into the forest.

In her disoriented state, you failed to see the root sticking out of the ground. Her foot caught on the root, causing you to stumble forward. Desperation clawed at you as you tried to regain your balance. However, the forest had other plans.

A divot in the ground forced you to the ground as your hands reached out to break your fall. The forest floor met you with a sickening thud, your head colliding with a moss-covered rock. The world around you spun, the pain in your head intensifying with every breath you took. As your consciousness slipped away, the forest seemed to blur into a blend of green and brown, the shadows seeming to dance together in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Back at the cabin Coriolanus grew restless as he awaited your return. The seconds felt like hours as he stared at the tree line, willing you to appear. Finally, Coriolanus was sick of waiting and decided that he would find you himself.

As he ventured into the forest the trees seemed to swallow him. His breaths came out fast, each step propelling him further into the silent forest. Anxiety was clawing at his chest, hundreds of what-ifs raced in his mind.

"Y/n? Did something happen? If something happens we can talk about it!" Coriolanus shouted, pausing as he awaited a response. But he didn't receive one, he only had the rustling leaves to greet him. The silence that surrounded him was deafening.

"Y/n, please say something. I need to know you're okay," He pleaded again. The forest remained silent, offering no hope to comfort his growing concern. Fear painted vivid scenarios in his head, each one darker than the last.

"Please, y/n, if I did something I'm so sorry. We don't even have to talk about it, please just come back with me." Coriolanus pleaded. His pleas became more urgent. His mood shifted from worry to complete despare quickly.

"Please, I can't lose you too." He spoke, this plea much quieter than the previous ones. His voice broke as he spoke, his eyes searching for any clue of you. His steps quickened as he moved around the forest, his handles trembling as he pushed branches out of his way.

"Please, y/n," He called one more time, assuming the worst. He'd come to the conclusion that you left him. It was either that or you were dead, but he couldn't bring himself to grasp the idea that you were dead.

Unbeknownst to Coriolanus, you began to stir on the forest floor. The pain in your head still lingered but the sound of someone's voice distracted you from the pain. You listened more closely as you tried to sit up. Your senses were snapped back into reality when you realized that it was Coriolanus' voice you were hearing. The closer you listened you realized how distressed he sounded and it practically broke your heart. You listened again to his ever-present calls, trying to hear which direction they were coming from, his voice acting as a life-line.

"Corio," you called out weakly, standing as you braced yourself on one of the trees. Coriolanus' head snapped in the direction of your voice. He hurried in that direction, his eyes wide with fear and relief. "Coriolanus," You called out again, wondering if you had imagined him calling for you.

"Hang on y/n! I'm coming," He spoke. Relief washed over him when he finally saw you leaning up against one of the trees, Coriolanus rushed towards you. In your disoriented state you barely even realized he had found you until he engulfed you in his arms. Your senses finally started to come back to you as you reciprocated the embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Coriolanus pulled away for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, he could hardly believe he'd actually found you. He'd thought you were gone for good. Your eyes met his, being met with a vulnerability from Coriolanus you'd never seen before. Coriolanus hated the way you made him felt. He hated how worried he always was for you. But, he also couldn't deny how much he loved you.

"What happened?" Coriolanus finally spoke, brushing your hair out of your face to examine the cut on your forehead.

"I was looking for those berries, the ones Maude Ivory showed us and I got lost, and then I think I tripped," you began to ramble, stopping yourself to take a breath before speaking again, "It's all kind of a blur." Coriolanus nodded as he processed what you said, unraveling his arms from you as he wrapped an arm around your waist to help guide you back to the cabin.

"Well, I think we should get you back to the cabin," Coriolanus spoke and you laughed as you nodded. You'd had enough of the woods.

Back at the cabin Coriolanus used one of the med-kits you'd brought to clean you up. Your heart swelled at how gentle he was, his hands moving cautiously over your face.

"So, will I survive?" You questioned, a smile gracing your features.

"I think you'll be okay," Coriolanus responded, a smile of his own coming across his face. But, you could tell the smile didn't meet his eyes. You could tell something was still bothering him. The sunlight pouring in from the windows illuminated the worry that was still present in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the fear he'd felt when he thought you'd abandoned him in the forest.

When Coriolanus finished cleaning the wound he set the supplies to the side and leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on the spot he'd just tended to. The warmth of his lips lingered on your forehead, a comforting gesture that transcended the physical healing.

"There, kissed it better." Coriolanus whispered as he moved away from you, cleaning up the remaining supplies of the med-kit.

Despite his comforting gesture, you couldn't ignore the concern that was still etched on his face. As he finished putting the med-kit away he turned to look at you, being met with your questioning gaze. "Corio, you've been on edge since we got back. What's wrong?" You questioned him, taking a couple steps closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his waist.

Coriolanus hesitated, his eyes betraying his turmoil of emotions. He opened his mouth to respond but the words got caught in his throat. Tension lingered in the air as you searched his face for clues on what he was feeling.

"It's nothing, y/n. Just a scare, that's all. Everything is fine." Coriolanus spoke. However, despite his attempts to comfort you, you could still sense his unease. You reached upwards, cupping his face to draw his attention.

"Come on, Corio. Talk to me," You spoke. Coriolanus sighed, he was torn between his desire to shield you from his concerns and the intimacy the two of you had always shared. Eventually, he gave in.

"I just... I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you. losing you in the woods, even if it was just for a moment, it terrified me." Coriolanus confessed softly. Your eyes softened at his confession.

"I'm right here, Corio. I'm not going anywhere." You assured, he nodded. "I love you, Coriolanus. Wherever you go, I'm gonna be there." You spoke, his words caught him off guard. The two of you had never used the word love.

"Y/n..." Coriolanus started, his eyes moving away from you. However, your hold on his face forced his attention back onto you. "I've never been good at this, relationships. I'm afraid of losing you, of not being enough." You nodded, you understood Coriolanus' insecurities as he'd previously voiced some of his concerns to you.

"Corio," You took a step closer, "I love you for who you are. I don't need you to be perfect." You assured him. Your words hung in the air, in that moment, leaning into Coriolanus, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. Coriolanus, having been initially surprised by the kiss, eventually surrenders to the kiss. When the two of you pulled away you spoke again. "I want to go back to the Capitol, Corio."

Coriolanus looked surprised but that was overtaken by a look of happiness. He wanted nothing more than to return to his home and family, and now that you did too there was nothing stopping the two of you. "Wherever you wanna go, I'll follow you." Coriolanus spoke, repeating the words you'd said earlier, you smiled at him.

The decision being made, the two of you faced what leaving the woods meant. Coriolanus worked to dispose of the guns while you packed the remaining items you had at the cabin. As you walked out of the door you saw him pushing the boat back to shore. Coriolanus jumped out of the boat, outstretching his hand for you. You smiled at the gesture, moving to meet him, enclosing his hand with your own.

#coriolanus #coriolanussnow #snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #president snow x reader #president snow #ballad #balladofsongbirdsandsnakes #thehungergames #hungergames #lucygraybaird #sejanus #sejanusplinth #corio x reader

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wosoamazing · 2 months

Text

There is no 'I' in Team

Summary: Based on this request.

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of Abuse Father (reading also asking not to be hit etc)

A/N: I hope you like it.

The media was relishing your appearance, every reporter had thrown your name out in whatever interview they were doing, you were in stories on the front cover of the news.

“The 14 year old power house” “Some of football's greatest legends have honoured this youngster” “Beckham: That kid is insane, a star”

______

“And she missed, straight over the crossbar. What a rare sight to see,”

“Yes, yes, yes, ohh, missed opportunity again, it went wide”

“Fantastic save by Mary Earps”

"Wide yet again. She has had 40 attempts this game and only 2 on target, both of which Earps has saved,"

Australia lost the world cup to England, you felt like it was your fault, the media decided it was your fault, you were still plastered all over the media, however in a different light this time.

"Has the wonder kid lost her Wonder?" "A gold medal gone, was Y/F/N Y/L/N the right choice?" "Wonder if Beckham still thinks she is a star"

After the game you were incredibly disappointed in yourself and upset, and angry with yourself, you really questioned whether you were the best player of the team, the night you recieved a silver medal at the world cup was not celebrated by you. You were upset and so was the rest of the team, however they all still celebrated, but how could you when you were the reason the heavy disc that hung round their necks was silver and not gold. You were the only one that night who still had tears of sadness falling from your eyes as you went up to collect your medal, you still had sad tears in your eyes as you arrived back to your hotel room. Most of your teammates had left the celebrations to talk to you and comfort you at some point during the night. starting with the obvious ones, Caitlin, then Steph, then Sam, and ending with the not so obvious pick, Kyra, you and Kyra were very close friends it was just that the girls didn't think she would be able to help you in the way you needed. You didn't say a single word to any of them, you just continued to cry, as you remained in your tight coil on the bed.

You didn't talk to anyone about football for months, or even just in general, you tried your best to avoid everyone, you couldn't kick the feeling of knowing you had disappointed them. After training you would just go straight up to your room and lock yourself in, only appearing for dinner. Katie and Caitlin your newly adoptive parents were growing concerned, and were trying to figure out how they could discuss what was going on with you.

______

The opening match for the season hadn't gone that well for you, your shots weren't going in, which made you frustrated and with every off target shot your frustration grew. You couldn't wait for the final whistle to be blown, you just wanted to get off the pitch.

You were near the commentators as the whistle was blown, you could hear their debrief and opinions on the game, the players, more specifically you “As a coach you would be starting to think about changing your go to line up, off days happen, but this, this is different, from being up there with the best of the best, to missing the most basic shots, the shots that should 100% go in. Shots that caused your country to come second.”

You felt your breath hitch at that moment, the reminder you were the reason you came second, the reminder of how you let down your team, your whole country. Suddenly you could feel every single beat of your heart, you could hear blood rushing past your ears, you ran down the tunnel through the locker room and into one of the bathroom stalls, quickly locking the door before sliding down the wall. Curling yourself in a tight ball, hiding yourself away from the world.

Your Dad’s words racing through your mind “You’re a let down, a failure. A complete waste of space.” You never believed him but maybe he was right, maybe the abusive bastard was actually correct, what if you were wrong, what if you didn’t deserve a new life. What if Katie and Caitlin didn’t actually want you, what if they weren’t actually proud of you, what if they were ashamed of you, what if you were a waste of their time, what if they hated you.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone standing near you. How did they get through the locked door? Were you so incredibly hopeless that you couldn't even lock a door? They took a step forward, and you felt your body start shaking slightly, coiling yourself into a tighter ball.

“Please don’t hit me, I’m sorry, I know I'm a waste of space.” you felt a hand on you, however it wasn’t a painful touch, it was a soft comforting hand, but you couldn't risk it, trying to move out of the grip of the persons hand, however soon they had both hands on you, slightly gripping onto you so you couldn’t move away.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I’ll leave, I know you’re ashamed of me”

“Baby girl it's okay, it's just me, I’m safe, I’m not going to hit you, I love you, it’s okay, everything is alright,” They said in a very soft, calm voice as they moved you into their lap. A familiar scent met your nose it was Katie, you slightly relaxed at her presence, but quickly tensed again, what if she thought you were a burden, you felt like you were swaying, your head felt foggy, you felt sick, your body was shaking, your face was wet from your streaming tears.

You felt the hands wrap around you tighten, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, can you take some deep breaths for me? Like we practise.” You took some deep breaths. “Good Job,” you sat there with Katie for a few minutes.

“How about you have a shower and then we can talk. Okay?” you nod, “But just know that Caitlin and I love you so much, and we are very proud of you and we are so happy you came into our lives, and I promise that is not a lie” you stand up with her and give her a big hug before going to shower, you almost hated the way she knew what you were thinking, almost always. While you were showering no one came into the shower, which you thought was weird, until you walked out of the showers and saw everyone standing there huddled around Katie.

Katie noticed you were standing there. “You ready to talk?” you nodded slinkishly, “come here” she sat down and gestured for you to sit down on her lap, you willingly went over, and sat on her lap. Caitlin sat next to the both of you.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked you “I’m not good enough”

“Why do you think that?” Caitlin queried.

“We lost the final because of me. And now we lost because I couldn't shoot,” you took a deep breath and paused for a moment “Maybe i shouldn't have become a footballer” you sad before a small sob left your body.

“Hey, we came second because of you, we wouldn’t have been in that match if it wasn’t for you. It doesn’t matter what they say, if you weren’t on our team we wouldn’t have been in that match.” Steph told you.

“You know, you are amazing kid, it’s okay to have off days, off weeks and off months, its okay, and it’s not fair for anyone but especially yourself to blame losses on yourself, its a team sport, we win as a team and we lose as a team” Leah told you and you just nodded your head, the whole team reassured you that you were still good and an excellent player even though you were having some off days, you had calmed down but the team stayed where they were for a little longer, to show you that they were there for you.

The team went off to shower eventually, but Katie did not, you just stayed sitting in her lap, soaking up her warm embrace. “What if we invited some of the girls over for a movie night tonight, would you like that? They could even sleep over.” You nodded your head.

That evening you found yourself surrounded by your teams as you watched a movie, they all really cared about you and supported you, so you made yourself a promise that you would start to try and open up to them more.

#woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine

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taexual · 3 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 19 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, ANGST & FLUFF (i mean it, watch out), SLOW BURN

words: 14.5k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 19 ► so dig two graves, ‘cause when you die, i swear i’ll be leaving by your side

When the tour bus arrived in Glasgow, you realised that you had slept perhaps a quarter of an hour in total tonight. Discomfort and Regret had become unwelcome companions that kept you up.

Last night, you had planned to talk to Jungkook, but he flipped the script and did all the talking instead. And if you had to describe your choices from then on, you’d have to accept that, essentially, you had run away without saying anything.

You realised now, through tossing and turning in your bunk the whole bus journey, that this was your recurring pattern.

When you and Jungkook first broke up, you’d barricaded yourself in your apartment and only ventured outside when it was unavoidable, like to go to work. Or when your friends forced you out of bed. They tolerated your need for silence in moderation—a few days of self-imposed isolation were okay. But two consecutive weeks was a little excessive.

In Stockholm, the impulse to run away had gripped you right after your conversation on the bridge sank abruptly in the waters below. In Oslo, you had actually run away after you’d almost kissed. You could still feel the shivers on your skin from the cold night air on the rooftop terrace. And, of course, you’d also planned to avoid him when you arrived in Manchester.

It was a pattern that was doomed to end in failure every time, yet you stubbornly refused to give it up.

You wanted to escape the feelings that frightened you, but they only ran faster. They chased after you like daunting shadows. They caught up with you. They engulfed you.

This perpetual cycle wasn’t just futile, it was also unfair—to you and to Jungkook. And to Rated Riot, too.

It had gone on for too long.

You were determined to redeem that today.

While Jungkook and the boys were doing an interview on a local radio station after the soundcheck, you chose to stay at the venue to work. Initially, you only intended to answer internal company emails and update the label executives, but unsurprisingly, that morphed into more tasks that needed your immediate attention.

Seated at your laptop in the band’s dressing room, you spent a good couple of hours finalising Rated Riot’s schedule for the rest of the week, emailing back journalists and verifying their credentials before issuing backstage passes for upcoming interviews, and humming along to a tune playing in your headphones.

It was then—during the chorus of an old Bad Omens song that was loud and messy enough to keep your mind alert and focused—that Seokjin decided to tap you on the back.

You jumped up as high as it was humanly possible and pushed your laptop away as if to protect it from intruders—which was what your mind assumed Seokjin to be, apparently. He took a step back, shocked and very entertained by your violent startle.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, attempting to suppress a smile. “You’ve been—you’ve been working here by yourself for hours. I’m taking a coffee break. Want to join me?”

With one hand pressed to your chest, you slid your headphones off and checked the time on the corner of your laptop screen. “Uh, sure. Coffee sounds nice.”

The two of you found a quaint café a few blocks from Barrowland where Rated Riot would be playing later that evening. But despite the cosy setting, you chose to grab your coffee to-go. It was a warm, sunny day outside. Seokjin thought you could use some fresh air.

“So,” he said eagerly, as soon as the café bell tinkled, announcing your exit, “what’s on your mind?”

You met his question with surprise. “What do you mean?”

He maintained an air of nonchalance, sipping his Americano and observing casually, “your pupils are massive. You look like you’re planning a revolution. Or a massacre.”

You took a sip of your drink and regretted not stirring the caramel in better. You wondered what it would be by the end of tonight: revolution or massacre.

“I was—well, it’s nothing much,” you said. “I was just thinking that things might be different when we got home.”

“How so?”

The two of you crossed the street towards a small, vibrant green space—not quite a park—with a tree-lined pathway in the middle and an old blue police box nearby, reminiscent of Doctor Who.

“Well,” you said, “I hear Brazil is really nice that time of year.”

“You’re thinking of going on holiday?” Seokjin asked, surprised. He’s known you since you joined the company, even before you started to manage Rated Riot, and he was well aware of your lack of holidays. The HR department, however, remained blissfully ignorant about it.

You shrugged. “For starters.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll see.”

The ambiguity in your response wasn’t worrying in itself, but combined with your reluctance to meet his gaze and the intense concentration on your coffee—even though you winced every time you took a sip—it was certainly alarming.

“You’re not… going to quit, are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard about Reconnaissance.”

Of course, he’d heard. At this point, enough people knew about it for the news to have a ripple effect and circulate backstage.

“No,” you said, trying to dispel the tension with an airy laugh. “Of course not.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’d find a replacement first.”

Seokjin’s casual stride came to an abrupt halt. A few steps ahead, you realised he’d stopped and turned around.

“No,” he said.

His firm declaration made you stutter. “Th-that—that wasn’t a question.”

“And that’s not an option,” he argued. “You can’t quit.”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving for sure. I’m just saying that if I did leave, you wouldn’t even notice the difference,” you said. “I’m a very good teacher.”

With that, you started to walk away, leaving him little choice but to catch up.

“And I love all of you guys,” you continued while Seokjin grunted next to you. “I wouldn’t leave you with someone I didn’t personally trust to take care of you and the band.”

He shook his head, his determination unwavering. If he had known about the band members’ conviction that no one would blame you if you left Rated Riot due to the alluring offer from Reconnaissance, Seokjin might have been tempted to express his disagreement with his fists.

Of course, people would blame you—Seokjin was the people in question.

You belonged here. You were an essential part of the team.

He was convinced of this, and he was going to be annoying about it.

“Okay, I appreciate that,” he said, his tone tinged with incredulity. “Except, what the fuck are you thinking? Of course, we’d notice the difference! You’re you. We love you.”

“That means a lot—”

“But not enough?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his anger. “No, it’s—”

“Alright, look.” He stopped walking again, the paper cup of coffee in his hand more of an accessory than a beverage. “Is this about Jungkook?”

An unexpected heat surged through you and a cascade of excuses immediately raced through your mind. You scanned the pathway, reading the names of the bands imprinted into the pavement with colourful stripes—artists who’d performed at Barrowland before, you assumed—so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

But this was Seokjin. If there was anyone who knew everything that was going on in the band, it was him. You didn’t want to give him pretend reasons.

“In part,” you admitted.

“Well, if that’s the case, then it’s an even more definite no,” he asserted, his resolve unyielding.

You sighed and attempted to smile, but there was a hint of awkwardness in your expression. “I’m not taking votes, Jin. I’ll talk to Jungkook about this, and—”

“You can talk to anyone you like. All the gods you can find, even,” he interrupted. “But you’re not leaving.”

“Jin—”

“Look, when you accepted this job, the fact that you and Jungkook used to know each other didn’t matter,” he stated, tactfully omitting the word ‘relationship’—a nuance you appreciated. “What difference does it make now?”

As you bit your lip and lowered your eyes, Seokjin sensed that there was a difference, after all. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t entirely up to speed on everything that was happening on the tour, after all.

“Okay, you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m not asking you to,” he said, his words gentle, but his tone strict. “What I’m saying is that nobody cares. You can date, you can break up, you can—I don’t know. You can pretty much do anything as long as you don’t kill each other. No one cares.”

“The label cares,” you blurted, the words unpolished and agitated. “I care.”

He waved his free hand dismissively. “The label cares about profit. We’re making a profit from you both. Maybe even more when you’re together because you’re both less annoying that way.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How are we annoying?”

“Are you kidding? All mopey and sulky?” He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag. “You make me sick and miserable.”

You snickered softly at the dramatic display. “Fair. Sorry. But fact is, it’s still a good opportunity.”

“Well, sure,” he conceded. “But is that really the reason you want to leave? Or is it because you think that what you’re doing with Jungkook is wrong? You think others will disapprove or think less of you. You think this is highly unprofessional, and it would make more sense to work elsewhere.”

It felt oddly incongruous to hear him articulate—so easily, without a moment’s hesitation—everything that you had been thinking.

“Well, that’s a factor, too, of course…” you said, your voice faltering.

“I think that’s the main factor.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you mumbled, “I think you think too much.”

“I think you don’t think enough,” he countered. “You can’t leave, not even for Reconnaissance. You’re part of the team, our team. We all are.”

You looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly—waiting, clearly, for you to admit defeat.

While you didn’t technically need his consent to quit, the sheer determination in his stance made you feel as though his approval was, indeed, a prerequisite for anyone choosing to leave.

“Now you’re making me feel guilty,” you said.

“As you should!” he said—nearly bellowing in his frustration. “But you should feel guilty about mistakenly thinking that you should leave. Not about being in love with him.”

His words struck a deep chord and your heart began to rattle violently in your chest. “I’m—right. Yeah. I need to talk to him about—about everything.”

His tone softened at your reaction.

“I think you should sit down for ten minutes and gather your thoughts before you do that,” he advised. “You should sit and accept that we don’t care if you go out with Jungkook. Whatever you decide, we’re all cool with it. As long as you are, too.”

Afraid that your eyes would betray your thoughts, you shifted your gaze to the silver barks of the graceful birch trees around you. “Do you know about the bet?”

Seokjin took a slow sip of his coffee to allow more time between these overlapping conversations.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is that... uh, have you two worked it out?”

“We’ve—I think we have. I think the bet wasn’t even the main issue, actually, it just—it sort of highlighted all our problems,” you admitted. “We—we’ll have to work through the rest.”

“Right. Okay,” he said. The sun rolled out from behind the buildings, casting a golden glow on the trees and the empty path ahead of you. He squinted and took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “Well, then I can safely tell you that everyone backstage knows about it.”

The disappointment on your face was absolute. “Oh. That—that’s lovely.”

He smiled sympathetically as the two of you continued down the faintly coloured path. Despite the sunshine, the cool breeze toyed relentlessly with the edges of your jackets.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though,” he said. “It’s nothing more than a silly joke backstage. We’re not judging either of you.”

You did worry about it. “What… do you mean by ‘silly joke,’ exactly?”

The two of you arrived at a large sycamore tree with leaves that glimmered in emerald hues under the sun, and Seokjin stopped, grateful for the shade.

“One of the roadies started it,” he explained. “It was just a game. A bet, actually! Funny.” He chuckled at the irony, but stopped himself when he noticed your stoic expression. “Anyway. Someone suggested that Jungkook’s friends were trying to sabotage your relationship by making this bet with him. So, we bet on Jungkook fighting his friends for you. Which—that cost me money, actually. When he showed up at the airport in Cologne with a black eye, I lost fifty euros.”

It took you a minute to process this, and you felt so uncomfortable that your fists itched with an urge to fight someone, too.

“You—so, you bet that he wouldn’t fight his friends?” you clarified, almost hopeful.

“No. I bet that he would,” he said. “But I got too big-headed and bragged about how he wouldn’t miss a single punch. So, everyone claimed that I lost and took my money. Really, I thought he knew how to fight. And he was doing it for a noble cause.” A dramatic pause ensued, and then Seokjin smirked. “I mean you, by the way.”

“No, yeah, I got that,” you said bitterly. “But you didn’t even know the actual—everyone just assumed he had a black eye because of me?”

He pulled his lips together to stifle a chuckle as he moved his cup of coffee away.

“Can you blame us?” he asked with a leisurely shrug. “He’s in love with you, and his friends are complete idiots. And then he shows up with a black eye! The dots connected themselves. Although, personally, I thought Luna or Maggie could have socked him in the eye, too. You three are very protective of each other.”

You tilted your head, your posture a warning. “I see. So, we’re a telenovela to you. Did you bet that I would knock someone out if I found out what you were up to?”

“Not yet,” he said, clearly delighted by the prospect of this happening in the future.

“Did you get your money back at least?”

“Yeah. But then I lost it again.”

The leaves of the sycamore tree rustled impatiently as you groaned. “How?”

“Another bet,” he said. “Some people—including Jimin, by the way—thought that Jungkook’s friends would never come to another Rated Riot show. In the UK specifically. We were very specific about the details in this bet.”

“Right, of course.”

He smirked, unapologetic about the amusement he derived from this. There were all sorts of games happening backstage at any given point in the tour; nearly everything became a joke here. And Seokjin hoped to show you that yes, people did know about you and Jungkook. But unless they could find ways to make it funny, they didn’t care.

He could tell that the more he talked to you about this, the more you started to recognise the absurdity of it all, too.

“Right. Well, Jimin won that round. I actually—I thought Jungkook would change his mind and bring his friends back,” Seokjin confessed. “Serves me right. I should have trusted him more.”

You raised your cup in his direction.

“Yeah,” you said. “Serves you right for making bets about this. He blacklisted Sid.”

“He—oh!” Seokjin seemed very pleased to hear this. “Well, that was worth my money, then.”

“Hmm.”

He grinned, the mischief still lingering in his eyes.

“We have another bet going on,” he said.

“Anoth—well, of course.” Your teeth dug into the coffee lid as you tried to take a sip, but reconsidered. “So, what? Who’s getting a black eye this time?”

“It’s whether you’ll get back together.”

Your irritation wavered in surprise. A rustling stirred inside you as though you had swallowed the wind and carried it within.

“Well,” you said. “Where’d you place your bets?”

“Drink your coffee,” he said. You did. It had cooled and turned unpleasantly sweet as the caramel settled. “I haven’t bet on that yet. But if you told me if you’re considering going back to him, I could win my money back.”

You made sure to swallow before looking up.

“That’s not solely up to me, though,” you said, sensing an obvious defensive undertone in your own voice. You didn’t make much effort to conceal it; he would have read right through you anyway. “A relationship typically involves two people. I can’t force him to be in it.”

Seokjin offered a patient smile.

“Please,” he said. “Everyone knows he’d burn down half of Europe for you.”

You swallowed again.

It was just you. The only one still fighting it.

“Well, in any case—” Seokjin said, distracted, suddenly, by a particularly cheeky pigeon that kept flying up to your ankles, then to your knees. “That bird is going to steal your coffee.”

You glanced down, and the shift in your position frightened the pigeon into flying a few metres away. Seokjin nodded in approval.

“Anyway,” he said. “What I meant to say is that I don’t know how much my opinion is worth, but if the only reason you’re considering quitting is because of this, then that’s nothing. You sit down, you work through your problems, you get back together, and you’re good to go. Well, good to stay. It’s up to you. No one else cares.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Everyone’s talking. They’re making bets about us. We—we’re a joke backstage. And yet you think we should get back together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Give us something else to bet on.”

Exasperation flashed across your face. “I’m thinking I’d like to sic that pigeon on you a little bit.”

“Oh, but what would you do without me?” He was grinning in a manner so endearing and genuine that you felt your lips stretch into a defeated smile as well. “You know we’re family. That is what we do. And you said it yourself – everyone’s already talking. And no one’s truly bothered by it. You might as well do what you want.”

You took a big gulp of your coffee to finish it.

Some of the humour faded from his eyes while he watched you. He looked around—to make sure the pigeon hadn’t returned and to gather his thoughts.

“Just think about it, okay?” he said. “You know how they say ‘measure twice, cut once’? Why don’t you measure three times? Four, even. Five. Or, I don’t know, as many times as it takes until you realise that there’s no need to cut anything. Everything’s great as it is.”

Your face felt warm. “That’s very profound.”

“It is.” He nodded, his exaggerated confidence faltering a little when he saw the gratitude in your eyes and suddenly found himself timid. “I’ve also got a few carpentry jokes if you’re in the mood for those.”

Laughing finally, you shook your head. “Maybe later. But thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “And notice how I’m not saying ‘anytime’? Because there can’t be another time that this happens. In fact, the next time I see you, it’ll be as if we never had this conversation.”

Still smiling despite his threatening tone, you put your palm to your forehead and extended your fingers in a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He nodded, content with your response.

“Now go back to that café and bring me a scone,” he ordered, his expression bright again. “I got distracted by your misery and forgot to buy one.”

You snorted and nodded—you did owe him a scone, at the very least. Seokjin stepped deeper into the shade by the tree and waited while you jogged back towards the café. He looked up to see your lighthearted expression reflected in the window across the street and felt himself exhale in relief.

He’d done his job—you knew everyone needed you here.

You returned to the venue with enough scones for the whole staff, and as you passed them out, almost everyone on the team regarded you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. It was a nice change from their earlier concerns about your health, but you still felt uncomfortable.

There was an obvious reason you enjoyed working backstage: here, you successfully evaded the spotlight. You did your work quietly and got to spend time with your friends.

But lately, you’d been feeling everyone’s eyes on you and, naturally, your instinctive reaction was to flee. Really, this had to be inherent; you wondered if your brother shared a similar flight-or-flight-never-fight response when confronted with an uncomfortable situation.

And still, you forced yourself to wait.

Following your conversation with Seokjin, you decided on the key points that you needed to discuss with Jungkook. And they were simple: share your thoughts with him and make a decision together.

You’ve never really tried this with him before; open communication was a recent development for the two of you. But you meant what you told Seokjin: a relationship involved two people. And regardless of what -ship you and Jungkook were currently in, your decisions still influenced his, and his influenced yours.

You had hoped to speak to him after he returned from his interview, but it was almost funny how time worked against you today.

After the band returned, you went to help Jungkook with his bandages, and the company executives decided to respond to your email with a phone call. And so, you were forced to stay on the phone with the label the whole time before Rated Riot went on stage.

That was okay. You figured you would talk to Jungkook later.

But later just wouldn’t come.

After the concert, you waited for the band to finish taking pictures with their fans before you took them to another interview with several more radio hosts. And when you returned to the bus, the curtains on Jungkook’s bunk were drawn. You didn’t want to wake him in case he was asleep.

The only time you finally had direct contact with Jungkook was on the plane to London. He surprised you by approaching you from behind and casually lifting your carry-on to the overhead compartment. Then, as though he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, he turned around to return to his seat.

“Wait,” you called out. “Can I—can we talk? Yoongi said he’d switch seats with me.”

Jungkook stopped, his stomach sinking. He was the undefeated champion of misinterpreting situations—he hadn’t forgotten how your conversation had ended last night, but he still thought this was about Sid.

Because while you were beating yourself up about your avoidant tendencies, Jungkook was grappling with a different problem.

Since this morning, he had been bombarded with incessant text messages from an unknown number that ranged from vaguely bothersome (“UR SO DUMB LMSAO”) to genuinely threatening (“DNOT THINK THS IS OVER YOU FUCKVING CUNT”). All texts contained a certain distinctiveness: full capitalisation, typos, and a disturbing scent of wounded ego.

It was Sid, Jungkook was absolutely sure of it.

He seemed to be in a white powder induced frenzy, which wasn’t particularly unusual—Jungkook didn’t think he could remember the last time Sid had been completely sober—but the frequency of the texts was a little unsettling. Jungkook thought the bet was over now, even if Sid wasn’t satisfied. But clearly, Sid was craving something more.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how you would know about this or why you would bring it up now, but he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again, and he thought this had to be the reason why.

“Sure,” he said, trying to mask his apprehension. He turned on airplane mode on his phone and looked up. “What’s, uh—what’s going on?”

You gestured at his seat. He sat down with bated breath—as if his life was about to change and he needed to brace for it—and waited for you to settle beside him.

“I wanted to, uh, explain myself,” you began as the plane filled. The rhythmic sound of people shuffling across the aisle was oddly soothing. Jungkook, however, appeared perplexed. “And to thank you, actually. For being there when I—well, when all of that happened. I’m sorry I caused—”

“You’ve already thanked me,” he interjected. “And you better not tell me that you’re apologising for fainting right now.”

“I’m—well, I’m just saying, you were right,” you said, disheartened by the disbelief in his eyes. You placed your water bottle on the fold-out tray and shifted in your seat. “I should have known better. Rested more. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry I didn’t listen, and it all led to... that.”

He sighed. This wasn’t about Sid; this was about something worse.

“That’s who you are, though,” he said. He should have known this would be something you would blame yourself for once you recovered. “You always have to get everything done, or you—you can’t sleep. You need to, uh, work on that, but you don’t need to apologise for it.”

You looked down, tracing a shaky finger over the armrest between your seats.

“And,” he added before you could speak, “to be fair, a lot of things that happened on tour were actually out of your control. You had no choice but to put in extra time and effort, I guess. The stage constructions collapsed, the venue was flooded—”

“Right, but these—well, anyway,” you cut yourself off, reverting to your original train of thought. “I’m sorry you had to drop everything a-and worry about me. Well, not just you; the whole thing ended up being a big scene that disrupted everyone. But I—I wanted to say this to you, first of all.”

He observed you for a long moment. Between the truce you’ve decided on in your hotel room, the conversation he’d overheard about your meeting with Nick, and the disturbing messages from an unknown number, Jungkook was having a hard time comprehending what he’d done to warrant an apology from you right now.

Then, a troubling thought occurred to him: what if this was your way of saying goodbye?

He had let you go last night. What if you had decided to leave, and this was the prelude to the end of your time together?

“I’m—I didn’t have to do it,” he said. “I did it because I—well, I mean, you were passed out. Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned forward in his seat. “It kind of sounds like you’re forgetting that you’re not just the manager here. You’re also my—uh, y-you’re our friend. We all would have acted the same way if it had been anyone else. It’s an ‘all for one, and one for all’ situation with us. You know that.”

He was right; your team had grown so close that none of you would have hesitated to help each other. Your unease simply stemmed from the fact that you were the one receiving help this time.

You swallowed. You thought you owed him an explanation about everything, but you haven’t even really gotten to it yet.

“Thank you,” you said. “For what you said and—and for what you did. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He gave you a hesitant smile. “Was I really so terrible at taking care of you that it made you change your workaholic ways?”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised by the gentle teasing in his words.

“No, you di—you were great. Except for the fact that you didn’t need to do that,” you said, shooting him a look that he promptly rolled his eyes at. You added, “I say that with gratitude, of course. But, um, I felt very uncomfortable just lying there while everyone else—well, can’t let that happen again. Anyway, this isn’t—”

“I hope it won’t happen again,” he interrupted. “But it’s—well, you’ve spent your whole life taking care of... everything. Your brother, your mum, uh, e-even me. It’s second nature to you, I don’t know how else to—you can’t help but actively try to fix things. So, I-I don’t mind being the person who reminds you to take it easy sometimes. I just want you to listen.”

He’d said something very similar to you last night and you dug your teeth into your lower lip so you wouldn’t argue.

You thought you weren’t doing a very good job of fixing things—nevermind that you’ve subconsciously turned absolutely everything around you into your personal responsibility, and it was simply unrealistic to take care of it all.

“Thank you,” you chose to say. “I just, um—I don’t want you to think I’m talking to you so you’d make me feel better. You don’t need to do that. And it’s my turn to expla—”

He whipped his head to look at you so suddenly—an almost offended expression on his face—that the rest of your sentence got caught in your throat.

“Wh—why do you always think that?” he asked. “That I do something for you because I feel like I have to?”

“I don’t—I know you’re not—ah.” Leaning back in your seat, you attempted to rearrange your thoughts as if you were shuffling stubborn cards in a deck—trying to find the one you needed to win a game against yourself. “That’s not even the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” he said, a little worried. “What is the main thing?”

It took you a moment to find your breath.

“The conversation that we had last night—well, not just last night, actually, it’s been happening for a while. But, uh, last night specifically—it wasn’t supposed to end like that,” you said. He lowered his eyes. “That’s what I wanted to, um—to bring up. Because we’re not talking again, you know? I mean—okay. That’s not true. You are talking. But I’m not. I-I think it’s still new to me that we’re—that we’re actually talking about things. About everything. I’m sorry I haven’t said much to you in return.”

You exhaled when you finished speaking—finished stammering, really—but you didn’t feel relieved. There was a lot more you had to say.

Jungkook, on the other hand, felt his thoughts drift back to Amsterdam once again, when he had entered your hotel room to apologise, and you told him you forgave him and apologised in return. He remembered the pained, laboured beating of his heart as he listened to you—thinking, all the while, that he had no right to want you all for himself.

Now, he had some additional time to think about how to respond, because the flight attendant started the safety demonstration at the front of the plane, preparing for take-off.

He fastened his seatbelt, relieved by the silence on his phone—but the quiet pause between you as the plane lifted off the runway felt very loud in his head.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes, “you find the weirdest things to feel guilty about.”

You furrowed your brows while Jungkook idly twirled the onyx signet ring on his index finger.

“You’re never obligated to respond to what I tell you,” he said. “I didn’t say any of those things to you in Manchester in exchange for your immediate forgiveness, or for some similar stories, or for—anything, really. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you everything, and that’s it.”

“I-I get that,” you shifted in your seat, restricted by the seatbelt, “but I’m your manager. And I-I left you in a confusing, stressful situation by yourself when I refused to talk to you right away. That was—it was unprofessional at best, and cruel at—”

“You’re more than that to me, though,” he cut in. You gripped the armrest tighter. “You know that. And you didn’t… leave me in that situation as my manager. You left me there as my ex-girlfriend. You have that right. You were confused and stressed, too.”

Your gaze slid over his black and grey flannel and the t-shirt with a Rated Riot logo underneath. The plane cruised at the designated altitude, but you still felt pushed into your seat like you had during take-off.

“I don’t—I’m not sure those two roles can be separated any longer,” you admitted.

Oh, whispered an alarmed pang of his heart. And, oh? echoed the multitude of shivers rippling underneath his skin.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

You drew in a breath. You didn’t want to start from the beginning because you had a feeling that he might not let you get to the end, so you decided to start from the explanation—the one that you’d come here to give him, but kept getting sidetracked as he responded to you in ways you weren’t anticipating.

“People on tour,” you began, “are very invested in our, uh—situation.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “They’re invested?”

“Apparently, we’re a popular topic backstage.”

Quickly enough, he thought he figured out your implication: if he hadn’t played along with Sid, the staff on this tour might have been having very different conversations.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, that’s not—well, it’s not just your fault,” you replied. “It takes two, right?”

“Right, but I was the one who made the bet.”

“You—okay. But this isn’t about the bet—” you paused. Reconsidered. “Well, alright, the bet sort of kick-started a lot of things, but it’s not—that’s not the problem from my point of view right now.”

Oh, once more. And then, ah.

You were talking, he realised, about the things you didn’t want to talk about in your hotel room in Manchester. The things you’ve affectionately labelled as “a confusing, stressful situation.” The things you were supposed to discuss later, when the time was right. Except he had succumbed to the terminal case of nothing-matters-anymore-if-you’re-leaving-the-band and got drunk instead.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s… fine with me.”

“Alright,” you said. “So, here’s our problem: I’m your manager.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and pulled his chin back.

“If that’s our only problem,” he said, “we are very lucky people.”

A brief smile flickered on your face.

“It’s our biggest problem,” you clarified. “But we definitely are lucky.”

Encouraged by the amusement in your eyes, he grinned. “Because we have each other?”

Your smile grew and even the plane itself seemed to shake a little when his heart rate accelerated at the sight of it.

“Because we can solve this problem,” you said.

His face fell. He thought he could guess where you were going with this.

“How do you mean?” he still asked, his voice a low murmur.

You thought you could have used some of the whiskey that Jungkook had sought out last night.

With a measured breath, you said, “I leave the band, and—”

“Wait,” he cut you off. “Is that supposed to be—”

“Hear me out first—”

“No, listen—if the problem is that you’re my manager,” he said, “then you leaving Rated Riot is not the solution.”

Jungkook sounded a little like Seokjin had earlier—a stark contrast from the way he’d spoken to you last night by the bus.

“Are you suggesting that because people are talking about us backstage?” he pressed.

You turned away. “It’s not just that. I mean, they’re already talking and that’s—well, it’s not great. But we can’t stop the wheel from turning now, or however that saying goes. What we can do, however, is stop it before it gets worse. And by that I mean, you know—we need to decide what the hell we’re doing.”

That was what he wanted, he thought. But now he was confused.

You seemed to want to make a decision about your relationship together. Yet you also seemed to believe that leaving Rated Riot was the best option. He failed to see how both of these things were possible at the same time.

“So, you’ve made up your mind, then?” he asked. “About leaving?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” you said. “I don’t want to leave the band, but—”

“Well, that’s the thing, then,” he said sharply, unfastening his seatbelt. Turning to face you, he stumbled over his own confusion, “I’m—I don’t want to hold you back. I told you. But I thought you—I thought it would be—I thought you wanted to leave. I thought—but you want to stay. So, stay.”

Stay.

It was very simple, really, very concise. But it carried a lot more weight than his words last night when he had caught you off guard. When he had let you go.

You wanted to stay. You just didn’t think you should.

Your response wasn’t particularly verbal. “Hmm.”

“Is it me?” Jungkook asked. “Am I the only reason you’re thinking of leaving?”

He didn’t sound accusatory, even though you were prepared for it. He sounded apologetic instead—almost guilty—and you were completely unprepared for that as a million tiny needles pricked at your heart.

“You’re not the only reason,” you replied. “You’re part of it. And I don’t—look, I-I don’t want to leave. But that sounds reasonable when you look at where we are right now.”

He heard nothing of what you’d said.

“That’s not reasonable in the slightest,” he insisted.

“Jungkook—”

“You have to stay. If you—”

“But if that’s the choice that would make more sense for us,” you interjected, exasperated, “then I don’t mind leaving. If—if we weren’t working together anymore, then maybe we could try to finally figure our shit out.”

Now he heard it.

He had a vague awareness that the other passengers behind you had turned off their screens and removed their headphones, choosing to listen to your conversation instead. But he was too stunned by the look in your eyes to care.

So, that was what you were trying to say: you were prepared to leave Rated Riot to fix your relationship.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it took another minute for coherent words to come to him.

“We can—we can figure our shit out while working together,” he said. “Why do you have to leave?”

“It’s—you have to understand,” you said, “that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m pretty sure neither do you, but that’s how you usually function.” Jungkook sobered up enough to offer a noncommittal shrug. You continued, “but for me—this is freaking me out. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going to happen and what we should do, and—leaving the band sounds—it seems reasonable. It seems safe. Smart. And that’s what I’m clinging to.”

He swallowed, not trusting himself to move. “But that’s—”

“Please, it’s—this is what I wanted to say to you—what I should have said to you last night.” There was a pleading tone in your voice. He nodded, quiet while you continued. “If I stay with Rated Riot, and we try to solve our problems… there are only two ways that can go, right? We both know as much. Either we get back together, or we don’t.”

Jungkook was mesmerised by how glaringly simple this was, in principle: either you used a label on your relationship, or you didn’t.

He knew he was going to love you either way, but he couldn’t breathe, suddenly, at the thought of this other choice in this dilemma—the choice where you didn’t get back together, and he spent the rest of his life deliberately going crazy, so he could return—at least in his mind—to that day seven years ago when he first met you.

“Well, uh, yeah,” he managed to say. “That’s pretty much the choices that we’ve got.”

You reclined in your seat, lifting your gaze to the light control buttons overhead.

“If we get back together…” you began, exhaling. “Then, we might have to face a lot of problems from the label. But we might be alright in the end. I don’t know.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw. He attempted to formulate a response that would be logical and appropriate in this situation. But really, his head felt too small for his thoughts and his tongue too big for his mouth.

“That’s… that’s good to know,” he eventually said.

“Mhmm,” you replied distractedly. “But see, what if we don’t get back together? Or we do, but it doesn’t work out?”

That was what worried him, too—but for different reasons.

He knew that you were looking at this from a pragmatic perspective. A logical, what-would-make-more-sense perspective.

He didn’t think he’d ever looked at it this way. For him, this was simple: he loved you and wanted to be with you. He didn’t care how inconvenient and illogical it might seem to those around him, and he refused to think about what would happen if this love didn’t work out. It would have to. How could it not?

But he recognised his privileges; he knew he didn’t have as many responsibilities as you did. And, alright, fine, he thought about it—realistically, if you broke up again, he’d probably drink until he turned into a puddle of whiskey, while you’d flee across the globe to get away from it all.

And yet—was that all there was to this? Just rationality and calculated decisions?

Jungkook cleared his throat and asked the question that he believed really mattered here.

“Do you love me?”

Someone on the plane gulped audibly and held their breath. He wondered if it was him.

The colour of your eyes deepened, then blurred. “I-I—that’s—that’s not—”

“Answer me,” he whispered.

You tried, but no words came out. This moment resembled the nightmares that haunted you lately: you opened your mouth to scream, but silence stifled every sound you tried to make.

“T-that’s—” you began and stopped yourself before you could stutter any further. You took a breath. “That’s not important right now—”

“How can it not be—”

“Because I do love you,” you said quickly—the words slurred into one desperate Idoloveyou, a hopeless Idoloveyou, a how-can-you-possibly-expect-me-not-to Idoloveyou. “But I don’t think I should. I don’t think you should, either. We’re a—we’re a fucking mess.”

Visibly frozen, Jungkook found himself thinking that if this was the sixteenth century, and the two of you just happened to have this conversation in some public square, the townsfolk would have surely accused you of witchcraft.

It was uncanny, the way you cast a spell on him with just four words—all four of which he heard with perfect clarity: I do love you. Granted, he wasn’t sure if he heard the rest. He felt like he was already burning in your place.

“Right,” he thought he said. He couldn’t feel his face. “But we’ve always—”

“I’m—I have to—I do owe you,” you said. He watched you, his expression oscillating between mild confusion and outright bewilderment. “You said I don’t, but I do. I could have told you what was going on in my head like you told me. Honestly, all this time, whenever I talked to people, they all told me to speak to you. To talk it out. And I closed up in my head instead. If I don’t talk about it, I don’t have to deal with it. You know?”

He blinked, finally. “That’s—”

“I’ll explain it, though, okay?” you said. “Please?”

You gave him too much power—as if he could ever say no to you. As if he could stop listening. As if every fibre of his being didn’t ache to stay close to you.

Warm—so unbearably warm that it felt like he was in the middle of exploring the landscapes Dante depicted in Inferno—Jungkook wiped off the sweat from his palms on his dark jeans.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

“It won’t take long,” you assured. “Really, I don’t even have much to say. I’m fucking scared. That’s all there is to it.”

Jungkook seemed to be practising the lost art of swallowing his tongue. He wanted you to continue and you were biting your lip in a way that suggested that this was not all there was to it. You only wished it was.

You took a trembling breath, and your lungs followed—quivering, it seemed, as they tried to provide you with the oxygen necessary for all that you were about to say.

“I spent the first fifteen years of my life watching my parents break up and get back together again,” you began. “And do you know what I felt every single time they broke up? Actual rage.” You laughed wryly here like this reaction was absurd. “But when they got back together, I was fucking—I was hopeful. I refused to speak to them, of course—I was a teenager—but I was… Inside, just like my mum, I also hoped that this would work. That this time would be the one.”

You swallowed and lapsed into a silence so long and heavy that Jungkook worried you might never speak again.

Fifteen years, he thought. And all this time, he’d assumed that your dad left for the final time when you were twelve. That was already bad enough, of course, but Jungkook hadn’t realised that the back-and-forth between your parents that you’d mentioned back in Tilburg had taken place after that. He hadn’t realised that you and your brother had gone through three years of almost having a father—and your mum through almost having a partner.

“I knew they were a tragedy together,” you continued. Jungkook didn’t know how to raise his eyes to look at you. “It was obvious that it wouldn’t last. I always knew it, and I always said that to my mum. But deep down, I still fucking hoped that they’d get together and it would work.”

You shook your head with a cold, unforgiving smile.

“How fucking stupid,” you concluded. “All hope does is bring misery and disappointment.”

“You were a child,” he said, his brows drawn together—sad and a little scared for your younger self. “You just wanted your parents to be together. You wanted a family.”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh. Then again, “yeah.”

A minute passed without either of you speaking. Flight attendants crossed the aisles, offering complimentary snacks, but missing you—either by mistake or because there was no one in your seats on the plane. The two of you were somewhere else.

“I think,” you said once the commotion around you quieted, “that I wasn’t just angry at my mum for trying again and again, even though it never worked. Or for never losing hope that maybe they could be happy together. I think I was also angry at myself. Because I never truly lost hope, either.”

Jungkook hung his head, his lips tight in silent contemplation.

“So that’s what I’m afraid of,” you said. “I’m scared that this—us—will turn out to be like that. I’m scared that we’ll let wishful thinking take over, and we’ll get back together even though we shouldn’t. Even though it’s obvious that we won’t last.”

Right away, he wanted to insist that you would defy those odds. That there was nothing obvious about the two of you whatsoever. He wanted to promise all that and more, but it wasn’t right—not after you endured fifteen years of broken promises between two of the most important people in your life.

“You, um—” he started to say and coughed suddenly, caught off guard by his dry throat, “—you told me before that you admired your mum’s courage. F-for trying again.”

You handed him the overpriced airport water bottle that you had bought earlier. Jungkook nodded in gratitude.

“I did,” you confirmed. “And I do admire that about her. But I don’t have any of her courage.” You brought a shaky finger over your forehead, not quite scratching it. “I always say that I don’t believe in second chances, but the truth is, I think I do believe in them. I’m just debilitated by my fear that these second chances might not work out.”

Jungkook lowered the bottle. He’d emptied almost half of it in a single gulp, but an anxious undercurrent inside of him had absorbed it before he could feel any relief.

“Is that, um,” he tried to ask, “is that something you feel in general or—or because it’s us?”

You thought about that for half a second and shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where a second chance held so much significance,” you said. “This isn’t a mistake that you can fix. It’s not a human error. It’s you and me. And it’s so—it’s final. There won’t be another chance for us, it’s now or never. And what if it’s never?”

You lowered your gaze, your fingers restless as they toyed with the sleeves of your black shirt. Every now and then, you’d lift your hand to your bare neck—you still hadn’t found any of your necklaces—as if seeking a distraction from the weight of the moment.

“Y-you are—you’re my—” you tried and couldn’t. Finally, you looked at him, and the words you couldn’t voice were right there, shimmering uncertainly in his dark eyes. “You’re my first thought in the morning and the last one at night. I don’t think my heart could take it if I started to have hope for us again, but we didn’t work out in the end.”

Jungkook felt his heart trip over several beats—

Stumble down his ribs—

Crash into his stomach—

Roll around the hollow cavities somewhere at the very bottom—

Rise suddenly, all the way back to his chest—

Expand—

And explode, it seemed. In a flash of light so vivid and intense that for a minute or two, his blood stopped running and he survived on nothing but the words you’d just said.

“And so that’s what I meant,” you finished, and he struggled to hear your next words over the loud pounding in his chest. “If I stay here and we don’t get back together—or we do, but not for long—then what? We see each other every day, we try to act like nothing’s wrong, we learn how to go back to being professional, and then four years later, you make another bet?”

Jungkook found the end of your sentence so utterly unexpected that he wasn’t sure if he had even heard you correctly. His response was half of a gasp and a fractured “I—” before you cut him off.

“I’m joking,” you said with a gentle smile—one that managed to feel both, very fitting and completely out of place in this situation. “That’s—well, that is why I think it’d be more reasonable for me to leave. That way, I think, we could figure it out without some dramatic, tragic consequences in case it, uh—in case something goes wrong.”

“R-right,” he said. A warm haze settled on his face in a delicate shade of pink. It appeared almost soft to the touch. “I… I understand. I-I don’t—I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that would take that away. All of your fear.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. There might not be anything to say at all.”

Jungkook hurriedly ran his tongue over his lips. He wasn’t thinking about you leaving right now. He was thinking about you staying and fighting through it.

He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t think he could mend these particular wounds in your heart. They ran deeper than his love could reach.

It wasn’t him that you should have talked to about this. It wasn’t him that could help you reach an agreement—or, at least, an understanding—with your own self.

“You should talk to your mum,” he said.

You looked up from the floor of the plane, surprised. “What?”

“Talk to her,” he repeated. “Just to hear what she thinks about everything. To hear her reasoning. To understand why she made the choices that she did. I think that would be good for you both.”

Your surprise deepened and gained an edge. You looked alarmed, as if the notion that a caregiver could ease your hurt rather than deepen it was new and foreign.

“I’ve—we’ve never—my mum and I have only talked about her relationship with my dad maybe once in our whole lives,” you said. “I have never even talked to her about my own relationship. You know I haven’t.”

He nodded solemnly. “I have, though.”

“What?” you asked. There was a ringing in your ears. “You have—you’ve talked to—to my mum? About—”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you everything.”

For a good minute, you watched him with an expression that held more questions than possible ways of asking them.

“I—I’m very confused right now,” you managed.

He nodded again, understanding, but still not offering any explanations.

He’d told you most of everything, really—he’d called those bits of the story “Haunting” and “Cursed.” But the rest of it had to be something you pieced together on your own.

For a long time, he had imagined this to be something that would hit you years later, perhaps when you would accidentally hear an old Rated Riot song. You’d think no, it can’t be, and you’d rush home. You’d pull out the albums, the track lists, and the lyrics.

And you’d know.

These conversations with your mum were his far side of the moon—invisible, but still present, still heavy.

These conversations were his thoughts and hopes and countless fears.

They were everything he brought to Rated Riot and everything he expressed in the recording booth, in Namjoon’s studio, and on stage.

They were his past and his present, and someone else’s future.

They were him without you, but still searching for you every morning when he woke up.

They were you, you, you.

Everything he’d ever talked to your mum about had been his songs. And all his songs had always been a tale about you—in every banal, every impossible narrative he could find within himself.

They were about seeing you and growing wings.

About kissing you and coming home.

About losing you and bleeding out.

About forever and five minutes that don’t mean anything once they’re over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not capable of much else. “I needed her help with something. I didn’t really tell her anything, uh, directly, so to speak. But she—she knows. She’ll tell you everything. It’s just, um—you have to talk to her, too. You have to tell her what you told me.”

Airplanes, you realised suddenly, made it very easy to force yourself to stop running away. There was nowhere to escape—you could see the clouds reflected in his eyes and you were already falling in them anyway.

“I’ll talk to her,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a small nod and scratched his knee absentmindedly.

“I want you to stay,” he stated. “With the band. It’s—it’s selfish, but it’s the truth. I’ve always tried to encourage you to stop thinking so much a-and just do what you wanted, and this—this is what you want, despite your fear. You want to stay.”

You looked at him with a forlorn expression and he felt his hands twitch at his sides.

“But what will we do?” you asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “I mean, we’ve gotten this far, right? So, give us a chance. We’re not completely hopeless. We can... talk our way through it all, step by step.”

You’ve talked your way through a lot and you have gotten this far, that was true. Even if the journey hadn’t been pleasant.

Seokjin had told you earlier today that as long as you stayed with the band, no one would care about what happened next. And, really, no matter how you looked at it, this was what it all boiled down to: it was just you.

Only you—afraid of what others will say, afraid of getting hurt and hurting him again, afraid of doing too much, and afraid of not doing enough.

“I’m—” you tried, “w-we don’t know what will happen. That’s why I’m—”

“I know,” he said. “And you’re right. We don’t know what will happen. That’s fucking terrifying. I’m scared, too.”

He did look a little scared, but he licked his lips and successfully collected himself.

The two of you were so close to meeting in the middle and taking that first step together—just a little more strain between your shaking, outstretched hands.

“And I-I know that the bet is another thing that—that might make it harder for you to believe that we can—that we can work it out,” he added, spinning his ring around his finger twice more. “But I want you to know that it—the bet was a fucked up thing to do. But it gave me a reason to talk to you about everything that I already wanted to talk to you about. I’m—even without the bet, I would have approached you, eventually. It just—I was fucking scared, so it might have taken me longer.”

It wasn’t just you.

Fear was in the epicentre of everything you were saying to each other. It was like the wind in every city you visited on this tour—inescapable, uncontrollable, persistent.

He was afraid, too—of trying and failing. Afraid of getting his heart broken and breaking yours. Afraid of never finding the forever that he desperately wanted with you.

“My point is,” Jungkook finished, “I think this is inevitable, because—well, let’s be honest,” he chuckled softly, trying to lessen the gravity of his confession, “all I’d ever wanted in my entire fucked-up life was you.”

Your breath trembled.

Something very deep inside of you wanted you to believe that inevitability was meant for the two of you, too.

“It’s been four years, though,” you said with a faint shake of your head. “What if it takes us another four to find a way to make this work?”

“It—well, I don’t really care how long it takes, to be honest,” he said. “I’m going to die yours.”

He said that and your heart stopped beating for a moment to listen.

To wait.

To make one thing very clear for you: you would never survive losing him again.

And you were scared—completely petrified—to find yourself in a situation where losing him was possible. Where it was likely.

Jungkook saw it on your face. He saw everything—the anguish, the pain, the doubt, the fear.

But he felt a little exhilarated to find the fight in your eyes, too. This fight was the reason you were talking to him about things that you’ve never talked about. It was the reason you were here.

“We’ll decide everything else when the idea of—of trying again doesn’t scare you so much anymore,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “When you hear your mum’s point of view, and you can make a, uh—an informed decision.”

He noted that there was something softer in your eyes when you looked at him again, but he could still discern the lingering edges of doubt.

“You think that’ll help me make an informed decision?” you asked, touched by his choice of words.

“I hope it will,” he replied. “But we can work it all out, either way. I just think you need to talk to her. It’s been so long.”

“Right. It has been.” You clasped your hands around your neck and tucked your chin between your palms. “It—it probably won’t be an easy conversation, though.”

“Nor will it be short, I imagine.”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

He sensed the growing distance between you as your eyes ran over the back of the seat in front of you. He knew you well enough to understand what you were doing: you were mapping out the rest of your story in your head.

He didn’t like that. Your stories rarely had happy endings.

“You don’t—don’t start planning it ahead, though,” he said hastily—before you reached the unhappily ever after in your mind. “It’ll be late when we land in London. You need to sleep. Talk to her after that. When you—when you’re not working. We can wait. We have time.”

Finally, you allowed your gazes to meet again—and to linger a little longer this time.

You took a moment to note that, despite knowing Jungkook for so long, every time you looked at him, you still needed a minute to will yourself to keep breathing. You remembered thinking, after your first few dates, if that would ever go away—logically, it should have.

But you watched him now, seven years since you’ve met, and the beating of your heart still felt backwards.

I’m going to die yours

I’m going to die—

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll call her as soon as possible.”

He nodded twice and closed his eyes for a brief respite—but hesitated, suddenly, before opening them again.

He wondered, for a suspended moment, what it would mean for you—this ‘as soon as possible.’

Then he looked at you and decided to tell you what he wanted it to mean.

“Before that happens, though—before you talk to her, I mean—I-I want to still be able to see you,” he said and did so assertively, using the phrase I want, but really meaning, I must. “I don’t want to not talk to you.”

You felt your frosty expression crumble effortlessly into a soft smile.

“We’ve agreed to a truce, right?” you said easily. Lightly.

His heart soared.

He was smiling, too, but with caution—his lips were pressed together as he bit into his lip ring to contain his smile to a level that he thought appropriate.

His shining eyes gave him away, however, and you wondered—the thought sudden and overwhelming—if there was a point in your life when you weren’t in love with him when he smiled.

“Let’s try a friendship,” he proposed.

“Oh—” Your smile abruptly turned into laughter as you remembered trying this once before. It had lasted for about two days. “You know we can’t be friends. We don’t know how.”

The gentle cadence of your laughter made him weightless.

“What are you talking about?” he teased—so high that he was certain the flight attendants were going to ask him to take it down a notch because it was dangerous to float on the ceiling in the middle of a flight. “We can be whatever the fuck we want to be.”

Your laughter grew bolder, strengthened by the relief that you’ve had this conversation, that you’ve decided on your next steps, however uncertain they were—and his smile spread.

You could see him beaming through your half-closed eyes, and there was absolutely nothing—no matter how big or small, significant or not at all—that you wouldn’t have done for him when he looked like that, and no amount of fear could have stopped you.

He'd burn down half of Europe for you, Seokjin had said.

You were worried you’d burn all of it for him.

“Honestly,” you said, “we’re such a mess that I have nothing else to say. Sure. Let’s try being friends again. Why not?”

“For the time being?” Jungkook asked. There was a tentative glint in his eyes. “Until we figure out if—until we decide what we’re going to do with us?”

It was very considerate of him to say ‘we’ here, when you knew that you were the one who needed to get it together in the end.

“For the time being,” you confirmed.

“And you’ll stay?” he asked once more. “With Rated Riot?”

Last night, he had told you he was letting you go, and you needed to hear it—not just to see how much he’s grown, but to fully understand yourself. To stop jumping from possibility to possibility. To accept that it was okay to do what you wanted sometimes.

The past few days were like flipping a coin and realising, while it was mid-air, which side you were hoping it would land on.

“I’ll stay.”

Jungkook thought that this flight was going to be the most thrilling part of his day. But a miracle happened as soon as the plane touched down in London.

His grandmother called him.

It wasn’t an accident like he had initially assumed when he saw her name on his phone. She called because she missed her favourite grandson and wanted to wish him good luck at his concert (and chastise him a little for not wearing “enough clothing” on stage).

Jungkook wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were because she’d remembered who he was, remembered what he did for a living, because she’d called, or because she’d confirmed his long-held suspicion that he was her favourite grandson.

Perhaps, and most likely, it was all of these things.

He was so excited that he stared at his phone even after the call had ended, ignoring the influx of more unintelligible, frantic messages from the same unknown number. He probably would have spent the rest of the night fixated on the screen if his battery hadn’t run out by the time everyone settled in the hotel.

At that point, there was nothing Jungkook wanted more than to tell you about the fifteen-minute phone call. However, he couldn’t call or text with his phone off—and waiting for ten minutes until he found the charger in his suitcase seemed like half of an eternity.

Unaware of the lateness of the hour, he lingered outside the hotel, thinking of a plan.

In the end, he decided he didn’t want to draw more attention to your friendship—he hiccupped on the word even in his thoughts—and approached the decorative garden at the front entrance. Ficus plants (artificial, as it turned out) rested in a bed of pebbles (real, for some reason) and Jungkook grabbed a handful of those before heading back to the south wing of the hotel.

He counted down the windows until he identified yours, then took half a dozen steps back from the wall and tossed a pebble at your window. It hit the glass with a gentle thud and dropped onto the grass four floors below.

Jungkook waited for a minute—or what felt like a minute—and tossed another one, making this one bounce against your windowsill before it slipped into your room through the crack of the open window.

He waited again and, finally, your curtains fluttered. A moment later, he saw your puzzled face as you opened the window and covered your squinting eyes with your hand, peering down into the darkness.

“Jungkook?” you called out. “What—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to get your attention!” he shouted with an elated lilt in his voice.

You picked up the pebble from the windowsill and lifted it. He couldn’t see it very well from the ground, but he could see your confused expression.

“By throwing rocks at my window?”

“Yeah!”

“How—are you—for what—”

You stopped. There wasn’t a singular question you wanted to ask, because nothing about what he was doing made any sense whatsoever.

You leaned over the windowsill to get a better look at him, but it didn’t help much. The light from your hotel room made it difficult to discern his expression in the pitch-black night. And the garden lights adorning the exterior of the hotel only highlighted his white sneakers.

“I’m sure there were a lot of steps you could have taken before you had to resort to this,” you shouted into the night. “Most people text. Or knock on the door.”

“My phone’s dead,” he explained, lifting a black block that you assumed was the dead phone. “And I didn’t want anyone to see me going into your room. Can you come down here?”

“Wh—hold on a second.” You retreated into the room to put on a robe over the t-shirt you had worn to bed. The night wind felt a little less frigid when you leaned out of the window again. “Can you just come up here? It’s nearly six in the morning, no one will see—”

“Come on, we finally have a few days off!” he shouted, implying, clearly, that you’d have time to catch up on sleep later. After days of him forcing you to rest, this was very unusual—but, really, quite welcome.

You realised that something important must have happened for him to do this. However, his buoyant voice—and this whole situation in general—also made you wonder if he was drunk.

“I meant that it’s cold outside,” you said. “Wouldn’t it be warmer to—”

“I can—it’s not that bad,” he ended up saying after quickly surmising that his offer to warm you might lead to you throwing that same pebble right at his forehead. “Please?”

You were well aware that this could go on for a while, and it probably wouldn’t be long before your Romeo-and-Juliet-esque conversation attracted the attention of the hotel staff, who would politely ask you to find a different accommodation. The manager already didn’t seem especially pleased when he found out that a rock band would be staying at his hotel.

“Alright. I’m coming down,” you said. “Put the rocks back where you found them.”

He snickered and watched you close the window, disappearing inside of your room.

By the time he returned the remaining pebbles back to the garden, the sky was already beginning to paint itself red. The clouds obscured the rising sun, but Jungkook turned his head just in time to see you walk through the hotel door, and he felt like it was the middle of the day already.

“What’s going on?” you asked, a little concerned about the size of the grin on his face.

“My grandma called me,” he said. “She’s having a good day. She remembered me.”

“Oh, my God!” you gasped. All of your irritation about leaving your warm hotel room at this hour vanished in an instant. “That’s great news! Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah!” He nodded, nearly laughing in pure, beautiful euphoria. “The whole call, she was okay. Even scolded me for breaking the glass on her favourite picture frame when I came to say goodbye to her on the last night before the tour.”

You laughed, infected with his bright mood. “Jungkook, that’s—that’s fantastic. I’m so—”

Instinctively, he pulled you to him by wrapping his arms around your waist. For just a moment, he tightened his embrace and lifted you up slightly, laughing breathlessly when you gasped in surprise.

“I know,” he murmured into your neck as he lowered you to the ground. “I still can’t believe she really called.”

He held you close to him with one hand around your waist, and another one on the back of your neck—and you were stunned for a split-second. Then finally, muscle memory roused you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting the side of your head against his.

“I’m—I’m so happy to hear that,” you whispered, feeling his breath on your shoulder and the goosebumps that rose on your skin as a result.

“I am, too.” He slowly pulled his head back to look at you, and the sight of the smile on his face was enough to pierce your heart with something that you could never remove. “You’re the first person I wanted to tell this to.”

Wordlessly, you pulled him back into a hug. You could feel the stretch of his cheeks against yours as his smile widened, and you realised you’d never want to run away from this. You’d always want to stay.

You were going to stay.

No. That wasn’t right.

You wouldn’t just stay with Rated Riot, determined to destroy every ounce of your fear for him. You’d have mopped up whole oceans for him. Captured shooting stars and stuffed them into jars. Flooded the entire world with an endless sea.

You’d have done anything to have him here like this: smiling so much that he could barely speak while his chest thud-thud-thudded against yours.

You felt so much of it—this vast love that refused to die no matter how much it was beaten—that you didn’t know what to do with it all.

A minute later, you pulled back slightly—a little dizzy from the intense whirlwinds inside your chest.

“T-thank you,” you stammered. “For telling me. I’m really—I’m so happy for you.”

His hands lingered on your waist, extending the moment to the very end.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking a reluctant step back. “She, um—she asked me to say hi to you. You know, from her.”

You were surprised that she remembered you—and brought you up!—and your smile returned, encouraged by the bashful look in his eyes when he said this.

“Give her my best the next time you talk to her,” you said.

“I will.” He nodded eagerly, then slowed down. “Although, I, uh—well—I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“That’s okay,” you replied quickly, not wanting to lose the lightness of the moment so soon. “The important thing is that she’s having a good day today. And she called you!”

You raised your voice at the end of the sentence, and it was enough to rekindle his excitement.

“She did!” he sang. “She said I was her favourite grandson, by the way. So I was right.”

“Oh—hmm.” You remembered pretending to argue with him about this in Stockholm and couldn’t help yourself. “Well, alright. I guess that makes sense. Remember that stray orange cat that she used to feed every night? Reginald?”

“Reggie,” he said, grinning. The cat was one of the first things his grandmother mentioned when she called tonight; it had stopped coming to see her, but continued to take up a large place in her heart. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Well, I mean, she loved him so much, even though he scratched her every time she got too close,” you explained. “Clearly, she always had a soft spot for troublemakers.”

“Okay, now,”—he clicked his tongue—“my grandma did actually love that cat a lot, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered and he laughed, too, and for a moment, he thought his chest might have exploded if he felt any happier than he did right now.

Then he noticed you clutching your robe closer to your body. Whatever you’d worn underneath wasn’t enough to keep you warm now that the initial excitement slowly began to fade.

“Do you, uh… want to go back inside?” he asked, gesturing at the exposed skin of your wrists. “You’re shivering.”

You looked down at your hands. “I’m okay. But maybe we could sit?”

You turned to look around. There was a bench right at the edge of the garden, next to a bronze-coloured flowerpot that was placed in the pebbles Jungkook had used to “get your attention”.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

You shivered all over again when he sat down next to you, and the bench turned out to be smaller than it had appeared. You could feel every bounce of his restless legs.

“So,” you said, “what did you two talk about?”

He brightened at your question, and suddenly, you didn’t think he was anywhere near close enough.

“Oh, so many things,” he said. “She told me she’d like to see us perform. Can we make that happen when we go back?”

“Absolutely,” you promised.

“Yeah?” His smile widened and his bouncing increased. “She’ll probably hate it. Mosh pits aren’t her thing.”

“We’ll put her in the balcony seats,” you suggested. This conversation felt so ordinary that it was hard to imagine you could be talking to him about anything else. “She’ll love every second of watching you on stage.”

“She said she saw pictures from the tour,” he added, giddy. “My cousins showed her Maggie’s Instagram profile.”

“Did she see your pirate cosplay?”

Jungkook displayed a remarkable resilience to the pirate jokes after that first concert—you and Jimin suspected that the response from the audience played a big part in his newfound immunity—and he chuckled at it now.

“She did,” he said. “She said I reminded her of Kurt Russell in Escape from New York.”

You pulled back a little to get a better look at him, even though he no longer needed to wear the eye patch. Most of the discolouration around his eye had already faded and you’d managed to cover up the scratches with a few smaller, skin-coloured adhesive pads.

“Well, shit,” you said. “Maybe I do kind of see the resemblance. You’ve got the hair.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted.

You widened your eyes. “Jungkook. You don’t know Snake Plissken?”

“No, but my grandma said all her friends had a crush on him after the film came out,” he said. “Except for my grandma, of course. She insists she only ever had eyes for my grandpa.”

You both chuckled at this with a childlike glee—the thought of a love that spanned decades felt exhilarating and very possible as the sky awakened above you.

“My mum liked Kurt Russell, too, after the film,” you said. “And she was nine at the time. She snuck into the theatre with her brother and his friends.”

Jungkook inclined his head thoughtfully. “Maybe that guy’s not so bad, then.”

“He’s a classic,” you corrected. “But your taste in films isn’t.”

“That’s actually exactly what my grandma said,” he remembered. “She told me not to come home until I watched it.”

You could hear his grandmother saying this exact thing to him and felt yourself smile again.

“I think you’d love it if you watched it,” you said. “So, it’s not much of a threat.”

“Really?” He looked at you, but only for a fraction of a moment. “Would you—I mean, it’d be cool if we could—”

You knew what he was asking. And your response—like most of everything else tonight—came as a reflex. “I’m sure we can rent it on Amazon.”

“Okay,” he said, his shoulders slumping against yours in visible relief. “That—I’d like that.”

Unwelcome, the raw breeze of the late hour caught up with you, and you felt your body shudder involuntarily once more. Determined to ignore the chill, you opened your mouth to continue the conversation, but Jungkook suddenly leaned forwards.

“Here,” he said, slipping out of his dark flannel. “Put this on. It’s not much, but—”

“No, no—” you tried, but he drew closer to drape the flannel over your shoulders. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pulling back. To further reduce the significance of the gesture, he added, “it’s what friends do. And I’m warm anyway.”

You clutched the collar of the flannel tighter to prevent it from sliding off. Or just to have something to do with your hands. “Well—thanks, friend.”

A powerful waft of his cologne permeated your senses, and you closed your eyes, preserving the refreshing blend of woody and citrus notes that already took up a significant amount of space in your memory.

Every time you inhaled, his scent mixed with a different moment from your life—and it all flooded your mind in an unstoppable sequence.

Meeting Jungkook—

Kissing him for the first time on that rainy night in the park—

Hugging him hello every morning before class—

Borrowing his clothes when you stayed at his dorm—

Losing your mind when you found yourself alone and his scent returned to you, uninvited.

Jungkook appeared to be sharing your memories in real time as he inhaled sharply and tapped his fingers against his shaky thighs.

“Friends,” he said, swallowing, “probably don’t kiss each other.”

His words ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach without any matches.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, uh—t-they probably don’t.”

“Hmm. Right.”

“As your friend,” you said, sitting up straighter and letting his flannel settle around your shoulders while you lowered your hands to the wooden bench underneath you, “I’m pointing out that you’re on a high because your grandma called. That’s why you’re thinking about—”

“I’m on a high because I’m with you,” he stated. “My friend.”

The fire inside you spread rapidly, wildly, uncontrollably.

The way you were starting to lose feeling in your fingers from gripping the bench so tightly, yet you refused to let go of it, should have probably been studied scientifically.

“Well, then,” you said, “let’s look at it this way: have you ever kissed friends before? Sid maybe?”

Jungkook snorted. “God forbid.”

“Minjun, then?”

“No,” he said. “Do you think I should?”

You snickered. “No. But if we’re friends, too, then we probably shouldn’t do that, either.”

He looked at you, his lips puckered in thought. Unconsciously, you had started to scrape at the dark paint of the bench.

You hadn’t meant a word of what you’d said. He suspected as much.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But we’re such a mess, though, right?”

The echo of your own words on the plane brought a smile to your face again—a reaction more rooted in easing the sudden surge of anticipation rather than genuine amusement.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We’re such a mess.”

Jungkook felt a little afraid, which was something that he always felt when the world around him blurred, and he found himself incapable of looking away from your lips.

It was dangerous, this tunnel vision. This singular focus. This impossible, magnetic pull that defied all reason, that made the whole universe tremble with a silent—

He leaned closer.

For a fleeting moment, the space between you was filled with nothing but your echoing heartbeats and silent memories.

For a fleeting moment, time itself held its breath.

You remembered Oslo and the way Jungkook had pulled away. You remembered how worried you were, how horrified—he was drunk, and he’d pulled away. He’d done the rational thing.

Funny thing, rationality.

You thought you were perfectly rational when you closed the remaining distance and your lips brushed against his—hesitant, uncertain, tender. A permission, a question, and his unequivocal death, all in one.

Jungkook inhaled—as if checking if he was alive or just pretending to be—and reached up to touch your cheek. He pulled you closer and stole the remnants of your breath with his kiss.

It was fair, he thought. You had stolen his entire soul.

The touch of your lips lasted for less than a minute—not nearly enough time for the trees around you to exhale in clandestine relief—but the softness of his mouth, the slow, intoxicating smacking of your lips against his, and the faint notes of mint on his tongue did irreparable damage to your pulse.

He stole that too, he supposed, because when he pulled away, his heart seemed to beat with enough strength to support the lives of half the population.

“Do friends discuss what it means if they kiss?” he asked, winded. His chest touched yours every time it rose in an attempt to recover.

Your laughter was breathless, too. “I’m thinking no.”

“I like what you’re thinking.”

Something very tranquil and very happy was inscribed into the contours of your features.

Soft red feathers spread across the sky above you as the city slowly stirred awake.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was supposed to.

“I have a free day tomorrow,” you said. “Well, today.”

Jungkook was a bit puzzled by the shift in conversation but went along with it nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. The girls and I made plans, but I’m, uh—I’m going to call my mum before I go. I set an alarm for it and everything,” you said with a self-conscious chuckle. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“Oh.” He was shaking a little, he realised. He hoped you wouldn’t notice it and decide to give him his flannel back. ��Well, that—that’s good. You should do that.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze to the grass and the pebbles below. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he decided. “For good luck.”

Your surprised smile overshadowed everything else he wanted to tell you.

“Oh,” you said. “Is that what friends do?”

“Yes,” he replied. “You didn’t know? It can’t be just one kiss, that’s bad luck.”

“Actually, I heard even numbers are bad luck.”

He gasped theatrically. “Oh, but that’s terrible! I’ll have to kiss you three times, then. To be safe.”

You smiled and shook your head. He died a little then, because everything was here, just like in his worst nightmares and his favourite daydreams: your scent, your eyes, your smile. All of you.

“You’re always such an idiot,” you said with so much affection that the wind crept away miserably, defeated by the warmth in Jungkook’s gaze when he looked at you. When he felt your hand on the side of his face—gentle and careful so as not to touch the healing bruises on his cheek.

“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure if he’d ever remember how to breathe again. “You said you love me, though.”

“I do,” you said, beaming, as you ran the tips of your fingers over the edges of his wolf cut. “It’s a burden I have to live with.”

He shivered from your touch and leaned in—impatient, all of a sudden. His lips met yours with a soft, rehearsed touch, and he thought he died all over again when you pulled him closer.

Your heart brought back the memories of sensations that you’ve tried to bury; it revived them and set them loose in your chest when you kissed him back and felt the smile on his lips.

Your heart threatened to quit it, to burst into flames and take you down with it when you felt his tongue slowly glide over your lower lip.

Your heart settled right against his when you parted your lips. When you felt his warm breath mingle with yours. When you held onto him with everything you were feeling, and he held onto you.

He kissed you in every way that a friend wasn’t supposed to, and groaned softly when he touched the back of your neck and felt the relentless roughness of goosebumps under his fingertips. Your body reflected everything he was feeling.

Every time your lips met—gentle and feverish—every time he pulled you closer—frantic and heated—every time you inhaled when he exhaled—sharp and eager—you were setting fire to something that once was and building something new in its place.

There seemed to be small fragments of a foreign nature inside of you both—fragments that had danced with each other long before your first kiss and would continue the lively, eternal swaying for years and years after your last.

Maybe it was dust from two neighbouring stars, drawn together by a force stronger than them, but forced to crash somewhere on earth and settle and quiver and wake up inside of you both.

Or maybe it was something less grand. Maybe it was just luck. Just coincidence.

“See,” you whispered, pulling back. “I told you we don’t know how to be friends.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, kissing the corner of your lips. The sparks inside him were fierce and relentless when you smiled in response. “I think friends can decide what sort of friends they want to be.”

“What sort of friends are we going to be, then?”

“This sort.”

You could see the northern lights and the tails of comets in his eyes before he leaned in to kiss you again. You could taste the longing for the Milky Way and the whispers of timeless meteors on his tongue.

And it all solidified this for you: the two of you were not luck and not coincidence.

You were something much more.

chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “follow you”

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