#(y'all think i am kidding but i have already walked the walk ok)

[taegularities]

candles & flames: downpour | jjk (m)

bonus chapter II: downpour

Summary: One knock at your door — that’s all it takes for the clouds to burst. Because when it rains, it pours.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; angst!!, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: ok ok – rain metaphors, mention of a traumatic past, daddy issues?, illegitimate child plot, backstories, mention of mentally abusive relationship, cheating (not between jk and oc), jk kinda a homewrecker, lies, tears, breakdowns, panic, fears, abandonment issues, craving/pining sigh, arguments and fighting, very sweet kids, dad!jk <3; explicit sexual content: oral (m. receiving, super brief f.), fingering, teasing, kissing/making out, manhandling, biting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, soft/hard sex, unprotected sex (shhh, they're married), he spills on her ass, cmnf for a bit, some aftercare; hm… the ending. ➳ wc: 31.8k ➳ a/n: alright. i courageously fought through the pain; not sure how this will go for you. we've waited quite a while for this, and all your support for this series really pushed me to no end <3 i hope this is all you guys expected it to be. take it easy with this one; love y'all sm and as always, let me know what you think 🤍 ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3 and the collaborative playlist here!

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s fall.

Orange-red, beloved, drizzling fall.

And everything falls with its emergence. The leaves, the temperature, the warmth.

You’re bummed, experiencing the prior season coming to an end again; the colours are fading and the flowers disappearing. The trees are empty; pretty but a little eerie, too.

Hana insisted on a stroll since the sun still graced you this noon; by now, it’s gone again, hidden behind grey, monochrome clouds. It looks much later than it already is; great call to march outside since you were still able to pick leftover flowers in the garden with her.

In the middle of the drawing room, Hana leafs through the basket. Jungkook is largely free today, but he’s still busying himself with papers of some guest he’s expecting tomorrow. The man wishes to open a bar in the village and asked for an appointment with the town’s royal to discuss the profitability of the idea.

Jungkook is lost in thoughts, thick eyebrows furrowed, but your eyes are scurrying across the room, settling on your daughter. She’s carefully inspecting each flower, remaining on her favourites a little longer; kneeling with pursed lips.

She resembles her father down to each smileless dimple. She’s staring down, the same shape and arch of her lips, eyes big. Whenever she finds a particularly good flower, she jumps to her little feet, walking up to Jungkook to present her choices for him to admire.

Once she reaches her last favourite, she holds it up to him with a tongue sticking out, proud and childishly joyous as she says, “This is for you.”

“For me?” he drops the papers to the table, mouth open; cautiously takes the daisy between his fingers. “Gorgeous. I thought I was not allowed to have one?”

“You can have this,” she mumbles, lisping here and now, “I have many.”

“Right. Let’s see.” He lays it onto the documents he inspected, stretching out his palms for her. Obliging, she lets him pick her up and place her on his lap, immediately pumped when he asks, “Where did you find it? Want to tell me about it?”

And she does, with sheer enthusiasm so, explaining the spot and the colours vaguely. You know Jungkook still isn’t any smarter, probably not quite remembering where the daisies grow. He prefers the field in the distance over the garden.

Concluding her story, she soon tells him, “Can you keep this? Until I am big like you?”

“Oh…” You tilt your head. Your cheeks are hot like the summer that passed, watching him blush, melting with her in his arms. “Of course! Do you want to tell me why I am getting this one?”

“It’s pretty.”

“Ah. Like you then. You’re pretty.”

And Hana, aware and oh-so-humble, responds with her eyes on her fingers, nodding, “Yes.”

They do this sometimes. Exchange pretty things. She enjoys sharing her food or her collections with him, stuff she loves. She’s learned to show affection like this; makes him and you a part of herself this way. It’s a slightly different dynamic with the others in the room, though.

Because the moment her tremendous eyes look up, they darken a shade, displeased with the little body crawling to her basket, close to reaching in. Hana wriggles and jumps off Jungkook’s lap, her voice high-pitched when she starts whining, “Nooo! Not you!”

Right. There’s that, too.

The miniscule hand almost knocking over the basket, the same eyes as his sister’s, but the expressions a lot closer to yours. The surprise in his gaze is similar to the one you see right behind him, belonging to the partner in crime.

You rush to lift the near-accomplice before Hana can reprimand them both. And he looks just like you when he stares at you in shock, not minding the warmth, hands close to his body before they settle right on your clavicles.

He averts his gaze, following the drama on the ground. And the other twin, the one he’d been hurrying to, looks like your occasionally whining self, too, when Hana reaches him.

Jungkook might have enjoyed a copy of himself in her for years now, but you got two boys with your features instead. They clutch at you at all times, much as Hana sticks to her father.

Jaehoon, clever and thoughtful, secure in your arms, and then Jaehyuk, usually radiant, on the floor. Only right now, he isn’t as cheerful anymore.

Rather devastated, startled as Hana opens the small fist crushing a flower. He ogles around with wide eyes, already breathing towards crying, and then, finally — juts out his lower lip. Seeks your attention; and when he catches your tilted, worried look, he starts weeping.

As if your presence permitted his breakdown. You sigh.

His fist is closed tight, but when Hana sharply orders again, “Let go!”, he does, scrabbling away from her. She collects her possessions with a grunt; you inch closer to her the same moment Jungkook rises from his seat on the diwan.

Lifting the crying Jaehyuk in his arms, he plants a soft kiss onto the child’s temple, shushing him with a gentle, “It is alright. Look, nothing happened.”

But Jaehyuk still buries his face in Jungkook’s chest, crying harder, actual tears this time around. Jungkook squats down to Hana with a scolding look in his eyes, one eyebrow cocked as he explains, “Suhana, it is good to share.”

She doesn’t quite look at him; throws the remainders of the demolished flower into the basket, grazing the petals. Sulking, she defends, “But he destroyed them.”

“He is little. You did this as well when you were small.”

Hana shakes her head, convinced, “I do not think that I did.”

“Ah… really?”

“I don’t destroy pretty things!”

Jungkook mimics your sigh, kneeling down, and you shift your eyes for just a moment to check on the baby in your arms. He’s the calmest in the room, observing the rest of his family with curiosity. You smile a little; he’s beautiful, so innocent, so clueless.

So empathetic.

Worried when he sees his brother still crying, not imitating his sobs, but pointing to his other half before he looks at you as if you understood. Awaiting your answer.

You did understand, actually; you often do. So you nod, telling him, “I know. Jaehyuk is a little sad.”

Jaehoon points again, and then suddenly leans forwards. You hold him tight, walking closer to the rest, and he relaxes. Happy you obliged, a finger in his mouth. You set him on the ground when Jungkook does the same with Jaehyuk, listening in as your husband tries again—

“Look. You gave me a nice flower, so give him one, too. He’s your brother, right?”

Hana hesitates. Then, “Yes.”

“Don’t you love him, too?” You hum at his words, enforcing the message. “You should give nice things to people you love.”

“Yes. But he is annoying…”

She grants her siblings a look, a little calmer when Jaehyuk sniffles. Jaehoon shifts closer to his disheartened brother, touching his hand, knees close. They can finally sit on their own now, and they use the ability to keep themselves glued to the other.

A second passes before Hana adds, “Alright, he should have one. He is too small to get his own.”

You agree, “That’s right.”

Holding two different flowers towards the now far calmer Jaehyuk — Jaehoon’s presence seems to help — she inquires, “Good, which one do you like better?”

Her voice is authoritative, the classic older sister. It affects the twins for just a moment as they blink at her; but then, Jaehyuk regards the choices presented to him — though his eyes settle on the marigold quickly.

Opting to grab it, he hits the void when Hana pulls back, shaking her head. You’re about to nag again, seated on the ground next to Jungkook, much like royals should as your sister would jest, but then hold back when Hana speaks again.

“No. Grab it from here, yes?” She hands him the stem, and he listens, takes it as carefully as a baby can. “Yes, like this.”

And then he’s raising it to his cheek, fascinated by it, touching the petals after all. Jaehoon watches quietly before his beseeching eyes drift to his sister. His plea is soundless, but she understands; says, “You can have this, Jaehoonie.”

The daisy he receives is from the same spot she plucked Jungkook’s from. Pretty things for her pretty brother. He’s not sure what to do with it, though, but he imitates the way Jaehyuk plays with it so tenderly, more than happy to accept.

You catch the smile spreading on Hana’s countenance, balanced out by her sassy little, “But you have to work for more. These are mine.”

You laugh, content, “This is good enough.” You reach out to her cheek, caressing for a moment. “Be nice to each other. They love you a lot.”

She only nods, yet baffled when Jaehoon suddenly opts for her, climbing half onto her lap. She gives in, though she can barely properly hold them yet; so she reshifts him as well as she can, placing him in front of her, between her legs.

Like this, they look through the basket; he’s kind and soft, so he doesn’t do much anyway. Just stares while Jaehyuk busies himself with the flower until he gets bored and targets the toy he abandoned minutes ago.

They’re cooing and conversing, Hana speaking, Jaehoon incoherently babbling. You’ve heard this is good, talking to your kids; apparently, they’re vocal much more later on.

But the room is filled with noises and a stack of papers, so you turn to Jungkook and suggest, “I can take them somewhere else. You’re working, so I reckoned…”

“It’s alright,” he, however, assures, “I am already done. This is rewarding, actually.”

“Isn’t it tiring?” You regard the scattered children, full of love for them, but brimming with fatigue, too. “I am so… exhausted.”

“I know. I understand that you are,” he says, grasping your hand, knuckles to his lips, “which is probably why I should stay, too.”

He gets it. You know he truly does, never just says it.

Ever since the birth of your twins, stress, anxiety and restless nights came together to an undesired mix. Barely sleeping makes you prone to headaches and mood swings; one child was already difficult to manage, but three…

You haven’t rested in years. Your skin and your eyes have changed. More tired, more sensitive, your heart a little more feeble.

And the birth wasn’t easy, either. You lost a ton of blood again, another source of Jungkook’s resurfaced panic; but this time because there were two kids at once. You feel grateful, you do — but the days and weeks after they were born were hell on Earth.

You didn’t quite feel like yourself for so long.

But their warmth and Jungkook helped. Honestly, you can’t anyhow fabricate a world without him and his support even just in theory. And beware, such love isn’t given; you’ve seen friends and relatives wade through terrible experiences.

Jungkook is a man they don’t place in every corner of the world, so you’re thankful beyond imagination.

Because you survived due to him. You live because of the humble personalities in this brightly lit room, dimmed only by the grey afternoon sky. It’s a cruel world at times; some pasts are an accumulation of everything bad. Jungkook’s more than anyone’s you know.

Looking at him now, you can hardly believe he was once the sad boy stranded in the rain.

That crying, sobbing mess, freezing, seeking peace when he was inundated by misery. But…

Things came together well, right? The world is less terrifying like this.

You guess the warmth might fall outside all the time, but it never does in these rooms.

“And?”

The answer echoes less than it did a moment ago. The peeking head is retracting just slowly, still frozen between the open door and its frame. You don’t think his eyes are spying much of concern, and he confirms it when he shakes his head, responds—

“Nothing.”

“This should be good enough then.”

“Hm, yes. I don’t know. It took hours last time, as well.”

Without a piece of context, it’s a hilarious picture. Somehow, it even is with context; so you can’t help the quiet chuckle, silencing quickly to avoid waking up the tiny bundle slumbering in your arms.

You reprimand your husband, “But you can’t keep standing there for hours.”

The sigh you receive is deep and long. You understand his worries.

It hasn’t been long anyway — the night transpired just a while ago. Still in the back of your mind since Hana waddled to your room, knocking with the might that her fist could possibly conjure; you barely heard it, but you did.

You have been a light sleeper since she was born, so you were shaken awake rather fast. You welcomed her in with softness, veiling the horror in your voice. You were devastated when you saw her feet bare, standing in the dark hallway.

Luckily, the moment turned out not quite frightening — she couldn’t sleep. That was it. So you pulled her into your arms and off the ground, stroking her back and her head, planting kisses in her hair.

It took a while to lull her to sleep; to be certain, you kept her right next to you for the remainder of the nightly hours, even though her room was next door. She’d mumbled something about a poor bird, and you’d understand only minutes after her silence that she had seen a dead pigeon in the garden that day.

The nightmare this scene called forth prevented her from sleeping comfortably in her chamber for some days to come.

Jungkook had come to bed late that time, so he was long knocked out when Hana came. The regret doubled the next morning when you told him about the occurrence, and Jungkook blamed himself for the coming hours — only, the guilt extended. Still prominent.

Because he’s still glancing out, fearing she’ll come and knock again; fearing it might go unnoticed once more.

“I would hear it,” you reassure, “I always will.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I will,” you try again; you keep your voice low, soft, understanding his string of thoughts. But you miss him next to you, and you want the door to close. You insist, “I will, love. Don’t blame yourself for not hearing it, yes? You were tired.”

Jaehoon moves in your arms, a small fist loosening. He’s fast asleep, but you still wait before you speak again, assuring that he won’t wake up again. Jungkook must be thinking the same, because only once you sigh a breath of relief, he says, “You are tired, too. Don’t undermine your importance here—”

“Just come to bed, darling.”

Interrupted, his lips morph into a pout, round eyes regarding you for a moment. But it seems you render him at least a little delicate, aware of your effect on him, tilting your head by a few degrees. Your smile must be jarring; because the second you flash it, he gives in.

The door shuts behind him, and he offers an upward twitch of his mouth in response before he asks, “Would you reckon she’s too young to have her own room?”

“Perhaps… I don’t always feel very comfortable with her absence at night either. We have gotten too used to her, haven’t we?” You shake your head as he steps towards your side of the bed. “But she wanted this so bad.”

“Hmm… good thing she spends half of all her nights here anyway.”

“True. She got too used to us, as well,” you say before sitting up, eliciting a brief groan as you prepare yourself to put Jaehoon back in his crib. You can barely stand up; your body is exhausted, begs to stay in the resting state for now. “Alright then…”

But by then Jungkook’s helping hands are already reaching out, his back arching, bowing forwards. Carefully, sweetly, he mutters a little, “No, let me—” before he’s sheltering his son in his hold, slow and gentle as he tackles the task for you.

For a minute, he remains there, standing over the crib, gazing at the babies so peacefully dreaming away. He does this sometimes — lose himself in the sight. This is a fairytale for him. When he read all those books on parenting years ago, he didn’t think it’d come this easily to him.

Not that parenting has ever been particularly easy. Tears and arguments were frequent at points in time, but so were sacrifices and compromises. You knew what such a change did to a vulnerable heart and mind, so you fought through the difficulties with courage.

And it was worth it every single time. All in all, you don’t regret a thing; you’d repeat it all if you could. Jungkook is your dream; this life is your dream.

Never ceased to be.

Even now, as he returns to the bed and jumps under the blanket, you register an odd, sparkly feeling in your tummy. It always existed underneath, never diminished or decreased. Ever-so-present, you still cherish its intensity, even after all these years. Or perhaps because of the time that has passed.

Such passion isn’t a matter of fact. You know it isn’t.

Triggered by the funny, pleasant feeling in your body, your smile grows a little. Softer and more loving when he kisses your shoulder as if to greet you. Proceeds to place his head on your chest as his arms snake around your body, settling in his very own safe space.

“Are you feeling well?” his drowsy voice questions, just a little muffled as the lips graze your gown’s cotton.

“I am. You?”

“Just cold. I need a bit more of this,” he cuddles in, kissing underneath your breasts, right above your ribs. “It has been raining so much.”

“It has been indeed.”

“But,” he shifts, closer to you, “I’ve learned to appreciate it now.”

You chuckle. Time steadily passes, but some memories stay right at their assigned spots, like an immovable anchor. You’re proud, having replaced his terrifying images of nature’s showers with fond ones. And ever since, the rain has felt closer to you, too.

“That is something, then,” you say, “I’m just sad for the kids… they can’t stay out too long without feeling under the weather. If I could, I’d show them the sky all the time, too.”

“And how we’re connected to it?”

You laugh again; you wonder if he’s feeling warmer now. You’re inundated with the heat, at least. “Yes, this.”

His grip tightens just a little, a fragile attempt to draw you deeper into him. This is all the laws of physics allow — no gap left for him to close. Yet, he tries. His kiss wanders up as he raises his head, lips missing your clavicles by a bit; thumb stroking the side of your mounds.

“Love,” he calls quietly; when your eyes move to his, you see a change in them. They’re fog-shrouded and somehow questioning. “Do you feel tired?”

You’re surprised; you expected something else. The question doesn’t match his expression.

For a moment, you assume that your answer might serve a bigger purpose, so you weigh it back and forth before you decide on a straightforward, “Less than usual. It’s been so long since we fell asleep together.”

Maybe that’s what’s keeping you awake. Maybe that’s what he wants to hear.

Because he nods fervently against your breasts, cheek pressing against them, and agrees, “It has been. Yet, do you know it has been only three days in reality?”

Oh. Dang. You guess there is no true limit to your mutual obsession. You shrug, “Feels much longer.”

“Well, in that sense…” Warm digits touch your arm, circling your elbow and then travelling up your skin. “There is one good thing about Hana sleeping in the other room, yes? We’re alone for once.”

“Unless she once again catches us in the middle of—”

“Don’t remind me.”

You giggle, but the sound dies when he pushes his palm under your short gown sleeve, caressing your shoulder and then the lower part of your neck. Angling your head, you close your eyes, somehow spitting, “Are you planning something, Sir?”

His leg moves further over your own; there’s a growing firmness between them that you can’t ignore. He teases, “Sir? Now, that is new.”

“Mmh, do you like it?”

“Admittedly, it is somewhat odd, but… it’s still something.”

“Then, what is going on now?”

“Well, it’s… very boring to talk about it. Lemme just—”

The palm covering your tits is sudden, but the mouth exploring them isn’t. You felt the touch from miles away, satisfied and alight when his teeth graze over your perked nipple. His hand, restless, works on pushing down your nightgown to bare one side, and he’s…

Impatient, as you’ve known.

His tongue is hot and soft, the tip of it merely teasingly brushing over the freed nipple as his hand pushes your tit up, further into his face and towards his mouth. You sigh. He sets fire to your nerves; you feel each of the licks affecting your body.

Then, amidst the comfortable, sweet journey, he suddenly bites.

You gasp, followed by a tiny exclaim of an, “Ouch,” and work on playfully escaping his advances — to no avail. He laughs against your bud, his hands stronger than your dishonest attempt as they pin your arms to the mattress.

His eyes are evil, an eyebrow cocked, lips parted as he breathes, “What?”

“You’re about to lose it again. I can see it!”

“Ah… do you— do you not want me to?” He’s still in a daze, his words mumbled. He moves back just a little, wondering if you’re not quite where he is tonight. But you shake your head the moment he suggests, “I’ll hold myself back if I need t—”

“Oh, can you?”

You’re smiling, so he’s quickly encouraged to offer a grin of his own; honestly admits, “No… but I will for you.”

“You will for me?” The everlasting beam on your face is inevitable; how could you keep your cool, pretend you’re not thoroughly warmed when he says things like these? “While I appreciate how thoughtful you are… I’m not a fool.”

Not a fool. I won’t decline.

“Then… May I kiss you?”

“You’re asking so politely, how could I—”

There’s no time to reject, even if you wanted to. His kiss is abrupt and hard, though his lips still refrain from any aggression just yet. He lifts his hands from next to your head to above it, dragging your captive arms with them.

As his head tilts, deeper in the kiss, his tongue mingles with yours with a tempting hum so unique to his voice — as if he’s tasting a delicatesse. Your mouths are in main action, but both your bodies are reacting in their entirety, too.

In constant motion, winding, closing in.

His upper body urges you down until you’re flat on your back; the nightgown settles back over your tits again as you move, but he grabs your flesh above the clothing, kneading. Clumsily, with his eyes still shut, he attempts to unlace the front of your gown.

You wait for his intention to manifest into reality, readily letting his palm brush over your hot skin, your neck, your jaw. But once he opts to undress you fully, your patience dwindles, and you let him know, “I don’t want to wait this time.”

“Ah, alright, alright… This is how we’re doing things tonight?”

Your poor dress will be wrinkled up by the morning; you know by the way he’s hiking it up your leg this time, stopping at your waist, force of habit. There’s a satisfying, delighted smile on his face, mixing with a pleased sound when he discovers you’re bare underneath the gown—

And it seems it motivates him more rapidly to tug at his own trousers. You nod as if to encourage him further, hands seeking out the hem of his pyjamas. But you’re as useless from this angle as can be.

So he sits upright, slipping out of it, pushing it down his thighs until it’s wrapped around his knees. He’s no better, really; just as naked, just as uncovered underneath the trousers, as if the two of you planned this, or hoped for this.

Kneeling, he pushes your legs apart, spreading until your flexibility stops. He settles between them properly, leaning down, and uses the position to kick off the rest of his disruptive trousers. The length of his cock, as unbelievable as ever and quickly hardening, presses against your damp cunt — bliss for the moment, but torture for the next.

The way his cock dips between your folds and rubs along your pussy’s growing dampness feels almost deliberate. As if he’s tormenting you, demonstrating his power over you, stiff past your hole and up your tiny clit without ever diving in.

But you won’t lie — you could probably come from this alone. It’s embarrassing, being so weak in his presence. And the filthy sounds, wet and inappropriate, don’t help a bit.

So you’re not sure whether you’re relieved or agitated when the touch finally vanishes but his mischievous smile doesn’t. It’s somewhat weak, hindered by the lust clouding his brain, but it’s insane and misbehaved either way.

He’ll kill you one day; or you might kill him. You don’t know who might end up asserting the more hazardous dominance.

For now, it’s you who’s surrendering. How could you not, considering he’s conjuring his own battle plan right above you, hand reaching between his and your legs and underneath the blanket to—

Damn the tip of the digits against your clenching cunt. He’s not even inside, but you react immediately. Know to bite your lower lip when he circles your clit a little, the position and the spread legs keeping you from shutting your thighs.

Your head falls to the side; Jungkook considers it an opportunity. He plays around your nub further, testing the waters, and when you moan out, he closes the gap between the two of you, latching onto your neck to suck and kiss and bite.

“Fuck,” you curse, incessantly hoping the kids are deeply asleep and won’t have to witness their mother’s foul language this early on. “Fuck, start already—”

He knows you aren’t talking about his fingers; they’re already in action, tapping your clit, drawing over it. Then moving down, slipping along your wetness, already drenched when he decides to ram a finger in.

Yet, he understands you’re still referring to the member standing tall, anticipating and urging for you but holding back either way. No, instead he chooses to drive you crazy first, using a free hand to grab your chin and turn your head back to him, going for another messy kiss.

And you can’t do more than give yourself to him so willingly, wincing and whimpering as he finger-fucks you as well as the position allows. It’s not ideal like this, and to your chagrin, he can’t use his skills fully, but the fact that he can turn your thoughts this incoherent speaks volumes already.

You can’t wait… can’t wait for him to bury himself in you.

Half hovering over you, he soon loses the strength to keep himself afloat, dipping and retracting his fingers to lead his cock there instead; still, once again, without fucking you dumb yet. You’re drifting, but still too sane for your liking.

Your wetness helps him toy with you some more; he keeps pumping with his hand as he humps you once, twice, and you mutter his name and a couple mumbled pleas — but he remains as wicked as ever.

But when the dam breaks and your mind explodes, you exclaim his name again in pure desperation, half your brain gone when he pushes just his tip inside you and continues jerking off to make himself as hard as he can.

Eventually, you demand, “Put it in!”

The shake of his head is vile. Your eyebrows furrow at the man, and you try to grind up into him — he doesn’t let you. Only the head remains inside you, and he keeps doing his thing, not leading it in or out, just drenching himself.

You reprimand, “You’re being impossible tonight.”

“Aren’t I?” he responds, like a naughty child who’s caught and proud of its sins. He presses another peck to your lips, his words breathy when he reveals his true thoughts, “No, sweetheart, it is just that— you aren’t ready. That’s it.”

You aren’t ready? You feel like you’re overflowing. But you understand; there’s no room for impatience after all. It’s happened before — him pushing in, only to realise it was too early, that it pained you instead of pleasuring you.

“Well…” you start, dumbfounded. He noticed and you didn���t — the ultimate proof that he knows you inside out. “You could’ve said this earlier. Put it in my mouth then.”

“Huh?”

“Right now. This will help, too.”

“Oh… yes? I— I won’t reject the offer.”

Of course he won’t. In fact, he climbs up the bed quickly, lifting, caging your body between his knees. The sight is incredible; thighs as wide as your face, muscular. You hold onto them, bask in the sight of the dangling package, harder by the moment.

With effort, he says, “Just for a second.” The tip taps against your mouth, hot as he pushes it inside. Thick and heavy on your tongue, his cock twitches, affected by the swirl of the wet muscle and the hollowing of your cheeks. “Yes… not long, no—”

He must be talking to himself. Keeping himself from thrusting and fucking your mouth all the way to the end. And when you bop your head up and down, lightly touching his balls and the parts of the length you can’t swallow, he restates, “I really do not want to wait.”

You let go for a moment with a slurping sound, agreeing, “Fine by me,” before you come back to go in harder. Giving him all you can, crossing your legs, seeking reprieve.

And you think you’d quickly overflow, by virtue of his enticing reactions, if the moment wasn’t so short lived.

Because it seems he reaches a limit when your drool starts flowing down the side of your face, nasty and warm, your throat still working full time on not gagging. On staying quiet. It’s become a task by now.

And for the first time tonight, Jungkook doesn’t serve the devil, but pulls back.

While it’s a pity — why didn’t he finish in your mouth? — you won’t deny your selfish part. The one that craves and awaits, glad when his body disappears beneath the sheets again, his head with it.

What—

Won’t he start? You didn’t expect him to fall out of your sight entirely. And there’s not much guessing needed until you understand that he’s aiming for his favourite spot, his tongue lapping up your juices a moment later.

He kisses your cunt just once, slides a stripe between your folds, and you’re certain his goal is much more profound. Normally, you’d be fully down for this, but you’ve reached a limit you can’t bear anymore.

So you whisper, “You don’t need to.”

He doesn’t register it right away, spitting and feasting further; more kisses, more tongue, untamed until you grip his hair and raise his head off of you. He obliges surprisingly easily when you pull him back to your lips, reiterating, “I don’t want to fucking wait. Just…”

“I know,” he says, peck after peck, in between each word, “I know. I have had enough, too, I have—”

His arm steals your breath when he twines it around your body like a vine, arching your back, lifting you by mere inches. Both his hands are busy; caressing your sides or your face; he’s confident about the touch, about the eagerness the two of you harbour for each other.

Which is why he doesn’t even guide his length towards your pleading heat anymore, gliding up and down; hard enough to stand tall against it, poking as if knocking. The thought makes you laugh for only a moment before your lungs suddenly empty—

Part of his cock slips in effortlessly; there’s no resistance, no struggle, no need to glance down and complicate matters. You welcome him easily; match his smirk, proud and unsurprised about your keen craze when he says, “Wasn’t supposed to happen already. I wanted another moment to—”

You vigorously shake your head. “Too late. Too damn late—”

The last word comes out strained as your body comes in motion, moving against him. And he matches your pace and fervour, shoving himself in harder. Unable to resist anymore, all the teasing vanishes along with his patience.

Instead, he bottoms out at once, and you yelp, an unintentional volume that he immediately shuts with a hand over your mouth and a chuckle. Jungkook enjoys playing the beast when he’s with you like this, but he can’t suppress his amusement when he shushes you.

“Are y-you trying to wake the mansion, huh?”

But his words are nothing but a breath, airy and quiet. Such a whistling whisper that it, much as your noise, might just be enough to wake everybody, too. The irony is comical.

You shake your head and his hand with it, relying on your nose to breathe the oxygen still left in the room. Your neck feels hot, your face and body burning up. Not quite sure whether it’s the way he’s handling you or whether your leg is actually trembling like this.

His strokes, slowly starting, shake up your body at least. The friction drives you insane; his length, reaching a mind-boggling depth, renders you so stupid each time. Thick against your walls, leaving no gap, no spot untouched. 

You’re boiling under his hand, somehow glad about the muffled sound. Because if he didn’t silence you like this, you’d be wreaking havoc right here, an unbridled mess wrapped in your husband’s body.

They say love and passion fade sometimes; that affection lessens when you get used to it, bored of it. But the two of you haven’t reached that stage yet — you doubt you ever will.

Because the flames that have surrounded you ever since you fell into these depths for the other… they don’t ever seem to dim. Who would’ve thought that a candle could turn into an inferno?

No, your body signals more than enough; this isn’t boredom. This isn’t a reduction in adoration. You feel the devouring and the worship in each thrust and touch and kiss and gaze.

In each curse and movement, how he shifts you and you wind. Dancing in the sheets and shivering under the goosebumps as he hears your stifled moans drowned out by his palm. If he could, he’d listen all day; if the circumstances allowed…

He rams into you hard but slowly and only raises the pace gradually; once he’s gotten used to the effect, however, and seeks to possess you more, he sends your body up the sheets. Each time, over and over again, restraint thrown overboard.

You mewl with a raised head and tightly shut eyes; his hand drops just a little, and you, in your misty moment, dig your teeth into the finger still covering your lower lip. The sound he lets out suggests pain here, but then again… lust there.

His voice is feathery, mellow; as if he’s softly charmed, seduced rather than achingly bitten.

Lips apart and eyes hooded, he relocates his hand just a little, twisting it until the thumb grazes your chin, hand laying on your cheek as the forefinger dips into your mouth. It’s difficult to focus; what does he look at?

The way his digit is gently trapped between your teeth, the tip of it teased by your tongue? The arch of your mouth and how his finger presses against the lower lip? Or the heat that grows under his palm, the rise of your chin, the eyes rolling back before shutting?

A feral urge expands in him, growing like a well-watered seed; he doesn’t know how you do it, but you encapsulate all his beginnings and ends in a moment, now and always.

Your hair is a mess by the time he removes his other hand from it, not quite sure when he grabbed a patch at all. He pins one of your legs to the side, angling it, and you breathe unsteadily, mumbling a tiny, “Oh— Kook—”

“Yes.”

It’s not quite a dialogue, but neither of you cares for it. There isn’t much to say at all. And neither any calls of his or your name, nor his quiet, “I love you so much,” do the emotion bubbling in his stomach justice.

In all honesty, he could explode just looking at you. You’re a wonder of nature, aren’t you? You pump relief and craze and comfort and insanity into him, one after another and all at once.

“Baby,” you call out the moment his teeth drag your damn gown down your tits again, kissing them, nibbling at your nipple. “I think I might already— soon…”

You don’t know whether it’s because it’s been so long, or because Jungkook knows just well how to fuck you right, but you’re nearly bursting. Or is it the mental picture of the movements he’s granting you?

Elegant yet beastly thrusts, hips and ass and upper body swaying up and down steadily; slow, then fast, then soft, then hard… rhythmic and then stuttering—

He wipes the hair off your forehead, and then whispers warm and close to your ear, “Hey, do you… know how obsessed I am with you?” A peck to your earlobe, and you wind, ticklish and pleased. He shifts to your lips, the kiss an inch away. “You—you’re all I’ll ever need.”

You can’t serve as much of a smooth and rational answer as him, but you still tell him all lost, “Then— be with me… me, always, yes?”

He chuckles; you’re not sure why. Perhaps this is such a matter-of-fact for him that he doesn’t need it spelled out. “Yes… yes. What else? Where else would I go?”

Away from you — even for a moment, even just a bit. Right now, you can’t bear the thought of a hint of a distance between the two of you. You want him close, closer, part of your heart, thawing with you in cool falls and cold winters.

“You’re pretty,” he then proceeds, tugging at your lip, “don’t know where to touch you. So pretty.”

“Everywhere. Just don’t stop— touching me,” you begin, every now and then interrupted by an exhausted kiss, “at all.”

“Right.” And still, he backs away out of the blue, all touch gone except the gentle rub along your hip, and you stare up at him with big eyes, body so empty before he orders, “Turn around.” He’s acting tough, but you see the madness in his eyes the moment he says it. “Quickly.”

Quickly.

You know what he’s thinking without him vocalising any of it. Know what he’ll do before he does it.

With quivering limbs, you oblige, helped by his hands as he hauls the gown easily over your body, crumpling it up and placing it next to the pillow. Within a moment, you’re bare, head to toe.

He keeps you on your knees, reluctant to wait a second before he enters you again. His hand lands on your ass, pulling apart to see better, and once all in, he starts moving again.

You don’t need to glance back to know that the muscles of his back and his ass are flexing, tanned and golden. The veins of his arms are probably protruding, his abs and chest damp, latter heaving. You know he probably resembles some textbook God, and maybe that’s what topples you over the edge.

That and… the hand on your clit.

Softly circling, the nub immensely sensitive, limbs buckling and weak. You require all your might to not fall and close your legs and sob.

But the tears are inescapable; one or two tip over your waterline when you finally come to an end. His prior teasing and the anticipation already drove you too close to the peak, and it seems that now you’re surrendering eventually.

You shake, your arms more so than the rest of your body. Wobbly, you try to keep yourself upright, but as the blur covers your vision and the waves crash over your pelvis and stomach, you let your cheek fall to the pillow. Hands clutch the sheets.

The tremor is out of control.

And you’re still riding out that high, aided by his continuing shoves and hammering. He’s generous when he pushes you all the way down, a hand on the small of your back as he says, “Take your time— I’m almost there, fu—”

Take your time with what? You don’t know; the chances are high he doesn’t either. Or is he talking to himself again?

To no avail, though, because he’s manic, uncurbed. Your cheek digs into the pillow, the bed moving more than it has during these moments lately. He’s chasing ecstasy, calling your name and little words, such as, “Love, sweetheart, darling,” over and over again like it’s his sole vocabulary.

His lips move over your shoulder and to your back, featherlight as opposed to how he’s fucking you. The care with which he kisses your skin leaves you gasping, affects you whole, and you feel the shiver down your spine, along your arms.

You want to stay awake all night. Want this to keep going.

Funny, how this very thought is followed by a question you neither expect nor grasp, “Have I… kissed you too much already? Are you sick of it?”

You think your eyebrows furrow, or perhaps you imagine it, because there is no way your facial muscles still have that much energy left. But he must be out of his mind, daring such questions. Is there such a thing as getting sick of him?

“Why—”

This man never lets you finish. There is an art to interrupting without irritating, and he’s mastered it — because you can barely complain when his hand wraps around your neck, cautiously lifting and turning your head to make out with you again.

The tongue sneaks into your mouth right away; the kiss is barely a kiss, too filthy and chaotic to be called such. Rather, you’re eating each other up, mixing your moans, crazed by his drilling until his breaths turn laboured and his sounds hoarse.

They come straight out of his throat, sweet in your ears. And before you know it, he’s getting to his knees and rapidly pulling out; you feel vulnerable and tender, thoroughly worn out. The heat is blistering and your mind gone — but you still notice the ropes landing on your ass.

Sticky and hot and plenty. Scattered over your flesh; you contribute some, too, moving your ass left and right just a little, and it seems he’s enjoying it. Groans as he pumps on; when you look back at him, eyes halfway closed, you give him the rest.

And a couple seconds later, tongue poking the corner of his lips, he’s done.

Panting, whispering something you can’t understand, weak… but done. Close to falling onto you until he realises he probably shouldn’t.

Instead, he lays down next to you. Your eyes are closed, but you immediately feel a loving brush over your cheek, ridding it of the strands sticking to your face.

You shake your head — or at least, you think you do. It’s probably more of an attempt, just a slight movement before you playfully scold, “Great… what do we do about this now?”

Jungkook swallows, calming down as he responds, “Over there— there’s a jug of water on the table still.”

“…And?”

“I will go and find a cloth?”

The careful question in his tone is so sweet. You’re not sure if he intended to stain your skin like this before the lust took over him. What a fool for you. Enough to barely ever think of the consequences, be they big or small.

In this sense, you could say that falling for you happened without a single thought for him, too, didn’t it?

He was chasing a different plan. Didn’t fathom that he was losing himself in you. And when he did, he didn’t consider the aftereffects and the risks of what his uncle had come up with; Jungkook didn’t care much about anything at all but being with you.

He’s told you many times.

Back when you hid in that room, or touched in the carriage — in those fleeting moments, the future didn’t consist of what his relatives needed, but of what he could give to you. Who he could be to you.

In hindsight, he was so in love with you. Looking at your relationship, you can’t compare the affection you started out with for each other with the overload of passion now, but… goddamn, he was so in love with you. You know.

And the truth is that no matter what obstacles life may place on your road ahead, neither of you will love the other less than the minute before.

You laugh when you meet his big, brown eyes, asking, “Is there any cloth in this room?”

“I… I think I brought one before. Should be on the table…”

“Might be good enough.”

“Or I can get one from the kitchen.”

You scoff. “You want to sneak around the mansion now? Really?” You lift your upper body, balancing it on your arms, catching him as he licks his lips at the sight of your bouncing tits. You nod towards the table. “That will do. Go and free me from your stuff.”

“Tsk. Good.”

You were right; his idea sufficed. And the kids are still asleep — a double win for you. In theory, you’re ready to crash for the night, succumbing to fatigue. But the truth is that only your body feels spent; your brain doesn’t just yet.

So as Jungkook wipes over the flesh of your ass, you confess, “I’m still not tired enough.”

“Mmmh, me neither.”

“…So what now?”

He falls back to his side with another grunt, throwing the dirty cloth to the floor. You reach out, grazing his chest, playing with the cotton he’s still sporting. He probably knows what you’re hinting at, despite being already battered, but he ignores your advances just to—

“Mh-mh,” he rejects, “I want to talk. I just… I need to hear your voice for a bit.” He stops the finger on his chest, raising your hand to his lips, and kisses each knuckle. Dramatically, he adds, “What would I do without your voice?”

You ponder. Then jest, “Still hear it in your mind somewhere.”

“Yes, very true. I still always do in the office.”

You laugh, so gripped by the emotions stuck to your heart. “So, what would you like me to say?” He shrugs, an indicator for, “Anything.” So you ask, “Would you like me to tell you a story?”

“Yes… story. Yes, tell me one.”

“I can think of one right away. Sort of a lullaby.”

“So it’s got to be a good one,” he says as he covers you with the thick blanket. An arm over you pulls you closer to him. “Right?”

Your eyes drift to the window. You’re lucky, sleeping in a bedroom with a view. Jungkook’s office has one, too, but Hana’s room, while next door, doesn’t. You’re at the far end of the corridor and this mansion’s wing, risking much, so exposed.

Perhaps you’ll move your room to a safer place in the mansion soon. But for now, you’re grateful for the sky, the stars, the moon. The pouring cloudburst.

Jungkook might have caught your distraction; because he wraps one of your hair strands around his finger, inquiring, “May I guess?… Is it a story about the fall and the rain?”

Your lips twitch upward to a smile. Flooded by past pictures, you refuse to end the night, preparing for a concluding tale as you say—

“How did you know?”

When it knocks at your chamber door the next sunrise, you could swear you haven’t slept more than a handful of hours. The exhaustion weighs on your eyes and muscles, body limp as you stir awake. Your voice is still hoarse.

So you’re startled.

Not just because it’s early or because of the interrupted, peaceful slumber; and not just because there’s a knock at the grand, adorned door, either. In reality, it occurs regularly — for Jungkook and his work, or to remind you of your children’s riding and violin lessons, or to inform you of the arrival of guests.

This time it’s the latter. Yet, you’re alarmed, not even because of the guest, but because it’s Sunday, and you don’t usually expect a visitor on Sundays — unless, perhaps, something is transpiring down in the village that needs your urgent assistance.

But — these things are rare. People here regard it as their rest day, too. It’s why you wake up drowsy and confused, ready to sleep the fatigue off and hoping it’s nothing too grave. Squinting an eye shut, you glance at the longcase clock in the corner of your room.

Seven in the morning.

You register a mumble of a voice next to you, low and gravelly, welcoming the staff inside who, a second later, informs, “Visitor for you, Lord Jeon.”

Jungkook sighs. A hand emerges from under the heavy, floral blanket, rubbing his tired, puffy eyes. He hums in gratitude, telling the informant he’d be downstairs in a minute; and when the young man has stepped away, Jungkook half turns to you.

His voice is still husky and half asleep when he gently wipes a strand behind your ear and says, “Go back to sleep. Might be Byun for the boxing ring. I should be back in a little.”

You only nod, moving his cradling hand with it. You can barely speak, fighting the urge to yawn. Frankly, you wouldn’t know what you’d be uttering anyway, though your mind is still present enough to understand that he’s kissing your knuckles and then leaving his side empty.

Falling back into the mattress, you once again hope for a speedy get-together on the floor down below; but when you awake again, the clock indicates the passing of over a full hour. The bed is still half vacant.

You wonder what’s going on, gradually cracking your eyes open to the ceiling until your brain fathoms well enough that a meeting this early shouldn’t take so long, and that anyway, there’s no reason for a business visitor to come by this soon into the day.

So you clear your throat, sitting up at the edge of the bed. You wrap yourself in your gown and your silk coat, arms folded as if to protect yourself. It’s just cold; a chill autumn day.

And as you walk down the staircase, you hear faint chattering from the main hall, like a tiny whisper from here. There’s only some staff in the welcoming hallway, but they’re guarding the parlour. That’s where the voices are coming from.

Nobody hinders you from entering the room when you do. Of course not; there’s no reason to.

But the atmosphere is still oddly charged when you step in, meeting Jungkook’s pale face from afar. You blame it on the sleepless night, just as much as the somewhat dark circles under his eyes.

Still, it gets weirder as you near; because he’s looking at somebody who has their back turned to you. A woman with long black hair, gazing down; and when Jungkook detects you, he looks terrified.

Uprighting himself, blinking, drawing a breath too deep to not worry.

You automatically assume the worst; bad news from the city? Some issues in the village? Or a girl trying her charm on your husband? Wouldn’t be the first time.

You round the chair she made herself comfortable on; and your surprise increases, skyrocketing when you notice that she didn’t come alone. There’s a child next to her. Proper and sweet, certainly older than Hana.

His hands are neatly folded in his lap, hair combed back. He’s just listening, it seems, to whatever they spoke about. And his face… his face looks familiar somehow; as does the girl’s, yet in an entirely different way.

“Good morning,” you greet the woman and she responds with a nod. “Is everything alright?” you finally ask, turning to Jungkook, a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t come back.”

But Jungkook doesn’t answer. Your heart grows a little more wary. Because, why is he so speechless? Why does he look scared, eyes wide, chest risen, as if he’s holding his breath? Blinking faster.

The woman is back to staring at her legs, shifting her hand to grip the little one next to her; and the boy looks like he doesn’t want to be here at all. At the same time, however, he starts to admire the fancy interior of your mansion.

The lustre, the floor, the table, the chairs. Everything you’ve grown used to.

“What is wrong?” you try again. Panic watered by Jungkook’s lack of response, you gulp, but still steady yourself and remain polite. “May I ask… who are you?”

You’re looking at the woman again. She glances up to you. She’s gorgeous — full and curved lips, light brown eyes, pitch black hair. Looks young; about your age. She doesn’t answer, but Jungkook’s quivering voice does.

“This is Jihyo, darling.”

Well, alright. Doesn’t tell you much. You’ve seen her, maybe even heard the name, you think. Is she from your town? But you can’t assign her any significance…

“What does this mean?” you inquire.

“She… She wanted to talk to me,” he explains, “she came all the way from a village close to our hometown.”

“Ah. To say what, exactly?”

You don’t want to sound agitated; but the suspense is growing unnecessarily, and you want whatever truth out. And honestly—

The tension forms a little something in your head. Not enough time has passed for him to properly answer, but you still repeat, “To say what?!”

You feel like you have a hunch… you’re starting to come up with theories. And the worst of them dizzy you, make you want to yell and throw up, tempting you to smash a nearby vase.

Did he… could he do this to you…

No. 

“Jihyo and I knew each other… way before you and I got married. Way before.”

He echoes the last two words as if to reassure you; like the verbal equivalent of a soft hand on your back, rubbing you in comfort. But… the tactic doesn’t quite bear fruits. Your chest tightens more; the fatigue of the morning eventually fades.

“And?” you prompt, regarding her. “Why aren’t you saying anything then?”

“I have… to him. I—I do not quite know if it is my place to—”

“No, it is not,” you interrupt, “maybe you’re right. My husband should explain, no?”

But he’s stuttering as much as her. You don’t lose your patience often with him, or with people for that matter. You’re a cheerful person, fuelled by the miracles of the world. But…

This is pulling out your worst self.

“I—” he starts.

Terrified. What the hell is going on? You wait — wait more as he swallows. And then, when he drops the explanation, your heart falls with it. Bursts, plummeting from such a height.

“Jihyo and I met for a while and… she just came and told me that this… he’s—”

You understand.

You understand immediately because your guts warned you the moment you saw his expression. You look back and forth between him, her and the child, realising the similarities once and for all, well aware from experience why similarities are a thing in a family and…

You can barely hear yourself emit the words once they tumble out; like your voice isn’t your voice, and your thoughts aren’t your thoughts, “This… is your son?”

Like you’re living somebody else’s day who’s about to trudge through a life-changing, agonising event. Because this can’t be happening to you. Actually, it’s not sinking in at all; you’re fantasising, and you refuse to believe reality. 

“Jihyo says he is my son,” he paraphrases, as if he doesn’t really believe her, either, “he’s uhm. He’s six years old.”

Your mind begins to calculate immediately. Sudden dread fills you — because wait. Weren’t you together at that time? Did Jungkook hide from you, lingering in the dark, and yet another past is catching up to the two of you?

No. Hold on once more.

You got married to him five years ago. Were engaged and together for a year before. That makes six. You curl in the fingers in your mind, keeping up your math.

It’s been wrong all along, so you need to be correct this time.

Okay, so, if her — no, his, their son was born six years ago, it’d mean that Jungkook had been with her not too long before you. That’s not way before you got married, is it?

Your breath hitches. You blink the way he did before — not sure what to do or say. Your eyes move over to the rosy cheeks of the child again. He looks so innocent, still clueless, even though he perfectly understands what Jungkook just said.

Who the man is to him.

Of course. Same doe eyes, button nose, shape of face; like a damn copy. Not that the truth hurts enough, no — it had to be accompanied by another of his faces. Not in your own sons, somewhat in your daughter, but in him.

But you guess everybody is confused.

Even Jungkook. Most of all Jungkook, right?

Jihyo says he is my son.

Why? Does he not realise it?

That must mean he didn’t know, did he? And the child didn’t know either.

Jeon Jungkook, your husband of half a decade, has a son he never knew of. Older than Hana. Predating all of your history with him, alive and a toddler already back when you so profoundly believed that you were the first to share this very bond with this man.

To be the first for him at least once. But…

You’re not.

“Say something,” you hear him plead.

His voice is a little farther away. Your eyes drift back to him; he looks miserable, a hand reaching out. His fingers graze the tip of yours, but you retract in time. He sighs in absolute sorrow, face falling, as if his chest is surrendering.

You barely whisper when you answer, “What do you want me to say?”

It’s him and you; the woman is quiet, and you’re shattering. She can’t do anything anyway. Only contorts her face in pure guilt when Jungkook, defeated to the core, begs, “Anything.”

“As you wish.” Another glance at her. She’s looking at you, too. “Why are you here now?”

Her eyebrows raise; she’s caught off guard, but she still has an answer ready. Of course; Jungkook heard all of it minutes before you are, so it must be easy.

“I… I haven’t been doing well. The man I was supposed to marry left when he found out I carried somebody else’s child… even— even before that, actually.” Jungkook breathes air through his lips as she explains; you can’t tell why. “And I need help. Any help.”

“I see… And you couldn’t come years earlier, I assume? When I didn’t have three children of my own?” You lift the corresponding number; your cheeks are fiery hot. “When there was nobody I’d have to explain this to? How…”

You shake your head, disgusted with your attitude, but more devastated by the situation. So you spit, “How selfish are you?”

Her mesmerising eyes are so big; with her and Jungkook’s lives combined, their son could only end up with these grossly sweet eyes, pupils fracturing your heart. She’s looking at you as if you’re about to eat her.

Then she apologises, “I’m sorry… I tried to get by for as long as I could.”

“Didn’t you know we have a family?!”

“I knew! I— Of course I knew.”

Jungkook is royalty; people in your city know the two of you. Know your story. You wonder what this will do to you both.

“And,” you continue, “you still thought it’d be a good idea to bring chaos to our home.”

“I did not wish for this at all,” she defends, “I felt terrible all the while, and… I was so desperate, please try to understand. I need something, anything and… If his father can provide any of it in any way…” 

His father… his father…

You might spiral. The same thoughts circle your head at a pace that might make you faint.

This woman. This child. And his father.

You can’t breathe.

So you don’t respond to the sheer idiocy she just uttered, still in disbelief; the denial will be over in a minute. But for now, it hurts and you’re confused and absolutely out of touch with reality, and… fuck, your stomach—

You put a palm to your chest; the rise and fall is heavy. And just as he calls your name, you bolt away.

Just a second before you once again feel his fleeting digits miss your wrist, a lingering ghost touch as you run.

The first instinct your feet follow leads you to Jungkook’s office.

Somewhere in a corner of the mansion, you have your own chamber, dedicated to your time and your moments; but somehow, you still land in a room drenched in the scent you’re fleeing from.

And it’s counterproductive, the way you’re moving. Fast enough to dim his calls, but slow enough for him to catch up, too. Like you want him to follow. You know he’d find you even if he wasn’t hot on your trail, because you like to hide there.

But on other days, it’s you finding solace in him, not away from him.

You’re dizzy, deeply breathing when you shut the door behind you, both palms on the heavy door. You keep them there as if they could guard you from the disaster outside. But they don’t. None of it might.

Because he’s still right there, busting your glass heart when you hear steps outside, nearing; closer, too close, the corresponding voice hesitating for not a moment—

“Open… open, please.”

And suddenly, you’re crying.

There is no warning, no quiet tear falling, no steady progress. The stream of shock and grief is immediate, and it leaves your eyes, passes your cheeks, collects at your chin so fast that you barely notice the door blurring.

You’re sobbing; your forehead collides with the cold of the door, the carvings unpleasant against your skin. Where are your kids? They must still be asleep. Or maybe somebody is already — hopefully — taking care of them.

Jaehyuk gets all moody when Jungkook or you stay away for too long. You don’t think he should be this attached to you, to not learn to trust others. But trust is fragile and the child seems to know and… and… you know as well. You wish you could be as oblivious as him, though.

The world doesn’t work that way. No, it’s cruel and painful and everything good spoils someday, becomes rotten.

Doesn’t it?

Why does the voice on the other side cut you in pieces?

God. You want to return to your children. You want back to what you had last night; you crave their warmth, and his warmth. Of your children, his children.

But wouldn’t it remind you again? That the number isn’t uneven as you thought. That there’s more out there; he has more pieces out there that you’re not part of and… fuck. Fuck.

“I d-do not want to,” you finally reply, stuttering, words cut.

He silences. Maybe because he can hear you weeping. But he tries again, “Please… open.”

You shake your head against the door, but you know such a choice won’t lead anywhere. He’ll stay right there and you’ll keep telling him to leave, and despite his guest downstairs, he’ll persist.

So your hands sneak to the handle, weakened by the shaking. Jungkook doesn’t barge in until the door cracks open a slit; and when he steps into the room, you tumble back, out of his reach.

You don’t want his embrace. You don’t need his arms.

No, that’s a lie.

You do, but you can’t brave them right now. Body weightless, you rely on your voice, stating, “You never told me.”

His face is fallen, cheeks rounder when he looks to his feet. They’re flushed; the hue is so different from what you’re used to seeing. It’s always accompanied by a smile and crinkles around his eyes, sometimes shy, sometimes delighted.

This time it’s something else. Embarrassment and guilt and pain.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows, smoother due to your quiet tone; but it’s still there, distressed. Pained when he admits, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know a thing.”

“Who is she?”

He knows that, at least. You need to move away from pointless questions and throw those that you’re certain he possesses knowledge about.

He says, “She’s somebody I knew… so long ago.”

A thought after another creeps into your head, like a parasite, feeding on your sanity. You feel crazy and sick when a horrifying idea makes its way through, but you can’t resist the question regardless of the answer.

“Was she… was she one of the people you tried things with? To escape town…”

“No… she wasn’t part of any of this.”

And you cannot say if this is better or worse than what you expected. He wasn’t as terrible as to try with this many women. But if she wasn’t part of that stupid plot, and you were, does this place her higher in worth than you?

You weren’t good enough to be approached without a deal. To be fallen in love with unintentionally. But she was something else. It seems there was something, right?

But he’s with you. He chose you. You’re his wife, the woman he spends his days with, the only thought in his head. He’s loved you throughout the years; he’s devoted to you like the moon to the stars, not to her.

And he’s standing here, his eyes begging, his fingers quivering. You’re the subject of his desire and the name in his heart; he never even mentioned her. Fuck, he breathes for you… but you can’t seem to breathe.

You’re the mother of his children, yes. But so is she.

“Did you… did you get with my sister or me to forget about her?”

Fuck, you’re breathless. Why are you breaking like this? Why does the moment feel like this? When is it going to be over? Will you wake up easier?

“No…” he says, shaking his head immediately, “no. You know how it started. It had nothing to do with her, just with him…”

“So what?!” you spit, unable to contain yourself, somehow not affected enough by the big, sad eyes, pleading and fearing. “Who was she?”

It hurts. It hurts not only because of the obvious circumstances but — your love was born out of a facade, out of a lie. Even if he loves you genuinely now, even if you’d die for him without hesitation — the two of you happened as part of a different purpose.

But she never did.

She was real. Whatever he had with her or felt for her, it stemmed out of something authentic.

Your face heats up when you inquire, “…Did you love her?”

“I…” He hesitates. Fucking hesitates. But then says, “I didn’t.”

“You’re lying.”

You don’t know if he is. You can usually tell; this seems a little more complicated. One, you’re clouded by your own judgement. Second, the situation isn’t easy; Jihyo so obviously belongs to parts of his history.

Jungkook insists again, “I didn’t love her.”

“But you felt something.”

“I don’t know,” comes back, and something inside you falls, even if it shouldn’t, even if you had nothing to do with whatever was before you came along. You hate it, but you can’t stop yourself from plummeting face-forward into pain when he says, “But she was nowhere close to where you are now. Or where you were even back then.”

Can you believe this? The but pierces through you, repeating in your mind, as if saying, “No, she was less than you, but still something.” How do you know none of it will return with a child present in his life?

“But she was enough for a child,” you retort, “and… I don’t know how careful you were with others, too…”

“I was. I was careful.”

“But not with her!”

He doesn’t respond. This isn’t you; you don’t make others feel bad. You endorse empathy and joy. No, this isn’t you and it frightens you. If you had it in you right now, you’d take him into your arms. He’d deserve it, considering that he’s as surprised as you, falling as much as you.

Suffering like you.

But your thoughts are going haywire, and they keep falling out, “I thought I was the first one. I wanted our children to be our first—”

“I thought so, too,” he defends, “it’s what I would have preferred, baby, I… If I could just…” He gulps; it’s as if you can hear it from afar, in this quiet, empty room. There’s a pause between his words before he steps closer, whispering, “Please, I love you—”

“No, I…” You back away again. Shield yourself. You can’t take a single touch right now.

“Can we mend this?” Jungkook asks; the question splits you in half.

Because what could you do, really? This very real fact looms over you, might do so forever.

“Mend what?” you echo. “That you have a child with another woman? What is there to mend? This is reality and you cannot undo it.”

When you look closely enough, his eyes shimmer with tears, too. The sparse sunlight seeping through the windows for the first time in hours upon hours highlights the glimmer, but there’s nothing soft about it. You recognise dread in it.

Jungkook has been abandoned before, and ever since he married you, he’s been just as afraid, too. It took months and years for the two of you to find a remedy, to decrease the terror. To make him trust your presence entirely. To help him understand that you’re here.

Now, by the looks of it, it seems he isn’t sure anymore.

He tries again, desperate, out of his mind, “Just somehow. Somehow, we can fix this, right?”

“Fix what, Jungkook…?”

“Please.”

You’re moving in circles. He keeps imploring you to reconsider, and you remain clueless about what exactly he’s begging for. You just want to know where this is going. Who she is. Who she was. 

“Please what…” you whisper, eyes drifting to the ground. “What are we going to do about it, Jungkook? It’s important to think about, right…? Who was she to you?”

Who she was?

Jungkook’s memory is fragmented.

Pieces of what she really used to be to him evaporated long ago, just when he turned to look at her properly for the very last time on that warm early summer night. Back then, her smile was fake, apologetic, as if she’d committed an unforgivable crime.

As if sorry for wasting his time, for hurting him, for watching him leave when she wished for him to stay a little longer.

A similarly sad smile, yet so different in nature, appeared when she greeted him so gently in the hallway today. He was frozen in the staircase, stuck on that damn smile that haunted him for weeks and months back then, trying to understand whether she was actually here.

Wondered how he could make her disappear again. It wouldn’t fare well with how he lives his life with you now, he already knew. She was interfering.

And… the familiar smile told him she wasn’t here to deliver any good news. And even though he doesn’t remember it all anymore, he hated how the expression brought back the flood of past images.

The first fuzzy image was of a smile, too, albeit incredibly faded. More optimistic, tender. Enthusiastic, craving the solace and joy of the night as much as Jungkook had.

She stood on the far opposite side of the spacious hall back then; even through the dancing couples, he could see her gleaming, absorbed in a conversation with her dearest friends.

Jungkook had seen her before; perhaps once or twice, but he could barely remember her face. It was as if he was actually looking at her for the first time that night. He didn’t think she generally attended too many parties; and when they’d crossed paths before, they’d probably been a little younger.

He just…

He couldn’t remember her being this striking.

He couldn’t recall the dimples or the vibrant smile or the sparkle in her large eyes. Far away in the room, Jungkook lightly bit his lip as he observed, cocking an eyebrow when she gasped to something her friend had said.

As if he was standing next to her and hearing it, too. Mimicking her reaction, caught in a bubble.

And it took her a little to notice him, too. But when she did, her friends’ eyes followed, an immediate elbow teasing her sides as much as their words. Jungkook could only imagine what they were saying.

What are you looking at?

Is it your turn already? With him, yes?

Oh, and the season has barely begun!

He could read parts of it off their lips. Lifted his ego a little. But he averted his eyes nevertheless, despite the resistance in his movements, only to shift back every now and then.

To his chagrin, the night didn’t offer too many opportunities to near where she stood, but as the event snuck to its end, at least a sliver of hope twinkled, even for just a minute. Approaching the carriages at the same time, he found her waiting not too far from him.

Her family was missing just like his; but he was comfortable here, staring at the sky, breathing in the late spring breeze. But her gown, while heavy, wasn’t accompanied by a shawl, her arms bare.

He used the chance to ask, “Aren’t you cold?”

She stared up in surprise, not quite expecting a conversation. Yet, smoothly, and either bold or courageous or sweet, she answered with a confidence so enticing, “Hmmm, no. I guess I felt warmed enough throughout the night.”

Interesting. So very interesting.

Jungkook’s lips twitched upwards, an enthralled smile; his voice sounded somewhat different when he asked, “Is that so?”

“Mhm. I’ll thank you another day, though.”

Behind her, her folks neared, and he looked ahead and then down, smile still plastered to his face. Even when she’d left, the sparkle remained in his eyes.

That was it for now.

Jungkook’s and Jihyo’s paths crossed again merely a week later. He understood in that time apart that the tiny interaction had caught him somehow; he was relieved when he saw her again at the next party.

Brave, he joined her where she stood, scanning the finger food before settling on some tartelettes. He’d been hopeful throughout these days, yes, but Jihyo didn’t show her face too often; so he didn’t lie when he confessed, “I didn’t expect you here.”

“Well…” she answered, “I hoped to see you. I told you I’d want to thank you.”

“Mhhh, I’m still not sure what for, though.”

She shrugged her shoulders, smile so vibrant. “It was a pleasant night. I felt warm throughout.”

She’d said the same thing last time, waiting at the carriage, moonlit and breathtaking. He smirked a little, satisfied by the flow of the dialogue; then argued, “But it is the summer season. Heat is all that is ahead.”

“…Isn’t it?”

Something stirred in Jungkook. He wouldn’t analyse her words on other days, but her expression was telling. Made him fearless, whirling his mind as he asked, “Have you explored this place yet?”

“No. I never get to do so much. But,” she said enthusiastically, licking cream off her snack. Jungkook couldn’t look away. “I wouldn’t mind walking around. It is hotter inside anyway.”

And matching her fierce response from before, Jungkook added, “…I doubt it.”

He was right. She’d prove it quick minutes later. In the backyard, stopping in the middle of their walk, he felt the warmth, the heat when she pushed him into an empty corner, lips crashing against his.

Jungkook’s blood scorched indeed; the outside wasn’t cooler. In fact, it burned. He burned. And she burned, too. Her skin, her shoulder, the mounds of her breasts underneath the dress that he pulled down.

There wasn’t any room or chance to proceed too far, but somehow, Jungkook was content with this.

It made him crave harder; and he enjoyed the feeling. The temptation. The yearning for all he hadn’t yet seen, yet felt. He hungered for her; she was the opposite of what the world held, brought him excitement.

Today, he doesn’t know if it was this very exhilaration or the need for distraction or something else that dragged him back to her over and over again. He recalls his heart nervously jumping, but he can’t recall it blooming. Never the way it did with you. Never.

But she still evoked something different. Reprieve from his days, his sorrows, the grief in his big, old home.

He never told her any of this, but he assumes she saw. Sometimes, she’d raise his chin when they met in private, mouth breathing close to his, asking if something was wrong. He’d deny. He’d dive into her eyes and lips instead, forget about it all, enjoy her empathy.

She’d somehow worry, he thought, and then kiss him, tell him it was alright, no matter what it was. That she was there. And he’d appreciate it. Would like the warmth, the care.

And still, he’d go home to tears, suffer all over again. But when he fell asleep, he’d think of her, forbidding the last thought of the night to be anything dreadful, anything but the same pretty smile.

She offered madness. She offered humour, sweetness, and most of all, relief.

Jihyo always refused to walk around town. She never hesitated to decline his offers.

Jungkook was alright with this; didn’t question her rejection at first; he didn’t know what the two of them were, anyway. There were fuzzy feelings somewhere, something twinkling in his mind and his guts and his chest.

He didn’t think love felt this way, however.

He regarded love as a much stronger sentiment than what they had. What was it that they indulged in anyway? Ablaze days and nights, baring themselves behind locked doors, lips on her skin, her sides, her waist, her flesh. Hands on, under, between her legs.

The digits would dig into her hips and remain; his tongue tasted her up, up and down, in and out. Taking in her scent, lapping her up, showing her new things. Body against body. Buried in her, glued to her — could that be love? No.

It was just that, wasn’t it? Yes, he’d stopped meeting other women. Yes, he’d be distracted at events.

He would spend his time with his boys, but let his mind and eyes travel far from them; even the presences hiding in those halls that he’d usually mock or annoy or disregard, projecting his own insecurities onto them, dulled.

Jihyo was beautiful. Jihyo captured focus. And he called Jihyo’s name until he even muttered it when alone; she breathed it until he could only hear his own name in her voice.

But.

It wasn’t love. Even today, he knows it never was.

Yet, even then, he could imagine this for a while. If he couldn’t love her now, he thought, maybe he could love her some day. He couldn’t tell, but he could imagine it. Who knew? 

Then again, it seemed he would never find out, anyway.

Some days, some time later, Jungkook eventually started thinking how odd it was that Jihyo never wanted to go out. To tell somebody about them; would it be so bad?

He presumed it was because she didn’t want others to know. He understood, truly; at an age where people would pressure one into obligations just when they saw others together, he didn’t want them to rumour yet.

Then again, Jihyo and he were connected somehow; sometimes he thought that was enough, too. Deep under the sheets so often, sharing stories sometimes, and perhaps they weren’t for the public to hear.

And there was something mysterious about them that nobody would understand, anyway. He couldn’t wrap his finger around the mystical nature of the two of them, but he started to understand she had him good.

Yet…

Yet. Something was wrong with her. So entirely wrong when she’d keep him hidden in rented rooms or in the dead dark of the night.

When she’d refuse his offer to promenade through the park, be fully against his invitations on some days without a proper reason at all. Or, when she’d skip events that she promised to attend, and then told him she hadn’t been sick — just not in the mood.

And one day, he decided to ask.

A very futile intention; the urge to ask was quickly overshadowed by kisses too intense. He already wanted to see her again even before the evening was over, no matter what she’d answer. He was already dreaming of her body, despite towering over it right now.

Would these dreams ever stop?

His nights were sleepless anyway, just like this approaching one. Hands on his own skin, today replaced by her, pumping and fondling. All over him when he climbed onto her and pushed in again.

He couldn’t free himself of the itch she caused just yet; kept scratching. Then again, he was so clueless about who she was at this very moment. Fond of her, but confused, too.

Aware of how much he thought of her, but having no issues retorting things snarkily, like when she mumbled underneath him, “You can’t live without me,” and he effortlessly rose from her neck, swollen lips answering, “Oh, I can.”

And he could. They were confusing in nature, but he knew that he could.

Because she was veiling something that he thought might distance her from him, so he started keeping himself mentally distanced either way. Even though it proved harder these days.

But the two of them were still something. They got along; there was humour in this, attraction and fire. And he felt heavenly inside her every damn time.

In the midst of it, he told her, “We could try harder.”

Perhaps she misunderstood; perhaps she couldn’t read his eyes and his tone yet, because she pulled him closer, deeper. He let her. Wouldn’t voice these thoughts properly again until he dropped next to her and said, “I like spending time with you. And I want to try more.”

He didn’t notice right away — her hesitation, her silence.

It took a second to even look at her; and when he did, he recognised the sudden guilt in her eyes instantly. Remorse, pain. Like he’d just broken something with his idea that she’d kept whole. Only now, she couldn’t save it anymore.

He didn’t know what it was, so he wondered, “What is it?”

“I…”

Then again, it wasn’t hard to figure out anyway. He deduced, “…You don’t want it.”

“It’s… not that I don’t want it.”

“I mean. It’s alright, you see? We aren’t this far, so if you want to reject this, I do understand. I will live.”

“I might have to reject it… you, Jungkook,” she confessed, and he had to admit that he wasn’t overly enjoying what he was hearing, “not because I want to, but it’s…”

And the universe had cruel ways of interrupting. Always.

Because her words halted somewhere between him and her and then vanished into thin air. Cut by strong, arhythmic knocks at the door. The sudden interjection startled them, dropped the quiet hearts into the pit of their stomachs.

As the door worked on being unlocked, she whispered a tiny, anxious, “Please… you might get hurt.”

And Jungkook understood; jumped off the bed, slipping into his trousers within seconds before dashing to the back. The wardrobe was empty, ideal to hide; it’s what he knew she wanted, for him to stay anonymous.

Jihyo, still bare, sat up on the bed, and Jungkook, in the dark with only a gap to observe the outside happenings, waited. Waited until the door opened. Until a man, more or less a stranger to him, only minimally familiar, stormed in with furious eyes.

He didn’t stall a second before his anger ambushed her. Jungkook’s fingers tingled to crash the door of the wardrobe open; even from here, it was abundantly clear that the man struggled to not hurt her.

But right now, he relied on the fury in his tone; Jungkook assumed it was a brother or friend raging about her indecent behaviour. But it soon became all too obvious that he wasn’t. Somebody of such a relationship doesn’t snap like this.

No, Jungkook understood. Knew what the issue was when the man asked, “So you’ve started getting naked for others? Is that it now? That’s what you whore have been doing?”

For others…

She tried, “Listen, I—”

But he cut her off, “No! I promised you everything. Why do you despise me so much? You couldn’t wait for us to be wed, but needed to satisfy your needs elsewhere? Why do you despise me, huh?”

Jihyo didn’t hear much of what he said, zeroing in on specific statements, and whispered, “You do not give me everything. Not even close.”

Fuck.

If it wasn’t clear already… Jungkook’s mind spun.

Jihyo was promised to somebody else and was using Jungkook with a purpose and intention, as a means of fulfilling whatever she needed to fulfil. And he— he was the homewrecker, the third wheel, not her focus the way she was his focus.

Despite the mistakes he’d ever made, despite his damn flaws, he never wanted this.

What was he? A placeholder? Thrown aside the moment she’d marry him? Why was it that Jungkook’s existence was regarded as something so low, stomped beneath people’s feet, like he was nothing at all?

Who knew? There wasn’t even a second to think about it, to ask about it.

Priorities shifted, inquiries shoved away; when the man reached low, snatching a patch of her hair to pull her off the bed, sirens chimed in Jungkook’s head. It still mattered to him, not seeing her hurt; but his instincts were deep-rooted.

Nobody, including Jihyo, should have to experience this.

So Jungkook pushed the door open, met with a gasp, surprise and wrath. The man didn’t need to ask who he was or what he was doing here; he knew immediately, more than cognisant of the wretched situation.

Jungkook was ready to throw some insult onto him, words already on his lips, arms reaching out to defend her. But he didn’t need to; the guy had already let her go, taking a swing within a second before his fist landed on Jungkook’s jaw.

It could’ve been worse; he could’ve broken it. Jungkook knew right away that the damage wasn’t as terrible as it had the potential to be.

But his tongue still felt warm, tasted metallic. He took a deep breath through his nose, dizzy for a moment, still sane enough to hear the stranger say, “You can have the slut.”

There was another blob of disgust landing on Jungkook’s face; no doubt that the man bid him farewell with one last literal spit on Jungkook’s cheek. Then, the door fell into its lock, and it got quiet again.

Or… not quite.

Jungkook lacked words; there was nothing to say anyway. He was the culprit after all.

Worried hands settled on his body; he didn’t notice how much he’d sunk to the ground, one knee hitting the floor. But when the exploring fingers touched his waist, up to his armpits and his elbows, he stood tall again.

She was trying to lift him. To check for wounds, despite the clear drops of scarlet red he was leaving on this rented room’s floor. Eyes shutting for a second, he slapped the concerned palm off his arm, dodging it when she came back with a quiet, “Jungkook…”

“Shut up.”

“Please listen—”

“Listen to fucking what? You’re…”

There was no ending to the sentence. He didn’t know what she was. A fraud, maybe. But he didn’t have it in him to insult her somehow; perhaps because she, too, was already in enough pain as it was.

When his eyes opened, they glared. To his feet, to the side, into her wet gaze. She was nearly hiccuping, but he couldn’t get himself to give into the empathy entirely; the anger simmered in the pit of his stomach, threatened to come to a full boil.

Yet, he registered when she said, “He doesn’t treat me well, he— he’s controlling. And emotionally abusive, he— please,” she grabbed his hand, but he pulled out of her grip, “I can’t marry him, not if— not if I’m scared he might raise his hand at me.”

“Then don’t fucking marry him. You have this choice,” Jungkook said, spitting into the corner; the colour was disgusting. “Controlling and abusive, however? You sound perfect for him.”

“I don’t… I can’t. I can’t stay with him, but I— I could stay with you. I would.”

Jungkook scoffed. She had to be joking. Undoubtedly; there was nothing in him capable of believing she meant this. Not when she’d refused just this idea mere minutes ago.

He shook his head; he wouldn’t have any of this. Even if she left this man… even then…

He couldn’t do this because she made him do something so easily that he abhorred. He’d seen the love between his father and his mother before, and then witnessed the hatred between her and his uncle.

After all these years of affliction, he knew the difference between love and despise.

Knew where affection could grow, where it would wilt. Where it’d be replaced with hostility.

She wasn’t made for him; he wasn’t in the mindset for her. And he was wrong after all; he didn’t love her and he never could have.

“Please, don’t go,” she begged as he picked up his clothes, wiping his mouth on the bed sheet, ready to leave. “Please, I—”

She followed him all the way to the door; Jungkook resisted each push and pull, charging towards the exit with resolution. And when she blocked the door for too long, sobbing onto her body, he fletched his teeth, sharpened his jaw, clasped her wrist before he turned her around.

Arm pinned to her back, cheek pressing into the door, she kept crying, and then, finally, sighed. She gulped; then lowered her face, forehead to the cold of the wood, and too courageously as always pleaded, “Be with me one last time. Just… just once.”

And her tone… her voice… her curling fingers…

They tempted him. Something about this, something about her tugged him in again, like an invisible force. And for the tiniest moment, he hated himself for thinking this way. But deep inside he knew the truth.

That he still craved her. Still wanted to feel her once more. Still hungered to bury himself in deep, leaving scars and marks as if to punish her just once. But…

But he remembered. She’d turned him into somebody he wasn’t. So he couldn’t. He’d carry the regret to his grave.

So he let her go, using the moment of weakness, shoving her away slightly — she let him. She understood to give up. And he, with a coat over his shoulder, left.

A hand over the bleeding wound, and the other over his injured mouth.

If he wakes up now, you won’t be able to take it.

It was already difficult, breathing through every second of the rest of the day. Overthinking, but never quite processing the information you received. From the very moment you woke up to the story Jungkook narrated and everything that followed, the seconds have been hell.

Everything… everything—

The remaining conversations. With her, with the village bartender he expected. You don’t know how he survived any of it, functioned at all; using his brain at full capacity, reading through papers when you were sure the letters were blurring in front of his very eyes.

And how he looked at you after he was done and returned to you, reaching for your limp hand…

The hurt was prominent, your heart still reluctant, but you let him; what good would it have done to send him away? He kept coming back. Sat there for an hour until you told him to tend to his guest, to discuss whatever he needed to.

Truth was, you didn’t want him to go… but you didn’t want him near, either.

Your mind kept circling around a hundred and thousands of things. The woman sitting downstairs, fiddling and nervous, the child still next to her. Possibly bored. She’s aware of her past as much as you are, of the role she played. Of the hurt she caused.

The more you think about it, the more it pains. The more it seems like a tragedy, like an anti-fairytale. Fabricated.

So unreal.

It’s as though thinking it senseless could make it less real. You’re married to him now, but you still feel small, shrinking, insecure and hurt and unable to make any of this coherent.

You needed silence today. You wanted your mind to divert, conjure different, more pleasant thoughts, memories of better times. But this proved worse; so somehow, you ended up overthinking the situation to death.

You don’t want the children to wake up again. Hana is fast asleep, Jaehyuk dozing. It was Jaehoon’s subtle whimpering that finally shifted your attention twenty minutes ago; your arms were too weightless to carry him, but you did, swayed him, blended out your brain with his sounds.

By now, he’s already drooling over you again. You hope he stays just like this; hope Jaehyuk doesn’t notice the empty side of their crib. 

There’s something about this, the twin intuition. You had heard about it before, but it is truly fascinating, the way they communicate. You’re still baffled that Jaehyuk stayed as unmoving as he did when you pulled his brother towards you, comforting yourself with his warmth.

But you have to admit…

You’re exhausted. More so mentally than physically. Your body yearns to drop. The up and down pacing only drains you further.

You should set him into his crib again. He’s fast asleep anyway; everybody is. Just you aren’t. And your husband isn’t.

In fact, he’s not even in this room with you. Heart palpitating and chest paining, you’ve been waiting. He slipped in and out of the rooms you were in for hours, and you kept sending him away, sickened by the apologies, not even certain what exactly he was apogising for.

For having a child? For once tending to secret meetings with a woman you don’t know, ambiguous about what he felt for her? You don’t know.

And…

Honestly — your heart isn’t splintering because he made a mistake, really, did he? You and him were nothing back then. No. You’re fractured because of your own damn expectations. And because you wanted life to lead somewhere else.

You didn’t want somebody to become such a part of your love and marriage like this.

You sigh to breathe out the ache, deep from your stomach, hoping it’ll lighten the load. But it doesn’t really. Not even Jaehoon’s little hand over your chest does, his head on your shoulder, the scent of his baby hair.

And once the door to the bedchamber creaks open, you don’t feel relieved, either. Your heart stirs more, if anything. Scared your son might hear or notice, you hurry to put him down again, draping a blanket over his little body before you shut your silken robe.

Jungkook appears as if he’s lived a dozen lives in a day. His pupils have shrunk, shoulders low, hair as uncombed as in the morning. He didn’t bother; as little as you. He halts when he sees you standing in the middle of the room, surprised about the random spot you chose.

Endless affection flashes across his face, transparent yearning, as though he hasn’t seen you in days. Within a moment, the expression calms a little, and he pulls himself together enough to ask, “You are still awake, darling?”

You hold yourself tight, as if binding your body together. Clearing your throat, you say, “It’s… I don’t know if I will be able to sleep tonight.”

“…Me neither.”

“What happened?”

You gesture to the ground, referring to the parlour. She’s probably not even there anymore. She was all day; and she journeyed. She must be tired.

Jungkook explains, as if reading your mind, “Jihyo… she’s in one of the guest rooms.” You nod. He cards through his hair, continuing, “She said the guy she was supposed to marry never told anyone what had happened that night… I— I don’t know why. He never came back at all, but I figured that bit. She didn’t want him to, and I told her he shouldn’t have either way.”

He sighs; so do you. Feelings or not, you guess Jungkook has never been a bad person. It still feels odd. He then says, “And then she was abandoned by her family when they learned of her pregnancy and she wouldn’t tell anybody who the father was…”

Of course not. Somewhere, she must have cared.

“They sent her to some faraway aunt who was apparently a tyrant… and she ran away when her boy was a year old.”

Your dropped chin lifts, an immediate response forming in your mind. Your boy. Your boy, too. But you don’t spill it. In truth, you don’t even need to. As if written all over your face in big, bold letters, Jungkook sees right through you.

He halts, gives himself a moment to be sure it’s what you’re stuck on, and then tells you, “…I know but… I have no connection to him. She does. I have none at all.”

“She does, and now she’s here… actually here…”

“She’s here because it was nearly impossible to survive for her,” he insists, the tone of defence sharp and clear, “but somehow she still did. It’s gotten more difficult now, however, and—” He’s struggling more now; while some words pour out, others are whispered. Like, “As the father of her child… she says it is both our responsibility to ensure he is well. But…”

As the father of her child, as the parents of their child.

He’s not wrong; and you guess that if it wasn’t happening in your own household, you’d be much more lenient about this. You’d be nodding along, agreeing that a father should be present, that a child deserves it.

You’ve been part of an orphanage filled with lonely kids for too long to think otherwise.

But it surely is different in moments like these. You feel like a hypocrite.

“But?” you prod.

“She understands if I say no, too. I have my own family now.”

Yeah…

Did she need to tell him that? Did he know by himself; are these her or his words? You wonder…

“You say she always struggled,” you draw back to again, “why did she never reach out when she knew she was with child already?”

He rubs his eyes. Tired, his body somewhat more worn out than ever. Barely looks active; the shoulders are in an entirely new position. Or no… not new. You’ve seen it before — it’s just been years now.

“She thought I wouldn’t bother,” he says, “she thought… I’d abandoned her once and for all. Which I reckon I did.”

“And…” You’re scared to ask. You swallow. “Would you have aided her? If you’d known.”

He quietens. You’re not too fond of the hesitation loudening the silence. You know he’s thinking, eyes unfocused, imagining the scenario you narrated without probably really wanting to. You brought this to yourself, so you’ll need to be patient.

And you are, until he finally concludes, “I would have… I— I would have felt like I owed this to my child. I can’t— sweetheart, it’s not my nature, please understand. I wouldn’t leave a woman alone with this if I was anyhow part of it and—”

“And… If you’d known… we wouldn’t even have happened, right?”

Jungkook shakes his head again, the movements even lazier now. You’re afraid he might drop and faint. But he breathes in, then out, uprights himself, “It doesn’t matter what would have or could have happened. I did approach you and I did fall in love with you and we did happen. Isn’t… isn’t that enough?”

You blink; then blink more. A shaky breath escapes your lips to keep your voice as steady as doable. “Yes… I assume…”

Another pause. More stalling until the thoughts previously forming in your head become less of a tangled, messy garn and get clearer. You just do not know how to voice them; to keep the man who brought stars down to the ground to you whole.

You don’t want to hurt him. But you don’t understand how to handle the next few days any other way.

But you don’t say it yet. You wait. Listen as he begs, “Please tell me… tell me what you’re thinking. I don’t know what to do.”

You lie, “I don’t know, either, Jungkook.”

His strong hands get ahold of tufts of his hair again, butchering his mane more. The gesture isn’t aggressive, but he still looks so out of his goddamn mind. Desperately, he steps closer, breathing, “You know that I love you, yes?”

…You’ve seen needles at your seamstress’ place before. They always strike you as effective, professional. Sharp. The sting you feel reminds you of when her needle digs into fabric. Perhaps worse.

Perhaps it’ll turn into a sword in a moment.

“Only you,” he adds, but then halts, a shake of his head correcting himself before he tries again, “no. Only you and them.” His eyes briefly dart to the crib, a reminder to lower his voice, even though the shudder makes it hard. “I haven’t thought about her in yea—”

No…

“You haven’t thought about her once?” you interrupt. It’s one of the things your derailing mind tried to convince you of today. That she never really disappeared. “The woman you were involved with like this… you never ever thought of her or regarded her important enough to tell me about her? To think about her?”

And now he’s confused. Why do you keep asking questions? You’re your own worst enemy, really. Then again, how does one stop this toxic curiosity from overflowing in a moment like this?

“I don’t know,” he admits. Not a needle anymore… “She might have crossed my mind as somebody who once existed in my life. Not in a romantic manner. Nor in a yearning manner. I did not miss her, you see?”

He moves closer, hands lifting. You only now see how pale he is, his skin so close, eyes nearly lifeless, but not quite. They’re still filled with so much emotion and pain as he continues, “And I certainly did not care enough to prioritise her over you anyhow.”

Palms cradle your face. Usually so warm and comforting, they’re icy today, as if his blood has frozen in his veins. And he sounds so utterly dehydrated when he says, “She was never important enough, no…”

“I— I see.”

He waits. His breath falls on your face before he runs his tongue between his lips nervously. His waterline is damp, but holding back. You wonder when he last ate, when he last drank.

You guess he’s not as concerned about himself when he requests, “Tell me what you are thinking.”

A lot. Too much to condense into one single thought. But you still pick out one of the million swirling around and throw it out, “I am wondering… about what you will do now. I will assume you will help.”

You see how much he hates to admit it; you nearly take it back before he, however, tells you again, “I may have to.”

“And… if you do. What will it look like? Will you— I do not know. Will you meet her regularly, send her money, see the child? Build a bond? Have… have two families on either side?”

“I d-don’t think it will be like this, I—”

“How will it be then?”

His hands drop. He shuts his eyes, but opens them again a minute later. “I will provide… I might get to know him. But I do not plan on making them an integral, main part of my life. I don’t want this to come between us or have the children think wrong of me, and… you’re my priority.”

You know…

As the wife of somebody like Jungkook, you have seen the hardships that come with a traumatised mind. One that so deeply fears he will step into his family’s shoes, mimicking the misery he once experienced.

He’s been afraid of passing on generational trauma for years, and he battled the fear… you know he doesn’t want to start at zero. You don’t want it either. And you genuinely do not perceive him as a bad father; quite the opposite.

Jeon Jungkook gives his all. He loves with his all. He worships with his all.

But you still think this needs time and patience.

So you confess, “I believe you… I do. I just. I think this will change things. I cannot stop thinking about you moving back and forth, nurturing two families, and yes, I am selfish, but… I always assumed I was the only one.”

Not before. Not long ago. But now.

You would’ve been content with somebody like her being out there and never finding out about it. For the very first time in your life, you’re selfish, and it hurts, it burns, and you loathe that you cannot turn it off.

“I did, as well…” he confirms. “But you’re the only one that matters.”

“What about your son? Do you have it in you to not care?”

“He’s a child I never spoke to!” he argues, voice rising by an octave. “I just… fuck, I do not know. Baby, I… I don’t want to be a pendulum. I’m not swinging between two spaces… I will never perceive anyone as more important than you.”

“I see.”

Pause. Then, “…Please look at me.”

You feel another clump rise to your throat. It’s more dense this time, inevitable, and it affects your speech. Accompanied by something lifting to your head and making it heavier. You tell him, “I can't.”

“…Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“You ca—” He shifts, eager to bring you back to him; you’re already miles away and he knows. “Baby… Do you still love me?”

You could scoff. But you don’t; instead, you feel the liquid starting to pour. Like the rain these days, less comforting now, it drops out of your eyes. You somehow very well expected it, but the amount of the drops still surprises you.

Like a grey sky indicating a gloomy day, yet not a reliable preparation for a downpour.

Your inhale is sharp, cuts the air, and your eyebrows painfully furrow when the tears collect. You answer, “Of course I love you, I— Fuck, of course I do. It’s why this hurts so much!”

“I… I know.”

His gaze is similarly wet, suddenly an ocean, but he blinks the despair away before he crushes you in a hug. Jungkook is never afraid to cry, but restraining himself is something he’s practised for the kids… and even for you, it seems.

Shit, but— you’ve told him so many times. So many times to not hold back for you. You don’t either. You don’t either, right?

“I know,” he repeats, “I— I don’t know why these things happen, I’m—”

You shake your head against his chest, sogging his clothes as you mumble, “I can’t blame you, can I? It was your past, yes, but I wasn’t part of it, and… it’s still so much.”

“For me, too… for me as well, darling—”

“I just— I think I need distance, Jungkook.”

Wait… 

Wha—

That’s when the world stops spinning, frozen like his blood. The heart he has so gently guarded so far detaches from the rest of what lies beneath his ribs, and jumps into his throat, pounds in his ears.

The profound hope that he misheard you is needless, he already knows. He’s been hyper aware of your every movement and word today; he knows what you said and he knows he’ll have to let you. But…

“…What?”

The decision still leaves him stranded on an island. Away from this house and you and his children. Desolated, he as its lone habitant. And the image is surreal.

“I need to go away,” you elaborate again, digging deeper into the wound. Can he rewind the morning? No. You add, “Just until you have this sorted out with her and it’s done, and—”

“I have,” he carefully voices, convinced, so, so convinced, “there is nothing more to say.”

But you’re not with him just yet; you argue, “But she should stay for a little, shouldn’t she? I… I am not too fond of the scenario, but from an empathetic perspective, you should know about your son. Be in the loop…”

Yes, you do hate the idea. Yes, it contradicts your distaste for the image of him walking to and fro between families, providing and keeping her in his life. But, after all is said and done, his son will still be his son.

And you are only heartbroken, not heartless.

“I just…” you continue, gulping. “I can’t be here while she is. And I don’t want you to send her away already, either. Her journey seems to have been long and… she’s just trying to live.”

“Where… where do you want to go?”

“Home.”

The resolute tone you decide on hurts. Not because he’s against your family or your place back in the city, but because you seem to have thought it out already. That you want to leave. That you want to be away from him.

The woman that latches onto him the moment he crawls into bed after work; from the man who clutches your body throughout the night, wakes up delirious from your scent.

It stings. It burns.

“Just for a little,” you say, as if to cure the injury. “I… I need to be away.”

Jungkook’s throat is knotted up and dry. He almost doesn’t dare to ask, but he knows he’ll keep wondering when you’re gone. So he spits, “And then?”

“And then… I will see.”

Doesn’t matter anyway. He guesses that the wondering part won’t change, no matter what he inquires, no matter what you respond.

“…Why does this sound like a possible goodbye?”

He might faint. He doesn’t know how long he’ll have to be awake without you. Doesn’t know what’ll follow this disaster. Doesn’t know anything. Most of his life, he’s been haunted by this uncertainty, and he hates the return of it.

And you’re not saying anything; the moment gets worse as you close your eyes for a bit, staring down, unable to answer because you probably don’t know, either.

But…

“Please say something,” he urges, abandoning questions and pleas, diving straight into statements as if this could make them definitely true, “you… you will come back. You won’t leave after this.”

There’s agitation in your voice, merged with desperation when you speak again, “Jungkook, I can only think so far right now—”

“No, please…”

“What do you mean, pl—”

“I can’t lose you, no matter what.”

“But right now, I can’t take this either, Jungkook!” you snap. Perhaps it’s his big eyes throwing you off guard or the unknown future or the fresh hurt. Something in you breaks as your voice starts to vibrate, eyes watery. “I don’t want to be— another. And I can’t fully make you abandon them either, and… I still don’t know how to live with such a change and—”

And. And. And.

The list goes on. That’s the problem. It’s an overwhelming mess, a never ending string of thoughts. 

As the light in your eyes dims, usually so blindingly bright on other days, Jungkook’s eyes overflow. First a single drop of a tear, then half a dozen. He blinks them away, but suddenly there’s a river across his cheek, collecting to a sea at the chin.

And you look similar.

Shattered like glass. Your broken pieces are tiny; they resemble dust. God, albeit without a single intention, Jungkook has hurt the wrong person.

Desperation at the front of his tongue, he doesn’t know what to say. Nothing more to do but to revert back to pathetic begging—

“Please… don’t go.” His voice quivers, the sigh even shakier; his soft hands, the ones that held you just last night, rub his face in anger towards himself. “It’s who I used to be… I didn’t know.”

“Yes, it’s what used to happen, b–but it doesn’t hurt any less, fuck, and…”  Breathing is as hard as speaking. Your tears run again when you add, “And what if there are more? What if more of them come knocking at our door and we don’t know yet?”

His chest is rising high, falling low. Lower lip never still. You know panic is growing beneath his chest, and you want to wrap your arms around him, keep his pure heart from breaking. But what can you do?

Yours is splitting, too.

Worse when all he whispers again is, “Please don’t go.”

It’s a hopeless attempt. You know; you hear it. He’s still trying but he’s not truly expecting you to change what you decided on. Yet, you ask, “Please understand.”

He’s still not moving; but you think he understands indeed. Because he nods. Doesn’t look at you anymore. The sniffles are familiar, painful as he questions, “What about the children?”

You feared this question. The delivery of it proves harder than you thought; your tongue nearly gets tied, “I… I will leave the twins here. Travelling might be difficult with both of them when I am alone.” You look to the wall; to the little beds on the other side of the room. “Can I take Hana with me?”

You know it’s killing him as much as it is messing with you. You know what it means when he breathes in, but doesn’t argue with you as he nods again. Jeon Jungkook loves you; he loves you to every end of the universe.

And you’ll love Jeon Jungkook for the rest of your life, too, despite it all.

But this is needed.

He asks, “How long will you be away?”

“I don’t know…” you admit. “Hopefully not long.”

“I see.”

“I am sorry.”

All grand arguments end in silence or insults or apologies. There are no more words to utter. Jungkook is at a loss for hope, at the far end of a tunnel. If he could still convince you, he would; but your decision sits.

So all he manages is—

“I am, too.”

There’s a nod. Your tired eyes. You looking to the side, then to the bed, approaching it a moment later with a body falling so weightlessly. When he joins minutes later, you’re turned to the side, and he watches the back of your head, the mane falling, urging to touch it just a little.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns away, too. 

Until you fall asleep and for the rest of the night, you don’t feel a touch on you as you do on other days; but relying on your remaining senses, you do hear the sniffle. Do register the movements next to you.

One more time for a little, approaching while.

The place is empty when Jungkook wakes up. He’s woken up three days in a row now, and he’s never wanted to — every damn time, the place would be empty.

And he can’t breathe.

Ever since she stepped over the threshold and re-entered his life and you chose the sheer opposite, he hasn’t drawn a proper breath. This isn’t how things should be. They’re switched up, plainly wrong.

The room is empty; it has been this vacant before, but the void is yawning now, tormenting. Feels like it might never end.

A couple sunrises ago, you left with a lasting, gnawing touch. Before you stepped down the porch, your palm lay in his for a minute; despite the hurt, you still seemed to want to leave remnants of what he means to you.

Your hand was warm in his; and your eyes, albeit filled with some sort of cold distance, still carried some of the warmth, too, your gaze glassy. You were pulling yourself together so well. For him, yourself, the confused child clinging to you.

Hana thought you were visiting the grandparents out of nostalgic longing. She thought she’d be away from him for a fleeting moment. She’s too young to understand the passing of time, after all.

So she didn’t complain, but she looked dissatisfied. Unwilling to embark on this little vacation. Pouted at her father, but listened to her mother.

For her, he was keeping himself whole, too — but when your fingers slipped away from his, the heat still lingered. Like a red scald, as if he’d held his palm into a flame. Perhaps that’s what set him off.

Perhaps just as much as when the hole between your bodies widened bit by bit, and you disappeared in the distance after the carriage had engulfed you. The impulse to run after you grew consistently and rapidly, but his feet were cemented to the spot, legs stiff.

When the carriage turned, however, and only then, they carried him down. There was a faint sound in the background, like the whispering breeze of autumn, and Jungkook barely understood what it was until he realised his lips were moving.

It was him, not the wind.

Him, in a quick downward spiral, bedazzled by the lunacy and the tears obscuring the world; repeating something he knew you were already too far away to hear. You wouldn’t register any of it anymore; he hoped you’d feel it somehow.

“Please, don’t leave,” it was, wasn’t it? A desperate, “Why would you leave?”

The echoes in the mansion were suddenly much more prominent. Not just of his steps; his own voice in his head had an echo, too, but it was a lot louder, pure torture. Pressed against his ears, as if he was falling from the clouds and into burning hell.

The sounds were blocked by nothing but the wind.

This has been feeling neverending ever since. So infinite.

And maybe it’s this very horrendous fear that disables his lungs; that he might end up like this, without your touch, without your smile, without the future he drew in his mind every single day. It always, always contained you.

He loves you; he’s told you so many times, but it’s never been this apparent. And it’s drying him out, the goddamn loneliness. Blocking his throat. Shit, this place he settled on for you and his family, to give you the best life possible — its vast size is backfiring.

Because—

Fuck. Fuck. What is a spacious room good for if he can’t fucking breathe?

There isn’t anybody in here to hear him panting, surviving; he forbid it. But the loneliness dawns on him again, and he chants with tears dropping on the ground, not making any particular sense, over and over again, “Don’t leave. Please. Please don’t leave—”

As if his brain got stuck here the moment you left, playing the pleas on loop to drive him insane. His own brain is driving him insane. The betrayal is beyond belief.

He’s losing his mind; he’s well aware of this. Pondering, thinking whether the empty rooms in this mansion compete with the vacancy in his mind. Maybe not.

Because the mental rooms are plenty; his hand trembles to push down any handle on his way. There’s this long corridor, leading to these rooms, and whenever he does find the courage to open one, he finds himself in a void.

And he opens them every day, all the time. When he’s asleep. When he’s eating. When he’s wandering around, downing yet another bottle. Always hoping there are scenarios where you’re still with him, in his arms, leaving the pain behind to steer towards the same eternal love you’d been targeting before you left.

But he comes out hopeless each time. And it’s cruel, how vast the corridor is. As if his mind is deceiving him, making him believe there’s a future somewhere that you’re in… but your absence says differently.

He understands; the rooms in the mansion are empty because you’re physically gone, but the ones in his mind inhabit only him because the joyful hopes faded the moment you stepped into the carriage.

Now they’re filled with darkness and fear. What if you don’t come back? What if you do, only to deliver words he doesn’t want to hear, and then to depart again?

He hears nothing but his own voice in those rooms, and it keeps convincing him of his own barely-there worth, and that he always fucks up and that people leave and that they stay away. Convincing him that this is it.

This is how his life was supposed to go. To lift him up, but then to throw him into purgatory again  because somehow, this is what he deserves. Karmic payback.

The times he ever stops hearing these accusations and destructive statements is when other sounds interrupt them. Which has been rare, since he’s avoided conversations and social touch, except for when it was necessary and the village demanded it.

Luckily, this hasn’t been the case, and he’s been able to wither in peace.

There are still exceptions. He still has his children. He remembers; he tries. But his body is frail. Attempts its best to keep him a good father, like now.

Now, when it reacts to the incoherent call. It’s a quiet cry, a sign of waking up; Jungkook can’t remember arriving in his bedroom, but he knows exactly he’s here when he hears the sound.

Ah… right. He told the maid to get them to sleep and then bring them to their crib only ten minutes ago. He did, right? There’s been plenty his imagination has been conjuring, but the conversation feels real.

Even in a state like this, he doesn’t think he’d ever leave his children alone in this room, if he could prevent it. Sometimes, staff is around. Sometimes, he is. Sometimes, you are.

Were.

Right. Right. You might not return. But then again, you will, won’t you?

You love your children as much as he does; you’ve given all of you to the boys as much as you did to him and Hana. They have captured possibly bigger pieces of your heart than he has. You will return, even if just for them.

And then…

What if you take them with you? Or, what if you leave them here? What if, either way, he has to live a life without you?

These little pieces of him would remind him of you, too. They’re part of you, they’re half of you — but he’d see the entirety of you in them. He does even now as he walks over, watching Jaehyuk stir and Jaehoon weeping.

He hasn’t woken up his brother, but he surely has shot an intense ache into Jungkook’s chest.

Looks like you when you cry. Is this odd? Is it even possible, comparing such round, young features to your more defined ones? He doesn’t know, but he can’t unsee it either way.

And his hands burn and pain, his eyes on fire when he lifts him up, whispering Jaehoon’s name with a shush. There’s a change in behaviour immediately, but it’s not enough. The sobbing turns into quieter cries when he sees his father, but…

There’s something else Jungkook interprets.

Your scent is still everywhere. And for those few days, their way of feeding has been slightly different, too. They’re probably noticing the sudden shift. And yes, Jungkook offers comfort, but your absence lingers, and they understand it as well as he does.

“I’m here…” Jungkook whispers, standing in the middle of the room. For a second, Jaehoon grips the strings of his father’s white cotton shirt, but then his lips arch downwards again. “I know. But I am here, you see?”

As Jaehoon’s sorrow doesn’t lessen, Jungkook sniffles, too, lifting his head for a moment to prevent the tears from falling onto his boy. He takes a couple steps back until he plops back on the bed. Offers a hand to Jaehoon who wraps his tiny fingers around one of Jungkook’s.

Jungkook shakes his head, his sigh tired, and then opts for a nod instead as he repeats, “I know. I don’t think it’s enough either, me being here.” He gulps. “And her being away.”

His throat clogs up. He clears it, the tremble coming back to his lower lip as he asks in his son’s direction, “You miss Mama, don’t you?”

And as if aware, Jaehoon cries harder again, winding in Jungkook’s arms. He doesn’t know what to do to calm the tantrum, doesn’t know how you do what you do that he’s not able to do. He doesn’t think he’s failed as a father. He doesn’t think of himself as incompetent.

But he’s helpless without you. The two of you operated as a unit so far, as one big part of this universe. With half of it gone, he feels like he’s lacking half a brain, not quite functioning.

So he adds, “I do, too. Believe me, I miss her so much, too…” Ongoing crying. “I know.” Ongoing crying from both sides. The adult and the child, hurting the same. “I am sorry, sweetheart.”

And he’s not sure who he’s saying it to. To Jaehoon; to Jaehyuk. To Hana. To you.

To the hurting child he used to be, and the longing young adult that craved for too much. He’s apologising to everyone and over all the mistakes he’s made, all the regrets he carries with him.

And as he does, he’s not certain when his cries overshadow the ones of his son, or when the latter’s finally stop, only Jungkook’s misery still sounding. He doesn’t know how to stop this from hurting and how to nurse two children in a room without you, because you’re a piece of this—

You’re a piece of the picture. With you ripped out of it… isn’t it too lonely?

It is. God. God, the void swallows him whole.

And he doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know where to go and how to bring you back; if he ran to your city now, where the two of you grew and loved, would you appreciate it or hate him more?

Wait…

Do you…

Hate him?

He doesn’t know. How could he, sitting here, breaking down, mind all empty yet filled. Cruel. This is cruel.

So cruel how he forwards his mood to his children the way he learned never to do. How he can’t breathe, can’t think. How his words lose their meaning after a while, yet stay a mantra, still true  but so out of your reach.

I’m sorry.

I messed up.

I’m sorry.

Please come back.

Your seamstress is as clueless as you'd like to be.

It's probably part of her occupation, the cheerful, sweet, chatty nature, or perhaps, she's in that line because of that very characteristic of her. She's always been like this, so you shouldn't have expected anything different today.

It isn't as though the world joins you in your grief just because you're feeling it. Earth keeps moving.

Coming back home alone was hard. Hana was asleep most of the time, but the moment she woke, she sought his presence profusely.

You wonder if she noticed why he kissed her goodbye so often and told her he loved her a dozen times and gulped down the first hints of yearning with a clogged throat and damp eyes.

She probably doesn't know. His adoration was quieter than hers — because she wailed when he didn't come home, hated the surroundings she'd already seen before but forgotten.

Her father isn't around and she's angry about it.

Maybe you should've left her there. She isn’t as connected to you as she is to him, and while the twins might notice your absence, they won't quite make sense of it yet.

And you, you're stuck in this absolute consciousness that comes with adulthood, aware of everything.

Aware of where you are, who you're with, who is missing. Aware of how you won't be able to weep in your sister's arms forever; so aware that having beautiful dresses sewn won't bring you permanent satisfaction.

But everytime you think back to the last days, you break. The picture of him home alone, theories about what he might be doing, how he might be coping. Whether he's crying like you, fallen like you, feeling incomplete because he's in those rooms with only half of him.

That's how you've been feeling. You're a fraction of yourself.

After three days of solitude, Hana has learned to settle on pouting. It’s odd, the contrast between her and the town, always the same. The latter is as alive as you knew it. And Seung, the seamstress you used to frequent, is still the same amazing woman, too.

Grown, a little older, but the sheer opposite of a quiet Suhana, of a dejected you.

Your sister is holding Hana’s hand, the other tiny fingers busy with the fabric of the dark yellow dress. You’re in a cursory surface conversation with Seung, trying to be polite despite everything, asking how she’s doing, how her husband has been.

She got married years before you did, and she was always incredibly vocal about her relationship with her spouse. They’ve been a key and a lock; she’s spread hope for love amongst many other girls before.

You were one of them. And the hope bloomed, even when you were met with hurdles and thought you’d end in misery.

In all honesty, you truly thought you were an exception to the many rocky marriages. Sure, you never assumed yours would end up a constant fairytale; Jungkook and you have your days, too.

You just… held onto hope, more so when you fell for him, and you never ever thought you’d experience such a low.

Seung still tires of babbling about her husband soon; she enjoys detailing her fabulous life, but she never makes the entire talk about solely herself. So you expect it when you soon hear a question back, “Lord Jeon has also always been such a gentleman, too, though. I enjoy his company thoroughly. Is he not with you today?”

You barely manage the lazy shake of your head, but you smile to cloak the hurt covering your heart, flooding your insides. The agony is always searing; you feel it everywhere, as though a torch lit you on fire. Every damn mention of his name makes your body sink.

In this town, the people have gathered that he’s a fragment of you, that he’s right wherever you are. But not today. Today, he’s with somebody else entirely; it enrages you, and yet also reminds you of how much you miss him every sickening moment of the endless day.

But you still act as though the praise towards the wonderful man you know doesn’t drag another knife across your heart. You suppress your tears and nod, agree with her.

Of course you do. You enjoy his company, too. You’re not oblivious to your husband’s charm; he’s the heart of every conversation. The poetry in every novel after all.

“He did not join me this time,” you answer, smiling away the seconds to hide the difficulties in your home. Hana sighs, as though she’s understood that something went awry; as if she doesn’t believe it when you say, “But perhaps next time!”

Perhaps. Hopefully. 

Your sister brushes the topic off with a wave, focusing on the task on hand. You welcome the diverging topic, just in time for the finishing touches on the dresses you ordered. Seung asks you to slip into them for a final inspection.

The first one is a light purple gown; you do not have a clue where you might wear it, but you enjoy the feel of it. Your sister nods in approval, compliments, “This colour suits you well. You haven’t worn it in so long.”

“I have. I wear it a lot back at home,” you say, remembering a similar shade in your mansion, unaware of where your thoughts are heading until you say, “Jungkook got me a gown in this colour once.”

She pauses for a moment. Seung fumbles at the hem of the dress, busy making it and you pretty; but your sister notices, sighs for a second before she responds, “He has a good eye, then.”

“Yes… he does.”

He likes you in almost every colour, though. He’s baptised you with the name of the rainbow many times before. Thinks every hue brings out something different in you; and that you lend it some additional meaning. Your aura and your energy mix the colours in a palette.

“To something new; to something special.”

You nearly whimper when his voice returns in your head. Despite the circumstances, all you ever remember it in is in joy. When his words are followed by a chuckle and dimples. When the bangs, not cut recently, fall into his eyes, like curtains.

You don’t think of the shaky goodbye days ago… rather, you recall the moments before the world fell apart, drenched in sweetness and grace and warmth.

It becomes difficult to stand here, to let Seung fondle with the fabric. To listen to your sister’s praises and watch Hana’s feet dangle off her seat, hitting the leg of the chair with puffy cheeks and a jutting lower lip.

The view is already too much, and you close your eyes, blending it out. Which proves hard when your husband is mentioned over and over again; of course he is. Two halves of a soul… of course he is.

It’s been like this at each visit, so nobody would expect things to change this time.

And every damn time his name falls, Hana looks up. Big eyes, akin to a doe, personifying hope and love and yearning. If… if there was a way to contact him and let her talk to him for only a minute, you wouldn’t hesitate.

In fact, leaving her there with him could’ve been an option. But you need some comfort, too, don’t you? And he might not be in the proper state to take care of anyone right now. You intensely hope he is looking after himself.

But she keeps sulking. Despising the distance as much as you fear it, asking over and over again, and your dam only breaks and overflows when you step down the podium, asking, “Do you like this?”

And she, uncaring, shrugs, asking, “Can we go back to Daddy?”

You take a deep breath. Your skin tingles, a wave of discomfort filling you head to toe. Head heavy, you yet again register the change in your throat and voice, holding back as you try to pacify her, “Soon, darling. We’re just visiting aunty and the grandparents for a little, remember?”

She does, but it doesn’t help. Somehow, it makes her pout harder. Yesterday, she was crying; now, she’s handling the bad mood differently. Maybe this is worse. You thought children forget, that they distract themselves easily, but Hana’s affection is infinite. Integral to her.

How could she forget? You know who you’re talking about. How could anybody forget about him, ever?

You tuck in one of her black locks, inquiring, “Which dress do you reckon I should get?”

Another shrug. Seung tries, “Would you like to take a look for yourself, as well?”

“Be nice, Hana,” you say, “do you want to? You can say no, too, though.”

It takes a moment until she looks up. Her eyes change when she sees the variety presented to her; as if she didn’t regard any of it since you stepped into the shop. But eventually, she says, “Alright. I will.”

She hops off the chair, small hand in Seung’s palm, walks around to take a look at her choices. Her forefinger is hooked in her mouth as she focuses, only coming out, slightly damp, when she points at something she likes.

Your seamstress approves of most of what Suhana prefers before moving to the colour, “Which one shall we pick for you?”

“I like them all,” Hana says. It’s tough to choose until it isn’t. Once she’s settled on one, staring at it with intensity, you understand she’s decided, calling for you, “Mama.”

“Yes?”

“This is Daddy’s favourite colour.”

A tender shade of sea green. She’s right, it’s his favourite. Or at least a preferred one. You guess you can’t escape him, no matter how much you try, no matter how many miles you leave between him and you.

You ask, “Do you want to take it?”

But she seems unsure all of a sudden again. The finger has dropped with her expression, and she digs the heel of her shoe into the floor, yet nodding, “Yes… I want to surprise Daddy.”

“He will love it, baby,” you say, blinking rapidly. You point to the colour she chose. “This dress then, please?”

“Certainly. Measurements?” Seung says, material already draped over her shoulder; she walks over to the measuring tape, readying herself but…

Hana has long lost her motivation again. You see the light dim with each second, and you prepare yourself to convince her to bask in the excitement a little longer. But she won’t. Instead, she declares, “I don’t want to.”

“What?” Seung voices. “It only takes a moment—”

“I don’t want to,” Hana repeats, “I want to go home.”

“The dress?”

“No.” She inhales, arms dangling at her sides, the childish whining painful when she pleads for the millionth, aching time, “I want to go back to Daddy now.”

Fucking hell, Suhana, how?

How do I take you back already?

If you could, you’d step out and curse into the world. He’s too far away. You’re too far away.

You left with a purpose, bid him goodbye to find peace within yourself. Peace with the fact that a woman is probably still sitting where you have welcomed guests so happily before. The woman that presented him yet another child, his blood and soul.

How do you explain to your daughter that returning might hurt worse than being here, and that his expression will shatter you? That he’ll fall to his knees again, remind you that nobody has ever loved a girl before like he loves you.

That nobody will ever find this much adoration again. But that then, a second later, you’ll remember that until you die, you won’t be the only one anymore?

How do you cope with this? How do you bring your child back into this home, in a mood like yours, without a solution just yet?

In that house where he’s grieving like you, you’ll hear the echoes from everywhere, and the pain will intensify. His touch might linger on you, and the walls will scream and the bed will scream and the rooms will scream.

Yell the memories you made there.

The dinners you shared. The food he fed you with his spoon. The times he’d spill soup on you in the process and laugh it off, crack a dirty joke when the tissue drew over your cleavage.

And the times he kissed you at his office door, promising he’d be in the bedroom soon; the times you still knocked an hour later because he isn’t just a good husband and father, but a good leader for his people, too.

And… and…

The bare skin on the mattress next to you. Warm, sweet, hugging you in, lips on your shoulder, your back, your ear, your body. Engulfing you. Under you, above you, with you. The whispered words and the promises.

Vows that he fulfils during the days and the nights. Raising his children with deep-sitting sentiments, turning his own pain into power and using it to bring happiness to them and to you all the damn time.

Sleepless nights, giggly days, dances in empty rooms and conversations in laughter and tears and hurdles and successes.

Every wall and bed and room will scream out the question whether you remember.

Do you remember it all? Everything you’ve become with him in all those years. Do you remember? Do you? Will you ever forget?

Everything falls. The leaves, the temperature, the warmth. Your damn heart.

And it’s then that you can’t take it anymore. Maybe because you see him in your own daughter’s eyes; maybe because she keeps trying to manifest him, as if he’s right here.

So you break. Quietly but aggressively, grabbing her hand as you say, “Enough. No dresses for you. We’re leaving.”

And you do. Suhana doesn’t like the way you pull yourself and her out of the shop. It’s not painful and you’re not violent or rushed; but maybe she hears your altered voice and sees the torment in your face, because she keeps calling for you until you’re home.

Your sister attempts her best to distract you, promising she’ll grab Hana’s gown before you leave and whatnot — but you’re lost in thoughts, still overwhelmed by a flood of memories. You don’t snap at Hana, even though she taps your wrist, asking why you’re mad and where Daddy is, and once you enter the hall in your previous house, you finally snap—

“Get yourself together!” You’re glaring. You never usually do. “I cannot fly to him. Practise patience for a while, alright?”

It shuts her up, but it does something to her expression, too. She’s tearing up, sniffling all of a sudden. Close to breaking, too, when your mother comes out to greet you, and you ask, “Could you just… could you play with her for a bit? Distract her? I just…”

“Yes,” she immediately says, offering Hana her hand, who takes it reluctantly. She’ll be a little angry at you for a few hours. Won’t want you near her. So she obliges. “Take your time, love.”

So you do. Instantly so. Your sister helps, dragging you up to your old room by your elbow, just in time before you finally break down.

She wraps her arms around you as your tears cascade, your chin on her shoulder, shaking, hands unsteady as you lower the sound of your sobs. This isn’t your first time crying here; but it’s the first time the tears blind you entirely.

Your sister lets you mourn for a while, rubbing your back, sitting at the edge of the bed as she mumbles something you can’t make sense of. She’s always been good at comforting you, but this time, she doesn’t know much about the issue itself. Unable to say much.

Instead, she asks, “This isn’t just a casual fight, is it? You had a very bad one.”

“I’m just…” you try, but she shushes you again, tells you it is alright to take your time. You gulp, then start again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“It is this serious? What happened?” She’s concerned, but curious, too. “You still don’t want to tell me?”

You shake your head against her shoulder, and she sighs. You say, “I need to figure this out with him first. Unbiased…”

“I understand. I am here, though. You can stay here or with me… Seokjin knows, so he won’t mind.”

“But… I just—”

“These things happen, love. You know it. Marriage is all compromise and patience.”

You know. Of course you know. Didn’t you have these same exact thoughts all day? You’re aware of the basic foundation of marriage, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

“Does it… always work out?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I have a strong feeling that he and you will.”

“…Why? How?

Maybe she’s saying it because she’s trying to lift you up. Maybe it’s part of comfort, to say things people want to hear. But your sister isn’t this type of person; you’ve appreciated her straightforward nature since the beginning of time, and if she didn’t believe in what she said, you’d consider her switched with somebody else.

Which is why you trust her words when she speaks, partly because the sincerity seeps through them from beginning to end, or because you’re well aware of this universal truth, “It’s rare… seeing somebody love like this even after years. Of course there’s always affection, but… sometimes love fades. His doesn’t. He really does feel strongly about you.”

“…He does.”

“See, you’re not doubting it. Maybe that’s enough for now.”

You would never leave such a statement open to debate. Even if a dozen women stood at your doorstep, reminding you of his lustful past and little mistakes, you’d send them away with a nonchalant wave.

Yes, the situation now differs from such a fantasy to its core, but even then, you know to trust in his heart. It’s just the future you’re scared of. The back and forth, the facts presented to you; in the form of a memory and in the form of a child.

Breath heavy and chest aching, you tell her, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know either,” she admits, voice quieter now. “But— my first instinct would be… to tell you to go home. I think you need it. Your actual home.”

“And then what…?”

“Whatever your guts tell you to do. What are they telling you now?”

You puff out an exhale; you’re sick of crying. Your head hurts, as if devoid of oxygen. “That I am scared.”

She nods, well aware, digs further, “What else? If you think about the situation, do you see a solution at all?”

Thinking about it… thinking about it…

Properly pondering, you guess you’re not quite at the end of the road. There’s a wall in front of you, but it’s shrinking; if you give it an actual thought and look up, you might be able to climb over it. It’d just need… inhumane strength.

“Maybe… in theory,” you say. “Perhaps.”

Short pause, silence cutting the air. It’s still light outside, but the sky is grey again. No birds chirping, streets and alleys quieter. You think you hear a couple voices, a carriage passing under your window…

You miss the noise. You miss his voice.

You miss the way he sighs in the evenings, staring into a book you might have annoyed him into reading before looking up, noticing your gaze. Smiling at you, overwhelmed by love, leaning in as the novel closes and his lips open…

So your answer shoots out of you when your sister asks, “What else are you thinking?” Clear and ardent and brimming with certainty as you say—

“That I love him.”

The smile she flashes is tiny but telling. Something blooms in her eyes, as if filled with hope, and the little, unconscious gesture, manifesting in her expression, returns the longing to your heart.

A thumb wipes your tears before her hand covers yours, and with a voice so soft and gentle, she concludes, “You really do. Go back, yes?”

And you don’t have it in you to consider her wrong anymore. No matter the hurt, you don’t think you should stay any longer at all. You won’t deny that you needed the escape for a bit; but maybe this suffices.

And in hindsight, maybe you knew how this would end all along.

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

tumblr doesn't allow making very long posts due to the 1k block limit, so you can find the rest of the chapter and its 7k portion in this reblog! <3

[captainjacklyn]

Can I make a request a headcanon of Riddle, Vil's, Jamil's and Azul's reaction to finding out that their romantic partner is a direct descendant of the Great Seven? (Like the ones who found and made their dorms?)

Male or Female Yuu/MC/Reader/Y/N please and thank you!

What a wonderful ask, my friend ! I apologize for making this so late, I hope that you will still enjoy reading these head canons if you are still out there. I'll be using gender neutral reader since I wanted everyone to enjoy it but if you wish for a male/female reader only, send in a request and I'll get right to it !

Pairing(s) : vil schoenheit x reader, jamil viper x reader, Azul ashengrotto x reader, riddle rosehearts x reader

Warning(s) : gn!reader, may have some cursing, they/them pronouns are used but gender isn't mentioned, reader is a merfolk in Azul's part (cause you know- Ursula is a mermaid..), also they act similar to their ancestors.

Jamil, Vil, Riddle and Azul finding out that their partner is a descendant of one of the great sevens :

Riddle Rosehearts

When Riddle first met you, he didn't think much of it. Sure you were quite commanding and respected the rules of his dorms very well (which he appreciated) but he just thought it was your personality and nothing more.

When he found you looking at the Queen of Heart's statue, he was surprised to see dissatisfaction on your face. You appeared a little bothered and as your partner he wished to make sure his s/o was alright.

"Is everything ok my Rose ? You seem a little out of your element."

"Ah Riddle, no I'm all good I'm simply thinking about certain things concerning my ancestor."

"Oh, and who are they ?"

"The one I'm looking at right now."

....

WhAt-

he wasn't expecting that, honestly, it feels like a bucket of ice got dropped on his head. Since she is seen in such a positive light in Night Raven College, he will start asking you about her.

"Oh she was a tyrannical queen, absolutely insane with no moral whatsoever. The only traditions we pass down in the family are the rules and leadership qualities, those are taught to the kids at a young age. I never admired her, not once. Sometimes rules didn't even need to be broken for her to cut someone's head off. If she was in front of me, breathing, at this exact moment I would give her a taste of her own medicine."

...

He didn't expect that, not once did he think of it that way. What was pictured to be a righteous royal turned out to be someone who beheaded people for a yes or a no.

It doesn't change what he thinks about you, you are your own person and what your ancestor did is unforgivable.

he's just stunned, and maybe a bit more proud of being your significant other.

Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil are the star couple of NRC, people literally turn blind when they look at the both of you. Dazzled with glam and beauty I swear to god-

He's glad he doesn't have to constantly shout at you for being reckless and ruining your eyeshadow. Not like some people

You were the perfect visual depiction of a queen/king/royal, I imagine you two walking down the school hallway and a red carpet spawns out of nowhere for the both of you to walk on.

Aphrodite has favorites.

You take good care of your appearance, no matter the special/ so called 'unusual' features you carry, you still manage to appear even more wonderful than the Fairest Queen herself.

Rook stalks you follows you around a lot. He would gush at you everyday as you sat in front of the mirror and prepared yourself for the day.

He does this to Vil as well and y'all consider this normal at this point. If you don't, then get prepared to be spooked all the time. Like...all the time.

"My my [Nickname], you look especially splendid today ! Not like you aren't usually, but you managed to make your beauty shine even more than it already was !"

"Well I am the Fairest Queen's great-great-great-great granddaughter/son/child after all."

"..."

"Pardon me."

"Where did that come from ? Orchidia was that in the script-"

Rook will tell Vil immediately, it isn't like it will affect your relationship in any way, he just thinks its a very interesting fact about you.

He may or may not flatter himself with it, but even if you weren't, your beauty does shine without an ancestor to prove it.

Jamil Viper

You are an amazing tactician, I mean, you were capable of coming up with a plan to stop kalim from burning down the dorm 10 days before it had the possibility of taking place.

And let's not ignore your persuasive abilities, you don't even need unique magic to have 200 students do what you want.

You and Jamil are one manipulative pair, but at least you have good morals. Kinda wishing you were there during the entirety of chapter 4 because it would have been over in one episode with no overblot happening at all.

Wether you scold him after finding out is your choice, but if it does happen don't be too harsh about it, his mind is little coo-coo at the moment.

So much that the only thing he catches you saying is :

"...And I don't want you turning into my great-great-great-great uncle simply because things didn't go your way. He was one manipulative and deceiving *sshole who I wish was never related to me at all. He was smart but for the wrong reasons, you are so much better than the sorcerer of sands Jamil ! I know it, and if anyone or anything is bothering you, I expect a full ranting session from your part-" "Wait you're related to the sorcerer of sands ?"

"...."

"Did you hear anything else about what I said ?"

"To be honest..."

"No."

Well that went well.

He is genuinely impressed and a little disappointed about the fact that the very man who represents his dorm is a huge traitor.

You're the one to talk- Lady Orchidia please calm down

He understands what you mean but his perception on Kalim won't change so if you're friends with the guy he stresses over everyday than you're gonna have to learn to live with it.

I repeat, it doesn't change your love for one another, except this time he'll be watching his back a little more. Knowing your advantage against him.

He's soft for you ngl

Azul Ashengrotto

Who are you and why are you so cute together-

Octopus lovers. Oh my god this is too much.

Orchidia you still need to finish the fanfic Shut your mouth and let me die, I finally found my reason to sleep forever.

You will probably have to be a mermaid/man/folk due to your origins but your appearance is your choice cause I'm too lazy to give you one also I have no idea what you look like.

You are once again amazing at convincing people into obeying your orders and both loves and fears your skill.

You are also is source of confidence and pride, if you can be happy in your original fish form than so can he (you just gotta tell him that often.)

He'll find out during a normal conversation where the two of you are in his office as he's arranging the contracts and listening to you talk about your day.

"Oh and did you know my family is related to the sea witch ? I know it's crazy to believe but-" "YOU'RE RELATED TO THE BENEVOLENT SEA WITCH ?!" "Yes...?" *runs up to you and shoves contract in your face* "Please marry me."

He is very happy and very excited, acting like a fan who gets to meet his idol for the first time in person.

He thought highly of you before, now it's through the stars. get it ? cause he thought highly of you ? damnit I suck at jokes.

He's willing to hear you talk about your ancestor for hours and hours, she is his role model after all.

Finds himself very lucky to be with you, even prior to your declaration. You two are just adorable- SQUISHY OCTOPUS !

[bunnys-lil-hideout]

🎫 That dude from Little Nightmares. Also here is a free pass to get FREAKY wink wink

THINNY. omggggg thinny he's so hehehehe.

god i remember watching my friend play the second game right after it released. it was such a wonderful experience seeing a new light be put onto the world, and Thinny was definitely a very nice welcome into it.

of course when he first appeared in the game he was meant to seem like the antagonist, and i gave into that impression.... while also thinking he was kinda. uhm hehe *kicks my feet* y'all know me from my f/o list i clearly have a thing for weirdly tall skinny uncanny men but at least i admit to it.

hes SO inhumanly tall and slender. BIG long arms to wrap around you and bring you close, he can just put his skinny weird limbs around you like a snake. he's probably extremely cold which i will gladly warm him up with my body heat. he's got some dirt all over him which is to be expected in that dingy city. not a problem though i'll take a nice warm cloth with soap and clean him up he deserves to feel fresh and clean <3

i'll help him fix up any holes in his suit and hat. i'll watch as he slides and crawls out of the TVs and be entertained by it every single time like it's the first time i'm seeing a magic trick as a kid. i'll let him take me on a tour around the city, show me all the places that are beautiful despite the horrors around it all, and look at every building and light from the top of the Tower. it would be a lovely dream.

and i could give him so many gifts. i would give him a new suit or a toy he never got to play with, or even bring him food he never got to eat. a nice big cooked fish, a fat burger, a giant slice of cake. i'll watch him happily enjoy the food he never got to experience after what happened to him because he deserves it.

and also i don't care that i'm barely up to his thighs i will do my best to keep him safe around the city even if it kills me. i'll keep that doctor and teacher far away from him as much as i can and i won't let anything try to hurt him. if he does get hurt i'll take care of his wounds and injuries and i'll rest with him while he heals and get him whatever he needs.

and god god god GOD............. kinda spoilers for LN2 for anyone who wants to play it/watch it, that fucking ending...... hurt my heart so bad :[ my poor baby, he didn't deserve to be stuck in that position, to be seen in that light when all he wanted was to have someone with him. i wish i could've been there for him. that i could've walked into that room and just stayed in there to give him company, show him he's not alone.

my poor thinny deserved better <3

ok now the freaky stuff under the cut

i am not immune to how long limbs would wrap around me and keep me in place on someone's lap because Thinny could fully do that. he could grab me from 2 feet away and just yank me from wherever i'm standing and bring me right up against his chest and i would just lose my breath on the spot. his long fingers. sorry his long fingers trailing over my body. sorry his long fingers reaching down to my thighs because he likes how big and thick i am. sorry his long fingers reaching towards my crotch while i'm just relaxing to his gentle touch on his lap and i jolt when i feel the tip of his finger touch me through the fabric on my pants because he's already made me so sensitive with how he's treating me. sorry sorry sorry i need that man palm me so bad.

also of COURSE i'm gonna praise him and make sure he knows that he's loved. i'll caress his face in the softest way and tell him how important and special he is and that i'd never want him to be hurt like that again. i'll give him soft kisses on his cheeks and neck as my hands take off his suit jacket and feel around his stomach under his white shirt. i'll whisper in his ear how handsome and sweet he is and how i'm so lucky to get to be with him meanwhile my hands have unbuckled his belt and reached into his boxers and started stroking him. i'll tell him i'll do whatever he wants me to do to make him feel loved and seen al while i peck kisses from his face all the way down to his hard on and look up at him with such a tender gaze.

also if he ever wants to try and use his powers in the bedroom i'm absolutely agreeing to that cause can you fucking imagine. he's physically in a different part of the city and i'm in a living room watching TV, his arm suddenly reaches out of the screen and gropes my chest and stomach and i'm so startled by it but also IMMEDIATELY turning into putty while his hand slides under my stomach and touches my crotch and slips into my panties and starts to tease the lips and folds until i'm soaked almost instantly and he fingers me like crazy while both the TV and my brain just become static. hello can any one fucking hear me.

also his dick his fuckin dick. i imagine he's gotta be like 8 to 9 feet tall so even if his dick is "average size" for his height it would still be fucking MASSIVE for me even when flaccid cause like what is that, like 10 inches flaccid and 12 inches hard? to him that's normal but to me PLEASE try and plug the whole thing in and hit the back as much as you can please i am begging you so so so bad i need my walls BEATEN.

i like big men a heeheheheh FUCK

[nokingsonlyfooles]

I, too, need this on a T-shirt! I also want to see a big-headed cartoon PriDEMONth mascot who can go to a parade and take selfies with the kids. Kinda like the Sun Devil, but gayer.

...although that is fairly gay already, for a given value of "gay."

But, Christian conservatives, you are bowing to the scary, Sodomite interpretation of that eternal symbol of God's love (and promise not to kill all of us again in a FLOOD) the RAINBOW. Did we ruin it for ya? Does queerness beat Yaweh in a fight? Wow!

Do you remember Piss Christ or am I showing my age? (Scary, amber-hued crucifix under the cut. I do have a rhetorical point to showing you this image, but you don't hafta click...)

Yes, that is exactly what it looks like.

A part of this valuable artistic statement was a question (I'm paraphrasing), "Does the sacred image of Jesus Christ not trump the pee of a humble shock artist? Jesus is not able to make my pee holy? This is all it takes to disrupt your faith in a high power, a jar of pee?"

So, that's all it takes to ruin God's love for ya? Queer people are using it? You don't actually believe what you think you believe, do ya? I am trying to understand faith in my short time on this planet, but y'all are out there cranking out counterfeits and trying to cash 'em in for valuable Heaven Points.

...Also, not to be fair-and-balanced over here, but most allies are not that stupid. Don't be throwin' "how do you get a one-armed ally out of a tree" style jokes into the void with no context. Many of them are Eggs, we want them to hatch and join up, not to feel stupid and walk away.

There are a select few people who are eager to get angry on everyone's behalf, and most of 'em are in their teens and twenties, or clueless celebrities. The others are just inclined to glance in your visibly-queer direction and make sure it's OK to laugh before they allow themselves to do so. You get the same treatment if you're visibly ethnic. That's just an ordinary day.

Mr. Somerton up there is slightly catty and privileged, but he does make very good YouTube content. Look him up specifically, while he lasts, because he tackles adult-themed stuff that the algorithm hates.

(via LJggSRa.png (PNG Image, 1080 × 1696 pixels) — Scaled (67%))

[carmenized-onions]

Ok nooo my ask got deleted so I’ll start again

First PUZZLE TIME!!!! Them having a tradition already and carny being the one who started it is so cute

Tony wearing her jacket so Syd doesn’t clock it but her immediately calling tony out. And the two kisses the cheek kiss and carm being cheeky and giving one at the door who knew

Carm being confused by girl friendships is so hilarious he’s just a guy fr

Collecting all of these like Infinity Stones.

First of all, I hate rewriting things, so the fact that you rewrote all these for me, really means the world, thank u.

PUZZLE TIME!! I did do yesterdays, btw, and I was going to send it. I did end up getting stuck in transit on the way home (fucking SUBWAYS!!!) and then passed out after watching the finale of my funny little DnD show. But I SWEAR I only made one mistake. Connections, you bitch. I hate you. Their ____ Purples really make me,,,, infuriated. And frankly I looked at todays and I just immediately closed it I simply am not down to clown.

I can't fathom a world where Syd did not IMMEDIATELY clock it, these two are essentially her closest friends, she can catch that vibe IMMEDIATELY. Also, wasn't a scene, but like-- Carmen came down instead of buzzing Tony in. That honestly by itself to Syd was definitely a ,,,,, interesting.

If you ask him, the door kiss is Tony's fault. SHE DID IT FIRST!!!!!!!!

Writing. the female friendship. Between Tony and Syd. Has been so fucking fun for me. Because upon kinda drafting Tony up and going okay, yeah, these two will have history I was like-- Sydney doesn't have girl friends her age (Like, Sug? Maybe? But like? She's still a little older and married). That's. An entirely new side of her. CAUSE GIRL FRIENDSHIPS JUST HIT DIFFERENT!!!

And honestly, they're holding back for Carm-- Idk about y'all but behind closed doors my girl friends are calling me a whore every I wanna say 2-3 business hours. (kidding, but like, in College? Not kidding. At all). But I think with the clocking of Carm and Tony, that ice of 3 years little to no contact just melted dramatically.

And also, with Syd not having female friends, and Nat never mentioning friends it's like-- Carmen Anthony Berzatto has never witnessed two young women pass the bechdel test until right now and he's so fucking confused. I loved writing that.

I RECCOMEND GETTIN' SOME BASIL IF YOU GET THE ALREADY GROWN STUFF FROM THE GROCER YOU GOTTAAAA SEPARATE THEM INTO SMALLER BUNCHES IF THEY STAY CLUMPED LIKE THAT THEY FUCKING DIE!!! YOUR GROCER IS TRYING TO CON YOU!!!

Carmen is too strong and if I had less internal fear of cringe, I would be a lot more detailed about his physicality in my writing-- but for now, big man lift heavy thing and move walk in door.

Poor (bad news) bear, he's me when I'm at my second day of work (today) and pretty sure everyone hates me for asking for confirmations of emails.

[panharmonium]

more rambling re: that last post (+ the merlin/will fic survey overview)

because i generally refrain from reading fic while i’m actively writing for a fandom, the only real ao3 reading i have done for merlin is my survey of the merlin/will ship tag.  and the only reason i undertook that survey in the first place is because while i was doing an introductory cruise of the various merlin tags during my first exploration of the fandom (after i finally finished S5 and was able to start looking into fandom dynamics without fearing spoilers), i noticed that a LOT of the fic tagged with this ship was also tagged merlin/arthur, and despite the fact that i personally am more interested in gen stuff, i started to get both suspicious and annoyed about what i was seeing.  but i also wanted to have the data to back up my annoyed feelings, so i made a little spreadsheet for myself and then just filled it in whenever i had time to kill and wanted something to do. 

the data, when i eventually finished, backed up my annoyance pretty much as well as i expected, which was disappointing, but not surprising.

to clarify - i’m not annoyed by the fact that will and merlin don’t have a whole lot of material in their ship tag.  will only showed up directly in one episode; i don’t expect him to be a popular subject.  what i AM annoyed by is the fact that there are actually more merlin/arthur fics in the merlin/will tag than there are fics that actually focus on...merlin/will.  by, like - an extreme margin.

(the rest of this is just me griping about fandom trends.  popping it under a cut so folks can just move on with their days if this isn’t relevant to their interests.)

The Numbers

two quick notes before i get into the nitty-gritty:

1) i originally did this survey a few months ago, but i updated it this week with fics that have been added since then, so the numbers are current.  

2) some of the data below would probably vary slightly depending on who was conducting the survey, so there’s a bit of wiggle room in either direction.  the criteria i had to use [aka what counts as just a ship ‘mention’ vs actual content] would be subject to reader interpretation, obviously, but even with that, i do feel that most stories fell into pretty clear categories.)

so, without further ado -

total # of fics in the ship tag: 145

number of fics that are inappropriately tagged (meaning either will himself or merlin/will as a ship does not actually appear [which is kind of bizarre, but which i saw happen surprisingly frequently], OR where there is only a brief reference to will or past!merlin/will and that’s the extent of their inclusion: 50

number of fics that are duplicates of works already in the tag (ie podfic), or (in one case) a meta podcast about the show: 5

so, that brings down our total number of fics with some sort of actual merlin/will content to 90.

of these 90 works, only 17 of them are actually focused on merlin/will.  

everything else in will’s ship tag, including the 54 works from the previously discussed "incorrectly tagged” category, is either a) fic where will is dumped, broken up with, or otherwise passed over in favor of arthur (and very occasionally gwaine, at least once mordred, once percival, once arthur and gwaine in a threesome, and once CENRED, which i’m sure will would be especially thrilled about), or b) fic where will is only included as a previous/ex relationship (again, almost always in lieu of arthur).  

moreover - of the 17 actual merlin/will fics, 7 still end with will dying or the relationship ending for reasons other than him being passed over for arthur.  an additional 4 are <1000 word PWP snippets, generally written for old LJ summer pornathons, one of which still somehow manages to be...you guessed it - all about arthur. 

in terms of actual one-shots/full fics where merlin/will is the endgame/non-dead pairing, there are only 6 stories.  

i repeat: will gets six earnest stories, IN HIS OWN SHIP TAG.  

i repeat once again: will, in a non-dead, endgame form, gets 4% of his own ship tag.

The Content

the in-fic trends are frustrating, if you actually like this character.

the asshole.  will is an abusive boyfriend.  he is a jealous ex. he’s a shitty friend.  he’s a stalker.  he’s manipulative.  he’s emotionally abusive.  he’s physically abusive.  he dumps merlin for someone else.  he cheats.  in one fic he’s so mad at merlin that he outs merlin’s magic to arthur.  in multiple fics, i watched him literally go off the rails and try to murder somebody.

the fuckbuddy. they’re just messing around, guys!  no, of course it’s not serious!  they just do this for fun!  of course there’s nothing to get in the way of arthur’s inevitable arrival!  no sirree!

the unrequited.  will is actually in it deep for merlin, but merlin doesn’t feel the same.  this does not, however, prevent merlin from using will for sex, companionship, comfort, distraction, etc - until arthur shows up, when will either steps aside in deference to merlin’s all-consuming passion for arthur or is dropped like a hot potato.

“not even will.”  that sentence.  over and over again.  merlin had never felt like this before, not even with will.  nobody had ever understood merlin like this, not even will.   even in fic when they were like.  married.  or engaged.  fanon arthur pendragon must be truly mind-blowing, y’all.

dead long-term relationship.  will was merlin’s husband/fiancé/long-term partner.  now he is Dead.  merlin getting together with arthur is what allows merlin to Heal.  (these stories sometimes contain some variation of “not even will,” as discussed above.)

lastly, in a related phenomenon:

who are you and what have you done with arthur pendragon???   i suppose in a way it’s nice to know that will isn’t the only one who gets the OOC treatment, but it is still really...something, to read fic where will is twisted into an unpleasant, abusive, canon non-compliant version of himself, and then to see arthur, on the very same page, transformed into a gentle, solicitous, kind, caring, equally canon non-compliant angel.  fanon!arthur is more worried about merlin’s well-being than literally anyone i have ever seen.  he is so invested in merlin’s emotional health.  he is so concerned about merlin’s boundaries.  he says things to merlin that no version of arthur pendragon has ever - EVER - in any universe, thought about saying to anybody.  he wants to hear all about merlin’s problems, and he’s all about taking it slow and making sure merlin feels comfortable and loved and worthy and safe (from all that horrible stuff done by that horrible other guy; that must’ve been so hard, merlin; ‘it’s okay, i’ve got you now’) - the man is utterly unrecognizable.  and you know what?  it’s okay!  it is fine to make your characters as OOC as you want.  it is fine to make them better/nicer than they were in the canon.  sometimes we all want that, right?  it’s fanfic!  have a ball.  i will never tell anyone to stop writing what they like, and i will NEVER interact negatively with a fic i don’t care for.  EVER.  do not do this, people - click the back button and move on with your life.   but i reserve the right to be annoyed, in my own space, about a persistent trend of will and arthur’s canon functions being flat-out reversed, in service of merlin/arthur.  not in the sense that canon!will is particularly gentle or sweet, because that’s not the case - but in the sense that will, in canon, is the one who actually cares about merlin’s best interests, whereas arthur is, quite frankly, the ass. a lovable ass (sometimes).  but an ass nonetheless, and one whose relationship with merlin is, from start to finish, an unhealthy, oppressive mess.

The Point

the point of me typing this up is not to say that what people choose to write is bad or wrong.  this is fanfic!  you can write whatever you want.  you can make characters as OOC as you want.  you can create as many AUs as you want.  i don’t mind fic authors writing stuff i don’t personally care for; someone else probably loves those stories!  and i am never going to interact negatively with anything i don’t personally enjoy - i am going to let people continue to have fun in their own ways, and i am going to grumble about my frustrations in my own space, and then i’m going to direct my energy into writing stuff i would personally like to read.

the point is just that i needed a brief second to complain, on my own blog, about my most familiar bbc merlin nemesis (otherwise known as ‘single-ship ubiquity’).  and what i mean by this is that it is REALLY FRUSTRATING that other little relationships are not even granted the tiniest concession of owning their own ship tags, in a fandom that is already so SATURATED with merlin/arthur content.  like - even if i’m generous and use the number 17 for the number of actual merlin/will fics in the tag, that still means 88% of will’s ship tag is actually fic about merlin falling in love with people who aren’t will (*cougharthur*).  eighty-eight percent!  of his own ship tag!  

(to put it another way - the ship tag isn’t supposed to be where you go to watch your character get repeatedly dumped or left behind for someone else, okay?  it’s supposed to be literally the opposite of that.)

will’s ship tag is already tiny.  and almost all of it belongs to arthur.  moreover, a significant chunk of it uses will as a convenient villain (completely contradicting every canon aspect of his characterization), when in the actual story will dies to protect arthur (who he doesn’t even like) and then lies to save merlin (at the expense of his own reputation, and despite the fact that he personally thinks merlin returning to camelot is a bad idea).  his behavior in canon is selfless, and wholly committed to merlin’s welfare, and yet in his ship tag he gets treated like trash.  

the kid can’t catch a break.  and it’s such a pervasive thing that even though i personally am primarily interested in merlin and will as friends (i am pretty romance-averse in general when it comes to media, and i have never written anything that isn’t gen, for any fandom, ever, in my life), i am also so indignant on will’s behalf that i’ve basically become invested in the well-being of this ship as a matter of principle.  it’s not my main thing, and it’s not necessarily how i view the canon-verse, but i am SO IRRITATED about how virtually all of will’s shipfic has been taken over by merthur (and about how maligned will is in his own tag) that i have actively committed myself to supporting merlin and will together in as many AUs as possible.  

(this is basically like when i trained myself to love allison argent after teen wolf killed her off.  i did that out of spite, y’all.  it’s the principle of the thing.)

so, y’know.  all i am saying is that i think will deserves his share of happy endings, and i think it would be nice to see fics where he is not just a stepping stone on the road to merthur or an unrecognizable parody of himself.

more importantly - EVERY merlin ship deserves to have a tag that isn’t completely swallowed by the local fandom behemoth.  merlin/arthur already owns three quarters of the archive.  a gargantuan oil tanker like that can afford to let the little rarepair canoes float down their own streams in peace.

[sheraphic]

hiii could you do one of these instagram things with eve.frsn and harry, i just love her style xoxo ♥️♥️♥️

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

◃────────────────────────────────▹

author's note; hi there anon, sorry for the waiting but here it is your request, hope you like it.

warnings; there can be a few mistakes with the grammar.

「 REQUESTS ARE OPEN 」

It would be wonderful If you ~reblog it~ that help me a lot, it inspire me for write more.

// masterlist //

◃────────────────────────────────▹

Liked by nickjonas, barbarapalvin and 3,633,820 others

yourinstagram walked all day and couldn't find the rainbow

View all 32,712 comments

harrystyles I'm looking at one right now

⤅ynfan992 he calls her rainbow 😩

⤅harryfan672 who gave you the right to be the most perfect boyfriend in the world?

⤅harryfan888 @harryfan672 only on this world?

⤅harryfan672 @harryfan888 you're right, let me correct it; the most perfect boyfriend in the whole universe

barbarapalvin love how you guys match in a heavenly way

yndaily I'm not gonna say who took this picture bc y'all know it already

⤅yourinstagram a stranger

⤅harryfan623 @yourintagram omg hahaha poor harry

⤅ynfan018 @yourintagram like, who's harry?

harryfan540 but- her eyes... so damn beautiful

stinegoyastudio lovely lady

yourbffinstagram saw it from my window 🌈

harryfan092 PROOFS!

⤅ynfan176 @harryfan092 what do you mean?

⤅harryfan092 @ynfan176 that they walk all around the city and no one saw them

⤅ynfan176 @harryfan092 uhm?? it's not like every single person in the city gonna be looking for them... You know, everyone have their own bussines

⤅harryfan800 @ynfan176 exactly! Why someone have to confirm that they were walking?

⤅harryfan092 @harryfan800 bc then it's not real

⤅ynfan176 @harryfan092 omg... Get outta here

lookitsnyoh i'm the blurry spot behind you

ynfan388 everyday passed by without being blessed to be beside you

ynfan729 ok but I want the beanie and the scarf

Liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles and 8,629,820 others

harrystyles In the middle of a rainy june

View all 52,913 comments

yourinstagram all that green and your eyes are still my favorites

⤅harrystyles @yourinstagram I'm blushing. On my way to... Where am I going?

⤅harryandyn guys stop, i can't cry all day

⤅yndaily she's a poet and he's her inspiration

⤅harryupdates @harrystyles love, i think you got a little bit flustered

⤅harryfan723 i want what they have!

harryfan811 when it will be my turn?

kaiagerber can she be my photographer?

harryfan402 everybody, say thank you to yn for took this picture of a lovely man

⤅harryfan331 @harryfan402 just imagining that he posed for it 🥺

alessandro_michele what a cutie

harryfan101 can- can i be god's favourite for once?

cazoff model material, naturally

adamprendergast_ what a pretty boy smiling at the void

⤅harryfan699 now i now that adam is the annoying friend of the gruop

emiozmen @harryfan699 don't even doubt it

harryking may a offer you an umbrella, my lord?

⤅harrynews one fan said he had an umbrella, but he just doesn't use it

⤅harryfan782 let the boy get wet

⤅harryfan226 @harryfan782 YOU DIDN'T

⤅ynfan335 @harryfan782 this is my favorite comment ever

troyesivan my life is brighter now

⤅harryfan602 @troyesivan we need a collab

⤅columbiarecords indeed

⤅harryfan602 @columbiarecords wait wtf

Liked by gemmastyles, emmalouisecorrin and 5,290,214 others

yourinstagram contrast 🔹🔻

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florencepugh = 💜

⤅yourinstagram :)

harryfan222 omg i get it now

ynfan889 this is so adorable

yoursisterinstagram this is a lot of chaotic energy for my board

yndaily we love their eclectic little world

zendaya big fan of your hair

ynfan022 how can i not love this two weirdos?

harrystyles you said crazy pose, not dramatic

⤅yourinstagram @harrystyles your smile it's crazy delightful

⤅harryfan700 @yourinstagram can i be you girlfriend too?

⤅harryfan191 @harryfan700 same, i fell in love because she knows exactly what she's doing

⤅ynfan748 this man won the best woman ever

harryandyn god, i see what you do for others

charlotteanneclark a mood

harryfan882 i really love that he feels so comfortable with her and their relationship to let us see this.

⤅harryfan525 @harryfan882 ikr he finallt let us see this side of him and I'm an emotional mess

⤅harryfan106 @harryfan882 i think we finally understand that he has a life and can love whoever he chooses

rosalia.vt happy but confused at the same time

harryfan441 ugh, they are so foolishly in love

t_chalament it's a yes from me

⤅harryfan722 timothee represents me

ynfan831 she matches his personality so perfectly

annetwist lovely pics!

⤅ynfan029 she loves her 🤍

Liked by dualipa, harry_lambert and 8,190,644 others

harrystyles The route was traced, the playlist was ready; and even like that we get lost.

View all 76,882 comments

yourinstagram told you to give the map and you said no

⤅harrystyles @yourinstagram I wanted it to be a surprise!

⤅harrynews i can't bear too much cuteness

⤅ynfan551 these two are the only couple that made me belive that true love exists

⤅yndaily ow, an older couple having a disagreement🥺

⤅ynfan670 @yndaily i have high hopes for them getting married

mitchrowland I explained to you three times how the gps works...

⤅harryandyn harry and technology doesn't mix well

harryfan661 @mitchrowland he's a baby, you know?

⤅ynfan771 I'm from the future, and i came here to tell everyone that mitch doesn't know how a gps works either

⤅harryfan880 @yourfan771 I CAN'T WITH HITCH

pillowpersonpp oh, to get lost with great music in the background because your boyfriend it's too stubborn yo let you be the guide... Yes, it happened to me too

⤅yourinstagram @pillowpersonpp i hope god receives us both in paradise for having dealt with these men

⤅harryfan720 stoooooop mitch and harry twins

⤅ynfan182 @yourinstagram you're just a genius with your comments! 🖤

⤅harryfan788 @mitchrowland you gf exposed you, what are you gonna do about it?

⤅lookitsnyoh @harryfan788 the best thing he can do it's to bake some bread for her

helenepambrun so that pic was while you guys stop for indications or...?

⤅harryfan693 HELPPPPPPP

harryfan this it's so harry you can't tell me otherwise

harryfan ok but her dress, the vintage car and the vibe of being lost with your lover-💗 ugh, please leave alone with my singleness

mrbenwinston "the route was traced"

⤅harrystyles It was.

⤅harryfan837 HAHAHAHAHA STOP

⤅harryfan681 all his friends are roasting him lol

⤅harryfan716 he's upset, someone quick give him a lollipop!

⤅ynfan682 i really love this side of his fans

⤅harryfan346 @ynfan682 it has to be this way, otherwise he'll throw a tantrum

zanelowe harry mate, you better start listen to your girl

harryfan380 i'm laughing more than i should, sorry for them, but this it's golden comedy

Liked by harrystyles, jefeazoff and 3,190,644 others

yourinstagram excuse the sunburn

View all 38,672 comments

harrystyles sorry, didn't know the lipstick would be waterproof

⤅harryfan806 did he just say that he kissed her cheeks while wearing lipstick?!

⤅traceeellisross @yourinstagram your boyfriend burned you sweetie haha

⤅harryfan992 i need the name of that lipstick, no matter if i have to give all my money

⤅harryandyn I can't, i just can't stop thinking about harry pecking kisses all over her face

⤅yndaily @harryandyn just thinking how funny It was the moment she realized that the kiss prints couldn't be wiped away and give harry a look like 😠

⤅harryfan714 @yndaily shut uppp! And he just giggling like the fckin demon that he is

harry_lambert ok guys you need to stop because i can't spend the whole day liking all your comments...

⤅harryfan782 then tell them to not be this iconic 🤧

dovecameron it's like seeing an angel in her own heaven

ynfan602 this queen and her eyes are the only reason i'm still alive

reiflerpaige you and italy are old lovers

harryfan503 i love that her hair it's the exact same color as her eyes! It's insanely accurate!

harryupdates you dind't hear this from me, but someone said that harry made that neacklace for her

⤅ynfan101 please don't do this me, i don't have enough tears to express how happy that makes me

⤅harryfan559 I KNEW IT!

⤅harryfan883 @harrystyles do you ship internationally? I would like to order one piece, pretty please 🤍

Liked by arianagrande, annetwist and 7,380,721 others

harrystyles Malva thoughts.

View all 82,110 comments

gemmastyles I'll never share my favorite color with you again.

⤅harryfan733 this is so funny

⤅harryfan892 yep, that's something aquarius would do

⤅harryfan019 @harryfan892 no proof but i have zero doubts

yourinstagram Isn't that my white tablecloth you're painting on?

⤅ynfan129 someone is in trouble

⤅harryfan899 no in a white tablecloth harry!

⤅harryfan782 i can see a storm coming

⤅harryfan673 @harrystyles hey lad, i think they looking for you

⤅harryfan018 @harrystyles that's it, you'll sleeping on the bathtub tonight

zoeisabellakravitz Try periwinkle.

⤅harrystyles It's already in my notes

⤅harryfan820 most iconic interaction

anthonyturnerhair need to know where i can get those flower pots

⤅harryfan675 omg me too!

⤅harryfan772 i bet he has really cool items all around his place

⤅harryfan099 @harryfan772 i bet he was an interior designer on his past life

⤅ynfan681 @harryfan772 those are yn's flowerpots actually and you can find them on amazon! 🤎

⤅harryfan772 @ynfan681 wait, really?? They're sooo cool omg

⤅harryfan388 @ynfan681 so that means they're living together?!

mollyjane_x Prodigy

⤅harryfan819 he can sit on a rock and we'll say he's a fucking legend

⤅harryfan912 where's the lie?

claraamfo music, reading, painting... Leave some for the rest of us, the mortals.

⤅harryfan891 right? It's like, why he has to be so good at everything?

⤅ynfan723 And he's also @yourinstagram broyfriend 😩

⤅claraamfo @ynfan723 that's what hurt the most

sammywitte I never knew you knew how to paint.

⤅jefeazoff leave the kid explore.

⤅harryfan662 hahahaha i can't with jeff's comment

⤅harryfan982 @harryfan662 it's like they just comment to roasting him

⤅harryfan222 @harryfan982 and we are loving it!

⤅harryfan116 true friendship it's this

flammedepigelle inspired.

⤅harryfan671 oh, well...

⤅harryfan927 now e news it's going to write a ridiculous post about a love triangle between yn, harry and sharon

⤅ynfan813 @harryfab927 don't give them ideas! 🤫

⤅harryfan927 @ynfan814 omg you're right, I'm gonna delete it!

jennynails delivery will be this wednesday!

⤅harryfan712 harry's nails will be malva?

⤅harryfan991 omg that's so cute

Liked by tchalamet, zendaya and 4,375,092 others

yourinstagram I'm Malva.

View all 42,713 comments

harrystyles In fact, you're the whole palette, my darling

⤅yourinstagram 🤍

⤅harryandyn he loves his little rainbow

⤅harryfan881 yep, that's my heart full of happiness to see him be so in love with her

⤅harryfan092 she is perfect for him. I mean it.

⤅harryfan330 she will take him to the moon for us.

⤅harryfan445 @harryfan330 and all we can say is thank you to the wonderful yn.

⤅harryfan672 @harryfan330 you should stop with that because it's ridiculous... She already took him to the whole milky way 🌌

⤅ynfan168 @harryfan672 omg i thought you were about to say something nasty about their relationship

⤅harryupdates @harryfan672 we thought that too, we were ready to reply back

⤅harryfan610 @harryupdates to fight back*

⤅harryfan777 @harryfan672 your comment was genious

⤅harryfan672 @harryupdates omg, didn't expect my comment will attract so much attention.

⤅harryfan672 @ynfan168 the only nasty thing i could say about their relationship it's that i'm deeply jealous

yndaily yeah yeah, so cute. When is the wedding?

massimobottura Undeniable expression of love.

⤅ynfan220 now i picturing them eating massimo bottura's delicious food... leave me alone please

⤅harryfan688 @ynfan220 this warms my heart

selenagomez Oh, he draw you ❤️

⤅harrystyles He indeed did it

⤅harryfan672 I can't with this man referring to himself in the third person

⤅harryfan339 @harryfan672 he's a weirdo

⤅harryfan980 thank god it's yn's problem now

⤅harryfan100 we finally can have some peace

⤅ynfan764 good luck honey @yourinstagram

⤅harryandyn this comment section it's gold

glenne_azoff now is when you decided to post in b&w?

⤅yourinstagram aesthetic

⤅harryfan771 I'm laughing more than i want heeelp

⤅harryfan821 @yourinstagram idol

annetwist I will need a copy of it

⤅harryfan111 guys I'm crying and it's just 8am

⤅harryfan337 if queen anne loves her, y'all need to do it as well. No excuses

⤅ynfan008 @harryfab337 has been decreed

harleyweir Didn't know i needed to see this, but I'm happy

charlotteanneclark You two put my expectations so high

⤅harryfan723 someone finally say it

⤅ynfan092 now i need a harry to my yn

spaceykacey lovers in their little birdhouse

tylersamj I see a stubble :)

⤅mitchrowland don't give him hopes, @tylersamj

⤅jefeazoff don't crash his hopes, @mitchrowland

⤅gemmastyles stop defending him, @jefeazoff

⤅harrystyles I want to grow a lumberjack beard :)

⤅yourinstagram we already talked about this, Harry.

– comments have been limited –

[forsworned]

[♥] academyau!substitute teacher {renguko kyojuro x reader}

Genre: Slight Fluff, Comedy

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Kyoujuro Renguko/Reader, Giyuu Tomioka/Reader

word count: 2,538

a/n: this is a pretty long read, so read at your own risk of boredom. i guess it could also b classified as a "x giyuu" but the title is just way too long and kind of throws the main focus off. might turn this into multiple parts so let me know what y'all think! also this is just a filler for the requests i have rn i don't want to leave you guys hanging

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"I literally don't know shit about history."

Giyu sighed in exasperation. "You don't need to know anything about history [first name]. The teacher already has a lesson plan and you literally just need to pass out the papers. I just need you to cover for a couple of a days because one of the teachers are out sick."

You groaned as you threw your head back in annoyance, pushing your feet up against the edge of your desk. Even though it didn't look it Giyu was practically begging you to substitute for one of his coworkers. And he almost never asks for favors.

Giyu ran a hand through his hair. "He's super picky with his subs and everyone he's had come in hasn't come back."

"So you're saying that I'm a good pick." You mused, with your head in your hands with an annoying smug look.

"Don't push it."

You scrunched your face in disgust. "I just really, really don't want to Giyu. Middle school kids are the absolute worst. All they do is make moaning noises and forget or neglect to wear deodarant."

Giyu lightly chuckled. Your eyes darted to watch his usually solemn demeanor melted away into a small smile which immediately disappeared when you caught wind of it.

He cleared his throat and continued to speak like nothing happened.

"Anyway, so you'll do it?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

Giyu looked pleased with himself when he heard your answer.

"I mean after all, I do owe you like a million and one favors." You sarcastically mused.

Which you kind of did. Giyu was your childhood best friend and always kept your out trouble in the nick of time. Whether it was you getting chased down by the neighborhood cat, or when you got gum stuck in your hair and you didn't want your parents to find out so he quickly snipped it out of your hair with everything seemingly in place like nothing happened. Yeah you could say you were a bit of troublemaker growing up, but Giyu was like the older brother that always looked after you.

"I'm so glad you realized." He replied cooly. "Be here by 7:30AM. Don't be late, I already have enough on my plate and I don't need you embarassing me."

You used your hand to shoo him out of your office space. "Mhm, you can leave now."

"I'm serious."

"Yup."

He squinted his eyes at you."[first name]"

"Ok! I got it. I'll be there 7:30 sharp." You exclaimed throwing your arms up in surrender.

He smirked in satisfaction. "Good."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning air was crisp as the sun shone down on your blurred eyes. You absolutely dreaded waking up in the morning and despite that you still agreed to be here. Oh, how you hated that man.

"Good morning." A familiar voice muffled beside you.

Speak of the devil.

He was munching away at his raisin bread walking next to you in the most nonchalant manner. Typical Giyu.

"Shut up." You mumbled miserably.

"You know, you could be a little nicer."

Your eyes narrowed at him. Expression in full death stare mode, but Giyu was as cool as ever, and as always completely unfazed by your behavior. But before you could retaliate, middle and highschool girls were practically lining up to say good morning to Giyu, blushing like mad when he acknowledged them. You on the other hand, were getting the death stares and whispers instead.

"Must be nice to be the heart throb PE teacher." You teased, poking him with your binder.

Giyu ignored you as you walked into the building, showing you to your classroom. You ignored the stares of kids burning holes through your back as you analyzed everything. Tons of inspirational historical quotes lined the walls, pictures and signatures of past and possibly current students covered one single wall. You inspected closely trying to catch a glimpse of who the teacher you were substituting for. One person in particular caught your eye, and he was hot. With a capital H. But before you could look at the other pictures to confirm Giyu called you over.

"Miss [last name], can you come up to the front and introduce yourself."

You sighed as you approached the front of the classroom and watched as the students all stood up. As their whispers got louder, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Good morning class. I'm going to be your substitute teacher for the day as Mr.--"You glanced over at the desk and moved the plaque in your direction. "--Renguko is out sick today."

As the class bowed in respect getting their good morning greetings, some of the children could't help but show their disappointment. You noticed most of them girls.

"I'll leave them to you." Giyu stated, and then looked at the class. "And be good to your substitute. I don't want to hear anyone misbehaving."

They bowed as he exited the room and now all eyes were on you. You sighed to yourself.

I really gotta learn to say no sometimes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. It’s not that you hated kids or anything, but they always just see to have so much energy and well, you didn’t. Not even a cup of coffee could save you right now. You watched as the clock above your desk ticked and felt yourself getting more and more sleepier by the moment. Your consciousness fleeting as you lie under your warm blankets.

The image of that fiery haired man popped into your head and your eyes shot open.

You totally forgot to ask Giyu about that hot guy!

You let out a loud groan, knowing that your timing was off because now he would most definitely be suspicious if you asked him tomorrow. The curiosity of knowing that man itched at your skin. You absolutely had to know who he was.

What if he was a high school student, or worse a middle school student who looked very grown.

You outwardly icked at the thought, closing your eyes and scrunching your face in disgusted.

No way. He definitely had to be an adult. Maybe even a teacher.

“The history teacher!” You exclaimed out loud, shooting your whole body up.

It had to be him. You smiled victoriously to yourself, mentally patting yourself in the back.

And you had the perfect plan set up to find out.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had to have looked in the mirror for about three hours to make sure you looked absolutely stunning. Hair curled to frame your face perfectly, and make up subtle but very much enhancing your natural features. You rubbed your lips one more time in the mirror before smacking your hands to your face to wake yourself up. Giyu was not going to be happy.

The morning bells chimed and you were seated at the desk welcoming students as they walked in. You discreetly checked your make up in your compact mirror under the desk to make sure nothing was running and not a hair was out of place.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your blow out. All this work for a man that probably wasn’t even a teacher here.

“Miss [last name], what are you doing here.”

You froze at the voice. Nothing could prepare you for the icy glare that Giyu shot down at you. It sent a shiver down your spine. But his glare melted right off of you as you glanced over to the man next to him. Your mystery man finally come true!

“Oh hello, Mr. Tomioka. It’s pleasure seeing you.” You smiled, standing up. You looked right over to the handsome man right next to him. His hair like rays of sunlight with eyes to match. You could barely contain your excitement. “And you must be Mr. Renguko.”

His smile as big as the sun. Scratch that. He was the sun.

Bright, beautiful and fiery. He physically made you warmer just being in his very presence. You could’ve sworn you heard simultaneous female sighs in admiration, but you were way too distracted by how utterly gorgeous he was.

“Yes, I am.” He cheerfully stated. “And you must be the substitute that was in for me yesterday.”

He took your hand in his and you could’ve sworn you melted at his touch. Finely calloused hands, indicating that he worked with his hands a lot. Not that his physique couldn’t already tell you how absolutely fit he was.

“Yes, I am. Your class was wonderful. I didn’t have any problems with them whatsoever.” You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. This really was the man and it took every ounce of you not to pinch yourself to see if you were awake or not.

“So are you going to tell me why exactly you’re here today.” Giyu chimed in. This time his icy glare had no effect.

“Oh yes, I thought I was still scheduled for today. I never heard anything back from Mr.Tomioka so I assumed that I would head back in.” You lied right through your teeth and Giyu could see right through it.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And I remember emailing you last night confirming that Mr. Renguko was fully recovered and ready to work again.”

You couldn’t see it but Giyu was totally spitting out venom with every single word he spoke. It was almost terrifying, but you were way too distracted by the glow of the man that was the literal sun right beside you.

As if the smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“That’s odd. I don’t remember getting an email.” You innocently put a finger to your lip, and looked upward as if you were searching your head for the memory of the email confirmation that you definitely recall getting.

Giyu’s went from you to Mr.Renguko. And then it finally clicked for him. His shoulder dropped in defeat. He did not have the strength required to dealing with your shenanigans today. He turned around heading out the classroom, raising a hand to dismissively.

“Just don’t burn the place down.”

You gave him two big thumbs up. “You got it!”

"So would you like to observe the class since you're already here?" Mr.Renguko interjected. He motioned to the empty seat right beside his desk and chair.

You beamed at him. "Only if that's okay with your class, of course."

"Oh trust me, they are more than okay with that." He grinned at the students. Most of them smiled and blushed looking away from your direction. You sat there in confusion, but before you could inquire about what he said, he shot out of his seat and grabbed the stack of papers on his desk.

"Alright, class we are going to go over your classwork from yesterday and finish the rest of chapter six."

☆彡

It seemed like forever until Mr.Renguko had settled into his seat while he let his students work together on their classwork.

"I can see why my students are such big fans of you." He mused. You looked up from your phone and saw him warmly grinning at your face. This time you didn't fight the blood rushing to the surface of your cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," He pulled out a stack of notecards and began shuffling through them. "I always have my students write their own evaluations of my substitutes and yours were outstanding. Lots of compliments about your appearance and how you carried the class."

Evaluation? Appearance?

Your jaw went slightly aslack at his words. The only thing that left your lips: "Evaluations...?"

His grin grew. Mr.Rengoku knew that this had caught you off guard but he continued. "Yes, I like to know what substitutes are doing their job and keeping my students in line and comfortable."

You were almost speechless. "Wow, you must really care about your students."

He smiled softly this time, and fondly looked over at his students working diligently and quietly together. "Yes, I do. They're kind of like my own kids. I want the very best for them."

Just when you thought you couldn't admire him anymore that you already did. Hot and caring? It had to be too good to be true. You pointed to the best teacher of the year awards on his desk. "I guess you didn't get those just based off your looks alone then."

He visibly blushed and chuckled at you statement as he rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

You raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at the wall of photos and signatures that lined his wall. "That wall definitely says otherwise."

He laughed a hearty laugh this time. "I don't really think that's the case. Like I said I just look after my students like their my own. They really are my pride and joy."

It really was incredibly hard to not let yourself melt into a puddle in his presence alone. But before you could collect your thoughts, the lunch bell rang and students filed out to their homeroom's and handing in their assignments on their way out. Most of the girls shot you dirty looks before heading out as a way of showing their contempt towards you before the smiled at Mr.Rengoku who was collecting papers at the doorway. At this point, you literally couldn't blame them. Their teacher was a total hottie and you were practically stealing him right under their noses.

As the last student handed in their assignment, Mr. Rengoku closed the door behind them and approached his desk to set aside the stack of papers. He pulled put a box of tissues, picking one out and sneezed rather loudly into it. Cheeks were now a hue of vermillion and he slighted groaned while holding his head.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Renguko." You stated worriedly.

He waved you off. "Nonsense, I'm fine. And you can drop the formalities when were not in front of students. Call me Kyojuro."

You sighed as you fumbled through your bag handing him some cold and flu pills and a packet of vitamin c. "Ok, Kyojuro. You can call me [first name], but I'm going to need you to take these for me and get on home."

He blew loudly into his tissue before tossing into the trash revealing his very red nose. "I-I'm fine, Miss [last name]-- I mean [first name]. Really, I'm ok." He stuttered as he tried to collect himself and get up. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold himself up for more than ten seconds before collapsing and luckily you were there to catch him. He seemed to have been mumbled incoherent words as he laid heavily in your arms. You sighed as you slowly laid him down on the ground and reached for your cellphone to dial the one person you knew could handle this situation the best.

"You didn't actually burn the place down did you?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, idiot. Teacher down."

"Ah, fuck."

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?" 

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

[organic-guacamole]

episode 209 spoilers below

I'm so late today but here it is

I love EJ, he's finally learning to be happy. I'm so proud.

Ms Jenn = every boomer during zoom calls, like jeez yes we can hear you stop shouting at me.

LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKE ABOUT QUARANTINE "these dark times" "you mean spring break?"

ah yes, remember when we thought covid was just gonna give us a longer spring break? good times

SEBLOS

damn the passive aggressiveness from Carlos and the absolutely over it tone from seb✋

CASWELL COUSINS!!!!! THEY'RE THE BEST!!!!

we needed more if this kind of goofiness for the first part of season 2 that only such an iconic duo can provide.

old old movies-

is it even that old, or is Nini being a gen alpha rn-

i choose to imagine EJ being scared of the movie and hiding in Ashlyn's shoulder while she keeps a straight face and then EJ pretending to be tough afterwards

aww redlyn are soulmates.... yknow, if gingers had souls

(please ignore me)

y'all saw how EJ's face *lit up* when Gina logged on? how dare you tell me he doesn't like her

ofc she's no damsel in distress, she's Gina porter, she's amazing.

so do we think she'd be the type to just glare at suspicious people? or bark at them

do they not know that Rini broke up? or is Ms Jenn just wanting Nini to suffer through her heartbreak to make her a better actress....

speaking of, why is Nini in the call? she's not in the show anymore. Unless she is, even after the rose and the song got cut, which would be so unfair to all those that auditioned properly before she even came back but whatever, she's the main character I get it 🙄

big red is a hero honestly, Nini better thank him for changing the subject like that

I can't-

i won't work you over the break-

this woman would 100% work her kids 24/7 if it was legal and idk how to feel about it.

YES GINA USE THAT CHARM

QUEEN

FRENCH QUEEN

SHE LEARNT FROM THE BEST (antoine obvi)

smh the airport lady, eavesdropping on Gina's call.

The way she was so happy to answer EJ's call, "eej"

I love them your honour.

EJ WITH PAINTED NAILS YES PLEASE

great now we need to see Gina, Ashlyn and EJ having a complete spa day and EJ getting really into it and Gina and Ashlyn take pictures of him when he's laying down in a robe with a mask and cucumbers on his eyes.

finally we get to see Gina's side of portwell

the way she considered it as flirting, this is the sign she asked for in episode 6 come onnnnn

no is Asher/jack really doing tiktok dances in an airport-

Ricky is me. I am burrito.

oh Lynne, sweetie, I'm sorry but the blonde hair is not it

is that even the same lady or-

THE BEAN

THE CHICAGO BEAN

THE BIG OLD METAL BEAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY 😭

jetlag is my go to excuse for anything... I haven't travelled in 2 years.

"welcome to the Lynne and Mike gossip show. where we talk about our depressed son that we both neglect in certain ways! And now a word from our sponsor, Nord VPN..."

SO MANY CANDLES

WHAT DEMON IS LYNNE TRYING TO SUMMON IN HIS ROOM-

is Nina becoming social media obsessed EJ from season 1? AND SHE LIED ABOUT HAVING SONGS TOO PLEASE WHY ARW THEY RECYCLING THE SAME PLOT-

Gina smiling at the picture of her family on Instagram makes me so happy, idek why.

EJ's nails are so pretty, we needed to see it more (unless he had it on for the rest of the episode and I just.... didn't notice🧍🏽‍♀️)

oh not the tiktok kid✋

yes ma'am end this strange mans whole tiktok career

sir take a hint and leave

GINA NO DONT SAY YOUR LAST NAME HE COULD BE A HUMAN TRAFFICKER

Ricky, walking in style✨

weird kid, ok then Lynne, can't you see he's this close to the edge?

not all your fault baby Ricky, Nini sucks a bit more

RICKY YOU DIDN'T COME DOWN HARD ON THE SONG-

YOU ASKED WHAT IT WAS ABOUT AND SHE SHUT YOU DOWN-

PLEASE DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

ok but the deleting comment thing was very bad

still don't know if I like Jack honestly

hmmm so Nini's calling herself Nini instead of Nina in her little egg seat, while trying to write a song without inspiration.... Nini, honey, Ricky was your muse, he inspired you to write all those songs, even if it wasn't good for the relationship.

that doesn't mean you gotta get back with him, or that you can't write a song that not about him butttt it'll take some time

the rainbow sticker in her box and her rainbow shirt-

anyways wbk she's not totally straight

Jack are you a criminal?

quick, Gina, check his ankle for a tracker

THE YES AND PRACTICE STRIKES AGAIN

the way Gina wasn't into it in episode 6 but she's used the technique twice now

stole her grandma's Pomeranian-

Jack where the hell did you pull that out from-

the fake crying killed me, that looks like so much fun though

anyone wanna raid a first class lounge with me?

wait so is jack not gonna go in with her?

wouldn't he go in too? help look for the credit card? SO CONFUSED

the first class lounge guy was so into the drama though, watch his face when they start arguing 😭

sorry to break this to you Kourtney, but you haven't even blocked the second act yet soooo...

take that as you will

I love how all of them are totally dissing the dance off

that's the most realistic part of this show tbh

shouldn't Nini have asked how she knew....since the start? why is the fact that her best friend has knowledge of a North high secret now dawning on her...

Howie is sweet honestly, at least he's trying to help. but I stand with Kourtney, don't take him back just because he sang an amazing song, and is giving you a heads up on what's gonna happen...

KOURTNEY IS ME TRYING TO LEAVE AN ONLINE CLASS

I hate school

ooo Nini's writing a song about bad internet connection 🤩🤩🤩

I never lie, except when I do-

son that is the creepiest thing you could say to a stranger that you've been "helping"

2 truths and a lie👀

he's an Ariana fan 100%

called it.

OLDER BROTHER-

WHAT-

free spirit? damn so brother porter was in that horse movie

so has she been kissed or not?????????

I feel like she's moved more than 15 times though so possibly

but then if she's moved so much, and before east high she never opened up to anyone, she's never been kissed then?? damn

same though Gina so let's be besties please

heartbreak president is a great song title idea, give Nini a call rn

but wait

is the no strings attached feeling thing about her telling Ricky she liked him? she thought she was moving away so she thought it'd be no strings attached???

guys I think I figured it out insert the "I've connected two dots" meme

THE DUKE SWEATSHIRT

IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S

OMG I LOVE I LOVE

NOT THAT I KNOW OF???

ma'am did you just kill me

yes you did

Lynne and Ricky have such a weird relationship

YES IT DID SUCK

TODD SUCKS

LYNNE SUCKS

yeah I get that you wanted Ricky to like Todd BUT THAT WASN'T THE TIME

right so we already know that Ricky was so desperate to keep Nini cuz he didn't want to be like his parents, and now Lynne's talking about this-

Richard needs a long hug

yes Lynne, it is your fault. thank you for finally admitting it.

YES DYE YOUR HAIR

BLOND HIGHLIGHTS RICKY WILL RISE AGAIN

"sometimes the best, last thing you can do for someone you love, is let them go."

gotta admit I teared up at that point

not me thinking big red was calling ms Jenn cupcake for a hot second-

Carlos please omg, you're at the "beach" and they're leaving for the pool?

also, why not just do the call from the hotel room please omg

"don't ask me"

"Carlos"

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

big red wants the tea

O M G

SEB IS JEALOUS

JEALOUS SEBBY IS MY FAVOURITE THING IDC

I'm surprised ms Jenn knew how to give Nini permission to screenshare tbh

So lily's been stalking the East high kids and spending time editing this video while she's supposedly in an immersion trip.... right

EJ and Ashlyn's picture is so chaotic, what even is happening there

"slacking off" bestie its spring break, obviously they're confident enough that they'll get it done in time so why not focus on your own musical.

jealous seb = sassy seb

please what if those guys Carlos is posing with are his cousins or something and that's why he's so confused about Seb

6 YEAR OLD EJ I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Nini saying she's obsessed with her ex, that's not weird at all 👍

I can just tell Matt had a blast harassing Julia with those puppets.

Jack please dont be like that, "yet"

chances are you'll never see eachother again 🥰

(honestly sometimes I really miss those friends I made on trips and stuff when we'd spend the day or week together, only to never see them again....those were the good days though)

Ashlyn and Nini should write more songs..... something better than this one at least

Nini: "im good"

cue the Tia Mowry (please I can't spell) crying gif

oh I forgot Ricky was in the show for a hot second

1. where did Gina get to film this without people being around

2. did she just... randomly change her clothes???

ok but the transition between Carlos and EJ

*chefs kiss*

now everyone shut up, EJ's singing

oh i think I'm pregnant

HIS MUSCLES

YES KOURTNEY

I love how big red and Kourtney went from being "the best friends™" to the couple in season 1, to kinda close themselves and having their own plots

sebby makes me so happy

props to biggies editing skills honestly

PORTWELL BEING SIDE TO SIDE I CANT

AND SEBLOS OMG

big red lives for the drama

"wow" so true Ricky

no he is not cute, stop it

"holding" ok that's kinda cute

yeah EJ's a lucky guy😌

jokes aside, it's not that hard to exchange numbers-

keep in touch if you want

ok I really like Jack now

if he comes back in season 3, maybe have him be LGBTQ+ ?

like the only out characters they have rn are Seb and Carlos and they're like the sterotypes, yk?

I'd love to see jack kinda break the mold

Ricky's breaking my heart

that song just hurts

the only thing

now I don't hate Lynne????????

HOW DARE THEY WRITE IN A PROPER REDEMPTION ARC FOR HER

UGH IM SUPPOSED TO HATE HER FOREVER

I mean I don't live her now but she's good

but honestly

"mom can I show you something"

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

THE PICTURE AND EVERYTHING OMG

I'm sobbing please help

Gina saying she's just waiting for the right guy and then EJ coming to the airport to pick her up late at night without her asking, offering to bring her back in the morning so she won't have to Uber, bringing her a granola bar (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE FORGOT TO PACK) and without expecting anything in return???

ms ma'am you've got a keeper right there

her smile at the end was so heartwarming I really can't.

this episode was great.

it felt really short but I liked it, great character development for Ricky, Lynne and Gina.

Cant wait for next episode to see more of EJ being the ideal boyfriend /hj

[khneltea]

Jasonette headcannon #1 section b.

Woah, so apparently y'all like this stuff. Uhm, takes inspiration from @mochegato and @SquareBrain on AO3

Previous

↬ Jason will never admit that he felt scared out of his wits as he rocked up to the shop

↬ nope, nuh-uh, never

↬ the store owner who stood a head shorter than him wasn't scary in the slightest

↬ so, dressed up in his best leather jacket and jeans, plus that old red shirt that may or may not have a bullet hole in it somewhere but was the best one he could find, he opened the door to the shop

↬ only to tremble in his boots at who was in the shop (whether it was anger or sheer fear, he will not admit to either and will deny all allegations of said trembling)

↬ inside was 2 of the biggest crime lords in Gotham, the one from the docks and the one from the underground, notorious for trying to tear each other's throats out, sitting peacefully on pretty pink cushions and enjoying pastries and tea out of tiny dainty tea cups

↬ what.the.actual.fuck.

↬ the glaringly pink (he supposed that was the theme) door to the right suddenly burst open and out comes the lady of the hour, and behind her was a very hot teenage girl (about 15 years old), but for some reason, he didn't really pay attention to her

↬ all eyes were on the two ladies, the hot one giggling away about a quinceañera while the owner of the shop smiled serenely, surveying the surroundings (probably checking if there was a gang war)

↬ her bluebell eyes popped out when they saw him (he says it was because he was handsome, but don't listen to him-)

↬ "hello! Welcome to my boutique, would you like to take a seat while checking our ready-made garments? Or are you here for a commision?"

↬ "uhhhhhhh..." Jason didn't think that far ahead. And it's hard going impromptu when there was a beautiful lady devoting all her attention on him

↬ she smiled like she knew exactly what he was thinking

↬ "why don't you take a seat, monsieur, and I'll help you out dans juste un instant (oh gosh, I'm sorry all you people who speak french who are going to call me out for using Google translate-)"

↬ so he's just sitting there, a tiny tea cup with little black cats and ladybugs on the sides held in his hands as he sees her negotiating a purchase with one of the mobster groups

↬ he nearly sighed in relief when the crime lord by the docks left with the gorgeous girl (probably his daughter now that he thought about it) after leaving a heavy briefcase and a business card in exchange for a beautiful sleek gown and matching accessories

↬ kinda scared him how friendly they both seemed to the store owner and how...warm that look in both the father and daughter's eyes were

↬ and he couldn't help but flinch when the crime lord from Gotham underground (is this a thing-) grins while the blue eyed woman started taking his measurements

↬ "doll, you're always welcome to come over anytime. You're good at business, I need more people like that."

↬ she has the fucking audacity to laugh. Laugh, I tell you

↬ "non, non, monsieur. I am quite happy with my little shop over here. Besides, the young ones would miss my pastries too much if I moved."

↬ he waved a hand. "Those street rats? If that's all that it takes to get you on my side, then consider them to be in better protection and care than those kids Wayne adopts every 5 seconds."

↬ got to say, his heart went thump when he pieced together that she took care of the street kids

↬ she grins "well, you're already giving them protection for living in my block, so that's all I need. Don't worry about the rest, I've got it covered."

↬ the crime lord shrugs. "Eh, I don't really care about the brats. But you, you're the one that needs protecting. Where else will I be getting these good suits that don't tear all the goddamn time from knives and guns? Plus, what's another 5 or 6 men patrolling this area to keep my favourite designer safe? If it makes you happy that they're inadvertently looking out for the kids, then better for me."

↬ wait those suits protected him from knives and guns????? Who the hell was this woman???

↬ smiling in response, but not as brightly anymore, she stood up, jotting down some notes in her book

↬ "alright, monsieur, you'll have to come in to a fitting on Saturday, presumably before your interaction with Monsieur Falcone at 1pm, so would it be presumptuous to ask if you come in at 10:30?"

↬ "not at all, my dear! it's a pleasure of doing business with you"

↬ "also, preferably, don't wear the flashy red suit you have, might i recommend the blue one from the fitting before last week's? Monsieur Falcone would gladly appreciate the red suit blaring in his eyes after the concussion he received recently"

↬ wait

↬ how the fuck did she know that

↬ falcone got that last night (he should know, he gave it to him)

↬ and the only ones who should know about it right now are him, Falcone, and no one else

↬ either this kid was magic, or she was Alfred level shit (he's still not convinced that Alfred is fully human)

↬ "thanks doll" and the crime lord leaves

↬ she turns to him, smiles and everything

↬ "alright, monsieur hood, what would you like to purchase today? or are you still having difficulty choosing?"

↬ uhm fuck ok

↬ how the hell do you talk to pretty, badass women that can probably take over the entirety of Gotham in a day

↬ "uhhhhhh got anything in red that doesn't make me look like a fucking period stain?"

↬ she giggled in a way that you know it's not flirting but just generally found it funny, and he thought it was the creation of the universe

↬ "i'm sure we can find you something, monsieur hood."

↬ proceeds to pull him up (what the fuck she was so strong for such a tiny girl) and lead him to the back room

↬ fabrics upon fabrics upon fabrics lay everywhere in chaos, but he felt like if he moved something, the balance of the room would be upset

↬ finally comes to a bar that ran from one end of a rack to the other, thin fabrics lining it

↬ the blue-eyed girl takes a beautiful black silk cravat with red embroidery that boldly stood out (yes, he knows what a cravat is, sue him for wanting to know what Mr Knightley, Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy wore in the books) and drapes it over his neck, critically eyeing it

↬ in the process, pulling him down by the neck to look at it and being very close to her pink plump lips

↬ uhm fuck what do i do what do i say who am i what is life what the fuck austen you didn't prepare me for this-

↬ "as i thought", she says, "this is a good colour scheme for you, but probably more of a black with a tinge of brown and a more muted red colour scheme for everyday use."

↬ she walks away and comes back with a measuring tape and measures his neck, shoulders, arms, and starts measuring around the torso

↬ he doesn't even register this because of how efficient she is and because he was used to it from living with Bruce fucking Wayne (he won't admit that he was just too distracted by the way her dainty little fingers brushed against the back of his ears as she leaned forward to check the measurements, nor when they fluttered against his biceps and chest)

↬ when she's done, she starts writing measurements and mumbling under her breath, which snaps him out of his stupor

↬ "why did you take my measurements?"

↬ "a good cravat needs a good suit, and what better than for me to make a matching one when I have the time and resources to do it?"

↬ she fucking grinned at him like a devious minx who knew more about him than she should and he melted a bit. 

↬ just a little bit.

↬ turning around, she stuck her hand out, still smiling like a fucking seductress

↬ "I'll be making your suit and cravats, let's hope to a wonderful relationship, it's going to be a pleasure working with you."

↬ he tried to match her smile, but ended up feeling like a dork with his heart beating 200 times a second. and he felt like an even bigger dork when he took her hand and gave her a small kiss on the knuckles. "believe me, the pleasure is all mine, dove. might i dare, i fain would ask, for your sweet name? that while a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, i feel that yours would double in so."

↬ she smiled back at him.

↬ "why, good sir, it is a good show of faith in the honey to the flower of life, as Hugo quotes, but I wish you would take me to dinner first before such matters. My name, you ask? It is Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

↬ He smirked. "My name is Jason Todd."

↬ "I know, Monsieur Hood."

↬ "Wait, how the fuck do you know-"

[emerald-echeveria-plant]

All hail

Sophie, humming while brushing her hair: hmmm..

Jim, walks up behind her and covers her eyes: guess who..?

Sophie, playfully: oh gee I don't know, Lukas maybe?

Jim: oh please you already know who it is babe. *Uncovers her eyes*

Sophie: I know, I was only teasing *gives him a peck on the cheek*

Jim: I wanted to give you something that I bought.

Sophie: hm, what is it..?

Jim, pulls out a shell small jewels necklace with small jewels: tada!

Sophie: Jim it's lovely! Thank you..

Jim: I was in the market today and was thinking about a certain someone when I saw this beauty. I thought to myself, huh, who do I know is as beautiful as this necklace that I found.. and you know who said it was..?

Sophie, playfully: I can't seem to put my finger on it.. 🤔

Jim: It was you.

Sophie: oh Jim, you're so sweet.. *hugs him*

Jim, hugs her back: I know.

//The two lean in for a kiss until Lukas pops his head in, sharing a hug with the two.//

Lukas: YAY! Group hug!! What are you guys talking about??

Jim, displeased: oh, hey Lu, were just having an intimate moment.. but it's fine, its whatever.

Lukas: whoops! Sorry about that, didn't mean to ruin the moment. *Rubs the back of his neck*

Sophie, giggles: it's okay, maybe next time Jim *kisses his cheek softly*

Jim, blushes softly: thanks babe.

Lukas: anyway, came to tell you all, Silver and Elinor made breakfast.

Sophie: we'll be there in a while, just gotta finish up getting ready.

Lukas, nods: aight, see y'all later! *Leaves the room*

Jim: now that we're alone.. mind if I can get that kiss?

Sophie: okay you can.. *Gives him a peck on the cheek* now get out because I'm going to change.

Jim, shrugs: whatever you say babe! *Leaves the room*

//Jim walks into the dining area where everyone was sitting at the table. He sits next to Ollie. Ollie notices the lovey dovey look on Jim's face.//

Ollie: Something on your mind Jim?

Jim: huh? Oh it's nothing.. just thinking about how I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

Ollie: what did you win the lottery or somethin'?

Emma: more like the lottery of l o v e

Jim, playfully: pfft yeah right.. Just because I'm with the most beautiful, intelligent, kindest girl in the world doesn't mean- wait.. yeah you're definitely right.

Emma, giggles: remember to have me as a bridesmaid at your and Sophie's wedding ;) *goes to sit down next to Jim*

Jim: that won't be for a while..

Elinor, places a bowl of porridge in front of Jim: aw young love, a precious thing to cherish. Reminds me of when me and Silver were younger. Butterflies in our stomachs and completely all over each other.

Silver: you act as if we still don't do that now.

Elinor: oh I know.. were just not young anymore. *Kisses Silver on the cheek*

Silver: like that makes a difference *hugs her from behind*

Fisch, jokingly: you two love birds gonna join us to eat or make out in the middle of breakfast?

Elinor: heh, you're right. Let's sit down Silver.

//Just as they were about to seat themselves, a comet had scrapped by the chip. Creating a large hole on the side of the ship.//

Silver: oh you've got to be kidding me!

Cetus: huh.. maybe I shouldn't have parked here.. sorry Silver.

Silver, sighs: I don't blame ya lad. No one could've predicted this happenin..

Andrew: we should go to Montressor to get that fixed up. It isn't too far from here.

Silver: I just hope we'll be able to make it.

//Sophie had finally finished up changing. She heard the commotion and worried something bad happened. Sophie rushed towards Jim.//

Sophie: what's going on? Is everything ok?? Jim, are you okay???

Jim: Babe, I'm fine! We just had a "little" accident on the ship.

Sophie: Little??! It felt like we crashed into something!

Jim: ummm.. more like something crashed into us.

Sophie, sighs: okay, this is fine.. We're going to be okay right..?

Jim: of course we are! They're just going to stir the ship towards Montressor, they'll get it fixed then bata bing, bata boom! It'll be fixed up and it'll be like the damaged never happened.

Sophie: I sure hope they do.

//A few minutes went by and Cetus managed to stir the ship towards a docking area. After having a conversation with a repairman, a majority of the crew left the ship. Deciding to explore or purchase since they were on Montressor.

Sophie and Jim decided to take a walk. They held hands as the two looked around the many shops and stands.//

Jim: Do you want to get something to eat Sophie? You kinda missed breakfast back there.

Sophie: oh, um, sure!

Jim: what should we get?

Sophie: hmm, how about.. a smoothie! I just want something light and easy to carry around for now.

Jim: Okay! Let's go!

//The two got into a line at a smoothie stand. As they waited, something caught the eye of Sophie. A few feet from the couple was a group of people reading newspapers. They seemed panicked as they chatted about what was in the news. Interested, Sophie walked over to the newspapers.//

Sophie, picks up a newspaper: huh?

//On the front cover showed a cryptic image of a woman with black hair in a red and black dress. They were holding to what appeared to be a staff. Next to them was a green woman with pink hair. The image couldn't make out what she was supposed to be. Maybe like a plant?//

Sophie: says here that the proclaimed dead Queen Hatred and her henchman Veronica have been spotted inside of Amoretia.. huh? Never heard about this lady before.

???: HEY!

//Sophie turned around to see a guard standing a few inches away from her.//

Guard #1: You! You're coming with me!

Sophie: uh.. no..?

Guard #1: you have to. They've been looking for you.

Sophie:

Sophie: who?

Guard #1: The high counsel of Terra. Now come with me! *Grabs Sophie by her shoulder*

Sophie, tries to jerk herself out of his grip: get your hands off me!

//Jim, who was about to purchase the smoothies, quickly turned his head when hearing Sophie yell. He ran over to her and the guard.//

Jim: you heard what she said! Let go of her!

Guard #1: can't. The high counsel told me not to.

Jim: high counsel??

Cetus: what is going on around here?

//The others had arrived when seeing Sophie and Jim in danger.//

Guard #1: don't I recognize you..?

Cetus: No, I don't believe we've met.

Guard: Wait, I do know you! You're that cursed cephalopid that stole from Terra's merchant ships!

Cetus:

Cetus: it was someone else.

Guard: I'm not letting you go this time! You and your entire entourage are coming with me!

Silver, smugly: oh really? You and what ar-

//A bunch of other soldiers pop out of nowhere.//

Silver:

Silver: I didn't even get to finish my sentence and you already knew what I was going to say.

//In the next scene, everyone except for Sophie were in the dungeon of the Terran castle.//

Valentino: why am I here?? I'm not a criminal like the rest of you!

Andrew: I'm pretty sure coercing with theives and pirates still counts as a crime.

Valentino: what?! I don't know that!

Elinor, sighs: hopefully our trials are fair and they actually give us, I don't know, maybe a few months behind bars? Then again chances of that are very low.

Valentino: you mean we'll be sent to the gallows??? But I still have some unfinished designs to do! Oh this is horrible!

Silver: oh shut it for once Val!

//In private meeting room of the castle, the counselmen were standing in front of Sophie.//

Sophie; who are you people? Why'd you put my family and boyfriend in jail???

Counselman #1: they were wanted criminals that deserved to be locked up.

Sophie: let them go! I demand it!

Counselman #1: you are so much better than them, why do you affiliate yourself with such hooligans?

Sophie: because I love them!

Counselman #2: Miss Sophie, do you know about your royal heritage?

Sophie: royal.. heritage..?

Counselman#2: hm, well you're father was the brother of Queen Illysa. Making him a-

Sophie: prince..?

Counselman #1: correct

Sophie: So technically I'm a.. princess..?

Counselman #2: also correct.

Sophie: I- I-.. why..?

Counselman #1: we need your help Miss Sophie.

Sophie: I don't understand.

Counselman #1: Queen Illysa has been turned to stone and we need your help guidance!

Counselman #2: yes certainly! We need your guidance on how to defeat Hatred!

Counselman #3: what?? I thought we agreed that we'd make peace with her??

Sophie: I-

Counselman #2: no, we need her to wage against Hatred! Why would we make peace treaty with that lunatic??

Sophie: um-

Counselman #3: because Hatred is going to kill us all once she gets her army back! Listening to her demands is the way to go!

Sophie: can I-

Counselman #1: enough out of the both of you! We need her guidance!

Counselman #2: yes with war!

Counselman #3: no, peace!

Counselman #2: war!

Counselman #3: peace!

Counselman #2: WAR!

Counselman #3: PEACE!

Counselman #2: WAR!

Counselman #3: PEACE!

Sophie: F*CKING SHUT UP!!!

//All counselman look at her with a shocked looks on their faces.//

Sophie: please... As your queen.. princess.. whatever.. can you let my family go?

Counselman #1: but they're-

Sophie: I KNOW WHAT I SAID!

Counselman #1: of course your majesty.

//Down in the dungeon, everyone seemed to accept the fact that they were going to get hanged. Except for Valentino.//

Valentino: I can't, I can't! This isn't happening!

Silver: Just say you're prayers. You'll feel less scared.

Valentino: there's so many things I haven't done! Like making a gown for a princess or skydiving or um, uh- I CAN'T DIE THIS SOON!

Guard, unlocks the door and opens it: congratulations, you've all been let go by the queen.

Cetus: the queen? Huh.., she most be feeling extra generous today.

Valentino: YES! FREEDOM!

Guard: not so fast horn head, she wants to see you all.

Cetus: nevermind. We're doomed.

Valentino: ಥ_ಥ

//All of them went to a private meeting room. They opened the doors to see Sophie and the other counselmen.//

Jim: Sophie! *Tries to run towards her*

Counselman #2, stops Jim: now what do you think you're doing???

Jim: huh?

Counselman #2: what? You're not going to bow to your queen? Show some respect!

Jim, looks at Sophie; Sophie..?

Sophie, bows her head: it's true.

//Jim looked very shocked. He tried to take in this new information but he had so many questions. Did she now she was a queen? Why couldn't she tell him?? Or why did they need her now??//

Counselman #2: didn't you here me boy? Bow before-

Sophie: that is unnecessary. Now, please leave us.

Counselman #1: what about Hatred? What will we do and prepare for?

Sophie: I'll figure that out later. I want to talk with my family first.

//The counselman #1 nodded as he and the other counselmen left the room. As soon as they left, Jim went up to Sophie.//

Jim: what the heck is going on??

Sophie: I don't know! They want me to handle a situation with a lady named Hatred?? I don't even know who that is! I don't know if I should go to war or peace but either one seems like a bad option!

Jim: babe calm down! You can think about it later...

Sophie, whimpering: then all of a sudden I'm made a queen and I found out my dad was the brother to the queen and I- I- *falls to her knees* all of this info is too much for me right now..

Jim, gets on his knees: It's gonna be okay, I promise. We'll figure this out together!

Emma: Jim's right! We've got your back Sophie!

Victor: absolutely! If you need some advice just tell us!

Elinor: you know this Hatred lady kinda sounds familiar..

Cetus: you know something about her Elli?

Elinor: From what I learned, she was just a myth at the time. A queen that lived five hundred years ago and almost had full control of the etherium. She was hell-bent on getting rid of all love in the etherium which is why she wanted to take over the etherium in the first place-

Jeremiah: wait, wait.. you're telling me this queen wanted to get rid of all love? What kinda lunatic would do that!?

Emma: almost like it's similar to trying to achieve class equality by killing rich people.

Jeremiah: yeah, I know right?

Emma, looks at him confused: oookkaay..

Elinor: but anyway, this Hatred is a big deal. Legend says she never lost a battle or war, created her own henchman, and was able to conquer multiple planets.

Cetus: Well, Hatred has clearly never met us before. We'll take her down! She'll be so easy to defeat because I mean come on, there's a ton of us and one of her. It's not like she has an army.

Elinor: She has an army.

Cetus:

Cetus: as long as we believe in ourselves we'll win!

Silver: yeah, that believing we'll take us right to the graveyard..

Valentino: I think we should let Terra's army handle it and maybe come up with a battle strategy?

Elinor: Probably. Even if we make peace with that looney bin, she'll ask for the keys to the Terran empire. Then she'll try to conquer the rest of the etherium.

Sophie: wait.. we have to fight her.

Everyone: WHAT?!

Sophie: Using an army won't be enough to take her down. If they couldn't do it in the past, then we can't make the same mistake. We have to make a plan to get rid of her by any means!

Jim: Sophie, are you sure about this?

Sophie: positive.

Elinor: Hm, maybe if we try ambushing her we can take her by surprise and get the job done! That's how they "killed" her in the past! But I'm sure we'll manage to get the job done.

Cetus: sounds like a plan! I'm in!

Andrew: me too!

Jeremiah: let's kill this tyrant!

Emma: heck yeah!

Fisch: I'll die trying if it means getting the job done!

Ollie: Hatred won't even know what hit her!

Lukas: She's going down!

Nomura: Destroying Hatred will be a walk in the park.

Lyka: Question, after we kill her can I take her jewels?

Elinor: Yes Lyka.

Lyka: LETS GO!!!!

Jim: I'll do it if Sophie's up for it!

Sophie: Honey I'm always down to kick some ass.

Valentino: um, I'll just stay here...

Silver, sighs: Alright let's go!

Elinor: I can't wait to beat someone up! It's been so long!

Silver: um.. yer not going lass.

Elinor:

Elinor: what?

Silver: I can't risk you getting hurt. We have cubs for goodness sake. You need to stay here and watch over them while we're gone. You understand lass?

Elinor: okay.. I understand.

Silver: I'm only doing this because I love you and our cubs..

Elinor:

Elinor, smiles softly: then go get em' you big softie! *Kisses Silver*

//Silver kisses her back. They others waited around awkwardly waiting for them to finish.//

Cetus, coughs fakely: kinda running on a schedule here guys.

Elinor, pulls back and awkwardly rubs the back of her neck; oh yeah right, sorry.

Silver: be safe darlin'

Elinor: and you be careful.

//And with that, the heros set off on another ship that the Terran empire owned. They sailed off.//

Silver: where exactly are we going Sophie?

Sophie: a planet called Amoretia. Its gonna be a while so we should plan our strategy on how to take down Hatred.

Silver: aye your highness!

//They sailed for the planet Amoretia. With Sophie contemplating if this was a good idea or not. Well it was too late to back out now. Time to go take down this fool...

Yet as they sailed, in an office on another planet, was a mysterious person sitting at their desk.//

???, Reading a newspaper: huh, says here old Queenie finally found a way to come back. At last, I was starting to think she'd never show up.

//Another person walked into the room, standing at the doorway.//

???: You wished to see me sir..?

???: I did. I want you too set sail for our ship. We're going to Amoretia.

???: Um, can I ask why sir?

???: Hatred is back and I taste an opportunity.

???: If you don't mind me asking, of what kind sir?

???: An opportunity to finally get all the riches I desire. As well as boost my position of power. And that hot-headed queen is going to help me get there. Wether she likes it or not.

???: Right. I'll go prepare the ship sir.

//the unknown person walks out of the room. The first unknown person placed the newspaper down on their desk.//

???: This etherium is going to become mine..

//Their snake like tongue sizzled out as their slit eyes lit up the room.//

To be continued...

((Hatred, Elinor, Valentino, and Jeremiah belong to me

Cetus and Andrew belong to @aalbliii

Sophie belongs to @sleeplessdreamer14

Emma belongs to @the-weirdos-mind

Lukas belongs to @wallymcflubberfins

Lyka belongs to @princssealexis165

Fisch belongs to @komatheterrible

Ollie belongs to @sailingthespiral

Nomura belongs to @authorchanlove))

[pixie-cocaine]

ATEEZ Reaction To: Catching them off-guard by being naked

Hii, I've noticed your requests are open. And i've been seeing your Ateez reactions recently, which are amazing. :D I just wondered, do you think you could do an Ateez reaction where their S.O. walks into the room naked while they are playing a game, working on music etc? (Kind of like that new Tik tok trend going around atm) x

Guuurl, sorry I waited so long to actually do something about this ask lol, but hopefully this will make you happy :)

Songs Listened To: X by CODE KUNST + LEE HI, FXXK It by BIGBANG, Dante’s Creek by THEY + DEAN, Baby Don’t Stop by NCT, Love Talk - Wayv, A Little Death by The Neighborhood

Hongjoong ♡:

• This man was straight vibing and your sneaky ass just HAD to do something

• “Joong.”

• “Yeah?” he didn’t look up from the small journal, with which he was jotting down lyrics for a future song he was to produce for

• He kept his eyes trained on the pages

• And uh-uh, that wouldn’t do 😤

• You rolled your eyes and waltzed over to the boy, putting a hand on the shoulder of the chair so you could swing him around to face you, an eyebrow raised

• “Look at me.”

• And he sure as hell did dafdsaffwq

• Face said :O

• Doesn’t matter how many times he sees your nude body, still looks like a kid in a candy store lol

• To say he was completely distracted would be a huge understatement

• Hanky panky in his mini studio? Yessir

Seonghwa ♡:

• Looking at this gif and listening to a slowed sexy song is gonna kill me istg

• Also, who let him act like a little hoe in their comeback? Keep your shirt down, mister, it’s not safe

• Gorl has nothing to do in his sparetime because he’s not too big of a gAMeR, but he does like to play phone games when he’s especially bored

• Would probably be playing like fuckin uhhhh candy crush or something when you said “lemme do sum a lil crazy 😌💅“

• You were kinda just curious to see what his reaction would be if you showed up witcha tiddies out

• So you got out the shower and half-assedly threw on a silk robe that Hwa got you for your birthday, not tying it or anything, but rather letting it slip off your damp shoulders while the front sat open and displayed your body for all to see

• His reaction when you leant against the doorframe and fake pouted?

• Immediate 📉

• Everday and night he’s gon chase you frfr

• “C’mere...,” He’d mumble, tossing his phone to the side 

• Level thirty-seven could wait ;)

Yunho ♡:

• Playing pc games at home is one of his favorite things to do (He’s even said so)

• PC games are his go-to when he gets bored of console

• So he’s constantly in his lil gaming room so that if you’re ever sleeping, he doesn’t wake you up

• He was on a multiuplayer session of Valorant when you decided to ruin his gaymer grind

• F in the chat boys

• “Yunho?”

• “Yes?” He stops his hastily typed directions to his game buddies in favor of giving you a quick glance from his chair, and has to look over again to make sure he's seeing things right

• Yeah, he was definitely seeing the pretty rise of your breasts and smoothness of your thighs, revealed from the towel now on the floor, right. Especially the way both of those lovely attributes were becoming larger as you approached him

• "W-woah!" He rushes to shield his eyes, though you only giggle and swivel his chair around in order to straddle him, removing his hands from his face

• "What? Am I too repulsive to?"

• "No! No it's just...," Yunho trails off, letting out a shaky breath and trying his best to not stare so obviously. Literally just paying attention at anything but what you wanted him to

• You only grin, tilting his chin to you face you head-on, "It's ok to look, baby. Don't be so shy"

• a forgotten game and heated chair sex is what would lead to your surprise

• kiss kiss for baby 😘

Yeosang ♡:

• We need more Yeosang gifs, this is ridiculous y'all ;(. Also, we're just... Not gonna talk about San on the side 💀

• Oh oh! And Yeosang getting bolder on stage is my favorite thing

• soooo snowboarding

• Yeosang said he likes to do that in his free time

• He'd just got a new custom board, which the front had lovely baby blue dripping forest face and the meaning of his name painted in black for the back, "Sound Resonating From A High Point."

• He was waxing it in the kitchen with it sat atop the island for easier space when he felt your arms slide around his waist, to which he smiled at, still continuing his work

• "Hello there," he mused

• "Baby, what would you do if I told you I was naked?"

• bitch hUH??

• He really did not waste time with turning in your hold and IMMEDIATELY looking down to see what you're wearing

• He chuckles upon , giving a cat whistle before bending down to set you on top of the counter

• "What's this for?"

• "Bored," you purse your lips, allowing yourself to lean back on your forearms as you spread your legs, "And you seemed like a good time-passer"

• Yeosang hums, falling to his knees easily enough and pulling you towards the edge of the island, then presses an affectionate kiss to your inner thigh

• "Fair enough"

San ♡:

• San likes to spiffy up on his English, which is still pretty hard for him even if you assure him that he's doing just fine when he speaks it around your family

• That being said, you'll sometimes catch him at the table with a textbook in front of him and a language journal by the side that he uses to write small romanizations

• You were particularly bored today. And damn, was San looking good with his messy black hair and shirtless torso. He never really did wear shirts around the house.

• "Sannie," You sang from the doorframe, fresh out of the shower and a bit sexually frustrated considering San hadn't touched you for a couple weeks due to your busy schedule

• He hummed in acknowledgement, jotting something down in the journal as he alternated between both the book and notebook

• You knew he was busy but his English really wasn't bad, so it didn't need to be now. It could wait a bit longer

• Sighing, you drop the towel from your body and fling it at San, which makes him jump and pull it from off of his head, looking towards you immediately and gasping

• You put a hand on your hip, giggling at how he tries to calm himself down

• lol goofy boy

• "C'mon, I know you're tired, I can help you relax," you gesture with a finger in a beckoning motion, and like he was already planning on it, he hops up from his seat and follows you back to the bedroom

• sorry if this was kinda boring lol, let's just San could have literally any reaction and frankly, this is probably the most tame he would be

Mingi ♡:

• Like Yunho in a lot of ways

• He does like to play games (probably PC, too), so you already know he'd be mashing that controller in the living room lol

• "Aww man, are you kidding me!?"

• Mingi gets shy, especially when it comes to you, so when you decided it'd be a good idea to step in front of the screen while he was playing Zelda with the towel around your body held open, he was a visual representation of keyboard mashing

• "Woah—Ohmygod-" [insert Minnie baby accidentally throwing his controller in his haste to cover his eyes]

• "You don't want me?" You ask, pouting and tilting your head

• His response is spreading two of the fingers across his eyes to peek, nodding his head frantically but trying to find the right words so he doesn't make you sad, "You just scared me is all! I don't wanna be rude by looking when you don't want me to or anything..."

• He takes his fingers away to hold them out instead, making grabby hands until you smile and crawl into them, in turn, climbing on top of his lap and letting him press his face into the valley between your breasts so he could kiss the skin there while looking at you

• "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea," he mumbles, nuzzling his head farther down

• "No baby, you're fine," You reassure him with a hand ruffling the strands of his hair

• sweet hanky panky alert 🚨 sweet hanky panky alert 🚨

Wooyoung ♡:

• it's the large ass gif of Woo and his ponytail for me

• Oh and yeah, I know this doesn't quite fit theme of YOU walking in on them to flash your boobies but you're gonna keep your mouth shut and pretend it does 😏

• Another gamer.. damn this is getting repetitive

• hmmm

• Dance practice it is! 😃

• Woo doesn't like repeatedly practicing the same moves over and over again, but he did like the progress he made with each re-do, so he supposes he'll bear with the exhaustion

• Well.. obviously not now, because he's just walking through the bedroom door when he finally registers that you're sitting on the bed, lying on your stomach and scrolling through your phone with a leg raising your body go the side

• You snap your head to look at him, "Ah, there you are," you grin, pushing yourself up to a sitting position, "Thought you were gonna come home late again"

• Wooyoung let's out a snort as he closes the door behind him and drops his dance bag to the side, already taking his inky black hair out of the ponytail it was previously in and shaking it loose

• "What a nice surprise"

Jongho ♡:

• No thoughts, only buff babie

• And how he sung "sex in the morning baby" with a scary amount of aggression

• lol it makes sense that sweetie likes to play racing games on his computer

• LITerally so precious ;(

• Same trope (yes I'm a disappointment); Jongie plopped onto his lil chair with a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and headphones on that cute little head of his

• He said "I love playing car games, vroom vroom y'all 😤"

• And you said "I love playing surprise games, yes yes 😈"

• Gorl, when I tell you he squeaked out of surprise at how you turned his chair around to face you ;(

• "Uhh... Am I- Am I supposed to be looking?" He stammers, eyebrows raised and eyes locked on your bare front

• "By all means, baby," you purr, shaking your head with a familiar fondness at the boy in awe before you

• Just like Joong, he never tires of seeing you naked. He loves looking at you when you're nude, because it's when he can appreciate all aspects of you

• "Hang on, let me pause the game, I'll meet you in the bedroom"

• Getting intimate with Jongho is quite easy. He'll pretty much always say yes to sex, and it's pretty casual when you hint at it

[jkbabiey]

𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 ⤇ 𝙹𝙹𝙺

Words: 4.7K

Genre: angst; fluff; it's a sad ending y'all

Synopsis: “I'm in love with you and it scares me to death."

Song Rec: 2 kids - Taemin ; to die for - Sam Smith ; r u ok - Tate McRae ; Emotional bruises - Madison Beer ; Selfish - Madison Beer ; i love you - Billie Eilish ; when the party's over - Billie Eilish

Oh, he was so perfect! So freaking flawless you couldn’t take your eyes off him for a second!

You had just got to Hoseok’s party with Yuta, but it seemed, to Jungkook, like he had been staring at you for hours. You hadn’t spared him a look yet, and if he hadn’t stood up from his seat on the couch to greet you, you probably wouldn’t have even known he was there too. You were too busy looking at your boyfriend, all wide-eyed and agape lips, to notice his presence behind you. But then Yuta’s eyes hardened as he crossed eyes with your best friend, and you, of course, noticed his change of behaviour and looked over your shoulder.

“Oh! Hi Kook!” you squealed and immediately threw your arms around his neck. Jungkook quickly enveloped your waist in his muscular arms, lifting you from the floor. “God, I missed you so much these last days! Where have you been?” you asked against the skin of his neck. And Jungkook smiled, discretely taking a sniff from your hair.

“I’ve been where I always am. You’re the one who disappeared,” he said, humorously - but not so much, because he actually meant to throw that in your face, but he wouldn’t stand the idea of making you feel bad over anything, ever.

“Oh God, blame Yuta here!” you said, raising your eyebrows and chuckling softly as he let you back on the floor. “Yuta, this is Jungkook, my best friend.” You presented him, and he held out his hand in Yuta’s direction, out of pure courtesy.

“Hey man,” Yuta muttered and shook his hand, a bit too boldly for Jungkook’s liking. Jungkook smiled at the guy - a very small and not-genuine smile. Any other time, you would have noticed how fake his smile was, but right now, your eyes were on Yuta. None of your attention was aimed at Jungkook.

Before Jungkook noticed, you two were already too immersed in how amazing these last days - without him - had been, he turned around and walked out of the toxic, smoke-ish and noisy environment that had taken over Hoseok’s whole place, betting his ass that you wouldn't notice his absence until the end of the night.

His hands were buried in his pockets and his head hung low. He was praying not to bump into Jin, Taehyung or any other of his closest friends that had also attended the party. His lips were currently being intensely wounded by his front teeth. His eyes stung and he didn’t know why. Then he got to his car, sitting down and letting go a deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding in. Then the tears he also hadn’t noticed to be sheltering in his eyes started to run down his cheeks.

He didn't quite know why he was crying. The only thing he knew was that you were taken. You were completely smitten to some other guy, that wasn’t him and that bothered him in measures he couldn’t have imagined. You were absolutely smitten to someone, who wasn't him.

He had lost his chance. That's why he was crying.

He was a goner.

You were standing there, messy hair, deep dark circles, bare face, large grey sweatpants- that seemed oddly familiar to him, but he decided to ignore that - and a black sweatshirt, in front of him, asking to come in. He stepped away and you came in. Not wasting any time after he closed the door, you grabbed his neck and buried your face on it. He felt the wet patches you were leaving in his thin dark green t-shirt. He held you tight against his body and you sobbed fully. Your cries only intensified when he placed one of his big hands on your head and took his soft lips to your forehead, pecking it.

Then he picked you up, your legs around his waist and your face, still buried in his neck. He took you to his living room, taking a chair and placing it in front of his warm fireplace. He sat on it, you on his lap, holding onto his shoulders. There was nothing better than this spot to calm you down on a cold day. He knew it but he doubted Yuta made any idea of it.

“Have you ever been afraid of losing the love of your life?”

His heart shattered. He could hear it shatter, like a very fragile glass piece. Yuta was the love of your life. What had he to do with that, why were you even here, if your problem was with Yuta?

“You and Yuta argued?”

You hummed, a bit hesitant - the reason unknown to him. He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t. It was not his place. You just needed a friendly lap to seat on, a couple of warm arms to hold you and a gentle voice to tell you it was alright.

“It’s alright... It’s alright baby...”

That’s exactly what he did.

“This is Soojin, my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened and a small, surprised smile played on your lips. He hesitated for your answer.

“Hi!” after greeting the beautiful girl that stood next to him holding his hand tight, you moved forward to briefly hug her. “Jungkook, never mentioned you before!”.

Snarky.

Soojin looked at Jungkook, her shy eyes now displayed a small discreet amount of anger.

“Oh... This is pretty recent. That’s why,” Soojin blurted, a nervous laugh erupting right away.

Soojin was a girl he had met about a month ago and she was amazing. Incredibly breathtaking and Jungkook couldn’t adore her more. His crush on you had been long forgotten - or at least he thought it had.

Jungkook thought the dinner was delicious, but still, when you asked what he thought of the dinner he answered ‘it’s good, but yesterday Soojin made some amazing bibimbap, I should have asked her to do it for tonight instead’. And you smiled bitterly and him. No one else noticed the bitterness in your smile, but he did.

Why was he acting this way? Because since he and his new girlfriend got in your apartment, you had established this dumb discreet competition between you and Soojin, making passive-aggressive comments and the poor girl beside him was so notoriously uncomfortable, he felt sorry for bringing her here.

“Soojin, maybe you should visit my hairdresser”

“I know you probably don’t understand since you’ve never been to college, but I’ve been so happy with my grades recently”

“How have you managed to attract someone like Jungkook, I mean... You know what I mean, right?”

So when the dinner was over, he pulled you away by the arm, bringing you to the kitchen and leaving Yuta and Soojin on the balcony, enjoying the view and hopefully sparing Soojin some minutes of your annoyingly mean comments.

“Why are you being such a bitch to Soojin?” he asked, hands on his hips and his eyes raging.

“I’m not,” you furrowed your eyebrows and he laughed ironically.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.”

“You had never mentioned her before. Who do you think I am, for you to present me some temporary fling you’re having. I’m more important than that! If you want to present me to someone, I want her to be at least stable. Not someone you’ve been dating for 2 weeks!”

“What has time to do with it? I like her, I think she’s worthy enough for you to meet her!”

“C’mon, look at her. She sports the slutty look.” you deadpanned and Jungkook’s eyes widened.

“You’re going too far! Look at Yuta! He’s the typical high school fuckboy!” he whisper-screamed. “You have no moral to talk about Soojin like that!”

“Oh, now he’s defending her!” you ironized and he rubbed his forehead, trying to look for just a little bit more patience. “You didn’t even tell me she was coming! And plus, I don’t have to mandatorily like her!��

“I don’t like Yuta and you don’t hear me talking to him like he's trash, right?”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s not trash, but we can’t say the same for Soojin, can we?”

That was enough. He turned his back on you, going to the balcony in quick steps and grabbing Soojin’s hand in his. He dragged her across your apartment as you stared at him piercingly.

“Babe, what’s going on?” Soojin asked, completely adrift.

“We’re leaving.”

“I haven’t said goodbye yet, kook”

“You don’t need to, we’re not coming back anyway,” he stated as his eyes locked on yours.

Jungkook really didn’t plan on coming back but Soojin broke up with him about a month later, claiming that he was in love with someone else and not bothering to explain further. Needless to say, Jungkook had never been as bewildered and nauseated in his life. He had argued with you, his best friend, to protect Soojin’s dignity, and she dared to say he didn’t love her?!

The only one he could think of to help him figure out what the heck Soojin was referring to with such barbarities, was you. You were the most intelligent and astute person Jungkook had ever met. He was sure you were the only one who could possible help him.

When he showed up at your door, you opened it. No sign of shock or surprise evident on your face in seeing him after your huge argument, because you both knew you two would never be able to stay mad a each other for too long. A month of not talking was a new record.

When he blurted out the reason Soojin had used to break up with him, after sitting down next to you on your couch, your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened.

“What?” you exclaimed as Jungkook shook his head, showing his bewilderment.

“That’s what I said!” he exclaimed back and you looked at the floor, completely confused by what your best friend was telling you. The boy had almost finished his 7-year friendship to defend his new girlfriend. How could she even question his feelings?!

“She’s probably just overthinking something... Maybe she saw you hugging another girl... Or maybe a text on your phone...”

“I didn’t text anyone other than her! Not even you!” he screeched and you scratched your ear, trying to think of some logical reason behind the sudden breakup.

“... Probably, it’s really her overthinking something... Girls do that! I do that, all the time!” you looked at him doubtfully, as he stared back in the same way. “SHE’S INSECURE!” you shouted as the sudden realization, that seemed to be the most logical out of every single theory you had already come up with, came to your mind.

Jungkook widened his eyes, straightening his back as your speculation didn’t seem as automatically disposable as all the others that had come to his mind.

“That’s it!” you continued. “Probably, she’s in one of those times where she doubts every single thing in her body, and she thinks she’s not enough for you! I feel that way too often!”

Jungkook’s expression got serious as he heard the last portion of your speech. “You do?”

It took you a moment to understand what he was asking, but as you saw the worry behind his eyes you quickly figured the context of the question. “Oh... Yeah, I guess it’s pretty normal...”

“You shouldn’t feel that way, you’re pretty amazing...”

You smiled shyly and sent him a sweet gaze, as he quickly returned it. “With Yuta, it’s pretty hard not to doubt me at times. Have you seen the guy? Seems like he came straight out a freaking novel...” you chuckled playfully and Jungkook pushed your shoulder with his.

“And so do you.” And there was Jungkook in his natural element.

“Jungkook! Stop flirting!” you screeched, shyly as your cheeks turned into a dark shade of pink. Jungkook laughed, cringing internally at how cute he found you in that exact moment. He embraced your shoulders in his muscular arms, and you finally looked into his eyes. His face was awfully close and you could feel his breath on your face as a soft smile lingered on his lips.

“Missed you,” he whispered so that only the two of you could hear it, even though no one else was around.

“Missed you,” you whispered back, leaning your forehead to his.

Soojin had taken him back.

She had her reasons to break up with him in the first place, but she couldn’t deny the guy a second chance as he stood by her door, a bouquet of red roses, that you had recommended, in his hand, puppy eyes and pouted lips.

You had found out in the worst of ways.

Crying your heart out, you stood in the elevator, waiting for it to finally come to your destination, your best friend’s apartment floor. When it did, you got out of it, your face smudged with your -supposedly, waterproof - mascara. You knocked and were received by Soojin, in all her beauty, messy hair and no make-up features, wearing Jungkook’s shirt. She was probably busy with something else. She still managed to look extremely gorgeous, and there were you, looking like you had just been run over by a bus.

“Y/N! Are you alright! That’s dumb, of course not! Do you want to come in? Wait a second, I’ll go call Jungkook,” she stated with a genuine expression of worry on her face and a hand on your shoulder.

“No! No, leave it. I’m fine!” you said, grabbing her hand before she could go and call Jungkook. “I’ll just go home. Sorry for interrupting you two!” you smiled, even with your smudged make-up face. “Don’t worry, I’ll just call him later!”

And so you turned your back on her, as you felt her worried look on your back.

“Oh! And I’m sorry about how I treated you last time...” You turned back to her, sending an apologetic smile her way.

“Don’t worry about that...” she muttered and smiled back.

It was obvious why Jungkook liked her so much.

“What happened yesterday?!” Jungkook shouted as soon as you opened the door, exactly 7:54 AM and the guy was already standing by your door.

“You didn’t tell me you and Soojin were back together...”

“Not what I asked,” he said back, impatient.

“I wasn’t answering you either,” you mocked and he sent you an annoyed look. “Don’t worry about last night. I’m fine now.”

“I just want to know what happened. Not even worried...” he said and you laughed at how sarcastic he could be at times.

“Yuta and I broke up,” you said and Jungkook’s eyes widened. “He cheated. A drunk night out.”

“Son of a bitch...” he muttered and you quickly enveloped his face with your hands, bringing his eyes to yours.

“I’m fine, really. No need to get mad” you chuckled a bit. Jungkook stared at you for a while, before holding your hands and kissing both of them.

“You deserve so much better. Please don’t settle for someone like him.”

“I won’t,” you smiled and he smiled back.

He spent the rest of the day with you. Both laying on the sofa, holding onto each other, and watching movies, with a huge bowl of the sweetest popcorn you could have managed.

“I’m 25...” you muttered out of nowhere and Jungkook hummed back, his face snuggled by the side of your neck, his arms around your waist and his chest against your back.

“And?”

“I want to get married someday and now I don't have a boyfriend,” you muttered once again.

“Were you really planning on marrying that piece of shit?”

“I didn’t know he was a piece of shit.”

“You don’t need to get married now. You’re still young. You’ll find a great guy, who knows how to truly value you as the woman you are,” he said, before softly kissing the skin of your neck, where his cheek was previously resting on.

"Soojin’s a lucky girl,” you said, smiling, after few silent moments.

She really was a lucky girl.

A few years later

“Would you marry me?”

Your eyes widened, quickly averting to your best friend, kneeled down in front of his 3-year girlfriend. He was glowing. A wide perfectly white smile played on his lips as he stared up at Soojin with eyes that shone brighter than ever. She was speechless - very much like you. Her hands covered her mouth and her eyes were starting to get wet with tears. The answer that followed was obvious.

“Yes!”

There it was. She threw her arms around Jungkook’s neck, as he stood up and enveloped her slim waist in his embrace. She was crying already and he chuckled lightly at the emotional mess his girlfriend was.

You weren't expecting this. But you should have. Jungkook hadn't talked to you about this or left you any clue about it, but still, he was 28 years old. You could see the shine of his eyes getting brighter each time he looked at her, every passing day. They were in love and their relationship was stronger each day.

Your whole group of friends manifested their happiness. Jimin had tears in his eyes from how happy he was seeing that the youngest of the group was finally settling down for life. Namjoon clapped his hands, smirking proudly at the youngest. You could swear you’d seen Jin, that stood next to Namjoon also clapping his hands, winking to his friend when their eyes crossed. Yeri whistled loudly along with Taehyung, while Irene laughed at her friends’ foolishness.

Mingyu, quite unaware of the mess the living room held, kept his eyes secured on you, smiling. When you caught his gaze, you sent him a tiny smile back - the first since the heartfelt proposal. You averted your eyes back to the couple holding each other in the middle of the room and when they parted their embrace, Jungkook’s eyes locked on yours. You weren’t smiling as he expected you to be. You didn’t even seem to be happy for him. He smiled anyway, and you, in all your effort, winked playfully at him, as you turned your back on him. You grabbed a cup of champagne and walked towards the balcony, being interrupted by the male hand that suddenly grabbed your waist.

“We’re next,” you heard Mingyu whisper in your ear. You looked back, grabbing his hand and lightly squeezing it.

“You bet,” you answered playfully and smiled brightly at him.

Mingyu was your boyfriend. You had been dating him for 2 years now and he was great. Jungkook had presented him to you at a home party. You still remember complaining to him about having to watch him and Soojin being all couply while you still spent the night laying in bed and watching romances. The week after your complaints he took you to a party and introduced you to this really nice and good-looking guy, which happened to be his friend, named Mingyu. Mingyu was a few months older than you and he had just started to work as a lawyer. He was already introduced to your family and they all loved him, dismissing your sister's daily comments that claimed her disappointment because she thought you 'would end u with your Jungkook'.

When Mingyu let go of you to go hang out with the rest of your friends, you reached the balcony, closing the door behind you, leaning on the glass balcony and gazing at the amazing view your friend Irene had got when she bought this new apartment with Jin, her boyfriend. Your hair, being wildly swept by the wind, was a mess, but you could care less. Your eyes were teary, you didn't really know why though. Something about Jungkook getting married left a huge ball of emotions sitting on your chest. What bothered you is that even knowing Soojin was an amazing girl and Jungkook would be happy with her, you weren't particularly happy with the news. You knew this could as well turn you into a very shitty best friend, and that's why you thought you wouldn't really be able to talk to Jungkook without catching a breath of fresh air first. Without noticing the tears you had been previously sheltering in your eyes, were now running down your cheeks.

You sobbed and quickly wiped the tears away when you heard the balcony doors opening and closing again. It was Jungkook, you knew it when you felt the warm presence you'd gotten used to after 9 years.

"Hey," he muttered.

You didn't answer, afraid your voice would fail you and just kept staring forwards, feeling Jungkook's gaze on you. You knew he knew you had been crying. He was a master when it came to figuring it out.

"So... you're getting married now hum?" you commented, once your vocal cords seemed stable enough.

"Right," he answered, and you looked at your side, not bothering to hide your puffy eyes. "What do you think of that?" he asked you and you looked down at your hands.

"You know... If you're happy, I'm happy," you said and he chuckled.

"Of course," Jungkook mimicked your actions, looking down as well. You two stayed quiet for some time, as the starry night sky shined down on you.

"You look amazing tonight, by the way," he remarked. "Didn't get the chance to te-"

"You didn't tell me you were going to propose," you interrupted him, looking back at him. There wasn't a shy smile on your lips or a polite gaze on your eyes. All Jungkook could see in your expression was hurt.

"I don't have to tell you every little thing going on in my life," he answered, putting up his defensive side.

"This is not little! This is marriage," you exclaimed and stared at him. He stared down and stayed quiet.

"Mingyu told me he's going to propose too," he announced and you widened your eyes. Not that you hadn't thought about it. Mingyu had commented a lot of times he wanted to make you his wife and build a family with you. But still, it was big news for you.

"I'm sure you weren't supposed to tell me that."

"Are you going to say yes?" he asked and stared at you.

You stared back at him and for once in that night, your eyes met for more than a minute. There was a silent plead present in his eyes that you couldn't really figure out. He sighed and got closer to you, your arms rubbing against each other. You lay your head down on his shoulder and he shortly kissed your forehead.

"Y/n..." he whispered, and you hummed back, still not answering his previous question. "I can... go back. If you... want me to."

"If you love her, then you should marry her," you answered right away, not wanting to hold your best friend back from marrying the girl he loves.

He kept quiet and so did you.

"Are you going to say yes?" he repeated his previous question and you shot your head up, looking straight in his eyes.

"You know... I've always thought of you as the love of my life."

Jungkook's eyes widened as you chuckled. That's when it came to him. That night, you were afraid of losing him, not Yuta.

"I've always been told I should marry the love of my life. But I don't think I can marry you now that you're already married," you stated playfully, but Jungkook's stare was serious. "Mingyu is amazing, really. I worship him. But how do I know if I love him enough to marry him?" you asked, looking up to find Jungkook already staring at you, a mix of different emotions present in his eyes. "How did you know you loved Soojin enough to marry her?" you asked again and Jungkook looked down.

"Well... I like her almost as much as I love you," he whispered loud enough for only you to listen. "And I think that's a whole lot."

"Do you love her, though?" you asked, absolutely perplexed at his answer.

He smiled lightly and sighted.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he whispered.

He stood up straight, turning his back on you and walking back towards the door.

"Why don't you just tell me then?" you said a bit louder than you had talked the whole night.

He looked back at you, over his shoulder, his hand already on the door handle. He chuckled lowly, what sounded like a sarcastic chuckle, before turning back to you and taking two steps forward. Somehow, his expression had changed and you weren't sure how to read it now. He was bitter.

"You want me to tell you? I just proposed and you have the guts to get sad because I'm marrying Soojin??

"I'm not s-"

"Shut up! Just... Shut up." he begged ironically and you stood quiet, he sighed angrily and looked to his left, avoiding looking at you.

"Maybe you should step away... At least for a while."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Jungkook you're getting married. I can't miss that. I won't miss that!"

"Exactly!" he screamed suddenly and walked quickly towards you. He had never been this angry in front of you and it scared you that you were the reason for his anger. His face was inches away from yours and you could feel his quick breath fanning over your lips. "I'm getting married to Soojin but all I can think about is if I should have proposed to you!" he whispered in your face and you could see his eyes watering, very much like you could feel yours do the same. “You know why I proposed so suddenly? Because Mingyu told me he was going to propose to you and I didn’t want to be the only one feeling miserable!”

"J-Jungkook..." you sighed and Jungkook let his tears fall, furrowing his eyebrows in pure anguish, as he nestled his face on your neck, crying silently. He enveloped your body in his arms and you quickly did the same.

"I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I'm in love with you and it scares me to death," he sobbed and your grip on him tightened.

"It's alright... I'm right here..."

You two stayed in that same position for a while, until he calmed down and his sobs stopped.

"What do I do now?" he asked, still laying his head on your chest.

"You do whatever makes you happy," you answered and he kissed your neck, and action that, from him, was already usual.

"Hubby! Can we go home?" Soojin opened the balcony's door, chuckling at the new nickname. Jungkook quickly stepped back and wiped the stray tears on his cheeks away. Sensing your stare on him, he sent you a tiny smile.

Soojin caught your gaze from behind Jungkook's shoulder and sent you a smile, which you retributed.

"Yes babe, let's go..." Jungkook answered after a while. He looked at you, the deepest look in his eyes that you had ever seen. He cupped your cheek as you two heard Soojin walking back inside, to say her goodbyes. “I’ll go now.”

“Please, don’t do this. If you don’t want to marry her, you don’t have to.”

“What do you want?”

You didn’t answer, opting to roll your arms tightly around his neck, as he held your waist, bringing your body impossibly closer to his.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you whispered. “, but this is a decision you have to make.”

And he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to break all the promises he had made to Soojin this past three years. He wasn’t ready to admit that all she was was a way to get to you. He wasn’t ready to admit that at some point in his life he had become a worthless and selfish jerk and that his life had been diminished to you. He wasn’t ready to break every single ethical moral and principle that he had been trying to live by all his life. This decision didn’t come to him, and only him. It came to you, to Soojin, to Mingyu and to everyone surrounding the four of you. It wasn’t his right to break his friends’ hearts and he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry.”

And he walked away.

[mysillylittlerabbitharu]

:Slurp:

Kokonoi x Reader x Inui

Gender-Neutral

Tw:swearing, and someone other things ooc Koko and prob Inui

This takes place at night

'A......a damn ramen shop really he wants to meet up here' Kokonoi thought while staring at the ramen shop with a blank face.

'Is Inui really.......... going to be late to a meeting he set up' Kokonoi thought as he glared down the door to look for his late friend. 'Who am I kidding of coarse he's late he must have slept late because he was playing that damn game..........huh what was it called again' Kokonoi was stuck in his thoughts that he didn't notice his late friend coming up to their table.

As Inui came in with his other friend Y/n he felt nervous to have them meet because well Koko could be a little...........shy with someone new at their table especially with someone as good-looking as you.

'Haha wait a minute do I just say the were good-looking nah I don't think so' Inui thought to himself as he glanced at Y/n.

"Hey Koko" Inui said to his dear friend who was in lost of words while staring at Y/n, "Huh..? Oh Inui your here already sorry I didn't see you there" Koko explained to Inui while taking a glance at Y/n.

"Hello there you must be Inui's friend, I'm Y/n" you said to this so called Koko guy who seemed to be looking at you a little too often. "Oh yeah Hello I'm Kokonoi Hajime, Inui's childhood friend " Koko responded to you as you gave him the sweetest smile you could muster up on your face.

Skipping to where y'all finished eating and are leaving because nothing good came to my head☝️🤡

After their dinner they all decided to walk to a park to rest at and talk, midway through the walk Inui got a call telling him that he needs to help out at the Motor shop so he had to leave you both before he left he gave you a nice and long hug and told Koko goodnight.

"Umm well it's just us would you still like to go the park or would you like to walk home instead?" Koko asked you.

"Hmmm let's walk home how bout that" you softly told him while giving him a small sweet smile. Koko blushed at the facts that that sweet smile you did was directed to him.

"O-Oh ok then" Koko response to you as he gave a small smile to you."Hmmm alright let's go" you told him.

As you both made your way home, Inui was at the shop wondering what you were doing wishing he was by your side to hear your smooth voice and hearing your soft giggle through the night, oh how he wished he was by your side right now.

You and Koko where walking while having a nice conversation about your interest and likes until you where at your house "Well we're here thanks for keeping me company Kokonoi" you said to the man in front of you.

"Oh.... I guess we are here huh well it was nice talking to you" he told you as you gave him a closed eyed smile."Haha I could say the same to you Kokonoi" you told him while turning around to walk into your house.

" Ah Y/n can I umm... well..... can I have your number " Koko asked you shyly, "Haha yeah alright here you go Kokonoi" you said as you gave him your phone number "Oh yeah and Y/n, Koko" he said to you," Huh" you said.

"Call me Koko instead you don't have to call me by my full name" he told you while now holding his phone in his hands close to his chest.

"Ahh alright then you can call me Y/n/n" you said to him while turning around, " Goodnight" you both said as you parted ways home.

As Koko was leaving he felt flustered and happy he couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the night he couldn't even get any sleep that night out of happiness.

Inui in the other hand felt exhausted as he got home and showered getting ready to sleep only to wonder if he could have a nice dream of you and him having fun at your guys usual place.

-Fin

Lmao this sucks but ok hope y’all like it