#if he wasn’t blind he’d have tried eyeliner
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Whatever you do, don’t picture college!Matt laying on his dorm room bed crying while listening to Here Without You by 3 Doors Down
#like with the necklace and college hair#come on that was peak angst#you know my boy had his peak punk rock awakening#if he wasn’t blind he’d have tried eyeliner#with those bangs??#bitch please#Matt Murdock x reader#college!matt Murdock
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No Doubts Anymore (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x You) [Dual POV]
WC: Almost 3k
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Not Beta-read.
Alternate ending where Simon didn't die, as requested by an anon!
Part 1
Deep, almost purple lines had been a permanent feature of your face, now. Where your eyeliner used to go, there are now tear lines extending from the corner of your eyes—a product of sleepless nights and unhealed grief.
Has it been four months now? Five? Hell, half a year? Time heals all wounds, they said, yet you wake up with more pieces tumbling out of your chest every day that sleep decides to grant you mercy.
Simon’s balaclava, all his bloody shirts that he used to wear, they lie pristine where you last kept them.
In a box, inside the closet.
For you fear the scent of him will disappear with every touch, every kiss upon his belongings.
But sometimes—like tonight—it gets unbearable.
Curled up on the mattress, bedsheets probably moulding in the dryer back when you had the sudden burst of energy to be productive, you took a rationed inhale of the skull balaclava in your arms.
The position was a pain to maintain. Yet, even that kind of pain was preferable. Maybe if you’re in enough physical pain, angry enough, drunk enough-
You’d said no to Price’s repeated recommendations to see a therapist, because how could he understand?
How could the man ever understand the irrational, undeserved hatred—that you’d tried to tell yourself off for—you had against him for having a hand in Simon’s death?
It was just one of the multiple poisons you’d let into your body. Hatred. Substance. Isolation.
“You’re supposed to get up, love. The bills are stacking up.”
And sometimes, like today, the ghost of him materialised to taunt you with an untouchable form. Sitting on his side of the bed—not even kind enough to make a dip on the mattress to tell you that he’s there—and talking you out of misery.
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten something? This is not how you move on.”
“I don’t want to move on! You left. You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye- I hate you. With all my heart, I hate you, Simon Riley.”
And, like clockwork, he disappeared into thin air.
***
It is over. He had kept up the ruse, going along with Price’s plan to pronounce several soldiers dead just so he can join a team of spies to infiltrate enemy bases and gather valuable intel.
So he spied, waiting things out until Price gave him the go-ahead to leave, knowing what was waiting for him at home; the state in which he’d left things at.
He didn’t want Price to drop his box onto your lap and let you know that he was dead. Because what use would it be for him to fight against hell, to keep the breath in his throat if it weren’t for the sake of coming home to your arms?
Still, he relented. And, for it to work,, he had to rid himself of every trace of you, just so there would be no connection linking him to his one and only pressure point.
But it’s over now, and God, he has a lifetime of apologising to do.
As soon as he reached his quarters, he knelt by the mattress he’d slept on many a night that he wasn’t able to spend besides you. He lifted it up, and under it—if one knows where to look—was a stitch where he’d taken a drag of his combat knife to before his mission, hid one item of yours he wasn’t strong enough to burn, and meticulously threaded the hole back together.
This time, his slice met with less resistance. He reached into the fillings and felt around, and, there-
He pulled out the glossy picture of you he used to keep in his wallet and brought with him to everywhere he could go.
He got it from the time he’d taken you out on the walk in mid-autumn, letting you pester him to try one of those seasonal drinks he used to care less about. There’s a photo booth right out of the cafe and, of course, you pulled him into it and took so many pictures he’d gone half-blind, but this picture wasn’t from that, no. When you were ordering the drinks, he came back out to the booth because he noticed there was an option to print his own picture from his phone.
He did his best to figure out how the fuck was he to connect his phone to sync up his gallery to it, but it worked eventually.
That damned machine ate almost thirty pounds off his wallet to print out his favourite pictures of you.
One where you were petting a dog. One where you were biting into a caramel apple. One where you had the most ridiculous foam mustache. And this one-
Where you were asleep, right next to him. An image of peace that he regrets not being able to bring you more.
Instinctually, he brought the picture to his chest, right where his heart still beat.
He’s coming home and making sure he treats you well for the rest of his life.
***
When he reached the flat, his spirit deflated, realising that it was empty.
Well, at least, that’s how it seemed from the outside. It was all dark, quiet. There was nothing that could indicate life within the walls of your home, until he heard soft, inconsistent sniffles behind the door, getting fainter and fainter the more you moved away from it.
Even though the key was in his hand, he figured it would be most sensible to knock. After all, you were under the impression that he was dead up until three days ago, when Price had hopefully relayed the actual news to you, giving you ample time to react.
Three classic knocks. No answer.
Another three. The sniffles had died down. Were you asleep?
After about five minutes of waiting, he finally decided to use the front door key.
It’s late, he thought, and you were probably comfortably sleeping.
Like he noticed from outside, the darkness bathed the entire space. Save for the dim glow from the battery-powered LED snow globe that doubled as your nightlight—signs that you were awake were minimal.
I’ll just crawl into bed and hold her, he thought, until an unpleasant smell wafted from the kitchenette.
The sequences of what greeted him? A miserable discovery.
Overflowing bins, unwashed plates. Spoiled food leaking out of the refrigerator and a full load of clothes were still in the dryer.
In truth, Simon had a feeling you’d fall into depression a week or two—a month maximum—before you moved on from his ‘death.’
It had been a year. Has this been your year? Falling into unkemptness when he never knew you to love clutter?
“Love?” He called out, softly, just in case you were really asleep. He tossed his belongings on the sofa unceremoniously—where he put his belongings were the last thing on his mind at the moment—before making his way to the bedroom.
The sight shushed his brain to a ringing silence.
In the middle of the room was the box of his military belongings, opened, its cover flapping against the opening at every oscillation of the standing fan in the corner of the room.
Two things were making sounds at that moment. The fan, supposedly comfortable white noise now an attack to his senses; you, struggling to get a breath in as you cried, hair matted and red sores visible on the sides of your hip.
“Fuck me- Love-” he immediately moved up to the side of the bed. You were facing the other way, curled up and hugging something close to your chest.
“It’s me, love, I’m back, I’m sorry,” words stumble out of his mouth in wasteful attempts. Not even managing to elicit a reaction out of you.
Hell, it took him almost a full five minutes of apologising before you even turned back to look at him.
And the first words that had come out of your lips?
“I hate you, and I wish I had never met you.”
***
Again, the vision of him came to torment you.
What is it this time? To tell you to air the room out? To drink more water?
Again, you tell him the words that would normally make him disappear.
“I hate you, and I wish I had never met you.”
It was like a spell that you had used to stop unwanted hallucinations—or so you thought. They always come back and it takes sleeping to finally stop some of the visions.
This one didn’t seem to budge. In fact, it answered! Maybe you need to take up Price’s offer for professional help.
“You don’t mean that, darling…” he spoke, face absent of the non-expression you were used to seeing in the figment of him that continues to visit you.
Of course, you don’t mean it. But how else would you deal with the fact that you’re slowly losing your mind? How else are you going to attempt to move-
The touch on your face is warm. Textured.
You can’t remember the last time you dreamt about being touched like that again, his hands brushing hair away from your face, and this time, oh, how cruel is it for it to feel this real?
How cruel, how evil?
With fresh tears and wobbly lips—your attempt at trying to hold on from simply breaking down—you whispered, “You never gave me the chance to say goodbye. Don’t you love me enough to even give me that, Simon? Am I not worth a single glance back, when we fought, when I asked you if the mission was more important than your life? Than us?”
The fight, your last memory of him, was unfortunately always the fight.
When you were uselessly clinging to him to not go because your inkling was proved true—it wasn’t a mission that he’ll come back from.
Even knowing that, he kept it to himself. You were to read and interpret his facial expressions and body language yourself, coming to your own realisation that he was given a death mission.
“I hate you,” you say again, “I don’t think I will be able to move on from you. Go away, please. Don’t haunt me anymore.”
Turning your back on him, the silence tells you that the vision had dissipated. A deep sense of regret fills you, intermingling with loss and guilt that tasted like bile in your throat.
You didn’t mean that; you didn’t mean to be mean. Maybe if you turn around and apologise, it could help ease the process. Maybe, maybe-
His sad eyes still stared down at you. It didn’t work.
Where his arms rested, the mattress dented.
“Do you mean it? Have I returned to find you hating me?”
***
He didn’t know if you’d even let him touch you, so his arms rested on the uncovered mattress and hoped for the best.
It sounded like you’ve developed venom for him. Rightfully so, given the way you ended things before he went off on the year-long mission.
Simon was not good at that, the talking part of a relationship. Despite how he presents himself, he still stuttered over his words and lost his speech when being in love occupied a big part of his brain—rendering any sort of poetic affection null. His body speaks for him most of the time.
“Am I losing my mind, or have the ghost of you taken on a physical form?”
The confusion in your face was apparently enough to put a pause on the sobs. You hadn’t an idea how relieved he is at the lack of them. Never in his life would he want to make you cry as hard again, if he could help it.
“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m back. It was a covert mission…haven’t Price informed you?”
He didn’t expect a ‘welcome home’ with cakes and a banner—but he admitted, the least he wished for was a hug. A tight, long hug, followed by a night of holding each other until his body couldn’t physically take it anymore.
Has he gone and ruined it?
“Price?” Your hands thud against the bed to feel for your phone. It had been days since you last checked it, or more. Time moves differently when you’re busy nursing loss and heartbreak. Realising the device was nowhere close, you finally got off the bed—after spending a consecutive day and a half in it—to scan the nearest floor and then-
Ah, there it is. You picked it up and unlocked the screen.
Your eyes bulged as the notifications rolled through the notifications bar, Price’s name consisting of the majority of it.
Simon trails your every movement. After his question, it took you several pauses to think, but almost a quarter of the time to look for your phone, which had undoubtedly dropped somewhere on the floor throughout the day.
His breath stills as he watched your eyes increasingly widen reading the messages. Messages that should’ve reached you at least a couple days ago, that were to prepare you for his arrival.
“Simon?” You called out as you read through each of Price’s explanations and apology. There was another number that tried to reach you, too. Also, a series of apologies—this time, more intimate.
“I’m here,” he answered. God, he wanted to hold you so, so badly. But he can wait. He waited for a year with nothing but the memories and dreams of you to keep him going. He can wait the few moments more that it took you to decide on a path.
“Simon, is- is that really you? I’m not imagining things? I swear, if it’s my head again, this is really cruel-“
“It’s me, love. It’s really me. Not a hallucination. I’m home.”
You look at the figure on the other side of the bed. Slowly, you climbed onto the mattress, scooting ever so hesitantly with your knees to the middle of the queen sized-bed, hands reaching out half-expecting your touch to go through him.
Damn it, he couldn’t wait. When you got onto the bed, his body rushed to mirror the movement, meeting you halfway and grabbing your hand to place it over his cheek—now with an additional scar over his jaw.
His eyes shut. Your touch upon him righted his world again, and suddenly-
He’s crying. Or at least, about to. He’s here, and warm and tears brim his eyes, somehow never falling down.
Most importantly, he’s home.
“My dear, what have they done to you?”
He’d returned to you almost unrecognisable—the certain look in his eyes that made him Simon washed away until only a dull imitation remains.
“Not now, love. I don’t want to talk about it now.”
He’d gone through torture before, and came out of it with deeper scars than the last.
But this torture was different. The enemy they were against was known for targeting the person closest to whomever was against them, thus the need to cut contact with you. Every night was a constant pacing, wondering if they had found you, if you were okay. Every damned moment, your imagined screams and cries took over his decisions, despite him trying his best to keep his head on the mission.
The torture was visions of you being in his place.
“Please, is it too late for me to answer your question now?”
“What question?”
You were always the more emotional one in the relationship. So, despite all the tears you’ve exhausted through months of mourning, there was no surprise that your body had decided to create more.
Though, this time, it was his head pressed to your chest instead of the other way around. Because yes, you may have suffered through the loss of him, but he had been actively fighting for his life in that same duration—and having to hide all of it from you, too, never having the comfort of home at the end of the day.
Your question, which had been making a home out of his skeleton by now.
“When you asked me if I love you. If I did enough to stay.”
You remembered that. It was a last ditch effort—perhaps a manipulative way to make sure he stays. It was a question you regretted asking. Because Simon is Simon, and there were more lives at stake than making sure your pretty little heart stays unbroken.
“I didn’t mean to ask that. Simon, it was wrong of me-“
“Yes, I do.” His answer resolute. That was to be his last mission, and he decided the minute the door closed on him when he left the flat that day. His last, and he’s going home—and if he’s lucky, you would still be there for him.
Simon straightened and this time, took you in his lap. When you didn’t fight, he leaned down and hesitated for a kiss over your lips.
When you reciprocated, his tears fucking fell, seasoning the kiss with its salty essence.
But you didn’t pull away. You kissed him, and every inch of his face, paying extra attention to the fresh scar on his jaw.
You pulled back from the kiss when you started losing breath.
“You do?” You ask, suddenly remembering the velvet box next to his dog tag resting on the dresser beside the bed. Your eyes slid to it.
Simon’s eyes followed the direction yours went.
Fuck, he thought, forgetting that he had intended to propose right after his last mission. Well, apparently the secret’s out.
“I do, I love you. And I will make sure to not make you doubt me anymore. I love you, darling. You keep my head above water.”
Perhaps it will take time to go back to the way it was. Time, and lots of outside help.
After all, there would be no sunrise without the darkest of nights.
“And you keep my feet on the ground. I love you too, Simon.”
#simon riley x you#angst with a happy ending#hurt/comfort#simon ghost riley#fanfic#simon riley x reader#ghost cod#call of duty
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MIDNIGHT RAIN | y. itadori
(this is part one! click here for part two)
synopsis: you and itadori part ways in shibuya.
authors note: HI! i'm back! back with a fic with probably the best boy to ever exist. hope you enjoy!
cw: sfw, angst, fluff, kissing, blood, gore, use of y/n, slight spoilers for s2
wc: 2.9k
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This was your second mission and honestly you weren’t sure if things could get any worse. Any darker. Any more bleak. The hope that glimmered at the end of this day had long been snuffed out the moment you parted from Itadori. He'd grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and asked you to stay out of trouble. You promised.
You didn’t make friends very easily, that and not many people ever took the time to try with you. To try and know you. No one. Until Itadori. You were quiet, he was loud. You were cold and he was kind. He was sunshine, you were midnight rain. Like day and night. But you liked him. You liked him a lot. He tried with you. Tried hard to know you, to know things you liked. What you ate at lunch, what you listened to in your room, what shows moved you. He paid attention. In return you did the same. He’d go with you to bookstores, carry your things and make jokes about the dirty books you picked. You’d go with him to the movies, to see a movie about a worm. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.
You two had plans for halloween. Like many others you were going to dress as Barbie and Ken. Itadori’s idea.
Instead you were in Shibuya.
“I told you you’d like it!” Itadori beams as he holds the door open, sunshine momentarily blinding you as you walk onto the sidewalk.
“I grew to care for that worm.” You said and heard Itadori laugh warmly. Itadori had dragged you to his earthworm movie. He jogs up to you and walks on the side closest to the street.
“I’ll have to show you the other movies sometime.” He says with a smile. You snort out a laugh.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” You say.
The mall was deathly silent. You walked through, your cursed tool clutched tightly in your hands.
When you were young you’d come here. Your Mom would drag you to her nail appointments but after she’d give you fifteen dollars to spend at any store. It was worth it in the end.
You’d never seen this place so deserted. It was frightening. You blew out a breath and scanned the dead atmosphere. You were tracking down people that were stuck here, bringing them somewhere safe. Panda and the smoking guy, you didn’t have time to learn his name, were close by, doing the same as you. Walking past a store a t-shirt catches your eye.
Rain poured, soaking you through. Itadori had picked up speed, he reached for your hand and pulled you gently towards the dorms. You two had been sitting in the courtyard and had fallen asleep by accident only to be awakened by the freezing cold rain that had seemingly come out of nowhere. You two slipped inside as he pulled the door shut behind you both. You started laughing, wringing out your drenched hair. Itadori shakes his head like a dog eliciting another laugh out of you.
“Come on, we’ll warm up in my room.” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back to usher you forwards. Friends. Sometimes you have to remind yourself. As much as you hated it you were a hopeless romantic and your mind played up everything, not everything is like the movies. You blushed nevertheless. When you got to his room he unlocked it and let you inside first. You’d never been in his room before this moment. It was clean, a poster of a girl in a bikini hung on the wall. It made you laugh slightly. He followed your eyeline and rushed forwards, ripping it off the wall.
“Sorry.” He says softly, embarrassed as you shake your head.
“It’s fine, Yuji. I have posters on my wall too.”
“Of half naked men?” He jests as you snort, rolling your eyes.
“No. I was trying to make you feel better.” You say as he stuffs the poster in a drawer.
“Let me get you something dry.” He says over his shoulder. The gravity of the moment does not elude you suddenly. He hands you a t-shirt and sweatpants.
“I’ll let you change in peace.” He says politely.
“You- you can just turn around. I’ll be quick.” You say, reaching for the hem of your wet shirt. He whips around and in the mirror you can see how red his face was. You giggle silently and change quickly, hanging your wet clothes over the back of a chair. You look down and smile. It was a spiderman t-shirt, Itadori’s favorite hero. One that reminds you of him. It smelled like him, this whole room did. “Okay, done.” You say as he turns around, you swear you can see his cheeks turn even more red.
“My clothes suit you.” He says, then realizes what he said and buried his head in his hands.
“Thank you.” You say softly.
“You should keep the shirt, it’s one of my favorites.” He says as you bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.
“I wouldn’t want to take your favorite shirt, Yuji.”
“I want you too.” He says and you can tell he means it. You blush, nodding your head. “Here,” Itadori starts, pulling the covers back on his bed. “Hop in, I’ll change and then we can watch a movie or something.” You slide under the covers and face away as Itadori changes. He jumps beside you a moment later, flicking on the tv.
“We could watch spiderman? I’ve never seen it.” You say as Itadori gasps, turning to look at you.
“You’ve never seen spiderman? Like any of them?” He asks as you nod your head.
“None of them.” You say and he doesn’t answer you back, just turns back to the screen and flicks on the first spiderman movie. You both settle in the bed and you pull the covers closer to your body, still pretty cold. Itadori notices, he always notices small things.
“Still cold?” He whispers. You nod your head and Itadori moves closer to you, sliding an arm around you, pulling you against him. He’s like a personal heater, his body warm. You gasp, you had never cuddled with a boy. “Sorry, is this okay?” He asks and you have to nod your head because you're afraid your voice will betray you. He pulls you just slightly closer and lays his chin on the top of your head. You should be nervous. You had a crush on this boy and right now you were in his arms. But you were utterly comfortable, you’d never felt more safe and secure in your entire life.
It was a similar spiderman t-shirt in the window. You blinked a few times and wondered why you were almost in tears. Tonight felt different. You couldn’t stop worrying for everyone. Especially Itadori. You wished you were partnered with him. You were dying to know if everything was going okay with him. If everyone was alright. You just had this sick feeling.
“Miss?” A voice to your right startles you but your reaction is quick, if it were a curse you would’ve obliterated them. It was a young girl and her mother. You blew out a breath. You didn’t sense any cursed energy near them so you strapped your tool to your belt.
“Are you two okay?” You asked as the little girl looked at you with doe eyes, her mother holding her.
“Are you here to help us?” The mother asks. You nod your head. “He said you’d be here soon.” She says as she walks forwards.
“Who?”
“A boy, he had pinkish hair. He was heading towards the lower section.” Itadori. Your face lit up.
“He was here not long ago?” You ask and she nods her head. You blow out a breath. Getting the smallest bit of information about Itadori’s well being eased your mind. You escorted the mom and her daughter out of the mall and towards the safe zone where a lot of other survivors were. You remembered your first mission as you headed back into the mall, running the way Itadori had gone.
The curse was too strong for your first mission. You’d almost died. There’s a lot of things that goes through a person's mind in these moments but all you could think about was Itadori. You didn’t grow up with a loving family, you had no friends to go back to, no one that would miss you if you died. Or so you thought. You’d packed your bag, made your way out to the car that would escort you to your first mission. You tossed your bag into the trunk and heard your name being called. You turned to see Itadori running faster than you’d ever seen. He was almost just a blur.
“Yu- oof,” His body slams into yours as he sweeps you off your feet in a bone crushing hug. He spins you around as you giggle.
“I’m sorry!” He says as he sets you down. “I almost overslept.”
“Overslept?” You echo as he nods his head.
“I didn’t want to miss your sendoff to your first official mission,” He says, ruffling your hair. You blush.
“It’s not all that exciting.”
“Yes it is.” He insists. “You’re gonna kill it. Literally.” He says.
“Thanks,” You grin.
Itadori couldn’t have been more wrong about that statement. It only took four minutes and thirty-six seconds for things to go from exciting to detrimental. The curse had overpowered you, sliced you up in many places, you were losing blood but you were still fighting. You’d rounded a corner and pressed against the wall. You couldn’t stand any longer, your legs giving out as you slid to the floor. First mission failed. Your tool was loose in your hands and you heard it clatter out of your hand onto the floor beside you. You pressed your hand to your stomach and felt something sticky and wet, pain striking through you like lightning. You hissed in pain. If you were going to die it wouldn’t be on the floor. You’d die fighting. You pushed to your feet, heavily relying on the wall. You scooped up your cursed tool and staggered out into the hallway where you saw the curse you’d been fighting standing still before falling to its knees, revealing Itadori just behind it. A fucking superhero. You tool clattered onto the floor startling Itadori. His eyes met with yours, his eyes went wide, taking the sight of you in.
“Fucking thank god,” You breathed out. You probably looked like a corpse walking.
“Oh- y/n,” His voice shakes as he runs forwards catching you before you could slam into the ground. He gently sweeps you into his arms, rushing towards the exit.
“I didn’t kill it,” You coughed out, hoping a joke would lighten the moment but when you looked up you could see tears in Itadori’s eyes. You felt shitty for joking.
You woke up days later in Shoko’s office. Itadori was snoring softly beside the bed, your favorite book in his hands. You slowly sat up. Your midriff was bandaged as well as your arms. You pushed to your feet and padded across the room to the bathroom, flicking on the light. There was a bandage on your cheek and a few bruises and small cuts on your face. You walked back into the room just as Itadori stretched, startling at the sight of you walking around.
“Y/n! You should stay in bed!” He insists, springing to his feet, sliding an arm around your waist.
“I feel fine.” You say but he’s pulling you back towards the bed and sitting in it with you. “How long was I out?”
“A couple days,” Itadori says, worried expression on his face. You smile.
“I’m fine. Thanks to you.”
“I should’ve gone with you.”
“It was supposed to be my mission, you weren’t supposed to go.”
“No more missions alone. We’re a pair.” He says, reaching across the space between you both to tuck your hair out of your face.
“You should probably partner with someone who doesn’t get their ass kicked.” You say as he shakes his head.
“I want you. No one else.” He says, sliding his hand against your cheek. “I mean it.” You can’t help but smile.
“If you're sure.”
“Deadly sure.” He insists. The conviction in his eyes was serious. You must’ve scared him. You remembered walking out into the hallway, you were covered in blood, you probably looked half dead. That would be a scary sight for anyone.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.” You say, looking away from him for a moment. This moment felt vulnerable.
“I was scared. That curse was strong and then you walked out…” He trailed off, his hand falling from your cheek to gently twirl around a lock of your hair.
“I feel like a burden,” You say. “You didn’t struggle with that curse at all yet it almost killed me.” Itadori’s eyes go serious.
“You are not a burden. Any person on their first mission would’ve struggled with that curse. It was stronger than predicted.”
“Yeah, but-”
“But nothing. You’re incredible, you’ll see that.” He says, giving you a smile, the first one since you woke up. You nod your head.
“Thank you.” You say.
It’s quiet for a moment. Before Itadori speaks again.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” He says, a haunted look in his eyes. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “All that blood.”
“I’m sorry,” You say, biting your lip. He jumps forwards and yanks you into a hug, a softer one this time, he still holds you tightly though, as though you’ll slip through his hands like sand and be carried away by the wind. You rest your chin on his shoulder and hug him back. “I’m fine now. I feel much better.” You whisper. “Thanks to you.”
“I’g go insane if I lost you.” He says. You close your eyes.
“I think I would too.” He pulls back suddenly, you both are so close. His eyes flick to your lips before looking back in your eyes.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” You say, ignoring the flips and flutters in your stomach.
“Do I have a chance with you?” He asks. It's quiet as you try and understand what he’d just asked you.
“What?”
“You're so smart and cool. I just- I think some moments you might like me back but you’re out of my league and,” Itadori rambles as you hold up your hand.
“Yuji, hold on.” You say, taking a moment to let things simmer in your mind. “You like like me?”
“Love. I love you.” He corrects. Your lips fall open, your brows hiking up.
“Love…?” You say as he nods his head. “Yuji-,”
“It’s alright if you don’t love me back,” He says. “I don’t expect you-” You lean and cut off his words, words you didn’t want to hear. You press your lips to his. A soft kiss, that sends butterflies to your stomach, sparkling confetti behind your eyes. Itadori hums contently, his hands sliding up on your jaw, pulling you closer to him.
You still feel those same butterflies just remembering months later. You rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. The area was a disaster, as though some fight had just happened. Debris was still toppling over, there were large slash marks in the walls. You walked slowly through the disaster, sliding your cursed tool into your palm. Just to the right there was leaking water flooding out of a bathroom and what caught your eye was the striking image of blood mixed with the water. You swallowed and proceeded forwards. Lights flashed inside as you stepped into the puddles, peeking around the corner. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight. You understood immediately how Itadori felt when he saw you covered in blood, staggering along through that hallway. You saw his shoes first, the blood pooling around him. He was propped up against the wall, half his shoulder missing, blood covering his face.
“Yuji,” Your own voice sounded foreign as you charged into the bathroom, tears springing to your eyes in an instant as the sprinklers doused you in cold water. He looked dead. Your hands shook. Everything seemed to slow. You two should’ve been dressed in stupid costumes at a stupid halloween party. Should’ve been playing beer pong, you two would win, Itadori was great at that game. He would’ve spun you around so fast after your win, you’d be holding onto the hat on your head laughing. You’d be damned if the boy you loved died. You felt again for a pulse and felt the faintest of ones. Itadori was a fighter. You couldn’t carry him out of here but you could get up to the top and find Shoko. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and ran as fast as you could. You made it back in record time with Shoko in tow but when you skidded into the bathroom, water splashing against your jeans, Itadori was gone. You should've asked him to promise to stay out of trouble.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#yuji itadori#jjk itadori#jujutsu itadori#itadori x reader#itadori x you#yuji x reader#yuji jjk#yuji x you#itadori yuuji#itadori yūji#jjk
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fighting fate
summary: you had some choice words for your friend who set you up on a not-so-blind date. but, because it went well, you decide to meet with him again. it’s not long before the spark reignites like when you first met, and you can’t help but fall for him.
or: you go on a second date with gale
word count: 5.5k
tags: *this is a sequel to ‘a blind date with a wizard’, you do not have to read it before this one :)* gale x implied f!reader/afab!reader, astarion and shart are terrible wingmen, elf!reader, fluff, some small angst, mildly medium burn, alcohol usage, wyll is also there and also your ex, omg karlach is also there
author’s note: this is my little disclaimer that i personally love wyll! i’m just using him as a plot point since there’s not many other main chara options that haven’t been mentioned already (that i would use in his place). its for the plot guys i swear i’m a wyll lover too
Okay, maybe you couldn’t be mad at Astarion and Shadowheart. Yes, they betrayed your trust by setting you up on a faux blind date with their wizard friend who already knew your entire life story. And yes, they did not take accountability for their lies and instead kept asking if you enjoyed yourself. But, their little plan worked, and you were scheduling a second date with the man they set you up with.
“I am still pissed at you both. Especially you, Astarion,” You glared at your friend as he flipped through outfits in your closet. Shadowheart was busy doing your makeup, turning your face back towards her.
“Look, you can’t stay angry forever. You needed someone to get your mind off of Wyll. I just did what I do best,” he replied, holding up one rather… skimpy outfit that you turned your nose up at.
“Lying? You could’ve at least told me a little about him so I didn’t feel so mortified! You told him all about Wyll and when I tried to vaguely mention that I had a bad breakup, he already knew all about it!” You huffed, and Shadowheart grabbed your chin to steady your face. She gave you a cautionary look as she got underway applying your eyeliner, her hand steady and precise. She had cast duplicity to do both sides at the same time, which made the process much easier.
“Sweetheart, if you knew half the things about him you’d refuse to meet with him. I kept you in the dark so you can see for yourself who he is,” Astarion held up another outfit, one a bit more casual but still would be pretty on you. You nodded in approval and Shadowheart nearly had an aneurysm.
“If you don’t stop moving your damn head I’m going to let you leave here looking like a sibriex,” Shadowheart warned you again, and you took heed of her notice this time.
With your makeup done and your outfit fresh, all you had to do was wait for Gale to arrive. The two of you had been back and forth for weeks now, mostly updating each other on current things you were up to. A few days prior, with your schedules finally open, he had sent word of when he’d like to take you out and you responded as soon as you could. Now, you waited for the date to commence.
“You can at least thank us for our assistance in getting you out of the house. Had I not convinced you to go on that blind date, you’d still be crying over Ravengard’s oldest disappointment,” Astarion remarked, and you snorted at the insult of a name.
You sighed after, messing with the ends of your hair. “You can’t blame me for being annoyed. You wouldn’t like it if I set you up with someone and told them you were a vampire before you could,” you raised an eyebrow at him knowingly. He couldn’t deny that you were correct on that front, but he wasn’t about to say that to you.
“Just be grateful he didn’t tell Gale about your little misadventures as a—“ Shadowheart began, and you quickly clamped your hand over her mouth, shushing her.
“Don’t mention that! It’ll bring bad luck to my date tonight,” you frowned, and both of your companions busted out in laughter.
You continued chatting until a soft knock sounded on the door, and you screamed internally. After getting up from the couch, you made your way to the door. You took a breath, eased your mind, and then opened it up for him.
“Hey,” you beamed at him, trying to contain your excitement. He bowed in acknowledgement and pulled out a small bouquet from behind his back.
“Good evening, my lady,” he smiled at you, extending the flowers in greeting.
You felt your face become hot while a small giggle left you. You took them from him and briefly smelled the assortment. “They’re lovely, thank you,” you replied, inviting him inside for a beat so you could set the flowers down.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite wizard of Waterdeep!” Astarion swung his legs over his chair, standing and heading towards him. He slumped his arm over Gale’s shoulders, patting his back. “Isn’t he just amazing, Y/N? Such a gentleman— is that bluestars I smell?” Astarion whacked him on the back once more, stepping around to you as he observed the flowers. Bluestars was a rather expensive perfume in Faerùn, costing over two hundred gold pieces for just a small bottle. You had never smelled it before, but you were sure you would later.
“Leave him be, Astarion,” you gave him a look, voice low to avoid Gale hearing you.
“Ah, I pay no mind to Astarion anyway,” Gale watched you as you placed the flowers neatly in a vase and filled it with water. “If I did, I sincerely doubt I’d be here at the moment,” he chuckled, and you beamed at the reply.
“You’re such a pain, Gale. You know that?” Astarion whined, before slipping back over to the couch.
“I’m sure he’s plenty aware,” Shadowheart called over her shoulder, focused on a book she had brought out.
“Thank you, Shadowheart, for your helpful insight on the matter,” Gale retorted, raising a hand to you once you were done with the bouquet. “Shall we?”
You took his hand, your face flushing again as he led you out the door. “We shall,” you answered, smiling sweetly at him.
“Bring her home before one!” Astarion called out as you both left.
“Oh, that may be difficult!” Gale retorted, allowing you to close the door behind you both as you departed.
“What, you plan on stealing me away for the whole evening?” You raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously, laughing as you interlocked your arms and he began to walk with you.
“Perhaps.. if you’d let me,” he nudged you gently, before leading you off to a small restaurant in the heart of the city.
“Hmm… it’ll depend on how this night goes,” you flirted, patting his arm tenderly. Soon enough, you were being seated inside the little restaurant, and looking over the menu. Everything looked… expensive. You didn't want to hurt the man’s coin pouch, assuming he was paying for it, but there weren't exactly any reasonable options, either.
“What are you getting?” You questioned, and he pointed to some mildly pricey menu item. That was your hint at expenses, and you picked a dish that sounded promising but wasn’t going to put you in debt if you ended up paying for yourself.
The date was filled with idle conversation, the two of you discussing parts of your home life here and there, commenting happily on the food you ate, and just sharing the good parts of yourselves. It was going great, extraordinary even.
Until he showed up.
Wyll Ravengard. You didn't even feel the eyes burning into the back of your head until you heard someone pleading with him to stop, attempting to keep him back. You flicked your attention over to the commotion, eyes going wide as you saw him. You wished you hadn’t made eye contact, that you’d minded your business, but you hadn’t. And now you had to deal with it.
You wanted to shrink down into yourself. Disappear into nothing- hide under the table like a small child. With the way things ended, how could you face him? He was a gentleman for your whole relationship— until he wasn’t. You couldn’t stand to see the face that spoke to you in such a way that night. No matter what influence he was under, what he did that night you broke up… you couldn’t forgive him.
You recalled the many nights after that fight, how depressed you had become. He tried several times to get your attention and apologize to you, but you were so wrapped up in yourself that it was hard to pay attention to anything. Some nights he was kindly about it, others he was swearing like a damned sailor who couldn't take no for an answer. You weren't sure who he had become, and no matter how hard he tried he was unable to reverse the past.
“Y/N!” He shouted your name, and you put your head in your hands. Maybe if you didn't see him, he would disappear.
“Wyll, please, not here-“ his friend Karlach, you recognized her as, tried to hold him back. But with his thrashing and flailing, he managed to worm his way free of her grasp.
“Impero te!” Gale moved to his feet quickly, and Wyll froze in place. You recognized the words as a command spell. It appeared Gale chose that over a holding spell, perhaps so he could speak with Wyll first. You knew it would wear off soon, so you placed your coin on the table and got up.
“Don’t you dare leave, Y/N!” Wyll exclaimed, and Gale turned to check up on you.
“I’m okay,” you reassured him, smiling faintly as you grabbed your things. “I’m just going to go outside for a minute.”
He nodded and waited for you to leave before his attention was on Wyll again.
You weren’t sure what happened after that, but only a little while later and both men were being tossed out by two guards you’d seen in the restaurant earlier. Gale’s face was down, his hand held up to his nose, and in the candle-lit street, you could faintly make out blood on his knuckles.
“You bastard!” Wyll ran to, presumably, take another swing, but Karlach grabbed him in time before he could.
“Gale-“ you rushed to his side, now that Karlach had a tight hold on Wyll, and checked him for any other injuries.
“I’m alright, I’m alright,” he soothed, despite the blood dripping down his face. You reached into the small bag you had brought and took out a cloth, gently wiping at his face.
“Does this jackass speak for you now, Y/N?” You heard Wyll snarl, followed by Karlach’s aggressive warnings for him to calm down.
“Mates, I’m really sorry for his behavior. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Can I pay you back for the dinner?” Karlach surrendered, nodding down to a small coin pouch at her hip.
“It’s not your fault, you don’t need to pay for his stupidity,” you answered, moving Gale to sit down on a nearby bench. “Tilt your head back..” you instructed, a delicate motherly tone to your voice, and he did so, holding the cloth tight against his nose.
As you spun to face Wyll, you saw he was bloodied just the same. You had to hand it to Gale, he was more than just a gentleman. You sighed, composed yourself, and put on your bravest ‘what the fuck are you doing’ face.
“What do you want, Wyll?” You coldly asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You know what I want,” he huffed, still struggling in Karlach’s grasp.
“Actually, as a matter of fact, I don’t! It might surprise you, but I haven’t known what you wanted from me since the night we broke up. What could you possibly need from me after everything that transpired?” Your eyebrows furrowed together, irate with him. Thinking about that night hurt your mind and your heart, you’d much rather continue with your date like nothing happened. But, of course, the universe was always against you.
“Y/N-“ Wyll calmed slightly, his likely drunken stupor fading as he regained his senses seeing you like this. For a moment, he looked like how you remembered him. For a moment, he was yours again.
That quickly dissipated as he continued to speak, reaching towards you, begging, “I want you- I miss you. I should’ve never let this go, I should’ve never let that bastard get his hands on you. You’re mine, right? Like we used to say?”
You took a step back at his words, feeling sick to your stomach. After all this time, he still had that false hope he could get you back? That you still belonged to him? And what was worse, he called Gale a bastard. Again.
“I’ll have you know that bastard back there, is twice the man you ever were. I suggest you rethink your ownership because, to my knowledge, I belong to myself. I was finally- finally!- feeling free from your grasp and here you go, trying to steal my peace from me.” you clasped your hands together, groaning out in frustration before running a hand down your face. “I was done with you a long time ago, Wyll. Please, for the love of all of Faerún, let. Me. Go. Drop this faux apology and the pathetic act and move on with your life. That was embarrassing!” You sighed, running a hand down your face. The arguing in public was only adding to your humiliation, though many passersby just assumed you all were drunk.
“Y/N-“
“No, Wyll!” You cut him off, waving a hand dramatically to silence him. “I was so happy to be finally moving on from you and rebuilding myself after you left me in pieces and you had to come here and ruin it! You had to smash me to bits all over again! I just want to be happy, and you can’t even let me have that?” You could feel tears welling in your eyes, but you pushed them down like all your other worries. “Please, go home. Go away. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to see you anymore, I want to go home. Without you.” It seemed that those final words got to him, and he realized his defeat.
As much as you had loved him in the past, he was no longer who you loved now. It was beyond you to change him to become the man he used to be, and you cried for the day he would find the love he would become that for. You wished he could do that for you but you knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t even worth it anymore. Besides, you had to get Gale home and cleaned up anyway. What good would worrying about Wyll do for you?
“You’re sure you don’t want any coin, mate? I feel awful about all of this,” Karlach offered again, and you waved her off.
“Get him home safe, that’s all I ask,” you replied, and they were off. You watched as Wyll’s sad, defeated eyes stayed locked with yours until they were far enough away, and your heart broke all over again.
Gale knew when not to meddle in things that didn’t concern him, so he left that talking up to you. It was not his place to speak to Wyll for you, but his charming act of heroism in punching the shit out of Wyll was plenty for you.
You took another breath, unclenched the fists you had unknowingly created, and returned to Gale’s side.
“How are you doing?” You asked him, kneeling in front of him as he laughed softly.
“As good as a man with a broken nose can be. You don’t happen to have any healing potions on you, do you?” He replied, smiling at you.
“Not here, but I have some at home,” You offered, and he shook his head no to that.
“I’d rather not return to Astarion’s commentary on my little.. quandary here,”
You pondered for a moment, and then a metaphorical lightbulb appeared over your head. “Vis medicatrix,” you chanted, placing your hand on his arm to heal the wound. Blue light emitted from your palms and eyes for a moment and then faded. Why you hadn’t thought of that prior, you had no idea.
“There. How do you feel now?” You repeated, and Gale lowered the cloth from his nose. He breathed in and out a few times, and then nodded in satisfaction.
“You’re quite good at that,” he chuckled, trying to wipe off as much blood from his face as he could. His knuckles were covered in Wyll’s blood, you noted, and you were oddly surprised Gale didn’t have more marks on him from whatever took place inside.
“What even-“
“Perhaps later.”
You pursed your lips in understanding, standing straight as you waited for him. Where would you head off to now? He looked a mess, and you could hardly stand to be around everyone who had just witnessed what occurred. What would people say? They undoubtedly recognized Ravengard’s son, so what would the rumors tell about you? Those were worries for a later time.
“There’s a travel sigil nearby if you’d like to head to my home in Waterdeep with me,” Gale offered, and you interlocked your arms again when he stood up.
“I’d like that,” you agreed, letting him guide you home.
After a bit of walking and some magical travel, you were inside Gale’s rather lavish tower in Waterdedl. The walls were practically lined from floor to ceiling with books, showing his studious nature. The smell of thousand-year-old tomes and scrolls filled your lungs, mixed with the neverending hint of brandy and vanilla. He took good care of his belongings, despite his continued apologies over what he considered a mess. Though, the only clutter you saw was that of a well-studied scholar. It was impressive just how many books he had, and you wondered if he really had read all of them.
“I believe I have a bottle of Ithbank somewhere around here, let me get myself cleaned up first,” Gale offered, and you had half the nerve to speak up.
“Let me help you,” you proposed, and he smiled at you. That cheeky, knowing smile, akin to one Astarion would give you when you’d talk of something scandalous he was already doing. He nodded his head in the direction of his washroom and you followed along behind him, allowing him to sit on a small stool as you wet a rag.
“Well, go on,” you urged, tilting his face up by the chin as you stood between his legs. Gently, you began washing the blood off of his face. “What happened?”
“After you stepped outside, Wyll began saying some rather choice words,” Gale recounted, the night's events playing over in his mind, eyes ever trained on you. “He wouldn’t cooperate with leaving. He took the first swing, I assure you. It’s not like me to throw first, or even second. I usually counteract with magic but, albeit adrenaline was forefront in my mind, a more physical response felt qualified.”
You chuckled at him, shaking your head as you took his hands and cleaned them off, too. “I’m not a damsel in distress, you know. I just didn’t want to deal with him.” You informed him, wanting to make perfectly clear your reason for aversion.
“Oh, I’m fully aware. But I like to play the white knight now and then, if you’d indulge me,” he grinned, turning his hand in yours and taking it gently. He kissed the top of your palm in thanks for your help.
You giggled at him, splashing his face gently with water, to which he gasped, reached over towards the sink, and splashed you back. You both burst into laughter as you started a miniature water fight, flicking water droplets at one another. You, though, wouldn’t give up this nonsensical fight so easily, and splashed a small cup in his face. His expression turned sour and you darted out of the washroom, Gale quick on your tail, and began dashing around bookshelves to avoid him. The initial droplets soon became minor castings of ‘create water’, both of you careful not to damage the papers surrounding you.
“This honestly seems unfair!” He called over to you as you shimmied behind a small space between two bookshelves. Abruptly, he went quiet and you began to peek around some books to see where he was.
He didn’t even say a word as he wrung out his cloth over your head, your hair becoming completely wet.
“Gale!” You screeched, turning around to his shit-eating grin. You whipped out your cloth while grabbing his collar, suddenly pulled his shirt slightly off his body, and wrung out all the remaining water from yours down his chest. Then, you flattened his shirt against his chest, allowing it to become soaked in its own right.
He jumped slightly at the coolness and glared down at you, albeit playfully. He quickly pulled you against him by the waist, effectively getting your clothes damp, too.
“You know, this is one of my favorite shirts. It’s not supposed to get wet like this so the fibers don’t fray,” Gale hummed, staring down at you with a suggestive look in his eye.
“Oh? How ever will I repay you for ruining it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him with faux innocence.
He thought about it for a moment, pondered just a beat too long, and tugged you close against his hips. He leaned down towards you, letting his nose brush against your own.
“A simple apology should suffice,” he smiled softly, looking down into your eyes.
“Well,” you lowered your voice, your eyes flicked from his to his lips, and back up again. “I’m so sorry, Mister Dekarios..” your hands made their way to his chest, and you planted them flat against him. “I should dry this off for you too, shouldn’t I?” You pouted, pulling out the wide, cutesy eyes for him.
He took in a breath, placing one hand on top of yours while the other rested on your lower back. “While I love that offer..” he started, brushing his lips against yours, “Let’s take things slow, yes?” He asked, and your breath hitched. Good gods. You couldn’t believe how goddamn gorgeous he was up close. You wanted nothing more than to spend the whole night with him, whatever that would entail.
“Y/N-“
“Yes.” He didn’t even need to ask, but he started to anyway. Almost instantly, his lips were against your own, the hand on your back gently pulling you closer to him as if there was any distance keeping you apart. Your eyes fluttered closed, indulging yourself entirely the moment.
You replied instantly to him, grabbing at his shirt as you leaned up towards him. One of your hands released the fabric and slid up his shoulder, then into his hair, tugging gently.
He hummed happily in response to the pull, grabbing tighter at your waist. After another beat, he drew back and rubbed his nose against yours.
“Gale…” Your eyes slowly opened again, ever so slightly still shut, looking up at him with an unknown kind of intensity and love.
“I know…” he whispered, pressing a small kiss to your lips again, before he trailed down your neck with them, his hands solid against your back and keeping you steady.
You let out a soft, satisfied little groan, running your hands through his hair. He pulled back again after another brief indulgement of his thoughts and looked down at you. He was so perfect, you almost felt bad for making him deal with you and all your imperfections.
“Can I stay the night with you?” You asked, and then panicked as you realized he might get the wrong idea. “Not- like- we don’t have to do anything! I just… want to be here… with you…” your voice went quieter by the minute, and he chuckled at your shyness in asking.
Tilting your head up by the chin, he calmed your nerves. “Of course, you can,” he leaned down to you, pressing another small kiss to your lips.
He slowly pulled away from you, his hands ghosting on your waist before he stepped back, coaching you to follow him with his all-knowing smirk, bringing you to his kitchen. As you followed, he pulled out the aforementioned bottle of Ithbank and two glasses. You hopped up onto one of the counters, watching him pour into each.
“So, I have to know,” he began, handing you the wine, “if you’d be willing to share,” he took a sip from his glass, stepping between your legs this time, “what exactly happened with Wyll? Because that kind of a reaction from someone doesn’t suggest that the breakup was just messy, it suggests that it was, well, horrid to say the least.”
You took the wine glass from him, wrapped your legs around his waist, and sighed loudly. “I’d like to know about you and your ex first,” you replied, taking a sip slowly, “I don’t know much about you and right now the scales are quite imbalanced,” you finished, setting your glass down beside you. You leaned forward, draping your arms over his shoulders, and began to mess with his hair.
“Ah, Mystra…” he chuckled, though it wasn’t as enthusiastic as it usually was. He pursed his lips together, frowned slightly, and then began to speak.
“As you may know, Mystra is the Goddess of Magic, the Mother of the Weave, if you will. And I, myself, am a rather proclaimed wizard,” he started, bringing your arms down from his shoulders as he stepped back. He began to manipulate the weave around you both, a soft purple light shimmering and sparkling between and around you. “From a young age, I was using the Weave. I had much of it mastered by the time I was just ten years old. One of Mystra’s former chosen, Elminster, took it upon himself to train me in her absence, as she was not alive at that point.”
You saw the face of a man, conjured by Gale, who you could only assume was the Elminster he spoke of.
“When Mystra came back, she had lost a part of herself in her former death. Thus, she was weak. But, she could still sense my fascination and usage of the Weave. Soon enough, she began appearing to me. Only briefly, mind you, she was still far too injured to show herself entirely, but she still did.” This time, you saw the face of a rather beautiful woman, whom he alluded to as Mystra. How had he given up a Goddess? Well, you’d find out.
“At that time, she picked me to become one of her Chosen. Recognizing my skill for harnessing the Weave, and understanding my desire and devotion to her, it was an obvious choice. She started mentoring me, showing me parts of the Weave I had not yet discovered,” he continued, using visualizations of the encounters to help guide the storyline. “Eventually, we became friends. And then, even closer than that. Lovers. I desired to become great for her- intertwine our souls together, prove just how much I loved her. Remind you, she was dead for a long time,” he paused, making sure you were following him.
“When she came back, she had to regain the parts of the Weave that she had lost. I, knowing this, happened across a tome that told of a portion of the Weave that Mystra had not yet been reacquainted with. Lost to time, the elements, and Mystra’s long respite, this part of the Weave had gone uncollected by her and was still separate. It was imbued with Netherese magic from the folly of one of her chosen from many centuries prior, that in of itself is a story for another time. I sought to retrieve it and return it to her as an act of love- or, perhaps, egotism. I shall never know the true intent of my heart in those days, but, rest assured, I am no longer the same,” he smiled warily at you, hoping he was not losing you in everything. Both in the storybook tale he was telling, and romantically.
“The act of mine failed, rather horrendously so. What mortal man takes a piece of the weave for himself? A selfish one, indeed. Cursed with this portion, it was bestowed upon me. There are many details that I’m leaving for the sake of not boring you, but in a gist that is what happened. And now, this Netherese magic rests within me, seeking out parts of the weave to regain what it too had previously lost. Without magical artifacts, death very well could be the consequence. So, safe to say, I am no longer on my Goddess’ good side,” he paused, debating on what else to say. “It’s an arcane hunger, that’s what my Tressym, Tara, and I have figured out. I must consume those artifacts regularly to ease the hunger and calm the orb, otherwise I’ll… well, let’s just say it won’t exactly be very pretty.” He laughed slightly again, that sad, disheartened chuckle, and you felt terrible for him.
Mystra had essentially cursed the man she claimed to love, and you found that unfair. Why wouldn’t she just reabsorb the magic? Why put him under duress when all he wanted to do was prove his devotion? You would never say it aloud, but you despised the Gods and their unusual cruelty at times.
“I… don’t know what to say. That’s awful, Gale.” You realized that the details he had provided to you on your initial date were rather vague. Now that he explained it in more depth, your situation with Wyll felt minuscule in comparison. What’s a lover's quarrel in the shadow of a devoted, lovesick chosen being cursed with a gift he intended for his Goddess?
“Do not pity me, Y/N. It’s the consequence of a foolish man seeking more than he could attain. Had I not been blinded by my insatiable need to grow stronger and unlock arcane secrets that were not mine to know, I would not be here. Mystra had told me to be content, and I just couldn’t listen. But had I, I would not be with you. If going back in time meant that I would lose out on what I have now, I would suffer it all over a thousand times more,” he smiled at you, the magic fading as he returned and stood in front of you again.
“You’d suffer through losing your Goddess’ favor for me?” You asked, and he nodded. The look in his eye… was one of complete seriousness. While soft, you could see the determination behind his gaze. He did not intend to fault you like he faulted his Goddess. He wanted to savor this, savor you. You weren’t sure whether to be scared, or honored. What else was he willing to risk for you?
“I’d disown even the angriest of Gods if it resulted in our union being inseparable,” he placed his hand under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I have only known you for a short period of my life, and yet I’d live a thousand more years with you if I could.”
You felt your eyes water, the sentiment touching your heart. You looked towards the ground, before throwing your arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, and he pulled you close against him.
“Thank you, for everything,” you told him, burying your face into his chest. He held you just like that for a moment, allowing his head to rest on top of yours. When you finally pulled away, looking up at him with the sweetest doe eyes, he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss you again.
“You’re adorable,” he laughed softly, kissing you again and again. Your giggles broke the kisses and you whacked him gently on the chest to get him to stop.
“Are you alright? I know that was quite a lot to take in,” he asked, and you admired his sensitivity to your headspace.
“I’m alright. I’m still stuck on the fact you eat magical items, though,” you joked, and he rolled his eyes at you.
“Alright, alright. Enough about me. It’s your turn,” he wrapped the conversation back around to you and Wyll, and it pained you for a second to think about it.
And then you looked at him, enjoying his glass of wine with you, and you couldn’t help but feel connected enough to talk about it.
Until you heard the birds chirping happily outside, the two of you labored over the blow-up with Wyll. It was a weight off your shoulders, bantering with him about all the shitty things that happened that night. Like two drunken schoolgirls talking shit about a mutual ex-friend, you both couldn’t help it.
You weren’t sure how long you slept, just that you were comfortable, warm, and safe. Safe within the tight hold of Gale’s arms, under the silk sheets that lined his bed.
You had this inkling feeling that all was right in the world. The universe, for once, was back on your side. Back on his side. It was like mending a pot with the age-old art of kintsugi- melding two broken pieces together with gold-dusted glue. Was it perfect? By no means. But it was together. It was whole.
You were whole again.
At least, until you got abducted by Mindflayers.
#baldur's gate 3#fanfiction#for you#for you page#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#bg3#gale fanfic#gale fluff#gale angst#gale#baldurs gate gale#gale x reader#gale romance#baldurs gate wyll#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 shadowheart#shadowheart#bg3 karlach#karlach#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#baldur’s gate fanfiction#bg3 fanfiction#x reader#baldurs gate fanfiction#fanfiction angst
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Left Alone 12: Drive
Tropes/content warnings: M for mature themes overall. Vampire whumpee/caretaker, male whumpee/caretaker, non-binary whumpee/caretaker, general morbidity.
In this episode: angst, injuries, dead bodies, discussion of death.
If you would like to be added to, or removed from, the tag list of this series, please let me know!
Part 11: Silencers 3
“Tolly?” Arden’s voice was creaky with suppressed panic. They didn’t appear immediately at the bottom of the stairs. “I heard – noises - ?”
“They had guns, and I’m afraid your kitchen is going to require more renovation than planned,” Tolly said.
“Had?”
“I’ve put the bodies into their van. You won’t see them.”
There was a longer pause. Even from the doorway, Tolly could hear Arden’s rapid heart.
“You sound different,” Arden said.
Tolly blinked. Did he? His voice didn’t sound changed to himself, and while he had regained his glamour, the Eye of Rule absolutely would prevent Arden from being affected by it. He would never appear as other than a reasonably attractive early-middle-aged man to Arden, just as with Nicholas. He would never sound like something other than an adult with a trained tenor.
“I might be a little different,” Tolly said. “Do you want me to come down? We really are short on time.”
Another pause. “No, I’ll come up.”
Tolly backed away from the basement door and a couple of steps down the hall to let Arden out. They turned the hallway light on as they shut the basement door, momentarily blinding Tolly. He heard their sharp intake of breath as he raised a hand to shade his eyes.
“How are you standing up? Oh, god, we have to get help. Hold still.” Hands grabbed urgently at his arm, at his other shoulder. Tolly swore silently as he realized he was frozen in place below the neck. Different wording would have left him unable to move even his lips and eyes.
“Arden, I’m fine,” he said. Even now, their hands feel warm. He could feel Arden’s breath brush his skin where his shirt had bullet holes in it. This close, their heartbeat was so beautiful. He could have listened for hours.
Enough, idiot. He’d been alone too long. Even feeding had not restored his faculties to normalcy, he realized with renewed anger and shame. The urge to take Arden’s life was less obtrusive, a nagging torment instead of a roaring agony, but now there were other little insanities clamoring for attention.
“I heal very quickly,” he said. “If you would please allow me to move - ?”
“If I would – oh, fuck, I gave an order. Yes, move, I’m sorry.” But they didn’t let go immediately, pulling his shirt away from his body to look at both sides of a scorched hole. “How many times were you shot? Why is your hair long again? Why do you look alive now?”
“In order: I wasn’t counting,” Tolly said, lowering his arm. “Each time I heal, my undead flesh tries to recreate the moment of my change. And because I’ve fed.”
“Did these hurt?” Tolly looked down into big, dark eyes, at Arden’s eyeliner already running, and lied without hesitation.
“No. I don’t feel much pain outside the Thirst. Arden, we have to go. More will come within a couple of hours. I don’t know if I can protect you from what Daniel called an Exalted and I don’t think we should risk it.”
“Daniel?”
“I questioned one of them. Few can refuse to answer me without the ring you wear. Listen, he didn’t suffer. You have to let go and go pack, Arden. Don’t you have a vehicle?”
“Yeah, there’s the Soul,” Arden said, shaking themselves as they dropped their hands. Tolly could see them trying to think, wiping their eyes and consequently smearing their makeup even worse.
“Then go, quickly.”
Arden ran for the stairs. Tolly took the other one so that the blast of his rapid passage wouldn’t knock them over. Most of his things were already in the duffel, bullets had hit his wallet but missed his phone – the cards, damn it. He couldn’t wait around for them to arrive. Well, at least now he had his phone. He could Venmo or Paypal money to Arden and have them buy him Visa gift cards now that he knew both those possibilities existed.
He tossed the wallet in the bathroom trash, then his shirt after it. He hurriedly cut his hair to #2 clippers length again – dull and amateurish, but they were short on time – and packed his toiletries into the plastic smaller case to go into the duffel, too. Down the hall he could hear Arden swearing, violently tossing things around, slamming drawers. The new shirt was dark red. He settled his black and brown flannel and his jacket over it.
In less than twenty minutes, he was back downstairs with the black canvas bag on his shoulder and the rolled mummy bag on top of that. He could still hear frantic rummaging from above, so he went to the kitchen. He collected all of the protein shakes into a reusable shopping bag and swept the cupboards for anything else nutritive for Arden. There were a couple of boxes of compressed bars, one unopened. He put them into a second bag. Aside from a glass jar of instant coffee (bag) and a lidded travel mug (BITCH PRINCESS, it said in pink rhinestone letters on a black backdrop; also, bag), the cupboards were bare.
He resisted the urge to call up to Arden to hurry. It wouldn’t help. And in any case, it was only a long five minutes before Arden came down the stairs hauling a big rolling bag and carrying an old brown knapsack covered in pins and patches. A wad of blankets was held to the top of the rolling bag with what looked like a couple of dollar-store plastic belts, and a dented metallic blue water bottle hung clipped onto the backpack.
“You don’t have a coat?” Tolly asked.
“I’m not cold,” Arden said. They were shivering.
“We’ll get you one later. Give me your keys.”
“You’ve been in a room for twenty years. You are NOT driving my car,” Arden said. They had wiped off their makeup and, to their credit, Tolly thought, not taken time to reapply it. They looked paler and their under-eyes were darker and baggier.
“Then at least let me load it while you lock up,” Tolly said. He stacked their things in the back of the Kia Soul. It was an odd little thing, not quite an SUV and taller than a car, a muted blue-gray color covered in chips and scratches. He never would have considered buying one.
The car skidded around the gravel drive and out onto the dirt road about fifty minutes from the moment the last body fell. Tolly sat in the front passenger seat, knees slightly cramped. It wasn’t a tiny car, but it wasn’t made for a large man, either.
“Where did you put the bodies? Did you say in that van?” Arden asked. Their hands on the wheel still trembled. They wiped at one cheek pointlessly, scratched the bridge of their nose.
“Yes. The windows are blacked out. But you shouldn’t worry about them, ch – Arden. The Witches will find the bodies first, and they’ll be eager to conceal that anything happened there. We all keep our secrets.”
“Right,” Arden muttered. “You just. Fuck!” They scrubbed at their cheek again. “You just snuffed four people in under five minutes.” They glanced over at him and back at the juddering shape of light made by the car’s headlamps, as if only just fully realizing that. “I guess you did get shot.”
“I’ll be less careless, and stronger,” Tolly said. “Now that I’m restored.”
“Yeah. You’re – you look alive,” Arden said. “Not so pale and veiny. Were your teeth longer before?”
“I can retract them,” Tolly said. “You should take Highway 9 to I-405, and from there to 90 East. We know there’s this Exalted in Bremerton, and I know a place near Snoqualmie Pass.”
“You think it’s still there?” Arden said.
“Or I could get on a plane and you could drive east,” Arden said, turning off the dirt road onto a paved one. “Since you’re apparently sticking around for some reason.” They shot him another look.
“Ownership changes, but the lodge was there eighty years. It probably still is.” He spread his hands. "Nicholas found all of my cars and resting places within over 100 miles of Great Chinook and sold them. You might be able to fly, but there are logistical problems for an undead. If we go east, and keep going east, we at least can make ourselves more inconvenient to find.”
“Simple. If I leave you, you will die, and I will then be forced to serve your killer,” Tolly said. “Who will most likely see me more as Nicholas did than as you do.”
“I don’t know how to see you,” Arden said. “Fuck. Four people, like it was nothing…”
“You must learn to use your gifts,” Tolly said, ignoring this. “Nicholas only left you the Eye of Rule, and me. I don’t know how to teach you spellcraft, so the ring must hold some further clue. You can look at it more carefully when we’re far enough away.”
“Fine, I guess.”
They drove in silence for some time. Arden made the turnoff to 9 without difficulty, and the exit onto I-405; but their shaking grew worse as they navigated through the multi-lane mess that was the approach to the 90-E exit. They hit the rumble strip twice and jerked back onto the road each time.
“Pull off at North Bend,” Tolly said, when they were safely clear of the exit. Traffic wasn’t bad at midnight.
“Why?”
“So I can drive.”
“I can drive just fine,” Arden said.
“No, you can’t. You’re unwell.”
“I’m not fucking unwell, Tolly. I’m scared, all right?” Their voice was high and strained. “I don’t want to be a witch or warlock or whatever you call it. I don’t want to think about the fact that I’m in the car with someone who killed four people and doesn’t know if he wants to kill me – “
“Be careful!” Tolly grabbed at the wheel as the car started to wander toward the guard rail, forcing it back into the lane. They were on an overpass. He would have survived, but Arden wouldn’t. Arden gasped, grabbing at the steering wheel.
They drove in tense silence for another hour. Arden held to the wheel with white-knuckled hands, stiff, gnawing their lip until the rich scent of blood wafted to Tolly’s nostrils. He turned away, lowering the window slightly to get fresher air. It helped only a little. It felt like an eternity before he saw the familiar brown and green sign far ahead.
“Turn off at the next exit,” he said. “It’s there.”
Part 13: Cabin
@fleur-a-whump, @bitchaknso, @valravnthefrenchie, @thewhumpcaretaker
#whump#whumpblr#angst#vampire angst#vampires#non-binary whumpee#vampire caretaker#narrowly-averted car crash#Black Tolly#Arden#Trifold Balance Universe#syncopein3d future reference
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tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls | k.th.
pairing: art-student!taehyung x creative-writing-student!reader
rating: m (18+)
genre: angst | smut | fluff | humor | college!au | established relationship!au
summary: One drink too many at Hoseok’s Halloween party, and you’ve blanked out on the entire night that followed. Now, who’s gonna fill you in when Taehyung looks one second away from breaking into tears when you bring it up with him? From running across the university campus in remnants of your vampire outfit, to dealing with your downtrodden boyfriend’s disappointed stares - you’re left with one hell of a day, and zero recollections.
warnings: swearing + talks of alcohol (literally the whole tHEME of the story) + casual use of the word “amnesia” by careless college students + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts, really explicit makeout sessions, dry-humping, lil bit breast play, lil dirty talking, fingering) + love bites galore.
word count: 19.2 k
note: so. issa a humongous beast, i know. i literally cannot fathom how i wrote these many words without posting anything in between. also, believe it or not, i fleshed out the plot for this fic all the way back in June, 2019. it's taken me nearly two years and a HELL LOTTA editing to the basic storyline to finally be able to finish this off. also, i extended this AU to include all the boys, so...kinda had to rope in their stories, too, lol. hope you enjoy this while i go slave off on the rest of the six fics~ 🥺💜
💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
— masterlist
— feedback is always appreciated!
A knock sounded, seemingly coming from the end of a miles long tunnel. You groaned, pursing your lips against the pounding that echoed in your head in response.
Gosh, what was this? Why was your mind so freaking foggy? What did you do last n—
"Angel? Are you in there with hyung?"
You wrinkled your nose, always hating how your boyfriend's entire group of friends had taken to address you by the pet name he gave you—to the limit where you legitimately didn't always remember that "angel" wasn't your name. They said it was somewhat of a "norm" in their group that came into practice when Jin forbade them all from saying his girl's name. Or getting too friendly by calling her “noona” in a really creepy way.
You'd had eight months' experience of this idiocy now, but that didn't make you cringe any less whenever you heard the address.
You tried swallowing past the sand in your mouth, eyebrows wrinkling as you willed your brain to interpret what the voice said beyond your "name."
And then it registered.
In there? With hyung?
What the hell?
"What? No, hyung, I can’t just rattle the knob to check—what? I might have heard some... wait. Why? What? No! Noona is—no, she's an adult, I'm sure she can make her own decisions! I’m not going to—I'm disconnecting the call, Namjoon-ssi, this is so uncomfortable!"
Your eyes fluttered open in pitch black darkness.
Namjoon-ssi? Who was referring to your dumbheaded best friend with such respect?
Wait, wait, wait.
…noona?
Only one person called you…
"Jungkook?" you muttered, wincing at how horrible you sounded.
Releasing a deep breath, you came to the conclusion that you were dealing with a hangover. A really, really bad hangover, because your recollection of how you got to this point was nil.
Blinking, you opened your eyes wider, looking around in an attempt to catch bearings of where you were, because the overwhelming heat wrapped around your body definitely didn't remind you of your cold ass dorm room.
You squirmed, attempting to stick your feet out of the warm covers that seemed to be stifling you whole, specifically your legs and your midsection.
"Nuuuu~nghhh…"
You froze.
What the—?
The voice—well, more of a groan that you couldn't really comprehend—had come from somewhere near your rib cage.
You pulled your arms down from where they were rested under your pillow, wincing at the soreness that'd taken residence in them. With slight shaky fingers, you reached over to where you hoped the nightstand would be. To your luck, your fingers brushed over a smooth table top before bumping into what felt like a button that could belong to a bedside lamp.
Swallowing the cotton wool lodged in your throat, you pressed down with your index and middle fingers, immediately hissing in discomfort when blinding light burned your corneas.
"Whaaa~nuuuuu…"
Something soft brushed against the underside of your boobs. Your eyes immediately snapped open wide, disregarding the killer headache that ensued. Your heart was pounding hard, fear climbing up your windpipe as you looked down.
Your naked boobs greeted your line of vision, followed by a mop of black hair.
You heaved in a huge gulp of air.
No.
No, no, no, no, this couldn't—
Was this—
Did you—
Were you naked?
You didn't realise when your eyes had squeezed shut, but they fluttered open when a contented hum echoed around you, a small gust of warm breath brushing against your stomach.
"Uh…" You wanted to say something to the fluffy, dark hair moving around over your abdomen, but you were at a loss.
Why was he lying over your naked body? God, was he naked, too?
What the heck had happened last night?
"Whoa." The fluffball on your abdomen moved completely, and a pair of round, pretty eyes connected with yours past your bared breasts. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to. Good morning, baby."
You involuntarily shivered at your boyfriend's gravelly morning voice. The damn pitch that was deeper than the ocean on the regular, tended to penetrate the layers of the earth itself when he woke up.
But…
Oh, God. You had only ever seen him topless. And only seen, not even touched. Or more. So, waking up to being topless and under him was making your heart beat out of your chest, and your body burn with sparks, all over.
"Um, Tae…"
"Hmm?" Plump lips connected to your skin, dragging over the sides of your breasts.
Your breathing was immediately unsteady even when your eyes widened in alarm. "T—Tae, wait…" You swallowed thickly when he climbed up your body and set his hands on the bed next to your pillow, his face hovering inches above yours.
You breathed in, preparing to speak past the bundle of nerves in your throat, and—froze.
A corner of your lips twitched.
His eyes were surrounded by huge pools of black, that you could now recall was eyeliner that you'd meticulously applied on him, last evening. The bright red lipstick he'd gone for in order to finish off his vampire look, was now smudged all the way down to his chin.
Despite the killer throbbing in your head and your panic at your state of undress, you couldn't hold back a fit of laughter at the sight. "Tae, baby—your makeup…" You managed to mumble between bouts of uncontrollable giggles.
Taehyung just grinned at you, shaking his head in silent humor. "As if you're any better. Ooh, look at this!" His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on your neck. "Your neck looks like you got attacked by a vampire, baby."
You smacked his chest with a harrumph, ignoring the warm, firm feel of it, rolling your eyes when he broke into laughter. "Pretty sure you were the one that did it, smartass."
"Well. I don't see a problem with it. We were supposed to be vampire mates, after all." Flashing you a smirk that would've been a lot more irresistible to you if it weren't for all the smudged lipstick on his face, Taehyung rolled off your body to sit at the edge of the bed. "This headache, though… ugh…" He groaned, massaging his forehead with a hand. "How much did we have to drink, Angel?
You slowly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets to cover yourself all the way up to your neck. Your brows furrowed in concern. How much did you have to drink, for real? The way you couldn't seem to recall literally anything from the party last night was kind of a sign that it had gone beyond your limits.
Clearing your throat in nervousness, you lifted the edge of the sheet to take a peek at yourself, breathing a tiny sigh of relief on finding your panties still wrapped around your hips. So at least you hadn't gone all the way, right?
Right?
"Hey, Tae," you called out, stopping your boyfriend on his way to the bathroom. He was clad only in a pair of boxers that accentuated his plump butt, which was also a first time experience for you, but you figured that it was better than nothing. "We, uh, what did we do last night?"
Taehyung looked at you over his shoulder, brows slightly creased in confusion. "What? We went to Hobi hyung's Halloween party, baby, dressed as vampires. Hence the makeup…?"
You shook your head, gulping down your nerves. Taehyung had completely turned around to look at you, now, arms crossed against his bare chest. In spite of the ridiculously smudged makeup on his face, he made a damn appealing sight. You willed your gaze to not stray down to his sculpted thighs for the sake of your own sanity.
"Angel?"
"I—I mean...after," you mumbled with flaming cheeks.
Your asshole of a boyfriend grinned wickedly at that, moving his hands to place them on his hips. "Uh huh. After, baby? What do you think?" He gave you an exaggerated wink.
You looked down at your fingernails, your entire body almost shivering out of nervousness and each one of your nerve endings inducing sparks all across your body. You were pretty sure you were blushing all the way from your ears, down to your chest.
Soft thumps of feet padding across the floor echoed around the room. You felt his warmth near you before his fingers tapped beneath your chin, prompting you to look up.
You did, eyes widened and breathing halted.
Taehyung's brows were lowered and lips pursed together as he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes. "Do you…do you not remember anything?"
The hesitation in his voice almost caused your heart to stop beating. Why was he being like this? Had the two of you actually done it, last night?
And…you didn't even remember anything?
"Angel?"
"Oh, God, Taehyung! Why do I not remember?" you suddenly cried out.
"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay!"
What? No, it wasn't.
You'd had sex with your boyfriend for the first ever time after eight months of dating, four out of which you'd spent dreaming extremely lewd and inappropriate dreams about him, and now―and now you didn't remember it!
"I'll go take a shower, and then we can talk about last night. Okay, baby? Hey, look at me," Taehyung softly spoke to you, carding long, elegant fingers of one of his hands through your hair. He cupped your cheek with the other. "Don't worry, Angel, you're just hungover right now. I'm sure it'll all come back once your head's feeling better."
You swallowed thickly, kinda pissed at yourself for feeling so emotional about this, but kinda more pissed at your drunk self for doing the do with the love of your life when she knew she was too far gone to retain the memories.
"I love you, baby," said love of your life murmured to you, leaning in to peck your forehead softly.
"Love you too, baby," you mumbled back, watching, from the corner of your eye, as his shapely ass made its way down the room and into the bathroom.
You exhaled, loudly. Even though you loved him beyond measure and trusted him completely, you didn't wanna talk to Taehyung, right now. He remembered everything from last night, and the torn, hesitant, kinda hurt look in his eyes made you feel insecure and disadvantaged.
You knew you had to cure your hangover first, vent out about how dumb you felt, and have someone reassure you that forgetting about your first time with your boyfriend wasn't the end of the world, before having that conversation with Taehyung.
And you also knew how you were gonna accomplish that.
You needed your best friend.
You’d already pounded on the door like crazy twice by the time you first heard movement from inside. What the hell was Namjoon busy with now? Hadn't he called Jungkook up just a while earlier, causing the boy to wake you up?
It was one o'clock on a Sunday morning, anyway. There was no way someone like Namjoon was busy.
Wait. Hadn’t he been at the party last night, too? You couldn’t really recall, to be honest.
God, what was Hobi serving last night?
Tapping your feet impatiently, you scratched at your cheek. The water base, super dry moisturiser you’d stolen from your boyfriend’s roommate was definitely not meant to suit your skin type. But you had no choice. You were in a crisis. You had needed to escape the dorm before Taehyung came out of the bathroom, and you couldn’t have exactly walked out with the remnants of last night’s vampire makeup all over your face.
You looked down at your ridiculous attire consisting of the leather shorts you wore last night, topped with a huge, off white sweatshirt you'd found lying over the living room couches. You guessed it was Taehyung's, but you were, embarrassingly, not completely certain and it very well could have been Jungkook's. Either way, it didn't really matter, ’cause, as mentioned before, you were in a freaking crisis. Your feet were wrapped up in the spare pair of bathroom slippers you kept at Tae's.
Exhaling loudly, you pulled up your arm to bang heavily against the damn door, again. "Where the fuck are you, Namjoon? Open up!"
Mere seconds later, grumbles seeped through the door to you, and then it was slowly unbolted.
You were gonna straight up fall into Namjoon and legit beg him to comfort you until your body melted—
"Well, hello there, sexy cheeks! What a pleasant surprise!"
You groaned aloud. Just what you needed to make this morning a bigger headache—your best friend's roadside romeo, can-never-keep-it-in-his-pants, creep of a roommate. "Jackson. Get the fuck out of my w—"
"And, FYI, I was referring to your ass cheeks."
You gritted your teeth. "Where's Joon?"
The cocky guy in front of you shifted to set his hips against the doorjamb. "Sleeping. He came in late, last night. That damned loser was at the party till two am on a Saturday night, and didn’t even bring a girl back home. What a fucking waste."
You squinted at him. "Bullshit. He called Jungkook earlier."
"Yeah, well, he went back to sleep after that. It's Sunday, sexy cheeks, even a nerd like Joon is allowed to sleep in today. He's been working his ass off at the library for a couple nights, anyway."
"Stop stereotyping him." You rolled your eyes. "Will you move?"
Jackson's silver blonde hair moved across his forehead as he tilted his head to look at you with a sly grin. "What if I refuse?"
"I'll stab you and walk over your body."
His eyes momentarily widened, but then he gave a nervous giggle. "O–oh? We won't want that to happen now, would we? Come on in, sexy cheeks!"
"Stop calling me that!" you snapped, walking into the dorm and heading straight towards Namjoon's bedroom.
"What? But that's my pet name for you! I don't wanna call you Angel like the rest of the fucking college!"
"It's just seven guys, Wang, jeez. Also, I actually have a name?" you yelled over your shoulder, fiddling with the awful door knob on Namjoon's bedroom door that was almost always jammed. Like it was right now. Good God!
"Your name? That's so mainstream, babe, have some respect for my vibe, at the very least."
"I'm not your babe!"
"But you could be!"
"I'll slap you, Jackson, shut the—" you broke off with a grunt as the doorknob finally twisted free. But your relief had a super short life, because then you had to nearly cause your shoulder to rupture when you tried to get the door to budge. "Why does this idiot not complain about getting this shitty fucking door changed? He'll get stuck in there someday and die, I'm telling you."
"Whoa. You're contemplating way too many murders for a Sunday morning, sexy cheeks. All okay?"
You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "You want me to actually commit one of them?"
Jackson's eyes widened and he slowly retracted his steps to the kitchen, where he presumably was before he came to open the door, given the apron he'd tied over his muscle tee and the random patches of white powder that covered his exposed upper arms. You rolled your eyes once again, and gave a particularly hard push to the door, making yourself stumble in as the door suddenly opened.
Namjoon stood on the other side, though, eyes barely open and silver blonde hair mussed.
He was shirtless, in the process of trying to unwind a twisted up t-shirt. "Whoa, whoa—hol' up—when did I say you could come in?"
You paused. Your eyebrows lowered. Your eyes narrowed. The audacity?!
"I've seen you pantless, Namjoon," you deadpanned.
"Wha—is that even a word—"
"Dude, I've seen your penis when it wasn't as big as my pinky toe!"
"Okay, hang on now, it's got to be at least the pinky finger—"
"We were four. It was the pinky toe." You exhaled when Namjoon gave up and went back to getting into a t-shirt over his plaid shorts. "Are you not looking at me, right now? Do you not see what kind of a wreck I am? What sort of a best friend are you?"
"Uh, a sleep deprived one? And, for the record, I actually am not looking at you, 'cause my eyes aren't exactly open and functioning at the moment, anyway."
You shot him a glare, but then exhaled and slumped down on his bed with your shoulders drooped. "I fucked up, Joonie."
Namjoon stopped in the process of blindly hunting for his glasses in the top drawer of his nightstand. He looked at you, complete with his swollen ass eyes and bee stung lips. You would have laughed if your own tragedy wasn't laughable in itself.
"Stop gawking!"
Namjoon shut his mouth and straightened up. "I, uh… You fucked up? Kinda hard to swallow. You're an inspiration to everyone, babe. Angel never fucks up."
You groaned a little upon hearing the wretched "pet name" tumble so smoothly from your best friend's lips. "Angel? Really, Joon?"
Namjoon shrugged, standing on his toes and extending his arms above his head in a full body stretch before he settled on the twin bed next to you. "I've got to, hun. You know how Jin hyung gets when he hears any of us call you anything but Angel."
"He's not here right now, though, is he?"
"Well, I'm trying to practice." He shrugged a shoulder. "So, are you here to pointlessly argue with me, or are you here to discuss how, exactly, did you fuck up? You were with Tae last night from what I gathered out of Jungkook's flustered half-sentences. Did something happen between you guys?"
"Yes?" You grimaced. And then you thickly swallowed. "I… I had sex with Taehyung.”
You looked at him when Namjoon had been silent for too long. He was blinking at you. "I don't see any fucking up happening, Angel, only fucking Tae."
Oh, how you'd slap him into the next galaxy if you had the energy at the moment. "Kim Namjoon, I swear to God—"
"Okay, okay, sorry. So. How does having sex with your boyfriend equate to fucking up? What'd I miss?"
You sighed. "I was completely hammered, and don't remember a single thing."
Namjoon's eyebrows rose very slowly. "Wait…what?"
You frowned. "Don't make me repeat it, Joon."
"I'm not, girl, but. Just. I—I don't seem to comprehend."
"I had sex with him for the first fucking time, Namjoon, and I don't remember a single detail! You know, I wanted to know how it all went down, how intense, sexy and gorgeous he looked on top of me. I wanted to save it to my memory. If he was on top. Otherwise, what he looked like when desperate and begging below me."
"Wait—"
"But I remember nothing! I'm so embarrassed, Joon! Maybe he put those gorgeous ass fingers of his to good use. I bet he did!"
"Hey—"
"I don't even know if he ate me out or if I sucked him off, because I would have loved to, before we—"
"Holy fuck, stop! I don’t wanna hear that, gross!" Namjoon pressed both his palms against his ears, his face pulled into an expression of utter disgust. His mouth opened, probably to give you a piece of scolding, but then his gaze dropped to your exposed collarbones and his eyebrows raised. He removed his hands with wide eyes. "Now, I don’t know about those dirty freaking details, and I don’t want to—but I can guess that your night was definitely passionate. Maybe a bit rough."
You frowned, following his line of sight—
And then sprung to your feet with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit! What the hell—"
"Whoa—"
You gripped the neckline of the hoodie and tugged it away from your chest. "He left bruises, Joon, these aren't just bites!"
"Wait, wait—"
"God damn—" You struggled to wrestle the hoodie off your body.
"No—"
"I need to fucking see, Joon—"
"But I don't!" Namjoon squeaked.
You managed to remove the hoodie completely, your hands busy patting around your boobs to feel for bruises. You looked up at your best friend to find him turned away with both his palms pressed up against his eyes.
It took you a moment to realise that he was throwing a fit about you being topless in front of him. You exhaled. "Must I remind you that you've seen me pantless, too, Joon?"
"We were kids! And now we're not! I don't wanna pop a boner for my childhood best friend that I've shared poops with!"
You grimaced. "You won't, Joon. It's as you said—we've shared poops. It's physically impossible for us to get turned on by each other."
"I'm still a straight guy, though, and boobs are boobs."
You clicked your tongue, choosing to walk into his bathroom to, partially, save him from dying out of panic, but mostly analyse your upper body in the mirror.
You hummed to yourself when you found a blossoming patch of pink right under your left boob, and an almost navy spot above your right nipple.
You fought a whimper of despair. Sex with Taehyung seemed like something that’d get you wet by memories alone. But you'd already missed your first chance to make them.
You grumpily stomped back to Namjoon's bed and collected the hoodie you'd tossed on it. Pulling it over, you smacked a turned away Namjoon upside his head. "I'm dressed, loser."
"Not wanting to see your boobs makes me a loser?"
"Making a big fucking deal out of it while I'm stuck in a very embarrassing and kind of an impossible situation does!"
“Oh my God, fine! Let’s just talk about that stupid, overthinking brain of yours.”
Your mouth falls open. “The fuck? I’m not overthinking, Joon, for the love of—”
“Okay! Just—stop with all the cursing, you sound like Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get the basics down, then. Observe, analyse and calculate. You’ll tell me about how you feel in certain...areas of your body, and then we’ll conclude if any sex even actually happened or if you’re fussing over nothing. ’Kay?”
You dumbly blinked. If any sex even actually happened? You didn’t need any testing for that, Taehyung’s face had been more than enough to tell you. “No?” you sneered at Namjoon. “I know it happened. I need to know how to recall the details. Do you know, like, some brain exercise or something? Like, running a mental disk defragmenter of sorts?”
Namjoon sighed. “Listen—”
“Also, can you please dye your hair and stop twinning with the asshole next door? I feel like I’m talking to him and it makes me wanna puke.”
Namjoon sighed again. “He’s gonna dye his hair to match mine like he always does, it’s pointless.”
“Then shave it off.”
“Ouch, woman.”
“What?” You scowled at him, rummaging through his wardrobe to try and make yourself slightly more presentable. “And get ready. We’re gonna go get some breakfast. Greasy and cheesy. And you’re gonna tell me what to do. And I’m calling Munchkin to join us.”
As you carried a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom, you heard your best friend murmur something like, “this is gonna be a long day.”
Taehyung sat sprawled all over the living room couch, barely looking up when Jungkook's room's door opened. His eyes kept digging holes into your phone that you'd left behind when you made your—very obviously hurried—exit while he was in the shower. Why, though?
Taehyung was fucking confuddled.
"Oh, finally!" Jungkook's surprised voice floated over to him moments before the boy himself rounded the couch to look down at him, entering his peripheral vision with a water bottle in hands. "Where's noona? Tell her to call Namjoon hyung, he rang me up…worrying…about her…um. Hyung? You okay?"
Taehyung blinked, raising his brows as he hummed in question, refocusing his gaze on the younger boy. "What?"
"Did you, uh, hear anything I said?" Jungkook looked at him cautiously, taking wary sips of water.
"Yeah, I heard." Taehyung looked down at his hands. "She's not here, she left."
"Left? On her own? You didn’t drop her off?" Jungkook sounded innocently curious. He chuckled. "You still hungover, or what?"
Taehyung sighed. "Well, no. But she didn't ask me to drop her. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Also left her phone behind, for some reason."
"Maybe she was in a hurry to get away from you after last night?" Jungkook's eyes were wide in alarm even before Taehyung shot him a glare. "Sorry, I didn't… Um. That was a stupid joke, I don’t even know why I said that when I don't even know anything. Um. Sorry."
"No, you're probably right," Taehyung regretfully mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "She was gone within five minutes."
"And is that why she stole my hoodie, too?"
Taehyung's head snapped up, again. What did he mean by that? He found Jungkook frowning at one of the armrests of the couch. "The fuck did you say?"
Jungkook's big, innocent eyes looked at him in panic. "I—I mean, I left it here after I spilt ketchup on it! Remember yesterday's lunch burgers? And now it's…well. Not here."
Taehyung rolled his eyes, secretly exhaling in relief, while at the same time annoyed at himself for thinking stupid shit. And also at Jungkook for making him think it. "The hell, Kook? How does that mean she took it?"
Jungkook squinted at him. "Okay, so then did you take it? Because I sure as heck didn't touch it, hyung."
Taehyung stilled, realising that the boy was probably right, because the top you'd worn last night was still lying on his bedroom floor. He bit his lip. Had you actually been in such a hurry to get away? Get away from him?
Did you…hate him for last night? But you'd very clearly reassured him that you wanted it and were ready and you looked actually excited about it.
You’d looked really excited about it.
But maybe you were too sloshed to think then, but were trying to avoid him with your mind sober. Maybe you regretted agreeing.
Oh no. Oh no.
"We were drunk off our asses, last night," he tried to fruitlessly dissuade Jungkook, his voice coming out tight. Because what did it even matter if you'd already changed your mind? "Maybe your drunk ass used it to clean up your whizz and then threw it out your window and forgot?"
Jungkook's gaze turned even more speculative.
Taehyung looked away, eyes landing back on your phone. Distress gripped him.
"Um."
Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Say it."
Jungkook cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Taehyung looked up to meet his shifty eyes. "Did you, uh. Did you and noona have a fight?"
Taehyung slunk lower in his place. "No, but we would now."
Jungkook cleared his throat in response before soundly gulping down water.
Taehyung almost laughed at his discomfort. The younger probably felt Taehyung needed some sort of counseling or suggestions, but he really didn't. And it wasn't just because he and Jungkook were not the best of friends despite being roommates for nearly a year now and part of the same group of friends for nearly six. No, he actually did not want it because that would make him worry that much more. He'd rather talk to you—apologize to you and try to make you understand as much as he'd be able to—whenever you decided to contact him.
Not that Jungkook would be good at consoling him, either way—the boy was horrible with words and had zero tact. His world revolved around gaming and studying music and minimal human interaction, a complete contrast to everything Taehyung was. Which was somewhat of a reason why they worked out so well as roommates.
"Uh…we…um. Nevermind." Jungkook turned to leave.
Taehyung mustered a chuckle. "Say it, Kook."
"Do you wanna go to Jin hyung's?" he spoke in a single breath.
Jin—the oldest in their group of friends and also the one Taehyung was the closest to—lived in a four bedroom apartment shared by Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin, and often, Jin's girlfriend, too, which was owned by a family member of Hoseok's. Namjoon, your best friend and the final member of the group, lived in a dorm on the other side of the campus, similar to Taehyung's own, with a school friend of his.
Now. Jungkook, being the youngest of the entire lot, was extremely insecure and conscious of himself around Jin. And so, despite nearly licking the very ground Yoongi walked on due to the guy's musical prowess that Jungkook was a fan of, the younger boy always tried to avoid visiting the house if not for extreme case scenarios when the entire group gathered there for activities that he was not allowed to skip. He usually just called Yoongi over.
And he was suggesting they visit? This had to have taken some guts.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna go to that house?"
"Well, not really." Jungkook's cheeks tinged pink. "But you look like you could use Jin hyung's advice and stuff. He also, um, makes yummy hot chocolate. Jimin hyung and Hobi hyung could cheer you up, and. Um. Yoongi hyung could help me with my…semester project?"
"And here I thought you were being thoughtful!" Taehyung let out a laugh. “You just want Yoongi hyung’s help, you selfish brat.”
Jungkook ducked his head. “A little bit of both?” He clicked his tongue, whining. "Come on, hyung, I'm trying here!"
"I know, I know." Taehyung rolled his eyes but nodded, ending Jungkook's misery.
He eyed your phone and released a shaking, nervous breath.
“Well, I'm sort of driving myself nuts by sitting here. Let’s just go.”
“This is a disaster.”
You thumped your head against the table, groaning. “Gee, thanks, babe. Makes me feel so much better. I should’ve just gone back to the dorm. Wendy would’ve given me ice cream, at least.”
Your other only-best-friend-in-this-world—other than Namjoon, that is—rolled her mascara laden eyes. “It’s not my duty to make you feel better. I’m here to show you the mirror and be honest, not give you ice cream and kiss your boo-boos like your pussy roommate. That’s not helping. That’s ignoring the problem.”
“Fair point.” You sat up and looked down in your lap. “So. Do you honestly think I’m doomed?”
“I honestly think you’re stupid.”
You shot a glare at her.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! You yourself said you both had your lower regions covered, right?” At your nod, she clicked her tongue. “So you’re not even sure if you had sex, in the first place. And even if you did, so what? He’s your freaking boyfriend, bitch! Grab him and do the do whenever!”
“Will you tone it down?”
You jumped. And then scoffed when Namjoon settled on the empty chair on your other side, putting the tray of your frothing, steaming beverages down between you three.
"Tell me why you nicknamed this one munchkin and not guerrilla, again?" Namjoon grumbled, scowling at your girl best friend. "She's got their lung capacity."
"Because she's got munchkin legs," you mumbled, hurriedly bringing the styrofoam cup to your mouth to taste nirvana. “Ah, this is so good! And she walks super slow, like a freakin’ munchkin.”
"Oh, so that's also an insult?" Namjoon looked at your best friend with gleaming eyes. "I thought it was a pet name!"
Her eyes narrowed at Namjoon for a second, before her expressions dropped into a lascivious smile. "You thought it was cute, didn't you?" she dramatically batted her lashes, leaning closer to Namjoon, pushing her voluminous chest out. “You think I’m cute too, dontcha, Joon bug?”
Namjoon, immune to her dramatic, completely unnecessary seduction, blew a raspberry in her face.
“Ew, you animal!” she shrieked, flinching away as droplets of spit rained on her face. “Gross!”
“You asked for it,” Namjoon deadpanned, sipping from his cup.
“Guys,” you began. “Can we please talk about what I should do?”
“Uh, can I please also mention what you should not have done?” Munchkin squinted at you. At your noncommittal shrug, her expressions morphed into a sharp glare. “Sneak out. I mean, he’s your damn boyfriend of nearly quarter of a year, babe! Why the hell would you want to confide in Captain Dumbass, over here, and not him?”
“My IQ’s greater than you, but other than that—valid point, dude.” Namjoon turned to stare you down. “When it all winds down, and you end up sorting it out, he’s still gonna be hurt that you ran away, man.”
You bit your lip. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I forgot my phone at his place, too, so I couldn’t even text him.”
This time Munchkin turned her horrified gaze at Namjoon, and Namjoon at you. “What?” he squeaked. “You haven’t even texted him this entire time? Why didn’t you ask for my phone?”
“It’s almost three,” Munchkin mumbled. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” Her eyes suddenly turned wicked. “Imagine the angry sex.”
You snorted, bitterly. “How? I got fucking amnesia after our first time together, remember? I don’t even know what to imagine.”
Your best friends groaned in unison.
The second Hoseok invited them in, Jungkook went off like an arrow towards the direction of Yoongi's room.
Taehyung gave a dry chuckle, raising his eyebrows at Hoseok’s puffy eyes as he waved his hand before the guy’s face in greeting. “Good morning, hyung!” he said with fake cheeriness to grate on the elder’s nerves.
Hoseok gave him the most venomous scowl Taehyung had ever seen on the guy’s face and walked away.
“He was cleaning up till six am and then Jin hyung woke him up at nine to go grocery shopping!” Jimin called from his slump on the couch, past the entry hall. “Poor guy didn’t even get to get his dick wet in his own party.”
“Of course you’d mention that,” Taheyung snorted, moving to join Jimin in what seemed like a Netflix marathon. “What’s this?” He nodded towards the 50-inch.
“Pretty Little Liars,” Jimin mumbled, lifting his feet enough to make room for Taehyung and then rested them back in his lap. “It’s a story of some girls. Who lie. Because that is all that girls fucking do, apparently.”
Taehyung, despite his mental disposition, found himself snorting in amusement for the second time. “Where’s Jin hyung?”
“Dropping noona off at Jackson’s. They’re in a fight, so don’t ask him about her.” Jimin raised a brow. “All okay?”
“They're fighting? How're you handling it?" Taehyung teased, well aware of Jimin's fear of conflicts between the group's oldest couple, and got a glare back. "And, not all's okay. Kinda had a shitty night.”
“Could not have been shittier than mine. You came in with your babe, made out in every corner of the house, held her when she did a keg stand, leftmaking out—what could go wrong?”
Taehyung grimaced but didn’t protest. “When did Jin hyung leave? I didn’t see him on my way over. Why’s Honey noona even friends with that pretentious jackass Jackson, nobody likes him,” he chose to comment on Jin’s girlfriend’s questionable life choices, instead.
“Nobody but Namjoon. Don’t forget they live together. And he and noona are family friends, you know that.” Jimin frowned. “Why’re you so eager to see Jin hyung? He didn’t really say when he’d get back. Maybe he and Honey noona are…making-up. If you know what I mean. I sincerely hope they are,” he added with a despaired stare skywards as if tossing a prayer up to God.
“Shut up, pervert. I'll just text him.” Taehyung waved a dismissive hand, pulling out his phone.
Jimin cleared his throat. “At least ask me why my night was shittier, you ass.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes, shooting Jimin a flat look. “You didn’t get laid, I already know it.”
“Well, that, yes. But also, the circumstances leading up to me not getting laid? Ugh.” Jimin scrunched his nose. “So there’s this cute, little, busty babe, okay? Shaking her boobs up in my face, and I know she wants to fuck, but. I can see how sloshed she is, so I, you know? Hold back.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows, still typing away on his phone. “Doubt that.”
“I did, okay? Wait till you hear the rest of it.” Jimin’s head dangled off the armrest, upside down and Taehyung could only see his neck as he spoke. “She comes on too strong, and at one point—I can’t resist. But when she’s on her knees, she’s so confused that I… man, I felt so bad. She was wasted, dude!” Jimin pulled himself back up, nestling his head against the armrest as he frowned at Taehyung. “So I tell her no. She cries. I try to comfort her, but she just keeps sobbing. And then she fucking throws up all over my carpet and—I still fucking try to take care of her. And, you know, after I’ve given her hugs and a water bottle and so much pep talk—her phone rings and she says she has to go. Now, get this.” Jimin sits up, now scowling at Taehyung. “She has a fucking boyfriend.”
Taehyung couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst out of him, his head rolling back against the back of the couch as he held his stomach. Just the one time in his life Jimin tried to be a gentleman, it backfired. But it served Jimin right for trying to get into everyone’s pants. He told the guy as much.
Jimin scoffed. “I don’t try to get into everyone’s pants, dude. I’ve never tried to turn the charm on you, have I?”
“’Cause you know you’d fail.”
“I would not and you better believe that, Kim Taehyung.” Jimin suddenly licked his lips and sat up to get into Taehyung's personal space. “You see these lips? They—”
“Yah, Park Jimin! Get your paws off my dongsaeng!” Jin entered the house with a booming yell.
Taehyung sighed in relief, grateful for more reasons than one. “Morning, hyung!”
“It’s afternoon, brat!”
“I thought he was your dongsaeng?” Jimin mocked. “And for the record, he’s mine, too.”
“I’m barely three months younger, Jimin, fuck off.”
“Tae! Leave this idiot be and go wait in my room. I’ll join you in a bit.”
Taehyung stood up to locate Jin to find the older one heating something up in the microwave, aggressively pushing things around. It was a strange sight. Jin’s temperament was always cooler than a cucumber. And he especially tended to his kitchen appliances and utensils with an impossibly tender hand. He was clearly agitated, completely unlike how he normally was. Was his fight with his girlfriend that bad?
As if sensing his gaze, Jin looked up, concern shining in his eyes when they met Taehyung’s. Taehyung imagined his own must have reflected it back. “You okay, hyung?”
Jin sighed. “Been better,” he tiredly mumbled, running a hand down his face. “I saw your texts. I gather you haven’t eaten?”
Taehyung nodded, silently, walking around the couch to join the older in the kitchen. Settling on a stool, he observed Jin's furrowed eyebrows and set jaw. Something had to have happened recently, or he'd have noticed something in Jin's behaviour earlier.
“I haven’t eaten either, hyung,” Jimin yelled from the living room, sounding offended instead of whiny or seductive, for once. “This sort of favoritism is too much, even for you.”
Jin narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “You know, every time Honey ignores me, I'm immediately reminded of how you could have taken that blonde to your own room, Park Jimin. So no, the favouritism isn't too much. And for the record, you’re more than capable of feeding yourself. This one? Not so much, right now.”
Taehyung hung his head, curious about what all Jin just said to Jimin, but also immensely floored by Jin’s concern for his own well being. Despite clearly not being in the right state of mind himself, he was still caring for Taehyung. He mentally thanked Jungkook for bringing him here.
Clearing his throat, Taehyung placed his hands on the kitchen counter. “When I didn't see Honey-noona at the party last night, I thought it was work related. You two often skip parties to catch up on your beauty sleep and all that. Is something the matter, hyung?"
Jin extracted some sort of noodles from the microwave and shut his eyes. "She's mad at me."
Taehyung's eyebrows rose. Jin and his girl had been together for over five years, now. They were past the stages of fighting over petty things. It had to be serious. "Oh?"
"And it was triggered by something that idiot did!" Jin finished, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin.
The latter clicked his tongue. "For the last time, hyung," Jimin called out, sounding exasperated, "she’s mad over something else. The sooner you figure that out instead of blaming me every time you meet her, the faster your fight would be resolved.” He peeked at Jin over the couch's back. "And can you please make a quick work of it? I hate this phase…"
Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted up. Escaping the blame—classic Jimin. “What, exactly, did you do, Jimin? What blonde didn’t you take to your own room?” he asked, repeating Jin’s words from earlier.
“Irrelevant. He’s actually correct,” Jin interrupted, walking out of the kitchen. “You'll understand when I tell you. But right now, let’s talk about your problem. Come on.”
Although Taehyung was both curious and worried about Jin’s fight, he was more downtrodden due to his own situation at the moment, so he decided to follow the older boy upstairs, to Jin's room.
On entering the room, Taehyung slumped into Jin’s armchair while the man himself turned on the lights and made his way towards Taehyung with a water bottle and a huge bowl of reheated chicken noodles in hands.
Taehyung uncapped the bottle as soon as it was handed to him, not realising how badly parched all the worrying had gotten him.
“I, uh, went to the shop you texted me. Have you guys really talked it through?”
Taehyung’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, swallowing a huge gulp of water.
Jin cracked a smile for the first time. “One of the thirteen texts you sent me was about this shop, remember? It was on the way, so I dropped by to look around, but I couldn't really choose—”
Taehyung’s phone rang, interrupting Jin. It was Namjoon. They both frowned.
What if the guy was still calling to ask about you, like he did this morning? Taehyung had assumed that you’d have talked to Namjoon, at least. His eyes widened when it hit him — you’d left your phone behind, how would you contact anybody?
He looked at Jin. Jin crossed his arms in front of his chest, gesturing to the phone with his eyes. “Pick it up.”
With sweaty hands, Taehyung picked up. “Hey, Joon hyung.”
Silence. He frowned.
“Hello?”
More silence. And then a hushed, indecipherable whisper sounded in the background which was followed by what sounded like a slap. Taehyung’s breath hitched.
“Angel?”
A sharp intake of breath filtered through the speakers to him. But then nothing else.
“Whe—” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Tae.” Your voice was light, airy, almost like a whisper, but it managed to weigh down on his heart. “I’m okay.”
Of course, you were. You’d chosen to see Namjoon, apparently. Why wouldn’t you be okay?
“I—I’m sorry for leaving like…that. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way.”
Taehyung was at a loss. “Wrong way? Angel, I…” He exhaled, shutting his eyes. In what way had he taken it? In what way was he supposed to take it? “Why did you leave, baby?”
No response. Taehyung’s heart seemed to keep on sinking.
“When can I see you again? We need to talk about last night. You know that, right?” He licked his lips and looked up at Jin. At the elder’s nod, he continued, “we need to finalize what we discussed. You get me?”
“I’ll see you tonight, Tae.” Your voice sounded tightly wound with emotions.
Taehyung took that as a good sign. “That’s great. I’ll be…I, uh. Just text me when you get to the dorm. Your phone’s on the coffee table. I’m at Jin hyung’s, I’ll come immediately.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. Um. Tae? I love you.”
Taehyung could breathe again. “I love you, too, Angel. I love you so much.”
He’d barely disconnected the call when Jin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get some food in you and come with me. I went to the shop, but couldn’t really make the right purchase. You’ll have to do that yourself.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But I already told her to come see me! You nodded!”
Jin rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of noodles and stuffing them into Taehyung’s mouth that was hung open in surprise. “Because we have plenty of time, genius! It’s three in the afternoon. We’d be able to make it back before six, at any cost. Don’t worry about it.”
Taehyung took the bowl of food from him, his appetite announcing itself as soon as a bite of savoury deliciousness touched his tongue. Stuffing his face, he nodded at his phone. “Could you please put that to charge? It’s almost dead.”
And then he smiled to himself. He was gonna make everything right, tonight.
“I’m pretty sure five o’clock doesn’t count as ‘night’ in any culture across the globe.”
You ignored Munchkin’s sarcastic remark as you stepped out of the car, and gave Namjoon a grateful peck on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here, Joon.”
“Great. Ignore me and then cry when there’re consequences.”
Waving a butterfly wave at a fuming Munchkin and a chuckling Namjoon, you stepped into Taehyung’s dorm building. You knew you were early, but your nerves didn’t allow you to sit still at Namjoon’s place. You didn’t dare go back to your own dorm, knowing how chaotic Wendy tended to get and not able to muster the energy you usually needed to deal with her.
Taehyung lived in the larger, spacier and definitely pricier North Dorms. They were more like mini-apartments, with individual rooms and a living room area along with a whole kitchen instead of the tiny kitchenette you had with your own South Dorms. Namjoon lived in the East Dorms, similar in design to these, but in a wackier condition and slightly less pricey.
Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You would take your phone, text Taehyung to inform him of your arrival, have a glass of water, and patiently wait. Jungkook wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, so you’d have some time to yourself before Taehyung for here, which you planned to utilise by giving yourself mental pep talks.
You were gonna come clean to your boyfriend and tell him that you remembered none of last night, profusely apologise for panicking and running out on him, and then, if the mood allowed for it, request him to give you a refresher that you’d be sure to memorise properly, this time.
The door was opened. Jungkook immediately jumped, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw you. “Oh, my God!”
You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Hey, Jungkook. May I come in?”
He gaped at you for a few more seconds before shaking his head as if to break his shock induced trance. “Ye—uh. I mean, yes, you could, but hyung’s not home.”
You nodded. “I know.”
Just as you’d made to move ahead, Jungkook stopped you. His eyebrows were arched. “Unless, you don’t wanna see him and are here to grab your things—in which case, I really won’t let you in.”
You frowned. “What? No, I need to get my phone so that—”
“Absolutely not!” Jungkook blocked the door with an arm. “You’ve got to talk to hyung once before making any rash decisions, and I won’t—”
“Wait, what? Rash decisions?”
“—might be a bit young and inexperienced, but I will not be an accomplice in the ploy to get Tae hyung’s heart broken—”
“Heart broken?” You balked at him while Jungkook kept on spewing stuff that made absolutely no sense to you. “Jungkook?”
“—no clue what actually happened, but because you really should’ve stayed to talk instead of running away from hyung—”
“Jungkook!”
“—not been emotional, but this really kind of hurt me, too, and you have no idea how much hyung was—”
“For fucks sake, Jungkook!” You held the guy with both his shoulders, making him immediately shut up. “Are you even listening to me? Stop speaking!”
He blinked. “Um—”
“Stop!” You held a finger in front of his face. “Zip it up. Zero noise. Absolute silence.”
At his nod, you retracted your hands and pushed past him to enter the dorm. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up your phone which was kept on the coffee table—just as Tae had told you it would be—and opened your chat box with him.
Tae❤
hey babe, im here
ik im a bit early but dw, take your time
i will wait
i love u 🥺
SENT at 17:03
“I have come to talk to Tae and apologize, Jungkook,” you finally said, turning to face the guy who was still awkwardly standing at the open door. “Now please shut the door and go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna be here, waiting till he comes. I’ve texted him.”
Jungkook closed the door, very slowly, still looking at you warily. “You aren’t going to break up with him?”
“What? Of course not! I love him!”
He visibly relaxed, even letting a hint of a smile swim onto his face. “That’s good to hear. I thought I’d messed up.”
You frowned, scrunching your nose up in confusion. “Wait a second, you had messed up? How?”
Releasing an immensely loud sigh, Jungkook walked up to sit next to you on the couch. “Uh…” He bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Well, you all know how horrible I am with words, right? It’s half the reason why I don’t talk much. I get too upfront, accidentally, and it gets horribly worse if I’ve deduced a situation wrongly and spoken about it.”
You gave a small chuckle. Jungkook was adorable, at times, looking way younger than his age. Not that you knew his exact age. You were certain he called you noona just because Taehyung was his hyung, and not because he knew your exact age. You could turn out to be younger than him, and he’d give you the same amount of respect and formality. “You just did that to me, a few minutes back.”
Jungkook shut his eyes with a wince. “Exactly. I did something similar this morning, and said stuff that I had no way of knowing facts about. And…” he trailed off again, this time squinting at your...well, boobs.
You immediately straightened. “Yah! What are you looking at?”
Jungkook looked up with rounded eyes. “That’s my hoodie.”
You looked down at yourself and physically cringed. You were the worst girlfriend in the world to not be able to tell the difference between your boyfriend's hoodies and his roommate’s. “Oh, God. Oh no, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”
Jungkook gave a small, awkward nod. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”
You shook your head at yourself. “It’s been a horrible day, Kook.”
“I’m gonna have to agree with that."
You both sat in silence for a while, and you recalled how you’d imagined you’d get peace and quiet because Jungkook didn’t talk much. You mentally snorted. The guy hadn’t exchanged as many words with you in eight months, as he did today.
Your eyes fell onto the TV in front of you. You squinted at the animated, white-ish balloon-ish things.
"Is that Soul?" you speculated.
Jungkook's cheeks and ears pinked. "Um, yes."
You lifted the remote and wordlessly unpaused the movie.
Settling on the carpet on the ground next to the coffee table, Jungkook munched on some nuts as you both watched.
The movie was good – really good and engaging, so much so that you didn't check your phone for over an hour. When it pinged with a message, you suddenly recalled that Taehyung hadn't responded to your text. Sitting up, you grabbed the device to check.
18:23 Munchkin😾 (1 new message)
You sighed in disappointment.
Scrolling past your best friend's inquisitive message, you got to your chat with Taehyung. You frowned. The message hadn't been delivered, yet.
"Want some?"
You looked up with a start to find Jungkook's hand holding the bowl of nuts to you, his head still facing the TV. You cleared your throat. "Um, no, I'm good."
He retracted his hand without a word. "You okay, noona?"
You bit your lip. "Taehyung hasn't received my text, yet."
This time Jungkook twisted his neck to look up at you. The odd angle made it difficult to discern what expressions he held, but knowing him, it was probably surprise—his resident facial expressions, next to only occasional grimaces.
"He said he was at Jin oppa's and would come here as soon as I texted him, but…"
Jungkook hummed, turning back. "He is there, yes. We went together, but I left early because Yoongi hyung had to go to his studio. And I don't like to hangout with anybody else in that house."
You snorted at that, sobering the next second. You exhaled. "I think I should call him."
Jungkook gave a simple nod. You stood up with your phone to your ear. But then you stopped, mid-step. Taehyung's phone was switched off.
This was very unlike Taehyung.
You pursed your lips in concern. He'd sounded fine—if not more than a little low—when you talked on the phone. He didn't sound angry, that is to say. Did something happen in the meanwhile? You wondered what it could be, because as far as you knew, you hadn't done anything wrong other than running off to Namjoon for help. But it had been nearly three hours since your talk, so you couldn't really be certain about Taehyung’s mood anymore.
You were at a loss. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just stay here and wait?
But what if Taehyung was really mad for some reason and didn't come at all, and you had to stay the night? You were certain he wouldn't appreciate you staying in his dorm with his male roommate alone, overnight. Taehyung was far from an insecure or controlling boyfriend, but put in his shoes, even you would be irked if he were staying over at your dorm with just Wendy around.
You groaned at your chain of thoughts. What were you even thinking? This was so stupid. He would be here any minute, and this would all come to an end. You really wanted to slap your drunk self for putting you into this mess. Or, you realised, you could slap Hoseok for throwing the stupid party with memory wiping liquor, in the first place.
You sat back down on the couch with a thump. You were being unreasonably paranoid.
You took a few deep breaths, looking from your phone to the TV screen, and then at the back of Jungkook's head. "Jungkook?"
He hummed in response.
"I need some advice."
Jungkook turned to look at you, eyes wide in evident alarm. "No. Please no. I'm horrifyingly bad at that."
You clicked your tongue. "Tae's phone is switched off. He never turns his phone off, Jungkook."
Jungkook looked taken aback as well. He probably knew the fact. "Maybe it got discharged?"
You sighed. "Jin oppa's house has plenty of chargers and charging points."
Jungkook looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with his hands as he trained his gaze at your feet. "Um. I… I am not sure what…" he trailed off, biting down on his lip, looking beyond lost. "I don't even know what happened."
You shut your eyes and massaged your forehead with both hands. "What happened is that I got extremely embarrassed about…well, yesterday. Something—something happened which made me too nervous to face Tae. Coming here after so many hours, I thought I was ready to apologise and talk it through, but the longer it's taking him to get there, the more uncertain I'm getting."
You took a breath after you'd poured it all out. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to understand your situation and give advice. But he prompted you to tell him – and it flowed out.
You shut your eyes tighter.
"If—if you think you're not ready," Jungkook suddenly began after a heavy silence of a few extended seconds, "you can step back and take a breather. Take some time to yourself, analyse and then build up the courage. In my experience, saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum."
His words gave you a pause. Namjoon and Munchkin's words came back to you. Taehyung was your boyfriend—you could talk to him, whenever. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Well maybe because you didn't want the situation to deteriorate further. Jungkook was right. You should rethink your decision of coming clean to Taehyung, lest you create more problems between the two of you by upsetting him.
"Does… does any of that help?" Jungkook hesitantly asked you.
You gave him a big smile "I think it does."
As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the door reached you. Jungkook's head whipped around to look at it.
You breathed in, preparing yourself.
“Why’s your phone turned off, hyung?” Jungkook accosted him at the door.
You saw your boyfriend over Jungkook’s shoulder. He was frowning, and was seemingly yet to notice you. “My phone?” He brushed a hand over his trousers’ pockets, dark, curly bangs brushing his eyelids as his head bent. You bit your lip. He was irresistibly handsome without even trying. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung enunciated, looking up at Jungkook very slowly. “I left it at Jin hyung’s. Did you say it was off?”
Taehyung stepped into the dorm, wide eyes immediately colliding with yours. “Um. Hey,” you squeaked, standing up.
“H—hi,” Taehyung stumbled on his words, eyes roving first on your face and then the rest of you. He momentarily frowned, probably recognizing Jungkook’s hoodie on you, and then met your eyes with a hesitant expression on his face. “How—how long were you waiting?”
You bit your lip. He seemed to be feeling guilty already. You reckoned it would be better to not add onto it. “Not long,” you simply responded.
Taehyung took baby steps towards you, while Jungkook glided around the place, shutting the door, turning the TV off, and then exited to his own room. You looked down at your feet, only looking back up when Taehyung’s own entered your vision. “Angel,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His deep brown eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate. “What happened?”
The simple question made tears prickle the back of your eyes.
It was always so simple with Taehyung. He was never pretentious, never impatient, never expected the world out of you—and yet you did not share things with him like he deserved. Why did you always have to be so self conscious?
Something must have shown on your face, because the next second had Taehyung frowning and stepping forth to cup your face in both his palms.
“Hey, hey, what is it?” he murmured very softly, swiping his thumbs at your cheeks to wipe off the wetness trickling down your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay, come on,” he soothingly whispered before collecting you in his arms.
You rested your forehead on his collarbones, pulling your lower lip in to grab a hold of your emotions as you wound both your arms around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tae,” you mumbled into his skin.
He inhaled and then exhaled, almost as if in relief. “I love you too, baby. I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head.
Pulling away, Taehyung held you by your upper arms and bent to peer into your eyes. His olive green Cuban collar shirt swayed with his movement, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned chest. Realising how highly inappropriate it was to be thinking lascivious thoughts with tears in your eyes—when your boyfriend was trying to comfort you—you swallowed and focussed back on his eyes.
“Now, tell me. What happened this morning?” Taehyung questioned you with a boundless softness in his gaze.
You cleared your throat. "Can we – can we move this to your room?"
Taehyung nodded, readily, wrapping his elegant fingers around your elbows to lead the two of you into his room.
As you settled on the edge of his bed, your eyes caught your top from last night's outfit placed neatly folded at the top of Taehyung's dresser. You pursed your lips.
“So.” Taehyung sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulders into yours.
You licked your lips, gathering courage. “I…this is gonna sound bad, babe, and, um, insulting even, but…” You turned to meet his eyes, desperately searching for any recognition. But you were met with cluelessness, and a subtle hint of apprehension. You sighed. “I — I had too much to drink last night, Tae.”
You felt him stiffen. His eyes gave away nothing. You waited for a couple heartbeats, expecting some indication that he was catching onto what you were trying to imply. Taehyung said nothing, though, and his face remained unmoving.
You looked down at your lap, wringing your fingers together. “I don’t know if I had too much, or if the combination made it so, but… I don’t—” You cleared your throat when your voice broke, chancing a glance at your boyfriend who was still as a statue. “I don’t remember a thing from last night. It’s all…a blur.”
Taehyung seemed to have stopped breathing, too, he’d gone so still. Very anxiously, you lifted your gaze to look at him.
You almost wished you hadn't, though. He looked shattered. Crushing disappointment was all over his face, hitting you like a lead arrow, and he wasn’t even looking at you.
You felt like running away, your cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. You tried to put yourself in Taehyung’s spot, employing your trusted tactic to discern how someone else must be feeling, but your head was too fuzzy with the unease you felt. You were mortified.
Taking a staggered breath in, you stood up on shaky legs. “I’m — I’m sorry, Tae,” you uttered, unsure if you were heard. “I really wish—”
“It’s fine, it’s okay. I understand,” Taehyung cut you off, suddenly, obviously trying to save face given the tight smile he had pulled up to flash at you beneath his saddened eyes. “It’s okay.”
You swallowed, shaking your head very slowly. “No,” you said. “It’s not okay, Tae. I — I wanted to make it memorable, too. Cherish the memories for life, however cliché might that sound. But I… I really blanked out, Tae.”
Taehyung’s brows got a slight crease in them by the time you were finished. But his eyes—those damned pools of love that you’d gotten so used to seeing boundless love in—looked strangely defeated. It almost felt like you’d done more than not remember a night of sex.
But then you reprimanded yourself by underlining how it wasn’t just any night of sex—it had been the first time you and the love of your life became one. Knowing how sentimental Taehyung was, it had to have hurt him tremendously. This time you were very easily able to put yourself in his place and realise that you’d be pretty pissed if he had no recollection of something precious to you. You took a step away, suddenly overwhelmed by immense guilt.
“Did nothing come back to you?” Taehyung asked, lips pouted and eyes rounded. “After so many hours, too?”
You shook your head, slowly. “I really tried, baby.”
Taehyung looked unconvinced, taking you by surprise.
He didn’t, by any means, think that you were lying about it, did he? You wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend’s overthinking brain.
“I think I — I need a break,” you blurted out, watching in horror how any remainder of color left Taehyung’s face. Jungkook’s words came back to you: saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum.
“A break?” Taehyung gawked at you.
You quickly shook your head. “A breather. Space. Some — some time to get over my embarrassment.”
Taehyung looked confused, but you couldn’t bear to wait and extend this conversation. Twisting in place, you rushed out of there, on your way to your own dorm, this time.
Taehyung sipped on Hoseok’s cheap beer, unseeing gaze stuck on the TV as some football match played on the screen. Next to him, Seokjin and Hoseok sat with their own bottles in hand. They were, decidedly, much more aware of the game than he was.
“Gah! That was a red card, come on!” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed at the referee.
Seokjin snorted. “This referee is blind.”
“Or sold,” Hoseok grumbled.
Taehyung blinked, unable to focus on the game however hard he stared. Shaking his head, he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.
His soul had almost left his body when you'd said you needed a break. You wanting to be away from him after last night would have been his biggest nightmare come true.
But then you asked for space. To get over your embarrassment.
Why were you embarrassed? He couldn't, for the life of him, decipher that one. Did you really regret last night that bad? Had you changed your mind? Or was it something else altogether?
But what the hell could it even be, then?
Hoseok cleared his throat, drawing Taehyung's attention to the redhead. "You could try out a new painting, Tae. It'd be a nice outlet, and, y'know? They say you create your finest art when you got a heavy heart."
"Pretty sure that's not what they say, Hobi," Seokjin deadpanned.
"Something along those lines, hyung, catch my drift." Hoseok scowled at Seokjin. “Art’s supposed to take your mind off stuff, right?”
Taehyung exhaled, proceeding to chug down the rest of the drink in his bottle. "I can't," he murmured. "Angel is…" He stopped, shut his eyes and exhaled. "She's been my biggest muse ever since I met her, hyung. I can't paint when we're fighting."
Seokjin noisily exhaled, puffing his nostrils up. "Then maybe you could—ah, I don't know, invest in a different sort of art?"
Taehyung frowned at the guy in confusion. Hoseok, though, seemed to have gotten onto something. His head of flaming red hair bobbed erratically. "Yes, yes! Great idea, hyung! You should come with me to the rehearsal hall for some time, Tae. It's been ages since you've been there. It'd be a good distraction, take your mind off all this disappointment and hurt."
Taehyung clicked his tongue. "I'm not disappointed. I'm—I'm just… just hurt."
Seokjin sighed. "You mean you aren't even the slightest bit irked that she used the excuse of missing memory to evade your…well. You know." He gesticulated with a hand around the other. "You are, aren't you?"
"Not really." Taehyung frowned and shook his head. "I mean, well. yes. Of course, I would've preferred if she didn't try to evade it and just talked to me. But maybe she really can't recall anything, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, what's the difference, either way? It all boils down to the fact that she has backed off. And that is what's…" He broke off, taking in a shaky inhale. "What's hurting," he finished on an exhale.
They all went silent for a while. Seokjn hummed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You love dance and you love Hobi’s routines, so… it could be therapeutic to you. But don’t force yourself, we’ll think of something else.”
Taehyung exhaled, swiping a hand down his face. He really did love Hobi’s routines and it really had been ages since he’d been to the rehearsal hall. “No. No, I want to. I’ll join you tomorrow, Hobi hyung.” He passed the man a half smile, and got a full back. He huffed out a breath. “You guys wanna crack open something stronger than this?” he asked the two older guys, gesturing to his empty beer bottle.
Seokjin raised his hands in surrender. "I've got work, tomorrow."
But Hobi, the resident booze-man, grinned like a cheshire cat.
Your day had been hell, and your night was going to be, too.
After ignoring your calls for an hour, your best friends had texted you back telling you they were too busy to take your calls. They would have known, of course, what you’d talk about and prioritized their personal businesses above it.
You weren’t bitter about it, or anything…
Okay, you were. You were really really bitter.
Because Munchkin was at a party, trying to rope in some guy she’d had her sights on for a while. Needless to say, she was gonna be busy for the night. And Namjoon was working on some project for extra credits for his class tomorrow.
Your relationship being at the verge of splintering was, apparently, less important than a coveted hookup and extra fucking credits.
Your mother had sent you her customary checking in texts asking about your well being, and you'd made a whole hypothetical situation to ask her if temporary amnesia could be cured with some brain exercise.
Did you drink too much at that party you were going to? Are you okay?
You huffed a breath out, irritated but at the same time feeling really loved at your mother's accurate deduction of the situation. You texted her you were okay, she asked about Taehyung's well being, you said he was okay, too, and at the end she suggested you see a doctor if this felt too uneasy.
You thought about it for a while, but then realised a doctor wouldn't take you seriously.
yeah right, mom!
if docs started treating everyone with temporary amnesia on campus, he'd be dealing with nearly the entire student population
The conversation with your mother certainly failed to help in any way. You had no solution at your hands and your mind wasn't taken off it, too.
You stress-ate a pint of choco-chip icecream for dinner and watched reruns of Victorious on your laptop. You cried when Beck and Jade broke up. And then you slept with your laptop still running the show in the background.
You had a fitful night’s sleep, riddled with horrible nightmares switching between you begging Taehyung to tell you what you’d forgotten but him just crying because he was so hurt that you forgot in the first place, and Taehyung never wanting to talk to you again because he thought you were lying about forgetting your special night.
You finally sat up in your bed at close to six am. Having had enough with the mess in your head, you decided to beg your best friends to help you out, one more time.
Seventeen minutes past six of the morning saw you on a conference call with Namjoon and Munchkin.
“I went to bed at four, bitch, have some mercy—”
“And I didn’t sleep at all, I’ve been working on the project the whole night, and—”
“Guys!” you wailed. “Please help me out here! I am at my wit’s end, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I don’t know who else to talk to! I swear if I did, I would not be bothering you two like this!” You exhaled when they’d both quieted down. “Not that you’ve been much help, so far,” you added under your breath.
“I did not sign up for being insulted first thing in the morning!” Munchkin protested. “And Joon, what the hell is up with all your late night working sessions, lately? Don’t you get enough time during the day?”
The comment had you momentarily distracted from your own issue as you furrowed your brows. “Good point. He’s been spending more odd hours than usual at the library, too,” you said, recalling how Jackson had told you about Namjoon’s frequent nightly visits to the library.
“What? I—I do work during the day, guys,” Namjoon jumped to his defense, “but… the work’s a lot, okay? Also, almost the entirety of my Sunday went into comforting Angel. Being an economics major just eats up your time, okay? And—and I really need a couple extra credits—”
“Stop, you’re rambling,” Munchkin interrupted, sounding bored.
“And obviously lying,” you added with a shrug, even though they couldn’t see it.
“What? What? I’m not—”
“Honestly, Joon, nobody has time for your theatrics, okay? If you’re sneaking around with a girl—although I’m willing to bet my nail extensions you’re not—it’s cool. Do whatever,” Munchkin sounded half asleep, but what she said rang true with you, too.
“Absolutely. We won’t pry, and won’t judge.”
“It’s not a girl, guys, come on—”
“Already bet on it.”
“You mean it is something, then?” You squinted.
“Wait, how did this conversation go from Angel’s crisis call to a semi-intervention on me?” Namjoon protested, bringing you back to the ground.
You groaned. “Oh, yes. No, sorry, we don’t have time for diversions, right now. Help me resolve my crisis first.”
Munchkin clicked her tongue. “I still really fail to see what the big deal is? So drinking gave you amnesia like a total weirdo. Yeah, okay, it kinda sucks, but it’s not the end of the world! You two love each other! Move past this! Make new freaking memories, and get over it!”
You bit down on your lip. “I… I would have done that, eventually, but… you guys don’t know what happened last night.”
“Yeah, we do. Sort of. You left thirty seven messages in the groupchat, so we get the gist,” Namjoon reminded you.
“Okay, so you do know. So. Guys, it’s become a big deal because Taehyung has made it into one. His behaviour last night…” and you launched into a retelling of your whole encounter with Taehyung at his dorm.
For the better part of an hour, your dear best friends listened to you go on about how Taehyung seemed heartbroken because of your missing memory, and how you felt he didn’t even fully believe you when you said you didn’t remember anything. You also brought up, time and again, how this one incident was gonna end your relationship.
“Okay, okay, hold on!” Namjoon finally interrupted your rampage. “This is all rubbish!”
You stuck your bottom lip out, turning to your side in your bed. Wendy had been out the entire night, last night. You wondered what she was up to because she wasn't the type to sleep around or go to parties. Maybe she had a sleepover with some of her girlfriends. You honestly couldn’t strain your mind over this on top of everything else, so you shut your eyes.
“Firstly, Taehyung isn’t gonna break up with you because he suspects you’re lying about the memory loss. That’s just stupid and unlike him, and I’ve known him longer than you,” Namjoon continued. “Also, I still think the key to this whole issue is communicating. You need to open your mouth and ask the guy what happened last night. Don’t be demotivated by his saddened face, push through.”
“But… you know, Jungkook said to me that sometimes saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum. And I literally said the absolutely worst combination of words I could to Tae, last night! Almost made him think I was trying to break up with him. How shitty—”
“I bet he’s not even thinking about it right now. I bet my hair extensions on it,” Munchkin interrupted with a snort. “He’s probably sleeping off another hangover. Boys always end up drowning the conflicts in their lives in alcohol.”
You rolled your eyes. “As opposed to what you do? And stop betting your extensions on things.”
“But, she’s kinda not wrong, Angel,” Namjoon intervened, “you’re definitely overreacting a bit. Jungkook has hardly ever known what he’s talking about, all through his life. You’re letting his words affect you? All you can do, right now, is have a decent conversation with Tae where you hold his hand, look into his eyes and ask him to tell you what exactly happened last night.” He paused. “The night before, now, I guess, ’cause it’s morning…”
You sighed, opening your eyes to blink at Wendy’s empty bed. “I don’t know, guys… He looks so freaking shattered and disappointed every time I try to talk to him, it just feels like a slap to the face.”
“Ugh, stop thinking so much about everything,” Munchkin groaned. “And if talking to him seems like such a humongous challenge, then talk to someone you know he would have confided in.”
You sat up at that, eyes open wide. “Jin! Jin oppa! Tae shares everything with him, and he even went straight to his place after I left his dorm, too! He would know everything.”
“Now, now,” Namjoon began with a nervous lilt, “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to ask around when you could ask—”
“Shut up, Namjoon, it’s a fantastic fucking idea,” Munchkin cut him off.
“Yes. Yes, it’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, checking the time. “It’s past eight, he would’ve left for the restaurant. I can make it after my Scriptwriting class and catch him during his lunch hour! Thank you, guys, thank you, so much!”
“Great to be of service. Now let me go back to sleep, I’m skipping all my classes today,” Munchkin muttered into the phone.
“For the record, I still don’t think it’s such a great idea—”
“Nobody cares, Namjoon, go back to sleep. You have a boring-as-fuck class in less than two hours.” With that, Munchkin disconnected your three-way call.
You tossed your phone to the side and laid back on your bed. This could actually work out. You could ask Jin to fill you in on what’s been going on in Taehyung’s head, and then go talk to your boyfriend with full preparation.
Noon couldn’t come sooner.
Jin’s face was pretty expressionless when he got into his usual lunch booth and met your eyes instead of his girlfriend’s. He didn’t look surprised, at all. He literally didn’t even blink, just gave you a once over and reached for his bag to fetch his lunch out. That should have been your warning sign, but blinded by your own selfish goal, you missed it.
“Oppa, hello,” you respectfully greeted him, wringing your hands in your lap. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced, but I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming if I told you beforehand. You know why.” You looked down at the table, at Jin’s lunch of some salad and a smoothie. “I—I think you do, at least.”
You waited for Jin to say something, but he simply kept chewing. His eyes looked at you so blankly, he almost seemed to be looking through you. This was nothing like the Jin you knew. Either he was in a really disturbed state of mind, or he was really mad at you for what happened between you and Taehyung.
You suspected it was the latter.
“Um,” you couldn’t find the right words to say. “I—I tried talking to Tae about this, but he gets really upset and unbelieving and I… I lose courage.” You swallowed. You were losing courage now, too. “So—so, oppa, did he… Taehyung, he… what did he say about last night?” You bit your tongue. “I mean the night before. Hobi—Hobi oppa’s party’s night.” You focussed your gaze at your sweaty hands resting in your lap. “I drank God knows what combination of alcohol, and…and can’t seem to recall the events that followed us leaving the party. Taehyung is really worked up about it all, so…” You looked up to meet Jin’s flat stare. “Will you tell me what happened that night? What—what Taehyung’s been so worried about?”
Jin sipped at his smoothie, smacked his lips, and had just opened his mouth to say something, when a familiar voice rained down on the two of you from the side. “Well, this is fabulous!”
You jumped, snapping your head to the side to see Jin’s girlfriend standing close to your booth in her waitress outfit, lunchbox in hand and rage on her face.
“So, now you have engagements during lunch, too. Great. Just great.”
“Unnie, I…” You trailed off as the woman silenced you with a sharp glare. Tossing another one at her boyfriend, she twisted on her heels and left the break room. “I… what did I do wrong? She—she did recognize me, right?” you nervously asked the stoic wall sitting before you.
“Taehyung is upset because you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of this fictitious memory loss—that doesn’t happen in real life, mind you—to get out of the promise you made to him while drunk,” Jin told you in a slightly high pitched, obviously enraged, and nearly unrecognisable voce.
You gaped at him. “I really do not remember, oppa! Why would I want to forget about my first…” You slowly came to a halt as it hit you. “Wait, what did you say? The promise I made to him? What promise?” you rasped, bewildered.
Jin scowled at you. "What first time were you going to speak of? I don’t know about the intimate details of your relationship, and I don't want to, because that isn’t material here.” You ducked your head as your cheeks pinked. “You two drunkards were getting all emotional about loving each other a lot and wanting to stay together forever, so Tae proposed the idea of sealing it with a ring.”
You gasped. “I—a promise ring?”
“Mm hmm,” Jin hummed with pursed lips. “And then, when you got sober and realised you shouldn't have made that commitment in a haste, you ran out on him, instead of telling him straight up. And since then you’ve been confusing him with mixed clues instead of properly talking to him about what you want.” Jin’s jaw was set. “Why can’t you just have a proper talk, huh? Why do you women have to be so mysterious and expectant about things? Use your freaking words, for one damn time in your life! Men can’t get into your head to guess shit! Say it, and maybe we’ll be able to resolve it! Use words to describe what you actually want, and maybe I'd be able to get it done!”
Jin was breathing hard, his eyes were blown wide and a few veins in his forehead looked close to popping. You swallowed, feeling nervous, confused, dumbstruck and a tad bit scared for your life, at the same time. “Uh… you?”
Jin blinked, and the hazy, mad look lifted from his gaze. His lips parted and he sighed very noisily. “No, not I. It’s just… I started to project my personal issues onto you. Sorry about that, kid.” He forwarded a hand to pat your shoulder in apology. “You got what you came here for, though, right?”
“I… yeah, I guess. Although…” I cannot believe that that is what I forgot. No wonder Taehyung looked so downtrodden.
Gosh, you were a fool!
“Thank you so much, oppa!” you announced to Jin, getting up with a new spring to your steps. “I’ll get going, now.”
You bounded out of the restaurant. You literally could not believe what you’d just learned. Smacking a palm against your face, you shook your head at yourself.
You concentrated, again, this time to recall conversations from last night instead of actions. And surprisingly enough, some of the fog cleared away as you started recalling things…
…you are beyond toasted in this shimmery polyester top and leather shorts you’d worn as your costume. The minute you step into Taehyung’s room, you are scrambling to get out of them.
Your boyfriend chuckles as he locks the door after himself. “You’re more than welcome to take it off, and more, babe.”
Your mind has gotten kind of hazier than you’re used to. But knowing how Tae always makes fun of you for being a lightweight — which you’re really really not, Tae just holds his liquor better than you do — you avoid bringing up your state of mind. You laugh at his teasing remark.
Within seconds, you have thrown off your top and shorts, and are snuggled between Taehyung’s covers. He himself has stripped down to his boxers. You give a lazy smile as your eyes rove his torso. “What happened to wearing pajamas when we cuddled?” you tease, sleepily.
Taehyung gets in bed next to you, rolling over to pull you to his chest. He smirks down at you, complete with his vampire makeup. “Too balmy tonight. And too tired to find pajamas.”
You giggle, burrowing yourself into the warm, soft skin of his chest. You poke a finger into his pectoral muscle.
“Ow!” he yelps.
“You’re muscly, babe. Those oversized clothes hide you well,” you observe, licking your lips as your hands smooth over his chest and stomach.
“And you’re sexy,” he responds in a rasp, eyes stuck on the cleavage exposed by your bra. “Do you usually sleep with this on?” he asks, snapping the strap against your shoulder.
You wince, shaking your head. “It’s too hot to wear a shirt, so…”
Taehyung pulls you in closer, staring deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”
Despite all the ridiculous makeup, your heart skips a beat at his intense stare. You nod.
His hands slide behind you to unhook your bra. You gasp when the clasp is released. “Relax, baby. It’s just me,” Taehyung whispers to you in a soothing voice. “I won’t even look if you ask me to. You know that, right?”
You do. But you also do. Want him to look, and more. As the garment is pulled away from your body, slowly, Taehyung’s eyes remain stuck to yours. Your own water at the love, admiration and respect you feel for him in the moment. Actually, not just in the moment. Always.
A sob escapes your lips. You rush to wrap yourself in his arms, again. “Baby?” he sounds worried. “What—what happened, sweetheart?”
“I just love you a lot, Tae,” you speak into his skin in a nasally, snot-filled voice. “A lot. You’re my most precious gemstone in the whole world. Never leave me, baby. Never ever.”
Taehyung presses a multitude of kisses to the crown of your head, and you feel wetness seep into your shoulder when he nuzzles your nape. “I love you too, my babylove. And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”
“Promise?” you mumble. “This is forever?”
You feel him nod against you. “Forever, baby. I promise.” He pulls away from you, eyes still on your face as he wipes away your tears and the obviously ruined makeup if his own is anything to go by. “Do you want to seal it? With a promise ring?”
You gasp. This is the stuff from teenage romance novels that you’ve always dreamed of. “I… Yes! Yes, Tae, oh my God, yes, yes, please yes!” you happily chant, grabbing both his hands and wringing them around as you roll in the bed.
Taehyung chuckles, calming you down by pulling you in for a kiss. The familiar heavenly feel of his pillowy lips has you quieting down and kissing him back. His palm slowly travels up the curve of your waist to curl around the side of your breast. Your breath hitches.
Taehyung brushes his tongue against your lower lip, and pulls back. “Is this okay?” he asks, giving a slight squeeze.
You almost squeak at the sensation, rapidly nodding your head like a dummy. Smiling, he captures your lips again and massages his palm over the peak of your breast, squeezing when you moan into his mouth. You lose yourself in his taste and touch.
His lips travel lower to your jaw, peppering kisses on their way. You release a sigh of bliss, hands carding through his hair. His teeth scrape over your collarbone, quickly latching onto the skin of your neck. You cannot hold back the whine that leaves you, sensations travelling down to the bottom of your stomach.
“Mine,” he breathes into your skin, sponging kisses over the bite he has just left. “Only mine.”
“Only yours, baby,” you breathe out, rolling on your back as he presses his face against your sternum.
“You’ve made me the happiest man, bub,” he breathes onto your chest, a finger drawing patterns around your navel as he cuddles into you. “I’ll get you that ring and prove myself to be the best boyfriend, in the world. I’ll love you more than you ever thought was possible.”
Tears trickle down your eyes at his words. “And I’m gonna be the best girlfriend in the world to you, baby. You’re my dream come true. My real life prince charming.”
He doesn't say anything for a while, just hugs you tighter. His lips feathers soft kisses to the tops of your breasts, and a hand plays with imaginary patterns on your stomach. And then you feel his head getting heavier. You want to ask him if he’s sleepy, but you cannot even open your eyes with how heavy they’ve gotten. You breathe out as he holds you closer, and slowly drift into sleep...
Your eyes watered as the scenes played out in your head, everything you’d been unable to recall gradually coming back. You realised you’d been going about it the wrong way, trying to recall your passionate moments, when it had all been an extremely emotional affair.
You bit your lip as you called Taheyung’s cellphone. You were gonna beg for his forgiveness and then kiss him silly. You loved this boy so much, oh God.
The phone was picked up after three rings. “Hi, kiddo!”
You blinked at the unexpected voice and greeting, but then recognised it to be Hobi’s. Oh how you wished you could yell at the guy for making your life miserable by mixing drinks at his damn party. You exhaled, though, and tried to clear your head. “Hobi oppa, hey. Where’s Tae?”
“At the Kappa rehearsal hall with me!” Hobi cheerfully told you. “We’re doing a k-pop routine today. You know how he gets with those, right? He’s been practising this one move that he can’t get right for so long, ugh. Do you need a message conveyed?”
You frowned to yourself. It had been a while since Taehyung visited the rehearsal halls. Was he trying to distract himself from the disaster you’d brewed up for him? Very likely. “No, no, I’m gonna…” You stopped yourself. Maybe an element of surprise would work better. “I’ll call later, when he’s done,” you said, instead, already mapping a way down to the university campus and the rehearsal hall as you hailed a cab.
You received Hobi’s text on your way, stating that they were all leaving for the ice cream parlor opposite the building and that you may contact Taehyung now if you wanted to. You were kind of grateful they’d all left the rehearsal hall. You weren’t sure how you’d call Taehyung aside in an echoing hall with mirrors and Hobi’s dance team. And what would you do if he refused you? You weren’t prepared for that kind of humiliation. An ice cream shop, you could do.
On reaching your destination, you exited the cab, determined. You looked up at the striking capital K embossed in gold atop the Kappa rehearsal hall. Then you turned to look across the street and spotted a quaint, cosy looking ice cream parlour painted in beautiful pastels. You crossed the road with hurried steps.
You took a deep breath in. You were gonna apologise your butt off, and then kiss him in the middle of this very place if you had to. God, you felt so guilty! You were gonna make this right.
As you pushed the door open, the entry bell tolled, alerting the girl behind the cash counter of your presence. As she flashed you a bright smile, you realised she looked familiar. She had a really kind face. Maybe you’d seen her around the campus, maybe she was one of Wendy’s friends.
You stepped in and returned her greeting with a small smile of your own. Then you looked around to spot Taehyung and Hobi’s group. Hobi caught your eye first, standing out with his fiery red hair.
You walked over. “Hey… everyone,” you greeted the table, awaiting Hobi’s reaction and hoping he’d be kinder than Jin. Although half of Jin’s ire seemed to have come from his personal troubles which you really had known nothing about beforehand. You smiled when Hobi’s surprised eyes met yours. “Hi.”
“Oh! Hey, kid!” Hobi greeted you with a huge grin, easing your worries. “You, uh, you came here, whoa!”
You gave a bashful shrug, awkward because you didn’t recognise anyone other than Hobi on the table.
And then you did a double take at the table. You didn’t recognise anyone, indeed! Where was Taehyung?
Hobi noticed your searching eyes. “Oh, Tae went back to the hall, he’d left his phone. He’ll be back in five.”
You exhaled. That wouldn’t do. “I’ll catch him back there, no problem.”
Hobi shrugged his shoulders, without question. “He’d be in hall G.”
Nodding him a quick thanks, you took off, leaving the ice cream shop, and crossed the road back to the rehearsal hall. As you stepped foot onto the linoleum floor of your university's most coveted rehearsal hall, you realized you’d never been here before. Past the revolving gates, you encountered a small reception area where you had to show your college ID to get yourself checked in.
When the man passed your ID back to you over the counter, you made your way down the corridor which was lined by various gates that were numbered alphabetically. These were probably the individual halls. The corridor, you noticed, ran quite long. God, how huge was this place?
On reaching the door marked with a G, you stopped. The door wasn’t fully shut like all the others you’d walked past, right now.
You gave it a slight push, peeking in. Taehyung’s shapely butt greeted you as the guy leant over on the floor, rummaging around for something. Probably his phone. You gaped at the sight for a few extended seconds, before realising how you were being a creep.
You cleared your throat and gave the door a firmer push, opening it wide enough for you to step through. Taehyung’s wide eyes met yours in the mirrored wall he was sat before. You sucked in a sharp breath as his attractiveness smacked you in the face, yet again. Dressed in plain black joggers and a loose fitted t-shirt, he should have had nothing on your white colored high waisted shorts and pale blue button up, and yet he looked like a freaking Greek God, while you...well. You really just looked like a potato trying to play dress-up in front of this guy, swear to God.
He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his eyes following your movements through the mirror as you stepped in. His gaze seemed apprehensive and he really didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak, anytime soon. “Hi,” you whispered through a scratchy throat.
Taehyung’s eyes travelled down your body, making you blush from the inside out as they lingered on your legs. “Hey,” he finally said, audibly exhaling as he sat down, this time, to rummage through some towels and water bottles lying on the floor next to the wall length mirror. “You done with your breather, overnight, then? Can you give me a ring? I can’t find my phone.”
You bit your lip at his caustic tone and taunt. And also at the lack of an address. No babe, no angel? You’d really hurt him. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you quickly said, holding back the flood that was filling up your heart as you fished your phone out from your pocket.
The buzz of a cellphone’s vibration filled up around you. Taehyung bounced back to his feet, attentively kicking off a soaked towel, and there, on the floor, you saw his phone. You disconnected the call as he picked the device up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, breaking your heart with the formality and the repetitive lack of address.
He walked up to you on careful steps, eyes scanning your face as if accessing something. You breathed in. “Tae, can we talk?”
His eyebrows did a thing where one of them rose and the other lowered, very slightly. You nearly creamed your panties. “Depends,” he gruffly said, looking away to inspect his phone. “Are you gonna run off in the middle of it, again?”
You winced, ducking your head in shame. “No. No, absolutely not. Never again, I promise,” you mumbled. You looked up and caught a brief glimpse of his shattered expressions before he pulled on his mask of indifference mingled with slight bother. You felt like shit. “I’m so so so sorry, baby,” you said without any ado. “I acted like a complete idiot and—and really hurt you.”
Taehyug’s whole body seemed to deflate. With his lips pursed and eyes shut, he shook his head. “That you did, babe. That you did.”
You clamped your lower lip between your teeth. “Forgive me? Please?” you breathed out in a really desperate voice, ready to beg on your knees if you had to.
Taehyung opened his eyes with a tired sounding, noisy exhale. “It’s… well, of course, I’ll forgive you, Angel. You’re the love of my life,” he said with a small smile while his eyes still emanated immense sadness. He looked so heartbroken and lost that you just wanted to give him a tight hug. “But, baby. Why? Why did you go through all this trouble of faking memory loss? You ran out on me twice within twelve hours, you know. It hurt like a bitch that you couldn’t just talk to me about wanting to back out. I would’ve understood, baby. You were drunk and emotional, and I—”
You gasped when it hit you. Faking memory loss? Wanting to back out? Oh no. “Tae!” you interrupted him, stepping forth to put both your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to splay them and push them into his toned flesh. “You’ve still got it wrong. I didn’t fake any memory loss, baby. I genuinely did not remember. I promise. I didn’t lie.”
Taehyung frowned, looking confused. “What? But…why did you leave like that in the morning, then?” he asked in a soft voice, looking vulnerable as his hands came up to loop around your wrists.
Your skin as well as your heart warmed at his familiar touch, and this time you did splay your fingers out a bit on his pectorals. “I…” You felt your cheeks and ears heating up when you realized you’d have to actually tell him what you’d assumed you’d forgotten. “Um, Tae, we—uh, we were nearly naked when we woke up, you remember?”
Despite the situation, a corner of his lips ticked up and his hands left your wrists to wrap around your waist. “Uh huh, vividly. What of it?”
You felt the heat climb down your ears, to your neck. You looked down at his beautiful collarbones to avoid the intensity his eyes suddenly shone with. “Well, it — it made me think that maybe, you know… stuff might have happened between us. Um, you know…?”
When you felt his hold slacken, you looked up to find Taehyung gaping at you with his jaw dropped really far down and eyes as round as golf balls. “You thought we had sex?” he squeaked, face contorting in horror. “No…you thought you forgot that we had sex,” he corrected himself, horror growing on his face as you pursed your lips in silent acquiescence.
“I felt horribly embarrassed,” you quietly confessed, making his grip on you tighten again. “Our first sexual encounter was — well, is going to be something I remember and cherish for the rest of my life. I hated myself for blanking out on it.”
“But you could’ve asked me!” he desperately said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.
“Yeah, about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I kinda did, but somebody just gave me suggestive glances and confuddling freaking words that concreted my doubt of us having had sex!”
Taehyung grimaced. “Yeah, I was tryna tease, but it came back to bite me in the butt.”
You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle, sliding your palms past his shoulders to grip his neck.
“As it stands, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at you with parted lips and big, innocent eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that.”
You looked in his now regretful eyes with love bubbling in your chest. “How could you ever think I would wanna back out, baby?” you whispered, leaning in close enough to taste his favorite strawberry milkshake on his breath. “You really are my most precious gemstone in the whole world, Tae,” you relayed your words from that night, making his eyes widen. “My dream come true. My real life prince charm—”
With a growl Taehyung captured your lips in his. You melted in his embrace, nails digging into the back of his neck as you drank your fill of him. Your lips moved in sync, the most natural rhythm in the world to you. You had missed this, missed him so much, in just a day. You really couldn’t live without this boy. He was your whole world.
His tongue swiped past the seams of your lips to delve deeper, and you allowed him entry with a deep moan, going lax in his arms as he plundered your mouth. You felt him move you around, and then a cold surface was pressing into your back. Taehyung sidled up to you, his planes molding smoothly into your curves. You sighed into his mouth, tasting him to the fullest as you ran your own tongue over the ridge of his upper teeth. His chest vibrated with a groan, making you shiver.
You closed your teeth around his lower lip and sucked, making him gasp and push against you harder. His own teeth scraped against your upper lip. Goosebumps spread all over your body.
His arms left your waist to pull at your own, slowly travelling down your shoulders, to encircle your wrists and pin them next to your head. He pulled away with a heaving chest, and you gasped in a large breath. Your eyes fluttered open.
He looked good enough to eat with his eyes shuttered, dark hair brushing his miles long lashes, and lips cherry red with your kisses. “I love you so so much, my babylove,” he whispered, strawberry scented breath washing over your face.
You inhaled his essence. Your eyes watered at the love reflected in his own. “I love you, too, Tae. I love you forever.”
Pinned between him and, you could now tell, the mirror, your heartbeat quickened when he licked his lips. Without another word, he leant down to sponge open mouthed kisses down your neck.
“Tae,” you breathed out, “we’re in...publi—ah!” you broke on a gasp when he licked a strip up to your jaw.
Your eyelashes fluttered as he came back up to look into your eyes with his own darkened in lust. “You didn’t cover the marks, did you?”
Your breathing almost stopped at his deep octave. Nearly trembling in his grasp, you shook your head. “I w—w—wore a shirt to… hide ’em,” you managed to breath out, going insane under his heated stare.
He let go of your arms to unbutton the collar of your shirt. You looped your fingers through the waistband of his joggers, chewing on your lower lip when he undid another button. And another. And then another. “You look really fucking sexy today, by the way,” he grumbled into your neck, leaning in to lave his tongue over the deep purple marks he’d left there. “Love the shorts.”
You bit back a whimper when his teeth scraped against the flesh just beneath your collarbone.
“I happen to remember another mark,” he spoke into your skin, nose dragging down your sternum and sinking into your cleavage. One of his fingers came up to drag against the top seam of your bra. In a swift motion, he scooped the cup down to free your right boob. One of his fingers came up to encircle your nipple, making it peak immediately. Humming in satisfaction, he moved the shapely digit up to rub against the mark you remembered he’d left there. “Would you look at that.” His voice was now a growl, hot breath warming the skin of your breast as he spoke. “My baby looks so pretty.”
That was your last warning before Taehyung was engulfing your peak into his mouth. You stopped breathing. Frozen in place, your thighs tingling at the sensation and your core clenching in anticipation, a breathless heave left you when his tongue flicked against the pebbled nipple. You desperately clutched onto him for dear life, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt at the waist and the other coming up to grip a tuft of his hair. “Tae...hyung,” you whined, eyes screwed shut as he sucked hard.
He let go of your boob with a pop, only to tease his mark with kitten licks. You were gonna die.
One of his hands glided over one of your thighs, hooking under your knee to lift your leg up and slot himself further into you. Your eyes flew open when you felt the stiffness between his legs. He felt hard. And he felt huge. Gulping, you tugged at his hair to pull him away. He separated from you with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly as if to focus on your face as he breathed through his wet, rosy, parted lips.
Sexy fucking beast.
As you looked into his crazed eyes, he pressed harder against you, pushing his length against the crotch of your shorts. You whimpered, your fists tightening on him when the zipper of your shorts bumped into your clit. Taehyung’s eyes lit up with interest. He repeated the motion. You threw your head back, giving up when he picked up pace, rubbing against you with his own breathing laboured.
Sweat beaded your forehead, and his hand came up to support the back of your neck, palm of the other still holding up your leg to provide him with the required leverage. You let out a guttural moan when he leant in to lick at your nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Tae…” you sighed, attempting to collect some semblance of your sanity, but failing.
Taehyung sped up, almost rutting against you, and you rolled your hips against his to match the pace. His mouth latched onto your neck, shooting off sparks down to your core and fueling the fire bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to combust. “My baby,” he grumbled into your ear, scraping his teeth against the flesh behind it. Your entire body shuddered. “Only mine,” he growled again.
You nodded blindly, gasping when he bit down on your flesh. His hand suddenly left your neck to brush down your front, tweaking your nipple, and settled onto the waistband of your shorts. His eyes met yours through the haze of lust you two were choking on, and you gave him a nod of consent. He deftly unbuttoned the garment, hips not ceasing for a moment as his fingers glided down your abdomen.
The first contact his fingers made with your clit was explosive. Your back arched off the wall, mouth falling open on a silent scream. He nudged against your bundle of nerves twice, before moving down your wetness to sink two of his gorgeously slender fingers into you. You had been flooding your panties since the moment your eyes met. Both his fingers slid right in. His hips stuttered to a halt, lips falling open on a gasp. Your hand left his head to clutch at his shoulder, pulling him in further when he let go of your knee.
“You are soaking, baby,” he breathed, awe and surprise spilling off his throaty timbre. His fingers curved in you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that had taken you months to locate properly. He did it in under five seconds, and now he was playing you like a violin. You were gonna die!!! Your eyes fell shut again. His fingers were merciless, massaging your insides and pushing against your warmth. “Yes, you like that? Do you like that baby, hm?”
You managed a broken nod, gasps layering on one on top of the other. “T—Tae…Tae…”
“Come on, my love. Let go,” he whispered, swiping his tongue over your trembling lips before latching onto them.
A stroke of thumb against your clit, and you fell apart with a vibrating groan into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach suddenly expanded into a tsunami of sensations that travelled down to every single nerve ending in your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as waves over waves of blinding, white pleasure crashed into you. Your legs jittered beneath you, spasming beyond your control.
It took you longer than a few seconds to come back to the land of living. You were not used to this.
You opened your eyes excruciatingly slow, as if waking up from unconsciousness. But when you did, Taehyung had already extracted his hand back from you, righted your bra, buttoned up both of your garments, and was now licking your wetness off his fingers with his eyes shut. The sight made you thump back against the wall, jolting his hand that was holding onto your waist and making him open his eyes in surprise.
You looked at him from under your lashes, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “What…” you panted, “the hell…”
Taehyung had a starved look in his eyes when he met yours that, despite just having had the best orgasm of your entire life, made you wanna throw him on his back and ride him to the high heavens. “I take it you liked that,” he murmured, cradling your waist in his arms.
“Liked it? Are you insane?” you scoffed. “Taehyung, I…” you heaved a breath out, picking up your leaden arms to rest against his shoulders. “I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable and at the same time protected.
Taehyung, contrary to your expectations, gave you a sincere smile instead of the smirk you’d envisioned. “Makes me the happiest man. I love you so much, you know?”
You giggled, pulling your lips in. “I love you, too, you insanely insanely sexy man,” you teased, making him scrunch up his nose in embarrassment. Something poked your thigh when you shuffled closer to him, and you gasped. “Babe, what about you… your… um.” Your wide eyes pointed down at his nearly fully erect member.
Taehyung gave a laugh. “Well, we can always go back to the dorms and take care of it together,” he suggested, making your cheeks flame up and your battered pussy reignite in excitement. “I was dry humping you like a thirteen-year-old. Couldn’t let our first sexual encounter be about that.”
“You were lucid enough to think about all that?” you asked him, genuinely curious.
“No, that was a lie.” Taehyung gave you a bashful shake of head. “I was a goner, babe. I just…” His tongue came out to lick at his lower lip. “I just had this sudden urge to feel you. Couldn’t control it.”
You shakily exhaled. “Your fingers are amazing. No, you are amazing,” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. You suddenly pulled back with your eyes wide. You looked around the hall, frenetically. “Wait, this place doesn’t have cameras, does it?”
Taehyung laughed with his lips pursed. “Of course not, darling. Who do you think I am?”
“A really sexy guy who missed his girlfriend?” you teased again, and this time, he kissed you in retaliation.
Pulling away, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Wait,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for something.
You had a guess what it could be.
Pulling out a plastic case that obviously housed a ring, Taehyung sucked in his lower lip as he looked at you. Pinning you against the mirror, he popped the box open between your faces. Your eyes left his to look at the ring — a simple, silver band with a dainty knot embossed on it. Your eyes watered.
“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled through a clogged throat.
“My angel, my other half, the love of my life,” Taehyung whispered, paying no heed to the tear that travelled down his cheek, “do you promise to be mine forever?”
You sobbed. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you nodded, frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I promise to be yours forever.”
He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Sobs wracked the two of you as you hopped into his arms, tucking your legs around his waist when he lifted you off the floor. “I love you so much, oh baby,” he sobbed into your neck.
“I love you, too, my love, I love you, too.”
Fifteen minutes later, after crying for a while, admiring how cute the ring looked on your hand, ensuring that Taehyung wasn’t even the slightest bit hard, and nearly leaving his phone behind again, the two of you exited rehearsal hall with your entwined hands swinging between you.
“So,” Taehyung suddenly commented, a sly smirk on his face. “Bet you can’t get amnesia about coming for me in Hobi hyung’s rehearsal hall, huh? Even if you tried? Mission accomplished!”
You gasped, raining down smacks on him right there, on the side of the road. He was gonna tease you about your wrong interpretation of that night, forever, it seemed.
“Hey, I was kidding!” Taehyung exclaimed, sheltering himself with his arms. “Let’s go ask hyung what he mixed with the vodka that gave you amnesia in the first place!”
You stopped with your attack. That seemed like a great idea. You were dying to ask the man that, yourself. “Let’s.”
As you two walked back to the ice cream shop, your ring glinted, reflecting sunlight. You looked at Taehyung who was grinning to himself.
You were the happiest, today, that you had ever been in your life.
note: angst by the virtue of miscommunication is my fav sort of angst to write. in the original draft, this story was to end when OC got back to Tae's dorm to sort things out, but then my mind said naAAHHH. mORE ANGST!!! lmao, anyways. thank you for reading! jin's story should be up next, if all goes according to plan. wait around~ 😘💕
© bangtae-sohotddaeng | 2021
#vantaenet#bangtanarmynet#thebtstown#taehyung smut#taehyung fluff#taehyung angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#bts v#bts kim taehyung#kim taehyung#bts imagines#taehyung imagine#*mine#tossw#youth series#IM SO FUCKING EXCITED ABT THIS SERIES YAAAAASSSSS LEGGOOOOO
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I don't think I love you anymore
Rated: PG
Notes: um hello! its my birthday and because so i'm posting two diff things today bc i love everyone who reads what i write and im so grateful :). i know nate is bad i just don't care so don't come for me. its a lot shorter than other stuff i've written but i was so excited
Warnings: like cursing and angst. that's it
She watched as Nate laughed with his ex, Maddy. Something she said made him laugh so hard that he was doubled over. He didn’t do that with her, not anymore. It hurt her to see them like this. She knew that Nate wanted nothing more than to be back with Maddy, but for some reason they hadn’t broken up yet. Every time she hyped herself up to do it, he’d say something about how much he loved her. How he couldn’t survive without her, how she means everything to him.
And maybe it was true. But, she didn’t feel the love he gave in the beginning of their relationship.
Maddy’s friends made sure that she knew that he’d never love anyone like he loved her. Their connection was something unique and it couldn’t be replicated. In his own unconscious way, he did it too. She’d find him saying something she didn’t understand as if she was the girl herself. It made her sick that she couldn’t just break up with him and be done with his shit, but then the look in his eyes was something that resembled love and she’d cave.
After school, she rode with him to his house. They didn’t even talk during car rides anymore. Just uncomfortable silence, uncomfortable deafening silence. He didn’t hold her thigh as he drove anymore, she loved when he would do that. It’s pathetic how she longed for a boy that seemingly disappeared and all she was left with was this shell of someone she missed.
His parents didn’t bother to greet them, she was there every day. And, they felt bad for her. The toll of unrequited love was showing on her features, puffy eyes and runny eyeliner was her signature look. They just turned a blind eye, maybe she’ll figure it out for herself.
When they made it inside his bedroom, she decided to bring up the latest cause of her shitty mood. “I saw you with Maddy.” He turned to look at her, his towering made her feel small. “So?” He acted as though he didn’t catch her drift, making her seem like she was being unnecessary.
“So, do you normally ignore your girlfriend for your exes?” He scoffed. He wasn’t ready for her shit today. “Don’t start this, I’m begging you.” He turned away from her, running his hand through her hair. “Nate, I’m just telling you how it makes me feel. You act as if I don’t exist and Maddy is the only person you’d rather pay attention to.” The anger was bubbling up inside of her. ‘But, what if she is?’ He thought.
“You’re overreacting,” he mumbled. Overreacting? Was she, though? She went to stand in front of him so he’d look at her. She nearly caved and almost dropped the topic, but she couldn’t. Not this time. “Nate, I’m not overreacting. You’re not going to gaslight me this time.” His nostrils flared as he realized he wasn’t getting out of this. Would this finally be the day they call it quits?
“Nate, I’ve tried to get you to see me. Obviously, it isn’t fucking working. I’m not her, I’ll never be her. No one will ever compare. You keep chasing after a love you once had and it’s hurting everyone involved. It’s not fair.” He finally lifted his head to look into her sorrow-filled eyes.
“I know.” He was being honest for once. “I don’t think I love you anymore.” She couldn’t say it out loud, but he heard it clearly. He deserved it, because he stopped loving her a long time ago. But, he’d rather have someone than have no one. “I know.”
And, so the couple that was something is now nothing. It was for the best.
#nate jacobs#euphoria hbo#euphoria imagine#euphoria#nate jacobs imagine#nate jacobs x reader#maddy perez#gif creds: multireese
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Can I please have 12. “You getting so flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.” with Barto
Barto x GN Reader
SFW
Modern AU
Word Count: 355
Barto had this effect on people, meaning he could part the crowd like Moses did the sea. The public would take one look at the man’s wild green hair, tattoos, piercings and grimace, trying their best to stay out of his eyeline. He would smirk and sneer at the way men twice his age would look down at their feet and scurry away.
He loved how his swagger was more intimidating then any weapon. He commanded respect in his group of friends with his tough attitude, not to say he wasn’t good to them he was just a very formidable person. At least that’s what it looked like to most people.
“Barto!” You called seeing him across the road, waving your hand in the air to get his attention. He squinted in your direction before his face lit up, cheeks tinged pink when you rushed over to greet him.
A woman watched in horror as you flung your arms around the terrifying punk’s neck and pulled him close. He towered over you with his natural height, even more in his large boots. You didn’t care, your face pressed against his chest hearing his heartbeat dramatically speed up.
He spluttered and tripped over his words when you clung to him, his arms shaky and nervous he tried his best to fight the urge to hold you, his hands balling into fists stuffed deep into his pants pockets. But you looked at him, the bright smile that could just blind him.
Despite his best efforts he couldn’t resist putting his arms around you, pulling you up to your tip toes. “Your looking cute today!” You complimented him, cute was decidedly not the look he’d tried to go for when he attached around 20 pounds of chains to his belt this morning.
But God damn did he turn red at the flattery. You had a sly look as you placed your hands on his shoulders, peering up at him, batting your eyelashes at the intimidating male. “You getting so flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Fuuucck!” He whimpered against your hair, blushing like mad.
#sfw#gender neutral reader#bartolomeo x reader#bartolomeo the cannibal x reader#bartolomeo the cannibal#barto x you#barto x reader#one piece x reader#one piece reader insert
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Halloween Night
➪ a/n: happy halloween everyone!! I hope everyone having a great halloween day whether you’re staying home or going out. if you’re going out ofc be safe and have fun!! here’s a fun little one shot I wanted to write to celebrate today :D
➪ includes: eustass kid (w/ gn!reader)
➪ warnings: none!
“One, two, Freddy’s coming for you!.” The chilling childrens melody fills the room from the movie, hinting at the impending arrival of none other than Freddy Kruger. You’d be a lot more tense during this moment if you hadn’t been too busy struggling with your makeup.
Throwing your hands up into the air in exhaustion, you huff and toss the eyeliner pencil off to the side. You were getting tired of almost stabbing yourself in the eye every time you tried and you were getting nowhere. Of course you hadn’t seen if you could do the look ahead of time!
Now it was halloween night and you were at a loss of options. You weren’t just going to abandon your previous look, the makeup wasn’t make or break but it didn’t feel complete without it. You were certainly upset to say the least, it was annoying it wasn’t going according to plan.
Curling up among the blankets on your bed, you lie there and pout. You had an hour to get ready and find out a solution, but at the moment lying down and just watching the movie was much more appealing. Your mood had deflated pretty quickly.
Heavy boots thumped against the wood floors and your door swung open. The familiar flaming red hair of your boyfriend could be made out by the light in the hall. “What the hell are you doing just sleeping? We gotta go in an hour.” Kid snaps.
You squint up at him in the dark and cut him off before he can ask why you haven’t finished up painting your face. “I can’t do the makeup part, I keep messing it up.” You sigh and sit up on the edge of the bed.
Kid scowls but doesn’t say much more. He just stalks in the bathroom and you can hear him rummaging around. Then he emerges, carrying a handful of random things from your makeup box. Flicking the light on, you hiss from the sudden blinding light and he just grunts.
Pulling a chair over, he pats the very edge of the bed and looks at you expectantly. “Come closer.” You scoot closer to the point where your face is just inches from his. Without any words, he just picks out a tube of black face paint and turns to you.
You shy away from his touch, the cool paint tickles your face. “Stay still damn it.” He mutters and you stick your tongue out at him, but still lean back in for him to continue. He’s silent, focusing closely on making sure everything is perfect.
While doing your makeup his fingers hold your face in a light grip. He’s surprisingly soft for such a brash man. When he needs you to look in a different way, his fingers carefully tilt your head to the side. They’re practically just ghosting over your skin.
Fixing up the finishing touches, he fixes up the makeup around your lips with a tissue. Kid’s eyes watch your lips intently as if he’s fighting back pulling you into a make out session right there. Finally, he pulls away with a cocky grin.
You check yourself in the mirror and a wide smile pulls at your lips. He’d done an amazing job at your makeup, you looked delightfully terrifying.
Kid stands next to you and leans into your side, completely proud of how well he’d done. Once again, he tilts your face towards him again. “We’re gonna blow all those other assholes at the party away.” Then he kisses you.
Tag list: @cjm-cookiethief @kirakirakill
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece headcanons#eustass kid#eustass captain kid#kid x reader#kid x you
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story of us ♡
pairing: atsumu x f!reader ♡
genre: angst // exes // mutual pining ♡
summary: at an inarizaki volleyball club reunion, you have the unfortunate displeasure of meeting your ex. you swore you’d be fine, you got over him years ago right? ♡
word count: 2k ♡
author’s note: sort of proofread hahwbaha - also not super angsty but yanno haha. been into writing again hehe ♡
♡ (inspired by the story of us by taylor swift) ♡
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry! I’ll see you tonight okay?”
It was only for one night, you could survive a few hours right? You sure hoped so. You quickly hung up on Suna, praying that he didn’t hear the waver in your voice. You were sure if you didn’t end the call when you did, he’d have had you figured out.
It’s not like you were dreading this, you had prepared for this night, it was inevitable; it had been planned for months. Were you honestly just kidding yourself? Probably, but you were certain that for just tonight you would be fine. It had been years since Miya Atsumu had broken your heart, and you wouldn’t let those feelings resurface. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t be sad or angry anymore.
“Tsumu.. what?”
“I just don’t think we should stay together after graduation you know?”
“But why?!”
“We’re both going in different directions and it just seems like the best thing for us. I’m sorry, I really am Y/N, good luck with everything”
It was awkward and ugly. You watched your first love walk away from you. Heavy tears cascaded down your face. Black eyeliner and mascara smudged from your fingers rubbing against your eyes in an attempted to stop them from watering even further. It sucked. Just a few moments ago you were celebrating finally being free of high school and going on with a new chapter in your life with your now ex boyfriend. Now you were here, with your eyes swollen and red, and your heart utterly shattered.
You never bothered with love after that.
You shook off the painful memory, deciding that it didn’t matter anymore. That was in the past, this was the present. Looking in the mirror to apply a gorgeous rogue lipstick you noticed your eyes start to slowly tear up. You supposed it didn’t matter how long ago it was, or how hard you desperately tried to forget.
Your heart would still hurt over it’s first holder.
You opted to go for a natural glam look - not something too much, but you wanted to look a little bit different than how you normally did on the daily. Part of you also wanted to show Atsumu just exactly what he let go. Was it petty? Sure, but you figured you earned it a little bit. With a classic little black dress, black strappy heels and red bag, you were ready to make your way to Onigiri Miya.
The Uber ride did little to ease your nerves. The closer you got to Osamu’s establishment, the closer you were to seeing him again. You honestly didn’t want to see Atsumu ever again, already rueful that you even agreed to come to the reunion. You guessed you owed it to the other members; you were the manager back in High School, and why should you let one jerk ruin seeing the friendly faces of the team again? Who knows when you all would be free again? Everyone was so busy nowadays, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, you could ignore Atsumu tonight. No one would ever blame you for it - they all knew what he did graduation night.
The car suddenly stopped, bringing you out of your thoughts. You muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver and slowly got out of the car. Your heart was pounding in anticipation, almost like it could feel the familiar presence of the one who owned it long ago. You wished your heart and head could be in sync, but one was reminding you of the hurt and pain that he inflicted, while the other yearned him despite it.
You took a deep inhale, steadying yourself. You could see the old volleyball team through the windows of Osamu’s restaurant, noting that you were in fact last to arrive. You didn’t want to admit it, but your eyes lingered on your old lover more than they should have.
Finally deciding that you couldn’t stay out in the middle of the street much longer (and the fact that you didn’t wear a jacket), you made your way to the building. Your heels clicking and clacking against the pavement, almost like a beat of impending doom. You couldn’t help but be a little dramatic; after all, what were you to do - you were about to see the only guy you had ever loved and he just so happened to have stepped on your heart.
It was surprisingly easy for you to plaster a smile on your face, greeting your old teammates with warm hugs and a beaming grin. You could’ve almost fooled yourself into thinking that you no longer felt any pain or resentment. That was until you briefly caught Atsumu’s figure in the corner of your eye. The awkwardness and tension was slowly rising inside of you. It was only for a split second but that was enough. You both locked eyes with each other for just a moment, before you both pulled your gazes away.
It was a lie, you weren’t fine at all.
For the entirety of the night, you ignored Atsumu. In fact, you completely disregarded his presence, pretending that he didn’t even exist.
And he did the same to you.
You silently gave your heart an apology, utterly siding with your head. You didn’t know whether this was the right choice, but it was yours nonetheless, and you weren’t going to back out of it now. You weren’t sure if the rest of the guys could sense the cold war between the both of you, though it wouldn’t surprise you if they did.
And they surely did.
It wasn’t that hard to note from everyone else that the ex lovers were tiptoeing around each other. Often noting the minuscule glances the both of you gave one another while the other wasn’t looking. It wasn’t hard to note that the both of you were so firmly stubborn, and refused to even say anything more than a greeting, which was definitely half-assed on both parties.
It wasn’t hard to see the anxiousness on both of your faces when the only available seat just happened to be next to you, and Atsumu had to awkwardly shuffle his way to the chair and plop down quietly.
It wasn’t hard for anyone to see that the both of you were still stupidly in love with each other.
They couldn’t tell if it did or didn’t make any sense. You and Atsumu were that couple. The high school sweethearts. The ones so in love, everyone else thought that you’d both actually make it. It definitely came as a huge shock when Atsumu had broken the news to his closest friends. Osamu could barely hear his twin on the phone, the hiccuping and sobs sounded foreign to him. What he could make out, however, was Atsumu saying “I let her go ‘Samu” followed by a burst of tears.
With both of your backs to one another, you continued on, as if you both weren’t there. It honestly hurt the rest of them to see. The once happy couple, who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other were now scooted on the edge of their seats, desperately grasping at any amount of space they could.
Did either of you know that neither one of you had dated, or been with anyone else since?
You kept chatting away, noting that the end of the night was dawning upon you, and that after this you’d never have to see Atsumu again - at least not for a long while. The night wasn’t all that terrible, and you supposed if this were to ever happen in the future once more, you wouldn’t be apposed to coming again. You felt a slight pang in your chest at that revelation. But it was what you wanted right? You were so dubious about this reunion because of him in the first place, it didn’t make sense to feel this way. You tried to brush it away - your heart couldn’t get what it wanted. One day it would lose his sense, and find another to beat for. The world was a big place, and even though it hadn’t found another, it would.
One day. It was all you could hope for.
As the last few minutes of the reunion drained on, members of the team excitedly decided to spend it taking group pictures. It all happened so fast and so quick, that you didn’t even register everyone piling in together. A phone set up on the counter, and bodies squished together. You had completely forgotten you were situated next to Atsumu. You couldn’t move, no matter how much you wanted to.
It was only for a few minutes, you could endure it.
Suddenly, you were accidentally pushed. Your heels making you unstable, and you tripped right into Atsumu. Both of his hands intertwined with yours, so naturally. It was the contact your heart was craving for all night. You muttered a quick sorry before promptly turning away from him.
For some reason, neither of you had let go of your hands closest to each other. You figured for just one last time, you’d indulge in the feeling of him, and that for once, you’d listen to what your heart wanted.
You smiled, did silly poses, stuck out your tongue, threw up peace signs and everything you could think of. And as you all got ready for one final picture, Atsumu squeezed your hand.
You didn’t hesitate to squeeze his right back.
And after a last click you all cheered and clapped, so thankful that tonight happened. Regrettably, you both had to let go. You savoured his touch, wanted to ingrain his fingerprints in your mind. He no longer made you angry or frustrated. The last few moments made you relive your happiest memories with him. It felt like such a shame to let it go, but you had to. You knew deep down, that your heart would never desire anybody else; but he made that choice long ago. There was nothing you could do anymore.
You’d now go on and pretend like he never existed, like you had been for years. You wondered if it was easy for him. It must’ve been really: he was rich, famous and you weren’t blind to the fact that he just looked better than ever. You were sure girls were fawning over him left, right and centre.
Once your Uber arrived, you quickly bid the boys a goodbye, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night. You were sure they were heading to a bar, and you didn’t want to impose on being the only girl. You’d let them have their boys night. You ducked out, your heels tapping, and the chime bell ringing above the door signalling your exit as you bounced out of sight.
Atsumu could only sigh at your departure secretly wishing that you’d come back and bound into his arms. But thats all it was, wishful thinking.
“Are you really just gonna let her go again?”
Atsumu turned to his brother with a sad smile.
“There’s nothing I can do. I can’t go back in time, and besides, she hates me and has since graduation. As much as I want to, I can’t do anything. Anyway got any booze?”
Atsumu brushed past everyone to head into the restaurants kitchen, hoping to find some form of alcohol to dull his senses and momentarily forget about you. He’s sure if he stayed any longer out there, he would’ve cracked. He was the one to end it, he didn’t have the right to go after you. It had been years, he’s sure you’d have moved on anyway. At least he got to see you tonight, and as short lived as it was, he was glad he got to hold your hand one last time.
Miya Atsumu had broken your heart, and you wouldn’t let those feelings resurface.
You smiled bitterly, looking out at the passing city lights, noting that that had indeed been true, because those feelings never left.
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Geraskier bathroom fucking at a night club 👀 (from @geraskier-trashh)
@geraskier-trashh Dani, what a prompt <3 I hope I did it justice. 932 words.
Warnings: Anal sex, it’s on the rough side, it’s implied they’ve been drinking but they aren’t drunk (more sort of buzzed), oh and public sex, although I figure that’s implied by the prompt. 18+
Jaskier cursed as his back slammed against the bathroom stall. The adonis of a man was tearing at the zipper on his jeans, hands pressing against his already hard dick. He hissed and let his head fall back against the stall. His jeans were forced down by rough hands, and his moaned wantonly as lips sucked just below his jaw. He’d always been weak for neck kisses.
“Fuck,” he gasped, head tilting to allow the silver-haired stranger better access to his neck.
“Hmm…” the man agreed. “No underwear?”
Jaskier laughed breathlessly. “In these jeans? No.”
He hummed again and then Jaskier heard the sound of ripping plastic, gasping as slick fingers teased his hole. “Oh shit!”
He’d been watching the man ever since he’d walked into the bar, long silver hair tied up in a bun, black leather jacket and thick eyeliner to match. His black jeans were sinfully tight and Jaskier hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the man’s strong muscular thighs and perfect arse. He hadn’t been subtle either, swaying his hips as he approached the bar, offering to buy perfect-arse a drink with a wink and a lick of his lips. The man’s gorgeous yellow eyes had practically devoured him on the spot and no more than ten minutes later had they fallen into the bathroom stall, barely able to break apart. Jaskier knew this was just a quickie in the bathroom but god, he wanted live the rest of his life kissing this man, this perfect gorgeous, god of a man.
And he didn’t even know his name…
He groaned, arse bearing down on the fingers that were fucking him, too quickly to be considered foreplay, they were both too eager to get that promisingly large cock up Jaskier’s arse. The man growled scissoring his fingers, the stretch almost too much. It stung a little but he didn’t mind, he wanted to feel this in the morning, never wanting to forget this gorgeous man. Jaskier pulled his lips from the man’s neck, smirking at the bruise he’d already left behind, before his smile was wiped from his face, fingers pushing deeper and brushing his prostate. He whined, eyes fluttering shut. “Holy shit, fuck!”
“Fuck, you’re so hot,”
“Ah, shit… I’m… I’m Jaskier,” he gasped, mouthing at the marks he’d left on the man’s neck, his fingers tugging at the hair tie that kept the long silver strands safely from Jaskier’s grasp.
“Geralt,” the man, Geralt, growled, moaning as Jaskier pulled at his hair. “Fuck.”
Jaskier giggled and pulled again, harder, thrusting his hips against Geralt’s. “Geralt,” he purred in his ear, his voice dropping to a low growl “I’m ready, darling, fuck me… make me come, ruin me.”
Geralt swore again, fumbling with his own trousers this time. Jaskier’s eyes went wide as Geralt’s cock was finally freed, he’d known it was big just from the sight of the hard bulge in the front of Geralt’s too tight jeans but holy fuck. He was never going to walk again, his knees felt weak at the thought, he whimpered and pulled Geralt into a fierce kiss, jumping up and wrapping his legs around Geralt’s waist. Geralt caught him easily, pressing his back against the stall, and Jaskier heard the sound of a condom wrapper… fucking finally.
“Can you at least try and stay quiet?” Geralt mumbled against his lips.
Jaskier nodded, gasping as he felt the blunt tip of Geralt’s cock pressing against his arse, teasing, so much thicker than his fingers. His head was already spinning, heat burning over every inch of his skin, every touch was like fire. His promise to be quiet soon forgotten as Geralt slid inside him, it was almost too much. He was just so big and Jaskier felt tears prick in his eyes at the pain, but they didn’t have long and Geralt was already moving. Jaskier sobbed as the pain turned to pleasure, all he could feel was Geralt, all he needed was Geralt, fucking him hard, slamming him into stall with every thrust. It took a few attempts to get the angle right, Geralt growling in frustration until a desperate cry fell from Jaskier’s lips, and then Jaskier was helpless in Geralt’s arms, just along for the ride as he was fucked within an inch of his life. His orgasm blinded him, sobbing into Geralt’s shoulder as he tried to muffle his screams. He wasn’t sure how long he blacked out for but he vaguely registered Geralt’s low groan before he pulled out, falling against the other side of the stall.
Jaskier whimpered, sliding to the floor, fucked out and blissfully ignorant of the sticky mess of a public bathroom. “Fuck,” he whispered.
Geralt snorted. “Yeah.”
He buried his face in his hands, trying to wash away the fog of his orgasm, but he was struggling, his heart was still thumping in his chest. He rest his head back and closed his eyes. “We are so doing that again sometime.”
“Yeah.”
He laughed as their eyes met, Geralt looked completely wrecked, face flushed, lips red and swollen, bruises blooming on his neck. His hair was a mess from Jaskier’s hands pulling at it in desperation, and his clothes were askew. Jaskier smirked, quite proud of his handiwork, although he knew he probably looked just as bad, if not worse. There was no way they were escaping the bathroom without anyone realising what they’d been doing. It was a lost cause.
“My place isn’t far… if you wanted…?” he trailed off, knowing Geralt would understand.
“Fuck, yes.”
_______
Tag list (18+ tag list): @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @00qtee @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare
#the witcher#geraskier#modern au#geralt of rivia#jaskier pankratz#18+ only pls#nsft#wolfie's witcher writing#suddenly-a-twilight-blog
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The One With The Morning After
Summary: Y/N has to deal with the aftermath of a night filled with booze, sex, and questionable choices.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 3,143
Warnings: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, a bit of smut, hangover
A/N: this was written for @smol-and-grumpy’s awesome challenge “SuperFriends Tittle Challenge”. The prompt is the title of this story of course. Hope you all enjoy it!
(x)
Few rays of sunshine struggled to get past the blinds and illuminate the room. As the warm light ghosted over your face, your eyes fluttered open. You blinked a few times before taking in your surroundings. A thin white sheet covered your body. You lifted it only to notice you were naked. You felt disgusting as if you had sweated the whole night.
Turning on your back, you noticed the guy you spent the night with was still there. He was on his side, his back to you. The sheet only covered his lower half. Fresh scratches covered his back. You didn’t have to put your tired mind through much thinking to know you were the one who caused them. As much as you wanted to see his face to at least have an idea if you had picked it right, you didn’t want to wake him and deal with the whole morning after thing. One night stands are good. You have fun and most of the time you get off. The problem was the morning after itself. Unlike most people, you thank god when you wake up and the guy has already left or when you wake up first and leave without explanation. The whole ‘it was good, I had fun’ was annoying. Every time you had to put an extra effort to not roll your eyes.
It was frustrating, to say the least when you didn’t even remember the guy’s appearance. You could only hope a glimpse of his face would come back to you. You took one last glance at him before getting up. You nearly choked when your eyes landed on the small scar on the side of his hip. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t recognize that scar. You were the one who stitched him up back then. Clothes formed a trail on the floor, you scooped them up and dressed as fast and as quiet as you could. Your heart was almost leaping out of your chest by the time you walked out of the room.
Outside of the motel, you allowed your breath to even and your heart to calm down in your chest. His car was parked only a few feet away. You ignored the shining impala and made your way back to the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you came to this particular motel so you knew the way.
It was early. Dean never wakes up before noon after a night at a bar. You had enough time to get home, shower, and take a nap before he came back. You could only hope he’d remember as much as you did. Nothing. The thought of ruining your friendship with Dean had your palms sweating. It was undeniable that you felt something for him. Those feelings were buried way too deep and throughout the years you learned how to live with them. He didn’t make it any easier on you though. Dean was constantly flirting with you. In the beginning, it was tough to be around him. Dean’s a flirt. Every now and then he’d give you his signature smirk and wink followed by a flirty comment. Although it caused a weak in your knees, you figured it was best to keep your feelings to yourself rather than risk losing him.
Arriving at the bunker, you made your way to the war room, hoping to find one of your best friends. There was no sign of Sam. You figured he’d either be on his morning run or making breakfast. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he must be home.
“Hey you,” you smiled, leaning on the fridge.
“Hey,” he greeted as he finished making his sandwich. “I didn’t expect you to be back already.”
“Yeah, I know. Just missed my bed I guess.”
“Dean’s not home yet. Did you hear from him?”
“Nope,” you were grateful he had his back to you and wouldn’t catch you lying.
“Do you want me to make you something?” He turned to you, hazel eyes widening as they roamed over your entire body. “You okay? You've been crying?”
“What? No, of course not. Why?”
“Your mascara or eyeliner, I don’t know, is a little smudged.”
“Oh,” your fingertips touched the skin under your eyes softly. You left in such a hurry that you didn’t even look in the mirror. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep with makeup on,” you shrugged. “Alright, I’m gonna take a shower then take a nap. Trust me, I need it.”
“Okay, you do you.”
You headed straight to the shower. The need to wash off the guilt and fear of ruining your thirteen-year friendship grew stronger by the second. You could only hope those feelings would be dispelled down the drain along with the stink of alcohol and sex. The water felt good on your tired body. You didn’t take long in there though. Every cell in your body claimed to be in bed again. You needed at least two more hours of sleep to survive the rest of the day. That and being away from Dean for twenty-four hours both physically and psychologically. Mission impossible.
Your eyes fell closed the second your body hit the soft mattress. Memory foam hugged your limbs, lulling you to sleep.
The headboard banged against the wall. Your mind was in a haze of alcohol and pleasure. Dean’s groans sounded distant. His hands were all over your body. His thrusts were erratic as he searched for the final push. You arched against him, breasts pressed to his firm chest. He whispered soft praises against your skin as a wave of pleasure consumed you.
Your eyes shot open as you sat in bed abruptly. Beads of sweat covered your forehead. Pulling the covers off, you got up, making a beeline to the bathroom. You washed your face in an attempt to get rid of the images of last night. It was in vain. The mirror only reflected how screwed you were. As if the images and the sounds running wild in your mind weren’t enough, your cleavage was covered in hickeys. You closed your eyes and suddenly you were back in that cheap motel room.
Dean’s lips kissed and sucked every patch of skin they could. Your hand shot to his head, fingers tugging at his hair. He groaned against the curve of your neck. His lips descended to your collarbone. Dean marked your skin as his hand squeezed your breast softly. He drunkenly mumbled “mine” against you.
Shaking the memory away, you turned off the tap and headed to your room. It was early which meant you had high chances of not seeing Dean. You just needed to eat and take a pill for the pounding headache. Then you could come back and hide in your room for the rest of the day. Pulling on a hoodie, you made your way to the kitchen.
“You’re awake,” Sam greeted. “Thought you were gonna sleep for the rest of the morning.”
“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, turning on the coffee maker before grabbing some bacon in the fridge for you to cook. “I wanted to, but I had a bad dream.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” you shrugged.
“I found us a case,” he announced as you sat in front of him with a plate and a mug in your hands. “Omaha, Nebraska. I think it’s a spirit. A quick salt and burn will do it.”
“Good. When do we leave?” you asked, munching the crispy bacon.
“Tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
“And, uh, do you mind if it’s just you and Dean on this one? Eileen and I have a date tomorrow and uh-“
“Yeah, s-sure. I don’t mind going alone with Dean. I mean… Why would I mind? It’s not like we haven’t been on hunts just the two of us.”
“Y/N? Is everything okay?”
“Sure,” you tried to keep your voice as normal as you could, but failed miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one acting weird.”
“Okay,” you sighed. “I need to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Last night I didn’t come home because I was with Dean. After you left the bar, we had a few more drinks. A lot more. And we slept together.”
“Finally,” he breathed out and you gasped at his reaction. “I just don’t understand why you guys went to a motel instead of coming home.”
“The motel was closer and we were kinda in a hurry.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” you said as you finished your breakfast.
“Why didn’t he come home with you?”
“I panicked when I saw him sleeping next to me. I practically ran out of the room. I think he won’t remember a thing. At least I hope he doesn’t.”
“Why? You’ve known each other for thirteen years. You have feelings for each other for at least ten. I’m surprised it took this long for something to happen.”
“You don’t understand, Sam,” you shook your head. “I can’t ruin my friendship with him. I can’t risk that.”
“Of course you can. You’re just afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Dean asked as he walked into the room. You nearly gasped. He shouldn’t be back already.
Dean was sporting a hickey on the right side of his neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of it.
“I’m afraid of spiders and I can’t kill them,” you said fast before Sam could say anything.
Dean only hummed, opening the fridge and grabbing a pot with overdue food. He put some in his mouth but spat most of it, grimacing. A chuckle left your lips at the scene.
“What you got?” he mumbled, turning on the coffee machine.
“Salt and burn. Omaha, Nebraska. Should be easy for you and Y/N.”
“You not tagging along?”
“Nah, got a date with Eileen,” Sam smiled.
“You’re finally getting some,” the older Winchester teased. “Y/N and I can cover it. We are a great team, right sweetheart?”
He gave you a wink. You wondered if he remembered anything of your activities the previous night.
“Right,” you clicked your tongue.
Dean grabbed his coffee and sat beside you. He stank of alcohol and sex. He should’ve gone straight to the shower but he didn’t. He was still in the same clothes as last night for crying out loud.
“Dude, you smell terrible,” Sam grimaced.
“That, Sammy, is the smell of a man who had a crazy night of hot sex. You should try it sometime.”
Fuck, he remembers, you cursed.
“You’re disgusting.”
“No, I’m not. It’s a shame I had what was probably the best night of my life and I don’t remember shit. Not even her face. She left without a note. She could at least have left her phone number somewhere. But she did leave this bad boy here,” he pointed to the purple mark in his neck.
You could only hope neither of them would notice your flaming cheeks. He was so close. You were afraid he’d take one look at your face and all the memories would come back to him. You were afraid he’d still be able to smell his scent ingrained in your skin.
“I do remember some things though. Hmmm, some really good things,” Dean nearly moaned as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Sam quickly glanced at you, hazel eyes wide before staring back at his brother. “Whoever she was she surely knew what she was doing to me. Her body was trapped under mine as if she belonged there. Her hands all over my body, exploring it. Oh, and her skin felt so good under my touch. That I remember damn well.”
You fought hard to repress a moan. The words rolled out his tongue in a sensual song. Your thighs clenched unwittingly. Though you were as much aroused as you were embarrassed. He was saying all that in front of his brother after all. Sam didn’t want to know anything about Dean’s activities, but the look in his eyes told you he was having fun seeing you suffer.
“And she smelled good too. So fucking good. I swear that if I close my eyes, I can feel her touch. I can even hear her soft moans. What wouldn’t I give just to know her name.”
“Maybe you should try asking the bartender if he remembers her face or even her name,” Sam suggested and you kicked his foot under the table. “I’m sure he might remember something.”
“She felt absolutely perfect,” Dean completely ignored his brother. “The way her fingers tugged at my hair, making it hurt just a little. Then her legs wrapped around me and… fuck,” he growled. “That was mind-blowing. She clenched around me so tight-”
“Dude, too much information. You should keep that to yourself,” Sam interrupted his brother while you prayed neither of them had listened to the small groan that left your lips.
“All I’m saying is she was too fucking hot. I wished she could’ve had the decency of leaving me her number,” he sighed. “If you guys think this hickey is the only thing she left for me, you’re wrong. She might not have left a note, but she did leave some real sexy marks all over me. Hmm, I love it when they mark me up. So damn hot.”
“Dude-“
“And if I concentrate hard enough I can still taste her in my tongue,” Dean smirked.
“That’s enough, man. I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”
Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and took one last gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.
“Excuse me, but I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap. I’m tired,” you hurriedly stood from your seat. “I’ll catch with you guys later.”
As you disappeared in the hall, Dean’s grin got even wider as he shook his head. Sam scoffed, realization dawned on him.
“You remember, don’t you?” Sam asked his brother, a smile on his lips.
“Every single detail,” Dean nodded with a smirk.
“Dude, you aren’t worth a penny.”
“What can I say? I love seeing her squirm.”
“You should go after her.”
“I am,” Dean said. “I’m just gonna give her some time to pull herself together.”
Sam nodded. Silence fell between the brothers. Each of them lost in their own world. Dean tried to come up with a way to approach you without making it weird. Sam tried to erase the images his brother put in his mind. The younger Winchester was sure he threw up in his mouth a little. Dean had given him a share of traumas concerning sex when they were teenagers and now this?
Dean got up from his seat and before he headed to your bedroom, he placed his mug on the dishwasher. He was about to leave the kitchen but stopped and glanced at his brother.
“You were the only one who didn’t score last night, Samuel,” he teased and Sam rolled his eyes.
Three soft knocks on the door startled you, dragging you out of your trance. Mumbling a “c’mon in”, you straightened yourself at the edge of the bed.
“Hey,” Dean smiled, peeking his head through the door.
“Hi,” you smiled, a thumping beat of your heart in your chest.
Dean made his way to your bed and sat just a few inches from you. His thigh brushing against yours.
“How’re you feeling?” He glanced at you but your eyes were fixated on the closed door.
“Really tired. You?”
“Exhausted. Don’t know if I should take a shower or a nap.”
“I think you need both,” you smiled as a chuckle reverberated in his throat.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue, green eyes falling in his hands as he rubbed them together. “You know, I must confess that you did rock my world last night.”
“You remember?” You stared at him wide eyed only to meet a crooked grin on his lips. “Of course you do,” groaning, you buried your face in your hands.
“How could I ever forget?”
“We had a lot of drinks. A whole lot.”
“Yeah, guess I just needed to get my ass drunk to finally go after something I wanted.”
“Don’t do this, Dean,” you pleaded, staring into his forest green eyes.
“I thought last night meant something, you know? I thought it would change things between us for the best. I couldn’t believe I was the only one feeling something. Not with the way we look at each other and the constant flirting and the way we hold each other. Now imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“Dean, I-“
“I thought you were gonna be there. I thought we were gonna talk and figure things out between us, but you didn’t even give me a chance. It felt as if you regretted it, as if what happened between us was a mistake,” his voice was low, barely upon a whisper.
“No, Dean, I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t a mistake but we shouldn’t have done it.”
“Why? Why shouldn't we have done it? Give me one good reason why.”
“Because we are friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“We were never friends, Y/N. I feel something for you from day one. And I know you feel something for me too. Now you either-“
You captured his plump lips in yours. His eyes widened and it took him a second before kissing you back. His hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek. The gentle press of his lips almost made your heart leap out of your chest. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking. Dean placed a small peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.
“Now I either what?” You giggled, opening your eyes and finding his still closed.
“I don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess this changes things, right?”
“Mmhmm,” your hands were on each side of his neck as you pecked his lips.
“Good.”
“I hate to tell you but you need a shower.”
“Yeah, I do,” he said sheepishly, his hands were on your waist as he moved you to straddle his lips. “But I think you should come with me. You know, that whole save water, shower together thing.”
“Hmmm, I’ve kinda already showered.”
“Do it again. I promise you won’t regret it,” he smirked.
“I thought you said you hated shower sex. You said it was too complicated.”
“I don’t hate it. It is complicated though, but I’m sure we can work things out,” he grinned, standing up with you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “‘Sides, you ought to see all the damage you caused last night.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”
I’d love to know what you think of this one!! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!
Note that if your name is crossed, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(
Forevers: @hobby27 @thewinchesterandreidwhore
Dean Sweethearts: @maya-craziness @akshi8278 @herfalsegod @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @deanmonandnegansbitch
#superfriendstitlechallenge#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#dean x you#dean winchester x you#deanreader#dean winchester imagine
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Conceal and Reveal
This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge.
The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. I ended up adding about 600 words (is anyone surprised at this point? 😅)
The prompt I used this time around was: Tan lines (although I went for the more painful cousin, sunburn lines)
And while I was writing, I started to consider this a prequel to Love Somebody Who Ruins Your Lipstick, one of the first sprint challenges I did. I always kind of regretted that I didn't show Luka actually putting the lipstick on her, or the conversation that they had that made Marinette realize *things* so, here it is. This can be read separately, but there's smooches in the other one, so....
Read on Ao3
Marinette detransformed in a flash of pink light in an alley close to the Liberty. If she was lucky she’d be just in time for Kitty Section practice. She slipped a macaron to Tikki and ran, still blinking spots from her eyes from the akuma she and Chat Noir had defeated moments earlier. She’d had a blinding power, as bright as the sun, and it baked like the sun, too. Marinette had had several near misses with it, and as she ran towards the houseboat the wind stung against her face. She could only hope she hadn’t been burned too badly.
She skidded to a stop in front of the gangplank and carefully climbed aboard before she realized that while she’d thought she would barely be on time… no one was there yet.
A quick check of her phone found a group text postponing practice due to the akuma. Which meant she was an entire fifteen minutes early. Enough time to breathe and try not to be angry with Chat Noir for sacrificing himself for the millionth time. Enough time to try to scrub the memory of him disappearing in a flash of blinding light from her mind’s eye.
She took a deep breath and it came out as a groan as she fell onto her usual cardboard box in front of the stage and covered her face with her hands.
“Marinette?” a familiar voice called. When she peeked between her fingers, she found Luka kneeling in front of her, his concerned blue eyes trained on her. But they widened when he caught sight of her face.
“Uh, Marinette? You’ve got…” He chuckled and gestured around his eyes. Marinette reached up to touch her cheek and winced as it stung again under her fingers. Luka glanced around at the empty boat before he stood and offered her a hand up. “Come with me,” he said, and pulled her gently over to the stairs that led below deck.
At the bottom of the stairs, he paused and held up a hand for her to wait as he looked around. When he seemed satisfied, he led her to the bathroom on the side and shut the door behind them quickly and locked it behind himself.
She didn’t have the energy to ask him what was wrong as he hooked his foot around the leg of a stool under the sink to pull it out and pointed at it for her to sit. When she had, he turned to a small linen closet and took out a black and purple makeup bag. As he turned back and saw her watching him, he chuckled again and gestured to the mirror and she was barely able to process that he wanted her to look at herself.
But when she did she gasped and covered her face with her hands again, hissing in a pained breath as her bright red cheeks turned white under her touch. Only the skin around her eyes was left untouched—in the exact shape of her Ladybug mask.
“Luka, I can explain—” she started, but he just smiled and started taking different bottles and sponges and brushes out of the bag.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said easily. “We can cover it up.”
“But—” He was too calm, too collected. Why wasn’t he freaking out? She was definitely freaking out. This was an absolute disaster! And Luka was acting like… like he’d thought about it before. Like this was expected—normal, even. She tilted her head to consider him. “Did you know?”
“Know what?” he asked innocently, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in a small smirk. “Hold still and close your eyes.”
She huffed impatiently at him, but did as he asked and his fingers swept something liquid and cool over her burning cheeks. As soon as he was finished, she opened her eyes again and hardened her gaze.
“Luka, seriously. How long have you known?”
He didn’t answer right away, instead keeping his head down, the blue tips of his hair falling over what little of his face she could see as he searched through the bag for something else he needed. The stick he pulled out was seafoam green, and when he took the top off and twirled the bottom, so was the product inside it. She pulled back from him as he turned back to her.
“That’s green,” she pointed out, a little bewildered. He laughed.
“And you’re red. They cancel each other out. Trust me.” He gestured for her to come back to him and she did, albeit reluctantly. He held her chin in his hand as he dabbed the green product along the hard line of her sunburn, contouring it along her cheeks and nose as he went. When he set it down, he started feathering it with the pads of his fingers, and that’s when his eyes met hers again.
“I suspected, I guess,” he answered finally. “It wasn’t anything solid, just a feeling.”
She caught his hand. “You can’t tell anyone. Not even Juleka.”
“Technically, I still don’t know anything for sure,” he said, chuckling. “There’s two people in Paris who might be having this issue right now. You could be either of them.” That little smirk twitched upwards as he teased her. But his words hit her sore heart and she couldn’t help but wince.
“I’m not Chat Noir,” she said quietly.
His hand lingered to cup her cheek and a beat of silence passed between them. “No, you’re not.”
After another moment, he smiled sadly and let her go, picking up a bottle of a more skin-colored shade and squirting a bit on the back of his hand. They were both quiet as he started sponging the foundation on for her. She only noticed that a tear had slipped down her cheek when he brushed it away gently.
“I saw on the news,” he murmured. “It must be hard.”
She nodded, but if the lump in her throat was any indication if she tried to speak she’d only end up crying and ruining Luka’s hard work.
“You must mean a lot to him,” he continued, “if he trusts you so much.”
“I wish he didn’t sometimes,” she admitted. He nodded and hummed, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he turned to switch products again, this time a white, shimmery powder and a fluffy brush. He ghosted it across her skin, focusing on her cheeks and nose before he set everything down and gestured for her to look again.
She barely recognized herself. All she saw were tired, sad blue eyes in a mask of pale skin with pink cheeks.
“Is that me?” she couldn’t help but ask. Luka looked in the mirror with her, then turned her face back to him gently.
“Two more things,” he said, smiling, and she could’ve sworn she saw a thought flash through his eyes. Something he hadn’t meant for her to see. He dug in the bag and pulled out two things she finally recognized—eyeliner and a lipstick tube.
He didn’t even have to tell her and she closed her eyes for him again, leaning her face forward blindly until his hand was cupping her cheek again. She felt him steady himself before the pen was on her eyelid. He drew soft, feathery strokes at first along her lash line, then winged it out on the side. She waited until he’d completed the other side before she opened her eyes and her breath caught.
She hadn’t expected him to be so close.
Apparently he had the same reaction because he chuckled nervously and drew back, then tipped her chin from side to side, checking his work. As he set the eyeliner pen down and reached for the tube of lipstick, she noticed his fingers were trembling. He had to take a deep breath and then he turned back to her with a crimson lipstick uncapped in his hand and a small angled brush.
He cleared his throat before he tapped the brush against the color, then gestured for her to lean forward again. She set her chin in his hand and watched as his eyes focused on her lips. As he followed their contours with the brush, only stopping occasionally to pick up more color.
And as he stopped once more to admire his work, his thumb lingering in the hollow of her chin and his eyes catching on hers, still full of that same thought she couldn’t quite place.
“There,” he breathed. “Ready to face anything.”
#miraculous ladybug#ml fic#mlb fic#lukanette#Pro LukaMari#lukanette endgame#endgame lukanette#marinette dupain cheng#luka couffaine#lbsc sprint fic challenge#panda sprints
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No relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together- Adrien AUGrest Day 3
Doing this event again and even though there are less prompts, still might only be able to do a few. Still hope you like this though, it a Descendants AU, with Adrien as Rapunzel and Eugene’s son and Luka and Juleka as Captain Hook’s kids, but they were looked after by their mom cause Arnaka is amazing.
Umbrella
Adrien wasn’t sure if it was his anger that made him blind to the weather outside. He had a good reason; it was like most of the council didn’t even care about those from the Isle. Most of his classmates thought they were hooligans who deserved to live there. No one deserved to live in complete poverty, with no running water or access to food. That fact that it had been allowed to go on for 20 years and for those heroes who started out from humble beginnings to not care? It filled him with rage he didn’t know he had.
Did he want Mother Gothel anywhere near his mom? No, of course not? She kidnapped her and locked her in a tower and tried to kill his father, not to mention abandon his Aunt Cassandra. But if she had a child, then that child deserved to live life not suffering for food. He didn’t know how many of the villains had changed and cared about their children now, but from what he got from the new VKs attending their school now, there weren’t many. The number of heroes who wanted things to change were so few it was taking so much to even get the council to listen to him.
Maybe dating a VK made things harder but he wouldn’t change that for the world. Maybe he got his type from his mom, rugged guys who had hearts of gold. Though, Luka was nowhere near as vain as his dad could be when he got into one of his moods.
He stared at the rain, thinking about how unfair everything was and how his home was full of hypocrites when he heard a welcome voice.
“Stuck in the rain kitty cat?”
Luka, son of one Captain James Hook, was nothing like his father. He had a mild temper, was a mother duck and didn’t hate the people of Auradon on principal. He said it was because of Anastasia, Cinderella’s step sister, talking about all the good things Cinderella did for her. Adrien just thought Luka had a kind heart to not judge before he met people. Adrien made himself available as a friend when the VKs came to Auradon and Luka just accepted it without judgement. They’d talked and interacted the longest and what had first been a simple flirting to keep the more overzealous girls at bay, turned into giving him baked goods as a thank you then an invite to explore the Enchanted Woods and teaching Luka how to swim better in the Lake and then…the kiss. It just happened, Luka somehow more nervous to swim in a lake than shark infested sea water and holding on to the edge of the stone gazebo, Adrien calming him down, them staring at each other and it just, happening. Adrien felt fireworks and he knew.
Not that anything after had been easy. Telling people turned out to be the worst idea ever. None of his Auradon friends wanted him with Luka, thinking the pirate had spelled him. The VKs that didn’t trust Adrien thought he was only with him for publicity. It was hard and difficult and Luka was so worth it, but he questioned if they were making the right choice. His parents assured him he was.
“When you met someone, you know can change your whole world, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. You need to listen with your heart.” His mom said.
“Besides, no relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together. that’s what your grandparents told us after we wondered if we could still get married after the whole debacle with your Aunt Cassandra.” His dad explained.
If his parents, who’d been two totally different people made it work, than he could do it with Luka. and so far, despite the storm they faced with judgement, they kept each other warm through it all.
“Hi my jolly sailor.” Adrien loved how Luka looked in his black coat, the snake wrapped around the Jolly Roger living on its back.
“You look upset.” Luka said sympathetically. He always seemed to understand how Adrien was feeling, even without saying anything.
“Meeting didn’t go well. How they can spout about being heroes yet turn their backs on people in need, I’ll never understand. Plus this rain isn’t helping.” Adrien said pouting at it.
“I like the rain.” Luka said.
“But it’s always cloudy on the Isle.”
“Yes. The barrier doesn’t make the weather the greatest but I don’t know. Maybe it was because mom is always with us, but when the rain would turn into a storm and rock the boat, she’d have me and Jules lay with her on a hammock and we’d feel the boat rock back and forth. Even hearing dad yell at the other pirates to secure the boat didn’t bother me. It just felt really relaxing. Honestly, the rocking boat has been the thing I’ve been missing the most.”
“Not your mom?”
“Well, we video chat with her whenever Fairy Godmother can arrange it and speak for ages after that, so it’s not too bad. But yeah, the boat rocking always made me fall asleep easier.”
Adrien didn’t know how he didn’t realise the dark circles under Luka’s eyes. Now that he knew they seemed to stand out more against his eyeliner. Part of him felt guilty that Luka seemed to always be there, even when the night got late if Adrien asked to see him. He opened his mouth to ask when Luka started to pull his jacket off.
“Didn’t bring an umbrella. I was waiting here when it started up, so we’ll have to run fast. I suggest holding on to your bag tight, ok?” Luka said, lifting his jacket so it was over their heads and stepped close to him. “Ready?”
Adrien nodded. While Luka was more open than the rest of the VKs, he would still clam up if Adrien pushed too hard. So he’d have to plan a little.
_________________
“Ok, step up. Oh, sorry!” Adrien said, tilting the umbrella back so Luka wouldn’t get wet again. It was still raining later in the week, which was perfect for what Adrien had planned.
“Kitty, what are we doing?” Luka asked, still obediently covering his eyes with a gloved hand. His hair was starting to curl slightly from the rain.
“You’ll see.” He brought them to the middle, letting Luka stay close so they were both under the umbrella. “Ok, open your eyes.”
Luka did as he as told, looking around at the rather old school yacht they were standing on. The sails were tied up and the seating on the deck were covered to protect them from the rain, but the elegant lines of the 33m VIP ketch still stood out in the greyness of the rain.
“Where are we?”
“On the Flynn Rider, my parents’ yacht. My dad sailed around when he was pretty young so he chooses this one and named it after the name he went by when he met my mom for the first time. It was from a story book he read when he lived in the orphanage. He says if he never read the stories, he would never have met mom later. You said you like sleeping on a rocking boat in the rain. It doesn’t shake that much but it’s still pretty ok. No hammock but you can still feel the rocking on my loft bed. Is this, ok?”
Luka took the umbrella from Adrien to free Adrien up to be pulled closer and kissed him. “You certainly always surprise me kitty. It’s prefect, thank you. you up for cuddling with this pirate?”
“Always.”
#adrienaugreste#adrienaugust#established lukadrien#disney descendants au#son of rapunzel adrein#son of captain hook luka
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Merry Christmas, antisocial-af!
For @antisocial-af: (HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!)
*****
Why did I even agree to this in the first place?
Alec wondered to himself as he checked his watch again for the tenth time in the last five minutes.
His date was late, exceedingly late in fact, and he was beginning to feel pathetic; the waitress had been giving him a look of pity for the last half an hour.
Alec had begrudgingly agreed to be set up on a blind date by his sister. It had become the general consensus among his siblings that he needed to get out and finally meet somebody.
“You need to get laid big brother.” Isabelle had said with a smirk as Jace had laughed.
“She’s right man.” Jace had agreed wholeheartedly. “At the very least it’d lighten you up a bit.”
Alec had been incredulous. “This is really none of your business and I don’t think—”
“I know someone!” Isabelle piped in suddenly with a grin.
“See! Problem solved Alec. We’ll get you laid soon enough.” Jace had said clapping Alec on his back.
Why he had eventually agreed to the blind date was anyone’s guess, even Alec himself was questioning it, especially since the guy had apparently decided not to show.
“That’s it. I’m—”
“I am so sorry I’m late!”
Alec looked up startled. In front of him was what had to be the most uniquely beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. His hair was swept up in an elegantly wavy coif with blue highlights, his eyes were traced in black eyeliner with some kind of shimmery eyeshadow that helped bring out the beautiful bronze of the man’s eyes. His lips were plump with a slight pink gloss to them, which Alec wanted nothing more than to kiss.
Wait…what?
Alec shook his head and closed his eyes.
Get a hold of yourself Alec.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, finding his blind date looking at him with wide eyes.
“Look, you’re probably angry with me, which I totally get, but I have a very good excuse I swear—"
The man stopped rambling as Alec held up both his hands indicating that the other man should stop.
“You’re here now, which is all that matters, right?” Alec said straightening up and focusing his attention on his date.
The other man smiled softly at Alec and gently nodded his head.
“Right. Let me formally introduce myself, I’m Magnus, Magnus Bane.”
“Alec.”
The two men shook hands and neither one could keep the smiles off their faces.
“Wow, Isabelle really hit the nail on the head with you.” Alec couldn’t help but say, feeling himself blush as his own words hit his ears.
The other man, Magnus, was quiet for a moment, looked unsure before a Cheshire grin spread over his face.
“Can’t say I heard as much about you, but I don’t think words could do you justice Alexander.”
Alec paused a moment, his full name coming from the man in front of him causing a shiver to radiate up his spine.
I like that.
Alec chuckled and smiled back at the man who seemed like such a force of nature, all he wanted was to try and contain it just for himself.
So, the two men chatted and laughed and drank together for the next couple of hours. The waitress who had previously been looking at Alec with pity was now looking on at him with envy. It felt really good he had to admit to himself.
Magnus was an impressive man. He owned his own night club (he’d been helped out with a loan by his grandmother), but he’d been the one to turn it into a successful venture. He was also an artist; painting was his main forte, but he also enjoyed writing poetry every now and again.
“Maybe one day you could show me a piece of your work.” Alec had said nonchalantly.
Smirking Magnus had replied with, “Maybe one day I’ll let you see my piece. I’ve been told it’s quite impressive.”
Alec had nearly choked on his food at that.
“I didn’t—That’s not—”
“Alexander, relax,” Magnus had said reaching forward and clasping his hand over Alec’s. “I’m just flirting with you, no need to get flustered, though I must admit you’re even more adorable now than you were ten minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry gentleman, but we’re closing in five minutes.” It was their waitress who did have guilty look on her face.
Magnus swiped the check from her before Alec even had a chance.
“It’s on me my dear Alexander. I was late after all.”
Alec couldn’t stop the stutter that made its way out of his mouth as he tried to protest, but it was a losing battle. The man before him had bewitched him. Everything about Magnus Bane left him feeling hungry for more. His sister sure knew how to pick guys.
They ended up exchanging numbers, promising each other to text when they made it home safely.
Magnus took Alec’s hand in his and placed a gentle kiss to the top of it. Alec’s eyebrows were up to his hairline as Magnus looked up meeting his gaze.
“Goodnight, sweet prince.”
And in a flourish Magnus Bane was gone.
Alec was in a daze most of the way home. He also had the biggest smile on his face. Izzy definitely had outdone herself.
His phone rang suddenly, and he answered without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Alec?”
“Hey Isabelle, what are you—”
“Did Jason show up?”
Alec looked at his phone in confusion.
“Um, who’s Jason?”
“Shit, what an asshole, I should have known.”
“Iz you really need to figure out what you’re saying because I just had the best date I’ve had in years, and you’re kind of freaking me out here.” Alec said stopping.
“Well, I don’t know how that would have been possible Alec, because the guy I fixed you up with turned out to be a total prick and decided not to show. I had been so scared you’d just sat there all night alone…"
“Ok Izzy wait a second. So, if the guy who you set me up with didn’t show then who the hell did I have dinner and desert with for the last two and a half hours?”
“Oh, Alec I—I’m not sure. Two and a half hours, really? That’s Amazing!”
“Not the point Iz.” Alec said impatiently trying not to freak out.
“What was the guy’s name?”
“I don’t think that matters—”
“Alec just tell me the guy’s damn name.”
Sighing Alec shook his head. “Magnus Bane. That’s his name.”
There was a moment of silence before Isabelle started to scream on the other line. Alec had to hold the phone out from his ear.
“Iz? Isabelle? Can you stop screaming I kind of need my hearing.”
Laughing Isabelle stopped her yells and took in a few deep breaths.
“Alec, Magnus Bane? He’s only one of New York’s most prominent eligible bachelors. He frequents bars, restaurants, and night clubs sometimes. And he, Oh! He must have seen you were a damsel in need of rescuing and decided—”
“Isabelle, I am not a damsel.” Alec interrupted, feeling all the hope and excitement from the date drain from him.
There was another moment of silence before she answered.
“Alec listen, I didn’t mean anything by that. Magnus Bane has very high standards when it comes to those he takes interest it, he might have a reputation of sorts but he really is a good guy, at least from what I understand.”
“Iz if you think that’s suppose to make me feel better—”
His phone buzzed and he noticed a text message from Magnus.
“Not home yet, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Tonight, was fantastic, but I have a confession to make. I wasn’t your blind date. I saw you sitting there looking absolutely stunning and the idea of leaving you alone seemed cruel to me. So, I took a chance and I am glad I did. If you forgive me, I’d like to see you again. What do you say?”
Alec felt the wind knock itself out of him, and he actually smiled.
“Isabelle, I’ll call you later I have a text to respond to.”
And without letting her respond he hung up.
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Text
Reflection
Tucker passed in front of a mirror and stopped, did a double take. He'd been doing that a lot, lately, ever since what he and his friends referred to as the 'Egypt incident.' He raised one hand and traced a line under his eye, his lower eyelashes ruffling.
"You checking your eyeliner, Fol-ey?" asked Dash, bumping into him, rudely.
Tucker avoided stabbing himself in the eye and caught himself on the sink. He frowned at the reflection of the jocks in the mirror and scanned the locker room for Danny. Alas, his best friend must still be running punishment laps in the gym.
"Looking for Wimp-ton to save you? That's pretty pathetic," said Dash, jabbing Tucker again.
Tucker spun to face them and started to back away. He wondered if it would be okay to fight back under these circumstances, or if he would get in trouble. Because Tucker could fight. Maybe not as well as Sam and Danny, he was more the tech guy of their group, but all of them could throw a punch. Heck, Tucker could pull back a bow and put an arrow into the center of a target a hundred feet away. That took arm strength.
If he fought Dash, he'd probably win.
But fighting was generally frowned upon at school and with the other jocks as witnesses... Yeah, that wouldn't pan out well. His parents would take his side, but he didn't want to get a bad reputation with the teachers. One of the trio had to stay on their good side. Obviously it couldn't be Danny, and Sam was too argumentative, so it fell to him.
He sighed. Well, he could take a punch, too, if it came to that. He took off his glasses and put them on the back of the sink.
"What're you doing that for?" asked Dash.
"Good glasses are expensive, Dash," said Tucker, flatly, glaring up at the taller boy. "They're also made of glass. I don't want to be wearing them if you decide to hit me in the face."
Dash stared down at him, as though seeing him for the first time. He humphed. "You take all the fun out of it," he complained. "Come on, guys," he said to the other jocks, leading a parade out of the locker room. Tucker sighed and looked back at the mirror.
Eyeliner, huh? Dash probably would have been surprised to find out that Tucker had thought that he'd seen eye makeup on his face. Kohl. No. Not kohl. That was a recent word, and not completely accurate. Mesdemet for the black. Udju for the green. He blinked, unsure where the words had come from.
No, he knew where the words had come from. He just didn't want to think about it.
Danny stumbled into the room, banging the door behind him. "Hi," he said, waving at Tucker. He paused. "Are you okay? You look kind of..." Danny trailed off and shrugged.
"I'm fine," said Tucker. "Just talked my way out of getting beaten up by Dash."
"What, really?" asked Danny, his eyes flickering over Tucker. "Are you sure you're fine? He didn't hit you?"
"Nope. I'm really fine."
He hoped.
.
The archery club met right after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, regularly, contrasting with the computer club, which met 'whenever' and 'online.' Usually, meetings coincided with Danny getting detention and Sam's activist stuff. Tucker thought of these afternoons as their 'alone time.' Otherwise, they were, well, not quite joined at the hip, but...
It was a near thing.
Tucker wouldn't have minded if Sam and Danny did join the archery club (or the computer club, for that matter), but it could be nice to have some time away, so that he could sort through certain thoughts. Thoughts such as: What was happening to him?
Because he really had thought that he had thrown off the influence of Duulaman's ghost, or that weird staff, or Hotep-Ra, or whatever had been going on that week, and yet, here he was, over a week later, hallucinating himself wearing Egyptian makeup, of all things.
He squared himself on the edge of the archer range and checked that it was clear. The other members of the club were working with the closer targets. Tucker thought that he would challenge himself today. He pulled back.
The thing was, at the end, when Hotep-Ra was gone, and Tucker was back to himself, he had been able to use that staff, the Scarab Scepter, to return everything to normal. He wasn't sure he should have been. He had no idea how that staff worked. Yet, in that moment he had.
And he did look an awful lot like Duulaman.
"You're doing great today, Foley!" called the club advisor from across the range. "Are you sure you don't want to shoot competitively?"
Tucker rolled his eyes. "I'm sure!" Then he caught sight of his arrows. They were all clustered neatly in the bullseye.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Tucker was good. He wasn't, quite, that good. Not at this range. But, in the moment, as he was shooting, he hadn't registered anything as being unusual. He remembered looking at them as he was aiming, so he wasn't just spacing out.
Archery was practiced in Ancient Egypt, wasn't it? He remembered seeing murals. He remembered the sun shining down on his shoulders as his entourage...
... What?
Tucker frowned. This wasn't going to go away, was it?
.
The computer screen cast Tucker's dark bedroom in a blue light. The only sound was him typing away at the keyboard.
Tucker didn't want to worry Danny and Sam. Mostly Danny. He had enough to deal with without worrying that his best friends was going to go crazy and try to kill him. Again.
He cringed. He did not have the best track record when it came to that particular thing. Then again, neither did anyone else close to Danny.
Hence not wanting to worry Danny.
Maybe he should talk to Sam, though. Out of everyone he knew, she was the only one who'd been mind controlled in a similar way. She hadn't said anything about having hallucinations post-Undergrowth, but, then, she wouldn't, would she? Sam had the same reasons Tucker did for keeping quiet.
Tucker made a face at himself. It was probably a sign that their relationship wasn't as healthy as it looked, keeping secrets from each other like this. But... he knew Danny kept secrets. They all did, and they were fine with it. So, Tucker or Sam keeping secrets was fine, too.
As long as it didn't turn into murder attempts. That was not fine.
Tucker slipped his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes and returned his attention to the screen. He was researching Duulaman, and had dived deep into the academic side of the internet. He'd come up against a dozen paywalls and dismissed them all with a few keystrokes.
Duulaman. Pharaoh of Kemet. A descendant of Hatshepsut and an ancestor of Tutankhamen. He had been a fairly progressive member of his family, restoring several of Hatshepsut's monuments after other of his ancestors had done their best to destroy them, making laws concerning the treatment of slaves and foreigners, and forging peace with neighboring countries. He had been well-liked, his popularity having been attested to even years after his death by inscriptions in other graves, praying that their inhabitants would find themselves under Duulaman's rule in the afterlife. He'd been famed for his athletic and magical abilities.
Sadly, academic publications were as skeptical about magic as they were about ghosts.
Tucker rubbed his eyes again.
Duulaman had been murdered. According to his brother, the pharaoh who had succeeded him, the deed had been done by an advisor whose name and image had been systematically removed from everything.
Probably Hotep-Ra. That fit with the ghost's whole thing, and the fact that Tucker couldn't find any information on him.
After another relatively fruitless hour, Tucker pried himself from the chair and went to bed.
.
He turned the fine silver mirror over in his hands, contemplating its polished surface. It had been a 'gift' from a Mitanni noble, and had carried a brutal curse into the heart of Kemet, but the curse was loose, now, wound around his very soul, and the mirror itself was merely a harmless, empty vessel.
One that Duulaman could learn from. He ran his fingers along the strange symbols scored on the outer edge of the mirror.
If his advisors would stop arguing for just a moment.
"We must attack at once!" said Hotep-Ra. "This insult against the person of god cannot be borne!"
"But it is harvest season," objected another. "We cannot afford to take the men from the fields. There would be famine!"
"Hotep-Ra," said Duulaman, softly, "brother of my heart, it was not even their king that sent this. Would you raze their whole kingdom and force a tragedy on their own for the sake of one man?"
"One who attacked you and our kingdom through dread magics?" asked Hotep-Ra. "Yes, my pharaoh."
"Then perhaps it is good that I am pharaoh. I know that you love me, but I have no desire for war. Even so," he said, raising his voice, "I have sent certain persons to correct the problem, and my brother has borne a letter to the Mitanni king, explaining the situation. It is true that this assault on our kingdom cannot be suffered quietly."
The advisors took that in. Duulaman turned to the Priestess of Mut and tried not to squint. She was just far enough away that he had trouble seeing her. Sadly, none of his magic had yet succeeded in giving him the eyes of a hawk, but he yet had hope.
"What say you about the curse?" he asked.
Duulaman was a powerful priest in his own right, favored by the gods and his ancestors, but he valued other opinions. Being the focus of the curse might have blinded him to certain aspects of its function.
The priestess bowed. "It is as we first feared," she said. "It binds your great soul, so that you may not pass into the green fields of the Duat when it is your time to do so. Instead, it decrees that, when you die, you must suffer to be born into a common line, far from your rightfully exalted place."
"And for Kemet? For my line?"
The priestess, an experienced woman who had served Duulaman's father, actually trembled. "That, whence your second life reaches the age of reason, you shall understand, and you shall see the last of the Pharaohs come to ruin, all our temples abandoned save for nonbelievers, your descendants crushed or cast into obscurity, your name stricken from history, and your tomb robbed by foreigners. She dooms you to watch the slow decay."
This was about what Duulaman had expected. He closed his eyes, pained. If only he had been more careful opening the box... but he had assumed it to be from Hotep-Ra, or his brother, or one of his sisters, for it had been among other, like gifts.
"I see. Fear not. I will take care of it. Kemet shall not fall within our lifetimes."
The relief in the room was palpable. They had faith in Duulaman's power.
Alas, that it might come to naught.
.
Tucker woke with a jolt, hand on his heart. He looked around wildly, relaxing when he saw the acid green numbers on his bedside clock. He was here. He was now. He was Tucker.
And it wasn't even time to wake up for school.
Wait. It was Saturday. He wouldn't have to wake up for school anyway.
Alright. So he might have, thousands of years ago, been Duulaman. Fine. He laid back down, breathing through his nose. He dealt with ghosts on a daily basis. He could deal with reincarnation. This was cool. This was fine.
He was definitely having a crisis.
Crap.
He fumbled for his phone, and hit the speed dial for Danny. Danny never slept anyway, it was fine. Besides, stuff like this was why Sam had bought him a phone (a Nokia brick, because ghost fights) in the first place. Dead people were Danny's specialty.
"What's wrong?" asked Danny, far too alert for the small hours of the morning.
"I think I might be Duulaman," said Tucker.
There was a beat of silence. "Yeah?" said Danny, confused.
"Like, I'm a reincarnation of him or something."
"Yeah?" repeated Danny. "I thought that was the whole reason you could use that staff and stuff?"
"Wait," said Tucker. "You mean, you knew all along, and you didn't say anything?"
"I thought you knew and didn't want to talk about it," said Danny. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just having weird Kem- Egypt flashbacks. I'm fine."
"Do you want me to fly over?"
"No," said Tucker. "I just- Am I still me?"
"I mean, you're you to begin with. You are yourself. That's like, definitional."
"Yeah, but..." Tucker gestured at his ceiling with his hand, even though Danny couldn't see it.
Danny chuckled. "You're still you, Tucker. I know Sam and I aren't always super sensitive, but... We do pay attention, you know? We'd know if you were being taken over. Maybe not right away, but..."
"Thanks," said Tucker, with only a little bit of sarcasm.
"Hey, I like to think we've all come a long way since the thing with Poindexter."
"True," said Tucker. "Hey, thanks, man. I'm sorry about waking you up."
"Don't worry," said Danny. "You didn't. I'd just caught Boxy when you called."
"Oh. That's good. Get some sleep, Danny."
"You, too. Tell me what Egypt was like tomorrow, okay?"
"Kemet," corrected Tucker. "And, yeah. Bye."
.
"What are you doing?" demanded Hotep-Ra.
Duulaman turned away from his ritual tools and fixed an un-amused eye on Hotep-Ra. "I may have made it your place to question me," said Duulaman, "but I thought I had made my decision on this matter clear. The method your faction proposed is too uncertain, too risky."
"I have made a mirror," said Hotep-Ra, "one that will recognize your soul in whatever body it should take. With it, we could search all of Kemet for you when you are reborn and then lay you properly to rest, as you deserve, before the curse comes to fruition."
"And if I should be born in lands beyond?"
"Then we should look there, too!"
"Starting all sorts of wars on the way, no doubt. Tell me, brother of my heart, what is the difference between the young man who falls in war, whose body is left for the crows, and the old man who is buried peacefully, and who will find joy in the Duat?"
"The devotion of his family!" responded Hotep-Ra instantly.
Duulaman shook his head sadly and looked back to his tools, touching them softly. He had already completed the ritual that would force the curse to carry his soul thousands of years into the future. By the time his next life reached the age of reason, there would be no pharaohs for the curse to affect. And if there were? Well, it would have been a good long time, and the curse would have weakened significantly. Perhaps even to the point of unraveling.
"No, Hotep-Ra. The difference between a tragedy and a happy ending is time. All kingdoms fall. All civilizations fade."
"Not this one."
"Even this one. The only questions are when and how."
"No," said Hotep-Ra. "No. Never!"
Duulaman felt, rather than heard, the scrape of metal against oiled leather and reached for his staff, which lay across from him, on the other side of his ritual. He was too late. He had trusted Hotep-Ra too much, let him get too close, and he felt the bronze knife slide between his ribs. His eyelids fluttered as his hands groped up his chest.
He was dying.
"I will see you, in the next life," he whispered, blood bubbling in his throat.
And then he was gone.
.
It was bright when Tucker woke again.
He felt... oddly calm. It was nice to know that he had succeeded in out-waiting the fall of Pharaonic Egypt, even though the fact that it was gone made his heart shiver.
Well. He pulled his phone over, and texted Danny. I know what it feels like to die, now, he said. Maybe they'd be able to bond over it. Or Danny would give him some coping pointers, since Tucker was pretty sure he'd have at least one breakdown over this. Either one would be good.
He stood up and walked to the bathroom. His reflection stared back, completely normal. No weird eye shadow, no Egyptian clothes, just Tucker and his pajamas.
Behind it stretched miles and miles of sand.
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