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roosterforme · 9 months

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Batting Practice Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of the proposal, Bradley wants to make sure all three of you are on the same page. And as happy as you are, you're still having a hard time deciding how to best merge your past with your future.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley held you in the grass for a long time while you clutched that baseball in your hand. He couldn't remember another time he felt so calm as Everett ran around in the grass tossing a ball up in the air and catching it.

"Will you move in now?" you asked, setting your heart covered baseball in the grass and running your fingers along Bradley's mustache and stubble. "Ev and I both really want you to."

"Yeah, Kitten. I'll move in," he promised. "Right after the three of us have a conversation about expectations, okay? It's really important to me that we're all on the same page."

"Oh my god," you groaned, crawling up his body to get better access to his lips. "How are you this perfect?"

"I just needed to get my priorities straight," he said between kisses. "I never meant to hurt you like I did before, you know that, right? I just never in a million years thought that I'd meet anyone like you and Ev and fall in love so hard."

You just whimpered and snuggled up on him again. But once Everett started bugging to play baseball again, you pulled Bradley to his feet. This time Bradley put on the catcher's gear and let Everett pitch to you, which was honestly pretty funny.

"Am I good enough to play on the rec league, too?" you asked as you missed another pitch.

"No," Bradley and Everett replied in unison as you laughed.

"But that's okay, Mommy! Bradley loves you anyway even though you aren't that good at baseball."

"That's true," Bradley replied, removing the mask when they were done playing. "Being good at baseball was not a prerequisite. She just needed to understand and appreciate our love of the Phillies," he added, giving Everett a high five.

"Can we come to your game?" Everett asked, eyes wide as Bradley scooped him up along with his gear bag. You carried the bucket of balls back to the Bronco with your special ball right on the top of the pile.

"Kiddo, you can come to as many games as you want. And later today or tomorrow, we can talk about me moving into your house, okay?"

"Okay!"

"But I'm not going to stay in the extra bedroom," he said seriously. "So we can talk about that too." He wanted Everett to understand that he wasn't going anywhere, and that he was going to marry you as soon as he could. As soon as you wanted to.

Once he got Everett buckled in, he helped you load everything into the back. You had some grass stains on your shirt, and your clothes were all rumpled, and Bradley was so in love with all of it.

"Come here," he whispered with a smile as you slipped into his arms right where you belonged. "Can we get married tomorrow?" You laughed and he buried his face against your neck. "Please, Kitten? I'm dying for it now!"

"Bradley, we've been engaged for an hour."

"That's a pretty long time," he replied, enjoying the feel of your hips in his hands.

"We can talk about this later." You giggled and kissed him until Everett started whining that he was starving for lunch.

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

The Independence Day party at Maverick's hangar was in full swing by the time the three of you arrived in the Bronco. There was almost nowhere to park, but Bradley found a spot next to Bob's truck.

"Bob came?" you asked, eyeing his truck. "I think Molly's working today. Something about double overtime."

"I don't know why she didn't just take the day off," Bradley mused, killing the engine. "Does she really need the extra pay? It's not like Bob isn't her glorified sugar daddy now."

"What's a sugar daddy?" Everett asked from the backseat.

You glared at Bradley and muttered, "Yeah, Bradley. Try explaining that one to a seven year old."

He had the decency to look a little concerned before turning back to look at your son. "Uh... I think that Bob bought a lot of candy for your Aunt Molly."

"Ohhh," Everett replied. "Yeah, that makes sense, because she likes snacks. Do you think he'd buy some for me, too?"

Bradley cleared his throat and nodded slowly. "I think so. Just as long as you don't call him a sugar daddy," he muttered.

"Ev, why don't you go say hi to Bob and Natasha," you said, pointing out the window. "I see them right there. But don't tell anyone about the baseball ring yet, okay?"

"Okay!" Ev called, and then you and Bradley were alone in the front seat, and you started laughing.

"Really? A sugar daddy?" you asked.

"I'm sorry, Kitten! I'm still new to all this dad stuff."

Your lips parted in a soft smile as you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled toward your fiance. "But you're already really good at it," you told him when he welcomed you onto his lap. "It's like you were tailor-made for us."

You kissed along Bradley's neck and he pulled you snug against him. "The two of you are perfect for me," he grunted, watching the sunlight catch your diamond ring. "Let's get married soon?"

"Okay," you agreed, your lips teasing his ear.

"Did Danny ever give you a ring?" he asked, unable to help himself.

"No. And I should have never married him. He obviously didn't want to but felt obligated to."

"I hate that guy," Bradley growled. "I'll be so much better."

"You already are," you promised him. "But would you mind if we don't tell anyone we're engaged yet?" you asked, and Bradley pulled away from you. He watched you remove your ring and reach for the glovebox.

"Why not?" he asked, clearly upset as you put the ring inside and closed it.

You quickly placed a dozen little kisses at the corner of his mouth. "I want to tell Molly first. That's all."

"Oh," he replied, nodding as he rubbed his hands along your legs. "Sure, Kitten. We can tell Molly first."

You liked how he said we, like you were all part of a team now.

"I love you, Coach," you whispered, kissing him before you hopped down out of the driver's door and into the hot sunlight. Bradley jumped down behind you with his hand at your back, and he led you toward Everett.

"Mommy! Can we get changed and go play in the splash pad? Please?" he begged just as Nat strolled up and gave Bradley a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll take him over," she said. "I've already got my bathing suit on, and Mav set up some changing stalls."

"Thanks, Nat," you replied, handing Everett his swim bag.

"Kitten," Bradley groaned, wrapping his arms around you. "It's killing me not to tell her we're engaged."

You giggled and tucked your hand up inside his shirt. "You can tell her tomorrow, okay? Just let me tell Molly first."

Bradley just melted into your touch. He had his hands all over you the rest of the day as you ate burgers and chatted with everyone. He even ducked inside the tiny changing tent with you, kissing you all over as you tried to put on your leopard print bathing suit.

"I haven't seen this since the tee ball swim party," he groaned, slipping his index and middle fingers underneath the strap at your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I love it when you dress up like a kitten for me."

You bit your lip. "I did wear this to the pool party just so you'd notice it."

"Mmm," he hummed, letting his fingers stroke your nipple through the fabric. "Oh... I noticed it, Baby."

You let his hands slip lower to your hips. "And now, after you move in, I can dress up for you all the time."

"Fuck," he groaned, his lips finding the pulse point in your neck and sucking gently. "Please, let's get married next week."

You laughed softly and shook your head. "We'll talk about it later, Coach. You need to get changed so we can go splash with Ev." Then you brushed his erection softly with your hand before ducking outside.

When you walked away, you heard him cursing softly, and the smile on your face felt like it was stuck there permanently. You were getting married. A second time. To Bradley. A man who loved your son every bit as much as he loved you. And he wasn't afraid to show it or talk about it. He wasn't afraid to let you know what you meant to him. You had never experienced anything like this before.

"Mommy!" Ev called out, soaking wet and holding up two water balloons.

"Don't you dare!" you told him, but he just held one out to you.

"Let's get Bradley," he whispered, looking past you. When you turned, you saw him heading your way in his swim trunks, pushing his aviators up on his nose.

You nodded at Everett. "Absolutely." And then you watched as your balloon managed to hit Bradley in the shoulder right after Everett's hit him square in the chest.

Bradley looked up in shock. "Oh, it's on," he growled, and you tried to hide behind Everett as Bradley stormed closer with a playfully angry look on his face.

"We need more balloons!" Everett screamed, pulling you toward a large bucket filled with them. Then the two of you launched dozens of water balloons at Bradley. Everett's accuracy was a lot better than yours, and Bradley pretended he was getting more and more wounded with each balloon he took to his body.

"You're too good!" he gasped at Everett, dropping to his knees on the splash pad while Everett laughed. Then he ran over and tackled Bradley with a big hug. You could hear Bradley tell him, "Hey, your pitches are looking great, kiddo," while Everett hugged him around the neck. "So proud of you."

"Thanks, Coach," Everett replied, and Bradley kissed him on the top of his head before scooping him up and standing.

"But I don't know if I can trust the two of you now," Bradley said, squeezing your butt as he walked toward the sprinkler. "Some family you turned out to be. Getting me soaked before I was ready." He walked into the spray of water, and you listened to Everett scream with laughter as Bradley got both of them even more soaked.

Then Nat and Bob joined in, and you wished Molly was here. Because you had to be the one to remind Bob to put on more sunblock in her absence. And you didn't want to text her a picture of your ring, you wanted to tell her in person about it. You wanted her to see it and be excited for you.

If she had the day off tomorrow, you'd try to stop by after work and tell her. But for now you'd just enjoy the rest of the first day of your engagement. You ran toward the sprinkler and wrapped your arms around Bradley.

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

"That's a familiar sight," Maverick said as the sun was dipping lower in the sky. Bradley gave him a funny look as he held a very sleepy Everett in his arms. "It's just that you look so much like Goose. And Everett looks like he could be your son." The words hit Bradley right in the heart.

"I want him to be," he managed, voice raspy with emotion.

Mav nodded and grinned before looking at the ground. "You picked a good one." Bradley looked where Mav tilted his head and saw you talking to Bob. "Well, both of them."

He held Everett a little tighter as he slept, head on Bradley's shoulder. "Thanks."

Mav patted him on the back as he took Everett to the Bronco where he started to stir. "Where are we going?" he asked in a sleepy little voice that made Bradley smile.

"Home. You can sleep until we get there. Gonna watch fireworks on the back deck and have a snack."

Everett just nodded and then fell back asleep, his head tipped to the side. Bradley buckled him in and waited patiently for you to finish saying goodbye to Bob.

"You think he'll be my brother-in-law someday?" you asked with a laugh as you climbed in next to Bradley and glanced back to check on Everett.

"You know," Bradley said, scratching his chin as he started the engine, "yeah, I do."

"Good," you replied, opening the glove box as Bradley drove down the long drive to the main road and turned toward the sunset. He breathed a sigh of relief as you slid your ring back onto your finger and examined it in the golden light.

"It's so pretty," you whispered, taking Bradley's hand in yours. "Thanks for letting Ev help pick it out."

Bradley scoffed and squeezed your fingers gently. "You think I could have done it without him? Not a chance. I almost texted Molly for final approval."

Your laughter filled the Bronco, and Bradley smiled as he got on the highway toward your house. "She would have ruined the surprise!"

"I figured," he mumbled, kissing your knuckles. "Better to keep it a secret between the boys."

You were quiet for a little while as Bradley drove. Eventually you turned toward him and whispered, "I do think we should get married pretty soon."

"Yes," he agreed. "We're both off on Saturday...."

"Please!" you laughed. "I didn't have a real wedding before. So I'd like to plan something this time. Nothing crazy, but a real wedding would be so nice." Your voice was soft and dreamy.

"Anything you want, Kitten. Anything. I mean it. I'm already getting the things that are most important to me: you and Ev. So whatever and whenever works for me."

When Bradley pulled into your driveway and thought about how he'd be living here soon enough, you unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap.

"Watch it, Kitten," he whispered as you rubbed yourself against him. "We've got company, Baby."

"I know," you replied softly, kissing his lips. "I just love you so much, and today has been kind of wild, but I want you to know that I can't wait to marry you."

The way your hand slid up to rest over his heart while you kissed him had Bradley ignoring his own caution. He let his lips and mustache trail along your neck as he reached for the button of your shorts.

"Can we go watch fireworks?" Everett asked through a yawn from the backseat. Bradley closed his eyes and sighed, kissing you one more time.

"Yep," he grunted. "It's almost time." Then he carried Everett inside after you unlocked the door. He got both of you settled on the back deck under a blanket, and then he made some popcorn and carried it out just as the first fireworks lit up the sky.

Bradley sat next to Everett who held the bowl of popcorn. "This was a really good day," Everett said, the colors reflecting in his eyes.

"I loved today," you added, turning to look at Bradley as you ate some popcorn.

"Yeah," Bradley said with a deep sigh. "I got to spend it with my family."

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

Everett was looking a little worse for the wear, snuggled up against Bradley as the fireworks ended.

"Can we all talk for a minute?" Bradley asked when it was just the three of you sitting quietly under the moon glow.

"Okay," you agreed as Everett nodded.

"I just wanted to say," Bradley started before pausing for a beat. "Kiddo, I'm going to move in with you and your mom. If that's okay with you."

"Yeah!" Everett cheered, perking up.

Bradley kissed his forehead. "But I'm not going to move into the extra bedroom, okay? Your mom and I are going to get married, hopefully pretty soon. And I'll move my stuff into her big bedroom."

"Okay," Everertt agreed. "Maybe we can turn the other bedroom into a Phillies room or something."

"Hey, that sounds great," Bradley agreed, laughing as you rolled your eyes.

You ran your fingers along your son's cheek so that he was looking at you. "Ev, Bradley is going to be part of our family. For real."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Bradley asked, and Everett's gaze snapped back to him. "I'll be around all the time. You understand?"

Everett nodded enthusiastically. "Does that mean you'll be my dad soon?"

Bradley met your eyes, and your heart started pounding. His gaze was questioning, but you weren't sure exactly what you wanted to say here. "He'll be your stepdad, Ev."

Everett still looked a little concerned as he wrapped his arms around Bradley's neck. "Can I call you dad?" he asked Bradley, and you felt tears in your eyes. All you wanted was for your son to have everything he deserved. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Danny and child support and Everett's face in tears.

But Bradley held him tight and nodded against his neck. "If you want to. And if it's okay with your mom."

When Everett looked at you, a smile crept along your lips. "Yeah, it's okay with me."

Then you listened to the two of them in quiet conversation before Bradley took Everett inside and carried him up to bed. You followed them up the stairs but went into your bedroom and let them have a few minutes to themselves. You contemplated changing into something cute to wear to bed with your fiance, but you ended up sitting on the bed wiping away your tears instead. And then after a while, Bradley walked in, and you could tell he had been crying as well.

He paused next to the bed and you asked, "Are you okay?"

A nod was all you got right away. Then he rasped, "He called me dad. While I got him ready for bed."

"He loves you."

Bradley looked up at the ceiling. "Listen, I had every intention of walking in here and absolutely ravaging my wife-to-be. I swear. But instead, I think I just want to hold you first."

How could anyone possibly disagree with that? You reached out for his hand and pulled him into bed with you and into your arms. "I love you, Coach."

"Fuck, Kitten," he groaned against your neck as you hugged him. "I didn't think I would end up crying so much the day I got engaged. Actually... I never really thought I'd ever get engaged. Especially not to a mom."

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off with his lips on yours. "But you're right, Kitten. I was tailor-made to be with you. And Everett."

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed all of the words from your lips. You were left softly sighing as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, the prickle of his mustache on your skin driving you crazy for him.

"I was going to put on something cute to celebrate with you tonight," you whispered.

"No, no. I love that stuff, you know that. But you're perfect just like this." Bradley kissed you through your grass stained clothing before he started to remove it. "Perfect."

When he took his time like this, it was almost better than when he went wild. Bradley ran his nose along your lace covered breasts, his thumbs grazing your sides, skimming down your ribs. Wordlessly, he moved every bit of your clothing before he pulled his shirt over his head. His skin was hot beneath your hands, and the sound of his heavy breathing filled the space. When his lips met your bare breasts, you whimpered. His big palms were on your hips, holding you in place as you spread your legs wide for him.

His words were too soft, the sound of your whimpering nearly drowning him out as his lips and mustache met the sensitive skin below your belly button.

"Bradley."

His hands left your body, and you heard him work his zipper down. But then his mouth was on your pussy, kissing and licking you as your fingers tangled in his hair. And he would be here every night with you. When he wasn't deployed, he'd be in bed with you, right here, every night.

"Bradley," you whispered again, this time with a little sob. You were going to marry him, and he would always be there with you.

He swiped his tongue slowly up to your clit before kissing you there. "Kitten?"

You pulled him up by his soft hair and wiped away your tears. "I love you." Then his lips were on yours, and you could feel his cock at your entrance. The way your body welcomed every part of him, like you'd been waiting for him, had you wrapping your leg around his waist. He groaned softly against your lips as he sank into you, filling you up. But he didn't move yet. Not for a few minutes. He just stretched you in the most wonderful way while you pulsed around him, and he told you everything he was going to do now that you were engaged.

"I'll move in next weekend, Kitten," he whispered against your neck. "And then I'll start doing your yardwork, because you kind of suck a pulling weeds, Baby."

"Hey," you whined, with a laugh that turned into a moan as he pushed himself deeper inside you.

"I'll pay half the bills. And I'll make breakfast in the mornings. And you can pack my lunch. And I'll play baseball with Ev, because I love him. And then I'll fuck you all night, because I love you."

His words got ragged as he started to thrust. And as soon as he was moving, his rough hairs harsh against your wet clit, you could feel the pressure building inside you. After a few more strokes, you were whining his name, and he was smiling against your lips. Bradley fucked you slow and steady through your orgasm, drawing it out and making your sweat-slick body shiver beneath him. And he went nice and slow until he was grunting and spilling himself inside you.

Your fingers dug into the back of his neck as he kissed you hard. "Please don't make me wait too long to marry you. To be Ev's stepdad for real."

"I won't."

As he panted on top of you, a plan was already forming in your mind. You tried to hold back your grin as you thought about it. Bradley would love it, and so would Ev. If it was even viable. But you'd have Bradley all to yourselves soon enough, and he could help you plan it out.

A little while later, as you were snuggled up with Bradley, nearly asleep, he whispered, "I told Everett I'd take him to the park tomorrow evening. Thanks for sharing your son with me."

You laughed softly, and then you froze up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stroking up and down your spine with his rough hand.

You propped yourself up to look at him, unsure if you should even say anything.

"Kitten. Did I say something wrong?"

"No," you whispered, shaking your head slightly. "It's just that... I never told you this, but I don't want to have anymore kids, Bradley." You bit down hard on your lip as he studied your face.

He looked a little surprised but not disappointed. "Oh. I mean, I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest. I guess I thought the three of us would be perfect, you know? Happy."

You heaved a sigh of relief and wrapped your arms around him again. "Yeah. The three of us. Happy."

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

The following day, after work, you put your ring back on and drove to Molly and Bob's condo. Bradley was picking Everett up from summer camp, and you'd have a chance to talk to your sister alone for a few minutes if Bob wasn't back from base yet.

You knocked on their door loudly before using the key they gave you to let yourself inside.

"Come in!" Molly called out, and you found her in the living room, under a blanket, eating chips and watching reality TV. "Hi!"

You laughed and plopped down next to her. She looked tired as you kissed her cheek. "They working you too hard?" you asked, running your hand across her forehead. "Molly, you look exhausted."

She yawned and snuggled into your touch. "I'm so fucking tired. These double shifts are killing me. I thought it would be an easier adjustment to all daylight shifts than this! But they keep asking me to pull extra hours, because we're short staffed."

"That's not good," you whispered with a frown as she yawned again. But she just brushed you off.

"I'll be fine after Bob dicks me down and I get a good night's sleep again tonight for work tomorrow."

"Oh, I didn't really need to know that, but thanks?"

She nodded at you with a serious look in her eyes. "I love him. He's the sweetest man in the world. And he has a big cock. I'll be just fine. Don't worry about me."

As you cleared your throat to try to change the subject, Molly reached for your hand and screamed, "What is that?!" She started pawing at your engagement ring, kicking her blanket to the floor and jumping up. "You're getting married!"

You laughed at your wild eyed sister standing in front of you in a sports bra, boxer shorts and mismatched socks. "I'm getting married!" you confirmed, and she screamed again. "He asked me yesterday."

"Oh my god! Bradley really went all in on the ring, huh?" she asked, pulling it off your finger to examine it. "I mean...damn! He probably thought you'd say no if the ring sucked. Look at the size of this thing!"

"I wouldn't have said no!" you told her, laughing as she pretended to be blinded by the sparkle. "Ev helped him pick it out."

Molly screamed again. "Ev helped?! Okay, Bradley can stay forever, I guess."

The two of you were on the floor laughing and sharing the bag of chips when Bob walked in wearing his khaki uniform.

"Mo, it's uniform time, Honey," he said with a grin, but then he saw you on the floor with some chips halfway to your mouth, and he blushed. "Oh... you're here too... that's great."

"Hey, Bob," you said before shoving the chips in your mouth and standing. "I was actually just leaving, so feel free to have uniform time."

He still looked embarrassed as you patted his cheek. "Oh, um..."

"I just stopped by to tell you both that Bradley and I are getting married. Hopefully pretty soon." You held up your hand, and Bob pulled you in for a hug.

"Ugh," Molly groaned from the floor. "He's going to be my brother-in-law."

"You just told me how happy you were for me!"

"I am," she confirmed. "I just kind of like to pick on him. It's fun. And easy."

You rolled your eyes and hugged Bob tight. "Stay tuned for a wedding date, okay? I just need to make a few phone calls." Then you turned to leave, but Molly followed you after she kissed Bob.

"You can stay for dinner, if you want."

You smiled and put your high heels back on. "Nah, I don't want to interrupt uniform time."

Molly grinned like the devil, but she said, "I ordered some cute shirts for both of us and Ev to wear to the rec league games. But the Bradshaw on the back of yours is going to have a whole new meaning now! Are you going to ditch Danny's last name?"

"God, yes," you groaned. "As long as it's okay with Bradley."

"And what about Ev?"

You puzzled her question in your mind for a moment. You'd been waiting for the child support from Danny to kick in. But you'd probably be waiting a lot longer. He wasn't going to hand it over to you willingly. But you just knew that Everett was going to want a new last name as well, and honestly it made you want to cry.

"I'm not sure," you whispered, forcing a smile and kissing Molly one last time. "Go have fun with Bob. I'll see you soon."

And when you got home, Bradley and Everett were there, eating a pizza they brought back after playing in the park. Bradley jumped up to get a slice ready for you, and you hugged him around his middle while Everett told you about his day.

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

Ev called him dad! He's moving in! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 27

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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galedekarios · 14 days

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gale, waterdeep & coinage

just musings on gale's means as well as waterdeep lore bc i love waterdeep:

Gale: Believe it or not, but I witnessed a similar standoff back at the Yawning Portal. Of course, an establishment like that invites all sorts of outlandish entertainments. Player: What's the Yawning Portal Gale: An inn in Waterdeep. Never a dull moment there. Adventurers come from all over Faerûn to try their luck down the well: Leads into the Undermountain, you see - full of death, danger, and vast amounts of treasure. Hard to resist. Player: What was the standoff about? Gale: Oh, a drow, a dragonborn, and a cleric of Cyric walk into a bar. Your standard fare. Maybe someone was cheating at cards, maybe it was some weird lovers' quarrel. In any case, out came the crossbow, and a hush fell over the entire room.devnote Player: What happened next? Gale: I stood up and yelled: 'Shadowdark ale for everyone!' The crowd cheered, the tension drained into five dozen tankards, and soon all was well again. Gale: In a place like the Yawning Portal, the most powerful magic is calling for a round of drinks. Gale: Mind you, all I did was call for ale, but you went and stood in front of that crossbow. I'd drink to that.

i will definitely take a look at the yawning portal itself at a later date (as well as other points of interest within the city) bc it's very interesting as a focal point in waterdhavian history and society.

while we can only speculate about what gale's background in terms of means, wealth and standing looked like since things like tutors and even maids were not uncommon in waterdhavian society, it is interesting to note that he - whatever his personal means at the time this event took place - felt the need to defuse the brewing fight with 'five dozen tankards'.

we do actually know how much one such tankard costs at the yawning portal:

[source]

17cp x 60 = 1020cp

this was interesting to me in terms of this meant in actual terms of coinage and wealth and money spent.

here's an overview of waterdeep's various coins:

source: volo's waterdeep enchiridion

gale spent over a 1000 nibs/copper pieces that evening (or more than one sun/platinum coin) to de-escalate a potentially lethal fight.

to put that into perspective, i'm adding this reference of prices here:

source: volo's waterdeep enchiridion

gale also attended blackstaff academy, with elminster as his mentor. the academy had costs attached with it:

Acceptance to the Academy was predicated on either demonstrating extraordinary magical aptitude (those who could not cast arcane spells were very rarely admitted) or having a particularly compelling personal history. Joining the Academy was free, however monthly dues were required to continue attendance. These fees started at 10 gp per month and increased as a student gained seniority and required more advanced tutelage. In addition, it was a requirement that any new spell that was discovered or researched by an apprentice had to be added to Blackstaff Tower's library. [source]

ten gold pieces per month as fees, although with gale being elminster's mentee, he may have chosen to assist gale and morena partially or fully with any costs that blackstaff academy may have charged.

it does sound, however his childhood may have looked like with a presumably absent father and a mother with her hands full with a young genius, able to conjure rabbits as a babe, summoning a tressym, a magma mephit who set a room on fire, as well as casting a level 3 spell (fireball) at age 8 or younger, that gale at least during the height of his career as a wizard, lived comfortably.

ending this with more food for thought and a banter between gale and karlach:

Gale: They say wealth offers a form of magic. Alas, it's one I've rarely dabbled in. Karlach: Nor I. Never had more than a few coppers in the city, and any soul coins in Avernus went straight to Zariel. Gale: Make no mistake. Souls are sold for coins up here as well. All too cheaply, in most cases.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #waterdeep #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #as a side note those coins are so pretty

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httpsryu · 8 months

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muse? pt. 1

pairing: kang haerin x fem newjeans!reader

summary: getting a new member way long after debut and a comeback isn't really the best idea to haerin

genre: enemies (?), angst and fluff

warnings: a bit frustrating and A LOT of jealousy

a/n: once again, thank you for the love on kites! feel free to request :)

Haerin could only stare blankly at her manager upon getting informed about a new member getting added to the lineup.

"But we're working on the new comeback right now." Minji confusedly states, wondering why ADOR would last-minute make a rash decision.

The older woman nods, understanding and knowing the members would react this way. “I understand that. We all do."

"Not only are we being put into this situation but she is too." The unofficial leader voices out her concerns. "We've already shot everything."

Hanni nods in agreement, along with Danielle letting out a hum.

"I'm sorry girls." Their manager sincerely says. "But she's coming tomorrow and there's nothing we can do about it."

Minji could only nod in defeat.

"Once she arrives, we'll be in more talks of what's going to happen to this comeback."

What?

Does this possibly mean that the comeback could get delayed? Or worst; cancelled at the last minute? All because of a new member that all of them just NOW got told about?

NewJeans isn't NCT.

So why does this team has to suffer because of a new addition? Haerin cannot process it at all.

"Do you guys think she's pretty?" Hanni asks once their manager left their dorm.

Hyein smiles brightly at the thought of their new member being a very pretty girl. "Hehe~"

The oldest member shakes her head in disappointment, smacking Hanni's arm for having an influence on Hyein.

"Everything okay, Rin?" Danielle tugs on the arm of the feline-like female.

Haerin could only let out a fazed nod. "Yeah. Just need to get used to this."

"Promise me that you are all going to behave." Minji sternly states, precisely looking at both Hanni and Hyein.

The Vietnamese's mouth drops, offended by how the elder perceived her as. "BRO? WHAT?"

The new member hasn't arrived yet and Haerin is over it.

Here they are, all five of them sitting in the living room while huddling over a table to sort out for new roommates. Minji says it's only fair that way, whatever that means.

Haerin wants to protest with the oldest's idea. She liked being roommates with Hanni. Why should she have to change roommates because of a random stranger?

"I want to dorm with the new member!" Hanni raises her hand immediately, earning a gasp from both Danielle and Hyein.

Minji clicks her tongue, crossing out Hanni's name off the paper. "Definitely not Hanni."

"Why not?" The bang-haired disputes, pouting.

"Because you'll end up flirting with her and making her uncomfortable."

Haerin doesn't get it.

How are all the members calm about this? Were they not afraid of their careers?

"More like you're keeping her for yourself!" Hanni argues.

The leader glares at the girl who just said that. "Bro?"

"I think I'm going to dorm Hyein and Hanni together." Minji mutters to herself while writing down on the scratch piece of paper.

The youngest lets out a cry for help. "Why with her?"

"Excuse me? Like I want to dorm with you too!" Hanni crosses her arm, starting to throw a tantrum.

Minji sighs, rolling her eyes at their antics. "Haerin, I'll have you and the new member dorm together, alright?"

"I get to dorm with you?" Danielle squeals excitedly, attacking Minji with a hug.

Great.

Not only does Haerin have to suffer the idea of NewJeans suddenly becoming a 6-member group but now she has to dorm with a complete stranger.

All five girls hang around in the living room, waiting for their manager and new member to arrive. Any one of them has their ears perked up, listening closely for a knock to echo any second now.

"I'm a little nervous." Danielle speaks, linking her arms with Hanni.

Haerin could only scoff in her mind. She presumes that everyone is making a big deal about all of this.

"I am too, don't worry." Minji relieves a sigh, knowing that it wasn't only her who felt like this as well.

Great; the moment Haerin was dreading since last night.

"She's here!" Hanni excitedly breaks free from the other Aussie member, running to the door.

The others run to where Hanni stand as well, with Haerin slowly trailing behind the rest. Everyone breathes in and out to calm themselves down, shushing one another in order to not scare the new addition to the team.

"Ok, I'm opening it." Hanni warns the members, slowly turning the doorknob.

Words cannot fathom in anyone's brains at the sight of you.

"Girls, this is Lee Y/N. She was transferred here from SM two days ago, specifically at Min Hee Jin's request. I hope you all welcome her with open arms and get along well." The older woman smiles, patting the shoulders of yours for reassurance before handing you off to your new team.

Right before you could object, your new manager has already run off to some other task.

Hanni nods brightly at the manager's words, with Danielle suddenly tackling you into a tight squeeze with her arms around your waist.

"Wow~ You're really pretty." Hyein giggles, not being able to look at you in the eyes.

You have got to be kidding me. Haerin rolls her eyes at how everyone is oggling at you with no shame. She could never be like them. EVER!

"You're squeezing her." Minji softly points out, rushing to your side to help grab all your luggage and suitcase before closing the door behind Danielle and you.

The Australian member gasps softly, letting go of you and muttering a bunch of "I'm sorry"s.

"You're all good." You smile in response, having everyone in the room swoon before turning to the taller who helped grab your luggage. "Thank you, by the way."

Minji's eyes widen, feeling her ears get red as she turns away. "Don't mention it."

"This has to be a joke." Haerin mumbles under her breath, mentally facepalming herself from the members' reaction.

"Y/N, this is Haerin." Hanni pushes the cat eyed female towards you. "She's your roommate!"

You bow, smiling at the female in front of you. "Nice to meet you, Haerin."

"You too." Haerin barely acknowledges you before walking off to her room.

Did you perhaps do anything wrong? Was it because you didn't greet her first?

Danielle gasps upon seeing your slight reaction, wondering what's wrong with her best friend. Maybe Haerin is having one of those days, it'll be okay, right?

"Don't mind her." Minji smiles reassuringly. "Haerin kind of keeps to herself but I'm positive that the both of you will get along."

The other four girls nod simultaneously with their "unofficial" leader's words.

"Don't stress about it too much!" Hanni gives you a warm smile. "Besides, Haerin likes pretty girls."

Huh?

"Hanni, don't scare off our new member." Minji rolls her eyes at the Vietnamese's antics, turning to you. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping, Y/N."

With a small nod, you smile at the members before bowing to them and following Minji.

"She's so cute!" Hanni elbow bumps Danielle.

The other Australian nods along, squealing excitedly.

"She already seems cool." The youngest admires the idea of you leaving your old company to do something others wouldn't do.

pt. 2 is out now!

#kpop x reader #new jeans x reader #new jeans imagines #haerin x reader #kang haerin x reader #kpop imagines

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fuctacles · 14 days

Text

Every inch of you is perfect

For @subeddieweek Day 2 | T | 1591 | t4t, transfem Stevie, transmasc Eddie, bathing, Mommy kink, FLUFF, established relationship | Ao3

And while you're here, may i interest you in @stevieweek ?

The sound of a whimper leads Stevie to the bathroom. The doors aren't locked, so she steps in, and finds her boyfriend submerged up to his neck in foam. She pats herself on the back for keeping track and being prepared this time. Gently, she knocks on the door to alert him of her presence.

Eddie looks up with sunken eyes.

"I hate this," he groans instead of a greeting. Stevie doesn't blame him.

"I know, baby." She steps properly inside and threads her fingers through Eddie's damp locks. She drops a soft kiss to his temple while massaging his scalp. "I got painkillers, ginger tea, and some brownies. I'll bring them in a second. Need anything else?"

"Don't go," Eddie protests.

"I'll put on the water, and I'll be right back," she promises, but stays for an extra minute to scrape her nails behind his ears. Regardless, Eddie makes a sound of protest when she tries to leave.

"Hey." Stevie's tone is gentle when she grasps his chin, more of a reminder than actual scolding. Eddie opens his eyes to let her know he's listening. "You're a big boy. You can wait for five minutes, can't you?"

"I can." Eddie nods petulantly.

"Good," Stevie squeezes his chin and leans down to give him a peck. "Do you want some music, baby?"

"I do."

Stevie pulls out her phone and finds Eddie's metal ballads playlist she has saved on her Spotify. She sets it on the windowsill to play.

"I'll be right back," she promises before stepping out. She leaves the door open so he can hear her moving around the kitchen, and he closes his eyes, knowing she'll take care of him.

He hears her come back, and yet the cold hand on his cheek startles him.

"Sorry, baby. Got you some Tylenol. Open up."

He opens his mouth without hesitation and lets her drop the pill on his tongue, followed by a glass of water pressed to his lips to wash down the medication. His hands stay under the foamy surface through the whole process.

"Perfect. You're so perfect, baby."

Despite the pain, Eddie smiles at the praise, eyes fluttering open.

"Wanna be good for you."

"You always are," Stevie reassures him, pecking him on the lips. She moves a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Can I join you?"

Eddie makes a face.

"Uh, I don't know. The water is kind of gross."

"Nothing is gross about you, baby," Stevie reminds him gently. "We probably need to change it anyway," she muses, dipping her hand under the foam. "Yup. Can you pull the plug for me, honey?"

Reluctantly, Eddie nods.

"Good. I'll get your tea and snacks, and I'm right back."

This time Eddie doesn't protest. He's got a mission to focus on, draining the bloody water to make room for his girlfriend. He watches the foam slowly lower, settling partially on his naked body. On the meat vessel that betrayed him once again.

Stevie comes back with the stool they often used as a makeshift side table, and settles a plate of chocolates and brownies on top of it.

"Did you get Reese's?" he asks, peeking at the snacks.

"Course I did. Who do you take me for?" She raises an eyebrow, blowing at the steaming mug in her hands. It's Eddie's Lord of the Rings one, an old convention find.

"Can I?" he asks, eyes focused on the plate.

"They are for you, sweetheart, you don't have to ask."

"Thanks, Mommy."

Stevie smiles at the endearment. It's been coming more and more naturally for him to call her that, and it made her chest bloom with love and affection. Each time got her closer to proposing.

She blows at the tea some more and takes a careful sip before handing it to Eddie.

"Here. It's cool enough to drink. Don't make that face," she adds after he scrunched his nose. "I added the raspberry syrup from Robin."

He takes the mug, sniffs its contents, and takes a sip.

“It's not bad bad, I guess,” he decides. “Thank you, Mommy.”

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now let me fix that bath for us."

She reaches for the shower rod and while Eddie drinks his ginger raspberry tea, she rinses off the leftover foam before plugging the drain and letting it fill with hot water again. Eddie watches her curiously as she walks to the cabinet and reaches for the highest shelf.

"Ooh, are we doing a bath bomb?"

They had a couple stashed somewhere for their relaxing baths together. Stevie liked getting the fancy ones and Eddie liked to look the other way when he saw their prices.

Stevie hums in affirmation.

"Got a special one just for you. You're going to love it."

"Thanks, I'm already making my own bloody water."

"Cheeky, aren't we?" She looks down at him with a raised eyebrow. He bites back the bratty smile. "You'll have to wait and see." She puts the bath bomb aside and starts undressing. Eddie watches the movements of her fingers, transfixed. "Keep drinking your tea, baby," she speaks up without looking.

Eddie takes a loud sip, watching Stevie’s top fall to the floor. Her jeans follow, and he sighs, resting the hot mug against his cheek.

"So pretty."

Stevie smiles at the compliment. Her boy called her the sweetest things, and it always worked. She was proud of her looks, but his words were what made her feel truly beautiful and feminine.

"Thank you, baby. Are you done drinking?"

"Yes." He takes one last sip and shows her the empty mug.

"Good job, sunshine." She takes the mug from him and puts it away. "Do you want me behind you or on the other side?" she asks, pulling off her socks.

Eddie considers his body and asks if it wants to be touched, and what it needs.

"Wanna see you," he decides.

"Okay." Stevie nods. She ties up her hair and Eddie watches her arm muscles flex. He can't wait for his period to be over so he can get pinned down by them and thrown over her broad shoulder. He sighs at the thought, and his train of thought must be obvious because Stevie smirks when she reaches to remove her bra. Eddie loves her tits too. Being suffocated between them was his favorite thing. He loved all of his girlfriend, her curves and muscles, her breasts, and her dick. Every inch of her was perfect. And he meant every inch.

Her clothes are in a pile on the floor and so is Eddie, except he's in the bathtub, suffering. He almost forgot, but another relentless cramp helpfully reminded him.

Stevie grabs the bath bomb before stepping into the bath with him. Eddie watches the steam cling to her skin in a wet sheen and tries to distract himself from the pain with the goddess in front of him.

She sits down and water licks the tub’s edge, threatening to spill, so she quickly turns the tap off. She scoots closer until their shins cross under the water, and reaches out to gently caress her boyfriend’s leg, knee to ankle.

"Ready?" she asks, hovering the bath bomb over the surface. Eddie nods, finally tearing his gaze away from her and to her hand and the little gift. The bath bomb is big and white, innocent-looking. It could be anything.

She lowers it into the water and thick black clouds start emerging from her hand. Eddie makes an excited sound, his hand flying under the water to reach the fizzing blackness quickly filling their tub.

"Well, that's a manly bath bomb."

Stevie bursts out laughing. She drops the bomb to do its thing and reaches up for her boyfriend's face.

"You're manly," she says, finally giving him a proper kiss. "How are you doing?"

"Better now," he admits.

They watch the water fizz and bubble until the bath bomb completely dissolves. The water is inky black, except for the extra shine of silver dusting on the surface. Eddie threads his fingers through it, reveling in the thick black color of the water, letting the silver sparkles settle on his skin.

They feed each other sugary treats and exchange soft kisses until the water cools, no longer bringing relief to the aching muscles. Only then do they wash each other properly, Stevie moving behind him to massage shampoo into his scalp.

"You want dinner on nap first?" she asks softly. However, based on her boyfriend’s droopy eyes, she could probably guess herself.

"Nap," Eddie answers without hesitation.

So she wraps him up in his fluffy black towel and helps him dry off. He doesn't protest the pampering, getting conditioner rubbed into his hair, or getting it brushed. When he's about ready to go to the bedroom, Stevie lifts him without warning. He yelps, grasping her shoulders.

"I can walk myself!" Then he protests. But Stevie presses her lips to his surgery scars and walks out of the bathroom with Eddie in her arms.

"My baby boy isn't walking anywhere today."

She sets him down on the bed, where his special boxers are already waiting, and bats his hand away when he tries to reach for them. She grabs the underwear herself and holds it for him to step into.

He does so, despite the embarrassment reddening his cheeks. She slides them up his legs and lets the elastic slap against his skin. He huffs, slapping her hands away while she snickers.

"Come on, let's go to sleep."

@stevieweek

#subeddieweek #sub eddie munson #cj x subeddieweek #sub eddie week #steddie #mine #t4t steddie #stevie harrington #transmasc eddie munson #transfem steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #transfem stevie harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #stevierything

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gojoidyll · 7 months

Text

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x F ! Reader

Part 1 | my broken maid

Warnings | abusive parents, mentions of death, grammatical errors, etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

year 1020 AD

GOJO SHINYA watched carefully. His blue eyes piercing into the back of a young maid dressed in a tattered kimono that she had to stitch up the patches herself, she worked tiredly, quietly, and most of all - she worked obediently. Her name, as he recalled, was y/n l/n. The firstborn of the l/n clan. But depsite being born in such a esteemed family she was hated all because she didn't inherit her family's cursed technique or the ability to see cursed spirits. For this reason, both her mother and father sought to have another child, and that they did. This time a young son of five years old who has already shown signs of having both inherited his father's and mother's techniques.

When he first visited the clan as it was his duty as the next clan head of the Gojo clan and the next lord of the land, his first thought upon hearing the news and seeing the girl was simply a 'how pitiful' and he went on about his day.

However, as luck would have it...he would get to know her, little by little.

He would learn that she was soft hearted and soft spoken. She never got mad, even when her own family was berating her or yelling at her. She never raised her eyes in defiance. She never yelled back. She never even slammed the sliding door.

He would learn that she was a lovely singer with a voice of an angel. Her little lullabies echoing quietly in the garden's of the l/n estate as he would find himself wandering around as talks with the l/n clan have concluded and he was given free reign to explore the place.

He would learn that she loves flowers and even tries to protect them when her own mother would come out and start ripping the small plants from the ground saying how y/n was "undeserving of such things as pretty flowers". Gojo knew he wasn't meant to witness the scene, but his six eyes allowed him to see a lot of things. He even got to see how y/n cried over the deadening flowers and how she would replant them in hopes that they would grow back.

He would learn that she flusters easily. As when she had caught his gaze unexpectedly one hot March afternoon, she had blushed profusely. Her (color) cheeks heating up greatly as her eyes would fixate onto the ground. Her hands gripping the broom a little bit more tightly as she resumed her sweeping. She was so cute, he mused.

So, he would learn and learn and learn many things. She was gentle, caring, soft, and cute too. He found that he wanted to hold her close as the weeks turned into months and months turned into a year as he would find himself visiting the l/n clan many times in hopes of seeing her.

The head of the l/n clan. Sojiro. Would take pride and his ego would visibly swell as THE Gojo Shinya would frequently visit his estate. Gojo honestly hated the man and wished that y/n was the clan head instead. At least then he would have someone pretty to look at instead of an ugly man, and ugly five year old who wouldn't stop smiling, and an even uglier wife who would eye him like a piece of meat.

But Gojo would tell himself that it was worth it. He would get to see y/n (even though it was at a distance) and he would get to make treaties and deals with the esteemed l/n clan. He kills two birds with one stone.

"You will offer this land to us?! Are you certain my lord?!"

Gojo gave a stiff smile and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "please, I'm no lord yet. So, technically this land here is just a promise for when I come into power. Though, when I do become lord, I hope you will give me something else in return along with your devote loyalty."

Sojiro could only bow to Gojo. His forehead meeting the floorboards, "of course Lord Gojo, whatever you wish from us will be yours!"

Gojo clapped his hands together as a smile adorned his face, "splendid! I'm glad to hear it, but for now...I'll wait to tell you what I want. Once I become lord of the land and take my title as the head of the jujutsu sorcerers, i'll gift you the land and then tell you of my desires from your family. Will that suffice?"

"Of course Lord Gojo!"

Gojo smiled happily as he stood up, "good then! I think I'll take a small walk around the grounds and then take my leave. See you all in the next coming of days."

The family bowed, hell, even the five year old did after his mother urged him a little. But Gojo didn't care. His focus was to see the cute little maid he has been secretly pining after.

Well, that was until he had opened the door and walked right into said girl he was looking for. A crash sounding as a mess of dirty water and rags spilled at their feet. And when their eyes locked. Oh, the fear he saw within her (color) hues. He wanted to hug her tight and tell her it'll be alright, bit refrained from doing so. Instead, he watched as she got on her hands and knees. Head bowed to the floor, lips trembling as she apologized over and over and over again. Her tattered and mis-matched kimono getting dirty and wet from the cleaning water.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Gojo."

Her voice would tremble. Shake and quiever. He didn't need the six eyes to know that her parents and even little brother were glaring daggers at her. Oh, how he wanted to sweep her off feet and whisk her away right then and there. But it wasn't his place. He wasn't exactly a lord yet after all.

Sojiro would quickly apologize as well as he would get his bearings. And as Gojo found himself in a new pair of clothes and ushered out of the estate. He had wished to see y/n one more time. But the head of the l/n clan seemed eager to usher him out most likely because he wanted to "discipline" his oldest daughter for causing such a mess. When in reality it was Gojo's fault just as much.

But he decided to leave it at that. Merely smiling and saying it was alright. Waving a dismissive hand as his usual walk around the grounds was postponed. He reckoned he could see her again (properly) some other time. Hopefully without fear in her eyes.

But alas.

Gojo Shinya would not see her again.

Because apparently she was beaten to death that same night. When he heard the news he had a sort of .. fell into silent fury dwelling within him.

A girl he had fallen for from a distance so easily taken from him depsite him being a sorcerer and having the six eyes.

For the rest of his days after that, he vowed to find her again for it was written in books of old that pure souls with tragic endings got second chances.

So with reincarnation embedding itself into the deepest parts of his mind, he vowed to see her again. For he had a tragic end too. I mean, he didn't end up with her after all, right?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo #female reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader #yandere #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n

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valkeakuulas · 6 months

Note

For the smut writing sentence starter:

"Is that how you usually get out of these situations? By fucking your way out of them?" Fox/Fives

If that interests you? :D

*tilts head this way* *tilts head that way*

This... This didn't come out really smutty but humorous with a dash of competence kink?

Warnings: Brief moment of violence towards a bound Fox. Not by Fives. I promise that.

** ** ** ** ** ** Fives grunted when his bound arms smacked painfully against the wall he had been thrown into. He nearly cracked his skull as well but only nearly. Still, with the pain radiating from his arms, Fives let himself slide down on the floor with a hiss.

He could hear the other trooper who had already been occupying the small room talk back to the hulking Devaronian that had tossed Fives like he was a sack of meilooruns.

" - unnecessary damage. There are other kriffing ways to get rough, you know. If you want a lesson, I'd be more than happy to give you one."

Fives lifted his head to see the Devaronian take a menacing step closer to the bound trooper, whose smile showed more teeth than was appropriate in polite company.

Then again, Fives mused as the thug got close enough to kick the lying vod. This was no polite company.

Fives winced when the Devaronian's boot came in contact with the other clone's stomach but Fives wasn't surprised to see the vod twist his body so that the impact was lessened. Still, it must've hurt like kriff because the vod wheezed painfully, curling up.

But what surprised Fives was the fact that when the trooper turned to look up at the Devaronian, the toothy smile hadn't budged an inch.

Actually, he looked even more feral than before.

"Harder, please," the vod purred, kriffing purred, and winked.

Both Fives and the Devaronian's jaws dropped and for a moment Fives feared that the thug would get mad. But it seemed that this ballsy (or unhinged) vod's actions took the Devaronian by such surprise that he actually stepped back with a look of disgust and instead spat on the trooper's face before turning around and left

The door slid close with a bang, the sound of the lock engaging following.

Still a little stunned, Fives watched the older clone squirm and heave himself into a sitting position because he was clearly a lot older than Fives. Even in the dimness of the room Fives could see the silver on his temples and the old scars on his face, one which cut through the left side of his mouth.

"Seems like someone needs to rethink their Kink List," the vod snorted as he used the wall as support and bent himself nearly in half so that he could wipe away at least some of the Devaronian's spit. "If I wanted to be spat at, I would've stayed on shift," he added with a mutter.

"Is that how you usually get out of these situations? By fucking your way out of them?" Fives blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

The other clone froze, almost as if he had forgotten Fives' presence.

Fives winced when the vod slowly unfurled himself, staring Fives dead in the eye.

"The kriff you just said?" he asked calmly, almost eerily so. The toothy grin from earlier was gone, replaced by a bland, professional expression that wouldn't have looked out of place on Commander Cody's face.

Fives felt his face heat up and he could only shrug awkwardly before tilting his head towards the locked door.

The vod's eyes flickered in that direction before returning back to staring at Fives. "The answer to your question, ARC trooper, is a big fat 'no'," he replied eventually after the longest seconds of Fives' whole life.

He was about to apologize, when the vod continued, almost nonchalantly:

"I'm more of the type who fucks around and finds out," he informed even as he tapped his left boot on the floor, springing out a small vibroknife.

Fives felt his jaw drop for the second time as the trooper twisted and shimmied his way until he managed to drop the vibroknife behind him and unlatch the cuffs. He stood up, rubbing his wrists as he walked to Fives.

"What about you, ARC trooper? From what I know, 501st boys are always ready to fuck around," the vod asked Fives, kneeling smoothly before him, the vibroknife hanging loosely in his fingers.

"How did you - ? Who are you?" Fives asked, baffled and he felt a different kind of twist in his guts when that toothy grin returned, the other trooper oozing a level of competence Fives had only seen the Alphas wield back on Kamino.

"If you help me find out who the kriff thinks it's smart to grab a pair of troopers in the middle of the street, I'll tell you my name," he suggested mischievously, and this time Fives swallowed, torn between leaning away and leaning forward. "If you find that fork-tongued bastard, make sure to punch his face in and I might do even more than just tell my name."

"Sir, yes sir," Fives gasped and for a second he forgot that he was still cuffed too, paindully yanking his arm as he had tried to salute.

"Good soldier," the vod praised, dropping voice into a low purr, and oh kriff, why did that make Fives' cock stir?

What had the trooper said earlier? Something about a Kink List?

Fives might just have to consult him on that too.

But first, he had a Devarionian to hunt down.

#asks #marple-cat #Commander Fox #Fives #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #fanfiction #askbox writing prompts #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar #clone shipping

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two-white-butterflies · 3 months

Text

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part five

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

Man who makes a beast out of himself got nothing to lose Sold my soul long ago, nothing left to choose I'm tired, tired of singing the blues - Tired of Singing the Blues, Lana Del Rey.

"There's nothing rich people love more than free things," Jacaerys mused watching his relatives fight over freebies, some were exquisite works of art like that little Monet that his uncle brought or the jade mirror from the Ming Dynasty. "You're not going to join them," you raised an eyebrow - taking a sip of your champagne.

The younger boy stared.

"I still love my life, unfortunately." he chuckles. "We've got a very eccentric family, I hope that this isn't too new for you." Jacaerys apologized, walking you into the other room. "I don't think I know what normal is. I'm an orphan, my mother died pretty young." you admit, biting your lower lip. "Father?"

"Couldn't be more bothered to acknowledge my existence." you shrug, feeling a familiar presence behind you. "Aemond," Jacaerys greeted with hidden rigidity - the atmosphere between the both of them was tense. You were a good judge of character, and you could see that neither of them liked each other.

"Jace," your boyfriend smiled falsely.

Aemond was a shadow in his younger nephew's presence, Jacaerys the golden boy - could do no wrong. While Aemond struggled with being accepted in the school of his dreams, Jacaerys was welcomed - and he still had the nerve to decline the invitation, instead choosing to study in some stupid university in the countryside.

"It's been a while," Jace added, attempting to keep the conversation civil. "Five years? Is that how long it takes to study college?" Aemond undermined his rival. "I took a gap year," Jace turned his head in your direction, trying to put a finger on why you looked familiar.

"- toured the world, I even saw the Arc de Triomphe." the younger man smiles. Aemond says nothing in return - as if sensing the awkwardness, Jace chuckles.

"Well, I think this is my cue to say goodbye." he raised his glass, retreating into the foyer.

(Harrenhal. The Past.)

"I don't know why you keep me here. To prolong my agony?" you rasped at your older sister. Harrenhal had big rooms and soft mattresses that you could just sleep in for thousands of years. You laid in the beds in the morning, feeling tired and sucked dry of life, but in the night - you couldn't sleep.

Memories of what happened months ago came flooding back. Haunting you awake. It felt like you were standing on a pile of bodies. You turned to look at your older sister again, her eyes were once filled with warmth at the thought of you - now they were dim.

"I'll keep the windows open, if you hate your life - then jump - like that niece of yours, Helaena." she announced in a tone that wasn't sad nor happy. Your eyebrows merged into each other. Princess Helaena was dead? But you weren't bothered - you didn't know her.

A bitter chuckle escapes your mouth.

"You took my life into your own hands, to play with as you please. Now that you're tired, you want me to pretend that it was my own agency that led me here?" you argued.

"Perhaps you and I are the same." Alys responded.

"I had a dream before you were born that Aemond would come and free us, save us from our father's abuse. I know better now than to believe my visions." she turned away, slamming the door shut - leaving you alone.

Dreams were portals of the world - you could see the past, present and future in them. Alys Rivers could vividly remember the man in her dreams, his warm purple eye and long silver hair.

The Prince would come and his song will be that of Ice and Fire. From his blood would come the prince that was promised, opposite of him in temperance and demeanor - you almost wouldn't believe that they came from the same tree, but they were and the prince's breath would save them against ice.

"And when will you return, this time?" Alys leaned on the doorframe, staring at your frame that was frantically packing her bags. "Princess Rhaenyra tells that she needs my help, I can't deny her." you smiled.

"She's Queen now - and she's asking you because she needs you to fight in a war." Alys' lips turned thin at the thought of losing you. "Rumors have swirled around, they believe that she killed Harwin." she proceeded, trying to persuade you to stay.

"You told me that Larys killed our brother." you froze slightly. "I don't want you to leave, stay please - I've been dreaming about salvation. If you stay here, we'll be safe." your older sister pleaded.

"I'm never in your dreams, almost like I'm not supposed to be here. I need to save the Queen's soldiers, to ensure that she wins in this war. You tell me that her heirs are fathered by Harwin, shouldn't we protect our blood?" you inquired and your sister takes a deep breath. There was no stopping you.

"Promise me that you'll stay safe," she pleaded, handing you a small necklace that she enchanted. "I will," you promised - squeezing her shoulders as a way to show that you weren't kidding.

Like a ghost, you didn't even realize that you were sitting on the dinner table. "Columbia University is pretty hard, what did you major in again?" Rhaenyra inquires, taking a bite of her steak.

"Mathematics, it was supposed to be my pre-law course but life happened and I had to change a few things." you smiled, eyebrows merging with each other in confusion. What the hell happened? Why couldn't you remember anything before this?

"Ooh being a lawyer is the coolest. It's uncommon to see someone with Math as a pre-law, you must be really smart." Helaena adjusted her glasses and the people around you agreed. "Never in a million years did we expect that Aemond will end up with someone like you." Harwin articulated and Aemond rolls his eye.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he chuckled, trying to make it seem like a joke. "I always saw you with someone weird, like that Claire girl that does music now." Harwin quickly rebutted.

Alicent knocks on wood three times. Rhaenyra giggles, "Put some respect on that girl's name, isn't she engaged to a billionaire?" she inquired and Aemond shook his head. "They broke up." he confirmed.

"Three kids and he just throws her away like nothing."

"It is not nice to gossip," Alicent interrupts their conversation. "Gossiping is done by small-minded people." she insisted and Rhaenyra looks away. They used to be close friends, Alicent was her former-babysitter - then somehow she had an affair with her father.

"So are affairs, but none of us complain." Rhaenyra grumbled and the other woman pretended not to hear. "You're the one to talk, didn't you cheat on your ex-husband with mister hunk here?" Aegon pointed at Harwin and Daemon's eyes widened.

You know what they say - a shot of whiskey for luck, and a bottle of whiskey for disaster. "Oh my god I can't believe we're talking about this again. I didn't ruin a family and as far as anyone is concerned, Laenor was totally fine with it. Weren't you, Laenor?" Rhaenyra turned her head at Laenor's direction.

"I liked it, actually." he hummed watching the drama unfold. "Yeah cuz when you have a mistress it's alright, but when it's my father - suddenly, my mother's the fucking devil." Aegon insulted.

You took a deep breath, what were you to make of this situation.

"So you do agree, that your mother was a mistress?" Rhaenyra said smugly, Daemon bit back a chuckle. "Can we all calm down?" Harwin placed his hand in front of the siblings. "This is supposed to be my son's birthday, and we have a guest here. A little decorum would be nice." Harwin tried to decrease the tension.

"Yeah, whatever." Aegon stood up to leave. He hated his fucking life.

Shortly after Aegon's outburst, you and Aemond decided to leave. "That was the most eventful birthday party that I've ever attended." you chuckled, fastening your seatbelt.

"I can't believe that they decided to pull that shit while you were there." he complained, driving out of Rhaenyra's driveway.

"That's family, I guess." he shrugged.

"- and we're never going back." he added

72 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 7 months

Text

THROTTLE - JJK | NINE

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - plans are being set in motion!!! back to busan we go! references to drugs, shitty driving, the usual. no smut! a rarity! plot!! one of my fave metaphors / set of lines in the entire fic is in this one!!

word count - 11.4k

minors dni // series masterlist

"I've been thinking," you tell Hoseok a little after dusk. The sun sets later these days, mid-year sun never wanting to settle. A monsoon has been looming for a few days now, but the grey clouds sit defiant in the air. "You were right."

He looks at you, contemplation sinking into the creases of his frown, the crisp white shirt he's wearing unbuttoned to his mid chest. A pair of thin-framed glasses adorn his eyes as he skims over the notes of a casefile from work.

"What about?"

His voice is soft as he asks.

With your hair like this - top layer in a half-undone bun, the rest wisping around your shoulders - he's reminded of how you used to be.

There's a lot to be said for your relationship, or lack thereof, but once upon a time, you'd cared for another. Would dance in his parents' kitchen when they were out of town, you in one of his shirts, bare feet padding against the ondol heated floor.

You look younger with your hair like this. Like yourself, he thinks. Someone he used to know.

It's part of the reason, you think, that you're so awful to another. You grew up together. He's a part of your formation, and you a part of his. There's a reminder of the innocence that once was.

He knows how much you wanted to get out of the fold. Knows you wouldn't have come back without an ulterior motive. He isn't naive to this. Isn't naive to anything you do. Is well aware you've been doing things that no woman with a diamond on her ring finger should be doing.

But he's no saint, either. The ring was given to you with a purpose. Just like his dress shirts are dry cleaned with a purpose. Saves you from having to wash his secretary's lipstick out of them.

"I need something to fill my days," you say. "I think I'm going crazy cooped up here."

It's not a lie.

It's also not the full truth; not what's prompting this conversation, but that's neither here nor there.

Hoseok nods. Put his case file on the coffee table and turns his full attention to you. There's a softness to him now, one that he didn't have the last time you spoke.

He's not all bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is just caught up in a God-awful world. He's like you, in that regard.

Whatever freedoms once belonged to you have been traded for protection - not just from the men who lurk around dingy boxing clubs, but from your own family, too.

Hoseok's position within the police force gives you an added layer of armour. He's chainmail. He knows this. Knows you need him.

But he needs you, too. He's got a greasy pole to climb. Helps him out if you're throwing him towels from the Mayor's office. Will get him to the top a little quicker.

It's unsurprising that he had been the one to suggest picking your relationship back up where it had been left a few years prior.

He had painted the idea as a beautiful utopia; Daegu's darling children, reunited. A powerhouse. Unstoppable.

You didn't have a plan back then, not yet - but power seemed like a good place to start.

"You've been away for a while," he muses, well aware that it's not been an easy adjustment for you. "I... Look, you and I both know this isn't ideal. I know you wouldn't be here if you thought there was another option for you."

When you nod, he thinks you might cry.

The person you are isn't the person he once knew. You're so strong in some regards, far more powerful than he ever thought you would be and yet at times you can seem so docile. So timid. Weak. He doesn't understand it. Not really. Doesn't understand you.

Because if he did, he'd know there's nothing docile about you.

"I don't actually want to ruin your life," he says with a small smile that seems sincere. Might not be. You choose to believe it is.

"It's fine," you offer back an equally minuscule smile. "I do a good enough job of that all on my own."

He presses his lips together, and contemplative dimples etch themselves into his cheeks. "What are you thinking? Let's work together. Find a solution."

Men. So easy to wrap around your finger.

"I'm thinking of proposing a library initiative to get the city kids reading. You know how much my Father likes a good press release," you say. "I'm not too sure yet. I could volunteer at the library, start promoting for the education sector. Something like that. It will give me something to do, and gets me in a public role that is pretty much as safe for publicity as can be. If I'm working as a volunteer, there's no need for additional expenses."

As you recite your lines, you think of Jimin - and how good he is at putting words together to make them sound convincing. He and Jin are definitely the brains of Kang's boys. Namjoon and Jungkook the brawn.

Like clockwork, you're thinking about him again. Thinking about the way he didn't take his eyes off you for the entire meeting. Thinking about the way he didn't crack a single smile. Thinking about how he'd followed you out afterwards, just to ask if you were okay - and about how forlorn he'd looked when you told him that you're none of his concern, and that the only thing between the pair of you anymore is business.

And then he had smirked. Told you that business was the only thing that had ever been between the pair of you. Told you not to get it twisted. Told you not to flatter yourself, and reminded you that he was the one who had orchestrated your entire relationship.

"Whatever's between us -" He had almost snarled. "- Is what I made it to be."

You'd laughed. Stepped a little closer. Toyed with the key still around his neck, and said, "we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He was silent. Could barely breathe, let alone think straight. Wasn't till you were a mile across the city that he seemed to remember how to function like a human being again. He knows one thing for certain: he absolutely cannot be around you. Not if he wants any shot at sanity.

And so when you walk into the boxing club the next day, Jungkook pauses.

He watches how you scan the room, but drops his gaze before your eyes are able to reach his. He doesn't care for making conversation with you. Knows that it will be a fruitless endeavour.

It feels like oceans bloat the distance between you, and he's never much been one for swimming. Loves the freefall of the dive; hates the dictation of the currents.

"Is Jin about?" You ask, an air of indifference to your tone.

Following the conversation with Hoseok, you'd been granted approval from the Mayoral office to start planning the campaign. You'll be working with the PR team, but it's your domain. They'll be there to hold your hand if you need it, but you'll be the guide.

You're just here to report back to Seokjin. Aren't here for small talk. Would rather swallow a razor blade, you think. Much more pleasant.

Still in his workout gear, Jungkook doesn't look at you. Just shakes his head, slams his locker door shut, and kicks the heavy metal side door of the club open.

"You shouldn't be here," he says as he exits. "Ain't safe for you."

And he's right. It's a terrible place for you to be. Not for the risk of Kang showing up, or you being spotted fraternising with the enemy, but because of the way Jungkook makes you feel like your heart might stop beating entirely.

Part of you thinks it would be preferable if it did.

The door slams behind him, and echoes into the lofty room. The chime is haunting. Almost sounds like the same one that used to be in your stomach.

You're looking at your feet, gearing yourself up to leave, when the door swings back open.

Jungkook is agitated. Chewing on his cheeks, thunder in his eyes; he's the monsoon that's been looming all week.

You wish he would just crash. Pour down. Bless you with the glory of what it feels like to be covered in his torrential rains.

But there's a ring on your finger, and a hole in his chest. His mouth is constantly dry in your presence, and he's all cried out. He's got nothing left to give.

You look so familiar. So much like home - but Jungkook lost the keys a long time ago, and the one around his neck won't work on any of the fucking locks. He's shut out. An intruder every time he tries to peep inside the windows. It's invasive, the way he looks at you.

Has you drawing the curtains shut.

"I wasn't kidding," he says, his rounded white teeth clamping on his bottom lip before he can speak his favourite letter out loud. Doesn't wanna call you the name he used to trace on your back in the dark of the night. "You don't what it's been like since... You don't know. It's not safe."

"It's never been safe," you sneer. "Why the fuck are you acting like you care now?"

You watch as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head. Looks to his feet.

There's something calming about it. You've seen his head hung low like this many times over.

It's never been due to your faults, but his, instead - his own disappointment, his own shame.

When his eyes fall back on you, dark and heavy, you're reminded of exactly who he is: danger.

So yeah, you're right. It's never been safe. Not with him around. Not safe for your life, not safe for your heart.

Never safe.

But he's always cared.

He wants to curse you out. Wants to say that you've no fucking idea how hard this has all been for him. Wants you to know that the only reason you're both still in this mess is because he cared. If he had never cared, then he never would have fucked it all up in the first place.

The words on the tip of his tongue are knocked back down his throat when a familiar rattle sounds in the parking lot. Thick and heavy, the gargle belongs to an exhaust pipe, and Jungkook has been around these parts for long enough to know exactly who it belongs to.

"Shit," he hisses. Doesn't answer your question. Holds the door open, instead. "Out."

When you stay put, he snarls.

"C, get the fuck out. It's Kang. You wanna fuck things up all over again? Wanna prolong the time we have to spend together?"

You start walking as soon as he finishes his final question.

"S'what I thought," he mutters when you walk past, and closes the door behind you both. "Go slowly. Don't turn the corner into the parking lot. Wait for me."

He clicks the lock shut; scrambles the code on the padlock. Keeps his eyes on you while you wait by the corner of the building. Appreciates that you listened to him for once in your life.

Old Man Kang only comes to the boxing club these days to check up on Jungkook - to make sure he's fighting fit. He's got a boxing match coming up. A big one. Puts him up against some boys from Busan. He knows they don't take well to 'traitors', which is what he's deemed as, now that he's fighting for a Daegu club.

Kang's banking on a heavy return should Jungkook win - but there's no 'should' about it. He has to win. If he doesn't, his debt to Kang - for the money lost on you - will only increase.

"You drive here?" Jungkook whispers as he comes to stand behind you, peeking over your shoulder to get a view of the parking lot. You choose not to inhale through your nose. Know that you might just die if he still smells the same.

He scans the cars, but can't spot the Merc you've been driving.

Of course he can't. Hoseok needed it for work. An out of town job.

"Got the bus," you say back, just as quietly.

"M'kay," Jungkook says gently. Goes to put a hand on your waist. Stops himself. Remembers things aren't how they used to be. "Take my key, get in the passengers side. Keep your head down. I'm gonna go back in for a minute, and make it look like I'm just leaving. They'll ask questions if they hear me drive off without seeing my face."

"I don't-"

"It's not up for debate. If they see you here, it fucks everything up. Just get in the damn car."

It's silent, save for the faint hum of traffic on the main road a few blocks away. Just you, and Jungkook, and the sound of the city. Neither of you really understand the way you feel. It's not quite sorrow. It's solemn. Sad - yet there's serenity, too. A saving grace for those who have fallen from it.

Jungkook decides that you're too stubborn, but also knows the one thing that always got you on side was a little desperation.

He gets closer. Puts his hand on the back of your neck. Wonders if you can feel the pulse in his thumb, and how it's beating a mile a minute. Squeezes ever so gently. Whispers, "Please, C."

The bus stop is two minutes up the road. You know that you could make it there - and be on the next bus going anywhere - by the time Jungkook has finished distracting Kang. You don't need him to save you. You don't need his protection. His kindness.

Yet you hold out your hand. Take his keys, and say, "Please be quick."

All he can do is nod, because truthfully, he'll do whatever he can to get himself beside you again.

"I'll be as quick as I can be. Promise."

It's funny. He's broken every single promise he's ever made you. Strange of him to think it holds any merit, now.

Doesn't stop you from holding out your pinky, mind you. Also doesn't stop him from linking his with yours. Pretty little promise, wrapped up with a pink bow. All perfect and pristine, satin against skin.

At least it's not red, you think. Not this time.

You hear Jungkook greet Kang - "Hi! Didn't see you there. Was just about to leave! What can I do for you?" - and decide that the coast is clear. Glancing around, you make a beeline for Jungkook's obnoxiously bright tin can of a car.

You hate it. Hate it in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns. No matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.

But of course you will.

It's home.

Some say it's where the heart is.

And considering you've been without one ever since Jungkook left your apartment all those months ago, perhaps it's not a bad place to start looking for it.

As you approach the bright, siren-red car in the parking lot, Jungkook's keys sit snug in the palm of your hand.

The satin lanyard strap is a little worn through - a freebie from a car show he'd attended a few years ago - but is just as soft as it always has been.

There's comfort to be found in it, like a blanket from childhood, or the warmth of a heavy duvet after a long day. It's a comfort you haven't felt in Hoseok's bedding, nor in the childhood bedroom you're able to visit again now that you're back on cordial terms with your family.

Jungkook had never smothered you. Not once. Not like a blanket nor a duvet could - and that's exactly why you kind of used to wish he would. You had craved the weight of his body; wanted your airwaves cut off by the very essence of everything he was. Deprivation had made you desperate.

Foolishly, it seems like not much has changed. Not much and everything all at once.

When you hook your fingers beneath the door handle, you can still feel the burn of his touch. In fact, your pinky finger almost feels numb. You hold it out a little, away from your other fingers. You want to preserve the feeling; lodge the sensation in your memories, embed it into your skin. Never wanna lose it, as if you have any choice in the matter.

Sinking into the passenger seat (alternatively known as the closest thing you've ever had to a second home) it's the scent of his leather that hits you first. A little oaky. Well-aged. Cared for. Restored by a pair of rough hands that hand touched you with just as much gentle cautiousness, once upon a time.

It's details like these; his discipline when it comes to making sure his car is looked after - preserved - that let you know just how meticulous Jungkook is. Nothing he ever does is purely up to chance. Luck isn't something that comes naturally to him. It's something he crafts.

Like Rumplestiltskin, he'd spun gold from straw in the form of your relationship. None of it was real. Not really.

A few tears brim on your lashline and threaten to fall - but you've never taken well to threats. You wipe them away. Won't let him know that being back in a place that once felt so much like safety is scaring you half to death, now.

It's a vow you've made to yourself: Jungkook will never know how he affects you. He won't see you cry. Will never know your skin is forever changed by his touch, numb to everything else but the tips of his fingers and the taste of his tongue against your own.

He'd lost the luxury of 'you' the very second he decided you were expendable.

Shifting in your seat, you're acutely aware of the little changes that have been made in your absence. There's a new air freshener, but it smells just the same. Some sort of pine. Gas station staple.

There's no hairband around his gear stick, like you know there used to be. No receipts from GS25 in the cupholders, no dirt from your shoes in the footwells, no bottles of soju left to roll around in the back.

His car is void of all essence of you.

The centre console - the old store for your snacks after late night shifts - is empty, save for a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

They're large - clear lenses - and slightly more rounded than you'd expect of his taste, but the thick dark frame on top of them seems apt. You can't imagine him wearing them. Think it might be fatal. Decide you'd never like to find out.

When you flick down the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror, you almost miss it; the one relic of you.

Tucked in a small slip where his tax documents should be, is a photo strip. Taken in a beachside photobooth after a few too many drinks, you remember it well.

It's rough at the edges. Torn in half. Jungkook is gone, and yet you remain.

The removal of himself from his own memories is stark. Confusing. Distressing. Forces you to focus on yourself; the smile that you know was caused by him tickling at your ribs, and the tattooed hand on the side of your face in the second picture, that you know for a fact was pulling you in for a kiss, even if you can't see it.

In the photographs, your eyes are bright, despite the black-and-white filter (his pick). There's a stupid pastel purple frame around each one of the pictures, with miniature Kuromi's perched on the edges (your pick).

You wonder where the other half is. Decide you're better off not knowing, but don't have time to give it much thought though, for Jungkook's yanking at the drivers-side door, and asking for the keys before you even have a chance to flip the visor back up.

He looks at you - eyes jagged, jawline sharp - and lets his gaze fall to your hand, where the pictures sit pretty.

"That's still in here?" he sneers, as if it's a surprise; as if he doesn't look at it every time he stops by the river to breathe for a moment. Just like he didn't sit on the beach in Busan last month and set fire to the other half; watching himself disintegrate. "Keep it. I've got no use for it."

He holds his hand out for his keys, so you make sure to drop them just beyond his grasp and into his footwell. You know you're pressed for time, and that you really shouldn't be fucking about, but he's too much of an asshole, you decide.

"Real fuckin' mature," he grumbles, pulling on the lever beneath his chair to push it back so he can reach down for them. There's silence as his posture restores and he sinks his key into the ignition. A spark lights in his engine, the exhaust roaring into action. He knocks the gear stick into reverse, and holds onto the headrest of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. Swings the car around. "Head down."

You do as you're told.

It's mainly because you don't want to give him any more reason to snarl, but also because the quicker you do, the quicker you can just get the fuck out of his car.

It's claustrophobic now that he's sharing the space with you. You don't wanna breathe; don't wanna smell his aftershave. Don't wanna listen; don't wanna hear the way he mumbles to himself. Don't wanna look; don't wanna see his tattooed hand knock the gear stick into first, then straight up to third.

In fact, you'd quite like to stop existing altogether.

Jungkook used to say how much he enjoyed it. Enjoyed existing with you.

You hope it makes him feel fucking sick, now.

"Just drop me at the end of the road," you say. "I'll make my way from there."

"End of the-" he scoffs, not even finishing his repetition of the question. He coasts around the corner, foot on the clutch. You wonder if he's exercising a complete lack of control on purpose. Wonder if he's baiting you. "That private school education of yours really didn't give you any street smarts did it, huh?"

He definitely is baiting you. There's no doubt about it. He's petty motherfucker when he wants to be - and you can be just as bad. You just can't decide on how you want to respond.

Firing back would be the easy option. It's what he would expect. What he knows of you.

Staying silent looks meek, you think.

The final thing you consider is crying. Do you want to? Not really. You're more frustrated than you are sad. Thing is, he wouldn't expect it. Wouldn't know what to do. Would definitely make him freak out a little. Might even get him trying to make things better.

But you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you laugh. Look straight ahead. "Baby, these streets are mine. We both know I'm untouchable."

His hard stare on the road intensifies. You're approaching the bridge. Neither of you want to speak, both too aware of the impact that first night had on your lives; how it planted a seed that turned out to be nothing more than a venus fucking fly trap.

And yet Jungkook just can't help himself. He doesn't want to let you win.

It's pathetic, and he knows it. Knows that he's the one who fucked you over; that he's the one who did all of this. Knows that you've every right to be hurting, and every right to want him hurting, too.

But you're engaged, he fumes internally. Due to be married. Have committed your life to someone else, as if the time you had spent with Jungkook meant nothing. It's only been about four months since it all went to shit. He can barely look at the watermark he still hasn't cleaned off of his bathroom mirror.

Lies were fed to you between his kisses, but every single one of those was real. He meant it every time he pressed his lips against yours; every time he told you he needed you in his sheets eternally.

He makes assumptions like you used to do. Thinks about your fiance. Assumes it's love. Has to be.

It's clear to him now that the feelings you pretended to have for him were always a lie.

He doesn't understand why.

Sure, he knows why he lied to you. Knows that he filled your head with half-truths, and tiptoed around the facts of the situation, but he was always honest with how he felt. Never told you bullshit about wanting to keep you close. Meant every single word of it.

But you didn't. It's obvious to him that your lies went beyond your family tree. Nobody likes a liar - not even the boy who cried wolf, himself.

"Untouchable?" he smirks. It's cruel. Juvenile. "We both know that isn't true, don't we?"

"Haven't you heard, baby?" You simper, voice sweet a honey laced with rat poison. You hold up your hand, and wiggle your fingers. Light catches in the cut of your diamond. "I've got a ring. I'm untouchable in every sense of the word."

It stings. Almost like your diamond's encrusted on a dagger, and you've impaled it into his chest.

He doesn't look at you as he drives. Not like he used to. Doesn't throw you a single glance across the centre console, doesn't hold your knee nor your hand beneath his on the gear stick. Instead, his jaw remains taut, eyes ahead on an endless horizon that he hopes he never reaches. If he keeps driving forever, none of this has to end.

For a little while longer, he can pretend.

Pretend that things are as always as they were; that perhaps you've just had a small argument - over what to have for dinner or the way he'd rolled his eyes at a suggestion you had made - and that you'll crack a smile soon. He'll say something dumb, play your favourite song. Tell you he's sorry. Pull over, and refuse to drive until you hold his hand.

But your hand has a ring on it now. He'd feel it lodged beneath his fingers. Would be indented with the mark of commitment from another man.

And that's what makes him crack.

"Engaged," he laughs quietly, not an ounce of humour in his voice as he shakes his head. His eyes stay on the road. He can't look at you. Knows he wouldn't be able to look away.

You're silent for a moment. Consider not responding - but his tone bothers you.

"Uh-huh. We've established that - but you've no right to pass judgement."

Jungkook doesn't want to pass judgement. He wants to be vulgar.

Wants to remind you of the way you were taking his cock a matter of months ago. Wants to ask if your fiance hits the spot like he knows he used to. Wants to know if your body is still stained by the colour of his claim; rosy handprints on your ass, plum bruises on your chest left by his lips. Wants to know if it's his name that reverberates in your head when you bite onto pillows. Wants to know if your fiance even fucks you well enough to make you do that. He doubts it.

He doesn't want to know the answers to any of those, though.

"I'm not passing judgement, C," he says in perhaps the most judgemental tone you've veer heard, flicking his indicator to merge into the next lane. "What's the dress like? Can't be white, can it?"

Bastard.

"We're going traditional," you lie. It hasn't even been discussed yet. You also don't plan on sticking around long enough to see it through to the big day, but that's none of Jungkook's business. "Hanboks only. No modern dress."

Funny, Jungkook thinks. Had never pictured you as the traditional type. Then again, never pictured you walking down the aisle with anyone but him.

Truth be told, it's not like he's ready for any of that. He's not good with the future. Not anymore. Moves from one bad decision to the next. No point in planning ahead.

He disregards the flashing amber light over the pedestrian crossing, narrowly missing it as it changes to red. His foot is on the gas, and he doesn't seem to be easing. You adjust in your seat. Cross your legs. Hold onto the door handle.

"Slow down."

The way he ignores you is childish, and the way he speeds up is even more so.

"Jungkook-"

"Don't tell me how to drive my own damn car," he snaps.

"Then don't drive it like a fucking idiot!"

The tyres screech to a halt. You're almost certain you can smell burnt rubber.

Around you, the road is empty. You're just a few blocks over from the bridge, not far enough for the coast to be clear, and you both know it. There's silence. No static from his radio, no chatter of former lovers; just his engine, purring softly, echoing into the night.

Neon lights from the amalgamation of churches and noraebangs rain down on you through his windows, painting your skin in a red haze. The beam of his headlights on the road ahead is intrusive, decrepit buildings shown in all their miserable glory; paint peeling from the walls, rust forming beneath nails like tears on cheeks, railings covering windows to keep outdated electronics protected. You hate this area. Always have done. Can't believe you used to consider it home.

"Fine then," he snaps. "Get out. Walk yourself home. See what I care. Don't get hit."

He expects resistance. Expects you to defy him. It's what he wants. Wants you choosing to stay - but like fuck are you gonna let him speak to you like that.

It's so hard knowing what's false with Jungkook.

Some days, you think it was all ingenuine; that you've never seen the real him.

On others, you tell yourself that the version of Jungkook you'd first met on the bridge was a facade; that you'd worn him down. Seen within.

Most days, though, you believe the version of Jungkook you'd met on that very first night is exactly who he is.

Everything that followed? A carefully crafted performance for an audience of one.

And now it seems like he wants a standing ovation - and who are you to deny such a skilled actor his applause?

Yanking just hard enough to piss him off, you pop open your door and stand beside the car. Applause comes in form of his door slamming shut, and the click of your heels piercing the emptiness in the air as you walk up the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" He shouts after you from his window - but you just hold your middle finger up in his direction and continue onwards. "C?"

You wouldn't tell him even if you knew. All you know is that you selfishly kind of hope he'll call after you again. He does. You smile to yourself, and ignore him.

Cursing to himself in the driver's seat of his car, he revs the engine back up.

There's a sinking feeling in your chest, but you're the one who put it there.

Only have yourself to blame.

You choose not to watch as his car hurtles past you. The sound is soul-destroying enough as it is.

Jungkook takes a moment to consider his choices. The obvious is to let you go - but he's done that once before, and has hated it ever since. He knows chasing after you will only end in him chasing his own tail, but he's been doing that ever since you left, as it is. What difference will it make? At least this way he can say he tried.

He pulls into a side road.

Derelict and dilapidated, it's no place for a car like his - but then again nowhere in this city is. He sticks out like a sore thumb. None of the other Pony's are polished quite so well, no have been lowered like his. None of them rag about in the dark of night, only for him to fix his faux pas in the light of day the following morning. He'll never let it rust. Never let it falter. Never let it down; and in turn, it won't let him down either.

It will always take him exactly where he needs to be - and right now, he thinks it's beside you.

Slamming his door shut far gentler than you had, Jungkook pushes the key into its lock and twists it shut. He doesn't want to use the electric locks today. Feels like the only way to do things right is to go analogue. Old school.

Wishes there was a way he could go back in time with you, too.

His feet splash in the shallow puddles as he trundles back down the alley on foot, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. He's still in his workout gear - a pair of joggers and some beat-up trainers - but doesn't care for keeping up appearances.

He waits as you approach. You notice him immediately, but make no acknowledgement of his presence. Just keep on walking. Even when he begins to walk alongside you, not a single word is spoken. Cars pass by, passengers gazing out of their windows at the strange pair walking side by side yet miles apart.

You wonder if they make assumptions about you like you know would.

If you were to see yourself, you'd guess that you were angry. A couple in the midst of a fight but too far from home to go your separate ways, maybe. The way your arms are crossed definitely suggests ice to the relationship, but of what the relationship is, you don't think you'd be able to tell. Lovers? Friends? Enemies? All of the above?

You wonder if they'll make up a life for you both. Wonder if they'll resolve the argument they must think you're having. Consider that maybe in their mind, you get a happy ending.

Maybe your observers will be just as naive as you once were. A fool with a fragile heart who gave it to a man who didn't know his strength.

Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he just never cared if he were to break it.

Jeon Jungkook; a rebel with a cause, just without care.

Asshole, you think. Wind whips loose stands hair against your face, cold despite the heat of summer that has now arrived. A storm is coming this evening, but you don't plan on being around to see it.

It's a shame. You've been looking forward to it. Hoseok's away. Work retreat to Yeosu. Some sort of training programme. You had anticipated a night alone watching the raindrops sinking down his apartment window.

The idea of going 'home' right now doesn't appeal to you.

Though when you come to think about it, home is standing next to you as you wait at a zebra crossing, waiting on a green light.

When green lights up the sky, you continue forward. Take a left a left when you reach the hospital. Walk seemingly without direction and yet there's only one place this road leads to. Jungkook knows it well. Isn't really sure what you're doing. Thinks you're playing some kind of joke.

And yet he doesn't speak up. Just follows.

The sign of the KTX station lights up the walkway, the rattle of overground trains polluting the silence between you. There are only a few more services for the night, but it means that freight trains are gearing into action, and they're so much louder than the passenger trains.

As much as he might not know what you're doing, you don't know either. Haven't really thought any of this through.

All you know is you just don't want to stop walking with him.

You hate yourself for it. Hate how weak he makes you feel. Hate that he gets to be okay and just live his life after ruining yours. Maybe you're misplacing your blame. Know full well that you've made some bad decisions as of late. Would take them back if you could.

Jungkook is one of those bad decisions you wish you could undo. If only life came with a rewind button. Ctrl+Z. Reboot. Restore to factory settings.

And yet the idea of not knowing him - the sound of his laugh in the early hours of a Sunday morning, the feel of his cheeks a few days post-shave, the pressure of his lips on the crown of your head - fills you with dread. You may hate the memories, but you don't want to lose them, either.

You know Daegu's KTX station well. Hanger left as you enter, straight towards the self-service kiosks. Pick one that accepts card, then rest your palms on the pale blue plastic casing of the machine. There's a touchscreen full of choices - endless opportunities - but Daegu's KTX autofill route is the only one that you care for. The only one that feels right.

Busan.

You tap through to the next menu, ignoring Jungkook's presence beside you. You don't care what he does. Are only thinking about yourself.

Funny, really. He's only thinking about you.

Jungkook knocks your hand to the side to stop you from pressing through to the transaction screen. He reaches over a little further. Presses the small plus sign next to 'passengers'. Says nothing as it jumps from '1' to '2'.

You just watch as he clicks on through to the following screen, and slides his card into the slot that's flashing green at you. There's no conversation. No acknowledgement of what he's done; just acceptance.

The machine spits out the tickets into a metal tray, so you take yours and turn on your heel, leaving him to collect his own. He can follow you if he likes. You won't wait for him.

Realistically, it's not like you'll be apart for long. The assigned seats are side by side.

Of course, you could just leave. Buy a ticket elsewhere. Go home. Head down towards the subway and lose him in a sea of people.

The possibilities are endless.

Yet you find yourself checking the departure screen for train 071, instead.

The menu flickers through the upcoming departures, before finally falling back to the screen 071 is on. Platform two, departing in four minutes.

It's enough time to get to your track, but not enough time to run to your favourite coffee stand. You just sigh. Today is just disappointment after disappointment.

Jungkook walks straight past you. Makes no acknowledgement of you.

Just heads towards the exit for the tracks. Another sigh leaves your lips.

But you find yourself following him.

You're the one orbiting him, now.

And like the planets you're convinced rule your life, it doesn't feel like you can stop any time soon.

Your train is already on the platform by the time you make it down the stairs, quietly purring in its bay. Doing one final check of the platform, the conductor blows his whistle just as you're hopping on.

Heading down the aisle, you're displeased to see the train is only half full, knowing it means your assigned seats will be beside one another - and once you reach carriage four, you can see the top of his head poking out from the row you've been allocated.

It's interesting how he's taken the aisle seat, when his ticket is for the window. Still, questioning it means engaging in conversation, and you're still pretending like he doesn't exist - to the point where you don't ask him to move. You just step over him, and cringe at the way you know your ass brushes the top of his knees from the awkward positioning.

If he were in a better mood, he'd smile, aware of your annoyance and the fact you're probably cursing out your own ass in your head.

But Jungkook is in a foul fucking mood, and all he wants to do is hold your goddamn hand.

He knows can't.

So he won't.

He'll just sit, and stew, and lament the fact he's on a train to fucking Busan with you.

The jokes he knows he would have cracked six months ago are lost, now. There'll be no nonsensical conversations over who would die first in a zombie apocalypse, no dumb declarations from Jungkook about how he'd protect you no matter what.

Would have been a lie, anyway.

In the row ahead of you, a teenage couple share a pair of headphones.

Between the crack in the seats, you can see their heads leaning together, hairs melting into one another. The girl is peroxide blonde, but has dark roots growing through. It's a bit like Jungkook's hair used to be. Her (presumed) boyfriend has a streak of blonde peaking through his dark hair. She no doubt did it for him (again, you presume). The sight of it makes you feel sick.

Jungkook notices it too. Watches as the girl flicks through the boys playlist. Searches up a song he doesn't know, and presses play. When she locks the phone and puts it down on her boyfriends lap, she shuffles closer against him. Jungkook feels a little unwell, too.

The silence continues.

It's only 45 minutes to Busan. Not a long haul by any stretch of the imagination - and yet it feels endless this evening. When the train eventually rolls into his hometown, Jungkook thinks he's going crazy. Hates being alone with his brain. Hates that you hate being alone with him, too.

The hushed nature of your pairing prevails as you make your way onto the subway. Rammed full of late-night punters, you're forced to stand by the entryway. He stands behind you, and holds the bar that's over your head. Doesn't say sorry when the movements of the carriage cause him to lean against you slightly. He pulls away from you as quickly as he can, but you're surprised to find that you miss the weight of his body.

But of course you do. You've been missing it for months, now.

The subway trundles through underground tunnels, metal screeching every so often, more and more passengers departing - until it's just you and him. You take a seat, and so does he. You're opposite one another, eyes unashamed as you stare one another out. There's no trust. You're like cats, stalking their prey.

Or should that be you're like a cat. Jungkook is a lion. Could rip you to shreds if he wants. Has done it before. Your scars are barely healed. Can still feel him all over your skin. It's insidious. Makes you want to take a fucking potato peeler to your body, just to rid yourself of your memories.

The way he looks at you, all dark and brooding, like he's some kind of 90's heartthrob that never stood the test of time, makes your fingerprint-shaped scars burn.

You ride the subway until the very final stop; not because you wanted to, just because you were following his lead.

Stupid, really. He was following yours. Of course he was.

The static voice of the automated alert lets you know you've reached Dadaepo.

Jungkook knows it well. Was his favourite place to explore as a kid. A hidden rocky alcove just beyond the cliff walk was the site of many discoveries as a kid; sea glass, bugs he can't remember the names of, and - in his later years - the scent of marijuana.

The fact you're still giving one another the silent treatment is comically unbelievable. It's been upwards of two hours since his car door slammed shut back in Daegu. Even longer, actually. Closer to three hours.

There's something so childish about how petty you both are - but at least this way, you can't miscommunicate.

You just don't communicate at all, and you think you prefer it that way.

The waves roll in as you sit, staring at nothing. Side by side. Miles apart. It all becomes a bit much for Jungkook. He knows he shouldn't make a sound, but he thinks he likes it better when you fight. At least that way he gets to hear your voice, no matter how scathing it can be.

"The last train back is in half an hour," Jungkook says quietly, unsure of how much time has passed. Dadaepo is fifty minutes away from the station. You'll have missed it, and are fully aware of it.

So you just shrug.

"Not have a fiancé to get home to?" He questions, and almost manages not to sound bitter. Almost.

Again, you shrug.

Hoseok is away for the week - an all-expenses training retreat over in Yeosu.

When your Father had still been in the police force, before moving into local politics, he'd gone on the same training programme. It's a yearly excursion. Just an excuse to get shitfaced with his crew and a chance to slip his wedding ring into his wallet, knowing your mother would never find out.

She'd always know. She was the one who did his laundry, after all.

Unlike your mother, however, you won't spend the week in a foul mood because of it.

That's not to say you won't spend the week in a foul mood - it's just that the reason for your awful mood is currently sitting next to you looking over the East China Sea.

"You should stop concerning yourself with my life," you tell him, voice quiet - but he hears you crystal clear, regardless. He's listening out for only you. Fuck the waves, fuck the dog walkers, fuck the traffic and the coffee shop soundtrack blaring just a few feet behind the woodland. You're the only one he hears.

He considers saying nothing, but just can't help himself - so he scoffs, and says, "shall I stop breathing, too, while I'm at it?"

It's a stupid comparison to make. His life doesn't depend on you. You tell him so.

"You need to breathe to stay alive. You never needed me to stay alive."

Never needed me at all.

"I don't know, C. Kang was pretty pissed when we let you get away," he says as he purses his lips. It's a miracle his nose still looks the same as it always did - unless it just got broken so many times that it somehow snapped back into place.

Thing is, Jungkook's not really thinking about that. The pain subdued. After a few weeks, it was like it never happened.

But the ache in his chest remained. His one source of chronic pain, and you're the one who held the knife. Sure, he's the one who guided your hands. Pulled them into his chest. Inflicted it upon himself.

"Your coworker," Jungkook finally sighs. He's not even sure why he's asking. He doesn't want the answer. "Is it... The ring. Is it him?"

And while you want to hurt Jungkook as much as you possibly can without laying a single finger on him, you know you've done Yoongi enough damage. Makes you sick thinking about his tender face; the way it'd light up around you. You think of Jieun, and the time spent together in the shop and it's so consuming that you can't even think of an appropriate response to Jungkook.

"Yoongi," you correct, but Jungkook already knew his name. Just didn't wanna acknowledge him as more than a meagre colleague. "No. It's not Yoongi."

But just for a night? It had been Yoongi. Or was it two nights? Your head taunts you. You fucked Yoongi. Fucked his life up. Fucked it all. Whatever becomes of you is what you deserve.

Jungkook is unaware of this as he clamps his lips together to stop the smile that's begging to break through his hard exterior.

"You ever..." You begin to mumble, but then realise who you're talking to. You don't want to converse with him. "Nevermind."

He knows this. Doesn't care. "Have I ever what?"

There's a moment of silence; waves lapping against the shoreline in place of your words.

"You ever do something that just destroys you?"

Your words linger like the brief seconds waves will take to kiss the shoreline; white bubbles sinking into sand, murky water retracing its steps and dissolving into the currents.

"Destroys you?" he asks, not because he needs clarification, but because he can't possibly imagine what you've done.

You simply nod.

And so he takes a moment to think. Decides it's about time he gave you some honesty.

"Yeah," he says gently. Can see there's something you're grappling with. Doesn't want to intrude, though. "I've done things that have destroyed me, C. You know I have."

The silence resumes once more. It's louder now.

If you listen closely enough, you can hear that chime in your stomach again. It's faint. You ignore it.

Jungkook can hear it too. It rings and rings like tinnitus. He can't ignore it. He can pretend that he detests it, though.

Moonlight ripples on the surface of the water. It rolls into shore, then pulls away again. Gets just close enough to touch, but not far enough to soak your feet.

It runs away from you as soon as it gets close, and the irony isn't lost on Jungkook. He'd always thought you'd behaved like the moon and her tides, after all. Cyclic. Endless. Eternal.

It sort of feels apt that you'd end up back here.

Yeah, he thinks as he refuses to look in your direction. Too consumed with the way the vast expanse almost looks like a black hole. Just like the tides.

But waves can roll up on any beach, and the moon caresses every inch of the earth during her slumber. There's nothing unique about the pair of you. Nothing special.

Insignificance has always been a fear of his. A life that could be chalked up to birth, then death; records in a library system forgotten about for years upon years. His impact? Null.

He'd seen it with his mother - her vibrancy, her love for life, for others - and how she'd all but been forgotten. Sometimes, he feels like he's the only one who remembers her.

Even his father seems to forget why he's in such a sorry state. His brother has a new family, now. And what does Jungkook have?

No family. That disintegrated. Yeah, they're still around, but they're not present. Not there for him when he needs them.

No career. Sure, he can get work wherever electricity is, but he's under Kang's thumb, now. He trains, and he fights. Time for honest work is non-existent.

No love. He's never been the type to need a relationship, but he'd gotten a little foolish. Gotten used to the comfort of another human. Now that he knows what it feels like - how nice it can be - he feels half alive without it.

The Jungkook beside you is just the same as the Jungkook you first met.

He's a little stronger, a little broader. Is missing a few of his piercings, and wears his hair dark now instead of the blonde you had always adored.

He's exactly the same, and yet forever changed.

He digs his fingers into the sand beside his thighs. The grains slip through the hollow gaps between his knuckles. Even the things within his grasp always seems to get away from him.

He hates the silence. Hates that he never knows what to say anymore.

And thankfully for him, you hate it just as much.

"Fighting a lot, these days, aren't you?" You ask, not that you need any clarification. You saw a note in one of Hoseok's files earlier on in the week. Just a small scrawl about Kang's, and the illegal gambling ring he's running. JJK had been written down, with a set of odds next to his name. Pretty good odds. Baby is a champion. You'd be proud, if the circumstances weren't so harrowing.

"Not any more so than usual," he lies, shutting down the conversation as soon as you start it. He just can't help himself. It's like he's hard-wired to fight.

You turn to look in his direction and are momentarily caught by how ethereal he looks when basking in silver moonlight. The tip of his nose looks cold, and yet his eyes are warm. Watery. Welcoming you to dive right in.

Sink, or swim?

He's got a bruise on the top of his cheekbone, and a small graze just in front of his ear. It's clear to see that he's been through the wringer recently. There's really no point in lying to you.

"No?" You ask, just to let him know you're aware he's full of shit.

"What does it matter if I am?"

"It doesn't."

And so silence settles again. Neither of you know how to interact with one another anymore. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you both hate it - and yet there's nowhere either of you would rather be. No one else you'd rather be in discomfort with.

Time gets away from you. It chases through the night, just like his car used to do down the backroads of Daegu, with you in the passenger seat and your hand beneath his on the gear stick.

You wonder if he ever thinks of it; if he ever thinks of you in the same way you think of him.

You don't ask him, because no matter what the answer will be, you'll convince yourself it's a lie.

Midnight creeps in, and so does the chill of night air. It may be summer, but the sea breeze can be biting at times.

Jungkook's fine - his workout gear is keeping the heat in well, but you're underdressed. Huddled up and clearly not enjoying yourself but refusing to voice discomfort, Jungkook is the one who forces you up. Says it's stupid to still be out by the water. Tells you that there will be loads of bugs about, soon.

You both know that the bugs have been out since dusk. Leaving now makes no difference.

Ignoring the hand he holds out as you get to your feet, you rid your legs of sand, and head towards the pathway through the small wooded area.

Neither of you have any idea what to do. The keys in Jungkook's pockets are rendered useless, his car still down in a back alley of Daegu, and the buses have stopped running. Subway, too.

You've no bag with you, just your phone (that's dangerously low on charge) and a card tucked into the back of the case.

Jungkook's phone is new. Holds it's charge well. He's not worried about it.

He's got his wallet, too, so at least he's a little bit more foreign-city-ready than you'd been upon your decision to run off to Busan. He's glad he came with you, now.

He figures he'll just stay at his Dad's place - but it means getting a taxi, and he really can't be fucked with an hour's drive this late at night.

He's unaware that the card in the back of your phone isn't yours. It's under Hoseok's name. He gets a notification every time it's used. It's why you're so selective about how you spend your money.

You've no ID with you, either. Left it in your purse back in Hoseok's apartment. Hadn't really expected to end up in Busan, in all honestly.

Especially not with Jungkook.

If you wanna check in to a hotel - which is the only option, really - you're gonna need your ID. Standard policy around these parts. No ID, no room.

You tell Jungkook this.

He sighs. Grates his jaw a little.

"And you didn't think that maybe it would be smart to take your ID out with you? What if you'd gotten in an accident, huh? No one would have known who to call, 'cause they wouldn't know who you are."

"I was hardly gonna get in an acci-"

"How do you know?" He cuts you off. "You can't plan these kinds of things, CC. Accidents just happen."

"Is that what this is, then?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest as you walk a little further away from him up the sandy sidewalk. "Another calamity of yours? Just ended up here accidentally?"

Sometimes, he considers kissing you just to stop your from spouting off at him over nonsensical issues.

Jungkook thinks it's obvious he ended up in Busan for one reason, and one reason alone:

He'll follow you to the end of the earth, if it means he gets to be with you.

He's hardly gonna tell you that, though, is he?

"Ended up here cause I missed the beach-" And I missed you, too. "- but it's late," Jungkook says as you meander back up the sidewalk without much aim, and nods across the road to a beachfront hotel. "Let's just crash here and figure out how to get home in the morning?"

For reasons you can't understand, you find yourself agreeing. When you explain that you can't use your card, he shrugs. Says he'll cover it. Says he doesn't care.

It's a different story when you're in the hotel.

The presence of the concierge makes you feel unsure of yourself. Reminds you of how embarrassed you are by what Jungkook did to you; how foolish you had felt. You feel the need to defend yourself.

"Do you have any suites available?" You ask the concierge with a smile so sweet it could rot his inside. He thinks you're sweet. Thinks Jungkook should smile more. Knows he'd be smiling if he had you alone in a hotel room.

"All booked out, I'm afraid," the concierge says as he checks the screen in front of him. The glare reflects in his glasses, and you wonder how many times he's been caught out looking at things he shouldn't. Not just at work, but in general. He seems like a sweet kid - but a kid nonetheless.

"What's the most expensive room you have available, then?" You query instead.

Jungkook shakes his head. Looks at his feet. Tenses his jaw. Thinks you're fucking unbelievable.

You know he's got money problems. Know he's fending off sharks from his poor Father's back. Know that the only reason he fucked you over was to finally have a decent payday.

And yet you choose to do this? Knowing he won't kick up a fuss in public?

Spineless bitch. Spiteful.

But, oh, how you love to hit him where it hurts.

The concierge is none the wiser of Jungkook's discomfort. Tells you both that there's a deluxe sea-view room left.

"It's gone midnight, so I can give you a discounted rate," he says, and still quotes a price that would make even a black card owner raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook looks at you. Holds your gaze. Passes over his card. Waits till the concierge is retrieving your keys to hiss, "you're the most expensive mistake I've ever made."

You just smile. "Shouldn't live life with regrets. They give you wrinkles."

"And stress gives you grey hair," he counters, insinuating that you've got some growing through. The concierge returns to his position behind the desk, so Jungkook plays his role up. "You been stressed lately, baby?"

The concierge coughs. Holds out your key. "Seventh floor. Follow the corridor from the elevator right to the end, and you'll find room number one." Jungkook takes the key with a polite nod. "If you need anything else, the front desk is open twenty-four hours. I do hope you enjoy your stay."

The tension between you and Jungkook is palpable. The little routine you've cooked up in which neither of you speak unless it's to bait each other out continues. Doesn't end until you're in the room - and what a fucking room it is.

Crisp white sheets on a bed that is far too big; a bathtub in the corner of the room instead of the bathroom. Huge windows that let the midnight view of the ocean pour in, and chiffon curtains that will keep you hidden from the outside world. You won't close the blinds. Will want the morning sunlight to bathe you in its glory; make you feel like you belong to the days instead of the nights.

So much of your relationship with Jungkook was hidden in the shadows of Daegu nights, but it had been different in Busan. It's hard to pretend as if you don't miss it.

Hard, but not impossible.

You toss him a pillow and the stiff cotton throw from the end of the bed. "Here. The bathtub looks cosy. Sweet dreams."

"I'm not sleeping in the fucking bath," he laughs, but it's full of scorn. He finds no humour in this situation. "If I pay for a hotel room, I'm sleeping in the bed. Bath is all yours."

And yet you stay put.

When Jungkook turns off the main light? You stay put.

When he grasps the back of his sweater and pulls it over his head? You stay put.

When he says, 'No? Not fancy the bath?' as he tosses the pillow you had thrown at him back onto the empty side of the bed? You stay put.

When he walks around to that side? When he pushes the duvet back? When his weight dents the mattress? The scent of his aftershave intrudes on your senses? The sound of his bare skin nestling into the sheets is all you can hear? When he turns his back to you? Turns off the bedside lamp?

You stay fucking put.

And you know you shouldn't, and know that this is all kinds of wrong, but my god, it's all you've wanted for months: the past. All that's missing is your arm looped over his waist.

When he turns to face you? Looks at you, eyes all glassy, lips pursed? Tries to get a read on you?

You don't move a muscle. Just look at him right back. Wonder how he can still look so beautiful in such darkness. Wonder if his hair always spilt onto the pillow as it does now, and you'd just never realised when he was blonde.

And then you wonder if maybe someone else had been in this position with him during your absence.

It would be okay if they have. Wouldn't be their fault. Wouldn't be his, either. You're the one who left. Have a ring around your finger, now, no matter how loosely. Would be incredibly unfair to expect Jungkook to spend the last few months alone.

But the more you think about it, the more you get caught up in your own head, and how he'd kissed you beneath his shower, skin coated in red dye. Has you thinking about the way he'd always kiss you as he came, and the 'forever's he'd whispered in the dark of night.

So fucking cruel of him. He always knew that forever wasn't an option. There was no reason he had to pretend there was.

And maybe you're just tired, or maybe you've just been keeping it all bottled up for so long that the pressure had finally reached full capacity, but you just can't help yourself as you say, "why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

Your brows furrow. Lips pout. You know what's coming and you can't even be bothered to stop the tears. Maybe he should know how badly he affected you. Maybe it's the only way he'll understand. Maybe then he'll care.

For now, you can't bring yourself to think too hard. You just let the tears fall.

"C'mon, C," Jungkook whispers as his thumb strokes over your cheek. His hands are a little rough. He's been working on his car a lot lately, and hasn't taken time to look after himself, instead. It's self-sabotage. Thinks he doesn't deserve to feel good. Physically, mentally, whatever. "This isn't you."

Oh, it's laughable. Hilarious, you think, that he seems to think he knows who the fuck you are. You wanna scream. Wanna tell him that he knows fuck all. Tell him that you never let him see even an ounce of what makes you 'you'.

Denial is a strange thing. Has you lying to yourself like it's a bible oath. Jeon Jungkook knows exactly who you are. You just wish that he didn't.

"You've no idea who I am," you whisper back through partially gritted teeth, that are stopping your sobs from leaking through.

Jungkook purses his lips together. Shakes his head. Strokes away another tear. Is almost silent when manages to croak out, "I wish that were true."

And you might be wrong, but it sounds like he's holding back a tear or two, as well.

You reach over to toy with the key around his neck. It's warm in your fingers, the heat of his skin keeping it cosy. It's amazing how warm he always is, you think. Never met anyone like it. When your eyes flick up to his, ever so briefly, you notice that they seem warm, too. Just a byproduct of his body temperature, you decide.

"Why coke?" You whisper as you bring the key to your lips. Press it against them, just to feel the pressure of something that belongs to him.

He'd kiss you now, if you asked him to.

But you won't, so he doesn't.

He just shrugs instead.

"Why do we do anything of the things we do, C?" He pauses, but doesn't anticipate a response from you. Just continues, instead. "To feel alive? To feel closer to death? I don't know."

Lost one drug, he thinks to himself. It's just a replacement.

And it's funny, because aside from the lines he'd snorted on the first night you'd returned just to fucking cope with it all, he's not touched it. Thinks if he could just touch you, he'd never go near coke again.

You hold the key to his lips, now. Wait for him to press his lips against it. He does so, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Funny. Seems the key works on something, after all.

When you pull the key away, you let the chain hang slack, before dropping it to his chest. The ridges of the metal are sharp against his skin, but he's numb to it. Can only feel the print of your fingertips and the scars that are embedded into his skin from them.

"You should stop," you whisper, stroking down the bridge of his nose with the side of your index finger. His eyes close. Jaw tenses. He inhales. "It'll ruin this pretty nose of yours."

And then he smiles; eyes still closed, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.

But the tepid movement of your finger doesn't stop. It reaches the tip of his nose. Trails down his septum. Encroaches on his cupid bow - and then it comes to rest on his lips.

Just like the key, he presses against it. Kisses the side of your finger. Keeps his eyes closed. Lets it linger.

He hears the change in your breathing. How you inhale a little sharper than before. How it sounds painful.

Doesn't wanna open his eyes. Doesn't want to look at you, knowing that you'll probably look so tragically hurt that it would be captivating, in a way. He'd wanna kiss it all better, but knows better than to attempt such a thing.

"I don't think I can, C," he eventually says. Opens his eyes. Is devastated by your beauty. "Don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

You both know he isn't talking about coke.

"Then it'll ruin you," you whisper, pretending as if you still are.

He just nods. "So let it."

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #throttle #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook

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b00kdiary · 2 months

Text

A Ballad of Flame & Shadow | Azriel

Chapter Five Snippet:

"You seem awfully certain you could have killed us both," I teased and Nesta peered over her shoulder at me. Silver flames in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. "A little arrogant, don't you think? Especially considering you have no idea what Bryce and I can do."

Bryce chuckled, her starlight expanding when we entered a larger chamber. But Azriel's body went stiff, his wings erecting behind him, so large I felt the cold wind hit my back at the sudden move.

"Relax, handsome," I smiled sidelong at him, seeing his eyes flash to mine at the mocking pet name. "I was just joking. You do know what jokes are?"

"Yes, Alexis, I am familiar with the concept," He drawled, and the sound of my name on his tongue, the flicker of that deep accent made my stomach twist. He smirked, nodding ahead, "That's not something I'd consider to be all that amusing though- wouldn't you agree?"

I furrowed my brow, turning – to where a huge skeletal carcass lay ahead.

No, not amusing at all.

"Pretty, hunky and handsome," Azriel mused quietly. His chest pressed against my back, and his lips whispered at the shell of my ear. I shivered, the breath expelling from my lungs. "Glad to know I'm appreciated, sweetheart."

I huffed out a laugh, stunned, as Azriel brushed past my shoulder, powerful form moving with an almost swaggering gait to where Bryce and Nesta stood staring at those bones. I narrowed my eyes at him, wings tucked in, shadows wreathing him, and back muscles rippling.

"Prick," I muttered.

I swear I heard a whisper of a laugh escape him, echoing through the dark tendrils resting at my neck.

LITTLE SNIPPET OF CHAPTER FIVE, POSTED ON WATTPAD AND AO3 (linked)

Comment to be added to a tag list for more updates and sneak peeks like this!

@hellodarling1357 @charlineraven @starrystarkey93 @mockingjaytributes @nelapeach14 @alessiazeni @bishhh2003 @impossibelle @firebreathingbishqueen @lovely-susie @sarawritestories @hellowinterlane @minnieoo @charlineraven @acotarfics-mharmie009 @ithan-holstroms-girl @bionic-donut @blackgirlmagicforever @azzydaddy @shinyghosteclipse @shinyghosteclipse @pinkcowracing @marvelouslovely-barnes @mysticalfuncollectorus @daughterofthemoons-stuff

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joanquill · 1 year

Text

Marriage proposal

I'm going to go with Will cuz that man is quite mischievous. I want a situation where they caught the reader off guard by embarrassing them infront of everyone about this. You choose either the town? school? or in the middle of a mission love yah Full fluff mix with crack ehhehe imagine Sherlock's face

William James Moriarty

Tag/s: Crack-ish, Fluff, Established Relationship

"Oh?" you mused, seeing a familiar consulting detective wandering around the halls of Durham University.

You lightly laughed as you followed him, blending yourself with the crowd of students to remain undetected.

"Excuse me," you tapped his shoulder, making him jolt and quickly turn to you.

"(Y/N)!" he sighed, making you lightly laugh.

"Looking for someone?" you questioned, an amused smile on your face as he smirked.

"Who do you think? I was promised dinner,"

"By the way," Sherlock mused, following you through the halls.

"I didn't peg you to be a fellow professor,"

"Because I'm not," you clarified, showing him the basket you were carrying, "I'm just on an errand. William forgot his lunch... again," you sighed, remembering the crowd of students questioning your relationship with their mathematics professor.

"Really?" Sherlock raised a brow, "A man with his intellect forgetting his lunch?"

"It baffles me as well," you chuckled, knowing questioning William would only lead you to more confusing answers.

"Besides," you turned to your heel, facing Sherlock, "We're already here," you smiled, peeking through the window.

There were only the students inside, with no sign of William.

"Ah-! Right... They have exams..." you muttered, forgetting William's reminder.

"Then, let's go in," Sherlock smiled, putting his arm around your shoulder as you entered the classroom.

"Wha- Sherlock!?" you whispered loudly as you and he sat at the back.

"I don't think this is allowed!" you reminded, not wanting to get in trouble.

"Relax," he reassured, pulling two pens from under the desk.

"Proctors rarely check on the students, and the students themselves are busy reviewing..." Sherlock snuck his hand around the tables, pulling out two pens,

"And they always have extra copies of the exams," he reassured you as he gave you one, but you were still unsure.

"Besides," he grinned, pulling you closer.

"Don't you want to see Will's reaction?" your eyes widened at the idea, making you smile.

"All right then,"

Some students were able to recognize you, but you managed to convince them to keep it a secret to prank their professor.

The proctor also didn't seem to see you from the sea of students, seeing as he dozed off, letting you and Sherlock take the test along with the others.

From the front page, you already knew you were going to fail.

And judging by the student's reactions, it seemed you weren't the only one.

But despite that, you tried to answer the ones you remembered William taught you and doodled for the rest of the time.

"How did you do?" Sherlock asked as you as the students crowded William, complaining over the exam's difficulty.

"I'm not sure... But I hope my drawing of a cat would at least give me five points," you snickered, showing him your doodles.

"Ah, let's go," Sherlock whispered, seeing the students disperse as William compiled the exams.

You both kept quiet as you walked down, William's back facing you as he arranged the papers.

"Sensei~," Sherlock called out, making William turn around in surprise.

"Good morning, sensei~," you copied Sherlock's tone with a smile, satisfied with his reaction as Sherlock wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Did we pass your test?" Sherlock taunted, an unamused look on William's face.

You noticed some students were taking their time packing their bags, or better yet, some were still hovering around the door.

"I assume you will be joining us for lunch?" William questioned, swiftly pulling you to his side.

"I was promised dinner," he reminded with a grin, "And I feel like I'm going witness something interesting..." he added, his eyes trailing to William's pocket.

"Well, I know when I'm not wanted," you chuckled, stepping back from the two men.

"You two enjoy your date," you teased, making everyone around you freeze as William softly rolled his eyes.

"Afraid that would not be possible," he smiled, grabbing your hand and lifting it to his lips.

"I couldn't possibly ask for your hand in marriage when you're not around, now can I?" he winked, pulling you to his side as you walked out of the classroom and Sherlock close behind, making the students shout in shock and excitement.

You, on the other hand, followed William in complete shock while Sherlock was close behind you both, stifling his laughter.

"...Huh?" you asked William, who only smiled at you.

You looked back to Sherlock, who laughed loudly in response.

"I wasn't expecting you to propose like that, Liam,"

"Well, I highly doubt (Y/N) would consider it a real proposal. Let alone think it actually happened," the two men continued to converse.

You only followed along, your brain barely comprehending what happened in the classroom and not hearing their conversation.

"Then, how about lunch? Since you'll be spending dinner preparing for your actual proposal,"

"I don't remember agreeing to that,"

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #valentines #william moriarty x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty #jq valentines event

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oleander-nin · 10 months

Text

The Weight of a Letter(5)

A/N: It's a bit stupid, but it's done. Sorry for the gross writing, I'm just tired and had to write this in advance so I didn't have to worry over my trip. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

Taglist? If you want to be added or removed, just say so: @ssak-i @sinister-things @ancreativename @t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d @idiotreblogger @whygz

Part 1 - Previous - Next

Words: 3387

Content warnings: Stalking, Paranoia, dark themes, breaking and entering, throwing up

Chapter 5: A Silent Act

I shovel the school made mac n’ cheese into my mouth, watching the other kids in the cafeteria move by. Scanning the crowd as I try my best to not spit up my food, I tap on the envelope sitting in my lap. It was another letter from the mysterious ‘Othello Von Ryan’, having survived its journey into my locker once more. I huff, chewing on my cheek and I poke at my food with my spork. The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense.

I had gotten five letters so far, each one accompanied with flowers, and up until now, a box of chocolates. My eyes drift to the pink flower I had set on the table, my hand moving to softly touch its petals. Out of everything given, I liked the flowers the most. The red tulip, a red carnation, a small bundle of baby’s breath, a gardenia, and now, a pink flower, layered in petals.

I twist a petal of the light pink flower in between two fingers, admiring its full bloom. It was gorgeous, and completely undamaged. I couldn’t help but admire its beauty. But how had it made its way into my locker, completely unharmed? Me and Irma had been trying to solve this mystery since the first letter arrived, but we were nowhere near figuring it out.

I look up when I feel the table shift, Irma taking her spot across from me. I marveled at her uncanny ability to appear as soon as I started thinking of her. Irma smiles at me, pushing her lunch tray away. I don’t blame her, I was already regretting eating the provided food. I pass her my apple, Irma taking it gleefully as she eyes the flower. Taking a bite, she chews for a bit while tapping her finger next to the petals.

“Huh, no chocolates this time. Is that the new one?” I nod at Irma’s words, pulling out the letter and offering it out to her. Irma takes the envelope, opening it carefully. Her pointer finger and thumb rest on the paper, not pulling it out yet. “It was still sealed, (Y/n). Did you not read it yet?”

“I wanted to wait for you.” I shove another spoonful of my mac ‘n cheese into my mouth, trying to gag on the mush as I wait for Irma to pull out the letter and read it. In all honesty, I was starting to hate the letters. It was all too much as of late, and me and Irma were nowhere near figuring out who was sending them. My eyes glance around the cafeteria, on the lookout for shadows. They were getting more and more frequent, closer and less concealed. I hated it, hated the way I was barely able to live without the fear of some stupid figure my imagination made up. Hated the way my pulse spiked at every little thing crossing my vision.

Irma’s eyes rake over my face, taking in the details she had probably memorized by this point. I take another bite of my food and dust off my hands to the side, Irma clearing her throat before starting to read the letter out loud.

“Dear (Y/n),” She starts in a dramatized voice. I snort, shaking my head as I grin. She puts on a fake accent, eyeing me with a small smile. Every letter started with the same normal opening before diving into sappy madness as the writer described their love. Irma tried to make the letter seem as regal as possible, reading them becoming one of her favorite things. “You’ve continued to breach my thoughts even though we have barely talked. Everything I create I now do in your name. In my brother’s words, you’ve become my muse.”

Irma pauses for a moment, taking another bite of her apple. She quickly chews before swallowing, continuing her theatrical telling of the letter. “You’re breathtaking, completely astonishing. You complete me, and I am truly the only thing you need.” Irma grimaces a bit at that statement, fake gagging to make me laugh before continuing on. “I promise I will reveal myself soon, seeing as I don’t think I can go without you much longer.”

“Ooo,” I say, tapping the table. “Looks like they might just tell us instead of us having to play the detective.”

Irma rolls her eyes, hushing me. I pretend to zip my lips shut, earning a snicker from my friend. “I cannot wait until you're mine, until we are together. Nothing will come between us, that I promise you. These letters are not enough to suffice my need to be by your side, to love and care for you as you deserve. I will be the best thing that ever happened to you. Until the time comes, forever yours, Othello Von Ryan.”

Irma sets the letter down, sliding it over to me. I pick it up and scan the writing, shaking my head in disbelief. “Well, we know one thing for certain. The writer sure thinks highly of himself.”

Irma tries to stop her grin from forming, her hand moving over her mouth to muffle her laugh. She reaches over and picks up the flower twirling it in between her fingers. “Have you checked to see what it is yet?”

I shake my head, looking at the flower in her hands. It really was beautiful, as were all the flowers I had been gifted. “You have the app. I don’t.”

Irma sighs dramatically as she pulls out her phone, taking a picture of the flower and uploading it to one of her plant identification apps. Considering neither of us knew much about plants, Irma came up with the idea of checking what plant it was through an app in case they were poisonous or rash inducing. Which would be a great idea if I hadn’t completely manhandled each flower before we checked. Irma glances up at me, showing me her phone screen. “It’s a camellia, one of the pink variety, as you can obviously see.”

I nod, taking the flower back as Irma continues to eat her lunch. I admire the flowers' delicate beauty, its soft pink petals layered atop one another make the flower full. This flower, like all the others, had not been damaged when it was put into my locker. I didn’t know how I felt about this. Sure, the letters were sweet, the flowers romantic, and the previous chocolates delicious, but did all that really make the fact someone might be breaking into my locker null and void? I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking about it. I didn’t want the letters or flowers to stop, that was for sure. Receiving these gifts made me feel special, like I mattered. As selfish as that was, I didn’t want to give it up.

The chatter of the teenagers around me reverberates in my head, my eyes scanning the room. Any one of these people could be the writer, I just had to figure out who. I hoped it wasn’t some mean trick, some prank to fool me into loving someone. I just wanted to matter to someone. Having a special someone in light of all my trouble sounded great. Irma grabs my hand, bringing me back into the now, the sound around me quieting down once more. She taps my knuckles with her thumb, her brown eyes staring deep into my own. I feel slight guilt for my thoughts at her stare. Even if the letters weren’t real, Irma was. She was my friend, she cared. I knew I would never lose her.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” She asks softly, letting go of my hand now that she pulled me back out of the clouds. I rub the heel of my hand against my eyes, frowning slightly. I didn’t want to have to bother Irma with this, she already helped me with so much. It felt like I was just taking and never giving her anything in return.

“Just… worried about the letters, I guess.” I admit. I lean into my arms, hoping Irma wouldn’t press. To my relief, she doesn’t. Irma pats my arm, a hopeful grin on her face.

“Yeah, I’ve been worried as well. We can mess around with your locker before leaving school, okay?”

“We’ve been messing with it.” I point out.

“Well maybe we missed something. Plus, if it doesn’t work, we can just go to the front office and ask for a new locker.” Irma says, picking up both of our trays and going to throw them away. I stand up, glancing at the clock. We had one minute before lunch ended. I nod, conceding.

“Sure. One more time.”

—

Irma punched my locker now that the halls were desolate, the sound of Irma’s fist colliding with the steel echoing through the halls.

“Careful tiger, you might just bust it open.” A dopey grin stretches across my face, Irma turning to me in annoyance.

“I just. I don’t get how someone could get in! Try opening it again, maybe there’s a mechanic in the lock you can exploit.” Irma throws her hands the air, a strangled noise sounding from her throat. Her neck was flushed red, frustration shining through her usual relaxed demeanor. It was hard for her to not understand something, especially when it came to matters like this. I was glad Irma wasn’t the one getting the letters. She’d interrogate the entire school trying to find them.

I push off from the wall I was leaning against, standing in front of my locker and putting in the code. I pull up the lock’s trigger and yank, groaning when nothing happens. I yank on the grip in frustration, wanting to kick the darn thing myself. I move to put in the code again, but I get startled by a loud gasp from behind me. I whip my head around to look at Irma, her eyes trained on the top corner of my locker. The basketball star moves in between me and the metal, her fingers gripping the top corner and pulling. It comes loose, the metal bending until the lock catches it.

My mouth gapes at the sight. The locker opened enough to fit someone’s hand through before the metal refused to bend. Irma let the locker snap back into place, looking at me proudly. “We found the exploit!”

I straighten up a bit at her proud announcement, shaking my head as I grin. Irma claps her hands, her face morphing into a scary grin. “Oh ho ho, we can so use this to our advantage.”

I look at Irma, confused. What did that even mean, was she planning on hurting the writer? “What?”

Irma picks up both of our bags that were on the ground, dragging me towards the exit. I stumble a bit before regaining my balance. I toddle alongside her, Irma starting to ramble on about her idea.

“We now know how they get into your locker, which means we can totally set a trap! They most likely stick their hand into the opening to set everything down, so if we put a bag of colored stain there, their hand will get stained! We can literally catch them red handed!” Irma grins widely, letting go of my hand to rub hers together. “Oh, this will be so fun.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. I didn’t mind not knowing yet. Sure, some of the letters had been a bit… Odd, but none had been too dangerous so far. The person writing them was probably just awkward.

“Are we sure we want to do that? It feels… Mean.” I say, rubbing my arm awkwardly. It rubbed me the wrong way to do something like that, especially since they had been mostly sweet thus far. Irma huffs, sticking out her tongue at me.

“You never let me have any fun.”

I lightly shove her to the side, blowing air from my nose. “Oh you do not get to say that. Who’s the one who banned me from playing hide and seek in the apartments when we were seven?”

“You completely totaled poor Ms. Fitzgerald’s plants! And I only made the rule of no going into the halls!” Irma laughs, shoving me back. I chuckle to myself, a wide grin on my face. Everything was perfect right now, I never wanted this to end. If I could stop time, it’d be right now. Just us laughing, reminiscing on our old games. We exit the school and head to our shared complex, joking on the way. I absentmindedly scan the rooftops, humming softly as I look for the ever-present shadows.

I feel my stomach drop when I see the familiar figure on the rooftop across the road, leaning against an AC unit. It was half shrouded in the shadows, produced by the building to its right. I stop in my tracks, staring at it. I couldn’t move, my blood running cold. A flash of purple was seen before it backed away, my eyes glued to the spot it stood.

“(Y/n)?” Irma’s voice snaps me out of it as I whip my head around to face her. I try to school my face back into my usual smile, but Irma doesn’t buy it. Her face pinches in worry, her eyes shining in sympathy. My throat closes slightly as I look at her, my heart aching. She didn't deserve this, she shouldn’t have to worry. My eyes flick back to the spot I saw the figure. I chew on my lip, conflicted. How much should I tell her?

“Just saw something.” I mumble, moving to continue walking. I don’t elaborate, and Irma doesn’t push, knowing what I was referencing already. I shrink slightly, frowning. I was tired of having everything wrong with me. Irma moves her hand to my shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly and I let out a small sigh. It would all be fine, Irma was here with me. Nothing would happen while we were together.

We walk side by side the rest of the way, neither of us speaking much. I keep my eyes off the rooftops, not wanting to possibly see the figure again. When we enter the complex, the building is silent. Irma lets out a loud groan before yanking me towards the stairs when we see the ‘Out of Order’ sign on the elevator. Irma passes me my bag as we start up the stairs together. I glance at Irma, shifting my bag onto my shoulder. The building seemed much emptier, dead. I wondered if Irma noticed it too.

Irma sees my discomfort and grabs my hand, holding it as we walk up. Our footsteps echo, bouncing off the concrete walls. I flinch slightly when I hear another pair of footsteps in the stairwell, Irma squeezing my hand again.

“Calm down, it’s okay.” Her voice was low and she was mumbling, her eyes looking straight ahead. I dart my eyes across the narrow walkway, my hand moving to grip the rail. Irma squeezes my hand again, rubbing at the knuckle. “You don’t need to be so jumpy, it’s all going to be okay.”

I nod, rubbing my free palm on my shorts. My hands were clammy, my hair on end. I harshly exhale through my nose, closing my eyes. Irma was right, everything would be fine. The shadows were outside, far away from me. They couldn’t get me in here, I was safe. Nothing could touch me. My eyes flicker back and forth between the stairs and the entranceway to Irma’s floor, our feet lightly thudding across the carpeted hall. I pat my hands on my thighs, shifting awkwardly. Irma opens her door and steps inside, waving to me before closing her door.

I stand there for a moment more, barely breathing. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the way my body is shaking. I pull at my shirt as I walk back to the stairwell. I just had to walk up two more flights, and then I was safe. It was okay. Everything would be okay. Nothing can hurt me. My eyes drift to the cameras, trying to memorize where they sit. There was one at every platform, but none on the actual stairs. I speed up, running up the stairs. I would be safe if I could just get to my room.

I run up one flight, then two, bolting to my apartment door. I slide my backpack over in front of me, my eyes darting back and forth between the ends of the hallway and my bag as I look for my keys. My heart pounds in my ears, my hands shake and my body tenses as I search. Where were my keys? Why couldn’t I find them? I open more pouches in my bag, dumping things to the floor as I look. I almost cry in relief when the cool metal of my keys hits my hand, picking them up and jamming them into the door.

I open the door and shove my dropped objects inside with my foot, locking the door behind me once I close it. I let my bag drop to the ground as I breath out in relief, my brain buzzing loudly. I spin around and lean backwards, sliding to the floor. I was okay. It was okay. Irma made it to her apartment, and I made it to mine. I was safe.

I lean my head back against the door, my eyes shining with panicked tears that never shed. I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest, warning me of a danger that was never there. I couldn’t help but feel stupid at my actions. I shake my head, pushing off the door and grabbing my backpack by one of the straps. I start to drag it to my room, feeling too overwhelmed to pick it up. I push open my door, shoving my backpack next to my desk. I lift my arms over my head, popping my back. It was over. I was okay.

I continue to repeat this to myself as I run my fingers through my hair, letting myself calm down a bit. I turn to my bed, feeling exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to collapse onto my mattress and sleep. My eyes land on the disheveled covers, my heart stopping. I know I made my bed this morning. I stand there, staring at my bed.

Did someone break in? Was I in danger? What if they’re still here, I need to run, I need to-

No. No, I’m not doing this.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to relax my trembling body as I exhale. Everything was fine. I just… Misremembered. Yeah, that’s it. I must have made my bed yesterday, not today. I nod my head, ignoring the way my desk looks as if it had been rifled through, how the flowers that should be dead in my vase seemed fresh. I dig through my backpack for the camellia, humming to myself in desperation to convince myself everything would be just fine. Nothing was wrong, I was just stressed. My school work was getting to me, and I was just being overworked. Everything was normal.

I set the crushed flower in the vase, not looking at the other flowers. To admit they were new was to admit something was wrong. Nothing was wrong. I turn back to my bed and flop down, staring at the ceiling. The fan thrummed above me, its white blades a blur from its movement. I turn to face the window, scanning the skyline of the apartments across the road. My eyes travel to a small piece of fabric fluttering on my window, stuck between the frame and the glass. I slowly get up, inching towards the material. Did I open my window and get a jacket caught? I pick up the black wrapping stuck to my window, it’s fabric rough and the tear jagged. It looked like wrappings someone would use for fighting, something I very much did not own. Someone had been here. I run to the bathroom, my stomach heaving as I spill my lunch into the toilet.

Everything was not okay.

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