#a year later; everyone's already read it. and i change a few things.
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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)
hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤
a- angst s- smut f-fluff
series
dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a
↬ DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.
block party by @minlucent f s a
↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l
a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg
↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it?
lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a
↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l
secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a
↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au
i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a
↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he���s in love too—just not with you.
fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth
↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller
pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s
↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l
animal by @cutaepatootie f s a
↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST
things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a
↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.
entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth
↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.
when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a
↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?
new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a
↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?
horizon by @/sokooks f s a
↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au
searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a
↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.
twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a
↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.
when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a
↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on
better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a
↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him
our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7
↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au
dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a
↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au
together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm
↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au
hot bot by @/httpjeon f s
↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.
stardust by @iamtaekooked f
↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his
serendipity by @rohobi f s a
↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.
chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a
↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.
I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a
↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au
sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a
↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.
three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin
↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au
sleepwalking by @taexual f s a
↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a
↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury.
OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.
as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a
↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”
hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a
↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a
↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.
J’aime by @baepop f s a
↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.
Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth
↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend
make me forget by @roseannekook f s a
↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.
one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm
↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song
boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a
↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc
the boy who left by @/gujoonim a
↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au
love sewn by @jvnghxope s a
↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.
not yet by f s @bratkook f s a
↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.
one shot
blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a
↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au
southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a
↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.
house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a
↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.
enouement by @littlemisskookie s a
↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au
miss taken by @junghelioseok f s
↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l
the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a
↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.
the proposal by @hansolmates f s a
↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l
red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s
↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money.
burning bright by @snackhobi s
↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim
but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a
↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.
the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj
↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need.
illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a
↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.
the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a
↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au
rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a
↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.
lowkey by @joonbird s
↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.
part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a
↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.
sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a
↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'
i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj
↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man.
white lies by @noteguk f s a
↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you.
yes coach by @/taleanewastime s
↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.
spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s
↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.
fifth wish by @jiminrings f a
↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.
blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth
↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.
↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library
#kiki!fic!rec#moon's recs#jungkook#jungkook:oneshot#jungkook:series#jungkook:smut#jungkook:angst#jungkook:fluff#favourites!jjk#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic recs#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook series#moonchild1#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook
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Part Two / Part Three
Ao3
It's 8:45 am.
The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.
It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?
No one was complaining.
They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves.
It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.
He doesn't mind it.
Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.
This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.
Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.
(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise.
The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)
As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.
It was a nice little system that worked for them.
A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.
This was not unusual.
Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face.
What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand.
The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.
Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him.
(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.)
"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it.
"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.
Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.
'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'
Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him.
"Mind if I have a word outside?"
Dammit Eddie.
"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely.
There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once.
"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. "
"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy.
Wayne stared up at him.
"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.
"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in."
If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.
It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.
They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass.
Hopper really did let the kid off easy.
Wayne really did owe him.
So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them.
"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context.
Wayne hummed to show he’d heard.
“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.”
A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn.
“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.”
A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut.
"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?"
The Chief chewed on his split lip.
"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town."
Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble.
The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction.
How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird.
Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have.
Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab.
The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters.
This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around.
The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion.
(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)
"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it."
"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed.
"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.”
This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going.
Hopper took a breath. Than another.
A third.
It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life.
"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.
Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions.
“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.”
Wayne sucked in a breath.
"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.
It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy.
Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t.
Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.
He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there.
(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.)
“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.”
His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest.
“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.
“A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.”
Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie.
“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.”
“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished.
“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.”
'Ain’t that the damn truth.'
“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind.
This one, he figured, was the most important.
“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.”
Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one.
It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.
Except, apparently, Steve Harrington.
“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.
If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.
No point in it.
“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn.
“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say.
Once again, Wayne waited him out.
“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.”
A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.
How they almost hadn’t.
“Alright.” Wayne agreed.
Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.
He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy.
He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross.
Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer?
Wayne had a feeling it was needed.
#this has like t wo more parts#pre steddie#wayne as a BAMF#wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve#ya'll are gonna have to put up with my weird ass jumping all over the place warm ups sorry lol#Gary's fourth piece is coming no worries#and then this will either take its place or the other one I have will#you CANNOT look me in the eye and tell me all the blue color workers arent aware shits going down#like 100% local crews took one look at starcourt and went what the fuck#nevermind you know the local power plant lol#and with demo critters running around its not like they were tearing through brushes and shit#your local hunters are gonna know somethings up#anyway#beat to shit Steve Harrington#my beloved#hes gonna show up busted to shit with a major grade concussion and Eddie is gonna shit himself#steve harrington#steddie#I spelled collar color and im not changing it#outsider pov#wayne pov#I will write the first person who knows where I pulled John from a prompt of their choice#catholic wayne munson#jim hopper
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re: ohio chemical disaster
OP of the post I reblogged earlier regarding this turned off reblogs (understandable have a nice day) but I got a request to put the information in its own post, so here.
First thing: PLEASE be careful about claims that "The Media" is suppressing something as part of a malicious agenda, or that an event has been purposefully manufactured by "The Media" to distract from something else.
Not only is this a really common disinformation tactic (not only urging you to share/reblog quickly, but discouraging you from fact checking), treating "The Media" as a monolithic entity with purposeful agency and a specific, malicious agenda—particularly one that manufactures events to "distract" from other events—is a red flag for conspiracy theories.
There's already a post in the tag attributing the supposed lack of media coverage to "reptilians." Please connect the dots here.
Second—"the news isn't focusing on this as much as I think they should" is not a media blackout. Every major USA news source is reporting on the Ohio train derailment. Googling returns at least 4 pages of results from major news media sources. Even just googling "Ohio" gets you plenty of results about it.
This is an unusual amount of media attention for a U.S. environmental disaster.
Because this kind of thing happens all the damn time.
The "media blackout" narrative gives the impression that this is an unusual event that isn't receiving wall to wall coverage only because it's being suppressed—when the reality is that similar disasters happen a lot, and hardly ever get the attention the Ohio disaster is getting.
Consider this example, not too far from my local area: A few years ago, almost 2,000 tons of radioactive fracking waste were illegally dumped in an Eastern Kentucky municipal landfill, directly across from a middle school. Leachate from that landfill goes into the Kentucky River, which is where most of the central part of the state gets its drinking water. As far as we know, the radioactive waste isn't leaking yet, but it could start leaking at any time.
Zero national news sources covered this. Why? If I was to hazard a guess, I would say "because it's business as usual for the fossil fuel industry."
Consider also the case of Martin County, KY, which has had foul-smelling, contaminated drinking water for decades. Former coal country in Appalachia is poisoned and toxic, and laws have little power to punish the companies that created the destruction.
What happened in Ohio is just a little window into a whole world of horrors.
The Martin County coal slurry spill that is still poisoning the water 20 years later killed literally everything in the water for miles downstream (a book Mom read said 70 miles of the Ohio river were made completely lifeless). It was 30 times larger than the Exxon-Valdez oil spill, and it was in some sense "covered up"—in the sense that the Bush administration shut down the investigation because the Republicans are buddies with the fossil fuel industry, and proceeded to relax regulations even further.
Seriously, read that wiki article to get pissed enough to eat glass.
Hopefully the Ohio chemical spill will inspire real action to institute regulations to prevent shit like this from ever happening again. It's not the end of the world. It's not radically different from what industries have been causing the whole damn time. It is pretty bad.
I would urge everyone to actually search up information about it instead of getting news from Tiktok or Twitter, because the more false information gets distributed, the less momentum any effort to respond with improved regulations and changes to prevent future disasters will have. Plenty of facts here *are* public and being publicly discussed and pretending that they're not is actively detrimental.
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More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)
“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”
There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom.
She absolutely loathes hearing it.
Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.
You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons.
She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.
—————
For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.
Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout.
Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.
“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”
And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?
Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing.
“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”
“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”
It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.
“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”
Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence.
Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.
She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.
“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk.
Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”
By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—
“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”
“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”
“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move.
You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning.
“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.
Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place.
Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.
“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way.
“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”
You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”
“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.
You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.
It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.
“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.
Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”
You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening.
After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”
Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall. It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes.
God, you can already see how this is gonna end.
“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”
Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.
It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.
You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”
Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”
“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”
“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.
After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”
Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”
“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”
“She’s cheating on me. I know.”
Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”
“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.”
You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.
Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.
Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.
People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.
“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”
You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you.
“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.
“Among other things?” you question.
“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”
Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.
“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”
Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.
“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”
“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”
The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.
When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more.
So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself.
“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.
“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”
Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.
And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.
More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal.
The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.
And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth.
“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.
Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you.
You might as well repay the favor.
And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.
“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air.
Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.
Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.
So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.
You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite.
And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go.
Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.
Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.
She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants.
Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.
The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.
You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin.
Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.
Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths.
Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself.
“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.
Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes,
She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.”
Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection.
The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.
And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.
If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point.
Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old.
“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.
“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.”
And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.
Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense.
“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”
“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.
It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”
“And what about her?”
A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her.
It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”
“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.”
In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.
“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”
To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.
“Then show me.”
And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.
Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead.
The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.
In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.
Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.
“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.”
God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly.
You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels.
“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”
And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her.
Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.
Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer.
But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.
Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits.
Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.
But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.
“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.
If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.
You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building.
And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.
“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you.
“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped.
The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor.
“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”
On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.
The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.
“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.”
She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.
“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”
You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.
You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.
And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.
—————
(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)
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• - ARE YOU FLIRTING OR STARTING A FIGHT?- •
PAIRING(S): theodre nott x fem. reader
WARNING(S): smutt
SUMMARY: theodore and y/n are academic rivals, and when one time she gets into an argument with snape and gets detention, the slytherin boy finds a way to follow her there
A/N: thanks for 100 followers ily all 💓
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Everyone knew you and theodore were academic rivals, both of you had always been racing to be at the top of your classes for years now. However, you always were a few points ahead of him, so you always managed to find a way to brag about it.
You’d always rub your higher marked grades in front of his face, you’d tease him about it in the corridor, lunchtime, anytime, all the time. One class however, potions, was one you faced difficulty with.
Snape wasn’t the biggest fan of your house, Ravenclaw, neither was he of you. He gave you a hard time in his class, while on the other hand theo had it the way he liked.
One time in potions class, Draco gave Neville a potion which caused the Gryffindor boy to throw up slugs all over the room. This little show earned a good chuckle from pretty much everyone, and seeing as Snape wasn’t really trying to do anything about it, you finally snapped. “What the hell is going on?” you shout. “Calm yourself, ms.” Snape answered. “No, no! Look what hes doing to him, do something about it!” “Alright, shush now. This is my class, my business to handle, my choices to make and take.” He said, more angrily now.
“This is bullshit!” You shout. “All right, detention ms!” Snape shouts angrily. Just then, theodore punches blaise in the face, making his nose bleed. Holding his face, blaise speaks “what the actual fuck was that for?”. Theo then goes for another punch and thats when snape stops him using his wand, “alright nott, detention for you too!” you could see the little smirk appearing on theo’s lips as snape spoke.
Later ~
The both of you had to spend your night cleaning the library for detention, wonderful. You got there and to your surprise, theo was already there before you. You ignore him and immediately get to work, you wanted to be done and out of here in no time.
As you’re putting some of the books back, he approaches you. “You’re not going to ignore me the whole night right?” to that you dont answer. “But really, Longbottom, out of all people?” He chuckles. “What are you trying to say, neville is my friend and everyone always finds a way to make fun of him so i will not allow that to happen in my presence.”
You leave the slytherin boy in shock and he turns back to keep working on his part. After a while, he speaks again “You know that this whole problem thing with snape will cause you to fail his class?” he speaks.
“I do.” You scoff. “That means i have a higher chance of getting ahead of you and being at the top of the grade this year.”he teases. “I dont even fucking care nott.” You speak as you keep your face to the front, putting the books back in place. “But that wont happen.” He adds. You turn to him confused, “huh?”. “That wont happen i said.” He speaks.” “And how come?” you ask. “Listen to me, we’ve been academic rivals for years, every single time i was so close to beating you, but i never did, do you ever wonder how?”
You don’t speak, as you cant quiet understand what he’s talking about. He then proceeds to continue “i did it on purpose, i knew how much it matters to you, i read your diary in our first year saying how you were so bad at everything you’ve tried and that studying was the only thing you were good at, thats why i’d write the wrong answers on purpose. Id also steal potter’s invisibility cloak to sneak into the classrooms and change your wrong answers.”
“There is no way,” you say hesitantly unsure what to say instead. “Yes, you need to believe me.” “What the fuck, are you flirting with me or tryna start a fight?” He tilts your chin to look up at him, “i never wanna fight with you, i just want you to be happy.”
Just then you lean in closer and connect your lips. He kisses you back, tongues colliding, his hands land on your hips and he pulls you in closer. He pins you to the bookshelf and starts leaving wet, hungry kisses on your neck and collarbone. You moan at the feeling and grab his hair, to which he responds by biting the skin on your neck, slowly, then more aggressively. “Theo, i wanna thank you for what you did” you speak in between moans. “I wanna pleasure you please.” “You’ll only pleasure me by doing what i ask you to do, let me give you head until you forget your name, cara mia.”
Just then he lifts you so that your legs rest on his shoulders, he raises your skirt and lowers you panties. “God you’re already so fucking wet f’me bella.” He says as he begins trailing kisses around your pussy. You arch your back a bit, wanting him to eat you out already to which he chuckles before he begins teasing your folds with his tongue.
He licks your folds then keeps a hand on your thigh to make sure you don’t fall before he adds three fingers inside you all in one go. “HOLY FUCKKKK” you scream and squirm and squeeze around him, only burying his face deeper into your pussy as his tongue and fingers work in sync. You feel your climax building already, “im gonna cum, theo.” You moan as theo speeds his movements. “FUCKK, OH SHIT YEAH JUST LIKE THAT.”
You release and theo licks you clean. He then shows you some of your come on his fingers and he makes you lick them off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good,” he speaks, kissing you. You moan into his mouth then speak “let me give you head, please, i promise to swallow everything.” He breaks the kiss and smiles at you before beginning to remove his pants. You kneel between the boy, who’s now sat on a chair, and find the lace of his boxers.
You pull them down to reveal his hard, throbbing cock. You begin leaving trails of kisses along his v line. Then, you grab his cock and begin massaging it. He leans down to kiss you as you’re playing with him. You palm him and feel his dick twitch at your touch, then you take most of his length in one go. He moans loudly at the feeling as you lick around, sucking better than ever.
You allow your head to move up and down as you try to take more of his length, your nails digging into his thighs. He tugs at your hair, his fingers playing with your brown curls. The slytherin boy then pushes your head completely making his cock hit the back of your throat.
You gag loudly, the sound sending shivers down theos body. As a result, he throws his head back, moaning as you quicken your moves. “Ohhh, my god ‘hm, yeah, please.. mm.. hmh.. fuckkk just like that principessa.” The boy now a whining, whimpering mess. him moaning like that oml.
Without warning, he cums into your mouth. You look up at him between your lashes, your eyes filled with tears. He smiles down at you, watching you swallow everything. He then carries you and places you on his lap, “good girl, that was fucking awesome, tesoro (sweetheart).”
“I wanna make you cum one more time tonight, i know you have one left.” he speaks. “Only if you promise to come inside me.” You announce. He chuckles and nods as he begins removing your shirt. He removes it then proceeds to remove your bra.
Your boobs fly out, bouncing, also revealing your hard tits. He immediately lays his mouth on your breast, pleasuring your left boob, licking and sucking on it endlessly. He also used his other hand to pinch and play with your tit on the other side. This man, lord. He was only playing with your boobs and he was already gonna throw you over the edge again.
He then pleasured the other boob similarly, licking, sucking, and biting before he started leaving a trail of kisses all the way up to your neck. He then held your hips and slowly begin lowering you onto him, you were able to get most of him in the first time. Then, he gave you time to adjust before pushing more of himself in. You moan when you have his whole length in and then when you get used to his size, you begin riding him.
As you begin riding him slowly and carefully, he groans slightly at the feeling. Theo then places his fingers on your clit and starts rubbing hard which makes you feel yourself cum start to form. “Im gonna cum again teddy..” you announce. “Do it, f’me cara mia.” You speed your movements and so does he, you begin moaning at the speed of things to which he kisses you to stop the moans from being too loud.
Then, theo uses his hips to thrust deeper into your so that you’re practically bouncing on him. That is followed by him sucking on the sensitive skin on your neck, biting and licking it until you scream as you release onto him. As he’s helping you ride out your climax, you moan his name making him groan and cum inside of you.
The boy then grabs your face and kisses you hard, “i fucking loved that,” he speaks. “So did i” you smile back at him. Just then, you hear a sound coming from somewhere to which you both jump in fear and begin getting dressed. You manage to put your skirt and shirt on, but the slytherin boy only his pants before mr lupin appears.
His eyes widen in surprise at the site of the boy half naked, “a little hot mr nott?” “uhh.. yes sir” he says hesitantly. Remus then chuckles, “im gonna let it slide this time but please try to do it in a more private place and finish your duties too.” You both nod before moving back to your jobs.
#harry potter#slytherin#theodore nott#theodore nott fanfiction#slytherin boys#smut#theodore nott x reader
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sleepwalking ● 14 | jjk
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers
warnings: explicit language, risky motorcycle ride? (idk nothing bad happens but always wear helmets, friends), some fun flirting & jokes, but mostly ANGST AND PAIN (including explicit descriptions of very intense anxiety at the very end)
words: 12.3k
read from the beginning ○ masterlist
chapter 14 ► this isn't over 'til we talk in the light, said i was sober, but you knew that i lied
In the lounge area outside the changing rooms of “013” in Tilburg, Jungkook was engaged in a very intense game of table tennis against Seokjin—and winning, even though Seokjin would have disagreed—when you entered to inform the band that they were going on stage in twenty minutes.
The game wrapped up as the members began to stretch while simultaneously accosting Jimin about their in-ears. There were never any serious issues – Jimin made sure he was the Sound Technician of the Year – but they enjoyed seeing him panic when everyone started moaning, “could you turn the backtrack up a bit?” or “I literally can’t hear myself.” This last one was Taehyung’s favourite, until Jimin started retorting with, “well, maybe you’re deaf,” and then continuing with his day.
The pre-show ritual was always chaotic, but it was endearing chaos, full of nervous laughter and sparkling eyes as the members of Rated Riot prepared for their performance.
Then, just as Jungkook left the dressing room, putting his own in-ears back in, he turned the corner and almost collided with Sid, who looked more than pleased when Jungkook took a surprised step back.
What an absolute eye-sore, Jungkook thought. As the tour went on, he began to understand your aversion to his friends better.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, and it sounded like he wasn’t just asking about Sid being in this room. He was questioning Sid’s constant presence on this tour. Surely, with Jungkook no longer participating in his little games, he had to get bored and go back home.
The past few weeks have taught Jungkook that some friendships had an expiration date, and sometimes stupid bets accelerated that process. He was okay with that now—he realised that holding onto Sid would be much worse than being left alone.
“Just came to wish you luck before the show,” said Sid, who had never genuinely wished anyone luck before. “We’re here if you want to talk.”
Jungkook frowned and glanced at Minjun—who stood further away from the rest of their friends, and rolled his eyes—then he looked back at Sid.
“I’m good,” he said slowly and cautiously as if Sid was a snake that attacked when it sensed defiance.
Just when Jungkook thought he was safe and tried to walk away, Sid’s saccharine voice—the venomous kind—called out, “don’t forget we’re going out racing tonight!”
Jungkook stopped and turned to him again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Don’t be like that,” Sid taunted. “This could be your chance to practise riding a rental since it seems like you’re going to lose your bike in five—”
“You really don’t have anything better to do, do you?” Jungkook interrupted. Maybe it was the pre-show adrenaline or maybe he had finally grown tired of Sid’s bullshit, but he added, “I feel sorry for you.”
Sneering because people felt many things for him – mostly contempt – but pity wasn’t one of them, Sid leaned in closer. It was a tactic that Jungkook had already grown immune to, but Sid was a creature of habit.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he hissed, not bothered by the emptiness in Jungkook’s stare. “See you later.”
“You won’t,” Jungkook asserted. “I’m not going out with you. This is all over, including the bet.”
Sid raised his eyebrows. With a very specific sense of justice that no one else in this hallway—or in this world—possessed, he declared, “I get the Katana, then.”
There was something questioning about his tone, however. As if he needed Jungkook’s confirmation that he did indeed lose this bet to Sid.
But Jungkook was firm: “You don’t.”
Sid threw his head back and scoffed with an exasperation that could have put a two-year-old to shame. “Well, then neither do you!”
“That’s fine,” Jungkook said. “Minjun can keep it.”
As Sid huffed and growled in frustration, Jungkook looked at his friend again. Minjun seemed about ready to interject—he was the one person here who did not want the bike and, in fact, wished it did not exist at all—but Sid finally found his words.
“You think Minjun can—the bike is mine,” he insisted. “I won—”
“Sid, you don’t give two shits about the fucking bike,” Jungkook cut him off, very tired of the repetitive argument. “Get over it.”
The conversation with Taehyung at Hoseok’s party weighed heavily on Jungkook’s mind. He knew he had bigger things to worry about right now—forget losing the bike. He might lose you.
In his usual dignified manner—so, not dignified at all—Sid rolled his eyes and snarled, “I agreed to bet on it, didn’t I? Obviously, I do give a shit.”
“No,” Jungkook said. “You give a shit about winning. But it’s over. We’re not doing this anymore. Deal with it.”
There was a redness on Sid’s face that hadn’t been there before. A week ago, Jungkook would have been excited to see it—it would have certainly meant a point in his favour. Now, he didn’t want to see Sid’s face at all.
“It’s not over,” Sid argued, persistent like a fly that keeps hitting the glass of a window. “There’s still five days left.”
“Five days until what?”
Four heads whipped around to see you standing at the end of the hallway, confused by the snippet of conversation that you’d overheard. You had returned to find Jungkook because the rest of the band was already pacing – or, in Hoseok’s case, doing restless sit-ups – by the side of the stage.
Jungkook, Sid, Jude, and Minjun stared at you with eyes so bright and wide that they could have guided ships off the coast.
You’ve never met four boys who looked more stunned to see you. It was as if you had accidentally stumbled into the latest concert of the Masculine Ritual, Absolutely No Femininity Allowed, God Forbid Someone Who Identifies as Female Enters The Room tour, and they could not believe this was happening.
“Uh,” Jungkook was the first to react as he immediately approached you. “I’ll tell you later. They’re just excited about, uh, London.”
You did the mental calculations while Jungkook gently squeezed your shoulder to turn you around and steer you away from his friends and towards the stage.
The London show really was more or less in five days, so you decided not to question that part. But the quick pace at which Jungkook was pulling you away from the others still unsettled you.
As you turned a corner, you looked back and saw Sid frowning at you, while Minjun—as usual lately—looked like he regretted being born, and Jude—as usual always—was picking his fingernails.
“Is Sid in one of his chaotic moods again?” you asked as you walked—nearly ran, actually, with the way Jungkook was pulling you. “Should I be concerned?”
“No, no. Everything’s fine,” he assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s just… doing Sid things. You know. Nothing to worry about as long as—well, as long as you don’t get in his way. I have everything under control.”
Your primary goal on this tour was to stay out of Sid’s way as long as he stayed out of yours. But now was not the time to discuss it, because Rated Riot had three minutes until their performance.
“Alright, then,” you said. “Leave me out of it and we’re good.”
Jungkook coughed in response and stopped once you reached the other members of the band. You thought you saw Taehyung raise his eyebrows when Jungkook took his hand off your shoulders, but maybe you were just imagining it.
You turned to the rest of the band, all of whom looked pale and fidgety and unsure.
The speakers had malfunctioned during the soundcheck earlier, so Jimin and Seokjin had to cut it short to fix the problem. Naturally, the disruption of their usual routine made the band anxious. The table tennis match between Seokjin and Jungkook—arguably the most unhinged members of the team when it came to games—had distracted everyone, but now they returned to the unpleasant arms of anxiety.
“Come on,” you said, trying to sound more energetic than you were feeling. “Stop looking like you’re going to get hanged. You’ll do fantastic out there. Go and have fun. And don’t bother coming backstage until you’re drenched and the crowd won’t stop changing your names. I mean it.”
Finally, a small smile appeared on Yoongi’s face as he rolled up one of his pant legs—for no reason other than he thought it looked cool. Honestly, it worked for him.
“Why did that last part sound like a threat?” he quipped, standing up straight.
“Because it is,” you replied. When you turned to Jungkook, he had his eyebrows furrowed as if he was still worried about something, but he started to smile as soon as he felt your gaze. You added, “I’ll be out there watching you. Kick some ass.”
You high-fived all four of them and pulled back as the boys erupted battle cries and huddled together before taking the stage.
They were still nervous, but they had you and each other, and there was a room full of people excited to see them perform. This was supposed to be just another day at the office.
Smiling, you headed back to your usual spot by the stage where Luna was chatting with a few girls at the barricade, and Maggie was snapping pictures of the audience nearby.
It occurred to you while standing there, that you were thousands of kilometres away from your house, away from everything familiar. But with Rated Riot on stage, and Luna and Maggie by your side, you felt right at home.
There was nothing you wished more than to stay like this forever.
It was an unwritten law that touring with a rock band was fun, but quickly turned very hectic. Insomnia often became an unwelcome friend—especially for the members of the band who had fashionable bags under their eyes almost every day. But when they were on stage or meeting their fans after the show, they looked alive. They looked happy.
And the more drinks they had after the concert, the more that happiness seemed to grow.
“You know what I think?” Yoongi said on the couch in the dressing room where everyone had gathered after the show. He was tipsy as he swung the green Heineken bottle around, nearly splashing you and Namjoon as you sat on either side of him. “I think next time we’re in Europe, we’ll be performing at Wembley. Stade de France. The fucking Coliseum.”
“And Camp Nou?” you teased.
Yoongi and Namjoon—both avid Barcelona fans—nodded in eager agreement.
“And not as guests at festivals, either,” Yoongi continued. “Headliners.”
You smiled. “I can see that.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi’s own smile widened. “When we announced our tour, Kerrang! called us ‘The Next Reconnaissance’ on their Instagram.”
You felt an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach at the mention of the other band and turned away from the two boys. You remembered the alternative culture magazine running rampant with the moniker—always “The Next Reconnaissance,” never just Rated Riot.
“I… don’t think you’re the next anything,” you said. “I think you’re you. And being Rated Riot is already amazing.”
Yoongi needed a moment to process your words. For some reason, he had expected you to agree with the nickname. Part of him wanted to be “the next Reconnaissance,” considering how much they had achieved. But you were right.
“I like that,” he said. “That’s good. Yes. We’re Rated Riot. We’ll get Wembley. And Camp Nou.”
“I second that,” Namjoon said, pointing his beer bottle at the other boy. “But, oh, we saw Reconnaissance at Rose Bowl last year, remember? Might be the best concert I’ve ever been to. I know they were in town again before we left for Europe, but I didn’t get to go. It was at a smaller venue anyway, I think. Rose Bowl, though... Stadium shows are something else.”
You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Namjoon over Yoongi’s head. The producer didn’t normally say this much in one breath. He was clearly getting drunk.
Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t notice anything wrong. He was likely equally as buzzed. He hummed as he threw his head back and took a large swig of his beer. Then he turned to face you.
“We’ve never opened for a band their size before,” he said. “Do you think we even could? I mean, they’re not The Rolling Stones, but they’re… well…”
He let the sentence falter because he couldn’t find a fitting word, but both you and Namjoon understood.
“Uh, well, who says you can never work with them in the future? I know their manager,” you said, trying to sound uplifting, but quickly catching yourself. You could have made your point without mentioning this. But because the two boys suddenly looked at you as if you’d just said you were Kurt Cobain in your past life, you had to explain, “he’s, uh—he’s Nick Zhou. I worked under him after university.”
“No shit?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows even higher. “Are you still in touch?”
“Not really,” you mumbled, finding yourself in a tough spot. Avoiding the subject now, when you were the one who mentioned Nick, would essentially mean lying to them. You didn’t want to do that. Awkwardly, you admitted, “although, he did, um—he called me a few days ago. Back in Oslo.”
“What?” Namjoon leaned forward to look at you over Yoongi, who stopped drinking his beer, distracted by the conversation. “Why didn’t you say anything? What did he want?”
Suddenly, you regretted finishing your beer before you joined them on the couch.
“Well, see, that’s the thing. He, uh—he wasn’t calling about the band. Or, well, he was, but it wasn’t—okay.” You closed your eyes and took a breath. This was a very long detour to get to the most important sentence. “He said he’s looking for an assistant manager.”
The two boys next to you exchanged a look.
“And… he wants you?” Namjoon asked.
“Yeah,” you said. “But only because he needs someone quickly and he’s already worked with me before, so—”
“Well, fuck,” Yoongi concluded, cutting off your humble explanation, while Namjoon offered an equally insightful, “wow, shit.”
You nodded – both observations accurate – and quickly added, “I didn’t—I’m not going to do it, though.”
“No?” Yoongi asked. “Why not?”
The hint of surprise in his voice made you uncomfortable. It sounded like the reasonable decision would have been to accept Nick’s offer and leave Rated Riot to work with this much bigger, much more intimidating band.
“I-I guess I don’t want to be anyone’s assistant anymore,” you stammered. “I like running the ship myself.”
The guitarist’s expression softened. But before he could speak, Namjoon slapped his palm on his thigh and cheered so uncharacteristically loudly that you and Yoongi both pulled back from him in surprise.
“I know that’s fucking right!” Namjoon cried out. “Steer us all right and Rated Riot will surpass them. You’ll be calling that guy to get him to be your assistant.”
You laughed at the unexpected proposition, and Yoongi gave your knee a friendly pat.
“We won’t let you down,” he said, much more collected than the boy next to him. “You know?”
“I know.” You were smiling with all the warmth in your chest. “I believe you, that’s why I don’t want to leave. But, uh—would you mind not telling anyone else about this? I don’t want it to, you know, blow out of proportion. It wasn’t even an official offer, really, he just mentioned that there was an opening. But I just… I thought it would be unfair if I didn’t eventually tell any of you.”
Yoongi nodded knowingly. Rated Riot didn’t have a designated leader, since Namjoon—as their main producer—and Seokjin—as their stage manager—called most of the shots, but as the oldest member of the band, Yoongi was typically the one to talk to you about the heavier topics.
“It’s cool,” he said. “As long as you’re staying with us, no one else really needs to know about this, right?”
What he’d just said—paired with the way he looked at you for a few seconds longer than necessary—seemed to imply something else. Your eyes automatically drifted to Jungkook, who was talking to Seokjin and Jimin on the other side of the room.
You lowered your eyes. “Yeah.”
Yoongi finished his beer in one swift gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he looked at you again.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said.
You met his gaze. “For what?”
“For believing in us enough to stay.”
Namjoon felt himself smile as he quietly finished his beer. He knew he was tipsy, but he wasn’t drunk enough to interrupt the moment between you two.
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Here, you turned to Namjoon. “Right?”
Looking at you in surprise after you addressed him, the producer scrambled to nod.
“Oh, hell yeah!” he said, leaning forward to reach Yoongi’s completely empty bottle with his own. “Here’s to Wembley next year.”
You smiled as the older boy clinked his empty bottle against Namjoon’s, then tipped his head back to get the last stubborn drops.
“Oh, by the way,” Yoongi spoke as he swallowed and immediately coughed. “D-did you find out what was going on with Jungkook and his lyrics?”
It took you a minute to recall your last conversation with Yoongi—the one that had led you to Jungkook, where he had dodged your questions and later snuck into your bunk on the tour bus and kissed you.
“Uh, well.” You tugged at the sleeve of your leather jacket. “He said that the song he played you was just a demo. He’s still working on the melody. And he said that he just has someone who reviews his lyrics for him, nothing more.”
Yoongi nodded to the rhythm of an unusually slow Asking Alexandria song that played from the speakers of the dressing room.
“So, we shouldn’t worry?” he asked, clearly hopeful.
“Apparently, no,” you said with an uneasy smile.
“Alright,” he decided. “Then let’s not worry.”
He looked at Namjoon who nodded in support of this decision.
And so, not worrying was exactly what they did. Instead, Namjoon brought three more bottles of Heineken and you all decided to just feel happy tonight.
As you scanned the room with a new bottle in your hand—while the boys finished their beer in under a minute and Namjoon got up again to bring more—it seemed to you that everyone had made the exact same decision.
Except Taehyung for some reason.
For a good minute, you watched him walk in circles in the very centre of the room. Then, just when you thought he’d stopped, he started another lap around the carpet.
“Excuse me for a minute,” you said to the two boys on the couch—they both nodded—and stood up.
A brief, unexpected fight broke out over the bottle of beer that you’d handed them—Namjoon won—and you hesitated for a moment as you realised you had a new problem and weighed it against the previous one.
The new problem was that Yoongi and Namjoon were getting very drunk. It was almost ridiculous, but probably harmless. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting to perform at four more gigs as soon as he left this room. You had to go to him first.
He had noticed the commotion by the couch, but he did not acknowledge your approach.
“Is everything okay?” You had to stop right in front of him to ask as he continued his frenzied pacing. “You’re kind of walking in circles here.”
Taehyung stopped as if in a daze and looked at you. “Hm? Ah. Lots on my mind, I guess.”
You nodded slowly. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Uh…” He looked around. The movement seemed thoughtful, but without a clear purpose—it seemed like he was just avoiding your eyes. Then you saw his gaze land on Jungkook. Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then turned back to you and scratched the back of his neck in a telltale sign of universal discomfort. He said, “honestly, maybe it’s not me that you should be talking to.”
You glanced at Jungkook, too—he was explaining something to Jimin with very wild hand gestures. He still appeared to be on a high from the concert.
“You mean Jungkook?” you asked, shifting your attention back to Taehyung. “Is he the reason why you’re pacing?”
“Sort of,” the bassist replied, blinking at the carpet.
You didn’t like the trepidation in your stomach. And you definitely didn’t like the unexpected memory of the alarm that you had seen on Jungkook’s face in your hotel room in Amsterdam.
“Why?” you asked because, despite the ominous dread that you were feeling, it was still your responsibility to know what was going on with the band.
“Just talk to him,” Taehyung advised. “But don’t tell him I said so.”
You hesitated, wanting a bit more information before you dived off this cliff headfirst. You asked, “at least tell me if something happened, so I can be prepared.”
He glanced at Jungkook again. This time, the younger member seemed to sense his gaze as he turned around. Taehyung looked away immediately.
He muttered quickly, “ask about his friends,” and then retreated to the very back of the room until he was fully concealed by Hoseok and Maggie.
A reluctant “oh,” passed your lips, but knowing that Jungkook’s friends were involved meant that there was nothing else that Taehyung could have said to you anyway.
You had to go straight to the source.
You couldn’t say this surprised you. You already got an odd feeling when you walked in on Sid and his Asshole Alliance before the concert tonight, but Jungkook had assured you that everything was fine.
However, if this was something that made Taehyung stomp around the room—which never happened unless the situation was extremely stressful, like the time Luna was getting surgery and he almost rubbed off the soles of his shoes, walking back and forth in the waiting room of the clinic—then it most certainly wasn’t fine.
Your original plan was to wait until everyone was back on the tour bus, since you’d be spending the night in Tilburg anyway. But then you remembered all the times you’d asked Jungkook if everything was okay—and all the times he said it was—and you decided that waiting would not cut it this time.
“Hey,” you said right in the middle of his conversation with Jimin. You added an apologetic, “could you excuse us, please?” but Jimin could tell as soon as he looked at you that he’d better leave.
As quickly as it was humanly possible, he nodded and jogged to join Yoongi and Namjoon by the door of the room. The two of them were loudly discussing their plan to go out and find a bar, but they paused after noticing Jimin.
You watched them for a moment, wondering if you should have stopped them from leaving when they were already so drunk, but they noticed you, waved, and left before you could open your mouth.
Sighing, you turned to Jungkook just as he asked, “what’s up?”
He didn’t appear unusual when you looked at him. But he rarely ever did.
“Are you okay?” you asked in return.
You were both tired of the question, but Jungkook disliked the sound of it particularly much this time. He’d seen you—out of the corner of his eye—take six steps in his direction right after you finished talking to Taehyung.
What if he’d told you?
“Uh, of course,” Jungkook said, looking at you with just as much confusion—and a sprinkle of suspicion—as you were looking at him with. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” you said. Your heart rate increased as if you’d already heard the bad news you were expecting to hear. “How are, um—how’s Sid and everyone else?”
Jungkook disliked this question even more.
“Oh,” he said in a relaxed tone that sounded forced even to him. He cleared his throat and scanned the room for the older member, but didn’t find him. Even more nervous now, he turned to you and tried again. “You mean Sid and the others? They—they’re okay. Sid’s just being annoying, but what else is new? But I’m—we’re all okay. Thanks for, uh, for checking in.”
“Of course,” you said. You waited for him to elaborate so you could discover the reason for Taehyung’s anxiety which resulted in two more members of the band that you needed to worry about.
Honestly, Hoseok was the only one who wasn’t playing with your nerves tonight. You saw him peacefully tapping his foot to the music in the room as he chatted with Maggie and a few other staff members.
Jungkook did not pursue the topic further.
“What did you talk about with, uh—with Taehyung?” he asked instead with all the subtlety of a frightened elephant in a porcelain shop.
“Oh, this and that,” you lied. Then, feeling uncomfortable about lying, you scattered a bit of truth in there, “Luna’s face-timing her mum on the bus, so he was—he’s bored.”
“Ah.” Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”
He didn’t think—or didn’t want to think—that Taehyung would tell you about the bet after he asked him not to.
And, really, he tried to be reasonable. If Taehyung had told you, would you be here, peacefully asking him if he was okay?
No. You’d use fists, he presumed. Possibly knees.
“So, there’s nothing you want to tell me?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his masochistic fantasy.
Jungkook swallowed. Whatever it was that you talked about with Taehyung, it was clearly neither this, nor that.
“There is, uh, one thing,” he admitted slowly.
You inhaled. “What is it?”
“What are you plans for the rest of the night?”
This was not what you had braced yourself for. Annoyed by his stalling, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket.
“Well, depending on what you tell me, either I’m arguing with you or going to sleep,” you said. Glancing at the phone in your hand, you added, “it’s two in the morning.”
“We have tomorrow off,” he reminded you. “Well, today, I guess.”
“I know, but we’re going to Cologne—”
“That’s only in the evening.”
“Okay.” You looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear the two of you. Not that you were doing anything forbidden—just merely bordering on it. “What are you getting at?”
“You’ve finished all your work for the night, right?” he asked and you nodded apprehensively. He said, “come do something with me.”
Once again, the dilemma that plagued your mind whenever you were with him returned.
The responsible thing to do here would be to, of course, gently suggest going to sleep. There was a long day of travel ahead of you, after all.
However, this could be your chance to determine if there was truly something alarming happening between him and his friends. Not to mention, he clearly still had something to tell you, despite appearing to have lost courage after the strange moment in your hotel room.
And, alright – the truth was, you wanted to do something with him.
“That’s very vague,” you finally said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Come with me,” Jungkook said, gesturing towards the door of the dressing room.
You agreed to follow him to the door but paused before leaving the room.
“I’d like more information,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest.
You tried to convince yourself that there was no logical reason for the entire room to be watching you and Jungkook right now, but you still felt phantom eyes all over yourself.
This wasn’t Hoseok’s party. You were still at the concert venue where Jungkook was the performer, and you were the manager.
He noticed your unease. First, he sighed. Then, as if he was compromising, he extended his hand.
“Take my hand,” he said. “And come with me.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant—”
“Come on,” he cut in, waving his hand in front of you. “Less talking, more holding my hand.”
Because your back obstructed the view of his outstretched hand for everyone else in the room, you knew you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing this. Still, you let out a slow, anxious breath.
“Fine,” you said with exaggerated irritation to emphasise your displeasure about being kept in the dark. Then you took his hand.
As the two of you exited the room, there were ulterior motives firmly set in both of your minds.
You had to find out what was going on.
He had to tell you what was going on.
And Jungkook had a plan here somewhere. He knew he needed to tell you about the bet tonight, especially since you almost found out about it accidentally right before the show. And also because Taehyung looked about ready to start climbing walls.
He had a rough idea of how he’d like to tell you: it had to happen in a beautiful spot that would make up for the awful revelation he was about to make. If not make up for it, then at least make it worth your while.
And he’d done his research—as always. This was the one lesson from your relationship that he hadn’t learned as he continued to strenuously plan everything in the hopes of making it memorable and unique.
“There’s this spot. The Wandelbos,” he said as the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the corridor of the venue.
He pronounced the word with relative ease, making you wonder how many times he’d heard it. Then he showed pictures on his phone.
“This looks like a forest,” you commented, stopping to scroll through several photographs of squirrels and autumn trees—which wasn’t easy because he refused to let go of your hand as you held his phone.
“It’s a baroque park,” he clarified. “It’s beautiful, supposedly.”
You handed his phone back to him. “I’m sure it is. But not at two in the morning.”
“The path is star-shaped,” he continued, ignoring your interjection as the two of you kept walking. “And there’s a clearing in the middle with a pond and a bridge and—oh, and it’s only about six kilometres away.”
He held the exit door open, allowing you to walk out into the brisk night air.
Crossing the threshold, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “You want to walk over there?”
Actually, he did. But your question made him pause. “Uh... no?”
You stopped and waited until he walked out into the parking lot, but his attention was suddenly drawn to something behind you.
You ignored that and said, “well, we can’t rent bicycles at this time and—”
“Sorry—hold on for one second,” he stopped you abruptly.
You turned around and followed his gaze until you spotted Minjun by the restaurant across the street. Your lips parted in involuntary surprise, but it wasn’t Minjun’s presence that really startled you. It was the fact that he was leaning against a motorcycle, of all things, and there were two more bikes parked right next to him.
When you looked back at Jungkook, he looked almost relieved.
How wonderful it was, he thought, that Sid was such an insufferable idiot that he would decide to have a drag race in the middle of the Netherlands.
From across the street, the bike Minjun had rented out appeared to be a Kawasaki. Despite Jungkook’s previous bad experiences with the brand—involving a mild concussion and a dented metal fence, which, in his defence, appeared out of nowhere—this gave him an idea immediately.
“Could we go over there? Or maybe you could wait here for a minute?” he asked you while already walking away—and pulling on your hand until you had to let go because you were absolutely not going over there. He promised, “one minute!”
You could tell right away that he’d just found a potential means of transportation.
“Jungkook, that’s probably not a good idea!” you called out as he neared the street.
“I’ll be right back!” he shouted, forming the shape of a heart with both of his hands as he went.
You cringed as he crossed the street without looking both ways, but fortunately, there weren’t a lot of cars around. Unfortunately, however, you couldn’t hear what he and Minjun talked about due to the distance and the heavy gusts of wind.
You waited alone, with only your confusion for company.
If Jungkook stayed with the band while his friends went out, and now he went over there to borrow some devil-sent motorcycle, then clearly, that had to mean that he finally started to make smart(er) decisions while still being on good terms with his friends.
So, what was it that worried Taehyung so much?
“Dude!” Jungkook exclaimed across the street from you when he finally reached Minjun and scared the hell out of him with his shout—he flinched so vehemently that he nearly knocked the bike over. “Whose is this?”
“Uh—mine. We rented bikes for the race,” Minjun explained and glanced at you standing by the exit of the venue. “Sid was about to call you and force you to come with us—”
“I need it,” Jungkook interrupted, choosing to ignore the fact that there wouldn’t have been enough bikes if he had come along.
Minjun turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”
“I need to borrow it.”
“Borrow—it’s a rental.” Minjun turned his head to look at the neon green motorcycle. He knew that riding down the city streets with Sid and Jude on rented bikes was already reckless. Subletting the motorcycle to someone else, however, might be equally as stupid. “It’s in my name.”
“It’s the least you can do for me,” Jungkook said right away as if he had planned this in advance instead of only noticing Minjun and the motorcycle a mere two minutes ago.
His words weren’t entirely true, considering that Minjun wasn’t the one who had manipulated him into this mess. But Jungkook was appealing to his conscience—and that thing was eating Minjun alive. You could see it from across the street, even without knowing the reason for it.
Minjun bit his lip, fighting a very unpleasant battle with his own self.
“Okay. Fine,” he conceded, even though he knew very well what Sid would say about his impartiality and about the fact that he’d now have to ride as someone’s passenger—likely Jude’s, because Sid would rather cut his own head off than allow someone else on his bike, even if it was a rental. Hurriedly, Minjun added, “you have to return the bike back by midday tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” Jungkook replied brightly. “That’s more than enough time.”
“I’ll text you the address of the rental place,” Minjun continued, getting his phone out.
Jungkook kept on nodding. “That’s great. You do that.”
His friend typed a text message and pulled out the keys to the bike from his jacket pocket. He tossed them to Jungkook just as his phone vibrated.
“Don’t wreck it,” Minjun warned. “Or yourself.”
Jungkook grinned, swinging his right leg over the motorcycle and putting the key in the ignition. “I won’t. Thanks again!”
His friend glanced back at the restaurant, suddenly grateful that the take-out was taking so long to prepare. This meant that Sid and Jude wouldn’t notice Minjun giving the bike away—even though they would notice it gone and would probably realise where it went.
Meanwhile, Jungkook revved the engine and turned towards the parking lot of the venue.
The Kawasaki felt unusual underneath him and it made him miss his Katana, but he swallowed the disconcert. Beggars couldn’t be choosers—this was better than nothing in any case.
He stopped right in front of you in the parking lot, switched the engine off, and leaned back from the handlebar to give you a smile.
“So?” He patted the side of the bike. “Ready for a ride?”
You shook your head, disapproving of the cheesy grin on his face, and sunk your teeth into your tongue to resist a smile.
There were numerous—numerous—reasons why you weren’t ready to climb on this bright green monstrosity that must have been visible from any space station above. If not visible, then certainly audible.
“There’s only one helmet,” was the one concern that you chose to voice.
Jungkook hadn’t considered that as he glanced at the helmet, attached to the tail of the bike. He leaned over to unhook it and offered it to you.
“No,” you said before he started to speak. “If anything, you should be the one wearing it. You’re the driver. And the vocalist of a band that’s literally on tour right now. You can’t perform if you get your head snapped off.”
“Can’t perform if I get yours snapped off, either,” he argued. “Put it on. I’ll go slow.”
This was still a safety hazard, and at first, you debated arguing. Then you tried to rationalise.
Jungkook hadn’t had any alcohol after the show—which was very unusual, now that you thought about it. He must have been planning something all along.
Additionally, the streets were mostly empty, except for one car whose driver gaped suspiciously at the many motorcycles on the street, narrowing his eyes at each and every one of them as he drove past.
There was also Minjun across the street, looking as though he was praying that you and Jungkook would drive off quickly.
“Come on,” Jungkook encouraged. You understood his impatience—if Minjun was here, the rest of the Insolent Idiots couldn’t be far behind.
You looked back at the helmet in his hands.
This wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten on a motorcycle with Jungkook, but it had been a while.
He had always been a huge fan of anything that could reach over a hundred in under five seconds, so he’d been riding bikes since before he was legally allowed to. However, the two of you had already broken up when he purchased and restored the Katana that he never stopped talking about—so you’d never ridden with him when he actually owned the vehicle.
It occurred to you suddenly that Jungkook had probably never mentioned his motorcycle since the tour started. You made a mental note to ask him about that later.
Now, you finally took the helmet from him and pushed it over your head. Maybe the most important justification for your decision was this: you’d missed the excited twirling of your heart when he took you for a ride.
The joy that Jungkook felt as he watched you put the helmet on surprised him.
He remembered the first time you struggled to fasten the straps under your chin and managed to graze your skin. Now, listening to you sigh as you squeezed the helmet over your head and tightened the straps without his help, he realised that you hadn’t forgotten. That you were still used to this.
Excited shivers ran across his skin as you climbed on the bike behind him. But he could sense your apprehension—your initial instinct was to hold onto the back of the bike.
“Come on, now. This isn’t your first time,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder. “You know I won’t go unless I know you’re holding on tight.”
“I assure you,” you said. Your voice was muffled by the helmet. “I’m holding on tight.”
He clicked his tongue as he turned to face forward again. “I happen to not believe you.”
“Tough.”
“We’ll be here a while, it seems.” He released the handles and leaned back. “Maybe we should see if Sid wants to join us, I’m sure he would love to—”
“My God!” you groaned. “Fine.”
You wrapped your hands around his waist but kept your touch light, almost nervous. Grinning, Jungkook reached for your hands and pulled them closer to make sure you had a strong hold.
When he squeezed the clutch, he felt you tighten your arms around him even more. Satisfied that he could feel more of your weight against his back, he finally pressed the starter and pulled the bike off.
He raced down the street—much to Minjun’s relief—at a speed that definitely would have been dangerous for someone without a helmet if there had been other cars around. But the road was empty and there were hardly any turns to make.
And as he sped down these empty streets, you had to admit to yourself that this was, simply, thrilling.
The rapid pace seemed to elevate your insides, forcing you to hold onto Jungkook more tightly as you rested your head against his back and watched the streetlights blur together. The deafening sound of the engine, the dark visor of your helmet, the intoxicating speed, the rough metal underneath your thighs, and the soft leather of the jacket that he was wearing—all of it was absolutely exhilarating.
Jungkook knew—he’d always known—that you would have enjoyed the thrill of a late-night ride far more than a simple walk down the Tilburg streets.
And he was excited to see your silly grin and dilated pupils after you took off the helmet outside of the park. He was almost flustered by your glow—and by the fact that he was the reason why you looked so happy and so overwhelmingly full of life.
He nearly forgot to lock the bike as he looked at you.
But then the sudden memory of why he’d brought you here caught up to him like a painful crash.
“Uh, so,” he turned away, “should we go explore?”
“Might as well,” you joked weakly. Your legs were still a little shaky from the ride. “Since we’re already here anyway.”
“Right. Well, I wouldn’t mind taking another drive,” he said with a more confident smirk—that only grew in size and arrogance when he saw you smile at the suggestion. Then, he looked down and added, “but I also wouldn’t mind just walking and… talking.”
The two of you had done a lot of that—just walking and talking—since the tour started, so agreeing to this felt natural and harmless.
The park was beautiful indeed, just as the pictures on Jungkook’s phone had promised. Granted, walking through it at night when the streetlights were so sparse, provided a layer of eerie uncertainty—but even now, you were mesmerised.
In addition to the bold squirrels, peeking at you through the tree branches—their fur barely noticeable among the dark foliage, but their little beady eyes glistening—you could also see the sky above. You could see all of it, it seemed. And the patterns of the stars were so bright that you found yourself stopping several times, utterly captivated by them.
You regretted not learning the names of constellations—or how to differentiate them—but looking at the night sky was a breathtaking experience regardless.
The sky looked different here. And it felt closer, too. It was something you didn’t believe you could ever get used to, no matter how much you stayed here.
After a short while, you and Jungkook arrived at a pond, and he informed you that this was the very centre of the park.
It reminded you of home in an odd way, even though there weren’t many ponds back home—and none of them looked quite as charming as this one. Yet there was something familiar here, something homely. Even at night, in a park that resembled a forest more than a cosy picnic spot, there was something heartwarming here.
You could have been feeling this way, you supposed, because Jungkook was holding your hand as he guided you down a narrow plank over a dark creek. Without him, the eeriness of spending the night in an old park alone would have been much more noticeable. But with him here, it just felt comfortable. As if you both knew that you were destined to be safe from all harm here.
The stream ran deeper into the forest, and there were several benches scattered in the clearing on either side of the creek. The two of you sat down on one of them and listened to the silence of the trees and the gentle flow of the water.
Remembering suddenly, you spoke up—quietly, mindful not to disrupt the peace of all living things around you. “Did you know that my parents actually had their first date by a creek?”
Jungkook turned to you. He was more comfortable being loud, because he didn’t feel like a guest here. With you there, he sort of felt like the night—and everything that it touched—belonged to him.
“That’s a… very specific location,” he commented.
“Yeah.” You snickered. “There were no creeks in our town, dad took mum to the city where he grew up.”
“Oh, that’s actually nice,” he said, a little surprised. He’d never met your dad, but he knew that ‘nice’ wasn’t the adjective that was usually used in the same sentence as his name. “Was the creek special to him?”
“Not really,” you replied, shattering the romantic image that had already formed in his head. “It was the only pretty place that he could think of at the time. At least that’s what my mum thought.”
Careful, because this was a delicate topic and he didn’t want to come off like he was defending your dad, Jungkook asked, “she never found out if there was, maybe, more to it?”
“She never asked,” you said. “Either way, that date didn’t exactly end well. In the long-term, I mean.”
Jungkook looked down at the dark ground beneath his boots. A few blades of grass poked through the dirt on the shore of the creek.
“I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “But can you really say that with such certainty? She has two kids. And you’re both pretty great.”
You smiled at this, and it gave him the courage to smile, too.
“Thanks,” you said. “And yeah. I guess you’re right. Some good did come out of it.”
The two of you were quiet for a minute. It was a comfortable minute, too, but only as long as you managed to keep your mind empty.
You succeeded—the memories of the stories that your mum had told you were slowly fading, overtaken by the calming whispers of the trees around you—but he didn’t.
“I never asked—and I don’t want to intrude now, but, uh,” Jungkook started, “from what you’ve told me before, I assumed that your parents got back together at some point, right?”
You nodded with an exhale from somewhere deeper than just your chest.
“Several points, actually,” you said.
Happy that you seemed willing to share this, he encouraged, “yeah?”
“Yeah. She kept taking him back when I was young, and my brother was—well, a baby, essentially,” you said. “Everyone told her not to do it, not even for the kids. They told her to move on, maybe find someone better. My uncle—mum’s brother—protested against this especially much. He had been against their marriage from the very beginning. But my mum loved the guy.”
The smile on your face when you said that last part made Jungkook tense—it contradicted so much with the sadness in your eyes.
“Did he love her back?” he asked.
You were about to respond with a reflexive answer that had been ingrained in you by years and years of your mother screaming about how your father was a good-for-nothing loser, how he could never love anyone other than himself, and plenty of other colourful descriptions that you probably shouldn’t have known at your age at the time. And yet, despite the intensity of her emotions after every break-up, she still took him back. Until one day she didn’t.
And now you had to pause.
“That’s probably a million-dollar question,” you said with a sad chuckle. “I don’t know. Is that awful of me to say? She doesn’t think he did, but she still got back together with him so many times. So maybe he did love her in his own fucked up way. But I-I don’t think someone who loves you is supposed to hurt you like that.”
Jungkook had leaned back as he listened to you and he nearly toppled over backwards at your words.
You were right, of course.
Someone who loved you should have never hurt you.
He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “That’s, uh—that’s not awful. That’s sad, I think. Your mum deserves better.”
“She does,” you agreed. “But I understand now that—well, in a way, she is who she is because of all that happened to her. She’s very strong and she cares so much. And the fact that her only flaw is loving people too much, it’s—I don’t know. Lately, that just makes me admire her more. Because she sees the best in people. No one does that these days, everyone’s always afraid to get hurt. But my mum, she’s like—she’s fearless. You know? I genuinely respect that.”
“Even if she really does end up getting hurt?” Jungkook asked.
“Yeah. Even then. And maybe that’s the thing,” you said, looking up at the sky again. “I mean, in general. The people we love are the only ones who can hurt us like that. Or, rather, it’s precisely because we love them that it hurts so much.”
“Hmm.”
He wasn’t sure if you were still talking about your parents by the time you reached the last few sentences, but he was too afraid to ask. He couldn’t even look at you as he stayed frozen in the same spot.
“I’m probably not making much sense,” you added with a small, uncertain laugh. “I just meant that it took me a while to understand my mum. Actually, I don’t know if I even fully understand her to this day, but um… I watched her give second chances to people who held the most against her and could hurt her the most. I thought they didn’t deserve it. But she... She knew the risk, she was familiar with heartbreak, and still, she stayed hopeful. For a long time, I resented that. I thought that was a—a weakness. It sounds cruel. But I thought I could never do that.”
You paused again. The memories—of more than just your parents—flashed in your mind a little too quickly for you to collect your thoughts. You looked down to compose yourself and felt Jungkook’s hesitant glance.
Finally, you finished, “all these years of watching the back-and-forth between my parents… It made me think that I could never give someone a second chance.”
Digging into the dirt with the heel of his boot, Jungkook asked, “you, uh… you don’t think so anymore?”
He glanced at you once more and then looked away again, even though you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the creek in front of you.
“I don’t know,” you said after a moment. “I think I’m less decided about it now. I admire my mum for having the courage for it, even though it rarely ever works out. And now I guess I think that it is more of a case-by-case kind of thing. It depends on the person.”
Feeling as if his chest had absorbed the water from the pond and everything inside of him was being flooded, Jungkook didn’t dare to inhale.
Breathlessly, he asked, “what about me?”
“You?” you echoed awkwardly. He gave the smallest of nods in response.
You realised quickly that you hadn’t said this to him in over four years, and it felt terrifying to admit it now with the solemn trees, a hurried creek, and curious squirrels for an audience.
“Well, fuck.” You swallowed. “I mean, I love you. You know?” You chuckled to hide your unease and leaned down to touch the blades of grass growing under the bench. “Too much for my own good, probably.”
Jungkook suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked up instead, but only caught a glimpse of the stars in the sky before he closed his eyes. The view behind his eyelids felt more special to him than the shimmering sky above—it was all darkness and dim echoes of you saying you loved him.
He couldn’t tell you now. How could he? You loved him.
And a second chance with you was all he’d ever wanted.
When he opened his eyes again, you were watching him. There was a haziness in your eyes—from the starry night, from the motorcycle drive, from the long overdue confession—and a small smile on your lips.
The moment that his eyes drifted to your lips, he felt himself inhale—more than once and he would have floated away—before he leaned in, responding to everything you’d said with a kiss.
He’d tell you about the bet, he would—but not now. Not when he felt your breath hitch as his lips touched yours. Not when you kissed him back, replacing all air in his lungs with your taste.
Right now, neither of you needed to say any other word as the forest around you settled. The leaves were frozen as if the wind didn’t dare to rustle them for fear of interrupting you.
The thought made you smile into the kiss—what a self-centred way to interpret your surroundings—and Jungkook pulled you closer.
For a minute, he made it feel like the world really did stop turning for the two of you. Like the forces of the universe had interfered to—
He pulled away all of a sudden, breathing so heavily that he was nearly hyperventilating.
He couldn’t do this. He’d already done too much.
The time that he’d borrowed—that he’d stolen—to be with you in peace had run out. Not even the universe could give it back to him.
“I’m sorry. There’s just, um,” he began, looking down and bringing a hesitant finger over his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
You felt your heart skip over a beat.
Immediately, you found yourself returning to the hotel room in Amsterdam. It felt vastly different now and the difference sobered you up—you had been in your hotel room then, but you were alone in an empty park tonight. And you realised that discussing it here would be a mistake.
Whatever he was about to tell you might make it difficult for you to stay here and you would have no way to leave.
“Wait,” you said. The word caught him off guard. “Tell me when we get back.”
He blinked. The very reason why he’d brought you here was to tell you the truth in a place that was yours for the night.
“W-why?” he asked.
“It’s not fair to me otherwise,” you said. Your heart had shifted from pleasant pounding to near-panicked banging, and you were starting to feel nauseous. “I’d be very inconvenienced if I was left here alone.”
Jungkook appeared even more perplexed. “Why would you be—I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you.”
“That’s assuming I don’t kill you after you tell me what you’re about to tell me,” you tried to joke. There was a small—almost desperate—smirk on the corner of your lips.
Jungkook looked away.
“Oh.” Nervously, he licked his lips. He hadn’t considered you being so uncomfortable after he told you that you wouldn’t want him around. And now that he thought about it, he felt a little dizzy. “Well, that’s, uh… that’s fair enough. Should we—do you want to go back?”
The dread in your stomach seemed to grow at this question.
You knew that you had to be aware of what was happening with him, but the ceremony of it—the trip to this beautiful spot and the kiss that unintentionally coaxed him into the truth—scared you.
You wanted to resist the rational parts of your mind and stay here, where you had just forbidden him from speaking about this.
“Not really,” you admitted.
Jungkook nodded, relieved by your honesty. “Me neither.”
So, you stayed still for another minute. Then another minute. And another one. Until all the additional time you’d given yourselves had run out, too.
You peeked at Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, afraid suddenly that he would look back at you and then you’d have to talk, after all.
He seemed very far away. Much further than that first night in Amsterdam, when he came to your hotel room to talk.
Now there were sirens blaring in his head and a relentless pounding in his chest. You could almost hear it when you looked at him.
At last, you said, “but we can’t stay here forever.”
Despite looking like he had drifted into another realm deep inside of his mind, Jungkook sighed. He’d been listening to you breathe, listening to the way the wind played with your hair. He was here.
But he really wished he wasn’t.
“I know,” he said.
Still, the two of you remained on the bench for another five minutes, surrounded by the quiet rustling of the weary trees. Even they seemed anxious for you.
This might be the last silence the two of you would share, Jungkook thought grimly.
He felt terrified.
Finally, he took a breath and turned to you. “Let’s—”
A faint buzzing from the back pocket of your jeans startled you both. The sound seemed so foreign here, like something that had travelled across time and space, and accidentally ended up here—in your universe, where it didn’t belong.
You pulled out your phone and saw, first of all, that it was four in the morning, and then that Namjoon was calling you.
“I should take this,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the tension that had left your hands very cold.
“Go ahead,” Jungkook mumbled.
This was fine, he tried to tell himself while you stepped away from him to answer the call. He would take you back to the truck stop where the tour buses should have been parked by now. And then he would tell you.
And whatever happened next would—
“So, that was Namjoon,” you said, returning to him with your phone in hand. The call had lasted for less than a minute. “Apparently, someone stole Yoongi’s laptop.”
Nearly thrown off balance at the news that sounded somehow disrespectful, considering the many things you already had to process, Jungkook frowned.
“Someone stole Yoongi’s laptop?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” you said, sliding the phone back into your pocket. You knew something like this would eventually happen. “Namjoon said that he and Yoongi went out for more drinks, and when they got back to the bus, the laptop was gone. They’re not sure when was the last time they saw it.”
Jungkook stood up from the bench. “Well, why do they think someone stole it? Maybe he just lost it.”
“Yoongi’s not the kind who loses things,” you pointed out.
“Well, Namjoon could have lent a hand with that.”
You shook your head to conceal your small, involuntary smile and shrugged, acknowledging that there was a chance that this really was a false alarm. Especially if Namjoon was involved. You all loved him very much, but he had a talent like no one else to consistently misplace his own—and others—belongings.
“They were already quite drunk when I talked to them backstage before leaving,” you said. “So it’s possible they got even more wasted and just lost track of it. Either way, I need to go back and find out what happened.”
You returned to being the band’s manager, and Jungkook wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden switch. He wasn’t sure how to handle anything that was happening. This whole park was spinning around him.
He felt a little bit like the creek behind him as he watched you—flowing somewhere on pure instinct, with no clear destination in sight.
“Yeah. Okay,” he said. Hesitantly, he extended his hand for you to take—to help you over the loose wooden plank again. And to ground himself with your touch. “Let’s go, then. We’ll talk later?”
You took his hand. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”
The truth was, you did not want to talk later.
You had a terrible feeling about it, and however irresponsible it may have been, you wanted to delay it as much as possible.
When you and Jungkook returned to the truck stop, Yoongi and Namjoon had already figured out where the laptop was. They looked very pleased to have remembered the Locate My Device app, never mind that you were the one who had kindly reminded them about it over the phone.
The laptop was, as it turned out, at a McDonald’s across the city. Neither boy could recall ever going there, so they remained convinced the device had been stolen.
You listened to their hypothesis with a serious face. But, unlike them, you were sober—the few beers you’d had after the concert were long forgotten—and you knew that the “thief” would probably be smart enough not to stop for a McFlurry after stealing someone’s computer.
The logical explanation was that your usually lovable and dependable boys had gotten so drunk that they’d forgotten about the fast food trip and left the laptop there themselves.
Regardless, you had to investigate. Because Yoongi and Namjoon were both pale with terror—and still buzzing from the spontaneous beer-tasting adventure that they’d gone on—it was up to you to find the computer.
You didn’t mind. This was your job, anyway. And you were eager to do something that did not involve talking about whatever it was that Jungkook wanted to talk to you about.
Jungkook, on the other hand, did mind. And it was evident when you exited the bus and saw him standing by the doors, pouting.
“I have to pick up the laptop,” you said, “and maybe report it to the police if it was really stolen.”
“Should I come with you?” he offered, not meaning to give you the option to refuse—which you took, of course.
“No,” you said, “you need to rest.”
“And you don’t?” he countered. “You’re the one who’s so overworked that—”
“Don’t start with that again,” you said, raising a stern hand to cut him off before someone overheard. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes and the expression on your face softened a little.
You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but you’ve had an impossibly long day.
“Don't worry about me,” you said. “This is my job. I have things to do. Laptops to save.”
“If I come, then—”
“Stay here,” you interrupted. “You had a show tonight. Now you have to get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
Biting his lip as mixed feelings of guilt and regret bubbled in his stomach, he asked, “we’ll, uh—we’ll talk, though. Right?”
“We’ll talk,” you promised. “Tomorrow.”
He fought with himself for another moment and then ended up saying, “okay. You never take me with you anyway.”
You didn’t have time to argue, so you kissed him before you went—quickly, softly, and with a nervous smile as you pulled away—and his heart seemed to leave with you as empty echoes of his racing pulse reverberated through his chest.
Tomorrow was very far away.
That would have been good if Jungkook still felt the paralysing panic from a few days ago. But even though he still felt scared now, he had already braced himself for the emotional consequences of telling you about the bet. Delaying it—against his will, this time—felt excruciating.
He knew he was the one to blame – he kissed you in the park instead of telling you about it right away, and then he agreed to wait until tomorrow.
And maybe this was what he deserved. He should have told you. But he hesitated and tried to convince himself of all sorts of irrational thoughts—and now here he was.
Alone.
And he was so frightened of being alone that he climbed right back on the motorcycle and headed to the address of the rental shop that Minjun had given him. He needed to do something, because he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t scream at the top of his lungs, either.
Easily enough, Jungkook found himself in the bar of a hotel across the street from the rental shop. The shop didn’t open until eight, so he had a little over two hours before he could return the bike. A little over two hours before the night ended and he had to figure out what to do next.
He finished his first glass before a single thought could occur to him. By the second one, he felt his body start to relax, but chaos continued to reign in his mind.
What will I do, what will I do, what will I do?
As Jungkook lost track of how many drinks he had, he pondered every which way to reveal this to you and all the questions that you might ask.
What was the trip to Paris for? And the persistent way he followed you around? The conversation on the bridge in Stockholm? On the rooftop in Oslo? The bicycles in Amsterdam? The nights in your hotel room?
None of that was truly for the bet. But would it matter?
You said you loved him tonight. But you’d hate him tomorrow.
Maybe he could wait for five days until he formally lost the bet. Maybe he should tell you then. Maybe the fact that he lost something important to him would make up for—no.
Jungkook shook his head, nearly spilling the bourbon in his glass. He paused then, not even sure if he was still drinking bourbon. It all just tasted wet to him at that point.
Regardless, he couldn’t tell you after losing the bike. Even losing it didn’t seem like such a tragedy right now, compared to losing you.
While he agonised over it, the bartender continued bringing him drinks—always on the rocks, even though he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The bartender was a kind elderly man, who probably should have known better than to keep serving alcohol to someone at six in the morning, but his experience told him that Jungkook was someone who needed it tonight.
Soon, however, Jungkook’s pride—his high tolerance for alcohol—became his biggest foe. He didn’t even realise how intoxicated he had become.
For all intents and purposes, he believed he was still fairly sober, considering how easily he spilt everything that was bothering him to the bartender. He even understood the advice he received in return—not that there was much to it.
“You have to tell her, son.”
He did have to tell you. He knew that.
And he was going to, he decided. Right now.
Jungkook found his way out of the bar with relative ease. Sure, he forgot that he had driven Minjun’s bike there, but he was able to walk without stumbling much, and that surely had to be an achievement.
Swaying only slightly, he stopped in the lot where the bus was parked and found your contact in his phone. Of course, the many emojis he’d used ensured that your name was the first one on the list, but he still found it easily enough.
Now, he had to admit this: he wasn’t sure if you actually answered his call. But he asked you to please, come outside, and within three minutes, you were standing in front of him.
If he had been aware of how drunk he was, he would have realised that he was screaming, so it didn’t matter if you’d picked up his call or not. You would have heard him anyway.
“What’s going on?” you asked, too confused to feel worried. You’d just returned with Yoongi’s laptop about half an hour ago. You weren’t sure if you’d even fallen asleep before coming outside again. “Are you drunk?”
There was exhaustion in your posture that Jungkook was too drunk to identify. You were very tired of dealing with the problems of drunk people tonight.
When Jungkook spoke, words poured out before he could properly think them through.
“Listen,” he said. His tongue felt oversized in his mouth. “I have to tell you something. I can’t—I should’ve told you this a long time ago. Maybe on the same day. Actually,” he hiccupped, “I never should’ve done this at all, then there would be nothing to tell.”
He hesitated for a moment, because in his mind—which was positively swimming in whiskey—he worried that his words may have caused a misunderstanding. He saw the frown on your face and cut in before you started to speak.
“Actually, no,” he said. “There would be things to tell. Because I like—I really—I like to talk to you. I want to tell you all kinds of things...” he paused here. Shook his head. “But not this. I don’t want to tell you this. But I must.”
He thought he came off very determined here, very confident. Really, he just sounded tired and drunk.
“Jungkook,” you said. “When I said we’ll talk tomorrow, I meant in the morning.”
“It’s—” He hiccupped again. “It’s morning.”
He wasn’t wrong, of course.
“After we got some sleep,” you clarified.
“Well, I can’t wait that long,” he insisted, stomping his foot and throwing himself off-balance. He had to lean against the side of the bus to stay upright.
You could tell that whatever he wanted to tell you was far worse than you expected. He was so drunk that he could barely stand, yet he was as determined as ever to get it all out right now.
You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. The anxiety that you’d evaded was quick to resurface, and even you felt a little unsteady on your feet.
“Okay,” you said. “Well, what is it?”
Jungkook straightened as much as he could.
A deep inhale, followed by a sharp, rushed exhale.
“I made a bet with Sid that I’d get back together with you.”
Silence came next.
You felt a sinking sensation deep within you as if something—an invisible current—was pulling you under the surface of the water. The ground beneath you swirled in uncertain whirlpools.
“Sid said I couldn’t do it,” Jungkook continued after a moment, his eyes cast low. “And I was—I wanted to prove him wrong. He is wrong. He’s always wrong, he’s such a—anyday. I mean, anyway. T-that’s not—I didn’t—this isn’t making any sense.” He slapped himself on the forehead in newfound frustration and you flinched at the abrupt motion. The slap only made the truck stop start to spin around him. Pressing his hands to his hips, he tried to explain, “I didn’t win or anything. Which you obviously know, since we aren’t back together.”
He laughed sadly here. You narrowed your eyes and felt one of them twitch.
The night was cold, and you clutched your arms tighter around yourself. Your posture was not aggressive—you gazed somewhere past him and you appeared frightened. You looked as if the wind might snatch you and carry you off to a place that he could not reach.
But then your eyes met his and there was a frigid emptiness there that he didn’t recognise. He shrunk into himself when he noticed it.
“I-I bet my bike, so I lost that,” he continued. “Well, not yet, but I’m going to lose it soon. Not on purpose, but Sid won’t fucking let me end the bet—” he cut himself off by inhaling again.
It seemed like there was so much oxygen in his lungs—he kept breathing in as he spoke, but never breathing out.
“That’s not the point,” he finished his thought. “What I wanted to do—to say, I mean—is that I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid. Sid got in my head.”
“Sid,” you repeated suddenly. The sharp sound of your voice startled him into looking up. “Got in your head.”
He looked at you for half a heartbeat. Somewhere in the whiskey haze, he could recall his conversation with Taehyung—or someone who resembled Taehyung. Jungkook remembered something about this being his own responsibility.
But then, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who Taehyung even was. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who he was.
“That’s an—that’s… that’s an excuse,” he managed to say. The letter S tasted wrong in his mouth. He clicked his tongue and continued, “he’s always in my head. I should’ve known better. I—I’m so sorry.”
You were breathing heavily, but you weren’t speaking.
He blinked his heavy eyes, each one of his eyelashes like lead.
“I just… I want you to know that everything that happened—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he said, swallowing after a great struggle. All these drinks tonight, and his throat still felt dry. “It was because I am—I really have been in love with you the whole time, and I—but I couldn’t—I can’t ask you to get back together while there’s this bet going on. Not that you’d agree—I just hope that you would—but I... i-it wouldn’t feel fair. It’s so—it’s all so fucking stupid.”
He groaned again and covered his face with his hands for a moment while he tried to collect his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to tell you and all of it was coming out so quickly that he wasn’t sure he told you anything at all.
“I had to—I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. Then, biting his lip harder than he’d meant to—the metal piercing dug into it painfully—he added, more softly, “I’m really sorry.”
You remained firm in your position and really started to resemble a statue. Contrary to what he expected, you didn’t ask him a single question. You just stared at him without any distinct emotion in your eyes.
He didn’t know what to do.
“Aren’t you,” he said shakily, “going to say anything?”
You finally moved—to inhale, then exhale. All through it, your chin was turned up as you looked at the line of trees in the distance.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” you finally said.
It was a sharp knife to his chest, this hollow voice that was supposed to belong to you.
He hung his head and took a deep breath.
None of this mattered.
It was over.
“You’re drunk,” you added then. “Go to sleep.”
He thought he caught a glimpse of sympathy in your words and he grasped at this flimsy straw and held onto it with all his might.
“Y-you heard me, though, right?” he tried, his voice desperate, eyes watery. “None of it was for the bet, I really—”
“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”
He couldn’t go to sleep, not if it meant he’d have no one to wake up to.
“Can I—” He coughed, the words catching on the sandpaper in his throat. “Can I talk to you in the morning?”
You stayed silent for a long, almost never-ending minute. Jungkook counted each second in his head, and he knew he might have messed up the numbers at least three times, but it still felt like you’d never speak again.
“I don’t think,” you finally said, “we have anything left to talk about.”
You turned around, but stopped for less than a moment, seemingly hesitating when you heard him call your name. Then you took another step and opened the door of the bus, climbing inside and leaving him here alone.
This wasn’t the first time you walked away from him, but this time, he knew it was his fault.
And there was another element to the suffocating grip around his neck—ever since you began to manage Rated Riot, you’d never left him alone when he was drunk.
But you left him tonight.
And even drunk, he knew what it meant.
He thought he’d prepared himself for this. But the sight of your back as you walked away from him, the sound of the bus door as it clicked shut behind you, and the feeling of complete silence around him at the truck stop—it all finally knocked all the oxygen out of his lungs. It made his heart beat faster, ridding his bloodstream of alcohol until all that he felt was pain.
He was not prepared for this. He doubted he ever could have prepared for it.
But he should have known this would happen.
He really fucked up. He ruined everything. It was over.
Hunching over as he tried to inhale but couldn’t, Jungkook pressed his hand to his chest. He felt something pulsating under his fingers, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Someone had emptied out the cavity inside of him where his organs had once been and filled it with rocks.
His vision was white and blurred. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand.
He didn’t know what was happening to him.
He felt himself slide over the side of the bus until he hit the floor and smacked his head into the bus wall as violent tremors took over his body. He tried to breathe as he counted the beats of his heart until he couldn’t listen to his pulse whispering the same conclusion to him over and over again.
It was over.
It was over.
It was over.
It was—
His hand dug into the gravel on the ground, then grabbed the front of his shirt and held it in a tight fist. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Nothing worked to stop the relentless judgment from breaching his resistant mind.
He ruined everything. It was over.
Jungkook didn’t know how long he struggled to fill his lungs with something other than the heavy, opaque pain of losing you again.
He didn’t know why he struggled, nothing even mattered anymore.
When he eventually realised that he was still here and you still weren’t, there was an early morning redness in his eyes and on the edges of the sky above him.
Most unusually, the only clear thought in his head was about the bike that he’d told Minjun he would return. Another promise that he had failed to keep as he suddenly remembered abandoning the motorcycle by the bar.
Then he remembered the bar.
He had already drunk half of it.
He struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, and went back to finish the other half.
chapter title credits: bad omens, “what do you want from me?”
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Dressing for revenge [K. B]
Kaz Brekker x fem!reader
word count: 7k
summary: when Kaz and his crows return from Ravka they run into trouble, and to solve it, he looks for a childhood friend who is too resentful and too in love with him
warnings: trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, no physical contact, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej
A/N: I LOVE Kanej, but I wanted to write something with Kazzle Dazzle because I love him too, lol. I hope you like it!
taglist (who I thought might be interested): @rustyyyyspoonz
The rumor had already spread throughout the Barrel: “Kaz Brekker and his crows are back” How long had it been since they had embarked into the Fold? Just a couple of months? They had felt like years, if you were being honest.
If it was true that they were back, you felt sorry for the trouble they were going to run into. The change of ownership of their club, the strengthening of the other gangs, and mainly the fact that they were being tried for murder thanks to the fact that Pekka Rollins had awarded it to them... all these problems were going to fall on them like a bucket of water cold. It had already fallen on them, in fact, since the rumor was accompanied that they had escaped from the stadwatch once they were captured.
You didn't know how much of what everyone was saying was true and how much was false, trying to stay as calm as possible when the name Kaz came from someone's lips for fear that Pekka had some magical ability and could read your mind or sense the fear in your eyes every time you met him. Afraid of him and afraid of what he might do to you if he knew you knew the black-haired man.
Things had changed a lot since the last time you saw the boy and that was more than noticeable. Your story goes back long before he made his reputation when you were just a couple of neighbor kids playing on the farms. You two arrived in Ketterdam together, with nothing but hopes for a better future and Jordie as your protector (or an attempt at that, at least), after your father and Mr. Rietveld died in the same accident, reuniting with Kaz’s mother and later to be matched by your mother, who had died of sadness, if that was possible. Three helpless children thrown into the cruel world were what came of that and the rest is history.
Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boy’s plans.
Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.
You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.
You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.
Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.
If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.
You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.
In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?
One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.
When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasn’t what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.
“Did I arrive at a bad time?” he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.
“Someone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floor” you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.
"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.
When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.
“So the rumors are true…” you started to say “You are back”
"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.
There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.
“And may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have tea” you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.
"I'm in a job and I need people"
Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.
"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."
"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.
“Because it happens that you can’t work for opposing sides. At least not at the same time” you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldn’t be on Pekka’s side and therefore a safe option.
“Do you work for Pekka?” he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look “After all he did to us?”
"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us “You practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."
"I didn’t hand you over to anyone"
"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. “Your vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I made” you exclaimed defensively.
You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.
"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."
"And risk him finding out and killing me?"
“You know that would never happen,” he said firmly “The thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow him” his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.
"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for"
"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"
"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest.
It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kaz’s treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friend’s abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him ‘friend’.
"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"
"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same time”
"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard “I'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for… with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chest”
"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of… which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery “You've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?”
He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills.
"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"
“So my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,” you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.
"If someone should make him pay, it's us"
Us, again.
"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"
You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said he’d manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.
“First thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,” he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it “Don't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will suffice”
“What if someone tracks down the note?” you asked, which was a totally valid concern.
Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.
“Just write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understand” he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."
And then he left.
That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.
You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little ‘from a friend’ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you weren’t referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.
All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didn’t exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.
You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.
You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.
"Who are you?"
"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.
“She is Y/N,” said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, “she will work with us”
"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your service”
"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.
"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.
There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.
“Brick by brick” whispered the man’s raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.
"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.
You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.
After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.
You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.
Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.
You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.
One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.
“You mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?”
"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.
When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.
You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.
"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together “You're fine. We all are,” you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.
You didn’t receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.
“Now can we go back to normal?” Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.
"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.
Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.
It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.
With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.
"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.
"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.
Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.
“Your pay will be ready soon”
"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.
You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kaz’s room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.
"Your girl, did she leave?"
“Inej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free now” he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.
"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves it” you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."
"She is"
"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.
"I think so," he said without much interest.
"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.
"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Mhm"
"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: “Not like right now, but a long time ago. It's just… I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me… you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then… we just drifted apart,” you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence “Sometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eaten” you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymore” you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.
He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed.
"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"
You stopped.
“You told him many things, you will have to be more specific”
"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apart”
You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.
"I still don't understand how that relates to me” you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.
"I didn't want…" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous “I didn't want you to be…”
"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"
"It is not?"
"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"
You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.
“I had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,” he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.
“And did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. “You don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully alive”
He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.
“Okay, just… listen” you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer “I know it's hard to live as we do— as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust me”
"I do. I trust you"
"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen “Friends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left alone”
You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.
"And if it's too late?"
It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.
But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldn’t leave his throat.
“It's not for me,” you assured him. “But my patience won't last forever. I think you should know that”
You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.
You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:
“Stay,” he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. “I don't know what to say, but… just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonight”
Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.
You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.
"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasn’t wrong, it was very comfortable.
The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.
The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.
It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.
Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight.
"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.
Silence reigned in the darkness.
You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.
"Thank you. For everything”
The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.
You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.
Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.
And like every time this had happened, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.
#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#the crows#six of crows#jesper fahey#inej gafha#wylan van eck#nina zenik#mathias helvar#shadow and bone#shadow and bone netflix#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker fanfic#kaz brekker imagine
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I WANT SOME CAKE, AND IM NOT TALKING THE SWEET .
husband! gojo x black! baker! wife! reader x customer! geto
synopsis — when your best customer comes into your shop, your husband feels the need to share, just so your oh so best customer can see what he’s missing out on.
cw; food play, threesome, jealous gojo, ass eating?? awkward/ nervous geto in a way, semi-public sex, fluff to smut to fluff, my smut writing abilities aren’t the best so bare with me!!
you were in the back of the shop when you heard the bell over your shop door ring, signifying someone was here. “i’ll be there in just a second! take a moment to read over our menu if you’d like!” you call from the back. “ahh, i already know what’d i’d like.” you heard geto call from the counter. geto was one of your most loyal customers. he’d been one of your first clients to come to your shop when it first opened. you were a one man show, baking, icing, commercials, you name it. you met your husband gojo just two years after you’d created the shop, ten years in running and seven years of being married.
you basically ran from your spot in the kitchen to the counter. “geto! i haven’t seen you in a while. where ya’ been at?” you ask, crossing your arms on the counter and leaning forward. “y’know, around. met this girl and i’m talkin’ to her i guess.” geto shrugs, looking at the menu as if he didn’t get the same thing every time. “ooo, i see. are you gonna order or just stare like you don’t get the same thing every time?” you laugh, geto blushing at your bubbly smile. “yeah yeah. you know what i get. i’ll get a cinnamon bun with a glass of strawberry lemonade.” geto whispers, almost embarrassed of what he looks like ordering something so girly.
“comin’ right up.” you smile, walking into your kitchen. your husband walks into the shop with his arms open. “hey!” he smiles, everyone in the shop saying their hellos back. “in the back!” you alert your husband, who was making his way to geto. “hey.” gojo mumbles, picking food out his teeth. “hey. y/n’s in the back making my cinnamon roll.” geto replies, stretching. you stand in the back packing up geto’s cinnamon roll in a styrofoam box. you put his strawberry lemonade in a cup, a cute pink straw to compliment it. you walk to the front, looking at your husband and your best friend standing awkwardly next to each other.
“five twenty six.” you smile, handing geto his treat. geto grabs his wallet and hands you a ten dollar bill. “keep the change. i’ll be back later, yeah?” geto smiles, taking his cinnamon roll and drink and walking out. “see you later!” you wave goodbye, putting the 10 dollars in your cash register. “ain’t he the charmer?” gojo mumbles, walking behind the counter with you. “ah, he’s just generous like that.” you shrug. watching five more customers walk up to the counter.
“hello! i’m y/n, what can i get for you?” you smile, discarding of your old gloves and putting on new ones. gojo watched you as your customers ordered, your bright smile never faltering. “want help?” gojo asks, peering down at you. “i would appreciate it.” you grin, walking to the back. gojo washes his hands and puts on his own pair of gloves. your husband watches as you walk around the kitchen, staring at your ass.
“jesus, baby. might have to close shop early. those shorts look too good on you.” gojo teases, grabbing plates and a few styrofoam boxes to put the food in. “gojo! they can hear you y’know.” you roll your eyes playfully. “oh well, let them hear about how hot my wife is.” gojo snickers, smiling at your playful banter. “being hot won’t get any customers.” you say, putting a batch of cookies in the oven. “oh yes it will..” gojo grins, taking a few cups and straws.
“mhm…” you hum, leaning on the sink while the cookies baked. “y’know that geto guy…” gojo started, sighing. you let out a little laugh, grabbing a cup from gojo’s hand. “what about him?” you ask, watching the ice cubes fall into the cup. “uhhh, what’s his deal? is he dating someone orrrr…” gojo asks, turning to you. you shrug your shoulders and sigh. “yeah, he said he’s talking to this girl. i’m proud of him, actually. he’s been stuck on me for a while. i’m glad he can move on.” you smile. you realize gojo’s face falters a bit, him shifting on the balls of his feet.
“hm.” gojo hums. you open up the oven and take the cookie out with a mitten, hissing at the feeling of the heat through the mittens. “what’s wrong now?” you roll your eyes, looking over at him. “it’s just…he had a crush on you and you’re still friends with him?” gojo asks, his face scrunched up. “i mean, it was a while ago. i’m just glad he found someone else.” you shrug your shoulders, placing a few of the cookies into a plastic bag. “i see.” gojo mutters.
you walk out the kitchen to give your customers their orders, then happily taking them and paying you. “well, that’s the last of the day.” you smile to gojo, who was following behind you. “if you help me clean you can get a present afterwards.” you whisper, rubbing your thighs together. “is that so?” gojo whispers back, leaning over you. “mhm.” you hum, pressing a kiss to his lips. “but firssttt, cleaning.” you grin, handing gojo a broom. he groans and then smiles at you, grabbing your face with one hand to press a kiss to your lips one last time. “alright, ma’am.” gojo says, walking into the main entrance and starts sweeping. you grabbed a pair of gloves and started cleaning your counter and washing a few dishes. once you and gojo were both finished, you both plopped into one of the booths.
“hard day, huh sweetheart?” gojo asks, pulling you closer to him. “very. had more customers than usual lately. might have to start hiring…” you reply, fumbling with the hem of gojo’s shirt. “mmm…i can always help you, baby. i can always take some time off.” gojo suggests, rubbing your thigh. “no, no. your job is more important than mine.” gojo’s face scrunched up at this, a disapproving sigh falling from his lips. “nonsense. i am proud to say that my wife has one of the most successful bakeries in the city.” he smiles, pulling you onto his lap. gojo starts to kiss at your collarbone, looking up at you as your head lolls back in ecstasy.
“‘m gonna take you right here, yeah? is that okay with you?” gojo breathes out against your neck. you let out an airily laugh and a barely audible “yeah” and gojo starts to unbutton your shorts, unzipping them. you help gojo by shimmying out of them, your white lacy panties now soaked. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart.” gojo compliments, reaching around under your shirt to unhook your bra. you watch as gojo starts to take your shirt off, you raising your arms to make it easier. gojo sits you on the table, admiring your body. “my wife is so pretty…” gojo whines to himself, letting his hands roam around your body.
“gojo…” you mewl, arching your back. “i’m right here, baby…” he responds, pressing kisses down your stomach. “t-this isn’t sanitary…” you mumble, seeing gojo let out a chuckle. “it’s alright. we’ll be sure to clean it real good afterwards.” gojo smirked, pulling your panties aside. gojo pressed open mouthed kisses to your cute pussy, his nose nudging your clit. your hand moves to the back of his head, forcing the lower half of his face into your pussy. “that’s it, baby…fuckkk!” you moan,your thighs clenching against his head. gojo patted the inside of your thighs, signaling for you to open your legs. you whined and open up a little bit more, gojo running his hands along your thigh.
your sighs and moans eventually got louder, taking over you and gojo’s ears. which is why neither of you heard he shop door being opened. “y/n, that cinnamon-“ geto was cut off by the sight of you two, his lips pursing together. he lets out a nervous sigh, him feeling blood rush down to his dick. “shit, baby!” you moan, arching your back. “‘m gonna cum!” you warn gojo, your head falling to where the shop door was. geto’s eyes widened, him choking back a gasp. you eventually came with a groan. “shit, gojo…” you laughed, opening your eyes. your eyes widened at the sight of geto. “shit! hey!” you greeted geto in the least flustered way you could muster.
“uhh, i get it’s a bad time, sorry.” geto apologizes, putting his hands up in defense. geto turns on his heel, about to walk out the door before gojo let out a laugh. “stay. i wouldn’t mind sharing.” gojo laughs, looking at you. “would you mind, sweetheart?” you take a few moments, looking at the two men. “not at all…” you smile. “perfect.” gojo picks you up and walks you into the break room, laying you on the pink couch that you put in there. “cmon in, big boy.” gojo coaxes geto into the room. geto can feel his dick straining against his pants, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of you with your tits out and your legs open wide.
geto stalks closer to you, hovering over you and slotting a knee between your legs. “you’re so pretty…” geto whispers, pressing kisses to your lips. gojo smirks and leaves the room, walking into your little kitchen and opening the fridge door. he grabs the whipped cream and shakes it up a bit, putting a dollop in his mouth and walking back to you and geto. gojo places the whipped cream on the side of the couch, geto pulling away when he saw gojo’s feet. geto looks up at him, his breath getting heavier. “jesus. you’re such a dog, aren’t you?” gojo mocks, forcefully moving geto from on top of you and putting you on all fours on the couch.
gojo sits behind you while geto sat in front of you, geto only in his boxers. “hand me that, yeah?” gojo asks, pointing to the whipped cream. geto grabs it and hands it to gojo. he puts a mound of whipped cream on the small of your back. you let out a little “oh” at the feeling. gojo brings a hand down and smears it along your ass, some of it getting between your ass cheeks. “don’t just stare. shove your dick down her throat.” gojo says to geto. geto’s eyes widen and he takes his boxers off, his dick hitting almost above his bellybutton. you look up at geto, arching your back and grabbing his dick with two hands.
gojo is still behind you eating your ass, the whipped cream making it even more sweet. “shit..” you moaned on geto’s dick. he bucked his hips up at the feeling, mumbling out “sorry”’s. geto’s hand tangled into your hair, pushing you down farther onto his dick. you coughed and sputtered a bit, still taking him in your mouth. “ah shit…” gojo mutters, pulling away from your ass to rub your clit a bit. “that’s it…” gojos smiles. geto cums into your mouth with a groan. “mhmmm…” you moan, rolling your eyes back. you pop off of his dick and smile at him, kissing along his abs. “come get a taste, yeah?” gojo asks, looking at geto. gojo and geto switch places. now you and gojo are facing each other with you sitting on geto’s face.
“you’re so pretty, baby.” gojo smiles, pressing kisses to your lips. you hold onto gojo’s thighs while grinding on geto’s face. “thank you, baby…” you moan, kissing him back. the kisses are sloppy and wet, sounding almost identical to the sound of geto eating you out. “oh my god..” geto moaned into your ass, his hands grabbing at your ass cheeks. “m gonna cum again..” you warn geto, grinding even harder. “cum baby.” gojo whispered in your ear. you came with a loud moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. “oh shitttt…” geto moaned from under you. you rode out your high for a minute, letting out pants and whines. gojo picked you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist.
“you can go now. hope you didn’t think i was gonna let you stay.” gojo smirked. geto pursed his lips together, standing up and scurrying out the shop.
“i really wanna know what he thought about the cinnamon roll.”
TAGLIST ; @looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @chinaza444 @baboon-milk333 @marcelineormars @mxspiderman2099 @ts1mp0ne @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @spiderheartzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie @tourbug @anikaluv @mainvamp @strawberryshortcake143 @spectr3inl0ve @anitatvd @yuckyygutz @janaeby @milesmoralesesposa @lily-pythonz @naijagrl @ninaaaazzzz @sucuretcannelle @captaincyberqueen @cafehyunji @gtsflawless @v1rtu4lsworld
reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3
#myatalks🫡#black reader#blkshoyo#im black#i love being black#ilovemyfollowers#ilysm <3#myaas mutuals#anime#being black#geto x reader#geto x gojo#geto x y/n#geto x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x black!reader#gojo x geto#gojo x black reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#jjk x black reader#jjk x reader#jjk x black!reader#jjk x poc!reader
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The Wonderful Way Things Change
A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!
Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.
Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)
Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.
He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.
But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.
Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.
So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.
“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.
Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.
“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.
“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.
“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”
“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.
You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.
“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.
You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”
You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”
“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.
“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.
“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.
“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.
Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.
“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.
“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”
Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.
He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.
“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.
But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.
He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.
You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.
“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.
“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.
“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.
“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”
You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.
“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.
You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.
“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”
“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”
Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.
“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.
“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.
He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”
And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”
You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.
He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”
“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.
#hey I'm back#with daredevil smut#what else did you expect#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fanfiction#matt murdock smut#daredevil x you#daredevil x reader#daredevil smut#daredevil fanfiction
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everything i was looking for
nanami kento x reader
summary: when nanami became a salaryman, jujutsu wasn't the only thing he left behind. four years later, he's got his job back and he wants you back too.
w/c: 1.5k
tags/warnings: angst to fluff. hurt/comfort. gender neutral reader. reader's hair is long enough for nanami to tuck behind their ear. cursing.
a/n: it's about time i wrote something for this man. we get to see baby nanami animated soon:')
masterlist
"he left, (y/n)."
you laughed apprehensively at gojo's words, though the expression on his face was anything but amused. honestly, it might have been the first time you'd ever seen the boy wear a serious expression and it made you nervous.
"well when is he coming back?"
a look of pity crossed his features as he searched for the right words, but that itself was enough for you to understand the situation.
"so what?" you scoffed in disbelief. "he's just gone?"
gojo nodded. "he asked me to tell you."
you tried to speak, but you could feel your throat tightening as your body flooded with panic. you needed to reach your dorm before the weight of the situation hit you in its entirety. "o-okay. i'll see you later, gojo."
~~~
though it seemed like a lifetime had past since that afternoon, it'd been only four years. you spent each of them attempting to move on from nanami, but you were beginning to think that it may never happen.
he still appeared in your dreams and some nights, it was like nothing changed. you're eating lunch together in the shade, or you've snuck off to the forest to lay in one another's arms.
other nights were much different, a time spent plagued by his disappearance. you'd be stuck in the first few days of his absence, your only saving grace the coolness of your old dorm's bathroom tile.
it was after a night like the latter that you first heard the former salaryman intended to return, and at once, you resolved to spend the rest of your life hiding away from him and everyone else on the jujutsu campus. that was healthy and realistic, right?
you were successful for nearly a week, but luck would not stay on your side forever.
~~~
when nanami approached the school after completing his first mission back, there was a chill in the air and the moon was already setting. he carried on rather slowly, not quite ready to submit to sleep despite the lateness of the hour. his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by the time he reached the familiar paths of his youth.
still, he almost missed your silhouette tucked away near the edge of the forest, your back toward him and your face tilted up at the sky. he could barely make you out, but even then, he was sure it was you.
nanami began moving in your direction, his footsteps drown out by the trill of crickets. he stopped short of where you sat because despite the fact he'd been wanting to see you since he arrived, he was hesitant to disturb you now.
he asked gojo about you and was promptly told to give you some space and time. you didn't see what they were like when you left. the warning had been rattling around his head ever since.
"hey," you greeted without moving, having sensed his presence for some time already. you were resigned to your fate, accepting that you couldn't avoid him forever.
nanami didn't answer right away, struggling to get a read on your mood when it used to be so easy. his feet carried him closer and while he was finally beside you after all these years, the space between you felt immeasurable.
"hey," he returned, settling on the ground to your right, near enough that if he reached out he could touch you.
observing your features, he could tell how much you'd changed, but god you still looked so beautiful. that didn't change the fact that you'd hardened somehow. it was written all over your face and he suddenly found it difficult to cope with the fact he hadn't been there for you the past few years.
"you're back."
nanami reached up to loosen his tie, the fact that you hadn't spared him a glance evoking his nerves. "and you're still here."
"i never doubted that i was supposed to be," you spoke sharply.
he fought back a sigh, one that was directed only at himself, while you regarded his silence as a bit grating. maybe it was because you no longer felt comfortable in it. he'd always been quiet and you were used to that, but things were different now.
"i should go."
and he let you, for the first few meters anyway.
"wait," he eventually called out, scrambling off the ground. "d-don't walk away."
you laughed in disbelief, still taking strides in the opposite direction. "you can't be serious."
"please, (y/n)." his tone was one of desperation.
"no!" you stopped in your tracks and he was taken back by the volume of your voice. you finally turned to face him, fists clenched at your sides. "i may be walking away, but you're the one who left."
chest heaving with indignation, you took in his appearance for the first time.
he stood much taller and his body was a bit wider. your eyes lingered on his hair, now much shorter and neatly pushed back out of his face. you felt betrayed by the way it made your stomach stir.
"i'm sorry, just let me-" he began, taking a step toward you.
"stay back," you spit venomously. "you... you don't get to ask me to stay and you don't get to tell me you're sorry when you didn't even let me say goodbye!"
your voice cracked, causing nanami's knees to buckle under the pressure of his own guilt. he tried to get closer to you and this time you stayed completely still, preoccupied with a sad attempt at holding yourself together. when he was near enough, he reached out and let his fingers graze your arm.
"please don't," you begged.
he whispered your name, his voice thick with emotion, and that was all it took for your walls to come crumbling down. the sound of your cries shattered whatever remained of nanami's heart, though he'd left most of it behind all those years ago.
his arms acted on their own accord when they pulled you against his body, one hand holding your head to his chest, the other wrapped around your torso. he still smelled the same.
"no, please," you wept. "i can't do it again."
you beat weakly against his chest, but it was no use. he held you against himself tightly, his lips brushing the top of your head when he spoke.
"it's okay. i'm here," he tried to comfort you.
your voice sounded so small when you gathered the strength to reply. "please don't do this to me, ken."
nanami wondered for a moment if this was wrong, if he should have left you alone or just never have come back at all. the thought was fleeting though. he knew he had to make this right.
"i left because i was trying to find purpose through my work and... i... i couldn't see you because i knew you were the only person who could've convinced me to stay. i didn't see how wrong that was back then."
he heard you sniffle and let out a shaky breath, so he pulled away just enough to gather your face in his hands, your hair lacing through his fingers. you held one another's gaze and somehow it was the most content either of you had been in a long time.
"i'm sorry," he professed earnestly, looking down at you with regretful eyes.
"it's- it's okay." the words tumbled passed your lips before you could stop them.
"no, it's not. but i hope you'll give me a chance to make it up to you. to make it better."
you nodded almost imperceptibly, but other than that, neither of you moved. a breeze swept between the two of you and nanami tucked a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.
it was strange, perhaps even a bit unfair, that after so much time, after everything he'd done, there was no where you'd rather be than here with him. your hands found their way to his chest, the space there broader than it used to be.
"i love you," he murmured.
terrified you wouldn't say it back, he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was slow but not without fervency and the small noise that escaped his throat had you pulling him closer.
it was intoxicating to him, the way you felt against him, the softness of your lips, and the warmth that emanated from your skin.
even so, everything about him was impossibly gentle. nanami pulled away first, scanning your face for any hint of dismay.
"i love you, ken."
feelings of relief and responsibility overwhelmed him in tandem. he'd thought about you saying those words every day for four years and he knew he didn't deserve to hear them now. not yet.
nonetheless, you found yourself enveloped in his arms once more as he pressed a kiss to your head.
"everything i was looking for... i had it here with you all along."
#m!writes#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento imagines#nanami#nanami x reader#nanami imagines#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk imagines
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the first time you and bokuto met, you guys were ten. you had just moved to tokyo and your mom got a job at the same place bokuto's mom worked. they became friends almost instantly, and once they realized they had children the same age, a play date was set immediately.
contrary to popular belief, you guys didn't get along well at all. bokuto was a stubborn child; he wanted to be outside playing volleyball with his friends, and the idea of having to stay inside to acquaint himself with a little girl that probably didn't know a thing about the sport seemed catastrophic.
he was right after all — you didn't know (or even care) about bokuto's treasured sport, and you were just as fond of being there as he was. you'd give anything to be at home, burying your face in some mangas, or playing piano.
you fought like cats and dogs the first four years after you guys met, both at school and outside of it, since your houses were close and your families were even closer. unfortunately, keeping a distance was just never an option.
the first time you and bokuto had ever gotten along (if you could even call it that), was when you turned fifteen. bokuto was invited to your party by default, as well as everyone in your homeroom class by your mother's request, nevermind the fact that you got along with hardly any of them.
you had just finished helping yours and bokuto's mom in the kitchen with prepping the food, and made your way back to the living room to check on your guests.
you froze in place once you caught them grouping around your piano, realizing that you forgot to put away your piano books.
you've always been big in the arts, but piano was your thing. you liked to think of yourself of a composer of sorts, writing sheet music and occasionally adding a few lyrics.
you would've thought you might have learned from a similar incident a few years ago, when you caught bokuto reading through your sheet music. though he never said anything — never hinted at any emotion at all — you still ended up a sobbing mess.
this however, was very different. they were snickering and laughing, pointing at the lyrics and your 'odd penmanship', trying to make out the words on the paper. you felt the tears swelling up in your eyes already, your hands trembling as you find yourself glued in place.
before you could even blink, a familiar figure's shoving past you into the room, and you watch as bokuto snatches the sheet music from the boy holding them.
he laughs then, snickering at bokuto before looking over at you. "hey, y/n, did you write all this bull—"
there is a fist colliding with his nose in less than half a second.
all the girls shriek and shove at each other as they back away from the commotion, screaming as bokuto scrambles on top of the boy, maintaining the upper hand from the very beginning.
you watch them fight, bokuto sporting a split lip and bruised fists as his mother runs in and yanks him off of the boy, your mother rushing in behind his to assess the situation.
you're utterly confused, even more so once he turns to find your eyes, and the side of his lip quirks up into a lopsided smirk.
later once everyone leaves and situation was managed and dealt with, you find yourself staring once again, as he takes a cotton ball to his bloody lip, and runs his fists under the tap.
once he turns off the water and looks up to address you, you catch sight of that intoxicating smile yet again, and you don't even need to ask anything. bokuto can read the question right off your face.
"can't have anyone else reading the songs you write about me now, can we?"
what if i turned this into a short written series, the five years of bokuto and y/n as enemies until this happens and everything changes?
composed
#—joylovesyou#—joyisromantic#—joysministuffs#no proof read we die like men#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader fluff#bokuto#bokuto koutaro#bokuto fluff#bokuto x reader#bokuto x reader fluff#bokuto kotaro#bokuto kōtarō#bokuto drabble#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu drabble
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I MADE A SYNOPSIS AND A SONG LIST FOR THE HYPOTHETICAL FNAF MUSICAL (Well, the first draft, I'll probably change some minor story stuff later)
Edit 20/04/2024: Read the second draft instead!
Act I is really similar to the actual lore of FNAF up to the MCI, but Act II is when things diverge.
(Actual synopsis text under cut, had the song list too but it wouldn't let me post with it, I'll try again later)
Synopsis
ACT I
William and Henry meet and create Fredbear's, and later Freddy Fazbear's, and both of their families are introduced (The Spark). Then, it shows the current year of 1983. While William wanted to expand further, Henry was content. Dealing with already existing jealousy plus this new anger, he murders Charlotte to keep him in line (Mine, Forever). Everybody except for Henry moves on from Charlotte's murder, and William continues as normal until his youngest son's birthday (The Birthday). The day seemed to be good for everyone involved. However, due to a prank by Michael and his friends, his head is crushed by Fredbear and he later dies. Charlotte, who was now possessing the Puppet animatronic made to protect her, gives him life inside the Fredbear animatronic. Fredbear's closes because of this, and William scolds Michael harshly (The Bite).
Following this, William and Henry have much more frequent arguments, so does the former and his wife, until she disappears. William spends more of his time at Freddy Fazbear's, where he feels the atmosphere has changed. He then investigates the Puppet, finally understanding that her soul was inside the animatronic. Meanwhile, Michael and Elizabeth become closer together as William spends less and less time at home (Agony). William spends the next year and a half studying, finally creating a plan to recreate the events of Charlotte's murder. With this in mind, he decides to go and take the lives of four more children, Elizabeth overhearing the entire thing (Follow Me)
ACT II
Everybody in town hears about the murders by morning, and Clay starts investigating the situation. He suspects William as the murderer (Eye of the Hurricane). Freddy's closes down. At the Afton house, Elizabeth tells Michael everything that she overheard and the two of them look into all of William's stuff while he was away. Their suspicions are found to be correct (Daddy's Show). They then flee once he returns home. William goes to the room and unveils his hidden experiment: a rabbit animatronic for himself to become. He then decides he needs more Remnant, but knows he can't collect any while Clay suspects him. A few days pass and Jen visits Henry and convinces him to leave Freddy's behind for his sake (Until The End). However, after she leaves, Henry finds a letter telling him to go there. At the restaurant, William plans to murder him and frame it as a suicide done out of guilt to clear his name (Follow Me (Reprise)). Michael steals William's car and goes to Fredbear's with Elizabeth, wanting to find more answers there. They discover Fredbear possessed by their brother, and realise they need to find his father.
Henry meets William, who tells him everything then attacks him. Before he can give him the finishing blow, however, his kids appear to stop him. William talks to them, but Michael sees through his ruse (You Can't.). Clay reveals himself, telling Elizabeth and Michael go outside, where they find Fredbear. Elizabeth brings him to the other animatronics, where they move on (Happiest Day). William fights Clay, and Henry stands. He takes Clay's gun and shoots William's leg, allowing Clay to arrest him before becoming weak (Mine, Forever (Reprise)). He, Mike and Elizabeth say their goodbyes. Later, the town closes the case and moves on from the tragedies. After Henry heals, Freddy Fazbear's is remade into a new space for children with the help of Elizabeth and Michael. William's place is gone through and the rabbit suit is demolished to make the sign. (Save Them).
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf au#fnaf musical au#theatrics at freddy's au#william afton#henry emily#michael afton#mike afton#elizabeth afton#clay burke#jen emily#jenny emily#mci#fnaf missing kids#charlotte emily#charlie emily
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REPOSTOBER, day 22: the Champion of Cyrodiil (2015-2017)
TW! this post has some TES-headcanons which might not be everyone's cup of tea, but please, don't judge a woman by her headcanons lmao
Here he is, my weird lil man.
His mom worshipped Mephala and almost sacrifised her own newborn child to the Ebony Blade, but his father managed to steal the baby and hide him in Skyrim. Cero was raised in the orphanage (YES, THAT Orphanage) being bullied by the nord children for being, well, an elf.
Many years later, Cero became a gladiator in the Imperial City Arena, and this is pretty much where his story begins.
He starts off as a man, who kill people for money at the start of the game, and being an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood doesn't seem any difference, so he joins in.
Lucien, being the one who brought him into the family, fascinates him. Cero soon develops feelings towards the Speaker, which he describes like some sort of a spiritual bond. He can't fully express what exactly he feels (because he is being in denial), so he keeps his feelings to himself, before it is too late.
This was a breaking point for Cero, who was already traumatized by the Purification, so he cut his ties with Dark Brotherhood and excapes, using the chaos of the Oblivion Crisis. After the series of unfortunate events he becomes the one, who carried the Amulet of Kings and the one, who saved Martin in Kvatch. They soon become friends and Martin is the one who actually tries to make Cero a better person. And then Martin dies too.
Being ceverely depressed and traumatized by losing all the people he loved and who were actually nice to him in a quite short period of time, Cero starts drowning himself in alcohol. And at that very moment, the Dark Brotherhood finally show up and capture the man and take him to Bravil for a trial. He manages to excape.
And this is when the Shivering Isles storyline begins.
I wrote a bunch of fics (in russian) about Cero in the Shivering Isles, and in my AU he is literally possessed by Sheogorath who takes over his body and desperately try to fight back, and the main antagonist of the story is Haskill, who does everything so that Cero would lose himself and all his memories forever.
Eventually, he manages to take control of his own body for a few times, and one of them happened during the Skyrim timeline:
His body changed over time, he starts looking less than himself and more like Sheogorath: his hair and eyes gone white, his skin became pale and rosy, but he never actually ended up looking the way Haskill wanted him to look.
Somewhere after the Skyrim timeline his former self gets in control of his body again and gets in a fight with Haskill. Cero uses the sword of Jyggalag to snap the Staff of Sheogorath in two parts and finally breaks free.
He's memory is wague, his feelings are all messed up and he barely understand what is happening, the only thing that keeps him going is his lust for freedom.
And this is the point when the events of my Champion/Nerevarine AU begin.
Small bonus for everyone, who read it this far: Cero as Jyggalag.
And Cero with his lover - my Nerevarine Raelin, who was the first person he encountered when he finally broke free from the Shivering Isles, and the person who helped him regain all of his memories (she's also probably the only person in the universe who can handle this firce lil man).
And yes, Cero is actually his father's surname. The champion has a name, but the only person who knew his name was Martin.
#repostober#oblivion#the elder scrolls oblivion#champion of Cyrodiil#hero of kvatch#lucian lacnahce#sheogorath#martin septim#nerevarine#also yeah he is a closeted bisexual#he's a reflection of my own trauma at this point because I too lost a dear friend of mine in an accident#TW: the elder scrolls HEADCANONS
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Here’s that Danny Phantom fic that I started like two months ago. It’s mainly a crack fic treated seriously that I lost motivation to continue writing. I might come back to it later idk. Anyways ignore this hot mess of a fic as it just bounces around with no real plot lol
ignore any inaccuracies with dc comics or out of character writing this really is just a crack fic, definitely not beta read or proof read
404 - Title Not Found
Part 2 - Tumblr Part 3 - Tumblr
Ao3
Where to start with the Ghost King’s story? Most ghosts already knew at least a bit from hunting him down in his earlier years, way before he was able to clam the crown but now Clock Work was telling Danny that he could either make a mythos version or have the actual story of how a halfa became Ghost King, The Ruler of The Infinite Realms be told for as long as he ruled.
Out of all things that came with being Ghost King, he didn’t expect to be told to that he could mostly make up the story of how he even got to the crown.
Danny with the help of his sister and friends; made his story. It was mostly truth. How he defeated Phriah Dark, the many fights with ghosts and then calming the crown when he turned 18. There were parts that were completely fake. Mainly how he became a halfa. He didn’t want to have the portal accident be connected to him more than it was. He had accepted the way the accident would follow him around. Not just being the whole reason he was Phantom but the pain that still lingered.
When human, he would get shaky, phantom (no pun intended) pains all ever, along with some effects that were easier to manage. At first he didn’t understand the phantom pain, he still had all his limbs but after talking to Vald, who had surprisingly chilled out and stopped messing with Danny(for the most part), it had to due with the fact that he was dead. His whole body thought that one part was dead every other hour almost, sometimes the whole thing.
He had gotten used to it, well as much as he could. Obviously he had the mental side affects to deal with too. Sometimes he would nightmares of some of the more tougher fights. His friends and CW thought that the nightmares were because of Phara Dark and the portal accident. Of course some were but there others too. Mainly Spectra’s mosquito epidemic including the “hospital” and Nocturn.
Being stuck in what should be your desired reality along with everyone’s and seeing all your classmates including your own sister slowly become sick with some kind of ghost virus is the kind of shit that sticks with you. He tried to avoid most nightmares by staying in ghost form but just like when he would be forced to his human half from exughst in a fight; the same would happen with the more sleep he missed.
Sam once asked him if he blamed her for the accident. Of course, he didn’t. No one knew what could’ve happened. While he held no blame for Sam, he blamed himself sometimes when things got bad.
-
Today was like any other, do some basic royal stuff and then visit other realms/places in the human world to see how the ghosts that resided there were treated. He had gotten use to all the moving over the last few years. He typically loved going to other realms. It was a break for the most part. A break from being King, a break from being Phantom and a Fenton.
Though today was different. He was to visit Gotham, the city said to be alive itself. He lived there when he wasn’t in Amity or the ghost world but hadn’t been back in a while due to problems in Amity.
Living in gotham was an easy way to watch a lot of the dead that roamed there. Particularly a specific living dead who had came back a few years ago. Danny was supposed to see how the pit rage progressed and if it was still affecting years later. Danny had ask CW if he had to since the lazura pit had been around for quite awhile, didn’t they already know and because of the fact that it was creepy to basically stalk someone. He was just told that everything changes and it’s best to always double check.
Now he was invisible and moving through the shadows of Crime Alley. He watched the tops of buildings and alleys. He had chosen Crime Alley as a place to live when human. He knew that the living dead he was supposed to watch had claim over Crime Alley so it was easy to watch. He was careful to not interfere with any part of Crime Alley.
He would stop something if he saw it but knew not to mess with someone else’s haunt too much. Although Danny thought it was creepy, Red Hood was an interesting one to watch. Danny picked up on the fact that Red Hood liked Night Wing but disliked the Batman. Sure Danny could just figure out his identity but that a. be more creepy and b. that would ruin the fun.
But he had messed up when returning home after watching The Red Hood. He was in his human form when heading back to his apartment. He didn’t worry about how dangerous Crime Alley was. Of course he was a bit paranoid sometimes but not really.
One minute he was walking the next he was cornered in the alley next to the apartment complex. Apparently that got the attention of The Red Hood as when Danny started pushing the muggers away and was getting ready to fight; he appeared behind the them and scared the rest off.
Danny kinda just looked at him before saying thanks and quickly heading up the fire escape to his apartment. He wasn’t supposed to interact with the dead that he was meant to watch but now he could feel Red Hood’s eyes on him as he went through his window.
-
Jason usually knew who was following him but for some reason he couldn’t figure it out this time. He felt like he was being followed, he knew that he was. He had oracle check the cameras in Crime Alley but still nothing.
It annoyed him that he couldn’t figure it out. There was no rumors about any out of towners. It wasn’t till one night when he noticed someone fighting against some muggers in the alleyway of next to the apartment complex he lived in. He was about to stop his patrol for the night so why not end with scaring off muggers.
When all was said and done, he watched the man thank him and leave. Jason watched a bit too long as he saw him go into his apartment. He couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity with that man. Red hood left to the top of the apartment building. Yes he had multiple safe houses but he liked living in crime alley, more or less to stay away from the Bat.
#dc x dp#dpxdc#dp x dc#dead on main#not finished#fanfic#dp fanfic#jason todd#red hood#danny fenton#danny phantom#cross posted on ao3#crack fic#not serious#hot mess fic#ghost king danny#au#dp x dc crossover#404 - Title Not Found
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Sorry everyone, blog update…
After my last post I have taken the Tumblr app off all my devices, essentially cutting myself off from this blog completely. The weight that’s been lifted from my shoulders by doing that is… interesting.
Its led me to the realisation that I need a break from having thousands of people waiting for me to post, all the pings on my phone when I do, and the amount work involved with feeding a blog of this size. This has fuelling my self criticism, and with that bout of unkind messages echoing my own doubts recently, I've reached a critcal point which could just cause me to implode.
My decision for now is not to abandon or delete this blog, but I am going to put it on hold until I feel in a better place about myself and it. There are other things happening IRL that need my energy, I've hinted at this a few times already this year, and I can't juggle all these things as one woman.
In the mean time I will be focusing on other projects, in other communities outside of Tumblr, and I need to stop feeling guilty for wanting to do that! I am allowed to do what I want to do with my free time, without worrying what other people think of me. I’m hoping a change of setting, pace and focus will help refresh and reinvigorate me.
My inbox is staying closed and I won’t be checking DMs with any regularity, but I am still around on other platforms, just not this one. My taglist has been deleted, as it makes extra work for me for the sole benefit of other people. When I return, this blog will be about my own enjoyment again, not about pleasing everyone else which is what has brought me to this point.
To my lovely mutuals and regular commenters, I’m sorry if this seems ungrateful of me, but I can honestly say you’ve been what has kept me going here over the last few months. You are wonderful people and I love every single one of you. Thank you to everyone who left kind words on my last post, I have read every single one of them and was very touched.
For now, laters gators… or something less cringeworthy 🖤
#storm cat taking time off#I picked that gif because I feel like I am Price and everyone else represents my moots
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Tips for Moving Out for the First Time
I moved out of my parents house around 5 years ago and have since lived in four different apartments with four different combinations of roommates. And I’ve made a million mistakes. So if you’re thinking of moving out soon or have a move planned already, here’s just a few things you need to know:
1. Don’t mess with your lease
I cannot express this enough. The lease you sign is a serious legal contract. To break your lease is a genuinely big deal, and one that I didn’t take seriously enough in my first apartment. Listen, you may hear about your friends or other people sneaking in pets or an additional roommate that goes against what their lease says—I did this too, because people do it all the time and who cares as long as I pay rent on time? What started as my best friend and roommate bringing in her cat in our no-pets-allowed apartment ended in a very traumatic eviction, police involvement, and a permanent fissure in my friendship with my best friend.
Listen, I don’t want to scare you with all the gory details, but eviction is no small thing, and after that experience, I would never mess with my lease again. Even afterwards, I found landlords will always take the word of another landlord over yours. To get our next place we had to lie about our previous housing, give a fake name and number of our previous landlord, and in general it was incredibly difficult and stressful to get into a new place having to make up everything about our previous situation since we were in the wrong.
Please, don’t mess with your lease. The rules are the rules, and unfortunately landlords can make your life hell if you don’t follow them.
2. But seriously question it + know your tenant rights
On the topic of leases, read yours thoroughly to understand what rules are expected you follow, what it’s expected you’ll pay versus what’s included in the monthly rent, and when your contract begins and ends. Leases are packed full of important information, so don’t let anyone rush you through reading and understanding it, and it’s definitely a red flag if your landlord isn’t willing to talk or answer questions about it.
If your landlord told you that utilities are included in the rent, but your lease says it isn’t, question them! The lease is ultimately what rules you will follow, their word doesn’t mean much. If you need to change something, get it on paper, and don’t sign until you’re both happy with your contract.
Also do your research on your tenant rights in your city. What actions you can take if your landlord breaks your lease, what’s expected from your landlord in handling concerns of your suite/house, rent increases, what things a landlord can ask you about or not, and what is grounds for eviction (versus what they can't evict you for). Take notes for later in case you need them (but hopefully you won’t!)
3. Sign contracts with your roomies
I lived with a friend I kind of knew from school, my best friend, two best friends, and then a best friend and their friend, and no matter what my relationship to my roommates was, it was made 1 million percent better when we had a contract with each other, and had talked over and set specific rules for how we’d live together. People say don’t live with your best friends—I’d just say, don’t live with your best friends without a contract.
Sit down with your roomies, figure out who will do what chores and when, what the expectations are for sharing or not sharing groceries, cleaning supplies, dishes and other kitchen supplies, toilet paper, etc. etc., rules for having friends and partners over, noisiness, and any weird pet peeves you all have so you can avoid them with each other.
Put down everything you decide together on paper, and get everyone to sign it. It maybe seems extreme, but it’s better to do this right away than have to have a difficult and awkward conversation later about your roommate’s boyfriend who hasn’t gone home in three months and is driving up your grocery costs without adding anything to the household. Trust me on this one.
4. Get a job before you move out
Especially if you’re moving to a new city or far away from where you live currently, don’t assume you can move in first and then find a job later. Unless you have a lot of savings and you’re willing to lose it all if it comes to that, a job isn’t always guaranteed and rent money goes quick. To be safe and maintain trust with your landlord, job comes first.
(It’s also going to be a lot easier to get a place if you have a job first, landlords always ask about your work and earnings each month to make sure you’re a reliable tenant.)
I have a lot of experience in moving and finding apartments so if you want some more specific tips about actually getting a place, roommates, or anything else about the moving out process I’m happy to answer questions as best as I can! Just send em to my inbox or in the comment.
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