#I've come back to this wip lately

[inktrailing]

DW: I'll stop the whole world (snippet)

The utter pandemonium is music to his ears. By now, they've reached the central area, where looking over the railing they can see all the floors as one large circular structure. Many of the guards have succeeded in their recapture, dragging inmates of all species back to their cells. On other floors, guards and prisoners lay dead. The sound of screams soothes him.

“Counterbalance,” the Master says, quiet, taking pause to lean against the railing and look down at what he instigated.

“What?” the Doctor asks, confused. He steps up besides him.

“Saving you,” the Master explains. He refuses to look at the Doctor. “Provides counterbalance for me.”

The Doctor frowns. “Without me you could conquer galaxies, without fail, I bet.”

He shrugs. “It'd be... trivial. Where's the challenge?” He glances over, briefly, at the Doctor. “You're the best.”

“Thanks?” The Doctor isn't sure what to do with that. “How many floors are left, do you think?” he asks instead.

“Twenty, maybe. Give or take. It's no Shada, though perhaps it's inspired.”

“PRISONER #4812,” a voice booms. They turn to face a wall as it slides open and reveals a golden-black aloy gargoyle. It steps out, grinding against the ground with every footfall. “YOU ARE TO BE RETURNED TO YOUR CELL. SURRENDER YOURSELF.”

The Master raises his gun before thinking better of it. “Time to go!” he yells, fear finding him for the first time since arriving to Teskia. He turns and runs, the Doctor on his heels. Wings scrape metal behind them and after nearly smashing the railing, it's flying, impossibly so.

“How are we supposed to outrun that?”

“I really wish I knew!” the Master answers, panicked. “You know, counterbalance really isn't worth this much!”

“I'm worth plenty!” The Doctor glances over his shoulder at the metal monster gaining on them and fumbles with the Master's screwdriver. “I have a really bad idea!” He activates it, cutting through the other end of a thin metal bridge, watching it wobble and creak down to the next floor. “Annnnd—” He races past the Master, grabs the nearest railing of the bridge, and vaults himself over the edge, sliding down until he's out of railing and drops the rest of the way. “—down we go!” he exclaims triumphantly.

The Master slams into him as he follows, and they make in a breakneck run.

“Why am I the only one this thing is chasing!” the Doctor yells, ducking fast from a galvanized hand and bouncing off the barrier of a sealed cell, slipping under the arm.

“Don't let it go to your ego but you're probably the single most valuable prisoner in this place,” the Master answers, skidding to a stop as the gargoyle crashes down on the stairwell before them, hands wrapping around railings and melting them beneath its grip, crumpling the entire structure and flying back into the air. “Oh,” the Master says. “That's a problem.”

The Doctor stares. “Is there another way down?”

“Jumping?”

The Doctor looks sharply at him, frowning, unable to tell if he's joking. Then, the Master draws back, fast, palms open the controls of the nearest cell, and throws the Doctor into it, resealing the cell.

“What are you—hey—!”

The Master breathes, staring over his shoulder as the gargoyle perches on the edge, head tilting as its eyes scan its surroundings, moving beyond the Master, then back. Another few moments, and it takes to the air, flying off, presumably to where it was stationed.

“Huh,” the Doctor says. “Think it'll come back once I'm out?”

“All this fuss, it's certainly more tempting to just leave you here, after all.”

“And admit you've wasted all this time?” the Doctor says, grinning.

“Yes, that is quite a tragic amount.” He taps alongside the control panel, a parallel to their meeting many floors above. “So, got any rope?”

“You really want to jump.”

The Master shrugs. “It'd get us where we need to go.”

“And probably trip every single floor's security system all at once.”

“You'll set them off regardless.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor sighs, agreeing, “probably.”

“The corridors aren't going to get us down and if any of those guards follow us, we're sitting ducks,” the Master explains. “So the only way out is straight down. It's only a few floors. Surely, you've done stupider things.”

The Doctor puffs out his chest in annoyance, but he shoves his hands into the depths of his jacket's pockets, rattling around. “Oh? Maybe...” He makes a face, twisting side to side as he continues to rifle through.

“Sure, it's fine,” the Master grouses, “I've got all day now that you're back behind bars.” He blows out a breath, staring up at the gratings above him, waiting.

“There's a lot of stuff in here, alright!” the Doctor says, “except for my sonic.”

[timothyslucy]

aw c'mon, why'd i have to get my period on a saturday???? 😩😩

[seiya-starsniper]

.

[nailsinmywall]

i am not dead by the way

i’m just having a hard time getting into the elf drawing mood in my new flatshare (i moved last month)

i did half-heartedly participate in hashtag feanorianweek, though, by posting wips and low effort doodles every day on my twitter 💀 they include sketches of curufin (+ celebrimbor) with dwarves, sleepy teen caranthir brushing his teeth, feanor/nerdanel doodles from 3 years ago, little tyelko antics and Maglor VS celegorm 

[harudnae]

Oops, queue has been empty for a while.

I haven't been around much lately, Things™️ happened and I'll need a short while to get this blog back on track. I'll be AFK for a few more days but expect more activity soon!

[bradleysbradshaws]

I cried again in a public restroom because it is hitting me that it's probably finally over for me, despite all I've tried to do, despite all I have left to give. And I cried because of what bogbeast told me yesterday - that they were done with Top Gun (thankfully, it's because they genuinely found another interest and not because of anything else). That I probably won't be getting what I hoped at least would be my parting Christmas gift this year. This fandom was kept slightly alive for me because of them and yellow_crayon for so long - the only two people who freely talked to me on a personal level this year and still wrote for Roosmav - and how disappointing of an ending to something they loved this was because of their friendships with me.

I'm getting up to write this at 4 a.m., so I'm not coherent, but I want to elaborate on this more later, and all that they have done for me, but I remember bogbeast being upset that it seemed less people were caring about their writing this year as time went on, and I couldn't explain to them that the reason less people from the Roosmav server were commenting on their fic was because it was becoming more obvious that they were friends with me. And all they had done was befriend me and help me with my writing this year (it's obvious now, but they beta'd my first four stories/all of my bottom!Bradley fics this year).

I remember being so relieved that Fopps commented on the second-to-last chapter of their Roosmav longfic, "Hold Me Under." Tbh, I was surprised Fopps had kept commenting on it after I became friends with them. Fopps was the first comment on that fic, so while I know she didn't end up commenting on the last chapter - and maybe she didn't even end up finishing that story - I know she really liked it, at least in the beginning.

I told yellow_crayon that in the likelihood it doesn't work out for me, and I have to leave the fandom for good, I want her to be able to formally disassociate from me so that she can finish her WIPs in peace and link them on the Roosmav server because she had always had a wonderful reputation with everyone there until her friendship with me. I don't think she linked her priestfic on there in the beginning of the year because she had gifted it to me, and I had even told her at the time - because I had felt so bad and was aware that her gifting it to me meant that she couldn't post it there - that she should un-gift it to me. But she kept it gifted to me, and it's this kind of gesture which showed me that I really did matter to her - that she would sacrifice that ability to post her work on there because of our friendship.

I've felt so terrified and guilty that my friends are friends with me for so long, because I have had to wonder: If they openly associate with me, will other people stop commenting on/supporting their works? I cried when Lake agreed to let me give her beta credit on my priest fic because I had fully expected to not be able to - that I had to hide my friendships with people forever because I didn't want to put them in a bad position with their other friends.

I have had to calculate everything I did this year - every work I have posted, every conversation I have had with a friend - because I wanted to show that I still wanted to give to this fandom, that I was willing to draw/write things that no one else in the Roosmav fandom, after all this time, has; and I didn't want to inadvertently get my friends in trouble for simply associating with me, but I still wanted to show that I was 1000% loyal to Roosmav by the fact that every person that I still talk to and remain friends with is from the Roosmav server. That I have everything to lose - Lake, Lily, YC, my friends - if I had any intent outside of just wanting to positively contribute to something I love.

[gothwineaunts]

Well hello there, readers!!

So, I have been lurking on our socials and in the webtoon comments of Nevermore's finale episode and have picked up some very subtle hints that y'all want to know when we're going to drop Season 2. Firstly I do want to let all the smarties who guessed we'd come back on Halloween based on our Ulalume quote know that they were onto something. When we originally left that hint for you, we were indeed planning to return in late October, but some unforeseen setbacks over the summer pushed our production schedule back. Still, I wanted to say congratulations for getting the hint right! We were impressed so many of you figured it out.

As for the updated launch of season two? While I don't have a specific date to share yet, I can tell you it'll be in January.

I know, I know. Trust me, I wish it was sooner too. I can't tell you how much Flynn and I miss updating weekly. Y'all make creating this series so exciting for us with your energy and excitement and creativity!! The talent I've seen in this community is off the charts. We feel unspeakably lucky to have readers like you along for the ride, and can't wait for you to see the episodes we've been working on.

If you're new to Flynn and I, it might not be common knowledge that we always do the absolute most all the time, compulsively, without stopping ever (save us, ahahhaa). And let me assure you that the opening episodes of season two? Are very most. A lot of most. Super long. Really, extra pretty. I wish I could post them now but I think webtoon might um. Be upset with me if I did that, so. Just trust me, ok? One thing I can share in th emeantime is some of the S2 character concepts. A few characters are getting minor glow ups. See if you can spot the differences!

Okay, well! We'll see you in January!! Or before, if you hang around our socials. I mean we're not disappearing. We'll be here, just. Plodding along on buffer in the background. If you're dying to spoil yourselves with wip streams you can hit up our patreon but I almost wouldn't recommend it on account of. You'll be so confused, at this point. Lmfao. Like. Wow, it would be a really weird time to join a wip stream with no context. This sounds like a shameless plug but I'm being serious when I say it's probably best you don't hop in at this particular moment?? But I mean. I'm not a cop. I'm just your weird goth wine aunt. 🍷

Cheers, Kit Trace

[gffa]

Hey, are you feeling salty about STAR WARS for no reason whatsoever, just totally happened randomly, and want some fic that reflects the Jedi Order of the movies and TCW? Ones that are novel-length time travel fix-its to really make yourself feel better? Then I have some ones that I've been reading and really enjoying! Because I think maybe we could all use a bunch of fic to get lost in over the weekend, just 'cause. STAR WARS TIME TRAVEL FIC RECS: ✦ there is no death ashkav, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & quinlan & ocs & cast, time travel, 134.9k wip Darth Vader is a cataclysmic event, and Cal, delirious with pain, scrambles to catch the hilt of his saber as he begins to drag it out their corpses – and that’s what he and Cere are, corpses, with only a last few seconds of misfiring neurons left in them, no matter how much BD-1 trills and punches stim after stim into his arm – they are tipping past that point of no return now, and Cal needs to do something right now before it’s too late for – for what?

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 142.3k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?

✦ Let Go by Micillyn, qui-gon & obi-wan & anakin & padme & cast, time travel, 101.5k Qui-Gon did not expect to die on Naboo. Nor did he realise that by insisting for Anakin to be trained as a Jedi, the boy would one day fall and become Darth Vader. Foresight, it seems, did not confer the gift of infallibility, yet if it took all those tragedies to destroy the Sith and restore balance to the Force and hope to the galaxy, then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all. Or, the story as happened in the movies is the fix-it, and this is the story of the disaster that happened before the time-travel happened.

✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cast, time travel, 47.4k wip Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be.

✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & mace & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU.

✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k     AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

[baronessvonglitter]

Guessing Game

stepdad!Javier Pena x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: Your stepfather is a DEA agent. When he finds drugs in your room you have to find a way to keep yourself out of trouble.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Step-cest (if that's an ick for you please do not read - you are responsible for the content you consume 🖤). Age gap (reader is early twenties, Javi is mid-to-late forties). Reader wears makeup and a dress and has hair long enough to get in her face. Cocaine use. Sexual proposition/exploitation. Dub con. (Reader is high during the act.) Oral (m receiving). Drug use during oral. Come swallowing. Fingering. *Spanish terms at the bottom. If I've missed anything please lmk!

Author's note: Big thanks to those of you who asked about this when it was just a baby wip -- now it's fully grown and I so appreciate the support! 💜

JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Please tell me you're coming out tonight."

You pause a moment before answering your friend Gabi, switching your phone to your other ear as you check your reflection in the mirror. You apply dark burgundy lipstick to your bottom lip: Guessing Game by MAC, and top it with a swipe of clear gloss.

"I'll be there. You can bet your tits on that," you tell her with a smirk before you end the call.

Sure, you're technically still in trouble for staying out all night the past weekend. That's the thing that sucks about  commuting to college instead of moving out-- having to stay under your mom's roof and adhere to her rules.

Not just her rules, oh no. Your new stepfather is a hard-ass too, and a DEA agent on top of that. Javier Peña's over half your age and a stickler for rules. He's down your throat any chance he gets when you talk back to your mom or do anything that he finds disrespectful. 

It's stressful having to walk such a thin line. You deserve to go out tonight and show off the slinky, short black dress you're secretly borrowing from your mom's closet. It's not like she wears stuff like this anymore. She won't miss it for one night.

Almost ready to go, you do a last minute checklist. The only thing missing from your purse is your baggie. 

Shit! Where is it? You check your usual hiding place but find nothing. Your stomach swirls with unease.

"Looking for this?"

You turn to the sound of the deep voice coming from your doorway. There stands Javier, big bad DEA stepdad, holding your baggie of coke between thumb and forefinger.

"That's not mine," you automatically deny. 

"Bullshit," he mutters, stepping into the room. "I found it in here earlier. You want to tell me what you're doing with cocaine, chiquita?"

"Like I said, it's not mine," you insist. Deny, deny, deny. 

"How stupid do you think I am, huh? Just be damn glad I found it and not your mother. She'd kick your ass out on the streets for having this." The offending white powder in its baggie looks tiny in his large hand.

"Did I interrupt your big plans tonight?" he asks smoothly, shutting your bedroom door behind him. "Were you gonna go out and party, do a few lines, let some pendejo fuck you up the ass?"

"Javi!" You instinctively cover yourself as his eyes linger over your figure in that short, tight dress.

He comes around the bed, towering over you as you sit on the edge. Still in his suit and tie and his hair still in its neat, swept-to-the-side style, you imagine he must have just gotten off work. His dark eyes challenge you to do one more thing to piss him off. Despite the severe disdain you hold for one another, in the back of your mind you've always wanted to fuck him. Him being alone with you in your room, that dangerous, pissed-off look in his eyes only serves to make you wet. 

"You should know better," he says. "I can't have a fucking druggie for a stepdaughter."

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "But you shouldn't be going through my shit anyway."

"That's not a fucking apology, cariño," he gripes. "When you say 'sorry, but' that means you're not truly fucking sorry."

"You're giving me a fucking semantics lesson now?"

"Don't fucking talk back to me," he growls. "I'm not your mom, I'll beat your ass."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Keep it down, she's asleep in the next room."

It's late and by now your mom's taken her sleeping pill. You'd counted on her staying practically unconscious as you snuck out. Until Javi came along. You don't know what his plot is but the fact that he's here in your room with the door closed and it's half past midnight gives you a feeling that he wants something he shouldn't be asking for.

"Just.. give it back to me. I'll flush it, I promise."

A dark chuckle leaves his throat and sends a chill up your spine. He holds the baggie out and flicks it with his finger. "Who's your plug, baby? Give me that much. Possession with intent to distribute is a worse crime than just possession. You could get off with just a slap on the wrist if you just give me a name."

"I'm not telling you shit.."

"That stubborn, eh, princesita?" He smirks at even you have to admit he's a little handsome when he looks at you like that. But you still fucking hate him. You make a low sound in your throat, akin to a growl.

“You got something in your throat, chica?”

“No.. but I’d like to..”

His gaze darkens as he looks down at you, that barely-there dress leaving so little to the imagination. He recognizes it from his wife's closet, the very same dress she wore when they went on their first date. And now it fits you like a second skin. "Careful, chica. You might be an adult under the law, but you have no idea what the real fucking world is like."

"What are you gonna do, turn me in?" you challenge him.

"Maybe we can come to a compromise," he says, his gaze on your wet, glossy, darkened lips. "I'll keep quiet about the drugs if you do something for me."

"Like what?" You lean back on the bed, acting bored with the conversation though you're secretly glad he's about to let you off the hook.

"You're a smart girl. Use your imagination."

You separate your gaze from his, traveling down to the prominent bulge in his trousers.

"You're disgusting, you know that? Exploiting your own stepdaughter like that.."

He shrugs. "I have no problem bringing you in for this. It's a shame, though. You're a bright kid, you have your whole future ahead of you. You gonna let a little cocaina put an end to all that?"

"Fuck you," you mutter, sitting up. What does it matter anyway? It's just a dick. Not like you haven't sucked a few in your time. "Fine. I fucking blow you and you don't tell anyone about the coke, okay?"

A little smile curls his lips upward. "Deal, princesita."

He puts the baggie on the nightstand where you can't reach it and turns to you, hands on his hips. You realize he's waiting for you to start. 

Smart guy, having you make the first move so it's not on him later. "Nobody knows about this, either," you demand, your fingers hovering just over his belt buckle.

His breath hitches before answering, excitement hidden in his voice. "Just between us."

You feel your heartbeat in your throat as you undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor. He's wearing white briefs, though you know him to typically go commando when he's not working.

"That's it, bebita linda," he coos as you free him from his underwear. His thick erection curves upward, slapping his belly as it swells and rises. Your mouth waters just feasting your eyes upon it.

"Ain't got all night," he grumbles.

"So fucking impatient," you grumble back, wrapping your hand around his hefty cock. It's bigger than any you've ever had, already weeping from the tip. Without hesitation you lick up the salty precum, delighting in the way his breath catches in his throat.

"It's not gonna suck itself," he grunts, putting his hand on the back of your head and pushing you towards him. "C'mon, baby, wanna see that pretty lipstick ruined and slopped all over my cock. The deal doesn't count if you're just gonna give it kitten licks."

Grabbing the base in one hand you slide the tip between your lips. Already it feels like too much, but you're not going to let him think he's got the best of you. 

"Open wide, baby, I know you can suck a cock better than that."

Forcing back an exasperated sigh you practically unhinge your jaw to get your whole mouth around him, his fat cockhead hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. Javi laughs as you pull away.

"You a fucking amateur, mia linda?" he chuckles. "Or am I just too big for that bratty mouth?"

"Fuck you."

He grabs you by the chin and forces you to look up at him. Your eyes are big, wide, a hint of fear there mixed with desire. "Be good for me. Or do you need something more to keep you sweet?"

He reaches for the baggie and scoops out a small amount, making a nice line on the top of his cock. 

"C'mon, do a line for me, sugar." He brings your head down and immediately you snort the white powder off his dick.

"There you go.. putting those vices to good use for once. Now maybe you'll suck my cock like the proper little slut you are."

You're still sniffling up the remnants of the coke when he shoves himself inside your mouth again, the bitter taste of the drug mixing with the salty taste of his flesh. 

"Relax your throat," he commands. "I can't believe I have to tell you how to suck a cock," he tsk-tsks.

Your eyes are brimming over with tears as you take him deep inside your throat. He stays there, guiding your movements with his hands on the back of your head. You start to breathe through your nose as your airway gets stuffed full of Javi's throbbing dick.

"Just look at that pretty mouth, pretty purple lips spread open wide around my cock," he whispers. "That's right, baby, get my cock all messy with your lipstick."

He lets you pull away from him to catch your breath before pushing back in, thrusting into your mouth. Whether you like it or not, saliva fills your mouth, making the slide in easier. If he knew your pussy was getting just as wet right now he'd take full advantage.

By now the coke is taking effect, making your heart flutter, and your pleasure receptors are buzzing off the charts. If you were only a reluctant participant before, you're voracious now. You put all your effort into blowing Javier, eager for his moans and sharp curses, even when he pulls out and taps your cheek with his dick you can't help but giggle, seeking him out with your tongue so you can drag it along his length.

Soon you're getting into a rhythm, following his lead as he thrusts into your mouth, pulling you away, only to push in again, stuffing you full and deep as he grabs your hair. Your mascara runs down your face, black streaks down your cheeks, lipstick smeared, Javi's dick now a strange purple.

He likes watching his whole member disappearing inside you, excited by the way you're learning to take him. He stops playing nice and stuffs himself down your throat, shoving himself deep and thrusting shallowly while your arms flail in a vain attempt to push away from him.

"Nuh-uh.. we agreed. I can just take you in right now, all wrecked and ruined. I can already see the mugshot. Bet your mama would be so proud," he says sarcastically.

"Fuck you," you manage to say, lips swollen, saliva running down your chin and neck.

"Hey, that's not very ladylike. Then again, you're not much of a lady, are you? Now suck."

He thrusts inside you again, even though you gag on him, tasting the bitterness of your own bile creeping up your gullet.

"If you puke on me I'll just keep going. You think I'm worried about a little vomit?"

You force down the remnants of your dinner from earlier, simultaneously bringing him deeper into your mouth.

"Lift up that dress for me, want you to play with your pussy while you're sucking me off," he says, stuffing your mouth full with more of him.

You do as he says, picking up the hem of the dress over your hips and sticking your hand under your black lace thong. You're drenched and Javier can see it, smell your arousal as it fragrances the air between you. He's never smelled a sweeter pussy. 

"That's right, circle that pretty little clit for me, mamacita," he grunts, exiting your mouth to pull back and watch you for a little, a long thick string of saliva connecting between your lips and his dick. You look totally wrecked and he's not even done yet.

You work on yourself, pressing your clit, your little gasps fueling Javier's need. "There you go, drive yourself crazy for me," he says.

You dip your fingers inside your warm cunt, closing your eyes as you seek out the relief from the heat building between your thighs. "Nu-uh, baby, eyes on me," he purrs slipping back in, thrusting deep and slow, watching you, feeling how good it is when you moan around his dick.

"Perfect, fucking perfect," he moans when you deep throat him again, your tongue peeking out to lick his balls. "Fuck," he says, tightening the grip he has on your hair. "Freaky mamacita, aren't you? Done this before, haven't you? To a lot of guys, I bet."

You whimper around his dick, pulling away to get some air. You finger yourself into a frenzy and start to come. "Not yet," Javier growls, pulling you back onto his slobber-coated cock. "You gotta earn it if you wanna come," he tells you.

You whine about it but the energetic buzz the coke has given you is still at work, putting extra effort into sucking off your stepdad, a renewed energy and vigor to your mouth sucking his cock. 

"Damn, cariño.. you really want your bad little habit kept secret, huh?" Javier pants, head thrown back as you sloppily suck him off. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come.. gonna spray that sarcastic little bitchy mouth with my cum.. you ready?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, slamming into your mouth with urgency, not a care for your comfort until he bursts in your mouth and you have no choice but to taste the hot saltiness of his release.

He pulls out slowly, and when you try to spit out his release he shoves it back in with his fingers, effectively gagging you in the process. "Swallow," he commands, and you do so obediently just as his other hand finds its way to your core. 

He curls his fingers into the waistband, pulling the thong up, rubbing the material against your wanting and willing core, rubbing hard against your clit. It's pleasure bordering on pain.

"Fucking hell, look how soaked you are," he coos. He watches the way your stringy slick clings to the lace of your thong. "You got all wet sucking me off, didn't you? Dirty girl. Muy sucia." He rubs the pad of his thumb over your exposed clit and smirks when you start panting like a dog in heat, thighs open to him, head thrown back, your hair sticking to the mess of saliva and lip gloss on your mouth and chin.

"There it is.. just what you wanted, huh? What you think about every time you look at me. You dream about my cock in your mouth and my fingers in your cunt, just like this.." He delves two thick digits into your wetness while stroking your clit and it's embarrassing how quickly you come on his fingers, your core quivering around him, expelling more fluid, coating his hand.

"That's it," he says gently, staying inside you until the little aftershocks are complete and your body is utterly spent. Your mouth tastes like his cum and the lingering bitterness of the cocaine is at the back of your throat. Despite your orgasm being over your heart is still jackhammering away. The high of both the drug and the orgasm combine to leave you teetering on the edge of sanity.

"Drugged out and fucked out," Javier mutters, watching you as he removes his fingers. He lets out a small noise of approval, his thumb gently tracing along your lip and the edge of your tongue for a moment before slowly sliding it inside your mouth. “Taste yourself, princesa.”

You make a little sound of pleasure, swirling your tongue along his thumb, your gaze on him.

His free hand moves to tangle in your hair to keep your head still as he slowly pulls his thumb out of your mouth, a thin string of saliva connecting his finger to your tongue as he looks down at you with half lidded eyes. "God, you look so good down there, cariño." 

Then he pushes you back on the bed. "Such a fucking mess," he mutters, tucking his cock back in his briefs and doing up his pants again. "Go clean yourself up. And no more fucking coke, got it?" he growls as he leaves, taking the baggie with him.

"We're square now, bebita," he says, giving one last look to your prone form, your skin flushed and sweaty, legs splayed out like a true coke whore. "But if I ever catch you doing something like this again, I'll do more than fuck that sweet little mouth of yours."

*chiquita ~ little girl | pendejo ~ idiot | carino ~ dear | princesita ~ little princess | chica ~ girl | cocaina ~ cocaine | bebita linda ~ pretty baby | mamacita ~ gorgeous/hottie | muy sucia ~ very dirty

dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics 👑

taglist: @myownwholewildworld @milla-frenchy @604to647

@vichons @itwasntimethatdidit40 @probablyreadinsmut

@drewharrisonwriter @joelmillerisapunk @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@everybodylovedcontractors @almostfoxglove @cxrsed-angel

@ohlookitspaperpixel @victorian-cherub @sawymredfox

@friendly-neighborhood-boricua @notgoingtomalta @darling-stevie

@letsgobarbs @devineconjuring

[rootedinrevisions]

A Countdown to Us

SUMMARY: As the clock ticks toward midnight on New Year's Eve, the air is charged with more than just the promise of a new year. With every stolen glance and every lingering touch between you and Bradley, you inch closer to a moment that could change everything in your friendship. In the midst of the fireworks and celebration, will you take a leap and let the sparks between you ignite?

A/N: I've had this WIP in my drafts for a while (kind of). It started out as friends to lovers, and then I decided to try to put the New Year's Eve twist on it, and I think it turned out well. This will be the last of my holiday fics and after this I'm going to go back to working on requests (still not accepting new requests at this time) and my other WIPs.

WARNINGS: Lots of Teasing, Biting, Hair Pulling, Slight Praising Kink, Some Body Insecurity from Reader, Oral (Male Receiving), Fingering, Vaginal Sex (PinV),

WORD COUNT: 10.8k (I'm sorry, I swear I don't mean to keep writing these really long fics.)

TAGS: In comments.

Bradley knocked on your front door, the sound echoing through your small apartment. He glanced at his watch, shaking his head as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Hold on!” your voice called from inside.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. When the door finally opened, he was greeted by the sight of you, barefoot, with one earring in and the other clutched in your hand.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bradley said, his eyebrows lifting as his gaze swept over you. “We’re already late, and you’re still not ready?”

You rolled your eyes and turned, leaving the door open as an invitation for him to come in. “Calm down, Bradshaw. We’ll make it in time for the midnight toast,” you shot back, your tone as breezy as ever.

He followed you inside, shutting the door behind him. “You said you’d be ready by nine. It’s nine-thirty.”

“And yet you’re still here, waiting for me like the loyal best friend you are,” you teased, flashing him a quick grin over your shoulder as you made your way back to your bedroom.

Bradley groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair as he trailed after you. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for you to catch.

“What was that?” you called from your room.

“Nothing.”

You laughed, stepping out into the hallway with a playful look in your eye. “That’s what I thought.”

Bradley leaned against the wall, watching as you carefully secured the second earring in place. His eyes softened for just a moment, taking in the sight of you. Even half-ready, with your hair still pinned up and no shoes in sight, you had a way of commanding his attention.

“What?” you asked, noticing the way he was looking at you.

“Nothing,” he said again, quickly masking the moment with a smirk. “I’m just trying to figure out how it takes someone this long to get dressed.”

“Perfection takes time, Bradshaw.”

“Perfection?” He scoffed. “You still have to put on your shoes. And your coat. And—”

“Zip me up,” you interrupted, holding the front of your dress to your chest as you turned your back to him.

Bradley froze for a split second, but you didn’t notice. Or maybe you did, and you were pretending not to. Either way, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder blade as he grabbed the zipper.

The dress hugged your curves perfectly, and as he zipped it up, the soft lace of your underwear caught his eye. It was only a glimpse, but it was enough to send his mind spiraling into places he shouldn’t let it go—not with you.

“You okay back there?” you teased, glancing over your shoulder.

Bradley cleared his throat, tugging the zipper the rest of the way up with a little more force than necessary. “Yeah, just wondering how you manage to make me late every single time we go out.”

“Oh, please,” you said, spinning around to face him. “You love it.”

“Love it? No,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped back. “Tolerate it? Maybe.”

You grinned, patting his chest lightly as you brushed past him. Bradley followed you to the living room, where you grabbed your heels and slipped them on. He tried not to stare as you bent over to adjust the strap, but he failed miserably.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

You grabbed your coat and shot him a dazzling smile. “Ready.”

As the two of you headed out the door, Bradley couldn’t help but think about the night ahead—and how he was going to survive it without completely losing his mind.

* * * * *

The Hard Deck was already buzzing when you and Bradley walked through the door. Fairy lights strung around the rafters twinkled like stars, and the place was packed with people laughing, drinking, and gearing up for the New Year. Music pulsed through the speakers, and you could feel the energy in the air—a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“Looks like Penny went all out,” you said, glancing around.

“She always does,” Bradley replied, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a familiar group in the corner.

The Dagger Squad was easy to spot, their loud laughter cutting through the din of the bar. Hangman was holding court, as usual, while Phoenix rolled her eyes at something he’d just said. Bob looked like he was doing his best to stay out of whatever argument was brewing, nursing his cup of peanuts with a small smile.

As you made your way over, the group’s attention shifted to the two of you.

“Bradshaw finally made it!” Hangman drawled, leaning back in his chair with a cocky grin. “Thought you were gonna miss the countdown.”

“We would’ve been here earlier if someone didn’t take forever to get ready,” Bradley replied, shooting you a pointed look.

You gasped, feigning offense as you placed a hand over your chest. “Excuse me, I looked amazing when I walked out that door. You’re welcome.”

Hangman chuckled. “I’ll give her that, Bradshaw. She does look amazing.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened slightly, but he just shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get a drink.”

The two of you headed toward the bar, weaving through the crowd. Once there, you caught the bartender’s attention and ordered your usual. Turning to Bradley, you raised an eyebrow. “What about you? What’s your poison tonight?”

Bradley smirked, leaning one elbow on the bar as he looked down at you. “Nice try, but you’re not buying my drinks.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, brushing your hand against his arm playfully. “Consider it payback for making you wait earlier.”

Before he could respond, someone jostled their way up to the bar, bumping into you and sending you stumbling slightly into Bradley’s chest. Your hands instinctively went to his shoulders for balance, and your body pressed against his, the neckline of your dress dipping just enough to give him an up-close view of your cleavage.

“Sorry!” the stranger said, barely glancing your way as they waved down the bartender.

“No worries,” you replied, pulling back slightly—but not before noticing the way Bradley’s jaw had gone tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long, flicking down to the neckline of your dress before quickly snapping back up to meet your gaze.

“Everything okay, Bradshaw?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Fine,” he said shortly, though his voice was a little rougher than usual. He cleared his throat and glanced away, focusing on the bartender as he ordered his drink.

You couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that tugged at your lips. You knew you were getting to him, and the idea sent a thrill through you. Tonight was going to be fun.

You made your way back to the group with Bradley, your drink in hand and a playful smirk already forming on your lips. The moment Hangman saw you, his grin widened.

“Well, if it isn’t Bradshaw’s better half,” he drawled, leaning casually against the pool table. “Looking like you’re ready to steal the show tonight, sweetheart.”

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge on the arm. “Oh, stop it, Seresin. You’ll make me blush.”

Bradley, standing just behind you, rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the exchange. You didn’t miss it, of course, and it only fueled your determination.

“I’m just calling it like I see it,” Hangman continued, his signature cocky grin firmly in place. “Bradshaw, you’re gonna have to keep an eye on her tonight. Someone might just snatch her away.”

Bradley crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps straining slightly against the fabric of his shirt. “I think she can handle herself,” he said, his tone neutral but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you teased, turning your head to glance at Bradley over your shoulder. “You might need to keep a closer eye on me, Roo.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, his expression softened into something unreadable—a mixture of surprise and something deeper. He gave a small shake of his head, like he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to use that nickname here, in front of everyone.

“Roo?” Hangman’s voice cut in, dripping with mockery as he leaned casually against his pool cue. His grin was wide and wicked. “Oh, I like that. What do you think, Roo?”

Bradley shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “Shut it, Bagman.”

Hangman chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension radiating off Bradley. “Tell you what,” he said, his attention turning back to you as he gestured toward the pool table. “Why don’t you break? Show us if you’ve got the skills to back up all that sass.”

You grinned, realizing this was your chance. “Gladly.”

As you stepped forward, you made sure to brush past Bradley, your chest grazing against his arm. You felt the solid heat of him through the thin fabric of your dress, and you bit back a triumphant smile when you noticed his sharp intake of breath.

“Excuse me,” you said softly, looking up at him with a feigned innocence that didn’t fool him for a second.

Bradley didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened, and his gaze followed you as you moved to the pool table.

You bent over to line up the break, feeling the hem of your dress creeping up your thighs as you adjusted your stance. You could practically feel Bradley’s eyes on you, and when you glanced back at him, he was staring, his expression a mixture of frustration and something darker.

“Sorry,” you said sweetly, tugging the hem of your dress down before turning your attention back to the game. You broke the rack with a satisfying crack, the balls scattering across the table. Standing up, you smoothed your dress and turned to find Bradley still watching you, his drink forgotten in his hand.

His expression was hard to read—annoyance, maybe, but there was something else there too. Something that made your stomach flip and your confidence soar.

Hangman gave a low whistle. “Not bad. Maybe we should let you and Bradshaw go head-to-head. What do you say, Bradshaw? Think you can handle her?”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to Hangman, then back to you. “Oh, I can handle her,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, and as you leaned casually against the pool table, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe your little plan was working after all.

Your next shot had you leaning over the table across from Bradley, the angle perfectly positioned to give him an unobstructed view of your cleavage. The neckline of your dress dipped dangerously low, and as you shifted slightly to line up the cue, he caught the unmistakable realization—you weren’t wearing a bra. His breath hitched, and the image of you in nothing but that lace he’d glimpsed earlier burned itself into his mind.

Bradley’s grip on his pool cue tightened as his body betrayed him. The denim of his jeans suddenly felt unforgiving, and he shifted his stance in an effort to find some relief.

Focus, Bradshaw. This is her. You can’t go there. You won’t go there.

But then there was Hangman. Of course, there was Hangman. Jake’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing—not the slight adjustment Bradley made, not the tension in his jaw, and definitely not the way your lips curved into a subtle smile as you straightened up after your shot.

“Gotta hand it to her,” Jake muttered under his breath as he leaned closer to Bradley, his voice low enough that only he could hear. “She’s got you on a leash tonight, Roo.” Bradley’s glare shot to Jake like a warning missile, but Jake, ever the instigator, just grinned wider. “What’s the matter, Bradshaw? Gonna let her get away with that?”

“Shut it, Bagman,” Bradley bit out, his voice tight, but the heat rising in his chest had little to do with Jake’s teasing and everything to do with the mental image of you.

Jake leaned closer, his tone dropping just enough to needle deeper. “You should make a move before someone else does.” He nodded toward the bar where a few other Navy men had started to take notice of you. One, in particular, seemed a little too interested, his gaze lingering on you as you lined up your next shot.

The thought had Bradley’s blood boiling. The Daggers all knew you were off-limits, even if there was no official claim—Bradley’s quiet, unwavering presence around you made that abundantly clear.

But the other men in the bar didn’t have that same understanding. They didn’t know that you were his, even if neither of you had ever said it out loud.

He glanced back at you, your focus on the table as you leaned over again, the hem of your dress riding up just slightly, showing a tempting glimpse of your thighs. You were playing with fire tonight, and Bradley was caught somewhere between wanting to stop you and wanting to let himself get burned.

Jake chuckled again, leaning closer as you shifted slightly, your hips swaying just enough to draw attention. He turned his head toward Bradley, his smirk sharp as a blade. “She’s practically begging for it,” Jake said, his tone low and knowing.

Bradley’s jaw ticked, his grip on the pool cue tightening to the point of splintering.

“Bagman,” he warned, his voice like gravel, but Jake just grinned and backed away, clearly enjoying the show.

After your next turn, you made your way over to Bradley, holding up your now-empty glass with a teasing grin.

“Looks like I’m out,” you said, tipping the glass slightly before glancing at the drink in his hand. “Mind if I have some of yours?”

Bradley barely had time to respond before you leaned in, wrapping your lips around his straw, your eyes locked on his as you took a slow sip. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on him—or anyone else. His fingers tightened around the glass, his knuckles whitening, as he watched you pull back with a soft hum of approval.

“Not bad, Roo,” you murmured, your voice low, your tone deliberate. Filled with just enough liquid courage, you leaned in closer, the faint scent of your perfume intoxicating him. “You seem a little tense tonight. Maybe you should let loose. It is New Year’s Eve, after all.”

Bradley’s jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, your words sending a ripple of heat through him. Before he could respond, Jake, who had been lingering nearby, couldn’t resist jumping into the moment.

“Gotta say, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his signature smirk firmly in place. “She’s got a point. You do look a little… wound up tonight.”

Bradley turned his head sharply toward Jake, his gaze already simmering with annoyance. But Jake wasn’t done.

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, his cocky grin widening. “Tell you what, Roo. If you’re ready to call it a night, I’ll make sure she gets her midnight kiss. And I’ll even get her home safe and sound for you.”

The comment was like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. Bradley’s glare could have leveled a lesser man, but Jake didn’t even flinch. If anything, he seemed to thrive on the reaction, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Bagman,” Bradley said, his voice dangerously low, the single word carrying a warning that even Jake couldn’t completely ignore.

But Jake, being Jake, wasn’t about to back down. “What?” he said, feigning innocence as he straightened up. “Just being a gentleman. Someone’s gotta make sure she gets what she wants tonight, and if you’re not gonna step up…”

“Jake.” This time, the word was more growl than name, and Jake raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Relax, Bradshaw,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” His tone softened slightly, just enough that only Bradley could hear. “You’ve been watching her all night like she’s the last drink on Earth. Either you go for that first sip, or someone else will.”

Bradley’s grip on his glass tightened as Jake’s words settled over him. He glanced back at you, now chatting with Phoenix across the table, your laughter cutting through the noise of the bar. The sight of you—carefree, radiant, and completely unaware of the effect you had on him—was almost too much to bear.

Jake clapped him on the shoulder as if he’d just passed on sage advice, the smug look still firmly in place. “Tick tock, Bradshaw,” he said before sauntering off, leaving Bradley alone with his thoughts—and the growing need to finally make his move.

As the night wore on and the clock inched closer to midnight, you found your excitement for the new year tempered by a growing sense of disappointment. You had spent the evening trying to send Bradley every signal short of spelling it out for him, but he still hadn’t made a move.

You thought you’d been obvious enough. The lingering glances, the teasing touches, the way you’d leaned into him at every opportunity—surely, he’d noticed. Unless... he had noticed and simply wasn’t interested.

The thought twisted uncomfortably in your chest, leaving a bitter taste behind. You let your gaze wander to where Bradley stood across the room, laughing at something Coyote had said. His smile lit up his face, and for a moment, you forgot all about your doubts.

But then reality came crashing back in. If he wanted you, wouldn’t he have done something by now? Anything? You let out a quiet sigh, suddenly feeling foolish for playing this little game in the first place. Maybe you’d read too much into the way his eyes lingered on you earlier, or maybe you were just another friend to him.

“Excuse me,” you said softly to Phoenix, forcing a polite smile as you stepped away from the conversation.

Phoenix’s brow furrowed as she watched you leave, and then her sharp gaze turned on Bradley. She didn’t bother to hide the glare she shot his way, the kind that could stop a grown man in his tracks.

Bradley caught her expression from across the room and froze, confused. He looked around as if trying to figure out what he’d done to deserve the silent scolding. Then, realizing she was glaring at him, he held up his hands in surrender, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. “What?” he mouthed, his voice barely audible over the noise.

Phoenix just rolled her eyes and shook her head, muttering something under her breath that Bradley couldn’t hear. But the message was clear enough: You’re an idiot, Bradshaw.

Meanwhile, you slipped through the crowd toward the bathroom, weaving between groups of sailors and couples who were already paired off for the midnight kiss. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment that had settled in your chest. It wasn’t like you had any right to expect something from Bradley—he’d never promised you anything, after all.

But still... you couldn’t help but hope.

“Damn it, Bradshaw, what the hell are you waiting for?” Jake's voice came from beside him, sharp with that familiar edge of cockiness that always seemed to get under Bradley’s skin.

He barely had time to register the words before another voice broke through the noise. A pilot—someone Bradley didn’t recognize, but who had clearly been eyeing you for most of the night—made his way over to the Dagger Squad. He was tall, his uniform crisp and pressed, his eyes glinting with that familiar military arrogance.

He looked at Bradley first, then turned to Jake, as if seeking approval. It rubbed Bradley wrong that this guy was asking Jake for permission about you. As if Jake knew anything about you.

“Hey, your little friend” the guy began, voice low but loud enough for Bradley and Jake to hear, “is she single, or is she here with someone tonight?”

Bradley’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly the type of guy this was—another one of those cocky assholes who thought every woman in a bar was fair game. And though Bradley didn't have any kind of claim on you outside of being your best friend, the thought of this guy making a move on you had his blood starting to boil.

You, with your teasing smile, your soft laugh, the way you leaned in when you spoke. You weren’t some conquest for a guy to pick off at a bar. You weren’t anyone’s plaything, and the idea of this particular pilot thinking he could just waltz in and take what he wanted had Bradley seeing red.

Hell, if it had to be someone else tonight, he’d almost rather it be Jake. At least Jake—underneath all that infuriating cockiness—had some redeeming qualities. For one, he’d treat you with more respect than you’d probably give him credit for. And while it killed Bradley to admit it, he trusted Jake to care for you, in his own strange way.

But this guy? He looked like the type who thought a quick smirk and some half-baked compliments were enough to seal the deal. The type who’d be selfish in bed, thinking more about what he could get than what he could give. And you deserved better—so much better. Bradley could feel his fists clenching at his sides. The last thing he wanted was to see this asshole anywhere near you, let alone trying to charm his way into your night, your bed, your life.

You’re not going to be mine tonight, Bradley thought. But that didn’t mean you were anyone else’s either.

“Yeah, she’s single,” Bradley bit out, his voice tight, unwilling to look the guy in the eye as he made his response.

The pilot gave him a slight, almost dismissive nod, and with a grin that said he knew he had a shot, he turned to walk away, shooting Bradley one last look. “Well, I’ll go make sure she has a good time. Maybe a New Year’s kiss, if she’s lucky.”

Bradley’s blood boiled. The thought of that cocky bastard putting his hands on you had him feeling... nauseous. Protective. Territorial. It made his entire body tense with something darker than jealousy. He wanted to go after him, pull the guy away from you, and tell him to back the hell off. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not like this.

Jake, always the instigator, seemed to sense the shift in Bradley’s mood. He leaned in, his voice low but with that unmistakable smirk he always wore when he knew he was about to push someone’s buttons.

“You’ve got until the time she gets back to make up your mind, Bradshaw,” Jake said, his voice quiet enough for only Bradley to hear, but the challenge was unmistakable. “Because if you don’t, you’re gonna have to watch Badger take her home tonight.”

Bradley felt like his heart had stopped. Badger. That was the pilot’s call sign. A cocky asshole with a reputation for going after whatever—or whoever—he wanted.

His eyes flicked to the bathroom, where you had disappeared moments before. The thought of you with anyone else, especially Badger, was enough to light a fire inside him that he couldn’t control.

No. You weren’t going home with Badger. You were going home with him.

Bradley’s hands tightened into fists. He felt like he was running out of time, and with each passing second, the overwhelming sense that if he didn’t act, he was going to lose you to someone else, ate at him from the inside out.

“Go make your move, Bradshaw,” Jake muttered, clearly loving every second of it.

Bradley didn’t need any more prompting. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the bathroom, where he would make sure that no one, especially not some arrogant pilot, would ever think they had a chance with you.

You had just finished washing your hands in the bathroom when the familiar hum of the bar’s noise drifted into your ears, signaling the impending chaos of the New Year’s Eve countdown. As you walked out, still feeling the buzz from the drinks you’d had, you spotted him.

Bradley was standing near the hallway, leaning casually against the wall just beyond the restroom door, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd. His gaze locked with yours the moment you stepped into the hallway, and for a brief second, something passed between you—an unspoken understanding.

You blinked, confused by the sight of him waiting there. His posture was relaxed, but the tension in his jaw told another story. "Bradley?" you asked, the question clear in your tone.

Without answering verbally, Bradley took your hand in his, his grip firm but not too tight. He didn’t say anything as he led you back towards the bar, the movement smooth, like he’d planned it all along.

As you passed by Badger, who was leaning on the bar with a few other pilots, you felt Bradley’s arm slip around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. The weight of his arm was a strange comfort, like it had always been meant to be there.

You looked up at him, your brow furrowed in confusion, but the way he kept his eyes forward, focused, made you hesitate in questioning him further. Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt natural, like you had been doing it for years, and the warmth radiating from him was something you had been craving all night.

It was the first time he’d really touched you all night—actually touched you. And it was enough to make your stomach flip. You had been dropping hints, but it had seemed like Bradley was ignoring them or maybe just didn’t see them at all. But this? This felt like a shift.

His hand remained on your shoulder, his thumb lightly grazing the skin beneath the fabric of your dress, sending small sparks of heat through you. The sensation was electric, and you tried to focus on the moment, on the conversation happening around you, but all you could feel was the proximity between you and him.

You could feel his breath on the top of your head, his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, and for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to just breathe, to let the closeness sink in without overthinking it.

The others at the bar didn't seem to notice the subtle change between you two, too absorbed in their own chatter. But Bradley’s arm remained firmly around your shoulders, and for some reason, it felt like the kind of touch that meant more than just friendship. It was an anchor, a reassurance, and in that moment, it made everything feel a little bit clearer.

As the two of you approached the corner of the bar where the Dagger Squad was gathered, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you and Bradley. And whether it was the warmth of his touch or the way he had looked at you when you first came out of the bathroom, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t mind. You were no longer playing a game. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to finally make the next move.

As the crowd around you began to count down, the energy in the bar reached a fever pitch. The room pulsed with excitement, people laughing, clinking glasses, and shouting over one another in anticipation. You could feel Bradley’s grip on your shoulders tighten as he turned to face you, the noise of the room fading into a distant hum. The look in his eyes was intense—unwavering, but something new simmered beneath the surface.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, a hint of uncertainty that was completely uncharacteristic for him.

You felt your heart race, the breath hitching in your throat as you looked at him. His hands were resting lightly on your shoulders, but you could feel the tension in them. He was holding back, but you weren’t going to make him wait anymore.

A slow smile spread across your face as you stepped closer, closing the distance between you two. “Yeah,” you whispered, the word barely escaping you, but it felt like the only thing that needed to be said.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling the solid, familiar weight of him under your fingertips. His hands slid to your waist, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to pull you into him, but there was still something restrained in his movements. His lips parted slightly, as though he were waiting for something, for the perfect moment.

The countdown continued in the background, but all you could focus on was the man in front of you—the way his body was so close, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the electric charge between you two that had been building for what felt like ages.

You smiled again, the excitement of the crowd around you fading. This was it. The moment where everything changed.

When the final "One!" rang out, echoing through the bar, the bell above the bar ringing sharply in time with the cheer, Bradley wasted no more time. 

His lips crashed to yours in a kiss that was everything you'd imagined but so much more—passionate, but still restrained. His hands were firm on your waist, like he was holding onto something that threatened to break loose.

For a moment, everything stopped. There was no noise, no countdown, no rowdy crowd—just the heat of his kiss, the soft press of his lips against yours, the soft, subtle pressure of his body against yours.

And then, slowly, it changed.

Bradley slid one hand from your waist to the small of your back, his grip tightening as he pulled you against him. His other hand slid up your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, tugging you closer as he deepened the kiss. The world around you blurred. His mouth moved over yours with a fervor that made your knees weak.

You felt everything in that moment—everything you had been holding back, every hint you’d dropped, every flirtatious moment now coming to fruition. His body was pressed into yours, his chest firm against your breasts, the hardness of him unmistakable. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and it made your pulse race.

Somewhere nearby, you heard whistles and catcalls, but they barely registered in your mind. The only thing that mattered was him, and the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands held you so tight as though he couldn’t get enough. It was messy, and deep, and long—definitely longer than a midnight kiss should be. But you didn’t care. Neither did he.

Bradley’s hands slid lower, gripping your hips as his lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, and you melted into him. The sound of the bar faded into background noise, as if you were the only two people in the room. His touch was a promise, a shift from the playful banter to something far more intense.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily, his eyes darkened with desire. "Happy New Year," he murmured against your lips, and the words sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t respond. There was no need.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked, the question carrying an undertone of something more—something you were both hesitant to put into words.

You smiled, a soft but knowing smile, and nodded without hesitation. You weren’t about to let this moment slip away. Not now, not after everything that had happened tonight.

Bradley’s hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours as if he couldn’t let go. With a small tug, he gently guided you away from the crowded bar. You exchanged quiet goodbyes with the rest of the group, the lingering tension between you and Bradley palpable to anyone who might have been watching. You didn’t care.

When you reached the door, Bradley’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, reassuring gesture. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, the noise of the bar fading behind you, and it was as if you were in your own world now, just the two of you.

Bradley didn’t say anything else as he led you down the street, the sounds of the city muffled around you. His hand was still holding yours, but you could feel the tension there, like a spring wound too tight. You both knew what was coming next. And you both knew you couldn’t go back. Not after tonight.

* * * * *

The car came to a slow stop in front of your place, the engine cutting out, but the tension between you and Bradley seemed to hum louder than anything else in the night. He didn’t say a word as he turned off the ignition, but there was a shift in the air—a palpable shift that made every part of you tense in anticipation.

As you stepped out of the car, Bradley was already there, waiting for you. His hand slid to your waist, a familiar touch that sent a spark of electricity through you. You walked side by side, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet street. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but when you reached your front door, you could feel Bradley’s presence behind you, close and solid, almost like a magnet.

You fumbled with your keys for a second, your fingers shaking as you tried to unlock the door. But Bradley’s hands were already on you—his fingers pressing lightly into your hips, pulling you against him. His warmth radiated into your back, and when you felt the brush of his breath against your neck, your body responded, every inch of you on edge.

His lips found your neck, and you gasped, the sound escaping before you could stop it. “B-Bradley,” you whispered, voice shaking. But instead of pulling away or slowing down, he just hummed in response, the vibration of his chest against your back sending a wave of heat through you.

Finally, you managed to get the key in the lock, and as you opened the door, Bradley’s hands never left you. He followed you inside, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. And then, before you could even react, he pressed you against the door, your back meeting the cool surface with a sharp contrast to the heat of his body.

As Bradley presses you against the door, the heat between you both intensifies. You feel his hands slide down your sides, caressing your curves with a possessive yet gentle touch. The way he brushes his fingers over your skin has your breath catching in your throat, but you can’t help the soft gasp that slips past your lips as he presses his body fully against yours. His lips find your neck again, and this time, it feels different—more demanding, almost desperate.

You tilt your head back to give him more access, and the soft moan that escapes you seems to urge him on. His teeth graze your skin lightly, teasing but just enough to send a jolt through your core. 

Bradley shifted, his leg sliding between yours, pressing firmly against your core. The feeling makes you instinctively move closer to him, your hips pressing down onto his jean clad thigh. He moves his leg slightly and the friction of the denim against your core sends another wave of heat coursing through you. You bite your lip to keep the sound from escaping, but it’s useless. He hears it, feels it, and he responds with a low growl.

“God, you’re already so responsive,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he presses another slow, deliberate kiss along your neck. His hands travel lower, brushing against your waist before they curve possessively over your hips, pulling you even closer. The way you react to his touch, the way your body seems to melt under his hands, drives him wild. It makes him crave more—more of you, more of this.

His lips trail lower, and he pauses at the curve of your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. You shiver, and Bradley’s eyes darken as he watches the way your body responds to him. You don’t even have to speak; every movement you make, every tiny sound you let out, is enough. Your body is practically begging for more, and he’s more than willing to give it to you.

When his hands slip beneath the hem of your dress, you gasp as his fingers graze the soft skin of your thighs. The sensation makes you arch into him, and you hear him chuckle, a low, wicked sound that sends a thrill down your spine.

“You can’t help it, can you?” he murmurs, his lips hovering near yours as he catches your gaze. “Every touch, every kiss—you’re already losing control.”

You swallow hard, the heat in your core intensifying with his words. It’s as if he knows exactly what’s happening inside you, the way your body reacts to his every move. His confidence only fuels the fire inside you, and you find yourself growing bolder, more eager.

“Bradley…” you whisper, your voice breathless, your body trembling as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s no mistaking the desire burning in them.

“Say my name again,” he commands, his voice rough with the same need you feel.

As you do, the sound of your voice saying his name sends a jolt through him, and he kisses you harder, deeper, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, feel how desperately he wants this too.

As his lips return to yours in a heated kiss, he shifts. Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly, his strong arms moving to your butt to support your weight. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the hard planes of his body press against you in a way that makes your heart race. His hands slide lower, gripping your thighs as your arms circle around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him, unable to get enough of the kiss, of him.

In one smooth movement, he begins to walk down the hallway, carrying you with ease as if you weigh nothing at all. Your body shudders against his, and you can’t help but let out a soft moan as you feel his strength, the way he holds you so easily, and the way his lips never leave yours. The heat between you both intensifies with every step he takes toward the bedroom.

You feel his lips trail down to your jaw, the kiss turning more desperate, more demanding as he moves you down the hall. Your breath hitches with every step he takes, and the way his body presses so tightly against yours sends jolts of electricity through you. The thought of what’s to come, the anticipation of being alone together in your room, makes your pulse quicken.

He finally reaches the bedroom door, his hands expertly maneuvering to open it, never breaking the kiss, his breath hot against your lips. He kicks the door open with his foot, not caring that the room is still dimly lit. It’s all about you, and him, and the way you make him lose control.

Once inside, he doesn’t stop. With a low growl, he walks you to the bed, his lips crashing against yours again, the kiss filled with urgency now, as if every second apart from you has only made him want you more. His hands roam, pulling you even closer, never once letting you go as he carefully lays you down on the bed, hovering over you, his lips never straying far from yours.

Your body aches with the anticipation, with the desire that’s been building up since the first touch. You look up at him, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, and there’s no mistaking what he wants now—what you both want.

As Bradley hovers over you, his lips still trailing kisses down your neck, he pulls back for just a second, his gaze dark and intense. His hands grip the hem of your dress and, with a deliberate slowness, he pushes it up over your thighs, exposing the delicate lace of your underwear that you had tried so carefully to hide earlier. His breath hitches when his fingers brush over the fabric, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

You feel the heat of his gaze on you, the way he takes in the sight of you beneath him. The anticipation builds, each second more deliciously tormenting than the last. His hand trails over the lace, a teasing touch that sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

"Who’d you wear these for?" His voice is low, almost a growl, and there's a certain edge to it as his fingers lightly trace the intricate pattern of the lace. "Did you wear these for me?"

A mischievous smirk curves your lips, and you feel a rush of playful confidence. Without missing a beat, you respond, “I wore them for Hangman.”

Bradley’s eyes flare with heat, the playful challenge in your words igniting something dangerous in him. For a moment, his gaze hardens, the air between you thick with tension, but then his lips twitch upward into a knowing smirk.

His hand finds your hair, fingers wrapping around a lock, and before you can brace yourself, he tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him. You gasp at the suddenness of the movement, but it only fuels the fire between you. His breath is hot against your skin as he leans in, his voice a low growl.

“Lying to me?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “That’s not very nice.”

You shiver in response, his control making your pulse race. Bradley’s grip tightens slightly, urging you to tell him the truth.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands, his voice hushed, almost a plea.

You bite your lip, giving in to the weight of his gaze, and you feel the heat of the moment wash over you. “You,” you finally admit, your voice breathy with desire. “I wore them for you.”

"Good girl,” he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers it. 

The praise hits you like a spark, and without even thinking, you find yourself responding, your breath catching as the words sink in. Your body seems to crave it, to crave his approval. The reaction is immediate, instinctual.

Bradley’s eyes flash with satisfaction, and the realization hits him—there’s something there. He watches you closely, a dark glint in his eyes as he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. “You like being praised, don’t you?” he teases, his voice soft but filled with a knowing edge.

Before you can respond, he tries again, testing you. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin.

The reaction is instant, your pulse quickening, a soft gasp escaping you. The tension in the room builds, thick with anticipation, and Bradley smirks as he feels you respond to his words.

He leans in even closer, his breath hot against your neck, and whispers with a possessive edge, “Are you going to be my good girl tonight?”

Your heart races at the question, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The heat between you both becomes undeniable, and you find yourself breathless, wanting nothing more than to please him.

As Bradley’s hands slide down your sides and grab the bottom of your dress, starting to push it up, he notices the way your eyes flicker with a hint of hesitation. There’s a subtle tension in your posture - like you’re unsure whether to let go completely.

His hands hover over your bare skin for a moment, as if waiting for permission to continue. He looks up at you, his gaze searching, and his voice drops lower, full of concern.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, his words gentle but insistent.

As Bradley hovers above you, you feel a wave of self-consciousness creeping in. The way he's looking at you, so focused and intent, only seems to make your insecurities more prominent. You swallow, opening your mouth to speak, but the words don’t quite come out the way you intend.

"I know I'm not..." you trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence, the knot of doubt tightening in your stomach.

Bradley immediately notices the shift in your tone. He pauses, searching your face for any signs of discomfort, and gently takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin. 

"You’re not what?" he asks, his voice soft but insistent, wanting to understand.

You hesitate for a moment longer, the insecurity bubbling up. You don’t want to admit it, but it feels almost impossible to ignore. You shake your head, looking away for a brief second.

Bradley’s fingers tilt your chin up, guiding your gaze back to him, and his eyes are filled with nothing but warmth.

"Hey, look at me." His voice is gentle but firm, grounding you. "I need you to hear me, okay? You are perfect just the way you are." His words sink deep, like a balm for your unease.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and his lips whisper against your skin, "You're beautiful, every part of you. Don’t ever think you’re anything less than that."

The sincerity in his voice is like a switch flipping inside you, and all of a sudden, the tension that had been tight in your chest begins to ease. Bradley’s hands trail slowly down your arms, holding you gently, like he’s never seen anything more perfect. You feel the words settle inside you—his belief in you, his reassurance. You let out a shaky breath, your insecurities fading into the background as you focus on him.

As Bradley’s gaze lingers on you, his hands hovering above your skin, you feel a rush of emotion flood through you. You don’t want to wait any longer. Your hands reach for him, drawing him closer. Without thinking, you pull him in for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, as if the two of you are syncing to the same rhythm, finally on the same wavelength.

Your hands, emboldened by the closeness, move to the bottom of his shirt, fingers brushing over the soft fabric, eager to feel more of him. You start to tug the hem upward, wanting to bring him even closer, your body yearning for his touch.

But then, before you can pull the shirt off entirely, Bradley breaks the kiss, his hands gently stopping yours. He pulls back slightly, his face a mix of concern and tenderness. 

"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice full of care, "I need to make sure you’re still sure. Do you want this? Want me?"

His eyes search yours, silently asking for reassurance, his hands still hovering near yours, giving you control over the next move. There’s no pressure, just a calm, deliberate check-in, ensuring you're comfortable with everything, ready to take the next step.

You pause for a moment, your breath quickening, but you meet Bradley’s eyes with unwavering certainty. You reach up, cupping his face gently, the slight tremble in your hand betraying the intensity of the moment.

“I want this,” you whisper, your voice steady but filled with the anticipation you feel running through every inch of you. “I want you, Bradley. I’m sure.”

Bradley’s expression softens, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and before you can say anything else, he leans in, kissing you again—deeply, passionately—as if he’s been waiting for this moment as much as you have. 

Bradley’s hands hover at the hem of your dress, the fabric soft under his touch. With a slow, deliberate motion, Bradley lifts the dress up, the fabric sliding over your skin, inch by inch. As it moves, you feel exposed—more than just physically, but emotionally. It’s a vulnerable moment, your body bare in front of him, and yet there’s no hesitation in your heart. With Bradley, it feels like this is exactly where you’re meant to be. Every touch, every look, tells you that he sees you, not just your body, but you—and you trust him with that, completely.

The dress is now fully off, discarded somewhere in the room, leaving you in just your lace underwear. You instinctively cross your arms over your chest, a momentary flicker of self-consciousness creeping in, but before it can fully settle, Bradley leans closer.

He doesn’t push you to drop your hands, but gently, he takes them in his, guiding your arms down, his touch soft but firm—reassuring. He gazes at you with an expression that’s both tender and hungry, as if he’s memorizing every curve, every line of your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent. “I don’t think you realize just how perfect you are.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you truly believe it. His words sink in, melting away the doubt and insecurity that had been lingering in your mind.

Bradley leans in, kissing you softly, the touch tender, almost as if asking you to let go. His hands move to your waist, his fingers brushing your skin as if testing the waters. 

“You trust me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the question hanging in the air.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you breathe out a soft, “I trust you.”

With a slow, steady movement, he runs his hands down your sides, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He’s not rushing; there’s no urgency, just a deep, shared connection that makes everything feel so much more meaningful than it would have with anyone else. You’ve never felt so open, so vulnerable—and yet with him, you don’t feel exposed. You feel seen.

You reach for Bradley’s shirt again, your hands moving with a sense of purpose as you start to lift it up, eager to feel his skin beneath your fingertips. The moment your hands brush against the fabric, Bradley pauses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes darken with something playful, a spark of desire flickering in them.

“You’re impatient,” he teases, leaning back just slightly and lifting his arms, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head. It’s like he’s daring you, challenging you to take what you want. His smirk deepens as the shirt finally slips off, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and abs, his skin slightly flushed under your gaze.

Your hands immediately move, running down his chest, feeling the firm lines of his muscles under your touch. There’s no hiding the way your eyes follow the path of your hands—tracing his abs, the small dip of his waist, the strength in his body. Every inch of him seems to pull you closer, your fingers brushing the contours of his body as you trace every detail.

Bradley watches you, his eyes softening with a mix of amusement and desire. “Like what you see?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You don't even try to hide it. Your gaze flickers back to his, a small, confident smirk of your own playing at the corners of your lips. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I do.”

He chuckles softly, but there's no mistaking the heat in his eyes. “Good,” he says, his voice steady but full of promise. “Cause you’ve got all of me, baby.”

You’re not sure what it is about the way he says it—something about the confidence, the calm in his voice—but it drives you even further. Without breaking eye contact, your hands slide lower, feeling the taut muscles of his stomach, the warmth of his skin. You don’t have to say anything more; the desire between you both is palpable, and you can feel how he’s enjoying your touch as much as you are enjoying his.

As Bradley pulled away for a moment, he looked down at you, his gaze soft but intense. He moved his hands to your waist, gently brushing his finger along your skin. His fingers hooked into the top of the lace panties still covering you, and he slid them down your legs with a careful yet deliberate touch. 

He then grabbed one of your hands, pulling you up into a sitting position as he guided your hand to the top of his jeans, silently asking you to help him. You popped the button open on his jeans and then tugged the zipper down. You then shoved the fabric down his legs, letting it pool around his ankles.

You then reached up, your hand sliding into the top of his boxer briefs, your fingers wrapping around him. You heard him let out a breath and looked up at him as you watched his head fall back and his eyes close. “F-fuck, baby.” He breathed out.

You smirked to yourself and then shuffled off the bed, and onto your knees on the carpet in front of him. You pushed his boxers down, pulling him out and then leaned in to wrap your lips around him.

“S-shit.” He mutters as you lean in and lip the precum from his tip before you started to take more of him into your mouth.

One of his hands move to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as you bob on him a few times. You then pull your mouth off of him and lick up the underside of his shaft, along the vein that’s protruding.

“Th-that…just like that.” He groans, and you smile to yourself, loving the reactions you’re getting from him before you wrap your lips around him again. 

You bob a few more times, each time taking a little more of him into your mouth. You feel his fingers start to tug on your hair and his thighs start to tremble slightly.

You reach up and run your hands down his thighs, your nails digging ever so slightly into his skin causing him to hiss. You then wrap your hand around the bottom part of his shaft, squeezing and moving it in rhythm with your mouth as you feel him starting to twitch in your mouth.

He loosens his grip on your hair and instead gathers the hair into a loose, messy ponytail with his fist to get a better view of your face and mouth. 

He thrusts a few more times until you hear him mutter a “f-fuck” and then his hips still, pushing himself all the way into your mouth as you feel the ropes of cum hit the back of your tongue.

Bradley took a step back, his breathing still heavy as he came down from his release. Bradley’s hands are gentle yet firm as he pulls you to your feet, his fingers brushing over your skin.

His eyes meet yours, and the intensity there makes your breath catch in your throat. Without a word, he guides you back to the bed, his movements deliberate and unhurried, like he’s savoring every moment.

As he helps you settle against the sheets, his hands slide down your legs, spreading them apart with a tender care that sends a shiver racing up your spine. His gaze flickers to yours, checking in with silent but unmistakable intent. The way he looks at you—a mix of devotion and desire—makes your chest tighten in the best way.

But just as he begins to lower himself, you instinctively reach out, your hand brushing against his arm. 

“Bradley, wait,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly—not from fear but from the overwhelming rush of emotion coursing through you.

He stops immediately, his brows knitting together as his eyes search yours. “What is it?” he asks softly, his voice low and rough, but tinged with concern. “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “No, I just... I just want you,” you admit, your voice barely audible but filled with honesty. “I need you, Bradley.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his lips curving into a slow, understanding smile. “Anything you want.”

Bradley's smile softens as he leans over you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s both reassuring and electric. His hands roam your sides, grounding you as his touch sends ripples of warmth through your body. He pauses, his forehead resting gently against yours.

"I need to make sure you're ready," he murmurs, his voice laced with care and restraint despite the heat in his gaze.

He reaches down and slides a finger up your slit before inserting a finger. You let out a soft, impatient sigh, your hands gripping his shoulders as you shift beneath him.

“Bradley, I’m ready,” you insist, your voice steady but tinged with urgency. “I’ve been ready.”

He chuckles low in his chest, the sound rumbling through you. His lips brush your cheek, then your ear, as he murmurs, "Easy, sweetheart. I want you to enjoy this.”

The tenderness in his tone makes your heart ache in the best way, but it doesn’t quell the fire coursing through you. He slides a second finger inside you and starts to pump them in an out of you, before he slides a third one in.

Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck as you tilt your hips up toward him, your movements deliberate and unspoken proof of your eagerness. His breath hitches slightly, and he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression soft but full of amusement. 

"You’re something else, you know that?" he teases, his grin crooked as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

"Then stop stalling," you counter with a small, defiant smirk, your voice playful despite the longing in your eyes.

His grin widens, and he shakes his head, his laughter quiet but full of affection. "Impatient, huh?" he says, his tone teasing but laced with promise.

Bradley shifts above you, his playful smirk fading into something softer, more serious. He leans down, brushing a tender kiss against your lips before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand cups your cheek as his thumb strokes your skin, and you can see the slight hesitation flicker in his eyes.

"Wait," he says gently, his voice low but steady. "What about protection?"

You blink, his question pulling you from the haze of your desire. 

He seems almost sheepish as he adds, "I didn’t bring anything. I wasn’t exactly expecting this."

Your lips curve into a small smile, and you nod toward the dresser behind him. "Top drawer," you say softly. "I think there’s some in there."

He glances back briefly, his brow lifting in mild amusement. "You think?"

"It’s been awhile, it’s not something I normally keep on my weekly grocery list.” You pause for a moment before continuing. “But if not…I’m on birth control, and I was clean at my last physical and I haven’t been with anyone since."

"Still," he says after a moment, his voice warm but resolute, "let’s check, just to be safe."

He leans over, reaching for the dresser, and you take the opportunity to let your hands glide along his back, feeling the taut muscles shift under your touch. When he opens the drawer and finds what he’s looking for, he holds it up with a grin.

"Got it," he says, his tone lightening, though the look he gives you as he turns back is anything but.

He positioned himself between your hips as he slid the condom onto his length. He looked up at you, almost as if silently making sure you wanted this. And once you nodded in confirmation he started to push the tip inside of you.

Bradley's movements are slow, deliberate, but as he shifts, you can’t help the soft hiss of discomfort that escapes your lips. His entire body stills immediately, and his head snaps up to meet your gaze. His brows knit together, concern darkening his features.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice laced with worry. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head quickly, not wanting him to feel guilty, but the way his eyes search your face tells you he’s not convinced.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice trembling slightly. “I just need a second.”

He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to reassure you. “Take all the time you need,” he whispers, his tone steady but full of care.

His hands stroke soothing paths along your sides, grounding you, while his gaze never wavers from yours. “You tell me if it’s too much,” he adds, his voice softer now but resolute. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, your hand reaching up to brush his cheek. “I’m okay,” you say again, this time with more conviction. “I promise.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over your hip as if silently asking for permission to continue. When you give him a small smile and a nod, he leans in to kiss you again, the tenderness in his actions a clear reminder that his focus is entirely on you.

His hips soon find a steady random as he pushed into you and then pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in. It didn’t take long, maybe a minute or two, until the pain faded completely and you started to feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

You can feel the change in him too, the way his body tenses beneath your touch. His breathing grows heavier, more ragged, and his movements falter just slightly as he draws closer to the edge. Your eyes drift down, catching the way his stomach tightens, the subtle ripple of muscles contracting involuntarily. It’s mesmerizing—the sheer vulnerability of it, the way his body responds to you so completely.

When you look back up at him, his jaw is clenched, his brows drawn together, and yet his gaze still finds yours. In that moment, he looks utterly undone, and it sends a shiver through you.

“I’m-”

“Me too,” he breathed out as you felt his grip on your hip tighten. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.”

And that’s all it takes. Your head rolls back and your eyes close as your back arches off the ground. Bradley’s grip on your hips tighten, holding you in place, just a second before his hips still and he releases into the condom.

Bradley collapses onto the bed beside you, half-draped over your body, his head resting near your shoulder as his arm instinctively wraps around your waist. His chest rises and falls against yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath as the quiet of the room wraps around you. The light sheen of sweat on his skin glistens faintly in the dim light, and the warmth of his body grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. You’re both too caught up in the aftermath, the unspoken emotions swirling between you. Bradley presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there as if to remind you he’s still close, still here.

“You okay?” he murmurs finally, his voice hoarse but full of genuine concern. His hand brushes over your side, tender and careful, as if he’s checking for any signs of discomfort.

You nod, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

Bradley smiles back, his eyes softening. “Good,” he says, his thumb now tracing slow, soothing circles on your hip. “Because that...was amazing.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, your chest shaking with the sound. “Yeah, it was,” you agree, your fingers idly trailing down the length of his arm as you let the moment settle between you.

After a moment, he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you more fully. His free hand reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “You’re incredible,” he says softly, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity that makes your cheeks flush.

You don’t know how to respond, so you lean up just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “So are you,” you manage, and it’s true. There’s something about the way he looks at you now, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him, that makes your chest tighten with a mix of affection and vulnerability.

He grins at your words, but it’s not his usual cocky grin—it’s softer, almost bashful. “I should grab us some water,” he says, even though he doesn’t make any move to leave your side.

“Or we could just stay like this,” you suggest, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley chuckles, settling back against you. “Deal,” he murmurs, letting his head rest against your shoulder once more.

The two of you lie there in comfortable silence, your bodies tangled together, as the world outside fades away.

[hoseoksluna]

— WIP 𐙚 part 4 of wine

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

about: the first time jungkook owns oc’s orgasm

word count: 0.417

note: because i started writing part four so late in the week (friday and i barely had time during this weekend to write) due to the fact i struggled hard, here i give you at least a little something on updating day. im really sorry its not the full thing yet, but i promise i'm working hard and i'll post it for you sometime next week. i'm really excited about what i've written and i can't wait to show you. please enjoy the little excerpt && keep your fingers crossed for me. love you all <;3

side note: happy belated birthday to my husband yoongi, the poetry to my words, the sanity to my mind. my anchor, my everything. i miss him terribly and i love him.

warnings: clit rubbing, shyness, riding fingers, jungkook penetrates her mid-climax and has a very tender reason for it

𐙚

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.  

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re really not sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

[rottiens]

✮ tags. . canon au, satoru x no sorceress reader, neighbor!satoru, pinning, sfw (except maybe at the end, but it's nothing explicit).

✮ notes. . just a silly lil thing I had on the wips, this was way before the manga ended only now I've been encouraged to finish it, I think, it goes along with how the manga ended (no spoilers!) and is just a glimpse maybe at satoru's canon personality (I miss him painfully). divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 1.9K

It has always been written in Satoru's nature that he must protect others. Even before he was born, his destiny was marked by the six-eyed ancestor, and the person before him and then the one before that.

He has taken on the role of caretaker of others long before he could have the choice to decide if he wanted it. In his hands is the power to care for his students, his clan, and every sorcerer he knows and those he doesn't even know. The weight of responsibility this puts on him over time has faded, with years of experience Satoru has learned to take the weight off the stress that comes with his responsibility as the strongest and has decided to accept his fate, without much thought to the title that haunts him wherever he goes, he was not simply Satoru, he was the strongest, always.

When called he goes, when ordered he acts. He attends mission after mission, traveling from one city to another and gets to the apartment he bought near the center of the city to flop down on the softness of the expensive mattress, often too tired to take off his uniform, shoes or blindfold, he lets the darkness of the place, the nearby noise of the air conditioner and the light traffic of the street pamper him.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember the last time he took a vacation or, he can't be that greedy; he just doesn't remember the last day he had off where he could have gone to the sea, sunbathed and sunk his feet in the sand, unless this wasn't part of a mission one way or the other. And that's fine, although he doesn't like to see himself as it, he's just another tool of the system and the tools....

Bang, bang, bang!

Satoru lifts his head from the boiling coffee pot with the brown puddle inside it looking like a fountain, he leans further over the countertop paying attention to the sound that seems to be coming from his front door. Something hard, solid, seems to hit the wood, not a fist... it must be something else, he deduces at once.

The coffee pot goes silent and the aroma of fresh coffee beans escapes throughout his kitchen. Satoru lifts his back and walks barefoot towards the entrance, whoever was behind he couldn't sense it. It wasn't Shoko, obviously he could smell her cigarette from inside if it was, the person whoever it was... it didn't smell like anything, and Satoru was curious about it.

“Hello?” your voice is soft, sweet as candy, or at least that's how Satoru perceives it. And being a sugar addict, he can't help but take a step forward, deciding to finally open the door before your fist, or whatever else you're using to interrupt his quiet morning, knocks a third time.

“Hey.” Satoru stops a flirtatious smile that he disguises with a polite one. Friendly. Like the good neighbor he is.

Satoru could be living much closer to Jujutsu High, in the modern condo just a block away, ideal for always being on time. But where would be the fun in being early every day? Even though with just a snap of his fingers he could show up in the middle of the classroom whenever he wanted, he likes to use the distance as an excuse whenever someone asks him why he was late.

Actually, Satoru doesn't know anyone in the neighborhood. He always comes late at night and leaves at dawn, sometimes before the sun even rises; so he doesn't remember seeing you before. And if he ever did, as someone with no cursed energy, you would have gone totally unnoticed.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, trying not to make his confusion sound abrupt, though his brows furrow a bit as he watches you curiously.

You are contemplated like a bug under a microscope, with your neighbor's glowing blue eyes you feel stalked, small even. His eyes catch all the light in the hallway, they seem to glow and his dilated pupils catch your attention causing that no matter how much you avoid him, you always end up returning to his gaze, not to mention how tall he is and how peculiar his white hair is, unlike him, you prefer not to stare.

He finds you interesting, he can't stop looking at you. The only other person he knew incapable of being able to feel was dead now. So you were something unique to him, something that arouses genuine interest in him.

“This.” A box, almost your size in your hands. On top, a yellow envelope. “It's yours, I received these packages a few weeks ago and I meant to return them to you earlier but whenever I stopped by you weren't home...”

His frown deepens for a second before replacing it with a relaxed expression. He finds the situation strange, taking into account that he is never home, he buys everything he needs in person, he rarely shops online so he doubts that someone has sent packages in his name, to his address.

Anyway, he decides to accept it when he sees your trembling fingers clutching the box. He takes it from your arms and you let out a grateful groan, whatever is inside is heavy.

“Thank you,” you say. Satoru catches you looking him up and down, he had barely gotten out of the shower after coming in from running a few miles.

His hair was dry, somewhat fluffy giving him a relaxed look, and dark gray sweatpants are hanging off his hips. He's wearing a white cotton t-shirt that still clings a bit to his skin from the heat of the bathroom.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” the question leaves his lips almost automatically, and while his tone is nonchalant, Satoru waits curiously. You've probably already noticed the particular aroma wafting from his apartment, that mix between fresh coffee and something a little more mysterious. There's nothing wrong with the invitation, is there? After all, he's just trying to be a good neighbor, even if, deep down, the truth is that he wants to catch something from you, to find a way to feel your presence, to get to know you a little better as he does with anything that piques his interest.

You smile, with that reserved touch, and bring your hands behind your back, tucking them into the pockets of your shorts as you sway subtly on your heels. And even though he can't sense your energy, he almost seems to predict your response just by watching you.

“Maybe later.” Sure.

He didn't expect you to walk into a stranger's place just for coffee, he had to take a chance anyway.

“Thanks again, neighbor.”

He doesn't try to sound flirtatious but he does. You're cute, you're his type and you're not a sorceress, that just makes you more irresistible to a person who is used to always keeping control of everything that happens around him.

That morning with the box in your hands that, later, he realized was full of books and manuscripts that were sent from his clan to deliver to the school library, was the first time Satoru saw you. From then on he tried to make the encounters between the two of you less and less casual and more planned.

At first it was difficult, arranging his busy schedule in such a way that he would sometimes meet you in the hallways, taking the elevator or opening the door to your place in such a way that it seemed coincidental but Satoru succeeded. Within a few weeks he had learned about your schedule when you were at home, so he was always looking for an excuse for him to be around at the same time.

In between casual conversations, he began to get to know you better, discovering where you came from and how long ago you had moved into the big building. Satoru realized that you weren't just a pretty face; you had a good heart, an apartment decorated with real plants, and a cat that ran to greet you at the door with a meowing song, brushing against Satoru's legs in greeting.

After a couple of months, you had created a routine that he found comforting. He was next to you in this utopian bubble where no one else existed, a place where he didn't have to be alert all the time.

And... where was he? Right. The tools, the system and all that.

Tools like him don't think or make decisions; they're designed only to be used when they're needed. But with you, he felt like a regular man, one who didn't see curses crawling down the hallway trying to pierce your home, or one who wasn't constantly overstimulated by the energy that engulfed the world, one who wasn't aware of the changes in the cursed energy of others. With you, he was, really, just Satoru Gojo; one who didn't know he could be something more, someone more than the title he was given at birth. He was an ordinary high school teacher, and you were just you; you saw him as something more than the strongest and there was something beautiful for the first time in the raw idea of being nothing more than a mere human.

For the first time, he didn't feel his responsibility as a burden, but as a gift. It was the first time he didn't feel overwhelmed or with a bad taste in his mouth for being a tool, because now he could use it to take care of you. It was the first time he felt good about the responsibility of caring for someone like you.

“What do you think?” You're about to fall asleep on his couch, a couch he only uses when you come to visit him, so Satoru thinks he can't waste the opportunity to admire you up close. Watching your moles, how smooth your skin looks, the sweat dampening your collarbone and how much he wishes he could drink it.

When caught staring like a stalker, he doesn't flinch; he simply brings his eyes back to yours. You have one eye squinted watching him, while the other struggles to stay open, the dialogue from the show in the background fading like white noise.

“You're tired.” You snort before closing your eyes completely.

“I'm not. I want to finish this episode with you,” you say, clearly drowsy, snuggling further into the couch and clinging to the cushion between your legs, which Satoru wishes was his head. He sighs, feeling a tug on his ribs.

“Why don't you sleep for a while?” he suggests, playing ping pong between your lips and your face.

You purr something intelligible as the fist holding your chin weakens slowly while the dialogue on the television ends and the white letters begin to slowly scroll across the screen. Satoru consumes you with his gaze, inclined to touch you and settle you better on the softness of his couch. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels his shorts tighten. The skin of your arm so warm under his knuckles, just as he had thought, and he thinks if he set his mind to it he could watch you sleep all day.

In a moment of hesitation, Satoru moves a little closer, feeling the warmth of your breath brush against his face, your lips pout indicating the level of relaxation you're in. Fuck. Just before he can do something he shouldn't, he jumps up and heads for the kitchen, where he grabs a glass of cold water and rushes to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and yanking down his shorts.

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim falling in the time stream and YJ fishing him out happens post brucequest so Bart and Kon are alive which helps Cassie keep herself from being gaslit by well meaning members of the justice league who completely forget/ignore/disregard that Batman literally just came back from the "dead" and so Cassie can have Kon and Bart there to keep her from forming or joining another cult

Bruce's reaction depends on the writer and how they feel about Bruce though his family seeing him go into a depressive spiral at the loss of a kid in his custody and getting some partial insight into just how bad he may have been immediately post Jason and the stuff that Tim had to deal with would be interesting, and the family dynamics of dealing with Damian who no longer has the verbal punching bag and focus of jealousy that is Tim available

Ooh. Now I want to kill Tim off in a fic and watch the batfam implode as they deal with their grief and come to several realizations. I've got too many WIPs for that, though.

Anyways, YJ is out here gripping their sanity and determination to bring Tim home by their blood-stained finger nails. It's hysterical laughing, refusing to cry (because he's not dead), and chaotic adventures that aren't as fun without Tim.

When Tim gets back, all four of them (and the retired members) are in agreeance. Fuck the JL. Fuck the other heroes.

For the batfam, we'll say Bruce can't go out to find Tim for plot. The exact reason can be up to the dealer, but he either doesn't hear YJ's theories, or he can't go look for Tim.

This traps Bruce with the rest of the batfam.

Damian, a kid who still looks up to his dad, is suddenly forced into Tim's Robin's role.

He, at first, isn't too upset that Batman is being harsher. Surely, the man would know what's best. Perhaps he's just realizing that criminals should he punished harder (not personal beliefs, obv. Just speculation of Damian's mindset).

Then Bruce gets worse. And worse.

Suddenly, the twelve year old is frozen as he watches the brutality of which Batman is pummeling someone. He's watching as blood flings off of Bruce's gauntlets onto the alley floors and walls. He's hearing the victim pleading.

Damian's not scared. Of course he isn't. That's ridiculous....

He just kind of wishes his Batman, Dick, was there instead.

Damian also has lost his ability to insult Tim. While it's not uncommon to go months without seeing Drake, his family's reactions to Damian's usual comments have changed. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at him or getting angry for what he's saying. He knows Tim died (and gods does it burn that he'll never get to know the older man), but why is the family getting mad at him? They've always let the comments go in the past.

It's an unhealthy coping mechanism and mindset that Damian developed of continuously comparing himself to Drake and dragging the older man down. It's a bit late, but Damian realizes that he doesn't hate Tim. He might have even admired him. He was blinded by his need to feel wanted in a family that chose everyone but him (at least, that's how he thought it was).

It's cruel he only comprehended this after Tim's death.

Jason is still on the outskirts of the family. Yet, from his distance, he has a front row seat to watching Bruce rapidly descend into his grief. Maybe the man denies that's what Bruce was like when Jason died (because Bruce liked Tim more than Jason). Someone points out that any animosity Jason and Bruce have was post his revival (and honestly fuck them for that). They also point out that this Bruce, the spiraling wave of fury, is a much more supported and restrained Batman. Tim, as a thirteen year old, witnessed and pulled this man from his even worse grief.

Jason doesn't know how to process that.

Dick is older and closer. He has to grapple with the fact that he failed another little brother. Another one is dead.

He also has to watch his dad descend into grief all over again. He's closer than he was when Jason died, back when he was brimming with rage at Bruce and despair. He's getting a closer production of Bruce's unhealthy coping skills.

He has to explain to his siblings and himself that last time, when Jason died, Tim weathered this storm. Dick came around, but not nearly enough. He couldn't for his own mental health.

That doesn't assauge his guilt.

Cass :( Imma say she's out there helping YJ. She believes them. It doesn't change how much Tim's death hurts, but she holds onto hope.

Alfred has to watch his son mourn again. Alfred has to mourn his grandson and watch his son destroy himself again. Alfred has to watch the family implode upon itself.

He doesn't have hope that another kind soul like Tim's will be here this time around. He can only offer support as he hopes the family makes it through this time.

When Tim comes back, he's not angry that the JL didn't help or believe YJ. He's not even disappointed.

He's resigned.

He's not upset the Bats didn't do anything either.

Creating YJ wasn't originally about ensuring Tim had support he could count on. He's glad it turned into that, though. He wouldn't give any of them up for the world.

[writingmochi]

cast: soobin ✗ fem.reader (ft. odd eye circle)

synopsis: as you stood on the crowded train while making eye contact with the boy from the neighboring school, light shines into the dim train car as it becomes empty and filled with sand. approaching you is a humanoid figure, who calls you the king and queen of viliya—the island kingdom that is plagued with nightmares that haunt its people which you and the boy are also not immune to

genre: two lost souls find comfort, silent lovers, magical realism, meet ugly, hurt/comfort, adventure, thriller, coming of age, romance, high school au, late 2010s au, angst, fluff, mature content (phobias, trauma, war, explicit smut)

inspired by: music my bloody valentine's "i only said" (1991), txt's 2019-2020 star seekers music videos ("nap of the star", "magic island", "eternally"), and movies bridge to terabithia (2007) and tigers are not afraid (2017)

word count: 28472 (28.4k)

warning(s): numerous traumas and phobias, war imagery (refugees, weapons, etc), bruises, scars, and blood, suicide and suicide attempt, parental abuse (physical and mental), minor character deaths, parental neglect, sex addiction and its impact on a child, sharp object(s) drug consumption (cigarette, soobin's character is addicted to nicotine) and more mentioned, mention of self-harming, mention of bullying, explicit smut, lost of virginities (m&f), hand job (m&f receiving), oral (m&f receiving), marking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie (if there is something that i forgot, let me know!)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

hello! it's been nearly a year since i've posted the visualizer and people seemed to dig it. having much more time of my hands, i decide to pick up the pace for this fic to skim my wips, especially those that i have released teasers to~ if you will be reading this, thank you for giving it a chance and hope you enjoy it!

playlist | visualizer part of the loveless anthology | an entry for discovery: 400 and solstice: a comeback story

everything around you is either orange or black.

a hand reaches up and is placed gently on the side of your head, brushing against the throbbing sense as you tilt back to breathe in such suffocating air. the dark scenery lights up as more of the orange comes into sight. that’s when you hear it. voices. fearful voices.

the blurriness went away in an instant as you looked at your surroundings covered only in shadows and silhouettes. screams combined with crashes as you watch humanoid figures running around you. tall dark buildings enveloping from the sides as you noted how their corners are torn away—leaving behind leftover bricks that are awaiting gravity to pull it down and join with the rubble. your body trembles as you view the haunting scene masked in the darkness where the orange decorates the sky alongside a purple-ish hue coming from the silhouettes.

that’s when you feel something cold trailing down your cheek. the side where you put your hand previously.

as the orange light illuminates you, you raise both hands to find the palms covered in darkness. a dark, gooey substance that makes you want to gag as your vision gazes back to the silhouettes. only to be met with their rigid lines becoming more blurry, more wavey. paralleling the outline of the substance on your hands.

your jaw unhinges, yet no voice comes out.

the sound of the announcement startles you as you turn your head to find yourself in the underground station you are standing in. breath ragged as you push your body from the thick column you were leaning against, your heartbeat still going at a fast pace as your breathing calms it down.

looking down at your palms, you find nothing on them except the sticky sweat coming from their pores—making you hastily rub them against your uniform skirt to dry them before straightening the rest of your clothing pieces; your school’s plain navy vest that has its logo and the pin with your name on it. you also repair the black arm sleeves covering both of your forearms as you pick up the rumbling sound of the train coming in on the other side of the glass barriers: finding yourself in the dark reflection before you stand behind the people waiting in line to get in.

tugging your wired earphone buds into both of your ears from your skirt pocket, the train cars stop in front of their assigned doors as they open simultaneously. your eyes glance at the gap between the platform and the train car as you step across it before settling at your usual place by the door of the opposite side where it won’t open. your nimble fingers quickly open the music application as you turn on the playlist you usually listen to when you commute. you find yourself in the reflection of the glass window of the door you stood in front of, seeing your frazzled self as you notice the signature of your dark under-eye area in a half-circle shape. when you hear the train door close and sense the force of the train pushing you along the track, you take a long breath as you put another pin on the daydream that you have envisioned in your memory.

the music chugs along with the train as you ride under the district of gangnam in seoul metro’s line 7; the usual olive green color you encounter every time you commute to and from school from station number 731. your train is filled with mostly working commuters as gangnam is where many businesses reside. schools also litter around the district in the different neighborhoods where you see a few students as young as elementary schoolers to people your age in high school commuting. you didn’t expect to actually feel melancholic about it, but it is expected when this is the last semester you’ll be riding this line before you graduate later this year. but, you also feel melancholic for another thing other than the train ride—that’s why, as you pick up the train wheel screeching from beneath you, you turn around and face the door across that will be open in station 730.

people came into and went out from the train as you looked at the blinking light of the station name above the door, seeing the other unlit dots of your journey with this line as you’ll see them lit up soon. you felt your backpack rest beside the thin glass wall that protects the people sitting from the people standing by the door as you felt the rush of the autumn wind getting sucked up with the door closing. as the train continues its journey, you shift your head to the side, finding the sight that you’ve waited every time you ride this line in this particular time.

on the other side from where you at, across the long line of seats where people rested, stand a few people who got in from the other doors available in this train car. there amongst the crowd stands a tall boy who is dressed in a similar outfit to yours. the autumn uniform’s vest is a light grey color instead—representing his high school. a neighbor of your own school, since it is only blocks away.

ever since you’ve ridden this train car in your 2nd year of high school, you always come across him. every time you ride on the train as you commute to school, you always find him in that very spot as the train comes to pick you up. and you always watch him step out at station 730, tugging onto his backpack as he heads to his classes and leaving you to ride one more stop so you can go to yours. yet, you realized that this was not a one-sided interaction when you caught onto him looking your way. well, looking at you as you catch his eyes following yours while you move to stand nearer to the door of your stop.

yet, neither of you has approached each other. the stretch of seats between both of you and the people sitting on them or standing in the narrow lane separating them becoming the barrier between you two.

you rarely have crushes. but you consider him as one. every time you look at him, you can feel warmth and calmness spreading across your body; making you seem slightly better before facing the other tribulations of life. your lips protruding into a small pout as you see him wearing his headphones, head nodding along with the music he heard when you catch small shadows on his cheeks—dimples as you presumed—before he glances his eyes at you as you let the music entering your ears also entertaining your day; giving you even a small smile, acknowledging your existence. sometimes you stand in the lane where the seats at, halfway closer to where he stood as your usual spot is filled. but something seems to still make you stand apart as you observe his side of the train covered with a crowd.

the realization hits you. that he is something to be admired from afar, to lighten up your day before darkness finds a way to cover it up again.

the train stops as you watch him gently putting on the headphones that were hanging around his neck, pivoting as you lean your head back to find the station where you arrived lit up with a bright red dot. station 729: cheongdam. then, you sense it. your breath hitches and your senses heightened as you can feel your blood rushing in your blood vessels. eyes blinking as you can already sense presence all over you. looming inside and even outside of the train car. when the door closes, the thumb that was caressing your fingertips stops and you balled your hand into a fist. head now straight and mighty as you follow the train’s journey progressing to the part of the line that always haunts you more and more.

you always experience something weird when the train is nearing the cheongdam bridge. it is as if your senses are being attacked in a sweep when goosebumps form in a wave before it calms down. then it starts again as the train approaches the outdoor part of its journey to cross the body of water. the lights inside flicker as you look outside to view the han river from under the bridge, yet sometimes, it’s not a river, but a beach.

the sky is the clear turquoise blue that reflects the seawater. the view of the river bank turns into sand that’s lining the barrier of land and sea. you could sometimes hear crashing waves from it even if you only see the setting sky as it changes from day to night. though now, that turquoise sky is getting darker and darker, even darker than the sunset you usually find when you cross on the hanging tracks from the cheongdam bridge to ttukseom park.

then you see it: the visions.

quick time-lapse of the neon streetlights, crumbling buildings crashing down as their support couldn’t hold on, humanoid beings who can fly as they attacked something dark. only the color orange highlights everything before you see flickers of a woman with long platinum blonde locks and white dress, calling out your name as your eyes are trying to focus on her heterochromia ones.

you’ve always held onto the nearest surface as you glance at the dots turning red between cheongdam and ttukseom park stations, breathing in and out as you felt your palm getting sweatier when you felt the whole compartment seemed to shake more and more as you approached the bridge and let the light from outside coming in. recently, the shakiness is getting rougher and the vision more frequent. but you’ve always tried to comfort yourself and look at the boy across from you if he is okay.

because it seems like you’re not the only one noticing all the things you’ve experienced, especially when you see him mumbling whilst staring at the red dots lighting up on top of the door when the train approaches the bridge.

with your eyes widened with the realization, the train car rattles as you nearly fall. hands up and legs placed wide as you don’t want to fall and nudge someone, you stumble forward as you reach for the handle hanging from the ceiling. your vision glances back at the dots lining the top of the car door. the train on its journey away from cheongdam station clearly with three red dots lighting up. it returns to the boy as you catch him staring at you, eyes communicating with each other with something more to it. the usual shy glances were gone as you stayed in eye contact with him, saying to him ‘yes, i do feel what you felt’.

the light on the train flickers as you hear the screeching noise from the train running along the rail, sensing the train car curve following the underground tracks. and yet, your eyes remain on him before glancing to view the progress of the dots. shivers suddenly rise and send chills to your skin as you remind yourself of the specific dot where the train car will emerge out of the tunnel and into the outside area of the line even under the cheongdam bridge. then, you see it. the visions.

it flickers in your eyes and changes as you blink, showing a few frames. the orange view on top and black on the bottom. the silhouette of winged people and other variants running away. falling debris of buildings crushing on vehicles. shadow figures stand from the edge of your vision as it approaches you closer and closer. the familiar blonde-haired girl showing up in front of you, blinking in and out of existence as you have a close of her different colored eyes. shaking your head, you turn to look at the dots, the red light getting closer to the specific one as the train car shakes around you, yet none of the people seems to be bothered as you only see the boy standing across from you reacting to it discreetly.

he also gazes at the dots as you watch him mumble words you couldn’t decipher. the sound of music you are listening to also glitches out in your ears, making them allowing you to listen to the environmental noises that it makes. the boy catches your eyes staring at him, eyebrows furrowed as he also has the same. yet, he nods his head, only to you. only for you to understand. the train is ever so close to the opening as you hear strange sounds that you shouldn’t hear. the calls of your name, the sound of the waves, the sound of cries. and your eyes remain on his as they also perturbed him. but he continues to nod his head until he closes his eyes, soothing himself as he focuses on the sound he listens to from his headphones. you follow alongside him, focusing on the music entering your eyes that seemed to cut off as the car trembles. your grip on the handle tightens as you stand your ground, spreading your weight so you don’t fling as easily.

from your closed eyelids, you see it. the light level rising as a gush of wind hits you. your hands gripping onto the handle and your backpack strap tight so you don’t fall. the rubber exterior of your wired earphones flapping against your cheek and jaw as the light enters, nearly blinding you. your hair flails around from the quick airflow as you hold on for your dear life for survival. to find yourself arriving at the next station safe and sound. to see the boy with your very eyes once again.

then you smell it. the salt in the air. even sharper than before. the sound of the train moving comes crashing with the wave noise that arrives on the land, even overcoming it. the wind blows yet it doesn’t come the way the train is going, which is northward. it enters and caresses you gently from the sides where the windows are. when you try to balance yourself, you instead felt the ground uneven and one of your feet being sucked by gravity.

something is different.

with courage and curiosity, you open your eyes. the strong sunlight emitting into the car hits you, making you bow your head, examining the gray-colored floor now filled with creme colors and your feet sunken into it. sand.

the sound of seagulls catches your attention as you glance outside of the window, finding a shoreline on the other side. the foam created from the moving wave meeting the sand as its sizzling sound makes your ticklish. looking upwards, the red dots are off alongside the open doors on both sides of the cart. you didn’t realize you were still holding onto the hanging handle until you look straight forward from where you are, finding the boy in the same pose as you; expressing the thought you are currently experiencing.

loosening the grip, you turn to see your palm and find a distinct long rectangle marked on it from the handle, sensing the blood rushing to put back the oxygen you held back from grabbing it too tight. you remain standing there, hearing your music still playing in your ears, even with one earbud off. and your sight remains on him, not wanting to let go. so, you step first. and he follows.

one step at a time, you gaze at the created footsteps from your sneakers’ soles on the sand. the boy was looking at his palm whilst walking towards you. there, in the middle between two lines of seats across from each other, you and he finally stand before each other. your breath is haggard as you focus on your drumming heartbeat, gazing at him who stands before you. jaw lower as you calm your inhales, you pick up another set of footsteps before you even say “hi.”

with both of your heads turn towards the same direction, you notice an approaching figure coming towards the train car. they wear a flowy white dress as the sun reflects on the light hair color, blonde. they approach the car fast whilst having a brown-hued backpack on their back, the soft footsteps getting hard as she steps onto the sand-covered floor. the long flowy blonde hair frames her face as she controls her breath. while she’s doing that, you gaze at her hair and see how her earlobe pokes through the long hair strands. an elven type of ear that you’ve seen illustrations of before. yet, when she lifts her head, both you and the boy gasp together.

there, as she brushes her cheek from specks of sand, is a face you’ve often seen. the long blonde hair and the heterochromia eyes. an odd blue eye.

“thank caelum.” she lets out a gasp before she pauses, a wide smile threatening to show up even with the smile that she has. and she bows down half her body.

“your majesties.”

your majesty?

turning your head, you catch the boy’s face looking at you, catching each other speaking the same thing at the same time.

“yes, king soobin and queen (y/n)...” she mentioned your name as you glanced back at him, looking down to his pin name tag on his vest, reading “choi soobin” before moving your eyes upward to his eyes to find his eyeline on your own name tag, confirming your name to him too.

the blonde girl clears her throat before continuing to speak. “you’ve been slipping in and out of this part of the beach. when i heard a horn and something heavy crashing by the beach, i knew that it was going to be the two of you.”

“how do you know us?” the voice startles you as you return your eyeline to the boy, his voice much deeper than you realized from his face when asking. with the number of things you wanted to learn about him, you’ve always wondered about his voice. and you can feel butterflies flying around in your stomach because of it.

“well...” she steps closer to where you at, “both of you were originally from here. but then, you had to leave and trust us to keep viliya in order. the prophecies, tales, and legends were told in the past 200 years of when both of you will be back, that the people will witness the return of the true leaders of viliya come back in their corporeal form. as you both have only appeared in soul and voice to us.”

“wait...” you sounded, nearly cutting her voice yet she finished hers faster. hearing the way she described how you interacted before—other than seeing a blinking vision of her—reminds you of the many images that are ingrained in your mind. sure, the visions are enough, but this is where it differs. because you have also seen her in your dreams.

the sight of a lush forest in the background of a bustling town where people mostly walk with a few cars moving around. its architectural design looks similar to your usual neighborhood block but with the intricacies of something gothic. the sight of the orange-colored view comes back as the blurriness becomes clearer. you remember looking around the familiar plaza with strung decorations hanging above you. people crowding around you as their silhouettes shaped them in varieties you don’t see in “regular” humans, and you remember turning your head to the side, finding the boy you’ve always seen in the train car looking back at you in a long-sleeved white shirt: opening his palm for you to grasp. and you did.

“the dreams?” he, soobin, takes the word out of your mouth as you return your gaze back at him, finding his eyes looking around as he also seems to remember something. something he has experienced like you also did. shifting back to the elven girl, she gives a stern nod as your suspicions are answered instantly.

your breath hitches, shivers creating goosebumps as it runs all over your body, taking in that the most magical thing you’ve experienced in your life was in fact something of a reality. yet doubt comes back in as you say, “start from the beginning.” your eyes are now fixed on the blonde, “please...”

she gives a small smile and starts.

“my name is jinsoul. i am one of the three keepers of the kingdom trusted by you to take care of this island in your absence. i worked on most of the exterior administration stuff, deals, conflicts, and more. we, viliyans, are... you can see for yourselves.” she pointed the peeking part of her elven ear between the hairs. “though, currently, we are not in the best shape to accommodate your arrival, your majesties.”

“shadows...” soobin said whilst also letting out his breath. her—jinsoul’s—blue heterochromia eye is sparkling as she takes in that he and you seem to know what is going on. that is probably why you’ve been having dreamless sleep for the past week but the increasing vision every time you ride between cheongdam and the ttukseom park station. how the warm hue of the sun-shined beach has become darker. how it relates to the vision you’ve seen in that train station. how you notice your own shadow getting bigger than before.

“correct. we...” she sighs, contemplation moving in her eyes before saying something. “we are currently in an ongoing skirmish. well, war, as lip would say, against these shadow beings. they,” jinsoul nipped her lip, “have been wrecking heavy on the buildings-“

“ruins. crumbling.”

your head stood tall as your words entered hers and the boy’s ears, “many of the buildings are in ruin. some even obscured behind the shadows unseeable to the other side. people running around trying to find shelter.”

“with what the caelum has given us upon your arrival, it is genuinely a blessing. the citizens are in despair, losing hope.” her two different irises glance at you both. “to know that their leaders are here with them now could be a turning point for this war.”

something vibrates as you watch floating music note shapes coming out from jinsoul’s side, the red music note getting more prominent as pull out what looks to be a regular stone, but you can hear mumbles coming from it. that is when you pick up coherent voices talking, followed by another set of floating music notes now in purple.

“is it them?” the red voice calls out.

“yes,” jinsoul said, the corner of her lips raised, “it is them.”

“then don’t let them stay there. come to the forest and let them meet us.” red continues with jinsoul replying, noticing how the stone glows blue every time she talks before she tugs the stone away once again, looking back at the two of you. “well, you’ve heard what lip said. follow me, your majesties.”

turning around, she leads the way as you give a glance at soobin. his eyes looking back at you before signaling with his chin, making you follow behind jinsoul as you caught onto the footsteps behind you from him. stepping out of the capsized train car, you see how the end of it gets hit by the incoming wave that comes and goes. scratches adorned its metal body as it saves you from even feeling that scratches themselves while arriving here. pivoting towards the right from where you are walking, you find the footsteps that were coming towards the car as jinsoul treks back with it, arriving in a small opening of an emerald-colored forest.

the trees create a perfect shield against the sky and sun as only a few openings create sunbeams that light the space closest to it. the leaves create a noisy barrier obscuring everything over them. that is until you see the spacious area in between the trunks where vines hang and colorful flowers bloom by bushes. sounds of rustling create a peaceful atmosphere—contrasting the actual situation this very place is living in. every time your foot steps forward, another follows it as you peek behind you, finding the boy following your path as you follow jinsoul’s white dress that looks so bright compared to the greenery. the little branches of the bushes you have to go past tickle your legs as the opening within the biological shield seems to get wider.

then, you hear it. the rustling of the breeze dissipates as you catch more noise: voices.

behind a few glimmers between the leaves, silhouettes of structures stood out. some look sturdier than others as you see their tippy top leaning from the way the wind blows. walking closer, the silhouette becoming richer as jinsoul peels away a draping vine to let you and soobin stand inside a haven.

a large opening lets the skylight into the ground. the tall trees around create space in between to let people live. inside its area stood shelters made from wood but also tents made of cloth hanging between the sticks that made them stand. few wide areas for commune where there is a campfire placed cooking food, another is a place a tad bit wider where people are training for combat—melee and ranged—and the last one is a commune area with a makeshift table holding onto pieces of paper all with some shapes and sizes of darkness on them.

the people around you are beings you’ve only seen in a fantasy story. people with a pair of horns curling on their heads, wings of various sizes adorning their back, spikes protruding from the spine along with tails, fangs, or talons peeking out from their lips. some people are more animal-esque with a hybrid of their ears or beaks to a full-on humanoid version of said animals. a few of them have scales on their skin to full-on gills that marked their neck. some are centaurs to minotaurs. all various combinations of humanoids all being here, now looking towards you and the boy as they realized your presence.

their stares are intimidating, yet jinsoul still gestures for you to walk onto the path opening from where you stand. every time you walk, the beings closest to you stop what they’re doing and bow down in their various styles. soobin, now standing beside you, also looks around as the more of them see you, they also pause their activities to bow down. the graze of wind against your skin creates shivers as you can only give minuscule nods to them, not knowing what to do with this immense greeting that is much more than your 19 years of life have ever experienced. from the youngest to the oldest-looking one, all know what to do; like they know of your arrival.

your eyes glanced at the boy who showed a thin yet dimpled smile; the people seemed to identify what he was saying, rising from their bows to continue what they were doing as he shifted his head to catch your sight. both of you turning to stare forward as the elven girl brought you towards the place where the table stood full of blotches on top of the light-colored paper.

there in front of you stood another blonde girl with the same elven ears peeking out from between her long locks, yet her outfit was such a contrasting sight to jinsoul’s white dress. she is adorned in what looks to be heavy-looking leather armor and dark pants. her boots have long ties wrapped around both her calves with similar-looking gloves from what you notice from the side. the girl turns around with an expectant smile on her face, knowing of your presence before her.

“your majesties,” she says, your eyes focusing on her face and how she blushes on the skin beneath her eyes. yet, your vision was distracted by the sight of the black stains on the front of her outfit, adorning the armor like specks of dirt and seeping into the cloth of her gloves. the black stain you sensed is too familiar with a certain vision you got at the station.

“your majesties. this is lip,” jinsoul introduces, “one of the three keepers of the throne. she works in the defense and security of viliya and our general in the current war efforts.”

“pleasure to meet you.” lip replies, her laid-back response showing the presence she exudes alongside her clothing style. giving a small smile, you instead glance towards the table she is standing beside. from this closer angle, you can make out a much more prominent shape of these blotches of darkness.

they scan for familiarity with things you’ve seen in your life before. these blotches could look like a regular being with its own variations like the ones you see the citizens of this island have. some look much more wildlife-like with numerous bird and dragon shapes. but there is one—well, two—paper that caught your attention.

on the edge of the table where one of lip’s soldiers is working, coloring another of these beings with the dark pigment, lays two pieces of paper that are put next to each other. connecting it is a drawing of a tall humanoid presence. it has a hunched upper back and a thin neck area where its head looks like it is draping with long hair. two uncolored areas on its head make them look like a pair of eyes.

observing it makes your pulse quicker.

you could see the dark room enveloping you in an instant, sitting with your knees folded upright and tucked towards your chest, eyes staring at the other side of the hallway where you find a slither of light spilling out from behind a room, the noise of haunting scream echos even out of the layer of the wall. there the dark humanoid stood, its white eyes piercing into your young self. the memories flicker quick of the many times you’ve seen this being. as a taller shadow standing behind you, through the even little reflective item that you see yourself from, and it stands in your peripheral vision. it stops flickering as you find yourself in the same position, much older yet still a young girl. now, the being is joined by silhouettes as dark as it slumps on the hallway’s floor. the only breathing sound you hear is yours.

you must’ve turned your head so quick as you found the boy stood beside you with his eyebrows scrunched as he looks at the caricature. his eyes moving rapidly before staying a few seconds on one specific of paper before moving away, letting you observe in the same way as you can identify the same circles in various sizes, shaping these blotches with eyes: making them much more alive.

his breath hitches before you feel lip’s hand on your shoulder, giving a light massage as she is the one that has been observing both of you. and both of you react the same way as she settles in the space between the two of you. that’s when you see the familiar purple music note floating upwards with a voice muffled. turning your head, you watch as lip picks up the speaking stone once again as you can finally catch onto the sound from the other side as the music note continues.

“the palace is all clear. we can bring the refugees into its complex.” the voice spoke, recognizing it as someone who seems young and cheerful.

“will do. thank you, choerry. the majesties are also here with us,” blue music note flowing out as it echoes jinsoul’s voice who is standing nearby.

“welcome back, your majesties!” you can imagine how the owner of the voice—choerry as jinsoul calls her—lifts both corners of her lips as she speaks. then you hear the rummage from the other side before continuous apologies are uttered as choerry seems to tell more people about yours and his arrival in this very place. lip chuckles as she tucks the stone before separating both of your spaces.

“well, we have to tell the people that they can refuge at the palace grounds. your palace grounds,” she said before giving a tight-lip smile. you know what she is implying as you nod your head whilst soobin becomes your voice.

“they can definitely refuge there,” he spoke the words that are also formed in your mind.

“thank you, your majesties.” lip does her bow before approaching other people, sharing the news as you watch it being spread. a smile unconsciously growing when you sense how dry your lips seem to be. but seeing your people all motivated to move to a place more comfortable makes you want to be there with them. at least help them pack up their belongings before moving away.

“i believe you should rest for a bit while we pack up to move.” jinsoul answers your predicament in an instant, reading through your facial expression that is portraying such complex thoughts and emotions. yours and soobin’s who stood ajar from you. “especially with what happened and the information that we give you about all of this. here...”

jinsoul held both of your hands in hers respectively as she brought you to a fallen log, jutting with her chin to it as you sat down on it—the boy does the same. the girl goes to the box beside the fallen log as she grabs something from inside it; a refracted surface holding tight in her palm before she stands in front of you both. opening it, two water orbs rest as they move slightly along with her hand that is balancing both of them.

“take a bit of the water orb and it will hydrate you like regular drinking water.”

the boy reaches first, his hand much larger than jinsoul’s as he gently pinched the orb in between his thumb and forefinger. cupping your hand, jinsoul puts the other one on your palm as she turns away, letting you watch her doing the work that you want to do before she tells you the rest.

well, you need to rest for everything that has happened today. the class you were having, the pain you had to endure again, the tiredness of walking and standing in the train and on the platform, to this new happenstance that you found yourself in with the boy that you’ve been secretly admiring. carefully, you nibble on the orb as you feel the bitten part instantly dissolve into water as it travels down your esophagus, wetting your throat that you didn’t realize was also dried up. you tuck on your uniform skirt so it can rest comfortably on your lap, your shoulder feeling much lighter as your backpack rests on the rest of the log you are sitting on.

you let your eyes peek from the corner, seeing the boy has also taken a bite into a water orb as he watches the things happening around the two of you. from a third-person perspective, you and he are just two teens resting beside each other. but from their perspective, you and he are the queen and king that they’ve been believing in who has come back.

blinking away the feeling, you finish the water orb as you lick your bottom lip to heal it from the dryness. the serenity of the lush forest contrasts against the view of tents being torn down and objects being moved, leaving only the sturdy structure behind as people are moving away from the beach you find yourself at.

“we haven’t introduced ourselves.” you caught someone’s voice beside yours, pivoting to find the boy’s cream-colored vest before your eyes lifted from the ground to see his face.

his black hair was in array as the white headphones still rested on his nape. you caught his eyes that is also darting right on you. tugging your arm sleeve, you give a small pouty smile as you can feel your trembling knee touching his from the nervousness. the way the sun lights him makes his skin glow, casting a shadow that makes his nose much pointier, and the gentle shade on his eyelashes. that is when you trail your sight to his cheek area when you find his blushing skin.

your hand lifts before you know it and lightly cup his warm cheek, wanting to pull away yet his head also seemed to reach instantly, cooling his cheek with your palm before you successfully tug it away to your lap.

“i’m (y/n).” you try to not make your lips quiver whilst pointing to the name tag pinned on your uniform vest. yet, you seemed to be so hyperaware as you still sensed his knee touching yours. that is when something envelops your cool hand, making you let out such a silent hiss as the boy across from you is also catching on to things that are culminating into your first true meeting with him. the boy who stood across from you in the train, only glancing at each other yet it creates such a huge emotion in yourself that you’ve never felt in a long time.

“soobin,” he replied, following you by leaning one side of his body so you could read his name clearly. his hand still gently rests on top of yours when you can sense his pulse pumping in a quick yet steady rhythm.

“metro line 7,” you mumbled and felt his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“cheongdam and ttukseom park,” he said, threatening to smile as you held it down when your mind kicked in. and as a reply, you slowly flipped your hand as his palm rested on top of yours, gently locking your finger between his as he does the same.

“do you also see them?” your eyes flick upwards to be in contact with his, “the vision when you daydream or dream at night? the vision when our train rides to the bridge when we go back home?”

“yes” you don’t hesitate to answer, nodding to emphasize it more as you lick your lips to continue, “i see you there too.”

“i also see you. there’s one with this orange light all around us, yet the view of the things surrounding us are-“

“blurry.” you complete his sentence. “blurry that it seemed to resemble a shield of some sort.”

“exactly.” soobin replied, his curled fingers curled between yours holding so tight that it made you adapt to his pulse.

“to be a, a monarch is something i didn’t expect from this.” your chuckle is echoed by his as you find a hint of dimples on his cheek as he nods. something you wish you could notice quicker if you want to stand closer in the train covered by people also on their way home after doing their activities for the day.

“yet, it all seems to be true. and they could confirm that it was us too. i’ve seen jinsoul multiple times than i’ve ever expected.” he finishes his thought and you answer by nodding. you let out your breath openly, calming your expression as your fingers twitch from the nerve of holding soobin’s hand—or him holding yours.

“i don’t see a way for us to do other than believing them. being thrust into this position...” you sigh, now realizing just how suffocating the many expectations all of this is, especially with what you have faced in life outside this. and how you can't see a way to get back home in the near future.

“i, i’ll be here with you. i know how you feel.” his voice pierces through your clouded thoughts like a beam of light. his eyes rapidly move as he takes in every information. “and i think we should ask more questions about all of this when we meet all three of the keepers or whatever they call each other.”

you gulped before a small smile quickly shows from his relaxed face while ending part of the sentence. following you, he also shows a small smile that decorates his facial features beautifully. that’s when you lifted your eyes to finally notice the dark presence behind soobin.

the very shadowy being you’ve seen drawn on the paper.

its head is at the tippy top of the body, looking like a pillar that you have to tilt your head backward so much to find its eyes. some part of the shadow that seemed to resemble a dangling set of hair also blows along even with the little breeze. unconsciously, your grip on his hand tightened and curled even further. blinking your eyes and shaking your head seemed to work as you find the shadow gone for this time—you recognize that this spiritual fellow might not leave you at all just like when you see it for the first time back when you were 6.

shaking away from the influence, you stare back at soobin, who also has his eyes looking elsewhere from you and the environment surrounding both of you. his hold competes with your grip as you recognize he might also see another shadow figure. well, the shadow that is behind you.

“hey... hey...” you speak, at least helping him to stay grounded as he blinks quickly before facing you and that’s when you felt a seemingly hard push on your shoulder, instantly relieved as he caught onto your eye contact. you could also see his eyes glistening from whatever he looked at behind you. and with that, you try to compose yourself. giving a small squeeze to the hand holding soobin’s as he follows your breathing exercise. your mind is now clear from the unnecessary information as you and soobin settle in this very part of the woods. the white noise from rustling leaves clears your mind and increases the overall ambient of what you are doing. staring at each other as you breathe in the same calming rhythm.

“your majesties...” the soft voice of jinsoul’s makes both of your heads turn, noticing that most of the people have disappeared and only staggers remain.

“we could go now. we’ll be bringing you to your home,” her soft smile assures you as you take a long breath before standing up, turning your head towards soobin as only the lingering touch of your fingertips connected you to him.

“well, shall we?” you let out a little smile, watching the way your hand sleeve slides down for a bit because of gravity, touching soobin’s hand with a little caress. and your smile widens as said hand adjusts to wrap with yours as the owner stands up. both of you now following the path heading outside of the forest that greets you and the train that you arrived from.

-

with what soobin has seen through the orange-filtered and blurry visions of the place he can’t comprehend to actually be in, he didn’t expect such familiar yet intricate shapes in such a fantastic atmosphere.

he walks upon a road made by bricks, buildings standing tall until the maximum of three floors let the wind flow in between them. their design incorporating much of the familiar architectural design that he had watched from some videos on youtube. but the blocks upon blocks full of buildings remind him more of seoul, especially where he goes to school in gangnam. blue-tinted glass walls replaced with a look that combines natural but also regality, but it also has a traditional-looking shape, especially in the usage of wood as frames and floors to the roof that are still made of tiles—unlike most of seoul’s buildings and apartments.

the path he walks on—though partially destroyed—would still be considered clean. no trash other than rock debris or the black puddles are present. the road is wide enough to carry items, as he also came across vehicles that look like carts. but its walkable paths are the main highlight as he came across dirty war-torn parks and a familiar plaza. the plaza where he sees you beside him and you both hold hands.

well, his hand is still connected to yours as you both walk, following jinsoul’s bright blonde hair. your grip with each other so tight that it makes soobin think that his other thoughts about the whole of this may be true. yet, the sight of the town on this very magical island captivated him more. and because of that, he didn’t see the very place that jinsoul is bringing him and you to.

it is evident by the presence of fences that this is supposed to be his palace. its features blend too well that it doesn’t look like what a palace would appear. yet, the existing yards were big enough to be little parks said otherwise.

stepping through the gate full of many people—some wearing outfits similar to lip and are bowing their bodies to both of you—soobin tilts his head as he gazes upon the palace jinsoul said is home for both of you. makeshift barriers created using wood panels and hay bales as the yard is filled with more of what he had seen in the forest. more humanoids with their unique features litter around the ground as they settle down and continue to... live. he heard sounds of children laughing as it sends shivers down his spine, before he felt a sudden grip on his hand, looking back at you who has turned your head to him, a small pout formed with your lips with a little tilt on your head.

“your majesties!”

both you and he face forward as a figure rushing down the steps from the palace door. she also has blonde hair, though not as light as lip and jinsoul, hers has a brunette shine through it. her outfit looks more like similar to the uniforms he and you are wearing than the dress jinsoul is wearing and the armor lip has worn. then, he sees it: the purple heterochromia eye resembling jinsoul’s blue.

the figure curtsies in front of you, her youthful aura exuding that it can make him believe if she introduces herself as younger than both of you. yet, standing beside jinsoul, he can sense the camaraderie between them and maybe also lip.

“this is choerry-“

“i am choerry.” she cuts jinsoul as she stepped forward, pushing her hand towards you who is also staring at her, making you connect your hand with the covered sleeve with hers as you shake it before she changes to soobin. his eyes were still looking at your hand a few seconds longer before her voice cut in again.

“keeper and usually taking care more on the cleaning, construction, and social side. other than these two, who are more serious.” she points her thumb towards jinsoul and also lip, who has now joined you. soobin lets out a small smile as he sees both the other keepers rolling their eyes at choerry who is cleaning her fallen hair, letting him see the distinct pointed ears of the keepers that he had counted for.

“we have cleaned your bedroom and much of the important areas inside the palace, especially with your arrival. my team and i are also planning to help clean up and prepare for the rest of the viliyans to settle here first, until much more of the town is safe from the umbraes.” choerry spoke in a lengthy speech, getting the right note and rhythm like she has prepared for this moment.

“the umbraes?” yet, you catch something that he didn’t.

“ah- yes.” choerry stopped before turning to jinsoul.

“we have to catch both of you up on the situation here in viliya. so, may we go inside to the meeting room, choerry?” the blue-eyed girl asked.

“certainly. follow me,” choerry turned her body around, and he sees jinsoul and lip following her a few steps behind. he sensed a tug on his hand as he followed your moving body up the flight of stairs to the entrance of the palace. his and yours palace as what choerry implied. the door does blend in with the other doors around, but this one is bigger in height and width.

footsteps echo as he is met with a large room that has spots of colors coming from the glass ceilings above. a long hall greets him as he looks at the end of the room and finds what looks to be two similar-looking chairs. dust and debris scatter around the room, yet it still creates a clear path towards the seats at the end of the corridor. a throne room. a throne room for him and you.

his hand felt lighter as he gazed down to find it empty, before he tilted to find you a few steps in front. your head leaning back as you gaze at the light entering from the glass ceiling, squinting your eyes because of it, yet you continue. seeing how the colors decorate your face, soobin can sense the thumping from his heart and his body getting warm.

ever since he looked across from where he stood on the very train and saw you, he had always felt the same thing. and it grows to his cheek, always getting warm as he takes slight glances at you. you with your recognizable uniform and wired earbuds, unlike his bluetooth headphones, tugging the signature black hand sleeves that cover both of your forearms. soobin always notice a tug showing up every time he stepped inside the train to find you, either when you both are departing to gangnam when his eyes are finding you as you stepped inside the train or on the way home where he had already guessed your position on the door across the set of seats from where he is standing.

he also spots that you felt the tremors that he felt every time the train moves after cheongdam station. his tall stature let him hold on to the handle dangling from the bars connected to the car’s ceiling. your eyes glance at the dots above the door, watching the red dot showing up one by one as it gets nearer and nearer to the bridge, before he peeks at the one closest to him. in that moment, soobin detected there is an electricity between you two. that even if you both only share glances, it seems like you are connected by it. and it happens so many times that when he sees your beautiful figure across from him, he can already feel his stress slipping away.

when you mentioned dreams while you figure out what jinsoul said, soobin put the pieces together for the visions he got. every keyword you spoke pulls out the specific vision of what is mentioned. ruined buildings. shadows seeping and obscured sight. but also of a blurry sight with orange ambience. the only clear thing from it is you, in a flowy white blouse, holding hands with him.

“soobin?”

he blinks his eyes as he looks forward to find you turning your body to face him, hands holding onto your school backpack that is also reflected on him. there is a set of doors opened beside the area with the chairs, where he can see the three keepers gazing at both of you. soobin shakes his head and strides towards you, making a smile lift on your face as you walk beside him towards the door where the keepers are.

soobin didn’t expect such a vast catalogue of books to decorate the walls of this room. its ceiling is high as he views the balcony where more bookshelves are before he landed on the circular table at the center of the room. some of the scribbles and black stains he saw on lip’s table are there. beside them, a stack of books and papers that is approached by jinsoul—he can already guess by the vibe that it must be hers.

two chairs are there side by side as choerry brings a moving board with what looks to be notes and lines connecting pieces of information. all are connected to a thick word, written multiple times on top of each other: umbrae.

“welcome, king soobin and queen (y/n), to viliya.” choerry started as jinsoul and lip sat down on their respective chair. putting his backpack down by his legs like in a classroom, he can feel the weight of his shoulders relax as he moves his body and sits down on the cushioned seat. you also sit on the other chair beside him, choerry’s hum can be picked up.

“let’s get to the chase then,” choerry claps her hands, but the loud ring trembles in the room that soobin can perceive the dusts falling down in front of him, making him look up to view the hole in the room's corner, letting the sun ray in brighter than even the lights coming from the windows. the three also look up, and he can hear them grimace in their own ways.

“as we can see from the destruction, we are in a war against these creatures,” choerry pointed with her finger as she highlights the name. “we call them umbraes as they are shadow creatures. from what lip and her team got from observation, umbrae stay in groups where they don’t allow any light to pass through them. some will separate and mold into various familiar and unfamiliar shapes; creating a quick lapse in judgement from people seeing them before they retreat.”

“yet, what they see differs from what others see. all three of us see different images from them, even from the same blob.” jinsoul added, a grit in her voice like she was holding back from not exploding when saying her thoughts.

“even with these lapses of judgement, not all will retreat. some will stay and stand quietly as the umbrae slithers to them and touching them, usually on their arms, before someone saves them.” lip completed the explanation.

soobin looks down at his hands that are on top of the table, rubbing them as he internalizes the information as best as he can. the blob that changes its shape according to the person who sees it. no person can see the exact same thing. the umbrae create a sudden lapse in judgement of people that make them want to retreat, even some staying because of that.

if it is like that, then why does he see the boy that has been with him since he was little here?

the boy wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. he always stays back at home—well, wherever home is for soobin now that he is always nomadic, moving to grandpa’s house. the boy was always in the hallway, looking back at him as they both held on to a bunny plushie, its appearance distracting him from the disturbing sounds coming from the living room where his mother was. her shadows tangled with other people as soobin grits his teeth, not letting the unpleasant sound of moans and groans bother him anymore. yet, it stays even until the present time.

when he found the boy showing up again in the environment so weird to what soobin used to see, his eyes wavered. your figure was straying to the tables as you observed the papers when he caught onto the familiar silhouette right across from them. and again as you and he sit together. hands holding onto each other as you give words of reassurance. he saw your eyes lifting, gazing above his head as you both compete to out-grip each other. that’s because he was also doing the same thing, gazing at the familiar shadow boy who is sitting on top of your shoulders. its arms settle lightly on your head, that you seemed to not notice, holding onto something akin to a stuffed toy just like soobin usually sees it with. when he flicks his eyes towards you, your touch overcoming his senses: the shadow disappeared instantly.

“then they affect all of us. the images.” soobin stumbles his words as they turn their head towards him. he rubs his fingers with the palms soothingly. “do you have any more information about them?”

“as of right now, this,” lip points towards the board, “is what we summarize. our people are also researching them this very instant, especially if we want to beat them.”

silence covers the room as soobin lets himself think. leadership isn’t a foreign concept to him. having been class president for most of the time, he feels familiarity with it. but the title of king itself is strange. the title itself can be derived that you are a leader so great, people respect you that way. yet, soobin never sensed that before. his mom is always before him in almost everything. her wants and needs. that makes soobin always retreat to his grandpa’s home, conversing with him even until past midnight even if the next day he still has school. the dad of his mom who seems to be the better parent out of the two, yet he still doesn’t want soobin to stay with him all the time,

“your mom is still here. she still wants you to be there.”

does she? does she even think about him that way when all soobin could see is her being tangled in various limbs of foreign men and women all the time with unknown substances entering her body? he is the one taking care of her more than what she supposed to before he travels back into the safe place that is their shared bedroom he could call his cause mom always has a rotating door system where anyone will step in.

“i would,” his thoughts were cut off as he tilted his head, looking at your beautiful side profile that is shone by the light entering the room.

“i would like to ask,” you nibble on your bottom lip, “every being here on viliya has their own abilities, like, all of you,” you extend your open palm to point towards the three blonde woman, “have your own uniqueness. yet, soobin and i,” he caught your eyes as you give a small glance at him with a small, yet nervous smile, “we are just regular human. but we are monarchs?”

all three of the elven girls all staring at each other as you and soobin watch, his eyes looking at choerry who nods her head to jinsoul before going to lip, doing the exact same thing. jinsoul’s look still seems so steady, as if she is pulling out the speech in her mind cabinet of the right words to say. as she knew she would be asked this very question.

“our kingdom of viliya has various humanoid. us with our elf ears. people with wings, horns, animal hybrids, tails, and more. these traits come to all of us, except for both of you. as far as the history of this world, both of you are the only fully human beings we have known. your ancestors are our ancestors that are still pure. even if we have different abilities with our traits, such as the ability to fly or have more strength, humans are much more capable of everything equally. strength, agility, intelligence, charisma, and wisdom.” jinsoul connects both of her hands on the table, the grip is reassuring about everything she just said. “your capability to be anything is the reason both of you are our monarchs.��

is it?

soobin never seemed to feel special as a regular human, nor even feeling special between the humans themselves. his introverted side makes him much more blend in with the walls of his class rather than with a bunch of people. his eyes gazed at the numerous people with their own stories they are living through while he stayed as a spectator. being human, for him, is painful. he hates how he can feel so much being exposed to such vile things where he has to be numb. he doesn’t even know the idea of love between humans when the only one he got exposed to explicitly is with his mother and her various paramours. being human is to acknowledge everything and nothing on the same path, focusing on a path that will just double down on survival.

being in between humanoids while you are a regular human will be weird. what is it to admire when you are alongside people more capable than you are in various ways?

the boy turned his head to glance at you once again, noticing how you remain silent yet with a bit of your eyebrows furrowed—thinking back on the words the keepers had said to your question. his glance turns down towards your hands, one of them rubbing against the sleeve that covered your forearm. your nails are picking through the woven material when he glimpses a shadowy line peeking from the top near your elbow.

being human is focusing on a path that is doubling down on survival. and that is the core of what you then say next.

“if you don’t know many things about them, maybe i can help?”

creaking chair sounds filled the room as the keepers all turned towards you, shifting their position with their colorful eyes widened.

“we can divide jobs. i’ll be outside with lip to observe the umbraes. while soobin here can help with figuring out what to fix and accommodating the refugees. he is the king.”

and you are the queen, he wanted to say. hoping that by saying that, that you’ll be by his side more. you’re an even more of a leader than he is. he doesn’t want to let you go because this is the first time he had ever stood so close to you, unlike the regular occurrences on the train.

yet, when he looks at how you’re steeling yourself; holding onto your opinion, he seemed to agree. many things have happened to him recently, and he needs a break. maybe taking on a more earth-bounding activity is much better than being on the battlefield in his state of mind.

“be careful,” he whispered out when he turned his head towards you. you mirrored him, beautiful trembling eyes staring at him as you let out a small smile. a familiar warmth enveloped his hand that comes from you once again.

“i’ll get back to you.” you brush your thumb against his hand.

still in both of your school attire with a difference of all the items inside your bag are now held by jinsoul; you let lip put things into your backpack as you tug your forearm sleeves back up as soobin watches on with the other two keepers beside him. glancing back at him before stepping out into the town, you give a small yet endearing smile towards him as he shows up with a tinge of melancholy. the rattling of the gate pushes him out of his trance from looking at your retreating figure, then looking at the other two beside him.

“can i, uh, take a short break first?”

“of course, your majesty.” jinsoul spoke as she looked at choerry, who said, “i’ll be giving you the list of things to do when you are ready.”

“thank you,” he replied, making the other two bow their head before retreating inside. soobin lets out a tremendous sigh as he glances upwards at the sky. seeing the star that this island’s planet is orbiting nearly setting, he walked towards the terrace overlooking the courtyard where the viliyans will stay until it is safe enough for some of them to go back to their homes. he pulls the straps of his backpack as he settles down on the steps leading down to the open space, the star crawling down near the line of forest beyond the space and buildings.

opening the zipper of his front pocket, he grabbed onto the two items he had that would always successfully calm him down. the familiar flicking noise enters his ear as he nears the fire towards the end of the cigarette, inhaling the first smoke to let the fire on before he lets go and the fire dies off, satiating his nicotine needs that he had since he was so young.

soobin didn’t have a perfect upbringing, you see. born without a father there, the little baby was already addicted to nicotine as his mom didn’t stop smoking during her pregnancy—having to be treated by the hospital in more weeks when he learned from his grandpa that he was the one being there while his mom got out as fast as she could after the doctor said “yes, you can go now.” even with that happening still, his mom still doesn’t want him to go back to her father and still lets him stay in the house. that’s when he first heard sounds of monsters at night when he wants to go to sleep, a loud screaming similar to his own, yet more exasperated. it haunts him all the time, and he cried himself to sleep most of the time, his mom doing something in the other room.

when he was a bit older, he noticed more and more faces entering and exiting his house. he stood there with his tiny legs as he peeks from behind the doorframe, seeing how the owner of the face he saw today has his body tangled with his mom, her face lets out a look that he had seen from books to be known as surprised with a rhythmic sound coming from them. and he heard it all the time since then, before even learning that what he is seeing is the act of sex. those glimpses of memory are stuck in his mind as he sees his mom more like that than her in clothes, and bringing him to see his grandpa. because of that, he had to bear it for himself. passing by the group of people in his “living” room to the kitchen where he could eat his dinner. learning about that in fifth grade, he didn’t think that topic was taboo, unlike the many boys around him giggling with themselves as they see an illustration of a female body. yet he understands now what he has been seeing since he was so young and what can result from that.

yet he wonders. his mom never got pregnant again.

soobin got introduced to cigarettes when he slipped out of the fifth-grade class to see a bunch of sixth graders, hiding near the back of the school. he smelled a familiar smell from home as he turned to see the older boys staring at him. expecting them to be annoyed and disgusted if soobin decides to snitch on them, one of them approaches him as he offers the burning stick.

“wanna try?”

tasting the substance for the first time was disgusting, he was coughing up the smoke alongside some phlegm that was stuck there. however, the warmth coming from it surges deep down inside, heating up his inner side that has been cold for a long time. his senses become sharper. every caress on his fingertips is something so detailed. so he started doing more. he made a deal with the older boys by doing all of their homework at that time to get one pack of cigarettes filled with 10 sticks. because of that, soobin never chain smokes. he always savoured every cigarette he had ever burned because he didn’t know when he would get another pack. that is until he decided to grab one from his mom’s drawer, and she didn’t notice it vanished.

when he ran away from home, backpack zippers jingling against each other into the setting sky. he arrived at his grandpa's house to knock on his door. 10 times knocking with no answer. getting cold, he sat down on the entrance patio looking towards the quiet street and pulled out the pack and lighter that the older boys gave him before they graduated, thanking him for the time and for helping them even with such a miniscule thing. the smoke covers the clear sky from his sight as he senses the tingling feeling on the back of his throat, a breeze touching his ankle from his middle school pants that are getting too short because of his growing body. soobin closed his eyes, letting the cigarette and nature’s smells combine for him to inhale, not noticing the sound of the rumbling old sedan parking in the car park.

opening his eyes, he sees the familiar grey-headed man from inside the driver’s seat, looking back at him as soobin immediately pulls the stick and crushes it with the sole of his shoe. but his grandpa was just sitting there, a somewhat smirk on his lips as he shook his head.

with a hot, steaming noodle in front of him replacing the cigarette’s warmth, he sat across his grandpa on the dining table who had his own bowl. soobin bit the inside of his cheek. the expectation of his grandpa being angry at him for smoking at 13 was not fulfilled as he does his usual thing when his grandson comes to visit, his eyes communicating to the younger that he seemed to understand why soobin did it in the first place. the same look on the older’s face still visible as they settle to eat dinner, and so, soobin speaks.

“could i stay with you? i don’t think i can’t live with mom anymore when she is like... that...” the boy’s voice getting quieter in the end. hesitance bubbling inside him spontaneously.

“i would like that...” the older’s gritty voice said, “but your mother will search for you and i don’t want to fight her again.”

soobin furrowed his eyebrows, putting the pin on the word “again” for him to ask next. and with that, his grandpa told him anything soobin could know at that time in straightforward words, a complete contrast with his daughter’s more long-winded words with layers of secret hidden in between their spaces. how she wanted to abort the baby, but the doctor said that it would endanger her more. how choi soobin was conceived with one of the random man his mom got it with. how she realized now she has a child. it gave her an advantage when it comes to taxes and costs. how grandpa choi—mom’s father—wanted to get his grandson under his care, yet his daughter decided to do a temper tantrum, threatening to take her own and the little baby boy’s life if her dad continued.

how his mom decided to sterilize herself, not wanting ever to get pregnant again.

the brain inside the boy goes into overdrive as he disassociates himself, staring at him outside of his body, as he thinks of the implications of what has transpired from his mom and his grandpa. his heart aches without a clear reason, the steam of the noodle broth doesn’t help in calming him down anymore, and he looks straight at his grandpa who has a steady face yet creases in between her eyebrows and the familiar shadow of the little boy standing beside his chair.

starting from that day, soobin spends his time outside of his mom’s house. not wanting to hear her moan that is crushing him more, the sight of needles left there as the living room looks more like a crack house. the sight of the different people entering his home every night after his mom finished her restaurant and bar waiting job for nearly a decade now. his head leaning against the wall on the other side of the living room, where his mom is having sex, his eyes and fists closed as he had to hold on for a bit to grab something from the fridge to snack on while he does his homework. every time he is not at school—both morning and evening, he will go home to stay at his grandpa’s house 15 minutes away from his mom’s, taking care of him with his house chores just like the older one is taking care of his grandson by providing him food. grandpa was the one that gave him his wireless headphones, noticing how his grandson likes to experiment with his collections of vinyl discs that have specks of dust on them.

since that day, he started to dream something. flickers of lush greenery standing in harmony beside buildings. silhouettes of people with horns and wings against an intricate wall. the sight of small waves grazing his feet on the sand. a reflection of seeing him older, taller, seemingly wiser in the reflection of a window overlooking such a beautiful town that is unlike the neighborhood he lives in.

grandpa’s house is the closest place for him to go to the seoul metro to school in the contrasting greater gangnam area. soobin doesn’t even want to know his mom get a connection for him to go there. a school so cold, yet he also knows that they produced outstanding students who will do various things to improve his country. if his grandpa didn’t allow him to eat his meals at his home, he would’ve ridden another seoul metro line instead of the olive green he is riding now. he won’t see the visions in the train that seemed to complete more and more of the dreams he had since he was young. he would’ve not seen you, the girl that starts to make his dream make sense when your blurry self becomes clearer.

the skin of his fingers is hotter as soobin lets out another puff of smoke, glancing down at the stick to see it nearly burning the line of the filter between his mouth and the tobacco. soobin gently throws the butt by his shoes, crushing it on the step of the stair until it is flat before he pinches it with his finger and put it on the side of the step near the bushes. he eyes the settlements that are growing as the orange sky mixed with purple as night comes. his first night here in the town he leads and called home a lifetime ago.

“your majesty?”

soobin tilts his head to see choerry looking down at his sitting figure, her eyes flickering between him and the flat cigarette butt on the edge of the step with a tight lip smile.

“some people have started to make dinner. i would like to cordially invite you to join them. you have eaten nothing since you’ve arrived, and we would wait for the queen, lip, and the others to come then.”

the mention of you makes his breath hitch, gulping the heavy smoky taste inside his mouth cavern. he glances forward once again, seeing the familiar sight of the people he saw in the forest now seemingly happier with the larger space. it much resembles more of a scene in a movie he watched, never seen it with his own eyes. soobin’s stomach suddenly grumbles, making choerry chuckle as the boy’s height standing taller when he finally stands up. using his open palm and gestures towards the courtyard for her to lead the way.

many more people bowed at him as he walked by, their various eyes full of sparkles as they took a glimpse of him. he was still in his school uniform and backpack hanging on his shoulders. soobin’s eyes go to an enormous cauldron heated by a bonfire underneath it, the bubbling boiling of what looks to be vegetable soup looks like a delight, reminding him of his grandpa’s love of stews, soups, and broths. a woman with ears and nose that look more like a doe and her fawn curling up behind her, his head on her shoulder, letting him view the approaching king makes him grin.

“look, mother! the king!” the little doe mentions as his giddiness shakes his mother’s body. with steady hands, she grabs a makeshift bowl made from coconut and pours in a ladle full of delicious soup towards soobin.

“i’ll be giving you another scoop, your majesty. it must have been a journey to finally be here,” the woman says as soobin lets out his dimple smile, earning chuckles from people around him at how sweet he looks.

“thank you. and yes, it has been a long journey,” he replies.

his figure glides towards the bigger space where people are scattered around and sitting on the grass to eat and slurp up the soup he holds in his hands. gulping down his saliva, the people he was looking at turned their heads to see their king approaching closer to the seat. jinsoul and choerry following behind him as they reached one long bench similar to those benches he sees in the cafeteria. raising his long leg up to slot on the other side of the bench, the people all were darting towards him as he settled down the bowl on the table.

pouting his lips, soobin can feel the tension growing within him, reminding him of the times he had to publicly speak in front of people for class and performing on stage for a school talent performance that every student must go through. his hands subconsciously rubbed together as he only took brief looks towards the surrounding people—identifying their uniqueness in comparison to him. yet, as the sun sets and night comes, the color also changes. the dark seems to be more purple, popping out the color from every object visible, creating a rainbow full of colors. the colors get brighter, their tints making them have a white outline, especially with white lights of the street lamps, the fires on the candles, torches, and lanterns, and also the white of his uniform buttoned-up shirt.

beautiful is the word that comes to mind when soobin sees this. it has a calming effect that helps soothe his beating heart even for just a bit. then he lets out a huge sigh and places his hands against the wooden table. turning his head to both sides to see the two keepers expecting him, pushing him to do so.

“viliyans,” the demonym seemed to flow easily out of his mouth like he had said it for a long time now. “i’m soobin or as you might know me as the king of this town.” he taps his feet on the ground.

“island town.” jinsoul added beside him.

“island town.” soobin repeats, nodding his head to thank her, “and, well, i am...” he opens his palms and points toward his body. tracing up and down his body. “i don’t look like your typical royal look right now, as i am learning as much about this, where you all have known about this for a long time. and i...” soobin pauses, yet the words itch in his mouth that he has to continue.

“i have to apologize for not being here in a long time. i know you might find me or (y/n), the queen, as these amazing people, even though i know we might not be them. both of us are high school students who are facing adulthood and we... i don’t know where to go next...”

the gaze of him is heavy as he looks in between the people sitting on the benches, the mother and son standing by the cauldron as they are also in a pause to hear him speak.

“but believe me when i say that i will try my best for these war efforts against the shadows.” soobin glances upwards with a sharp fiery look, pining it to the sight of the people. “the move from the forest to even the castle’s courtyard is revolutionary in a why that we are one step nearer to the enemi’s line. the soldiers and keepers are working to figure out how to beat the umbraes.”

soobin takes a peek down, looking at the steamy bowl of soup, before looking up, “i hope that the people of viliya will support us.” then he closed his eyes, bracing for any reaction that could come from his messy speech.

instead, he picked up multiple claps in the dark room. colors start to bloom as it looks like fireworks behind the lid of his eyes when he heard the sound of cheering, creating a cacophony of harmony. the eyelids are open slowly, the color is familiar as he saw this in a dream before. an orange-ish color of the sky with a tinge of vignette. he eyes the people one by one, trailing through the faces before grabbing his bowl. lifting it up, the people followed as they raised their own bowls or cups. the delicious smell makes soobin tilt the container against his lip, letting him swallow the food that warms his stomach. he hears the slurps coming from around him. following him.

their proof of being loyal.

soobin places the bowl down as he grabs his spoon, spinning the vegetables inside the soup to let it seep the tasty broth. his eyes looked at the other table around him. a few of the people were still queuing up to get their meal before he focused back on the gate that led outside of the castle grounds. it opens slightly, allowing a few people in to take refuge. but that’s when he saw the people near the gate move towards it, crowding it as something, some people, goes inside while holding onto each other.

that’s when he saw you, heaving lip’s body up with her arm behind your shoulders.

he stands up and gets out of the seat as fast as he could, making the people around him turn their heads to see what’s happening. the footsteps on the grassy area make him hear his crunchy footsteps. steps are also following behind him as he took a quick glance on both sides to find both choerry and jinsoul striding towards the other two. soobin notices the dark goo even on your black school uniform vest. the keepers walk faster than him, reaching you and lip as they hold on to her. lip look... empty.

numb.

stepping closer, he can finally hear you as you bowed, hands on your knees as you heaved to breathe in. he can’t help but to stand closer, now standing in front of you as he gently reaches out. he had to hold you. he had to comfort you somehow, like you do him.

yet, when you lift your upper body, leaning your head to let him see the entirety of your face, feeling your hand shaking against his, soobin finally just how glassy your eyes are. their outer corners pointing downward with your furrowed eyebrows. a look that he had worn before many times in his life.

“the umbraes... they,” you gulped, “they feed off of fear.”

-

the night breeze entered through the open window, grazing your skin. yet you stayed there, sitting and looking at the empty wall in front of you. hands gripping onto the soft sheets as you tremble.

the view of vast darkness is imprinted into your mind. remembering every step you put down as you reached the other side of town, saturated colors creeping out from a shadowy, hazy side. your fingers are digging into your palm as you stood beside lip, observing the wall of shadow as the breeze grazes your exposed legs. then, it started.

tendrils started to poke out of the shadow with dots of white on them, landing on the space in front of you as you heard footsteps from the guards that were tasked to keep you safe start to shuffle. the tendrils got cut off from the source as you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. it erects itself as you also see other blobs starting to form as well. shapeshifting into large and small beings.

one depicts a wall of waves incoming, going towards one side of the guards as you turned your head to hear the gasps. moving your body, you look at the rest of the guards getting damp by the slimy texture before surging towards the panicking soldier, cowering on the ground as little tendrils come out of the silhouette and wrap around the soldier’s arm. the horror on their face makes you shiver as you push the blob hard enough for it to scurry into the bigger shadow. the soldier’s eyes were closed as you tried to help them sit up, making the other guards help their mate as you then picked up more screams.

turning your body, you view the harrowing scenery of multiple umbraes approaching each person in different shapes and sizes. one umbrae specific to one person. you keep track of their expressions as the umbrae approaches. depicting wide eyes, flared nostrils, and a sense of flight response you are all too familiar with. a voice penetrates your thoughts as you shift your head once again to where you were standing before, seeing lip being covered by a shadowy blob on her arm as she stood her ground, yet grimacing. approaching as fast as you could, you see the shape of the umbrae as little spiders climbing around her skin.

adrenaline pushes you as you grab the weird texture and throws them on the ground near their shadowy haven. yet, this blob didn’t go back like the other ones. lip was scratching her arms so much that it turned red as you helped to hold her hands. not wanting to make it worse. yet the situation seems to be more dire than ever before. the guards were able to push back, attacking with their weapons as best as they could. but their leader stood behind you, hands gripped tightly on your arm as you turned back to face the wall of darkness, breathing quick because of your pounding heart.

then you see it, the blob transforming right before you into the shadow that haunts you. the figure standing so tall that you have to lean your head back. hair-like tendrils flowing in front of the body as you can see in between them. two white lights at the top making its appearance humanoid, yet you cannot identify what is behind the curtain. you could hear your teeth chatter as it grows bigger before you. specifically for you. yet, you can also hear lip’s whimper from behind you. such a brave girl now cowering and your brain connects the relations to all of it, as it also rattles you.

that they attack by becoming something a certain person is afraid of. that include yours.

you could recognize fear in an instant as it has been on your face in the times so hard that you become numb to it. the exact expression you’ve seen when you look into the towering mirror in your little body. splotches of colors on your arms and legs when you can hear people bickering at the back that rattles along with pots and pans, knowing that you couldn’t do anything because they don’t even think of you seriously. that is when you try to lift your head up high as you see the shadowy figure standing behind you, covering the torn wallpaper with its body, as you could feel a graze of their touch on your back.

even if the umbrae represents fear as it shows up alongside lip’s spiders—which she clarifies she was afraid of—it gives a sense of unease comfort for you. the shadow being has been there, like it is waiting for you, watching along your activities. yet, seeing it still gives a bitter taste in your mouth, especially that sting in your head as flashes of memories of the earliest time you’ve seen it show up. then, it continues as your body also stings, remembering every hit and cut you’ve gotten by the people that have semblance to you. before you see them lifeless as the shadow stood on the other side of the hallway.

you were 13. starting your middle school with a numbness to yourself as the same thing that happened in elementary also happens. one of your teachers nagging you to take your cardigan off because you have to stick to uniformity, sneakily taking it off for a quick moment before your homeroom teacher tells him that you are a sickly child and you are allowed to wear a cardigan; knowing she has done the same and found spots on your arms. your homeroom teacher introduces you to the arm sleeves, saying to you that even if you like wearing the same black cardigan all the time, using it interchangeably will be greater. and it grows until today just as your arms become longer, making you buy a bunch more of arm sleeves that you change weekly. especially when the cause of your spots is not here anymore and it has been replaced by something else, something that elevates the hurt and fear you’ve been facing when you were younger.

the black arm sleeves that cover your forearms are still there, their tightness contrasts the flowy white pajama shirt that choerry gave for you to wear. its color has a tinge of neon to it as jinsoul says about an ultraviolet aspect of the night in villiya as you could see your white school shirt glowing underneath your vest, alongside soobin’s. the moonlight cast through the open ceiling corner of the room, lighting up the space in a glow that creates a dreamy look. your eyes gaze at the spotlight, trailing to the dust floating and highlighted for you to see better.

a soft touch caresses your hand, making you turn your head to the side and take a glimpse of the boy that you’ve always seen across from you. now very close. he hugged you as your body continued to shake, his inner warmth wrapping you like a truly warm blanket, something you don’t recognise. he reaches out towards your side of the bed in the room, a request of yours so that he doesn’t have to sleep on the dusty sofa. soobin wears the same pajama set as you are. he smelled of a combination of a fresh lemon but with a tinge of smoky scent—a familiar scent you’ve heard lingering around the room where your aunt and uncle live.

his reminder makes you move as you let out a huge sigh, lifting your legs as it rests on the soft mattress before tugging them into the comforter, laying your head slowly onto the pillow before looking around the room, finding your school uniform on the sofa alongside the boy’s, creating a symmetry alongside both of your backpacks. looking at the ceiling, the bed ruffles as a tiny breeze hits your hand before being covered by the warmth of both the comforter and soobin. glancing from the corner of your eye, soobin lays down on his side, an arm of his rested in the space between you and him. his head rested on the pillow on one side as he still waits patiently after what you said during dinner. to finish all of that shenanigans before returning to the bedroom where you both can have a talk about this.

“well...” you started, shifting your head to the side to copy soobin. “i piece things up. all the umbraes- they’re...” your eyes cast downwards along the space between yours and his body, “they gather into this gigantic wall of darkness before they come out one by one. a big shape with a dot of white in them before they transformed. it’s, i recognize just by the looks on their faces they are afraid...”

“lip, who was looking so brave when we met her, becomes so... petrified.” you continue after shifting your upper body. your arm lies down underneath your body for a more comfortable position. soobin’s eyes are skittering as it moves all over the place, between your face, your hand, and more. he lets out an understanding hum, and he then questions.

“what did you see?” his eyes instantly widen as he lifts the free hand on the pillow, his facial expression changes to deny and take back what he said, but was stopped as your nearest hand reaches his, connecting your palm with each other as you can sense warmth.

“it’s okay. it is a justified question given we’re in this situation...” another sigh comes out of you after that, a slight moment that allows you to recollect your words to describe the monstrosity that haunts. “i see a figure. like a woman with long hair almost reaching the floor, hunching forward so the hair covers the front of the body. yet...”

you felt the boy’s fingers slide in between yours, giving a gentle grip that soothes you as he heard how your breathing is wavering. “yet, i can see a glimpse of its white dots resembling eyes peeking between the hair strands. but with this one, it is large. larger than i’ve ever seen before when i see on the end of the room or behind me when i look at my own reflection.”

“but you stop it. you successfully flee out of the situation...”

“yet someone got hurt. their face is trauma-inducing that i can’t even imagine feeling it myself. especially with,“ you stopped yourself before you say too much. the boy seemingly did not notice as he continues to calm you, fingers now lock with yours as he uses his thumb to rub soothing patterns on the back of your hand. “yet, i can get rid of the spiders on lip’s arm.”

“you don’t fear spiders?” he asked.

you used to. but when you lived in a house so untidy and unkempt, little critters will live with you. you used to be disgusted by the sight of a spider on the corner of the room, creating their web there to collect other insects to digest and to reproduce. yet, why should you fear spiders who are trying to live their life when you have something more to fear?

“no.” a concise answer comes from you. your eyes view soobin’s face, looking at him as he processes every information you gave in his mind. seeing the boy you had a crush on up close is different. the only smooth edges of his nose bridge when you see from afar now look so pointy and rigid. so real. the unconscious closeness both of you have with each other seems natural. no words needed as you can understand through gestures and expressions. it feels like your body is remembering something, the time when you were with him before. queen of viliya at that time. the connection feels too electric sometimes that it overwhelms you, but it is purely because you find comfort in him—other than being a fellow “normal” human like you are. the warmth you see even when glancing at him is expanding ten to a hundred-fold when you are with him right now, wrapping around your body, protecting you from danger.

the sparkle in soobin’s irises starts to grow, his eyebrows raised as he realized something. the answer and excitement uplift him as he lets out his dimples as he spoke, “if it is fear that they are searching and it is specified for each person, then we have to make the people brave.”

yet doubt comes into you, “could be. but people’s reaction to being afraid is different. i don’t think that forcing them to face tough up and face their fear is a good idea.”

“that’s one side of it, but...” he stops to collect himself, the little droop on his face from your comment is lifted once again, “what if we use something to make them brave other than making them fight their fear. we can maybe empower them by doing something else. distract them of this whole thing and let them have something worth fighting for so they dare to fight back...” soobin comes back with a tangent; pouring his thoughts out, no matter how unorganized it is. but something came into your mind as he said so.

the vision of that yellow-esque blurry background. buildings standing tall beside you as you walk around with soobin beside you, holding onto your hand. pushing yourself to remember, you could see the blurriness becoming more defined. the familiar structure erects around you as a place you’ve been before. the place you walk past to get to the castle grounds from the forest. the empty yet wide space in between the town that you walk on as you, lip, and the others are investigating the umbraes.

“have you dreamt of a vision where you are walking around this huge place where the background was yellow-ish and blurry and-“

“i was on your side? yeah, i’ve seen it too.” you chuckle as he finished your question and answered it right away. “it looks like a gathering of some sort behind that blurriness.”

“we could make that, a gathering of people just being happy and having fun to make them brave. we can do it at the plaza we walked past to go here.” you continued adding more detail of your plan based on soobin’s thought. and by the look on his face, you can see it exuding positivity.

“we definitely could. we have to lift their hopes up. i see so much of them are down and becoming desperate alongside instability,” he remarked.

“we can definitely kick their asses.” your comment makes both of you laughed, pining on top of your head to tell the keepers of your plan. a somewhat childish point of view of looking at it, you noticed. yet, it is a method that seemed so simple yet could be effective in yours as well as soobin’s minds.

the process of creating this gathering is something that the keepers didn’t account for but openly agree to. “the people have been down because of this war. i sure hope that even with the minimal resources, we can make this happen.” jinsoul, representing the rest of the keepers, as both of you give out your ideas to them. after telling them of the assumptions and deductions you and soobin have thought about together, soobin seems to be more at ease as he takes control in the “fighting against fear” aspect of this entire event. while you now work alongside choerry and a few of the viliyans who want to take part as you gaze at the plaza. rubbles and dust are still scattered everywhere as you can see a run-down version of what viliya supposed to look like. hanging signs stand out from the buildings that host them as you can identify what looks like a tram track on the street, its rails embedded within the material to create the busy atmosphere.

you don’t really care that your seemingly new clothes are grimy because of the amount of dust accumulated when you get rid of the rubble with your bare hands. the rocks and bricks you have to remove are so familiar with your touch even with the amount of people that were trying to help you. being independent is something you are used to, especially with the little to no regard to your livelihood at home. you had to manage it all by yourself because, if not, your aunt and uncle would use any valuables to enrich themselves. the brick texture reminds you of the gloomy day as you gaze down at the stone plate that engraves both of your parents’ names. your tense jaw relaxes as you stare at their name before shaping into more of the usual numb expression you have always seen if you think of them. the same numb face that rests on your face all the time since then until you either smile to yourself and for yourself, or when you encounter the boy in the metro.

a large space becomes clear as some viliyans are moving out from the courtyard after soobin gives such a motivational speech to you. his conversation with lip and jinsoul about strategies coming into play right now as he is being as transparent as possible. his honesty of his thoughts and opinions is such a breath of fresh air for you to take in. your hand slowly reaching for his, reassuring him of his speech but also reassuring yourself from what you are feeling, an overwhelming sense of authenticity coming from a background where the people all around you are manipulators in one way or another.

you stare at yourself in the shattered mirror of the room in the castle as you wear a white flared dress that feels too unfamiliar for you. the light from outside coming in lights up the room as you have your hands in front of you, rubbing against each other as you can’t help but to compare yourself to the keepers, especially jinsoul and choerry in their own white dresses. realising just how plain you are. nothing special. you gaze at the black arm sleeves remaining of your original outfit, resting nicely on your skin. lip actually made a custom white arm sleeves that coordinate with your dress. yet, because of its thin material, you cannot wear it as you could see the skin layer beneath it, even if it is pretty obscured. it is the part of you that you are not ready for the world to see, keeping it hidden for nearly 4 years now. maybe that black arm sleeves could be the thing that made you stand out. but why should you? you always like to support more from the back instead of being at the forefront. and with just how “normally human” you look like, you won’t be standing out at all.

subconsciously, you let your vision drop to gaze at the flowy ends of the dress moving around, biting your bottom lip as gently as possible because you didn’t want to break skin. you listen to the sounds from outside, the cheers of excitement coming from the viliyans who are ready there as means to have fun and create a synergy that could, at least, defend the people against umbraes. a shadow approaches your figure, though its color is much more faded. a genuine shadow of someone by your side.

“how are you feeling?” the soft-spoken voice calls to you as you lift your head to glance back in the mirror, finding soobin in a flowy white dress shirt with brown pants. his head tilts so you can see him peeking from behind you. a dimple shows on his cheek as he looks at you, reading you like a book that you can’t push yourself to move away.

“i,” you instantly give up, returning to gaze at the lower part of your body reflected in the mirror. both of your hands are rubbing against each other, and soobin looks at the same reflection. you watch as his hand moves to the front of your figure, soothing down the skin as he grazes the texture of your black arm sleeve, noticing just how thick it feels with the material. thinking about it again, you should’ve actually pushed yourself to put the white arm sleeve on instead. it will be much more cohesive with the rest of your outfit and it will look better with soobin’s too. maybe, you can finally let that patch of skin you covered breathe once again-

“you don’t need to.”

in the reflection, soobin’s hand rested on top of yours that is reaching for the end of the arm sleeve from the inside of your elbow. his fingers intermingled with yours that made you loosen the grip of the material. tilting back, you found soobin’s head resting beside yours on your shoulder. his chin so close to resting on top of the boney foundation of your collar as you caught his eyes, looking downwards at the arms before back to your face.

“you don’t need to remove them. whatever makes you more comfortable.” his reassuring tone lets you let out such a shaky exhale.

“but it wouldn’t match-“

“and so what? it doesn’t have to be matching.” soobin remarked, “everything will be okay, even if you don’t wear matching arm sleeves. the people will still love you. i’ll-“ he paused himself as he then rested his body against you. his body temperature feeling more like a blanket that envelops you. “i’ll still be beside you.”

you nodded your head. your face hardens as it takes shape from your frowning expression. taking a deep breath, you stare back at soobin with a much straighter posture. his hand resting on top of yours on your abdomen. your heartbeat pumping more than ever.

“we have to be brave for them.” your turn to speak as soobin caress gives you the silent agreement.

“they will be.” the boy straightens his body as he allows you to turn around inside his embrace. your arms instantly wrapping around his body as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“thank you.” your muffled voice calls to him as you felt him caressing the back of your body. knocks suddenly come from the door as you pull away.

“are you both ready, your majesties?” you heard the familiar sound of choerry before you looked into soobin’s eyes. his head nods as he signals for you to move first.

the sky is beautiful when you step outside of the palace. the clear blue space has little shades of orange as the sun is setting down as you walk. by the gate, you notice both lip and jinsoul waiting for your arrival. lip still has her outfit together, but with an extra set of a thick vest on her chest. her hands holding onto her speaking stone as she talks to her underlings in the defense force. yet, you still can’t get rid of the petrified expression she has when you get rid of the shadow spider on her arm. as you walk nearer to them, you nod your heads to greet them as soobin stood beside you. your hands are brushing against each other, with jinsoul looking between the two of you.

“doesn’t she look beautiful?” choerry commented, wrapping her arm behind your shoulder, making you appear like friends. you could feel your heart flutter because of it. because you don’t have someone who you can call your friend to do these types of things back in seoul.

“she does.” jinsoul replied, her eyes not looking at your bashful face but at the person beside you, observing him as he stares at you as well.

“well, we don’t want the people to wait. come...” jinsoul gestures with her hand as you all walk past the gate of the castle on the way to the plaza. you had seen little of what the plaza has become, only trusting in choerry’s giddiness to decorate for this impromptu festival. you had watched as she and a few others were bringing out boxes of multiple decorations out of a room in the castle. some looking more botanic than the others. you had only seen blurry images of these decorations from your vision and you can’t wait to see them with your eyes.

approaching the plaza, you could hear the rush and sound of people talking, enjoying this little festival you made in order to entertain them in the danger, to reassure them that happiness can actually battle against the umbrae’s personification of fear. to know that there is a collective who will face all of this war together.

from the nearest crowd of the plaza area, where buildings that host shops and homes were partially destroyed by the war, they all bowed as you walked past. they create a wave as you continue to walk; the sight choking you up as you turn your head to look at soobin, who is also seeing around. the amount of people with their uniqueness, all bowing their heads for both of you. your heartbeat fastens as you capture his hand with yours, feeling his fingers already move to then curl in between yours.

in the middle of the plaza is a destroyed fountain, rubble of its structure pooling in there instead of water. all three of the keepers set aside as you find a little stage beside it, bowing their heads as you both step onto the stage. the crowd that bowed first have gathered closer to the fountain as you stood behind soobin, hands still connected.

“citizen of viliya.” soobin started, your eyes gleaming with adoration as you could see the little rise on the corner of his lips.

“we welcome you to the plaza where we gather to celebrate and entertain ourselves even during the war we are facing. we would like to express our gratitude to the people who contributed to this. the cooking, the games, the music. i know this time is hard for all of us and we aren’t able to fully prepare for this to the fullest. but it is enough for me, and i hope it still will do its job.” soobin spoke like a true king, then turns his head to face you.

“this gathering will not happen without the queen’s idea. so, i would like to invite her to take center stage." he tugs your hand to make you take a few steps to stand beside him. your eyes are fleeting around the crowd as you observe the many variations of people you’ve ever seen.

“uh,” you gulp your saliva, “hello everyone. well, soobin and i got the idea for this gathering after the attack that we had endured a few days ago. i was also scouting with them as we approach the barrier between us and the shadows.” your eyes blink, head lifting to stand tall and straight.

“what i observed is traumatizing to the people who experience and also see it. it’s such a familiar notion soobin and i know about. i conclude that these shadows feed off of our fear. they get stronger when we fear them.” you spoke like how you converse with yourself in your head, calculated and clearly. eyeing the viliyans as much more like-minded people rather than recognizing the position you are in.

“this is the reason we want to gather all of us here. i recognized that you cannot face fear alone and we want to tell the umbraes that we are not alone. we are here together, full of love and care, encouraging us to face each other’s fear and any fears that can tear all of us apart. families, friendships, any types of relationships.” you felt a tug on your hand from soobin’s reassuring grip. his eyes finding yours glowing with a warm smile on his face.

“let’s all have fun and make the umbraes fear us instead. thank you.”

the crowd cheers as you find soobin also lets out a wide grin, bringing you into his grasp as you let out a chuckle full of various emotions. turning your head, you listen as the music continues on. both of you jump down off the stage as you widen your arms wide, taking in the unfamiliar feeling of gratitude and joyfulness that you are scared you might be addicted to. the ends of your dress floating as you playfully twirl with them, letting go just for this moment of the baggage that weighs you down.

your hand grasps inside of soobin’s as he takes you to the area where you can see pots of cooking are standing upright. his eloquent request contrasts the timid soobin you know, creating a much more complete idea of the boy in your head. he hands you the bowl as you say “thank you” and bow your head. the sky is getting much more orange as you both find a seat with a bunch of tweens that looked star-struck when they see you. all of them with their own uniqueness, from deer horns to fluffy bird-like wings.

“you are so cool, your majesties.” one of them says as you sit across from soobin. you share their enthusiasm for the world; how one of them is interested in the pattern of stars shining in the raven sky. soobin and you are not that far in a gap with them in level of maturity, just two teenagers who find themselves on a magic island that can be a playground for both of you if you were just a tad bit younger.

at the end of the row of tables, you see people gathering around before they form into the dance floor. your eyes resting on them as you watch them moving around, even in the most mundane fashion. small taps against your shoulder make you shift your body to meet soobin’s outstretched hand. his chin subtly pointing to the dancing crowd as your smile grew, and you went with him, waving goodbye at the tweens as you looked between your beautiful surroundings and the boy before you.

the music is loud as you see a group of bards playing their instruments in sync, watching the people as they dance the living daylights out in their own fashions. seeing a little space in the crowd, you could hear them cheer as soobin pulled you in. he starts to move his head and arms, wiggling to the beat and melody as it makes you giggle. his movement goes in a pattern that you could mirror and you did, mirroring his movement in front of you and following his lead. your eyes continue to stare at him as he does to you. smiles etched on both of your faces as you can’t help but move forward and hug him tight. his breath brushes against the crook of your neck, resting it behind you as you sway along with the music.

your eyes looked at the orange sky, admiring the atmosphere that is much better than your vision. and yet, you still have doubt inside of you. and when the sky suddenly darkens into a red hue, you know your hunch was correct.

a large silhouette flies and covers the sky, its long body with wide head and expansive middle area, flying along the sky before the once cheer silent and turns into screams. the orange that you see is no longer the sky, but the ball of fire that is going to hit you.

the very vision that you’ve just seen when you waited for your train to arrive

you pushed soobin away, separating you both as he stumbled to the ground and the fire landed where you both were dancing. he is heaving to breathe, pushing himself up off the ground as he looks across the fire to find you. but when he caught onto the numerous people who needed immediate help, he instantly moved to help them to safety by the buildings. soobin looked up to find the shadowy dragon continued to rage the fire against the plaza, destroying more of them as he could also see blobs of shadow slithering on the ground before forming into various things before people. haunting screams bringing him to his own baggage once again. and it reminds him of the sleep talk you say the night before the gathering.

“please don’t burn them. don’t burn viliya again.”

when he looks at you from the reflection of the mirror, he knew you were not in the best mood to face this whole thing. so that’s why he had to get rid of his usual fears and be as nonchalant and confident as ever. the conversation he had with the viliyans makes him see them more as family rather than subjects and that’s how they want to serve them as their king. he had to be your anchor, and he has been so throughout today until this very moment.

the usual anxiety riddles him as he watches more people either run away from the shadows or being taken by them. his feet already move him to a clearing as he watches everything going into shambles. one last turn and his eyes landed on the familiar shadow of the boy—its white eyes staring at him as his heart beats faster. but his mind nudges to somewhere else in the palace of his mind as another fireball flew above him and the one side of the fire dissipates, letting him see someone in a white dress kneeling, cowering their body, and covering their head under the red sky.

“(Y/N)!” soobin yells to you as he surges forward. his eyes landed on your cowering body as he pushed himself to move faster. however, the shadows were faster as they reached you and formed into a humanoid. a flick of its fingers shows a burning fire as it toys with you, pushing the fire closer to your covered face. that’s before soobin catches its attention with a push and a strong snarl, observing it explodes into drops of goo as he reaches for you.

your head slightly lifted when you looked at your hand to see someone grabbing for you. his soothing touch is something you can recognize as you found soobin with the front side of his shirt covered with drops of black liquid. his hand curls around you as you let him pull you up.

soobin rested his arm behind you, dragging you away from the crowd as you stay close to him, feeling your hot tears free falling against him as he has to bring you to safety, because he fears for you being hurt.

-

the blurriness of your vision slowly dissipates as the overwhelming orange shine piercing your sight is now out of sight. your feet are dragging across the ground. one of your arms is around the body of the familiar boy as he half-carried you back towards the palace. your hooded eyelids are lifted open as you meet several silhouettes protecting themselves, commotion everywhere and even out of your sight as your body continues to move along with the boy’s stride. the imposing gate meets you as he pushes open the gate and brings you towards the foyer and into the palace.

and when you stepped into the closed area of the palace, you could already feel the tears brimming by the corner of your eyes before they fell into freefall.

the thought in your head already won the battle: you caused this.

“i’m sor-sorry,” you mumbled, making soobin turn his head to look at you. the cloudiness in your eyes is now gone as it is replaced with such gigantic eyes instead. but you’ve spoken sorry too many times for his liking. his sight is set on the shared bedroom you sleep in starting from a few days ago. letting the constant murmur of sorry flies back passes him as you walk past the vacant throne room.

when you felt a soft material behind your knees, you rubbed it with your hand before you sat down and looked upon your quivering arms resting on your lap. the black sleeves threatening to fall down as soobin now stands beside you. then, the familiar itchiness starts once again. your thumb pushes against one side of your hand, trailing it down one by one, following the trail of itchiness beneath the dark material as a few firm pushes against them help in remedying the pain. a remedy you always do time and time again.

but now it doesn’t stop. the itchiness doesn’t stop, and you continue mumbling apologies with a few gasps of breath.

the edge of your nails rubbing against the sleeves instead of pressing it, putting more and more pressure as the nails hooked into the grooves in between the woven material. your sight becoming more and more blurry as you can’t stop. if you stop, it will hurt more. the sight of something you don’t want people to think about.

and yet, you could see the face of the boy kneeling down beside your legs. his hand putting a stop to yours, widening the space in between each finger. apologies are still mutter out of you as you blink the tears away, looking down on your lap. that is when you felt your lips pause as a warm touch lands softly on your cheek. eyebrows furrowed and raised when you look towards soobin and his outstretched arm.

his eyes darting all across your figure, the other hand now holds onto your hand as he could see how rough it looks from the scratching.

“i’m sorry…” you say one last time, recollecting the numerous happenings all around you, “it’s all my fault-“

“hey, hey, no. (y/n).” soobin’s voice calms you, holding onto your hand and yet, you still shake your head.

“yeah, it is. we were supposed to be brave for them. but i screw up. i let my fear get to me and it became a disaster.” your hands try to pull away from his grasp. the itchiness from your forearms slowly turning hot. just a look at the top of the sleeves lets you see the sliver of the thing that is hiding.

but, you knew deep down and how soobin is looking at you with care. that even though it was wrong, doubt is a normal thing.

“then, the only thing to overcome that fear is to face it,” you answered yourself loudly as the boy looks at how your expression changes along with how you think. his hand still holds onto your own softly as he sits down beside you. the outfit that he is wearing makes him look bare, especially with him voicing out his worries about the plan the night before. how he had put much of his fear and hope on his sleeves, and yet you failed him.

your hand gently moves instead of the shakiness soobin stopped, letting him pull off his hand as carefully as possible. the fingertips reach one end of the black that is nearly exposed. you looked down at it and took a deep breath. in one sweep, you peel away the black sleeves that have been part of your day-to-day life—soobin’s gasp is enough of a reaction you have expected.

fluttering open the lid of your eyes, you peer at the gnashing straight line scars across your forearm. the memories of the bleeding cutter coming back to you as you look at the multiple lines. the healing skin makes the scar much more visible to your skin tone. your hand doesn’t stop, reaching for the other black sleeve as the skin mirrors the other side. you clenched your hands, seeing the muscles on your wrists react as you can see the crimson liquid trailing down until the end of your fingertip. that is before your aunt found you and stopped it—not wanting to let her anchor go.

all you wanted to do was to join your parents. your forsaken parents that left you behind with more scars than these. but the only thing they left behind is the looming shadow that stood at the end of the hallway and behind you everywhere you go.

“these are my attempts.” you push yourself to speak, facing those very memories you wanted to suppress hiding behind the black sleeves. you return to your child self as you look forward to the shadow across the hallway standing tall, facing you who is sitting with your knees close to your chest.

“my parents were not the best. they, they-“ furrowing your eyebrows, the slice of the memories of yourself hitting the ground flickers by the second, “they hit me. hard. i was still a child then and... they, they’ve done it multiple times and i lost count of it.”

“it was hard living in this household. we...” shaking your head, pushing yourself to not defend them like you always do, “they don’t live in the best conditions. shards of glass all around the floor from thrown bottles. screaming matches that lasted all night long. i- i don’t know if they even love each other to stay married until the end when they...”

your breath heaved, eyes still staring down at the scars when you felt a warm touch from beside you. his hand covers one forearm, making you tilt your head as you find soobin’s sparkling eyes staring back at you. his matching furrowed brows contorting his face that exactly show what emotion he is feeling. nodding your head, you let the words on the tip of your tongue.

“after school, i was probably 13. i found them in the hallway, laid there in a pool of their blood. each with a shard of glass in their hand. the house was dark when i entered, yet the sunlight from the living room shines perfectly on their laid bodies. even at that young age, i knew it would happen someday. but not that day.” you flutter your eyes as the images came again, “i just found out that i got into the middle school i wanted. that they wanted to. and i found them lifeless instead, when all i wanted was to give them the envelope showing that i got accepted. so i cried and cried and i only called 119 a few hours later.”

you can’t help but to let out a chuckle. one way for you to cope against these experiences as you reimagined them by looking at the bird's-eye view—taking everything into account. “being a middle schooler, i have to have a guardian who will be there until i’m old enough to inherit their wealth. in comes my aunt and her dead-beat husband, and they start to chew away all of that wealth, leaving me with scrapes that is enough for me to fulfill my primary and secondary needs, but no more. it doesn’t get better at school too when they see vulnerable me as an easy target to be mugged off. so i started cutting myself.”

your free hand moves as you fold your fingers, except your pointer and middle fingers. resembling a cutter, you put it down beside soobin’s hand, doing a slicing motion. “it started with that. a pressure from two fingers. mimicking what it feels like. then when i started high school, i started using a cutter. just a top layer of skin enough to make it hurt. not as hurtful as what i genuinely feel the whole time. but i add more and more pressure until one day, it got deep and broke a blood vessel.”

“in my mind, this is it. this is the moment that i can go meet my parents and berate them for leaving me behind to bear their weight. but my aunt found me, and she stopped it just so that she can still get the cut from the will because it said that if anything happens to me, all the wealth will go to charity instead. and she was having the time of her life mugging me back home, too. so i hide them behind the black forearm sleeves. her eyes were always on me and seeing that sleeve is an assuring thing for her that i will continue my life until high school ends.” your words end with a clear quiver.

“even with all this time, i still love my parents for them being my parents. and i feel lost without them around. my perception of love is so messed up that it is hard for me to let go and know that they are truly gone until their funeral. and now, i don’t know how to truly love something.”

you duck your head and cover your forehead with your free hand, sensing just how hot it has become from you talking as you felt the touch on your other arm creeps up and envelops your palm—curling your fingers with his. bare yourself out for him to see. the true you.

the boy turns away as he grabs something from his backpack, his heavy footsteps ring against the room as he walks back to the bed. a familiarly branded cigarette box in hand alongside a lighter. his nimble fingers reach to take out one of the sticks and quickly place it between his lips as he lights it up with fire. a light grey smoke coming from it as he takes an inhale and blows it out. the familiar scent you have smelled on his body, even last night before you slept.

“sorry for surprising you like that. i-“

“it’s okay,” you cut him off, “whatever makes you comfortable.”

soobin lets out a light scoff as you see him moving his tongue across his teeth, tasting the flavor that sticks to the bone before it’s his turn to talk.

“well, i also have a not-so-great upbringing,” he started as you put your full attention to him. the itchiness of your scars is being soothed down by the gentle breeze. “the best way i say of my existence is that i am a mistake. my mom doesn’t want me at all. she’s a single mom and i am made from one of her sexual escapades. she was still smoking when she was growing me, and so, i was born addicted to nicotine. and, that’s why...” he nudges the burning cigarette between his fingers before taking a puff.

“i feel like she hates me all throughout her life. i still don’t know why she birthed me, even when she has the connection to do an abortion, but maybe she made sure she birthed me to remind her of that mistake she made. well, you see...” he leans down, eyeing the cigarette before looking back at you. “she’s a nymphomaniac. i was exposed to that side of her when i was two. just think of a small boy walking around the house after gaining the ability to walk, to then go into the living room to find your mother riding someone’s cock.”

his vulgar words took you aback, but you could feel the raging flame inside of him, similar to the fire burning through that cigarette. “but it doesn’t stop. it continues. one moment, she took care of me by bringing me snacks to eat inside the bedroom. and next, her moans vibrate all across the house. it doesn’t stop. she prefers men, but sometimes women are there as well. it’s an everyday sex party at the house and she even hosted an orgy one time. 20-something people having sex in the living room, and i was in the bedroom, closing my ears as i continue to watch crayon shinchan.” soobin flicks the cigarette away before stomping it beneath his sneakers.

“her dad—my grandpa—sometimes had to take care of me when she hosted a large-scale sex party with alcohol and drugs after the first one. i learned a lot from him, mostly about things in life that my mom doesn’t even care to think to teach me. i wanted to live with him so much, to ask him why he doesn’t act when it comes to her daughter and why she is never pregnant. so, i was in middle school when he gave me the letter from a clinic, a written evidence of my mom’s tubal ligation. sterilizing herself so she would never get pregnant again.” his head turns to you to read your expression, seeing just how wet it is. “when i told my mom i want to live with grandpa, she doesn’t allow it, along with her many reasons like tax cut. but i know she is doing that to torture me, just like having me for her is the consequence of her nymphomaniac lifestyle.”

his hand reaches back for yours, returning to the previous position with his fingers locking with yours, “my only perception of love is the care my grandpa has for me. his willingness to introduce the world he knows, and he has to learn to know for me. but i don’t have an idea of romantic love especially with my perception of lovemaking, which is all gone when you have a mom who is just seeking sex and not romantic love. maybe only a glimpse of it from the episodes grandpa said about grandma, but that is it.”

your eyes lock with his, trailing down his face until you read his moving lips. “until i see you across from me on the train.”

“why me?” you looked down at your connected hands.

“you always caught my eye. the black sleeves on your arms. how you are always there right across from me when i go back into train after school like the way you always see me at the same time every time we go to school.” soobin had to turn down a smile, calming himself down. “you with your uniform and wired earphones compare to me. it’s like seeing your own reflection that has its uniqueness. i just... know that i will connect with you and i love you for that.”

“i- wow...” you lightly exclaimed. “the thing is...” scooting closer to him, letting his knees meet with yours. “i wholeheartedly agree with the reflection thing you said. i... i don’t know. this is just based on the things, but i believe that if we talk, we will talk like we know each other for our whole life. i see myself in you. and i’m glad that we ride that same train.”

“i do too.” he raises his other hand. his eyes asking for permission as you give a small nod when you felt his warm touch now on your cheek. your head leans closer as both of your foreheads meet, closing your eyes to take in just the love that spreads between the two of you. silent. introverted. yet familiar.

that’s when you feel his thick lips against yours, making you move to adapt to it by giving little nibbles. it was innocent—expressing just enough of your emotions to not overwhelm each other. all of that and the discovery you’ve uncovered in viliya of your previous connection.

when you pull away, feeling his breath against your mouth as you rest your forehead against his once again, you then ask.

“what do you see?”

soobin’s eyes also flutter open, meeting yours as he pulls away to take a better look at you. his eyes looking away as he recollects what he had seen.

“a shadow of a boy around 5 to 7 years old. his silhouette looks like mine when i was younger, but he’s different. much more forward and active than i am and holding onto a bunny plushie,” he chuckles. “i think he encompasses my fear perfectly. being an only child of a sterilized nymphomaniac, i can’t help but to think of the numerous times that my mom’s escapades will result in another baby being made. he was one of the lost children that could be my siblings and because of that, i just... i fear in making a connection with people, especially the way my mom does. people see it as superficial, but that’s what i always see. so i don’t know which is the ‘authentic’ way for that..."

you gulp your saliva as you stare at soobin and the familiar shadow behind him. looming tall as its eyes peers down at your seated self. “mine is a tall humanoid. two white eyes covered by long trails of hair in front. it’s like its bending their neck, purposely so that anyone can see the face of the being underneath it but it steel peeks at you.” your thumb plays above his hand, “i also have a fear of connecting with people, but more in a way that... they will be ashamed of me. an orphan who cuts herself while having some attachment issue to her dead parents.”

“you don’t need to be ashamed of yourself. you’re...” he takes a slight glimpse at you from your face to your dress. “you’re pretty.”

your giggles trail towards him before you return to seriousness. “we seem to be each other’s reflections.”

“and that means that to overcome the fear, we can help each other.” soobin remarked, his dimples showing as he held a long smile.

“genuine connection...” you muttered, looking down at your connected hands before going to his plump lips you have felt on your own. soobin seemed to read your mind as he pulls you closer. the end of your dress grazes along your legs as he carefully sits you on his lap.

“the most fully genuine connection i have is with you, (y/n).” he presses his forehead back on yours. “i will be willing to face my fear for this.”

“yet, i don’t want to force you.” you shake your head, but the way his hand moves yours to his nape says otherwise. pulling you close with a tight grip on your waist.

“even so, i don’t want to do this if it is not with you,” he muttered before brushing his lips against your neck, soft caresses across your body. timidness coming along with how soft it feels, letting himself go for you to take care of him.

both of your hands slowly peel each other’s outfit, standing across from each other as you looked at soobin’s unmarked skin compared to yours, which has scars leading all the way from your childhood. yet, with the way he stood there tense, you knew he would not be the one in charge. solidifying his trust in this very connection you made. ignoring the past life you have with him. that even being across from each other on that train, you could still create a genuine connection.

soobin’s face follows your touch, staring back at you with vulnerable eyes that still reflected a dark shine. he leans down, hesitation clear but follows through with your soft grasp on him as he kisses you once again. pushing forward more and more to let you feel him more and more, and all of this has cumulated for you two. his skin is soft until the brush of your hand gives him goosebumps. soobin reach out for you, feeling the scars decorated your love handle to your hips, pressing each of them to replace the painful memories of love instead.

he is the one who drags you to the bed, moving you into a comfortable position for him because he’s the one who is more fragile in this position. looking down at his laid body on the white mattress. his cock is starting to stand straight, more color moving into his shaft as he looks at himself before your hand sitting close to his thigh. peering back to his face who looks at you with expectation, you crawl your fingers across the skin of his thigh and reach his growing member. hisses comes out from soobin’s lips when he felt your soft touch from one side before enveloping altogether. you give him a small stroke, feeling him hardened under your palm.

“you’re doing so well.” your words flow to him, now using both of your hands to stroke him as he gets harder. whines now coming out of him as he focuses back on your face. eyes looking at someone that constantly runs in his mind, who is slowly changing the perspective of action he had seen since he was a young child. his eyes focused on your furrowed brows, looking between his face and his hardening member before you decided to switch position and lean forward. the tip of the head brushes against the tip of your nose as you guide him to your lips. a searing lick makes him jump as you pull away.

“are you alright?”

“i- i am. yeah... just...” soobin looks away, not wanting to look at the concern on your face.

“we’ll go at your pace, soobin.” you sit down on your kneeling position before him, hands slowly letting go of his cock—now standing tall.

“i want to feel you. down there,” he gasps, eyes gazing back at you as you nodded. you lift your hand up to your lips as you spit on the palm, the sense of the cold liquid added to his pleasure while you stroke him in a steady rhythm. your gaze looks between his face and his member, adding more pressure with your grip that makes shivers running down his spine. then, you lean forward and he stayed still, feeling your tongue touching his head, making the shiver spread more.

it turns into warmth as you envelop the top part of his cock, your lips enclosing around it as he hears the slurping noise. his hand that was on his side reaches for you, giving your head a caress that encourages you alongside his moans. soobin’s eyelids are hooded as he stares at you, not believing the idea of such a beautiful person taking care of him—letting everything go his way. and it continues to go his way when he pushed the back of your head unconsciously, making you take him deeper in your cavern as he lets out a loud groan.

the tip of your nose brushes against his skin, taking him deep as your hand assures his when you sensed it tense as he heard you gag. pulling away from the shaft, the area around your lips are covered in your drools and saliva, a string of them hanging onto his cock as you can see just how red his tip has become. soobin’s eyes are enlarged as he admires you, wiping the saliva away with his thumb as you playfully give it a peck before it trails down to your waist.

knowing the signal, you climb up onto his lap as you press your wet lower region against him. you grind yourself on his elongated cock, feeling the ridges of his tense muscle brushing against your clitoris, making you grab his grasp once again as you make his thumb find and rub against your bundle of nerves. hisses coming from you, eyelids dropping as you feel just how good it feels. soobin continues to eye you, rubbing softly against your skin before lifting yourself up. your thighs standing straight as the boy looks at how your hand grab his shaft and rubs the tip against your opening.

“i know that this is going to hurt,” mumbling to him, “but i also want to do it with you.”

“(y/n)...” he sighs, and it slowly gets louder as he felt your warm walls wrapped around him. the boy’s hands that were by your thighs and waist reach up as you lean your head back. sensing the stretch of the muscles down there to adapt to him.

and when you lean forward again—body now sitting upright—you peer down to reassure yourself on soobin. and the sight you see makes your heart that was already beating fast even faster. diamond-like shimmer is present in his eyes, but alongside tears that added more shine. you lean your body much more forward, hands reaching to cup his face and kiss all along his visible skin. yet, you felt his hands caressing your scars instead, especially the one you left behind in your arms.

your eyes flutter shut as you give his lips a kiss that takes your breath away. pecking away from his addicting kisses as you put the rest of them along his face—the shift of your body on him creating more moans coming from the both of you. you sensed his hands moving to your behind, cupping your cheeks as you pulled away from his neck to look back at him.

“you can move.” soobin’s word gives a signal, pushing yourself until your arm is straight as you slowly move on his lap and give him a teasing bounce—something that you found on the internet as a pleasurable way to tackle your position. your hands grip onto his shoulders, eyes on his as you continue your movement. you let him roam his hands around you as you try your best to get him as deep as you can before lifting yourself so that only a sliver of his member is inside you.

soobin’s eyes lock on the way your walls envelop his hardened cock that is standing straight, caressing the skin of yours as he hold you by the waist. you alternate your motion, including some grinding as both of your moans filled the room and night. shame all come across him as he couldn’t believe he left the people of viliya go and fend for themselves. letting fear consume all of them instead of encouraging them to go on. but with a graze of your hand now resting on the pillow beside his head, he could fear the biggest fear he has dissipate away with each fluid movement and the aftermath of emotion.

genuine connection.

the boy’s hips followed your movement, following your action that even made you widen your eyes in surprise. his hands move upwards to your upper back before pulling you down, letting him give light kisses across your breasts and trails up to the column of your neck and meeting your lips as the final destination. one hand holds onto the back of your head as the other still rests above your hips, using his stamina to follow along with you. both of your eyes stay in contact, communicating like the many times you both have done so on that very train. now with much more feelings than a mere silent love.

he wraps his arms around your body when you fully lean down, head beside his. the grip of his hands loosens when he hears soft sobs coming from you, sobs that he understand so well as he also ssensed the same warmth thawing his frozen interior, breaking away the dense walls as it crumbles to allow you in. soobin reaches to cup your cheeks with trails of tears on them, a small smile adorning your face as your gaze at him expresses the very emotion he also feels for you. you both meet at the middle, enrapturing your lips with each other as you both chase your high.

“i’m going to cum.” his lips move against yours when he whispered and your head nods in reply. your walls tighten as you both continue to move. both of your moans meeting each other’s as his eyes are blown wide to see yours, who is peering at him dearly. then, he felt himself choking, his breath caught, and he spurted himself inside your walls. your little whining hum tells him you sense his release, slowing down your motion as soobin can’t help but feel the tears that are threatening to come out now in a free fall.

yet, his hips move again, making you claw your hand against his chest as he exerts to get you to your high as well. your eyes stare back at him, chin leaning against his chest so you could watch him as you chase his fluid movement. your walls clamp, holding onto him as you mentioned “i- i’m cum-“

“cum for me,” he encourages, helping more to chase you as you let out a shriek. your walls are pounding as flashes came about in your eyes and you felt yourself wetter and more aware of soobin’s release inside you. instantly, he brought your body down to his as your faces are leaning close to each other. swollen eyes, swollen lips. both are what you have as he brought you into the last searing kiss. embracing each other with a new booster of encouragement from each of you: readying yourself to face what tomorrow offers.

-

in the dawn of the next day, you both wake up with a determination you both haven’t felt before.

with each other, you both took care of your body, lathering the suds of the soap across both of your bodies as you stayed with soobin. both of your high school uniforms are the only clean outfits you both have as you pull them on. every piece from the socks to the vest. but you left your black sleeves behind drying up, sensing the cool breeze soothing it down as you embrace them as a unique part of you. soobin approaches as he lifts both of your hands, kissing the marred skin as he gazes at you, communicating without words once again as you nod.

as the sun rises across the magical island of viliya, you both emerge from the crumbling room from the palace empty of people. yet, both of your minds are onto something else. soobin pushes open the palace walls, finding many people taking cover and safety across the safe place of the palace walls. some were asleep, and some were awake with numbness in their eyes. yet they all glide to both of your figures as they all gasp.

“your majesties, are you both alright?“ choerry calls as she sees the familiar figures coming out of the palace, not tending after them when she has to take care of more people. but it stopped as she sees the rush in both of your movements, the two leaders of viliya walk to the barracks.

light exuding from them.

choerry runs to get to jinsoul as soon as she realizes it. her dirty white dress flowing as she goes past the number of viliyans all around her as she meets the blonde elven woman who is looking at the papers upon papers of letters that signify the situation of each building destroyed in viliya. her breath turning into heaves when jinsoul turns her head to look at her fellow keeper.

“what again, choerry-“

“the majesties.” she instantly cuts, “they’re glowing- they’re going to the barracks.”

“oh, oh!” jinsoul exclaims before picking up her speaking stone, telling the piece of information to the red music note replying on the other side.

“i’ll come to you. just let me get my things.” choerry looks at jinsoul who is replying to the speaking stone before they set off to the barracks. where lip is located as she just put away the speaking stone to her satchel before jinsoul’s words came true with the appearance of the two leaders coming into the area as she quickly bows down.

“your majesties, we-“

“do you still have any melee weapons?” you’re the one that asked, eyes looking towards the shelves of bows you come across.

“yes! yes, we do. right here, what do you prefer?” lip quickly accommodates the two of you as you both find the shelves full of melee weapons.

“daggers for (y/n). short sword for me,” soobin replies, recollecting the memories of what you both quietly discuss the night before.

lip grabs a short sword and its scabbard before giving it to soobin and walks to grab the daggers for you when her eyes peer down to give you the dagger by the handle. her eyes thought they were deceiving her as she didn’t see the black sleeves associated with you, but instead found scars on where the skin was covered.

“your majesty-“ she raises her head to look at you when you give her a small nod. her eyes seeing a shimmering outline coming from your body as you give her a tight lip smile. she watches as you take a glance at soobin, a small knowing nod shared between you to him as you about to turn your body away,

“your majesty!” jinsoul comes in with choerry trailing behind her, her eyes now looking at the glowing outline the two you had. connected and brighter as you stand side by side. “did you two found out how-“

“yeah, we did.” soobin answered, “i was saving (y/n) from the umbrae attack when one of them morphs in front of me. rather than think otherwise, i just hissed at it and it quickly falters. we both talked about facing our fears and about the situation when we realized that this is a now or never situation. that we have to be the one to move first so the others can get courage to fight back.”

“and we have a new determination flowing through us. that whatever happens and the experience we both have gone through, it will strengthen us rather than weakening us. it’s why we...” you paused as you peek at soobin, “decide to embrace that and face them by ourselves.”

lip steps forward and speaks, “it is only the two of you, your majesties, versus them.”

“then so be it. the umbraes are trained to find the weakest part of each person in viliya. it knows your doubts too, and soobin knows that by straight up being in front of them, confidence that it will work, it will cower away.” the steadiness in your sound shocks the keepers as soobin looks at you with pride. the keepers eyeing their leaders, the glow getting brighter than before as it inspires lip more and more. her furrowed brows loosen as you recognize the fire that is growing in her, and her realization.

“your majesty,” your head turns towards jinsoul who comes to step before you, a smile growing on her face, “your confidence will help us. your glow can help us. can you share them?” her hands reach for yours. whilst looking down, the glow on your hand travels to jinsoul as you search into her eyes and see the hope growing in them. you sense soobin standing close to you, his hand reaches for your own.

“as long as it helps the others to fight,” he answered for you and you both chuckle as you watch the grin on jinsoul’s face. choerry grabs a big glass jar as jinsoul uses her magic to transfer some of the glow into the jar until it is full. her eyes gleaming more as both you and soobin seemed to glow even more when choerry gave the jar to lip.

“jinsoul said the glow can be used to coat the swords and arrows.” choerry reiterates as lip looks down at the glow, a smile on her face.

“i will rally the people to join you along with the other keepers,” the elven girl said as you both nod, turning your head to soobin before pointing to the entrance with your chin. his grip on your hand doesn’t let go as you both fled from the barrack and towards the gate, seeing the eyes of the people watching the two of you as you jog through the gate with confidence.

each step you both take brings you to the plaza where it was attacked by the umbrae. the clean area is now filled with stains of soot and rubble from more collapsing buildings. at the end of the plaza is darkness, trails of them crawling on the ground as the sky above it is as purple as yesterday. your thumb caresses his hand as you face them, a dagger in your other hand as you stood at the being that has threatened so many people. when the doubt comes in, the shadow reacts more, slithering a tendril out to reach for both of you.

yet, you felt soobin raising his hand up to his lips and kiss the back of yours, reassuring you of his confidence as the slithering shadows stopped before them and morphed into a giant snake head. but before it finishes morphing, soobin has already let go of your hand and charged to the shadow with his sword in hand. giving the neck a slice, the snake head crumbles into smithereens and the slimy substance instantly dries out.

a grin grows on your face as you step forward beside him. your dagger swings lightly on your hand as you threw it towards the umbraes. the glow on it making it more visible as it reaches where the umbrae settles. when you first thought that it would have disappeared into the dark, it subverts your thought as you see a cut made of light and the view of the road on the other side. the umbrae reacting as its waves move to the other side and you eyed how it takes over 30 seconds for it to heal itself.

“let’s go!” you exclaimed as soobin follows beside. the slow march turns into confident steps and a charge as you approach the darkness that is getting larger and larger. the shadow reacts, shifting their presence as you watch more tendrils trailing out of the darkness. with soobin’s sword, he slices the nearest one before it shifts into the shape that it wants. your eyes glance beside you as a limping humanoid walks towards you, like the zombies you’ve watched in the movies. reaching for a dagger, you stab it through its head as it shatters and stains your uniform. your hands scrambling to get the other dagger in your hand, double-wielding it as you slice through many of the shapes of umbrae. from humanoid to animal-like to something beyond your imagination.

the smear of black goo sprites to your cheek as you felt it dripping down your face, throwing another dagger to the umbrae that was going to morph into a dragon as it bleeds black gooey substance when it slices across its throat. your eyes look around, staying alert to the nearest umbrae from you, when you heard the shout of someone calling for you.

“soobin?!” you shouted back, looking at the direction where the voice calls you to see a circle of umbraes and a sliver of soobin’s white shirt showing between the gap.

quickly, you push away the approaching umbrae as the graze of the blade is enough for it to crumble. your sight focusing on soobin’s body that is being overwhelmed by the amount surrounding him. his blade is already moving in a circle, yet the barrier is thickening, the claustrophobic situation that you count as the primary tactics of the umbrae to fight: using the most common phobias.

raising your arms up, you slice through the umbraes to create a clear path for you to soobin. cutting off one side of their image and even the middle as it fell and dirtied the ground even more. the boy’s furrowed brows were the first thing you noticed as you approached and sliced through the umbrae so close to his back as he stabbed one in front of him.

“i’m here!” he turns around as he finds you. your vision now sees clearly that he had some tears trickling down his cheek. soobin wraps his arms around you, embracing you to never let go again. seeing how this fighting affects him makes you pause your action, and you feel just how tiring it is facing them. your head instantly searched for the warmth of his shoulders as you wrapped your arms behind his back. not caring if the umbrae will reach for you and consume you whole—you can come back out from this even if you try.

but the barriers of darkness didn’t come closer. instead, it stops.

you open your eyelids to see the familiar blurriness from the many visions you have of viliya. of the old you walking around the plaza. the blurriness that makes the light slightly curved and things far away so distorted that you have to walk closer. the glow that was sticking onto the outline of your body now gone, but the blurriness has the substance of the glow, like it is expanding.

from your vision, you thought the blurriness is the uncertainty of the images you conjured.

instead, it is a shield for both soobin and you.

his sobs stop when he pulls away, finally realizing the familiar blurriness that he had also seen in his vision. he looks at you, a face full of assurance gazing back as you soothe him down with your hand by his arm. he notices that when either of you moves, some of the umbraes shatter as it still gathers to create a barrier that is being stopped by your glowing shield. you eyed him and then to the daggers in both of your hands, nodding your head as a signal for him to continue on. bringing the stained sword back beside him, you lean in and give him a peck on his lips as he answered with a small chuckle.

“CHARGE!”

a war cry sounded from outside of the barrier of umbrae as you gaze upon the large darkness. launches of arrows piercing through the darkness and chips it away. you turn your head when a gap between the barrier opens as you find lip’s determined face, double wielding rapiers in her hands as you both quickly get a grip of your weapons and continue to slice through the shadows.

as the last of it went from you both, you eyed the various citizens of viliya fighting back with their own weapons. horned people using their glow imbued blades to go through the shapes forming before them, to the winged people doing aerial attacks with their bow and arrows. a smile grows on your face as you shift to find soobin who has his own looking back at you. the two of you march as you stand beside the people, fighting away the darkness that has shrouded the island for so much time and many more that have been inside of people.

the large darkness is getting smaller and smaller, tendrils are still going out of it hastily but quickly stopped by the confidently powered viliyans. your figure approaches the source as it’s getting obliterated, chipping away by the ways it tries to fight back from the appearances of skeletons, giant spiders, and to even a mirror version of them. soobin joins you as you watched the darkness that is trying to attack you—block by your glowing shields. when it is only the last fistful of darkness there, soobin instantly stabs it with his sword, staring at it as it shifts around the blade before it drops onto the ground. your heavy breaths are the noises you heard outside of the battle, finishing outside of the barrier.

turning your body to face him, your eyes widen to see the familiar shadowy figure that haunts you behind him. and you stare at his eyes that is looking up, sensing the weight of your back as you learned of what he described of his shadow: a little boy sitting on top of your shoulders. the shadows stopped to look at you, their glowing white eyes glaring with the gaze of something that used to haunt you, but is now just a husk of fear.

dropping your dagger down beside you, you reached for soobin’s warm hands. craving his touch that comforts you through your trials and tribulations here. he doesn’t care that both of your hands are stained with the black goo, meeting his palm with yours as you finally let out the tears that you’ve been holding. and then, you suddenly cough. both of you cough as you still let your hands connect, ready to fight back against what happens to you.

you sensed something emerging from inside you as you continued to cough to let it out. your free hand in front of your lips as you spit something out. it feels heavy on your hand as you blink away the water in your eyes from the pain. the shape is jagged as you look upon a dark crystal. the core of it is a swirling raven but the outline of it is white with a glow—a wall to make the shape sturdy as ever. across from you, soobin’s hand is holding onto the same thing. the swirling substance inside looks like the one the umbrae has.

tilting your head upwards, you watched as the giant shadow behind soobin eyes the crystal in your palm. its eyes emoting for the first time—showing it getting elongated in a familiar look of joyful people as it slowly disappears. with the sound of a gasp from soobin, he finally sees the smile expression of the boy before it disappears as well, your shoulders now so light that the force of gravity tumbles you into his embrace.

the viliyans all cheer around you as you brought your arms around him, hugging him so close as you finally find the comfort of him you long to meet before finishing the war. lip and the rest of the keepers approached you. their white dresses are also stained with black substance. their eyes look at the crystals wrapped in your palm when you both pull away. that is before a white glow forms a circle behind both of you. coming from it is the familiar muffled sound of trains running on the track, people talking as they commute to their destination, and the chime of the doors.

“thank you.” jinsoul first spoke, “for coming back to us, for helping us.” you didn’t realize that there are backpack straps on them as you find yours on choerry’s back.

“it is time for you to go back to your obligations. we know it is a sudden thing for you as you both are still teenagers to face all of this.” lip added, her tight lip smile still feels so genuine as you could sense the tears brimming in your eyes. your hand is still gripping the crystal tight as you open it. soobin follows as he slowly lets the crystal in his palm slide into yours. the three keepers stand before you as well as the rest of the viliyans who looked at their leaders—courageous enough to fight at the front and motivating the rest. the boy’s hand holds onto the back of your waist.

you push your hand forward towards choerry who is looking back at you, a small pout showing on her face, “fear is always going to be here. so no need to destroy these cause fear also motivate us to continue our lives.” choerry has her palm open after you ended your words, placing it gently on it. “take good care of them. those are the fears we have to let go to continue life.”

“we sure do and...” choerry puts the crystals in her pouch before giving you your backpack. “you are always welcome to come here again. this island is yours to lead. it would be better if both of you have an input for them as well.”

“well, i trust all three of you to build viliya back. we...” soobin looks at you as you give him a small smile, “have something to do in our lives first before fully committing to viliya.”

“like graduations and all that...” you jumped in.

the three keepers look at both of you fondly as you give a smile and feel a drop of a tear falling down your cheek. lip seems to reach for her pouch and pull out the familiar pairs of black and white sleeves. “you almost forgot these,” she replies as you give a warm smile and hold the sleeves in your grasp.

with a nod, you pack your things and step closer towards the bright portal. the sight of the rest of viliyans waving their hands towards you makes you coo. even with such a short time here, many of your problems in life are solved when you just have to be brave enough to face them. and to know that there is a safe place to be uniquely you is all enough for you to have a place you can rely on. that even with no matter “normal” you are, you still have a power to change things in the world.

you turned around and faced the bright portal. looking through it, you find a vivid vision of the station where you usually wait for the seoul metro to take you home. a hand grasps into yours and the figure stood beside you, staring back at the portal as the vivid picture becomes clearer and clearer.

“will i be seeing you again?” soobin muttered as you turned your head, seeing him now looking at you.

you reach out and give him a searing kiss on his cheek, “i’m sure we will...”

both of you take a step together into the bright portal, letting the light blind and embrace you.

-

the door of the train car opens along with the familiar chime.

the passengers of seoul metro line 7 are in various outfits. from the shirts of corporate workers to the blazers of uniforms of students, the sight of elderly people who are still walking along the station to get their exercise, to the street style fashion of young adults. they decorate the sight of both the underground stations and the streets above, especially the affluent neighborhood of gangnam. it is also the sight that you see again alongside the ride from hongdae, and often see now as you tug your backpack to head back from your part-time job.

you lift your bluetooth headphones on your neck and place it on your ears, pressing play on the phone as it lets you filter out the outside sound in alongside the background music. your eyes peer up at the display now, instead of the dots have changed into screens that signals the journey along the tracks.

when the train stops at the familiar name of the station—one before cheongdam—your head already turns to the side as you watch people get in and out of the train car. your eyes searching for a specific person.

his black hair is ruffled as well as the white t-shirt he is wearing with his black tie. his hand is holding onto his phone while the other hangs on tight to his backpack. the familiar sight of him after heading back from his internship. and he turns his head to look across the set of chairs.

soobin’s eyes finding yours. and you reciprocate.

a smile adorning your face as you take a step across those seats, crossing the gap to his embrace as you head back to your home together.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @sunpov @ineedsomezzz @stayzentiny @rebsmoonn @angelbythewindow @ttyunz @bamtorin @shinrjj @kookthief

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[almond-tofuuu]

Hi I see you're opening request, so I'm here to ask for one. Thank you so much!

Plot: Zayne anger and his punishment when he find out you lied to him and get yourself in dangerous.

anon are you a mind reader?! 👀 bc I've had a draft of this sat in my wip folder for ages!!!

Hope you enjoy!! 💕

Sorry isn't enough...

Zayne x reader

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, no comfort, Zayne is mad (and possibly ooc)

Might do a part 2 (with a happy ending as an apology for this)

Zayne doesn't yell. In fact, in all the time you'd known him you couldn't remember ever seeing him lose his temper. Sure he got annoyed with you sometimes, mainly when you ignored his advice or turned up at the hospital with yet another injury, but it never boiled over into anger. He'd scold you like a child, giving the occasional icy glare, but nothing more. So when you limped into his office today, an hour late for your appointment and caked in dirt and dried blood, you were prepared to receive another lecture about safety from your primary care physician.

The minute you opened the door and took the first unsteady step into his office, you knew something was off. The air held an icy chill, causing a shiver to run down your spine, the tension increasing with every step. You could feel the pressure of Zayne's eyes on you as you approached his desk, piercing green gaze scrutinising every aspect of your appearance, taking note of every scrape and bruise, every smudge of blood that stained your skin and clothes.

"You're late." Emotionless and cold, his voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that had been present since you entered his office. Swallowing thickly, you finally meet his eyes, and immediately regret it. His expression is hard, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes which usually hold a tenderness whenever he looks at you are dark, and swirling with a storm of fury. Zayne is pissed.

Opening your mouth, the apology on the tip of your tongue quickly dies at the sound of Zayne's exasperated sigh. "If you're planning on apologising I'd suggest you save your breath. I have neither the time nor the patience to listen to whatever feeble excuses you plan on giving." His harsh tone hits you like an avalanche, burying you in the disappointment that is practically radiating from him. "I've warned you time and time again to be careful, to prioritise your safety and yet you seem determined not to listen. I've lost count of how many times you've limped into my office. You refuse to listen to my advice yet you come to me whenever your recklessness results in another injury. Tell me, do you insist on continuing this foolish behaviour until it undoubtedly causes your death?!"

A lump forms in your throat, eyes fixed on the floor as you desperately try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Every cruel word Zayne seethes is another knife to your heart, cutting deep and carving themselves into your flesh. And despite your best efforts, you can't stop the choked sob that escapes your lips. Because it hurts. Seeing the man who has always treated you so gently fuming with rage, steely glare freezing you where you stand, forcing you to endure the brunt of his anger. His words melt together, flooding your mind and making your ears ring as they echo on repeat inside your head. You're so overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his disappointment that you don't even realise you're crying until a cold hand touches your cheek, thumb wiping away a single tear. His breath fans your face as he exhales a tired sigh, "come here, let me see your wounds" his voice is softer now, having lost its previous venom but his outburst has left a sour taste in your mouth. You pull away from his touch, shaking your head slightly as you wipe away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"I can take care of it myself...I wouldn't want to inconvenience you any further." You utter, keeping your voice steady and void of emotion. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with my reckless behaviour anymore. Goodbye, Dr Zayne." Turning away from him you quickly make your way out of his office, ignoring the calls of your name, determined not to let him see you fall apart completely. With each step you can feel your heart breaking more, bleeding out and flooding your chest with every crushing word Zayne spat at you. You're not sure where you're heading, vision blurring with tears, you just know that the last place you want to be is with Zayne.

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍