#Fish-N-Lobster

[keystonediveproductsstuff]

Savor the fresh taste of the ocean with the Individual Fish-N-Lobster Inn Bag 30. This expertly curated selection brings restaurant-quality seafood straight to your kitchen. Each bag contains a mix of succulent fish and lobster, portioned individually for convenience. Whether you’re preparing a gourmet dinner or a quick seafood dish, these high-quality ingredients ensure a satisfying meal every time. Perfect for seafood lovers looking to elevate their culinary game!

[waywardsalt]

the idea of linebeck having a rabid special interest in shellfish is kinda funny imagine being link having never seen an actual fish in your life and all of a sudden you’re in some ocean that has actual fish and as you’re adjusting to this you now have to process that there are also these really weird looking kinds of sea creatures too and the guy you’re traveling around with literally cannot be normal about them

[omohole]

man ive been fuckin spoiled theres a crazy good restaurant nearby that has takoyaki and any time i have any wiggle room in my wallet i look at doordash like "hmm... a yummy treat for me......" its so fucking good i would do so much for a plate of takoyaki you dont understand

[taegularities]

meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them. 

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core. 

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. “Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR. 

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey.​ Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet. 

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.” 

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…” 

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

“…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.” 

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought. 

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity. 

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his. 

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

READ BELOW!!

the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

[assiraphales]

I think every film critic review needs a footnote called the “fun-o-meter” where they ignore everything they said in the previous paragraphs and have to answer objectively. put it on a scale. good good to bad good to bad good to bad bad. for example. did venom get a 30% on rotten tomatoes? yes. but watching sweaty tom hardy sit in a fish tank and eat a live lobster was VERY fun. some movies aren’t meant to win awards. they’re just meant to be a hoot n a holler

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Melt

"And if I die because you made me melt, oh well."

Summary: You and Frankie spend a hot summer day by the pool

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, semi-public shenanigans (we're assuming there's a big, tall fence around the pool lmao), Frankie being our 🐱 eating king, Frankie being the sweetest and so obsessed with you, poor Pope probably needs to clean his pool after these two leave, reader wears a bathing suit, can swim and can get sunburned

A/N: HEY HOMIES, IT'S YA GIRL!!!!! What better way to celebrate National Catfish Day than with a lil poolside Frankie 🤪 It has been hotter than Satan's ballsack out here in the midwest, so this song is dedicated to this ongoing heatwave and this song that I am absolutely obsessed with and is SO Frankie coded 😭 This is the first thing that I have worked on since May so apologies in advance for bein' a little rusty, but I'm excited to finally be back on the writing train again!!! ily all, big forehead kisses for each of you MWAH!!!! 🥹 poorly beta'd bc that's how i roll

Love it or hate it, if there was one thing that you could always count on, it was the fact that summers in south Florida were hot. 

Really fucking hot. 

So when Pope had offered up his pool for you and Frankie to use while he was out of town for the week, it was a no brainer that the two of you had ecstatically accepted his invitation. 

“We really owe Pope for this one, huh?” You smirked, setting down your beach bag on one of the lounge chairs spread across the pool deck, pulling out some sunscreen and towels for you and Frankie. 

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Frankie sighed, nodding his head in agreement, admiring the crystal blue water sparkling in the heat of the hot summer sun, hands on his hips as he looked out over the pool. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you stood behind him, secretly whipping out your phone to take a picture of Frankie inspecting the pool before quickly texting it to Pope, knowing what a kick he’d get out of it. 

You: Thanks for letting us use the pool! New pool boy is taking his job very seriously. 🫡

Pope: Haha. Would have looked better if he showed up in a bikini. Have fun u 2. 

“What are you laughing at?” Frankie asked, turning around to the sounds of your sneaky snickers before feeling his own phone buzz in his pocket, looking down to see a text from Pope. 

Pope: Your wife thinks you’d make a good pool boy. Told her you need a bikini first. Have fun with Mrs. Fish today.

Pope: Not too much fun though. 🤨

Frankie: Sorry to disappoint. 

Frankie: What’s that supposed to mean? 

Pope: I just cleaned the pool before I left. Don’t need any baby fish swimming around in there if you know what I mean 🐟 💦 lol

Frankie: Jesus christ, Pope.

Frankie shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket as he made his way over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. 

“You think I’d make a good pool boy, huh?” He smirked, planting a chaste kiss in your lips as the two of you laughed. 

“The best. But only if you give me another kiss and put some sunscreen on me so I don’t turn into a lobster.” You teased, kissing him right back before pulling away to grab the sunscreen bottle, passing it off to him. 

“Fair enough.” 

As he took the bottle from you, starting to shake it up, Frankie couldn’t help stop and watch in awe as you began to remove your coverup. Underneath, it revealed the little, strappy, bright yellow bikini you had just bought, deciding that today would be a good choice to show it off for the first time with just you and your husband together. 

“Fuck me…” Frankie whispered under his breath, his tongue darting out of his mouth and swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down, admiring every sun-kissed inch of your soft skin and the way the fabric of your swimsuit hugged your curves. “Is this- fuck, is this new?” he asked softly, his sweet brown eyes just about popping out of his head, trying to use every ounce of self composure to even form a coherent question. 

“Do you like it? I got it a few days ago when I was out. Figured I could use a new one.” You blushed, biting down on your lip at Frankie’s reaction, wondering how in the world he still managed to make you feel as beautiful as he did the first night he’d met you after all your time spent together. 

“Can I show you?” Frankie asked, running his hands along your waist, gently toying with the strings holding your swimsuit bottoms together. 

“Show me what?” 

“Show you how much I like it?” He responded, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers slowly began to undo the bow tied around your hips while he gently nipped at your neck, making your stomach swell with arousal. 

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, carefully backing up until your legs hit the lounge chair behind you, Frankie gently guiding you to sit down and lay back while he nestled himself between your legs, draping each one over his bare, broad shoulders, his tanned and freckled skin glowing in the blazing afternoon sun. 

Frankie wasted no time planting soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, the familiar scratch of his beard and mustache against your skin making you moan in eager anticipation as you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your swimsuit bottoms. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that? I’m so lucky.” He whispered between kisses along the meat of your thighs before stopping at your core, letting his fingers brush against the fabric of your swimsuit, sneaking under the material just enough to feel how wet you had already become in the few short moments since you had sat down. 

“Seems like you're pretty wet for not even getting in the pool yet, Hermosa.” Frankie teased, the ghosting of his fingers along your cunt making you whine as you propped your head up to see the devilish smirk between his cheeks. 

Almost painfully slowly, Frankie untied the first, then second bow holding your bottoms together on each hip, watching your swimsuit fall to the ground, revealing your pussy, slick and puffy, worked up from Frankie’s touch. 

“So pretty…” He cooed, letting his fingers drag across your cunt, collecting your arousal and rubbing at your clit, already aching to be touched. 

Frankie was nothing if not a methodical man, memorizing every twitch and hitched breath beneath his touch, learning all the things that absolutely drove you wild.

Knowing that he could be the only one to make you feel this good got him off more than anything else ever could.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your lips fell to a perfectly parted “O” as he pressed more pressure against your sensitive nub, and how they fell even wider as he pressed two of his fingers into your entrance, gently curling them to bump against the soft, spongy spot inside you that had you clenching around his hand. 

“Oh Frankie… Fuck…” You whimpered, your head falling back as Frankie’s fingers were soon followed by his tongue, licking a long, broad strip across your cunt, ​​putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to make that all too familiar sweet tingling sensation to start build in your stomach. 

Frankie’s tongue danced in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you with just his fingers. That, combined with the meticulous and skilled motions of his tongue had the coil in your belly beginning to tighten further and further. 

Your hand shot down between your parted legs, reaching to grab a fistful of Frankie’s brown, curly locks, thick and sweaty from the heat, tugging just hard enough to force his gaze up towards you, your eyes locking with his rich, brown ones. 

“F-Frankie-” Was all you were able to mutter as he continued with his fingers to press against your g-spot, slick coating his digits with each stroke. He licked one more strip along your pussy before placing soft kisses on your clit and the inside of your thighs, peeking up at you with a boyish grin. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. Wanna taste you all over me.” Frankie moaned, the low rumble of his words making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he dove back between your legs, wrapping his free arm around one of your thighs, firmly holding you in place. 

Curving his fingers ever so slightly and latching his lips around your clit, you knew it was only a matter of moments before Frankie was about to make you fall apart completely. You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter around his fingers, able to utter nothing but a “F-fuck…” as you felt your orgasm rip through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins and soaked Frankie below you. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum for him with everything that you had in you, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become. Your pussy was slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the way Frankie had fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” You whispered under your breath, still trying to regain your composure as you looked down at a satisfied Frankie, wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand with a smirk. 

“Always taste so sweet, Hermosa. You’re so fucking hot, I swear you’d make me melt faster than the sun.” 

The two of you both couldn’t help but snort at Frankie’s cheesy comment, sitting up as you giggled to grab Frankie’s face and bring him in for a long, deep kiss, the taste of you still fresh on his tongue. 

“You are such a cheeseball, Fransisco Morales. I can’t believe that- Frankie! Frankie! Put me down! No, no, no, no, you better not-” But before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Frankie had already picked you up out of your chair, flung you over his shoulder and had you flailing your arms and legs as he carried you towards the edge of the pool, jumping in with you mid-way through your poorly fought protest. 

Your heads bobbed to the surface, still in a fit of laughter as you floated in the refreshing cool of the sparkling pool water, you wrapped your legs around Frankie’s waist, draping your arms over his shoulders while he pulled you closer to his chest. 

“Sorry, mi amor, what were you saying?” Frankie teased, raising a playful eyebrow at you as he grinned with his goofy smile, making you over dramatically roll your eyes at him. 

“One, that you are the biggest goof I’ve ever met and I love you for it,” You snickered, plating a soft kiss on his plush lips, “and two, I think I can practically hear Pope screaming at you for the fact I’m half naked in his pool.” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”   

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby

@fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha

@jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

@pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns

@missladym1981 @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color

@persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow

@vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller

@mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring

@itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Venom: Go fish!

Y/n: We’re playing scrabble

Venom: I want lobster

Y/n: Do you have lobster money?

Venom: money is what people use to pay for things correct?

Y/n: Yes

Venom: What if we were to steal a lobster from the restaurant?

Y/n: Then we would be arrested

Venom: Tony would help us!

Y/n: Tony would take us to prison himself

Venom throwing the scrabble board: I’m bored!

Y/n: We’re in solitude because you can’t control your anger!

Venom: the anger I feel comes from your feelings and you are behaving very hostile at the moment!

Y/n: Because of you!

Wanda and Nat watching from outside

Nat: How are you gonna plead their case Wands?

Wanda: They do make it very difficult, maybe the guy won’t press charges?

Nat: His wife is missing her head

Wanda: She was being aggressive towards them!

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - August 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Smart hives and dancing robot bees could boost sustainable beekeeping

“[Researchers] developed a digital comb—a thin circuit board equipped with various sensors around which bees build their combs. Several of these in each hive can then transmit data to researchers, providing real-time monitoring. [… Digital comb] can [also] be activated to heat up certain parts of a beehive […] to keep the bees warm during the winter[…. N]ot only have [honeybee] colonies reacted positively, but swarm intelligence responds to the temperature changes by reducing the bees' own heat production, helping them save energy.”

2. Babirusa pigs born at London Zoo for first time

“Thanks to their gnarly tusks […] and hairless bodies, the pigs are often called "rat pigs" or "demon pigs” in their native Indonesia[….] “[The piglets] are already looking really strong and have so much energy - scampering around their home and chasing each other - it’s a joy to watch. They’re quite easy to tell apart thanks to their individual hair styles - one has a head of fuzzy red hair, while its sibling has a tuft of dark brown hair.””

3. 6,000 sheep will soon be grazing on 10,000 acres of Texas solar fields

“The animals are more efficient than lawn mowers, since they can get into the nooks and crannies under panel arrays[….] Mowing is also more likely to kick up rocks or other debris, damaging panels that then must be repaired, adding to costs. Agrivoltaics projects involving sheep have been shown to improve the quality of the soil, since their manure is a natural fertilizer. […] Using sheep instead of mowers also cuts down on fossil fuel use, while allowing native plants to mature and bloom.”

4. Florida is building the world's largest environmental restoration project

“Florida is embarking on an ambitious ecological restoration project in the Everglades: building a reservoir large enough to secure the state's water supply. […] As well as protecting the drinking water of South Floridians, the reservoir is also intended to dramatically reduce the algae-causing discharges that have previously shut down beaches and caused mass fish die-offs.”

5. The Right to Repair Movement Continues to Accelerate

“Consumers can now demand that manufacturers repair products [including mobile phones….] The liability period for product defects is extended by 12 months after repair, incentivising repairs over replacements. [… M]anufacturers may need to redesign products for easier disassembly, repair, and durability. This could include adopting modular designs, standardizing parts, and developing diagnostic tools for assessing the health of a particular product. In the long run, this could ultimately bring down both manufacturing and repair costs.”

6. Federal Judge Rules Trans Teen Can Play Soccer Just In Time For Her To Attend First Practice

“Today, standing in front of a courtroom, attorneys for Parker Tirrell and Iris Turmelle, two transgender girls, won an emergency temporary restraining order allowing Tirrell to continue playing soccer with her friends. […] Tirrell joined her soccer team last year and received full support from her teammates, who, according to the filing, are her biggest source of emotional support and acceptance.”

7. Pilot study uses recycled glass to grow plants for salsa ingredients

“"We're trying to reduce landfill waste at the same time as growing edible vegetables," says Andrea Quezada, a chemistry graduate student[….] Early results suggest that the plants grown in recyclable glass have faster growth rates and retain more water compared to those grown in 100% traditional soil. [… T]he pots that included any amount of recyclable glass [also] didn't have any fungal growth.”

8. Feds announce funding push for ropeless fishing gear that spares rare whales

“Federal fishing managers are promoting the use of ropeless gear in the lobster and crab fishing industries because of the plight of North Atlantic right whales. […] Lobster fishing is typically performed with traps on the ocean bottom that are connected to the surface via a vertical line. In ropeless fishing methods, fishermen use systems such an inflatable lift bag that brings the trap to the surface.”

9. Solar farms can benefit nature and boost biodiversity. Here’s how

“[… M]anaging solar farms as wildflower meadows can benefit bumblebee foraging and nesting, while larger solar farms can increase pollinator densities in surrounding landscapes[….] Solar farms have been found to boost the diversity and abundance of certain plants, invertebrates and birds, compared to that on farmland, if solar panels are integrated with vegetation, even in urban areas.”

10. National Wildlife Federation Forms Tribal Advisory Council to Guide Conservation Initiatives, Partnerships

“The council will provide expertise and consultation related to respecting Indigenous Knowledges; wildlife and natural resources; Indian law and policy; Free, Prior and Informed Consent[… as well as] help ensure the Federation’s actions honor and respect the experiences and sovereignty of Indigenous partners.”

August 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[mrsnancywheeler]

invisible string // finnick odair x reader

based of this request:

congrats on 700 followers!! you deserve it sm!!💜 ahh i’m so indecisive, i wanted to send a 🪻 but i can’t choose between these songs: invisible string, delicate, or slut! so whichever inspires you the most! ik it’ll be great whichever you choose!

masterlist

1.7k words

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, arguments, past relationships which includes allusions to cheating and a wrist gets grabbed, soulmates, a slowburn for them but not for us, meant to be, very little dialogue, allusions to trafficking, mental health struggles, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When Finnick was younger he'd take every free moment he had to swim, usually with his friends, but now part of him craved to be alone with the waters. It let him drop the facade and be melancholy even if it was one of the few things that really brought him joy. So, he'd stopped inviting them to his favorite secluded beach area, that way he could finally be alone with his thoughts. He would be able to turn the thoughts in his brain of all of his regrets and all the secrets he'd have to die with.

The only company he ever had besides the waves and creatures below was the family that always set out their boat to fish and it had been that way for years. A persistent presence in the water that felt like part of the environment and it didn't bother him. No one had ever spoken to him except when he and his friends were younger, the adults would urge them to be careful when they passed by. Now though it was part of the peacefulness to hear a family muttering around in the back. A family that just so happened to contain you.

Before he'd grown up and became more withdrawn he'd always accompany his mom, adorning her signature royal blue skirt, to the markets, where he learned the only place she'd buy her lobsters from was your family. As a kid it gave him some sort of pride to know where the source came from, this little special area, and now he was just grateful that the routines stayed the same whenever he was able to just be at home. He'd arrive at the beach and your boat would be bobbing up and down in the distance, Finnick would fill his time swimming and lost in thought, then eventually your family would dock the boat, he'd get closer to the shore and you guys would leave with your catch, you'd always send him a smile that he'd send an acknowledging nod back to. The normalcy felt good to him which is why it put him off when everyone filed off the boat and you weren't there.

It shouldn't have unsettled him as much as it did, but this was the one part of his life that he felt like he had some expectations for, there was control. You could just not have felt well or had something come up, but it made his stomach knot regardless. So he tried to go about the rest of his evening, searching for something to make his brain feel like there was still control. His feet brought him to the bakery, maybe those familiar sea green stained, salty loaves of bread would make him nostalgic enough to take away the feeling. There was also the cup of hot, mint tea that it seemed like only they could make the way they did, just right.The bell rang and he went inside, overtaken by the comforting smell and warmth. When he'd gotten the loaves and turned back onto the dimly lit cobblestone streets his brain only felt normal again when he'd caught a glimpse of you.

There you were, stranding with your back to the wall of the shop as you argued with some guy in front of you. Wearing that same sea green the bread was. And it felt ridiculous to Finnick, but seeing you was part of his nightly routine and it made him feel calmer even if it hadn't been the same way. This time he smiled at you and you noticed him for a second, sending a nod back before you were drawn back into whatever the man was saying.

Besides that blip, for months life went on as normal. He'd go to swim, the boat would be on the water, the boat would dock, he'd swim to shore, you'd smile a goodbye, and life would go on. A few months in there was an addition to the family on the boat, a new guy, and a new face in his routine was just as difficult for him to adjust to. Not as much as the day your family passed by and you stayed at the dock with the man. He could hear you both arguing, the setting sun illuminating you in your royal blue, your hands moving around to illustrate whatever point you were making. Finnick didn't want to eavesdrop, he wanted to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't. Then he could no longer sit still when the man grabbed your wrist with a yell and you tried to pull it away.

“Hey!" Finnick heard himself shout as his feet pounded against the sand, both of you turned your heads towards him.

“Whoa, man, nothing to worry about here!" The man let go of your wrist and put his hands in the air as some kind of defense.

“Definitely didn't look like there was nothing to worry about." Finnick knew he was intimidating, you don't win the Hunger Games and come out without some form of fear attached to your name. The man scoffed as he took a step back, “You can go now.”

The man said what must have been your name,"You don't want me to go, do you?”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course I want you to go!” You were exasperated and with a huff of frustration the man walked off. There was a beat of silence, "Thank you.” You acknowledged, sitting down on the dock, taking off your sandals, so you could dip your feet into the waters. Finnick hummed a response and stood there behind you for a while in silence before you patted the area next to you, "If you want to sit down you can, I don't usually bite." You didn't look at him, eyes staring out at the horizon.

His routine was already so skewed that there was no possibility of fixing it now, so he did sit and the dock creaked as he moved. “Are you okay?"

“Yeah, I'll be fine." You said quickly.

Finnick didn't believe you, but was in no position to call you out on that. So you sat there in comforting silence as the moon began to shine and occasionally he'd look over at you through the corner of his eyes to see how radiant you looked. At some point you were suddenly sliding off the dock into the water, fully clothed as you did so. “What're you doing?"

Your head dipped under the water before you brought it back up, “Washing it off!" It made him feel understood for a second, that's what he always was trying so desperately to do.

Maybe if he was a smarter man, after that night he would've spoken to you more, made an effort. Instead he thought about things he could say, but stuck to what was normal. The only chance was the added smile to his nod when you passed by. So for months he continued on, fantasizing about things he could say to talk to you, but wouldn't and eventually there was another boyfriend on the boat. It shouldn't have hurt him, but it unexplainably did. Hurt with himself for not saying something to you, trying to be your friend. He'd gotten used to it though until the night where you were once again nowhere to be found when your family walked off the dock. Another knot in the depths of his stomach, like something as being twisted and tugged at. So he did what he had nearly a year before, the bakery, searching for something to rid the sensation. When he'd entered it though he instantly found you. Sitting in the corner, eyes red, sipping a cup of tea. He couldn't stop his feet from moving towards the booth. In silence he sat across from you

“What'd he do?" Finnick asked as softly as he could. You sniffed, wiping away a stray tear.

“Sometimes I just wonder why nothing clicks and the puzzle pieces never fit even if I do everything I can. It's like there's no one out there for me." Your voice was so quiet as you took another sip of your tea, without a clue on any it felt so natural to open up to this man who you'd known without knowing your whole life.

It was how he felt too, everyone looked at him like he was some sort of monetary gain that could be achieved, instead of wanting to really see him. “What'd he do?" Finnick reaffirmed and you looked at him for a second before getting a look in your eye that told him everything he needed to know before you were shaking your head, trying not to cry again. He didn't know what came over him, but he rose to sit on the side of the booth you were in and had his arms wrapped around you, letting you sob into him.

That's when he felt it, the surge of energy, the bliss when you touched and maybe you did too because you stopped to stare at him for a moment. Maybe he was delusional or maybe something felt like it had clicked deep inside of his soul. He smelled the mint from your tea, looked at your royal blue top, and something felt right, more right than anything had felt since the day he was reaped. Eventually you just laid your head on his chest and felt the energy surge back and forth between the two of you. “I'll walk you home, I know the area, I grew up two streets away." He eventually muttered, not wanting to move at all. Suddenly you shifted again, this time to stare in confusion.

“I grew up, I mean I still live, two streets away.”

Maybe it was really then that Finnick knew, and you knew, that something had tied you two together since the beginning. That even when he was just the boy on the beach and you on the boat, without a word spoken, the universe meant for this. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the string had pulled you from every man who would hurt you, and kept him living. It must have been worth it all to realize after all this time it had been you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, fluff isn't my strongest spot so I hope this makes up for all the pain I caused in the latest chapter of the river! as always if you enjoyed it likes, comments, reblogs, discussion is all very appreciated and my ask box plus requests are open. thank you again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[katiemay-025]

Surprise Plan

~~~~~

summary: You and the fellow victors gather for a small get together last minute or at least that’s what you thought.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mdni, alcohol use, use of y/n and l/n (your name and last name), brief nudity(topless), mentions of acrophobia(fear of heights), mentions of hydrophobia, unclear transitions between a memory and reality(maybe)

~~~~~

You were frantically running around the house making sure everything was in order and baby proofed when there was a knock at the door. Johanna was cooped up in her crafts room for weeks but this knock sprung her to life letting her feet move on their own to the door. You had your hand on the doorknob when Johanna rushed to it pushing you out of the way and swung the door open to Finnick, Annie and baby Flynn. Finnick held his son in his arms as Flynn rested his head against Finnick’s shoulder slowly waking up.

You greeted the district 4 couple from the floor and reached your hand out to their kid. He reached out for you because baby Flynn always loved when you brought him to play on the textured quilt you made. Finnick gave you the baby bag before Johanna grabbed at Finnick’s loose hem and whisked him away to her crafts room.

She never let anyone in there when she was working on a project so when you looked at Annie, she gave a shrug and brought the tray of lobster into the kitchen. It was a feat that she kept them all alive from District 4, then again it’s Annie and she’s got the nurturing hand of a mother. She even hummed to them to get the lobsters to sleep before cooking them. You remember when you thought it was a joke but then you watched her and was absolutely gobsmacked when she balanced them on their heads. Their tails curled in and they stopped moving.

Johanna suggested that they should do that to baby Flynn and she was promptly never allowed to babysit him without you, although Finnick seemed amused by it and onboard with trying it out and even held Flynn upside down. Safe to say, Finnick slept on the couch that night.

Johanna woke you up this morning telling you that the other victors were coming over sometime in the evening and you spent the rest of the day cleaning the house. Annie and Finnick couldn’t have come at a better time because the mess was just cleaned, Johanna was usually good about keeping the house clean but it’s like last night after you went to bed, she purposely let a tornado run through. That was an overstatement she just rearranged some of the appliances but you hated when things were out of place.

Beetee had work in the Capitol but you were able to ask him about what time Peeta, Katniss and Haymitch would arrive. Right in time for dinner at 8 which was 4 hours away. You were bouncing baby Flynn on your hip, helping Annie with the vegetables when Johanna pushed Finnick out of the room hastily. He had stopped in the middle of the room with an awkward smile. “Wow Annie, you are so beautiful.”

You watched her blush while balancing a lobster. “Awwww cute. Flynn this is what you should be like when you grow up.” You held back a laugh before cooing.

“Ew, okay now move your fish brains.” Johanna said pushing Finnick.

You ended up helping Annie for the next few hours and especially with playing with Flynn. It had been hours since Johanna and Finnick left the cabin and you had no idea where they went. It was getting annoying since Johanna was the one who knew everyone was coming and didn’t bother to help.

Annie could tell you were getting stressed when you started running a hole into the ground with your pacing. She took Flynn from you and guided you to the sofa in the living room and ran her fingertips through your hair trying to calm you down though it was all for not when the doorbell rang and you sprang up to get it.

Right on schedule, Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch arrived at your cabin. You hugged them and heard some quacking behind them, Haymitch had two geese with him waddling in outfits. “Haymitch, what’s with the geese?”

“Oh yeah it’s for you and Johanna. Y/n, meet goose you and goose Johanna. They’re your we-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Katniss slapped him upside the head. Peeta came with the garlic bread and Katniss had a block of butter from a goat and she was going to melt some for the lobster.

You caught what he was about to say, there weren’t many words that started with those sounds and you and Johanna had an extensive conservation about marriage for the past three months. Your heart fluttered in your chest but you were still annoyed at Johanna for up and leaving with Finnick and not helping around the house especially when she knew you were going to have guests over.

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear, Johanna ran into the cabin almost out of breath with Finnick in tow.

“Where have you been?”

“I needed Finnick’s help with something.”

“For four hours?”

Johanna cut you off by flashing you and subsequently everyone in the room. You glared at her. You never liked that she was so open with being naked or in this case topless, mostly because you hated sharing but it did work, you shut up, looking at her with a smirk. It worked a little too well as Flynn made grabby hands at Johanna. “Milky!”

You laughed as Finnick threw a pillow at her to cover up. You guided Annie to the guest room with the long seat so she could nurse Flynn. You had Peeta help set the table for 7 and pulled a high chair from the closet that Johanna and you made for baby Flynn. She did the wooden frame and you flourished it with the cushions you made yourself. Much like all the other furniture in the house. You went back to the kitchen with Katniss.

“How have you been Katniss?” You made it a habit to check in on your fellow victors speaking to them through the phone as you sewed, knitted or crocheted something.

“Sometimes I think there’s nothing else to live for, without Prim, without my mom.“

“Yeah grief can do that.”

“Is this what it was like when you lost your family?”

“Like there’s nothing to live for? I mean I lived my whole life without them, but I still feel the loneliness of it. Some days I thought I had no purpose and I was better off dead.”

“Was that why you volunteered for your games?”

“Partly, I didn’t have anyone to grieve me but the little girl, Esther, she had a family, a place to call home. It’s crazy how your will to survive completely changes who you are. I was ready to die in that arena, but here we are. Things didn’t get better for a long time, I felt like I was stuck, I didn’t want to live and I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to go back to the girl I was before I volunteered. I couldn’t. That was when I decided I was ready to move forward despite my grief. Of course that’s the year Johanna won her games. I reached out to her and then she kept reaching out after that, at the most random times of the day too. I had to install a phone in all of my rooms so I’d actually hear the phone ring. She is the fire that lights up the void in my heart. Anyway, grief takes time Katniss. When you’re ready, the world will be too.”

You were too busy conversing with Katniss to notice Johanna watching you as she leaned against the wall with a giant smirk on her face. Following Katniss’ gaze you found Johanna and winked at her. She grabbed your chin and pulled you in for a kiss.

“Ew get a room.” Katniss announced.

Johanna pulled away with a glare. “This entire house is ours, so if you don’t like it, you’re welcomed to leave Swamp Potato.” You felt her try to rush at Katniss but promptly held her hips.

“No, we are not doing this right now. Go sit down.” You pointed towards the table. “Now.” Johanna grumbled before dragging her feet as you kept your eyes on her. When she suddenly paused, you knew Katniss was doing something behind your back to aggravate your girl. “Katniss.” You said sternly. Johanna smirked and stuck out her tongue. All it took was a deep sigh for the two of them to stop their antics.

Haymitch who was looting your alcohol stash bellowed with laughter. “And this is why Finnick and Annie chose you to be their baby’s godmother.” You turned your glare towards Haymitch and the alcohol in his hands. He immediately shut up. “I’ll go sit down until dinner is ready.”

“I think you should.” You agreed with a nod.

Dinner was pleasantly quiet. Finnick and Johanna were sharing looks towards each other like they did in the Quarter Quell when they tried to hide the breakout plan from Katniss and Peeta. You had to pretend you didn’t see it and it was hard. Normally Johanna would be staring at you every chance she got, only avoiding eye contact with you when she had something to hide like that one time she accidentally unraveled the crocheted bunny you were making. Finnick was a little better tending to Flynn on the high chair to keep his hands busy.

Katniss slipped up once by saying marriage instead of margarine. Glares were thrown at her at the table as you mindlessly passed her the butter. Peeta ‘if it weren’t for the baby’ Mellark was an excellent liar but when the topic of cakes came up, you saw him tense when you told him that you loved the cake for Annie and Finnick, he choked.

Surprisingly enough, Annie was the best at keeping the secret. You had not expected it from your best friend having held her in her delirious state after her games and Finnick took to answering the interview questions. You were the first person who was patient with her, even scolding Finnick before the District 4 train left the Capitol to go home urging him to be more gentle with Annie. The Odair Family came over often after the war and with Finnick and Johanna being thick as thieves, you naturally became close with Annie. The woman was just enjoying her lobster the way she cooked them having no reaction to the word, marriage, ring or other related words. Though you could see her through your peripheral when she gave quick glances at you whenever you did something for Johanna and vice versa.

The tension was cut when the phone rang and you simply leaned back, balancing on your chair to reach for telephone. “Hello. Mason residence.” You watched as Johanna spit out her food. You always addressed the phone Mason and Y/L/N residence.

“Hi, Y/N congratulations on your engagement.” Beetee said on the other line.

“Oh that. Yeah that hasn’t happened yet.” You laughed. “I will send you the blanket as soon as possible. I’ve just been a little bit busy today.”

“Oh no I’ve ruined it. I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s okay. Call back tomorrow to check in okay?” You chuckled as the other hurriedly went dead.

“Who was that?” Johanna asked.

“It was Enobaria asking about the blanket I’m making her.” You nonchalantly lied going back to your food.

“I forgot that she existed.” Johanna mumbled. She had always been angry at Enobaria, mostly because of any of the victors left, you had once admitted that you had a crush on her. It never went anywhere of course but when Johanna found out, she grew a new hatred for the career woman. After the vote, when she had no fear of ‘being her weakness’ she pulled you by your collar as everyone was leaving and kissed you hard in front of them.

You were shocked at first but melted into the kiss as you could finally have her without hiding it. Finnick wolf-whistled as Haymitch laughed. Johanna would have taken you right in that room if you hadn’t had somewhere to be. You thanked Peeta for the reminder and held Johanna’s hand the whole way to the city circle for Snow’s execution.

Beside you, Johanna was muttering words you could barely make out. You heard words like love and forever as she continued to stutter her way through the speech you presumed would be the one she’d propose to you with. Her nervous habit of bouncing her leg became more apparent when she messed up and had to start over again. As you continued to pretend to listen to Finnick’s story about baby Flynn loving the forest and pointing at every tree you placed your hand on Johanna’s leg to calm her.

They loved to think they were discreet but you knew it was a segway to move the party outside to wherever Johanna was going to propose. You knew because Finnick stared at Johanna and even cleared his throat to get her attention. You also knew because Flynn couldn’t care less about the trees, the Odairs have been over enough times for you to know he liked the hanging deer toys more than anything.

You were at a cross between blurting out that you knew what was going to happen and seeing how long they would try to deceive you. Either way a little help wouldn’t be that bad in the long run. “Johanna’s lived here all her life, I bet she’ll know a spot.“

“I can take you all there.”

Everyone agreed to tidy up the dining room and kitchen before going to the spot. Washing the dishes was therapeutic for you, granted it would only be two dishes with you and Johanna’s plate. Now with 8 plates, you made Finnick help as Johanna ran outside chasing Flynn who was chasing the geese.

“Look at our babies.” Finnick chuckled.

“I think my baby is cuter than your baby.”

“No one is cuter than Flynn. Except for Annie.”

“Except for Annie.” You said at the same time he did, matching his mannerisms. He looked down at you shocked before you snickered. “Everyone has their opinion Finn.” You finished soaping the last plate and washed your hands.

“I’m going to tell Annie that.”

“No need. I can tell her myself.” You knocked on the window to get her attention outside and pulled the window open. “Hey Annie. Finnick thinks you’re cuter than your child.” You saw the red in her face.

Johanna who had looked up from the knocking said. “I hope you try to kiss her through the window and fall out.”

“She was so close.” Finnick told.

“To what? She was never the romantic type.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You shared a look with Annie and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Finnick. “How would you know that?” She asked. Finnick stammered before quickly changing the subject. That’s when it clicked, Annie also didn’t know about Johanna’s proposal. It made sense, she would have told you the second she walked in.

You might as well indulge your bestie. As the lot of you followed Johanna into the forest, you fell to the back and looped your arm around hers. “Annie, how are you?”

“Wonderful. It’s been so long since we’ve all had dinner together. I love it.”

You smiled. “I think you’re going to love it even more because Johanna is going to propose.” Your heart fluttered saying it out loud for the first time. It felt good.

Annie stopped and snapped her head towards you. “Are you certain?”

“Well yes Beetee actually called congratulating me on my engagement.”

“The one you said was from Enobaria?”

“Yeah.”

“So he knew?”

“I think they all do hence the gathering, the walk in the forest, Katniss saying marriage instead of margarine.”

“Aaaahhhhhh!!! Oh my god!” Annie jumped in her spot. Everyone turned their heads and you caught their questioning eyes.

“It’s fine. She just saw a giant bug.”

“I caught that too but didn’t think you heard because you just passed her the butter! Can I be your maid of honor?” She whispered.

“Um, do fish swim?”

Annie squealed and you had to shush her before everyone turned around again. “Is it supposed to be a surprise?”

“Oh yeah. They’re just bad at keeping a secret from me. I know them too well.”

The 8 of you continued your trek through the forest and slowly you remembered the forest around you from the times Johanna took you out here.

There was the small cabin with the broken window where Johanna disappeared to and proceeded to scare the living daylights out of you when you found her. It was scary at that time, but hilarious thinking back at it. “Hey Jo! Remember when you scared me in that cabin?” You yelled getting her attention in the front.

“You mean when I scared you so bad you fell over?”

“Yeah and then you sprained your ankle and we spent the rest of the day crying and laughing on the floor. Getting sticks in our hair.

“Good times.” Johanna smirked and you giggled.

The sun sent golden rays through the canopy spotlighting small areas of the forest floor. You forgot how beautiful it was out here, with the wind whistling through your hair and the leaves dancing in the air the sun There was a wooden info plaque in front of a young tree dated to the day you first kissed Johanna.

You had stopped at the 7th floor in the Capitol to comfort her after her tributes died in the bloodbath. Not many words were spoken but you silently held her hand as she cried knowing the feeling of losing your mentees for the first time. The hand holding quickly became engulfing her in your arms. The kiss wasn’t planned; your intention was to kiss her cheek as you left once she cried all her tears. Johanna had turned and your lips met for a brief second.

When you first found the tree after moving, you asked Johanna about it and that’s when she told you that whatever you had started on that day. You had a bigger impact on her than you thought initially. The tree was 5 years old now and already towering over you. You stood in front appreciating the pine tree.

Johanna strolled back to you with her hands behind her back, admiring you admiring the tree. “Enjoying yourself there?” She asked.

“You know, this was when I should’ve ran. You planted a tree the day we first kissed. It wasn’t even a real one.”

“It was real to me. It’s what got me addicted to your taste.”

“Obsessed much?”

“You’re the one that knitted a tapestry of me holding an axe.”

“First of all, it’s cross-stitching get it right, second of all, where did that go by the way? I feel like it disappeared.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but we can look for it after our walk.”

“Wait.“ You grabbed her wrist stopping her in her tracks. You found her jaw with your free hand and guided it to face you before kissing her. As you pulled away, Johanna tried to follow your lips. “Now that’s a real kiss.”

“I didn’t kiss you yet. It didn’t count.” She moved her arms to wrap around your waist and you slung your arms around her shoulders to deepen the kiss. Her hands traveled down your body to grope your butt.

“Let’s focus on the task at hand please.” Haymitch reminded as he grumbled.

Johanna got in a squeeze and started running before you could scold her. You couldn’t help but laugh at her childish manners. She and Finnick were the same. They’re children at heart but they have their moments of maturity.

Moments like this spot in the forest. You saw the glow in the forest and would have to admit that it got your heart fluttering. The last time you were out this far, Johanna convinced you to climb the towering trees and stay in the canopy. You were terrified of heights, hugging the tree like a koala, eventually prying your eyes open to appreciate the landscape. Johanna eased you out of your panic and carefully guided you down from it nearly two days later.

You were fine conversing with her throughout the day but the second you looked down, you tensed up and held the tree tighter. You weren’t convinced to come down until Johanna spotted storm clouds rolling in. It was when she was still fearful of water and threatened to leave you there because she would be rendered useless in it.

It was that day that she allowed herself to heal from her trauma, striking a deal with you that she’d help you with your fear of heights in exchange of being allowed to help her with hydrophobia. In the following months, you would both take steps to overcome come your fears. You could climb at least as tall as a house and be okay while Johanna was able to wash herself without cowering.

It was like a village in the sky, ladders and guard rails would keep you from falling and the fairy lights climbed up the wooden structure like vines. It was beautiful with all the gazebos with plenty of rooms.

“Wow. This is definitely a spot.” You sighed in awe. Finnick and Annie beelined it towards the swing as Johanna approached you.

“You wanna check out the gazebo?”

“Is it structurally sound? This was not here 3 months ago.”

“Are you doubting me?” Johanna feigns hurt.

“A little.”

“Finnick and I tested it. We’ll be okay.”

“Okay then.” You made your way to the ladder nailed to the tree and climbed up. Once the two of you made it to the platform, you caught Johanna’s smirk on her face.

“You’ve got a nice ass.”

“Thanks. You’ve got a good looking butt too.”

“I sure do.” Johanna smirks and you laugh continuing to walk through the treehouse. It was beautiful up here seeing the glow seep through the other trees. The bird calls slowing down for the night and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves. You looked down at the other victors and waved to them. “Do you like it?”

“I love it Jo.”

You continued to the gazebo where the sunflowers were blooming. There were empty bookshelves, a rocking chair in the corner and cushions on the ground over the tapestry Johanna said she had no idea was. Your heart fluttered over the idea that you would spend more time here with Johanna.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Johanna pat all of her pockets and relaxed after sticking her hands into her jacket pocket. She kicked the dust on the wooden platform. This was the moment and your heart rate picked up. The district 7 girl was muttering her speech again, messing it up and starting over.

You watched her for a few tries feeling your face warm up at the thought that Johanna wanted this to be perfect.

“Jo. I’ll marry you.”

“What?”

Your eyes traveled to her pocket then back up to her eyes. You crossed the small distance between the two of you and reached for her hands. “Johanna Mason. I know all this is because you want to propose.”

“How- was it Swamp Potato’s? I’ll kill her.”

“No. No need for killing.”

“Let be honest I knew something was up when I woke up and you told me everyone was coming over. I’m usually the one that comes up with the plans to hang out. My favorite meal, my favorite people, my favorite flower.

“Plus you were all running around like you had a secret. I was in on the plane to get Katniss and Peeta out of the arena remember. I know what you look like when you try to hide something. It’s horribly obvious.

“Also Haymitch almost said wedding gifts when showing me the geese. Are we keeping those by the way?”

“I don’t see why not. If they misbehave we’ll just eat them.”

You were around her long enough to not react to it. “Katniss saying marriage, I did notice that. And there’s also the fact that Beetee called to congratulate us about our engagement.”

“When did he call?”

“When I said it was Enobaria. Then there’s also you sitting next to me mumbling your speech to get it right. And let me just say, I would marry you with ring pop as long as forever means forever. You are insane and unhinged but deep down you have a heart. I’m so glad that I’m lucky to be the one who gets to see it, both literally and figuratively. Johanna Mason you are strong, smart, and a secret softie. You have no idea the light you bring into my life when you kept bothering me. I love you. You’re my life, you’re the reason I love waking up everyday.”

“Can you still act surprised when I get down on one knee?”

“Yes of course.”

Johanna hummed and pulled you into a kiss. “You were the first victor to ever reach out to me and make sure I was okay. It left a big impact on me to the point where I craved you. And hearing your voice on the other side of the line made my house less lonely. I loved that you picked up the phone before it even finished the first ring because it made me think that you wanted to hear me too.” You nod in agreement and Johanna’s smile widened.

“I was angry, at everyone, I still think I am but you always have the ability to calm me with a simple touch or even your alluring voice. You know when to hold me back from a fight and you know when to let me have at them.

“I want to do things with you like climb trees, lay in your lap as you work on your knitting projects, spoil Annie and Finnick’s kid, hike in the forest, cuddle, argue at each other until I flash you or until I have to sleep on the couch. I’ve already been through hell and back with you what’s a few more decades? Maybe even forever if You're up for it.“

You kissed her pulling her in for one. When she pulled away, she got down on one knee, and all her joints popped. She groaned as you laughed because your joints have been doing that since you met her. Her hooded eyes stopped you in your tracks. “I mean. Oh my god!” You acted covering your mouth in shock.

“Y/n L/n, will you marry me?”

“Yes! A thousand times- pffft.” You laughed at the cheesiness of it.

“Finish it. I have to be on my knees for this. The least you could do is finish it.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Fuck me.”

“She said that too.”

Despite the glare Johanna gave you, you could tell she was holding back her laughter.

You cleared your throat, “Yes! A thousand times yes.”

Johanna finally got up and popped her other joints groaning in the process. You laughed and hugged her as she placed the emerald ring on your finger. “Not a word.”

“Shut up about your old lady joints and kiss me.”

“Say less.” Johanna hummed and kissed you passionately. “SHE SAID YES!!!”

You couldn’t wait for the memories you would make with your fiancee and your future wife. “I love you.”

“SHE ALSO SAID SHE LOVES ME!” Johanna announced. You held her face in your hands. “AND I GET TO KISS HER!” She held you tight and you didn’t mind if she never let go as long as you had her.

[cityof2morrow]

JSB Grocery 002: (Functional Jacky93Sims Add-Ons)

Published: 1-13-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY This is a vending machine and functional seafood products to go with the JSB Grocery 001 set (Simmons, 2023). The machine itself vends groceries while shop owners can place sale items in the open interior – sell more items while using less space! Additionally, there are several seafood products which can be sold in OFB shops and used to stock fridges for food points. Some objects require shifting and/or placement cheats for ideal positioning. See below for details.

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §60-500 | Buy > Appliances > Large Appliances (Community Lot Only) The JSB Grocery 001 set (Simmons, 2023) and Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023) are BOTH required. Items with “MESH” in their filename are REQUIRED for textures/recolors to display correctly in-game.  Since some items are cloned from shelves, you may need to shift items up once for them to place properly. See below for more details and a download link.

Two items in one -purchase groceries by clicking on the machine itself. On OFB lots, place sale items (like the seafood products) on the vending machine shelf, then place the shelf behind the glass (you’ll need “move objects ON” and “snap objects to grid OFF” cheats). Let sims know what you’re selling by applying one of 21 swatches to the machine buttons. When it runs out of stock, the buttons will glow red.

ITEMS Vending Machine – (252 poly) – functions like the default grocery bin, use with shelving Vending Machine Shelf (196 poly) – place w/ “move objects” and “grid on/off” cheats Lobster (Small/Medium/Large) (530 poly) Lobster Package (974 poly) Fish Package #1 (679 poly) Fish Package #2 (861 poly) Fish Package #3 (689 poly) Fish Package #4 (798 poly) Fish Package #5 (730 poly) Fish Package #6 (796 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) MESHES from SFS | from MEGA RECOLORS from SFS | from MEGA *A known game bug may disable some OFB shelf slots. Not all players experience this bug in the same way, but if you do – there is a long-standing fix for it. If you cannot access more than 2 slots on shelves, download ONE of these fixes: MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves (Numenor, 2006) MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves+LOCKEDTILES (Numenor, 2006) Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023)

*Seafood is part of THIS set. The aquarium display is part of JSB Grocery 001 set (scroll back up for the link). CREDITS Thanks: Stockable Food Math (@curiousb), @chocolatecitysim, @kashmiresims, @jacky93sims, Waterpixels, Severinka_, BodegBaby. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), BBNiche1Master (BuggyBooz, 2012), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Cubic Dynamics (EA/Maxis), Dessert Deco Set (PForest, 2021), EA/Maxis, FFP in SimPE (@creesims, 2019), Great Groceries Display (Balkopat, 2020), Grocery Store Part 1 (Jacky93sims, 2023; Severinka, 2022; Bodegababy, 2021), Kitchen Basic (Hafiseazale, 2016; BuggyBooz 2008), Kitchen Basic Extras (Hafiseazale, 2016; BuggyBooz, 2010), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Other Imagery (EA/Maxis; Hyde, 2000-2013 via LightningCoyote), Steak Package (Patrakeevasveta, 2020/2021 via Creative Commons Attribution), Vending Machine (Robotic Earth, 2023 via Creative Commons Attribution), “How do I change object ‘weight’ for surfaces?” (Simmer22 via modthesims.com, 2017), Make Food Clutter Useable – A Tutorial (@deedee-sims, 2019),  Mini-Tutorial: Batch-fix Custom Objects to make them *placeable on OFB shelves* (Numenor, 2006), SimPE Resources (@gayars, 2022), Stockable Foods (CuriousB, 2023),  Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), “What restricts which object can go into which slots?” (Jonasn, 2023), Vegemite Jar (WR/HChangeri).

[sturniolotrip-samandcolby-lover]

Chris sturniolo -focus

Pairing -domChris x British reader fem

Summary -When you decide to show your boyfriend you favourite British show , he gets bored and decides to test how good you can focus .

Warnings - smut , swearing , fingering, unprotected sex, p x v intercourse , slightly Dom Chris ,Dirty talking ,bulge kink , cream pie , praising,multiple orgasms.mentions of spanking , mentions of rough sex , mentions of masturbation. Thats all I think let me know guys if I've missed anything.

Author note -use of y/n , first person and not proofread .

Word count -2k

"Chrisss it's starting" I shout to my boyfriend of 1 year , dragging out his name while he leaves his bathroom and makes his way over to the bed."I don't get why you love this show so much ain't it just about people baking" he replies to me as he lifts the thick blue quilt up so he can get into bed , allowing the cold air to hit my side I'm instantly overwhelmed by warmth as Chris lays beside me ."oh no it's so much more then just people baking , it's a competition , it's entertaining and most importantly it's funny when things go wrong" I say with overenthusiastic excitement describing my favourite show ' the great British bake off' ."sounds like it's even more sterotypically British then you are , what are they going to do in the breaks eat fish and chips with the queen" he says with a awful fake British accent laughing "babe the queen is dead" I say shocked by his choice of words "oh shit yeah" he says linking an arm around my waist as i roll onto my side facing the laptop , I feel Chris make himself comfortable behind me spooning me from behind with my back against his chest .I press play on the screen.

The theme song starts to play and I do my basic girl thing ofo doing a happy little dance eating a deep chuckle from Chris ."you and this show I'm starting to think you love it more then you love me" he whispers in my ear giving me a quick kiss onto my neck."hmmm possibly" I say with a smirk on my face winding him up .*wack* "oh really" Chris says smug as he smacks my ass i can almost hear the smirk in his voice.Resulting in a squeal and laugh from me .We watch the first quarter of the show in a comfortable silence as the adverts start I hear a sigh from Chris as his deep breath hits the back of my neck causing me have instant goosebumps.

He shuffles behind me so that his head is higher up then mine , bits of his hair tickling my cheek "you know what" he says with his voice in a deep whisper I can't help but feel butterflies in my stomach ."you look so beautiful right now" he says kissing my forehead .I feel my face get hot as I blush at his compliment " good job it's dark in here or you'd see me looking more red then a embarrassed lobster but thank you , you look beautiful too" I move my head so that I can reach his lips and I meet them with a light kiss , that both Chris and I smile into .We hear the show begin again so we both draw our attention back to it .

*5 minutes later*

We're still silent as we continue to watch the show when I feel Chris hand move under the waistband of the grey joggers of his that Im wearing, I try to focus on his laptop but the feeling of Chris's rough hands against the peachy flesh of my ass is slightly distracting."hmmm you're so warm mama" Chris talks into my ear more to himself then me.He rubs my ass cheek with his hand and I get deja vu from last time his hand rubbed my ass was last week when he caught me touching myself, Chris decided to teach me a lesson by spanking me and rubbing my ass to sooth me ."I must be that hot " I joke to him pretending to flick my hair , earning a laugh from him .I feel his hand start to move over my hip and close to my exposed core , causing me to let a small whimper of anticipation earning yet another laugh from chris."what are you doing y/n?" He whispers into my ear so innocently as if he doesn't know what he's doing .I keep my mouth shut knowing that the next noise that falls out of my mouth would be a moan ."answer me baby girl" chris says in a demanding tone ."trying to focus" i say through a breath to him ."shall we see how good you can focus mama" he says seductively "what do you me-" im cut off when his hand lands on my pussy with a quick smack."keep focusing on the laptop baby girl and you can cum and if you dont well take a wild guess who isn't coming tonight" He says to me finishing his sentence with another wack to my pussy , I nod my head signaling to chris that i understand."good girl" i hear him say as his fingers move up and down my slit getting coated in my juices ."so wet for me already and ive barely touched you" chris says causing a moan to fall out of my mouth .

"Please Chris , please" I say between breathless moans ."awe what is it baby" he says to me in a mocking tone "please just so something" I respond "well since you asked so nicely" he says in the same mocking tone as his fingers find my clit rubbing in quick circles I throw my head back against his shoulder as the instant ecstacy builds with every move of Chris's fingers "remember focus baby else you're not cumming tonight" he reminds me as my legs start to quiver around his hand."fuck..." I moan out closing my eyes thankfully that Chris was still behind me else he would of reminded me again to focus ."you're so good Chris" I squeal out "look at you already on the brink of cumming and I've not even went inside of you yet" I hear Chris say , sounding distant as I feel my release coming fast "please Chris please I need to cum I'm gonna cum" I say throw pants and moans ."go on baby be a good girl and cum" he says into my ear as his fingers move faster then they was previous as I feel my release overwhelm my body as I'm left a shaking , moaning mess while Chris continues rubbing my clit as he helps me ride through my orgasm ."so good mama , you look so pretty when you cum" he says as he pauses his movements "you're so pretty you're going to do it again " he continues all the attempt of focus has gone out the window as one of Chris's arms reach over me slamming the laptop shop his fingers that are still rest on my clit dives straight into my pussy as he pushes one into earning a instant moan " so tight baby even after I've already made you cum once you're tight" he says to himself more then me as he pushes a second finger in , plowing me he starts of deep and slow as his pace speeds up .The sound of my pussy wetness filling the room , Chris's fingers move so fast and so deep I can hear him talk to me but no words make sense I can't even place words myself I just have moans and whispers falling from my mouth as my second orgasm of the night builds up faster then the first one did ."so wet baby I can feel you clenching around me , do you wanna cum girl" he asks me hypothetically "yes god yes please Chris can I cum" the words leave my mouth in a embarrassing whining sound.Chris uses his spare hand to spread my shaking thighs as they try to close around his fingers , "gotta stretch you out ready to take my cock" I hear him says as he places a third finger into my wet pussy .He fingers go deeper and faster curling to touch my gspot as i throw my head back again as swear words, moans and Chris's name repeatedly falls out of my mouth as i cum for the second time tonight .Again he doesn't stop his actions until my body goes limp against his .He pulls his fingers out of me as i hear him sucking my juices off , i move around in his arm so i could face him when im greeted with his lust filled blue eyes staring into my dazed ones as he sucks his fingers clean of my juices .

"You good baby girl" he asks me I nod my head in agreement to him ."good cus you're gonna do it one more time " he says as he rolls me over already taking my jogging bottoms off."Chris I don't know if I can" I say tiredly to him "you can baby just one more time , cum around my cock let me fill you up mama " he whisper to me grabbing my chin so he can move my head so that I look at him ."okay" I say to him "I wanna watch you cum again" he says as he holds me legs up and open and rest the head of his dick at my entrance before he thrusts in stretching me perfectly, we both let out moans , with our mouths open and staring into each others eyes. He starts thrusting into , fucking me mercilessly .I feel his cock go deeper inside of me I move my hand over to my stomach when I feel a bulge it's Chris dick he's so deep inside of me that he's actually made a bulge in me ."feel this" I say to him between moans as I grab Chris's hand and move it over to where he dick is making itself well known in me."fuck im so deep in you" he said still holding my face so our mouths are touching as we speak were that close .

Chris never slack in his movement as he continues to thrust into me at a inhumane speed , I'm left almost screaming against his mouth showing the Chris that I'm near my release."you're shaking baby" Chris states with a smirk as his hand that is still holding my leg up reaches further up and rubs my already over sensitive clit fast and nearly coming " keep your eyes on me baby , I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock" he says and that's all that it takes for me to release myself over him "good girl such a good girl" he says to me as he helps me ride out my final orgasm ."please Chris" I say to him as my body is exhausted after my orgasms Chris shows no mercy and continues to fuck me relentlessly "what baby" he says in the same mocking tone from earlier "cum Chris please fill me up I want to feel your load" those last few dirty words are all that is needed as its chris time to moan into my mouth as i feel his long hot strings of cum coat my walls .He stills and pulls out of me leaving us both a panting mess as he kisses my now sweaty forehead "im so proud baby , you took me so well".are the last words i hear chris say before i fall asleep with my head against his chest .

[hms-incorrect-quotes]

soul n mind

[id: screenshot of texts. the right message is "hey i need your help I'm in danger of leaving everything behind to work as a deckhand on a local lobster fishing boat in Massachusetts". the left message, after that, is "nothing i can say will make that less alluring to you right now". end id]

[legend-as-old-as-time]

All for the organic'd off shoot food hcs <3 i went way overboard <3 help <3

Kopaka: more curious about tastes than eager to eat, he collects them kind of like cards. Big fan of fatty meat of any kind, will devour it without even noticing. Not that big on vegetables

Pohatu: would eat cardboard if vaguely salted. Has a fondness for anything vaguely dumpling- or pie-like, and he likes offering bites to others before scarfing the whole thing down his throat

Gali: same as Pohatu, though she prefers veggies and fish and seafood and slugs and algae and bite sized fruits like grapes or berries. Shes really likes jello for some reason too

Onua: same as Pohatu and Gali but hes more of a bread and potatoes guy. Can and will carve out a pumpkin with his bare hands and eat it in one sitting if left unsupervised

Lewa: finally someone NORMAL about food!! Prefers slimy things like mushrooms and eels or juice-heavy fruit, but otherwise will try a bit of everything. Likes stuff fried or steamed

Tahu: very sensitive to consistency, too soft foods trigger his gag reflex. Likes nuts, raw veggies, insects, crayfish, lobsters, crabs, burnt stuff... Not as resistant to spices as you'd think

Jaller: the Capsaicin Conqueror, bites into ghost peppers unscathed. Soup savorer, with time will be able to whip out broths that could make Vakama Metru forgive himself

Hahli: mussels!! Oysters!! Clams!! Sea urchins!! Squids!! Octopi!! Big noodle slurper who canNOT handle sauce. She will get it Everywhere. Enjoyer of endives and hater of seasonings

Nuparu: genuinely cannot handle chewing so aside form jello everything needs to be blended into a smoothie. He slams back concoctions that would make a Makuta shiver. Taste is optional

Hewkii: could eat through the cheese caves if released within them. Hates seafood but everything else is fair game. Has tried Nuparu's horrible smoothies and survived several times

Kongu: texture is a big factor and he cant handle too slimy or too fatty things bc of this. Likes acidic or bitter flavors, sauces, dried fruit, and bugs. Refuses to eat poultry

Matoro: the concept of "doomed by the narrative" be damned my boy can hunt game and work a grill

Whenua: slurper of worms... Big fan of turnips for some reason. Its hard for him to find anything he doesnt like really

Nuju: loves poultry and butter and fish and berries and nuts... Stews... Creamy soups... God he loves eating. He could do it for hours

Vakama: vegetables and small game, cooked underground or boiled. Eats spiders by reflex for reasons you can imagine

Matau: LOVES poached eggs. Herbs n spices n fruits are his favorite. Unusual meats for him, like frogs and lizards

Nokama: will bite through any shell and bone no problem. Discovers a taste for bone marrow. Very picky with vegetables

Takanuva: if it were up to him he would eat only sweet things. lactose intolerant. Will that stop him from scarfing down gallons of cream? No babey!!!

Thank you! And thhose are neat headcanons!!

[hottpinkpenguin]

Dragon's Fire - Ch. 1

Aemond Targaryen X Fem!Reader A/n: I'm in my writing-for-whatever-show-i'm-currently-watching era and I'm not apologizing. let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! WC: 2018 Warnings: graphic descriptions of wounds; non-canon

You squatted next to the stream, exhaling into your cupped palms and rubbing your hands together to try and cajole some dexterity back into your fingers. The nights were getting colder, you noted as your breath turned to steam in the early morning air. What was it the Starks always said? Winter was coming. You shivered, whether for the cold or for the chill of foreboding that raced along your spine you weren’t entirely sure. 

You dug around in your satchel for the small hammer you used to break up the thin screen of ice that had formed along the surface of the stream. Having located it, you thwunked once, twice, three times until the tool cracked the ice. The gurgling water beneath was clear and unbelievably cold, the sensation digging bone-deep as you dipped your hands into the running water. You splashed a few handfuls across your face to invigorate you, shaking off the fog of sleep in the process. Gasping from the shock, you busied yourself with dunking your waterskin and filling the two buckets you used each day for cleaning and cooking. 

Your morning routine hadn’t changed in the four years since you’d come to Sea Dragon Point from King’s Landing. The hardships you’d endured in this cold, foreign land had at first burdened you to the point of almost breaking you. In your past life as an understudy with the dragonkeepers, you’d never had to concern yourself with such trivial tasks like fetching your own water. You had fled King’s Landing without thinking through the consequences of scratching a living out of the woods and the rocks and the soil. The only consequence that had been on your mind was your own execution, a threat that had spurred your flight from the capital city to this desolate, forgotten place. When you’d first come to Sea Dragon Point, you’d had a few supplies still from the larders and the pantries of King’s Landing. After you’d eaten through those, you’d found yourself on the brink of starvation and coming to terms with the fact that you knew nothing about how to survive on your own. Necessity had taken over after a few weeks, however, and you’d begun doing what needed to be done. And here you were, four years later, with little in the way of material possessions to show for your years of hard work, but immeasurably more capable and knowledgeable about life outside of the Red Keep than you’d ever dreamed possible.

After filling your buckets and the waterskin, you checked the fishing lines you’d set the night before. Of the five you had, only two had snared prey, and only one was worth keeping. You tossed the juvenile freshwater rock lobster back into the frigid stream, its shell too soft and its meat too sparse to make it worthwhile. The hefty river trout that your other trap had snared, however, would make for a fine meal, and maybe you’d have enough leftover to salt into strips of jerky. You spiked the fish quickly, not wanting it to suffer, before beginning to scale and gut it on the riverbank. The cold water would clean the fish nicely, you knew. 

You were so intent on your task that you almost missed the telltale snap of a twig behind you. Almost. Unsheathing the dragonglass dagger you kept tucked into your belt at all times, you turned quickly and rose from your crouch to full height with the blade extended in front of you in the direction of the noise. The sight before you stole the breath from your lungs. 

Leaned against a tree a few hundred yards from you was a ghost from your past. Glossy silver hair, pale skin, a sharp proud jawline, and a black patch over one eye. Aemond. 

The dagger in front of you dropped to the frostbitten ground as your hands flew to your mouth in shock. 

“Aemond!” Your mind was frozen somewhere between running to him and cursing his name, so you stayed unnaturally still, staring at him in disbelief. He chuckled at the note of terror? relief? adoration? in your voice, but immediately winced and doubled over. You hadn’t noticed before, but suddenly the details of the man before you came into focus. He was paler than usual - if such a thing were possible for a Targaryen - and he was grabbing at the bark of the tree for support, his other arm wrapped tightly against his gut as if holding himself together. Thick dollops of blood were dripping from his hand and forearm, and the single eye he still had was glassy with pain. 

Moments before he toppled forward, you rushed to him, closing the space between you two and catching him with your body. He was taller than the last time you’d seen him, and more solid. You grunted with the effort of keeping him upright as his legs turned to liquid underneath him. 

“You’re hurt,” you noted as if admonishing him. He chuckled again. 

“Ever the astute observer,” he quipped weakly. Unable to hold him standing any longer, you tried your best to twist his body until his spine was against the trunk of the pine tree that he’d been clinging to moments before, easing him down into a sitting position. There were a thousand questions rattling around your mind like bees - how did he find you? how long had he known where you were? what had happened to him? how did he get here? why had he come? who else knew you were here? - but you couldn’t get them to be silent long enough to grab at one and force it out of your mouth. For the second time, you felt yourself frozen to the spot, your chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline. 

A few moments passed before he managed to fix you with a piercing stare despite a blood loss-induced fog of delirium. “I had rather hoped you’d help me,” he rasped, motioning meaningfully to his bloodied arm with his eyes. You shook your head as if in a daze, your mouth opening without sound coming out. Why? How? Who? 

“Please, y/n,” he added effortfully after watching you gasp futilely for words. “I’m dying.” The intensity with which he met your gaze knocked something loose inside you. Your heart twisted inside your chest as you quickly looked at his wounds. The arm he was favoring had a large gash running down the length of his forearm, and he was bleeding freely from it. The edges of the wound were burned and jagged, like the flesh had been torn rather than cut. You recognized the wound instantly as a dragon’s claw mark. Having seen so many of those wounds yourself as a dragonkeeper, you’d never forget it. 

You reached for Aemond’s wounded arm, careful not to disturb the wound itself. He winced and bit down hard on his lip to stifle a groan of pain as he carefully extended his arm towards you. You moved aside the torn shreds of his leather bracer, still laced at the elbow, to get a closer look at the wound. The amount of blood he was losing suggested that the claw must have nicked an artery. He’d need stitches and cauterization, after cleaning the wound thoroughly. With any luck, Aemond might escape a deadly fever with the right herbs. You cursed your circumstances that you were here, hundreds of miles from the well-trained healers of the Red Keep, although Winterfell was only a hard day’s ride. You might be able to buy whatever Aemond needed in Winterfell, although you doubted you’d have access to the same level of supplies that you’d grown accustomed to in King’s Landing. 

“You’re not dying, Aemond,” you soothed, poking tenderly at the flesh of his arm to test the muscles beneath. At worst, you’d have to amputate his arm beneath the elbow. As it was his right hand - his dominant - it would be an adjustment and likely a blow to his ego, but men had lived with far more grievous injuries. You chuckled softly as the surge of panic his words had wrenched out of you began to ebb. 

“It’s not the arm,” he groaned. His voice sounded thick, as if he were talking through cotton. You looked up in confusion. His face had grown paler and there was a sickly, greenish cast to his skin that terrified you. He jutted his chin downward in the direction of his chest. Your eyes followed his gesture, raking over every inch of him, scouring him for signs of injury. 

When you finally saw it, your heart sank into your stomach like a stone in deep water. You hadn’t noticed it initially against the black of his armor. Running up the right side of his torso and cutting across the front of his torso from left hip to right armpit was an enormous, blackened swath of flesh and armor melted together. His skin was almost completely burned off, revealing muscle and sinew and fat underneath, much of that fused with the plates of his black and gold-threaded plackart where it had turned molten against his body. His flesh was twitching, nerves and damaged muscles spasming in pain. With each breath, you saw Aemond fight against a new wave of agony. 

Unable to look anymore, you turned your head away, hot tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. You knew what you’d seen: a death sentence. You fought to steady yourself and to bite down the wave of nausea that climbed up the break of your throat. When you turned back to him, he was staring into you with an intensity that terrified you. He hadn’t looked at you like that since the first night you’d…

You swallowed back the bile and the memories, unable to let yourself get distracted now, with his life in the balance. Now you understood why he’d come here, why he’d risked everything - his life, and yours - to get to you in this remote place. He knew your skill with healing, and he knew that you were familiar with this type of injury. As if confirming your thoughts, he nodded, the motion eliciting a new wince of pain. 

“Dragon fire.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. You already knew the answer. He nodded again, his eye closing as he took a few shallow breaths. 

You took in the state of his injury once more. How you’d missed the acrid, sulfur-like stench of his burn initially was a mystery. It assaulted your nose now, threatening to bring up that wave of bile you’d barely managed to swallow down. You couldn’t see how far along Aemond’s back the burn extended, but you were grateful to see that his neck, arms, and legs look relatively unscathed, with the exception of that gruesome gash. 

“I need to get you back to my hut,” you stammered out, trying to swat away the small twinge of embarrassment at calling your home a hut, although it was arguably the most appropriate word you could come up with. If Aemond noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodded once and braced himself against the back of the tree. You carefully lifted his left arm up and threw it over your shoulders, bracing his body weight against yours as he rose precariously to his feet. You were careful not to touch him wherever he was burned, but it was near impossible with his entire torso wreathed in charred flesh. 

“Do what you have to,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I won’t stay conscious much longer.” You took his meaning: you had to get him where he needed to go as quickly as you could, pain be damned. Stealing your own nerves, you shimmied up right against him, taking more of his weight, and started off in the direction of your home. He roared in agony most of the way, fighting to keep his screams from breaking loose. Aemond barely made it inside and onto the single cot you slept on before his eye lolled shut and he slipped into unconsciousness…

read chapter 2 here

[thesamoanqueen]

Blackwater XIII

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: drama, angst.

A/N: since things were going well on one side, they couldn't go well on the other. Life lessons~

She had taken off her dress like a soldier takes off his armour. She hadn't actually fought, maybe only for a few minutes and with words, not with claws and fangs, but she couldn't really complain. Mate or not, she was the stranger and even though she had never been in that role before, she guessed it was normal to have questions about her. On the other hand, it hadn't lasted long, they had lowered their guard before Roman arrive, without saying a word about the trial and Y/N found herself spending the whole lunch between stories of when he was a kid, future meetings and lobsters that disappeared from the table with bottles of wine. It had been nice, putting her in a good mood, but the tension remained until they returned home, just the two of them.

We did it.

She had never cared what people thought of her. Those had always been just wrong opinions and she had done everything to stay as far away as possible from everything and everyone, but now it was different. She had a reason to prove who she was, a million reasons to stay, to build something and even if she had to step out of her comfort zone, it hadn't been bad. Or at least that had been her impression until she returned downstairs, joining Roman who instead didn't seem to want to move from the deckchair by the pool where he had gone to sit.

- I thought it did well - she admitted, accepting his hand when he turned to look at her, a quick and brief smile seeing her with one of his hoodie on.

Something was occupying his head, Y/N could feel it too throught the bond without having to physically feel the tension of his muscles under clothes, as she caressed the back of his neck to calm him.

Maybe they don't-

- It's like that, they both love you – he reassured her, his big brown eyes now looking at her honest smile.

- I like them too... they're amazing.

They really had been with her. His mama had even hugged her when they said goodbye – even though Y/N had risked a paralysis upon contact – and his father, so intimidating at first, had insisted on setting up another meeting after she had offered to accompany him on a fishing trip. He hugged her. They were cute, reminding her of the times when she was a daughter too, she liked them and it was truly more than she ever imagined she could have in her future. A real family.

Lulled by that sensation, Y/N softened against him, his big hand moving lazily on her thigh until it stopped to draw circles on her caramel skin, eyes focused on that point with a serious look.

- You didn't ask why I was late – he mused and Y/N lowered her shoulders with a heavy breath.

So all his thoughts were born from her meeting with the mayor, document dealer, whoever was that man who had tried to speak the voice of authority with her and Solo that morning?

- I did everyone a favor, trust me, whatever Paul says

- Pearce doesn't matter – Roman cut short and Y/N turned to look at him.

If he wasn't late for that appointment, then what?

- I chose to listen to you about my cousins.

Y/N found herself smiling before even nodding.

The informations she had about the border were not so many. Roman avoided talking about it if she was around, much like he had avoided talking about the trial and she had resigned herself to his attempts to keep her away from certain matters, but she knew enough. Whatever loss the twins and therefore the entire Bloodline had suffered, didn’t justify the vibe between them and Roman. She had arrived there seeing them bond like the family they were and now they didn't even speak to each others. It shouldn't have been this way, it didn't really matter what happened and what impact it had, they were still standing, they could still be together, rebuild, start again and that was all that mattered. If she still had some of her family, she wouldn't have to go through everything that happened to her after, they were lucky to still be there for each other and she was happy that Roman decided to make that effort for everyone.

She knew he didn't want to. She felt it. But that step would have been good for everyone, including him.

- It will mean a lot to them – she reminded him, caressing the back of his neck once again.

He didn't move though, his eyes still trained on her, the same expression as he stared at her.

- What's up? – she asked – no jokes about you listening to me. I'm happy you decided to do it

- You're happy for them

- I'm happy for everyone

For them, for him, what was the difference? From what she knew, solving that problem at the border would improve the situation for the entire family. And yes, they would finally stop spending weeks outside trying to fix things, they would start again and so for him, finding himself with one less problem to deal with.

- I'll have to go there, is this okay too? – he asked again and Y/N let her hand slip away.

She hadn't been with him during other fights, but she knew what was out there. She had also gotten her hands dirty in very bad situations and she hadn't thought for a single second that it would be easy, but she was sure that he could do it. Roman was the alpha with the largest territory ever seen in that country for decades, no one had done what he did, he was strong and any obstacle they would put in front of him he could handle it. He had a pack that everyone feared, now her too was there to watch his back, he had nothing to worry about even looking at the situation with all the caution possible.

-You will not be alone, you are never alone – she noted with a glance and Roman tensed.

- It will become my responsibility.

- It doesn't have to, we'll do it together if-

- You will stay here.

What?

What?

She had heard wrong. He hadn't said it. He couldn't have said that. She was his mate and at that moment it was impossible for him to leave her behind. They had to be together. He had managed to leave her alone in a room only after months, he still didn't allow her to go around without Solo or someone to supervise, it was physically impossible for him to move away from her and voluntarily decide to leave her there. And even though he didn't say it and Y/N never thought about it again, she knew that Roman was terrified of losing her or that she might leave. Going away without her, walking away from her when he hadn't even marked her... was out of any discussion. He-… he couldn't be serious.

But as absurd as the possibility seemed, Roman also seemed equally convinced, and her disbelief turned too quickly to offense.

Because it was unthinkable yes, but he was serious. He was leaving her behind.

- Why?! – she demanded to know, her gaze hardening as she watched him bob his head in an attempt to control himself.

- Y/N

- I swear if you say it's for my good-

- You'll stay here.

- No. I won't stay and wait and make dinner for you, I’ll be there too. I owe it to the boys and-

- Now stop! – he exploded with a growl and for a long moment Y/N felt his rage, his wolf, inside her head, as had already happened on the night of the trial.

His hand was threatening to leave a mark on her leg, but Roman released his grip as soon as her body began to feel uncomfortable, clenching his fist around nothing, his shoulders hunched and his gaze lowered. Y/N watched him inhale slowly, blood pumping through his veins and something heavy pressing down on his chest that she wasn't sure was simple annoyance at his rejection. There was more and her hand moved without even having to think, covering his to push him to look up again.

- I can help- she tried, but Roman silenced her before finishing.

- Then for once do what I tell you to do.

***

Jey had dragged him there, lets give him another chance he had said. They both knew how it would end, they had been playing that game since they were four and he always won, ignoring anyone who got in his way, but Jey believed in second chances. Even though they had passed the second one so long ago that they had lost count.

They had grown up like brothers, always together, under the same roof, eating at the same table, doing the same things, hanging out with the same people. They had shared more with Roman than they had with Solo, but he wasn't truly their brother and it was moments like this that showed it, always. When things got bad, you always had to think about Roman. When something needed to be done, it was for Roman. When someone had to take precedence, that someone was Roman. They had grown up together, but he knew he was different, he knew he had been chosen and he had taken advantage of it without remorse, without thinking twice, throwing them into the mud when they tried to take a step further.

He and Jey had earned everything. They had worked hard and done the impossible to get to where they were, but he had taken away the chance to that last step, to really reach him, to really be by his side or show him that he was not so special. By all means, even those that a brother would never use against you. Jey pretended otherwise, lowered his head, looked away and started from scratch every time, but that was too much.

Get up. Stop that.

His voice echoed in his head, begging, scolding him.

Hell, nah. He wouldn't have smiled and nodded to keep the circus going that time, he was tired. They were in this situation because of him, as always because Roman was involved and they had to support him. They had spent the last month at the border, toiling, fighting and now after being scolded, punished like kidz, he also had to accept being humiliated and deprived of what was rightfully his? Even what he had earned?! No way.

- We've got your back, Uce – Jey doubled the dose, positioning himself in front of him to shield him, when Roman turned to look from the car on which he was still holding his ass.

Why the hell his brother loved him so viscerally, Jimmy had never understood. They were a family, he loved Roman too despite everything, but Jey was on another level and had always turned against him in the worst way. He still remembered the day he'd seen Roman nearly split Jey’s head in half for that title of chief, the same day he'd choked him almost dead.

- The Wiseman will let you know what to do next – Roman interrupted, without shaking hands or greetings, rolling up the window again.

He watched him and Paul leave them there, Solo silently getting back into the car and Jey still standing in front of him, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, shoulders turning. Together they could stop him, make him see reason and give him a dose of reality if he didn't want to do it, but his brother was still not ready after all those years.

- He's taking what's belong to us – he exploded, not caring if they were far enough or not.

- We can't leave things as they’re, he's right-

- He's taking what's belong to us, you get it or not?! – he repeated again and Jey turned to look at him, his brow furrowed.

Those territories weren't just the Bloodline's, they were theirs. Of him and of his brother, they were their legacy, their future. They had lost them, they had ended up in the wrong hands, now they answered to others, but if they ended up under Roman's direct control... they could forget about them. For the rest of their days, because he wouldn't give them up.

- Solo will be there too.

- He will give him trash, as he has always done with us.

Silence. Yes…

They had already been there. They had learned over time, growing up, understanding. For Solo it was new, but Roman had already dragged him into his game and they both knew that he would not have reserved a different end for him, especially not now that he was creating something else for himself, not now that his future was the goal and not the one of the entire family. He would have taken everything, passing over anyone. Their offense was an excuse to take more.

He pulled the bag out of the closet near the entrance, throwing it in front of the door without even checking what was inside. He no longer even made the effort to pack his bags, he kept them ready just in case the great Tribal Chief decided to send them to clean up who knows what corner of his empire after a nap. He saw Naomi on the couch, crossing her arms, watching him kick a misplaced box and slam the door.

- Say it – he huffed exasperatedly, he knew that expression.

- Y/N said she would talk to him-

Talk, ha! That was funny!

- And you believed her? – another look. He knew that face too.

- Maybe she actually did and Jey is right.

He really hoped that was the case, because otherwise they would find out later but he wouldn't stand by and watch that time. He would have been ready for everyone.

***

He was alone, but the Wiseman's voice still echoed in his head through his earbuds, as if he had never left, as if Roman hadn't locked himself in the gym to release tension and avoid everyone.

His muscles were starting to pull, a sign that tiredness was setting in, but his legs still bent, his arms still holding the barbell on his shoulders, sweat running down his back soaking the shirt now stuck to his skin. He had to bear that burden, he had to bear his family, he had to bear the bullshit of his cousins and the looks they cast blaming his choices. Choices that he had made because of them and which now forced him to plan everything ten moves in advance, so as not to put at risk even what was currently far from the teeth of his enemies.

- They both know they'll have to stay on the second line while you're there - Heyman reported, as Roman forced another push-up and another.

He would cross the border again for the first time in months, but it was different now. Previously, the attempts of the outsiders were annoyances, not real problems. Before it had been like going hunting, playing with his prey and then getting it out of the way. Now they had ripped something away from him, they were throwing it in his face to humiliate him and even though he knew he would teach them a lesson, that he would take back what was rightfully his, he didn't have the slightest desire to put anything else at risk. No stray would have run away with a shred of what was his, that lesson had to be useful to everyone and ensure they would stay away from his land, his home, Y/N and their future.

- Is it clear? – he asked through clenched teeth, blood pumping, gaze fixed in front of him.

- Absolutely, my Tribal Chief. Everything will remain under control – Heyman quickly assured.

- Well, finish organizing everything and let me have the report tomorrow.

He didn't even wait for another answer, dropping the barbell to the floor with a thud to rip off the earbuds and catch his breath.

Without his voice in his head, the room was silent and for a long moment Roman remained there, taking advantage of that calm, of the peace that surrounded him. Everything seemed incredibly distant, there were no problems, nothing to conquer, no empire to defend, just an empty room and his heart slowly returning to beating normally. He looked distractedly at the clock on the wall, he had been down there for three hours, now it was even past dinner time.

With a heavy breath, he took a towel to dab the sweat on his neck and opened the door, stepping out to put an end to this voluntary withdrawal. In the house there were still some lights on and Roman followed them to the kitchen, surrounded by the same silence that had enveloped him as soon as he had finished talking to the wiseman and stopped training. The living room with its huge couches was tidy, not a cushion out of place and so was the dining room, with its vase of flower and all the chairs lined up. When he arrived in the kitchen only the lights under the forniture were on, the counter empty, but Y/N had placed a message on the fridge.

She had cooked the dinner for him.

“I won't wait and make you dinner!”

She had done it.

He narrowed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

No date just the two of them. They hadn't even had dinner together and even though he sensed she was around by their bond, he didn't even have any idea where she was or what she had done after the argument they had. They had spent the afternoon apart, him locked in the gym and her doing who knows what. But she had cooked dinner for him and in silence Roman warmed up the plate she had left, eating with no one beside him to talk and his gaze fixed beyond the window, from which he could see the edge of the forest.

We promised to take care of her.

He remembered it. It was a constant thought in his mind. A priority need that he was putting first on that occasion too, but it was difficult to explain, it was difficult for her to accept and he couldn't distract himself, not when now there was so much at risk for their future.

They will not screw this.

He finished eating alone, put the plate away alone and went back through the house alone, heading upstairs to at least get the sweat off him, since the weights on his shoulders remained. Up there the situation was no different, a few lights on along the hallway and silence again. When he reached the bedroom he almost expected not to see her, to start worrying that she was out in the middle of the night but instead there she was, with his hoodie still on, curled up in the corner of the bed with her back to him.

He stopped in the doorway to look at her, waiting for a reaction, a sign. Because he knew that she was angry and Roman had learned the hard way what happened when she was angry, for a whole month and instead nothing, not a movement, a word, a breath. He approached slowly, looking at her as he had done for hours, days, when she had just arrived and he could do nothing more.

- Y/N… – he called her softly, but Y/N didn't answer or move.

She had fallen asleep without him.

The thought of it made his mouth curl in annoyance, prompting him to turn and walk to the bathroom. He needed a shower, to burn himself and get rid of that terrible feeling that was sticking to his skin like an indelible stain.

***

She had slept in a corner, trying not to move, her body tense, ears open as hadn't happened for some time now. She had heard him return to their bedroom the night before covered in sweat, she had heard him call her, but she had been unable to answer and he had not even reached out his hand to touch her. He had spent the night like this too, in the opposite corner, far from her, without breathing her scent or holding her under his arm as he always did, until daylight broke and he disappeared for daily routine.

She was left wondering what had happened, curled up in the hoodie she had slept in, one of many of him that she had gotten into the habit of stealing because for some strange reason it made her feel better. But that time it hadn't worked, it hadn't been the same and Y/N had put it away to go on her run, but her run wasn't going as well as she should have either.

Why did it seem so difficult even when things were getting better? The problems at the border could be solved, the elders did not pressure him anymore, his parents were even happy that he had found her, and she tried to let go of old habits to build something together. Yet with every step they took, something else jumped out and a part of her was now starting to wonder if maybe she was seeing things wrong.

She stopped to smell the roots of one of the many trees that surrounded her, her almost reddish paws dug a small furrow at the edge of the path near the house. She recognized that smell, she didn't have to concentrate to know that he too had passed through there on his way back.

He had seemed so exasperated the day before, as if dealing with her was the point of no return and she had felt angry, frustrated and hurt. Y/N wanted to help, support him, she was trying to be what she was supposed to be, a good mate, yet it was quite clear that she wasn't doing that.

She went up the path, arriving at the empty back of the house and shifting only when she was in the garden. The house was quiet, lots of space and many empty rooms, but Y/N knew even without having to check that he was there and not out doing who knows what. They hadn't spoken since the day before, since the argument they had near the pool and quickly, Y/N crossed the living room, stopping just before the stairs, when her eyes fell on the bag next to the front door.

I don't like it.

When Roman turned to look at her, leaving the kitchen, his expression was impassive, but her wolf cried anyway even though she had just growled her disapproval of whatever he was doing and kept doing, after checking her with a glance.

Not a word. He hadn't even tried to get closer.

I don't like it!

- What are you doing? – she asked softly, ignoring the wolf voice in her head, while he placed who knows what inside the bag and got back on his feet.

- It's just a couple of changes.

He cannot leave us here!

He was actually doing it instead.

- ... are you already leaving? – she didn't think it would happen the next day, she thought it would take more time, a few days, that Paul would have to prepare things.

- We've left them running around for too long.

She nodded in silence, even though he had his back to her, evidently busy arranging what was necessary for that trip.

She had thought several times about the twins and all the time they had spent away from home in the last month, now it was his turn. He would have gone there in their place, crossed the border, met those who threatened them and it would not have been a peaceful encounter. It was necessary, indispensable for their family and she had asked him to do it first, but now a part of her couldn't think of anything other than how they were about to part ways for the first time since they had met.

- You can do it. I know you can – she said, swallowing a heavy breath.

Roman stood, silently with his back to her for a long moment until Y/N saw him turn again, slow and inexorable as always, to move towards her. A shiver ran through her body feeling him close to her again, sensing his true scent, his big brown eyes scanning her even before his hand rose to caress her face. Y/N felt his thumb rub over her soft cheek, graze her plump lips and move down her chin, hand covering her throat for a moment as he always did when he was deep inside her, then stopping at her weak spot near the shoulder and squeezing just enough to make her knees tremble.

- I’ll do it. Im not one of my cousins.

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