#also do you know how much it breaks my heart this gorgeous art is from green lantern rebirth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taegularities · 1 year ago

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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 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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bvidzsoo · 4 months ago

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (Epilogue)

ー☆ Epilogue

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: suggestive language, cursing, smut ー☆ Word count: 8.7k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: mature ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: I chose no song for this chapter, so everyone is free to listen to whatever or not listen to anything at all, however, while doing the moodboard I was listening to Power and I actually started sobbing, so uh, you can give it a listen if you wish to! I won't yap here, so see you at the end of the chapter! <3 I hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what y'all thought of the last chapter of my beloved series. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

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⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

3 months later

Spring was finally approaching, the weather having turned less harsh and warmer in the span of a few weeks, slowly painting nature in its vibrant and gorgeous colors that I would never get enough of. And we were lucky the air was warmer now outside, because in the confines of the limited space of my little studio of my Arts Club at university—which is more of a storage room to be fair—the smell of fresh dye and incense mingled together almost in a nauseating way, leaving me no option but to crack open the small window of the studio. Well, since it was so high up, I had to ask Mingi to open it as I didn’t want to get on a chair as I would have had to walk to the front of the room, and I was too lazy to do that. Music played quietly in the corner from Mingi’s portable speaker as he hummed along the melody of the song, typing away on his phone as his shoulders were slouched over, head lowered.

My eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as I bit my tongue, making sure the dye spread out evenly at the back of Mingi’s head, not wanting to leave spots of his previously platinum blonde hair. Around a week ago, he and Seonghwa hung out under the pretense of watching movies and having a boys' night in which they would drink beer and maybe compose some music, however, the next day when Mingi came over to have lunch with my mother and me, his hair was short. The long strands that curled prettily against his nape and ears were gone, replaced by short spikey hair that stuck up against his head, giving him a punkish look. My mother had squealed when she saw him, touched his hair, and then cradled his cheeks, gushing about how handsome he was, making me glare at the two as they forgot about my existence. Instead, I went and set the table and left them to their usual gossiping, shaking my head when my mother told him all about the new hot doctor at work she had her eyes on.

At times, those two would get lost in their own world and forget about my existence, amusing me, but also prompting me to give them a side-eye. Don’t get me wrong, I was beyond the moon that my boyfriend and mother got along really well, but at times it almost felt like I didn’t even exist—and before you would be like Mingi and say that I am dramatic, the fact that my mother seemed to love Yunho just as much as Mingi, definitely sent me into an existential crisis after the first time she confessed she loved the two as if they were her own sons. And about Yunho, well, yes, we’ve worked out our differences—which involved a lot of explaining, invoking buried memories, and a lot of apologies from Yunho’s side—so now we were all a big happy family—family as in not to be misunderstood, we all loved each other and had a nice bond. To be honest, I felt no mal-intent towards Yunho when after a month of dating Mingi we finally decided to sit down and discuss everything with his best friend, and I even found myself now confiding in him and asking him for advice in areas Seulgi—and Wooyoung—couldn’t help, because, after all, Yunho knew Mingi best. And Yunho’s girlfriend was an absolute angel and sweetheart, I took a liking to her quite quickly and found her love for literature rather adorable as she’d often quote her favorite characters from her favorite books.

Mingi snickered as I playfully pushed his head forward as I was done dyeing his platinum hair to a regular, darker, blonde with pink hues in it. I tried to look over his shoulder to see what he found so amusing but he cradled his phone to his chest and made me roll my eyes as I walked to the sink to wash the small bowl and the brush I used to dye his hair. Mingi changed the music to something more upbeat and a lot noisier than the music he, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa made, and I came to realize the speaker was playing Limp Bizkit. I couldn’t say that I enjoyed their music too much, I preferred something more indie, but I still appreciated some of their songs. I turned on the faucet and started washing the brush first as Mingi approached me and leaned against the counter, lips pursed as he tried to hide his cheeky smile. I threw him a questioning look as I rinsed the bowl out, applying a little soap in it to wash out the dye completely as Mingi finally spoke up, “Check this out, ‘Your face is a work of art, my legs should frame it.’”

My eyebrows furrowed as I gave Mingi a confused look, quickly making him pout, “Oh, come on! It’s ‘art rizz’!”

I snorted as I placed the bowl and brush aside to dry, peeling the gloves off my hands carefully to not stain my clothes or skin, “You’ve had better ones Mings, besides, shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I mean,” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as he pocketed his phone in his light pink jeans, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wore a white loose sleeveless tank top today, his biceps bulged from the action and I tried not to let my eyes linger on the well-defined muscles, “I definitely like the idea you’re suggesting—”

“As if we haven’t done that already.” I interrupted with a pointed look and Mingi just rolled his eyes.

“That’s beside the point,” And then he was smirking, leaning into my space as I rinsed the soap off my hands, “wait, are you suggesting something right now?”

“I just dyed your hair, Mingi, no, I’m not suggesting anything.” I sighed, unimpressed, as I shut the faucet off and grabbed a small towel to dry my hands off in it. You see, Mingi is rather…vocal with his needs and quick in executing them, so, I cannot say we haven’t been… active, if you know what I mean.

“Pity.” Mingi pouted for a second before he moved on to the next subject, his brain sometimes moving too fast for me to be able to keep up with him, “You remember that well-dressed woman from our last gig at Outlaw?”

“I sure do, she looked rather out of place with her pencil skirt and blouse.” I hummed as I leaned my hip against the sink, facing Mingi. He grinned and then fished his phone out of his pocket again and unlocked it, clicking on something I couldn’t see. Then, he cleared his throat and raised it to a higher pitch that was definitely mocking the woman’s voice.

“Mr. Song, I am delighted to let you know that Horizon Records would love to work with Noir Zenith, and we’d like to set an appointment as soon as it fits you and your bandmates' schedule. – Hong J.” Mingi bit his bottom lip as my eyes widened, prompting me to hold onto his wrist in excitement.

“Wait,” I said, eyebrows lightly furrowing, “isn’t this that super famous and huge record everyone dreams of getting signed to?!”

And when Mingi’s smile grew into a hug grin, I felt joy and excitement fill my senses as I grabbed both of Mingi’s hands, jumping up and down as he giggled and followed along, the two of us jumping in small circles like little kids. I couldn’t believe my ears, this was even bigger than the last record they agreed to sign with for half a year—the one Hongjoong helped out with—and once their contract was over, they could sign a new one with Horizon Records.

“That’s fucking amazing, Mingi!” I exclaimed loudly as we finally stopped jumping around, my heart beating fast as Mingi nodded in excitement, his teeth visible as he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I know, Wooyoung started running laps while screaming and Seonghwa cried clinging to me for half an hour when I told them.” I chuckled at the image in my head, but quickly realized the message wasn’t fresh. Before I could go off on him for hiding something so important from me, Mingi beat me to it, a knowing glint in his eyes, “Mrs. Hong sent the text yesterday afternoon and I only didn’t tell you about it because I knew we’d meet today and I wanted to see your reaction, so, don’t be mad, please.”

And how could I be mad at him when his plump lips were jutting out and his eyebrows raised in a manner that made him look adorable and heartbreaking at the same time? I huffed and squeezed his hands before I released them, trying to play off the fact that he already knew me so well, “I wasn’t about to get mad, I’m very happy for you and the rest of the boys, my love.”

Mingi giggled and looked away, the high of his cheekbones slightly flushed, and I grinned because I could never get over the fact that calling him ‘love’ or ‘my love’ turned him into a giggling and blushing mess. It was adorable, cute, and somehow still sexy, and before I would let any stray thoughts enter my head and distract me from the plans we had, I cleared my throat, “We should eat that pizza we ordered, it’s probably already gone cold.”

Mingi hummed but didn’t speak up as I went to walk towards the white sheet we had laid on the floorboards to sit on, pizza, black nail polish, Mingi’s pink beanie, and my sketchbook scattered all over it. However, before I could take another step, my feet suddenly weren’t touching the ground anymore as I was lifted by the waist, a squeal leaving my lips as I clutched onto Mingi’s bare arms, “Mingi! Put me down!”

“No.” He giggled against my neck and I felt his warm lips press a small kiss against my nape as my hair was in a bun, then he was running towards the sheet as we both laughed, the song playing through the speaker drowned out by our loudness. He finally placed me back down on my feet when we reached the white sheet and I sat down in a crisscross position, opening the box of pizza as Mingi took his seat across me. I grinned as I grabbed a slice, my stomach growling in hunger once again, and then I took a bite of the cheesy pepperoni pizza, making Mingi chuckle as he looked less hungry and less eager to devour our lunch for today. I extended my hand for his phone and he gave it to me without a word, I typed in his password before I looked through his playlist, taking bites of my pizza in the meantime. I found a slower beat that I liked and switched the currently playing song to that and then handed his phone back after I locked it, smiling as Mingi was flipping through my newest sketchbook which had mostly drawings of him.

I didn’t expect him to flip to that particular page and I almost choked as the pizza went down a little array, making Mingi smirk as he pulled the drawing closer to himself, dark eyes inspecting his sleeping form in the drawing. Well, the drawing looked completely innocent unless you knew what happened before it, and I couldn’t help but blush harder when Mingi bit his lower lip, pizza in his hand forgotten as he traced the blanket that hung low on his naked hips, torso on display and face serene as he had been in a deep slumber. When he looked up, he didn’t look much too smug, but there was a glint in his eyes that I had become accustomed to too well. He was in awe, but he was turned on, and I couldn’t help but stuff my face more with pizza, satiating my hunger as a means of distraction from the fact that I drew Mingi post-sex not even four days ago.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a talented songwriter and composer but a good hell of a painter.” His voice was deeper as he mumbled, taking a bite of his pizza as he glanced back down at the drawing, “I want to draw you too, to capture you in all forms and commemorate you for an eternity.”

Well, what a way to make me blush harder. I grabbed another slice as I had finished the first one as a means to stall for a second, ponder over my answer, “You’re good with your words though, unlike me. I always struggle to express myself concisely, yet to you it’s easy. You create beautiful lyrics and you never fail to capture my true nature in your songs, so I think I’ll always live on in your music, Mingi, you have already commemorated me for an eternity.”

That made Mingi blink in surprise as he hadn’t even realized that before, and I smiled as he gave me a lasting look before he flipped the page, the drawing of him playing with a kitten I had found outside my porch. Now, she was our kitten and she, obviously, loved Mingi more than me—just like my mother, I didn’t try to complain about this too, “You inspire me like none other.”

“You inspire me too, Mings.” Mingi’s smile was shy as he continued flipping through the sketchbook, less filled than my other ones as I decided to dedicate this one only to him. He’d seen the older sketches plenty of times before, yet he never failed to become shy when looking through them.

I finished my slice of pizza, dusted my hands off and made sure my cheeks weren’t greasy as I leaned towards the black nail polish, shaking it in front of Mingi with a grin, “Ready to get your nails painted?”

He nodded excitedly and handed me his left hand as he still held his slice of pizza in the right one. His thick fingers were smooth and decorated with rings, much like mine, and I flipped my left hand around to place his palm in mine. After having arrived at my humble studio once we were finished with our classes for the day, Mingi got to work and painted my nails. He had bought some new nail polish a week ago and convinced me to surprise me with them, so, the nails on my left hand were now almost neon green and the nails on my right hand almost Barbie pink. Sometime along, painting each other’s nails became a habit, something we both enjoyed doing and now we could confidently call it our thing.

I concentrated hard to not smudge the skin around his nails, eyebrows furrowed and teeth clamping down on my bottom lip as Mingi’s eyes were either on me or his nails, bobbing his head along to the rhythm of the song playing. He usually chewed loudly and I was thankful he kept his mouth closed this time, knowing that it would only irritate me if he started chewing on his slice of pizza aggressively—it wouldn’t be the first time he does it just to annoy me. As I finished doing his middle finger, his phone rang and Mingi reached over to his left side as he bit on the crust of his pizza, picking his phone off the floor as the music cut off. He accepted the phone call and put it on speaker as I chuckled and watched him take out the crust from his mouth so that he could talk.

“Hey! Song Mingi!” It was unmistakably Wooyoung’s voice as he screamed into the phone, making me concerned that Mingi would lose his hearing if he had just normally picked up the phone without putting it on speaker, “What’s up, bro?!”

Mingi snickered, shaking his head as I finished painting the nails on his left hand, “I told you yesterday that I would hang out with Y/N after classes.”

“Ah, right,” Wooyoung hummed as I leaned down to press a kiss against Mingi’s hand, making him grin as he finished his slice, eagerly handing over his right hand to paint his nails, “And where are you two lovebirds?”

“In her studio,” Mingi answered as I got to work, careful as always as I painted his pinkie’s nail.

“Now that you mention, Seulgi said something about not being able to work on her assignment in the studio because of you two.”

I scoffed and before Mingi could answer, I spoke up as I leaned towards the phone, “I told Seulgi to do her assignment not two days before the deadline, and I also told her a week ago that I’d be hounding the studio with Mingi today.”

“Heard that babe?!” Wooyoung’s voice was distant just for a second, then he snickered, “She says you’re lucky she loves you, otherwise she would’ve kicked you out of your studio.”

“My own studio.” I huffed and applied another coat over Mingi’s forefinger’s nail to even out the texture, “What a bitch.”

“A bitch that is forced to listen to her best friend’s constant bitching, who’s the bitch now, Y/N?” Everyone snickered and I rolled my eyes as there was the unmistakable sound of a kiss pressed against a cheek through the phone, Mingi and I shared a look of mild disgust as I went to paint his thumb’s nail.

“Don’t start making out while you’re on the phone with me, Wooyoung.” Mingi’s voice carried disgust but there was a hint of amusement, “Anyways, what’s the purpose of your call? You never call unless you need something or I ask you to remind me of something.”

“It’s neither this time,” Seulgi chuckled through the phone, and then there was shuffling and I knew she walked away. I finished Mingi’s nails and closed the bottle of nail polish, sitting up on my knees to kiss Mingi’s cheek as he bit his lower lip, grinning at me as he wriggled his fingers happily.

“Do not be late to Aurora’s opening tonight and wear something extra fancy, Hongjoong will have our heads if we don’t honor his fiancé for God’s sake.” Wooyoung sounded mildly annoyed but it was no secret that he loved Hongjoong probably almost as much as he loved all of his friends, however, he’d never admit that to anyone. Aurora became the name of Seonghwa’s studio and small gallery, and tonight was the grand opening. Everyone was excited about it, with Seonghwa being a nerve wreck as he feared people wouldn’t show up. After having talked to both him and Hongjoong, they agreed to display a few of my paintings in the front lobby and I was giddy and curious about everyone’s reaction to them. Nobody knew what I had handed over to Seonghwa, and he had beamed when his eyes took in the paintings, he getting emotional instead of me and making me chuckle as I hugged him tightly and thanked him for the opportunity.

“You should worry about yourself, Woo,” Mingi teased with a chuckle, “Y/N and I will look impeccable, as always.”

“That is for sure,” I muttered as I sat back on my ankles, watching Mingi with a grin as we had decided to match our outfits for the night.

“Talk to you later, we’ve got some business to attend to with Y/N now.” And then Wooyoung said his goodbye and they hung up as Mingi pointed towards the pizza with a pout, “I’m still hungry, will you feed me?”

And even if I said no and rolled my eyes, five minutes later Mingi had a teasing glint in his eyes as I fed him his third slice of pizza, smart enough to remain silent or else I wouldn’t have continued feeding him or helping him drink water while his nails dried.

Barely an hour later, when Mingi’s hunger and thirst were satiated and his nails were dry, we replaced the white sheet with a huge flat canvas that we would paint over. We had agreed on painting a scenery, something similar to the creek we so much liked to visit when the weather allowed it, but sometime along my attempts at making it look like the actual creek, Mingi’s not so painter skills came into the mix and created a—whatever that did not look like the creek. He refused to admit that what was supposed to be the water now looked like the sky, making the whole painting look like it was upside down from our standpoint, and he also kept on vehemently denying that he tried to paint a dick over the trunk of the tree I spent at least fifteen minutes on to make it look as realistic as possible. All in all, I concluded that without Mingi here I would’ve been able to finish the painting in a maximum of three hours, however, now there was no future for finding a vision in whatever we have created.

But I didn’t mind, because this was Mingi’s and my work, something we created together while laughing and talking about whatever came to our minds, the atmosphere light and joyful. I had also washed out the dye from his hair and we towel-dried it, making it look spikier than usual. I couldn’t lie, this new hair made Mingi look incredibly hot, and it took me some willpower to not jump him as he looked at me with those sharp eyes and a knowing smirk, the asshole.

“But you’ll dye it back to black soon, right?” I asked while painting clouds over the once creek turned sky now. Mingi was behind me, crouched down, and his clothes still somehow miraculously not stained. I wore my old overall knowing that I’d stain myself the second I opened a can of paint, and I wasn’t wrong at all as the edges of my pants were already stained green and white.

“I mean, do you hate this color?” Mingi asked from behind me as he dipped his brush into black, terrifying me of whatever he had in mind to do with the color once I saw him.

“What the hell do you need black for?!” I exclaimed as I grabbed his wrist, making his eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“Aren’t artists supposed to just go with the flow?” His lips jutted out as he playfully leaned closer, my eyebrows furrowing as I was ready to oppose his idea, “You’re making me question your working etiquette, doll, I don’t find you creative enough—”

“As if!” I exclaimed only mildly offended as I knew Mingi was only teasing me, “Going with the flow and trusting your instincts is one thing, love, but having no vision or idea in mind is plain terrifying.”

“I was going to sign the top of it, but never mind—”

“Fine,” I groaned, gripping his wrist to stop Mingi from twisting away. His voice was whiney and he was pouting, not even looking at me as if he was offended. I knew he wasn’t; he was just acting up to get what he wanted. And unfortunately, it was working embarrassingly well on me, “Sign it.”

“Great!” He beamed as he leaned forward, mindful of staining his pink jeans with paint and I sighed as I shook my head, making curved lines before I colored them to make them look more like clouds. I had no idea what would become of the painting, but I certainly was eager to find out.

“Back to your hair,” I spoke up as Mingi carefully drew his ‘fix on’ signature onto the canvas, “I don’t hate the blonde but I miss your natural color, it suits you more, makes you look cuter and softer.”

“Aw,” Mingi turned back to give me puppy eyes—which he learned from Yunho, no doubt, “you like your boyfriend to be all soft and cute? I thought you like it when I get all wild and destroy—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Song Mingi.” I threatened as I sat back, brush pointed threateningly towards Mingi.

“Or what?” His crooked teeth showed as he grinned, quirking an eyebrow to annoy me further. I huffed and tried to think of a good comeback, but came up empty-handed for once so I gave him a pointed glare.

“I’ll stain you with paint.”

“Bet.”

And I know Mingi didn’t expect me to actually follow through with my childish threat, but as I jerked my wrist in his direction, the remaining paint from my brush flew off and, well, stained his white sleeveless tank top. Mingi’s mouth fell open as he gaped down at himself, and I laughed, giving him a smug look.

“What, did you think I was fucking around?”

“Oh, I’ll make you wish you never did that!”

And before I could prepare myself for whatever attack he had planned, he pressed his hand against his brush and coated it in black paint then sprung towards me, making me gasp as his thick fingers drew a cold line against my cheekbone. Mingi grinned as I stared at him in surprise, but I reacted soon quickly as I pressed my fingers into the fresh paint on the canvas and returned the favor, the only difference being that I drew a circle on his forehead with white paint. Mingi blinked once, then twice, and a mischievous grin spread onto his lips which told me that I was in trouble.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, but Mingi was fast as he dug his whole hand in green paint and slapped my ass painfully hard, making me cry out as it stung even through the fabric, making me give him a deadly glare, “Song Mingi! That fucking hurt!”

“You’re a pussy.” He stuck his tongue out and I tsked, leaning down to push my whole hand inside the red paint. Mingi’s eyes widened as I gave him a victorious smirk, eyes narrowing as he jumped up to his feet, holding his arms up in defeat.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start a war—” But his futile attempts at saving his ass fell on deaf ears as I cackled and took off towards him, making him yelp as he tried to duck and run away, making us run around the canvas. We were both barefoot and as Mingi tried to jump over the canvas, he miscalculated where his long legs would land and landed on his freshly painted signature, making him yelp again as it was no doubt cold against his feet. I laughed as I easily caught up with him and felt up his chest, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, your white shirt is all stained now.” I fake pouted as Mingi froze, incredulous eyes looking between me and his shirt. I chuckled and clapped my hands together, deciding that my job was done here, but then Mingi was stepping back and leaving foot marks all over the canvas on purpose. I scoffed but didn’t care much, the poor painting had been long ruined. I crossed my arms in front of my chest in defiance as he dipped both of his hands in pink paint and then gave me a grin as he beckoned me over with a finger. I huffed in disbelief as if I’d hand myself over willingly to him. And he knew that because I dipped both of my hands in light blue paint and faced him again. Our stare-off was intense and calculating as we both tried to guess the other’s next step, and thinking I’d have the upper hand, I stepped in the middle of the canvas just as Mingi moved too and I raised my hands to dirty his tank top even more when he cupped my cheeks and made me squeal.

The paint felt cold against my skin and I knew it would dry it out once it started drying itself, but I was far too amused to worry about something so insignificant right now. Wanting revenge, I grasped his hair and massaged my hands well into the freshly dyed darker blonde strands, making his hair look like cotton candy due to the pink hue mixing with the light blue of the paint.

“My hair! Y/N!” Mingi whined loudly slapping my hands away, but I wasn’t finished as I dirtied his jaw, neck, and tank top too. Mingi was pouting hard and glaring at me at the same time, already sharp eyes turning sharper and full of revenge as he flushed his body against mine and cupped my ass over the fabric, gripping tightly and kneading the flesh.

“Mingi!” I exclaimed, content with being so close to him, but also annoyed that he kept going for my ass, “Leave my ass alone, you idiot!”

“You ruined my hair!”

“I told you to dye it black and not a different shade of blonde.”

“I thought you were a firm believer in people doing whatever they want.”

“I am, but you’re my boyfriend and I find you hotter with black hair.”

“Well, you’re my girlfriend and I find you hotter with my dick down your throat.”

We both paused as my eyes widened and Mingi caught himself a second later, cheeks flushing as he looked sheepish, finally releasing my ass as his hands settled around my hips instead, “Oopsie, that went too far but it’s the truth—”

He cried out as I whacked him over the head, giving him a fierce look, “Yeah? I also find you hotter gagged around my fingers—”

“We only did that once!”

“Are you afraid it makes you less masculine?”

“I agreed to let you peg me, bro.”

“I know, bro, and you fucking enjoyed it.”

“So, what’s the issue here?”

“That you keep slapping and kneading my ass, leave it alone.”

“Okay, princess, my bad.”

“You’re the princess, Mingi, not me. You’re always whining.”

“And you’re always beating me up, Y/N.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, you are!”

I scowled at Mingi and pushed him back by the chest, by no means aggressively or harshly, but his dramatic ass pretended to stumble and then he fell back, splaying out across the canvas. I huffed and pinched the bridge off my nose as he made fake crying noises, blinking up at me slowly, “See? I’m huwt.”

I closed my eyes to compose myself and control the need to kick him in the balls for being cringy, “Don’t talk like that, oh, my God.”

“Do you hate it?” He grinned evilly as I walked off the canvas, and to look at me, he turned onto his stomach as he cupped his chin and raised his legs to swing them in the air. He looked like a mess with the paint all over his hair, face, and body, some having gotten onto his pants too now that he was laying on the canvas. I chuckled and shook my head as I eyed my boyfriend, knowing that I looked probably just as messy as him.

“I do, actually, you’re only cute when you’re not trying to be cute.” I deadpanned and Mingi huffed dramatically, letting his arms fall as he pressed his forehead against them. Eyes falling on his round ass, I knew it was my time for payback, and I moved swiftly before he could realize what I was aiming for—it wouldn’t be the first time—so I quickly kneeled next to him and leaned down, baring my teeth as I opened my mouth wide. At first, Mingi jumped when my teeth made contact with his jeans and then when I bit down hard, he yelped, soon turning into loud cries as I continued to bite his left ass cheek harder and harder. He started flailing around and I pulled back with a cackle after I made sure my teeth had sunken in deep enough. But, I had no time to react as he quickly turned around and leaped onto me, landing on top of me as I fell back onto the canvas, no doubt smudging even more whatever paint hadn’t dried yet.

Mingi got on top of me, sitting on my hips as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, pinning me to the floor. I smirked as I raised my eyebrows tauntingly at him, watching his eyes slowly rake over my body to take me in.

“That hurt.”

“Fair enough, it hurt too when you slapped my ass.”

“Well, you have no right to whine so much about it anymore.”

“I do if you keep slapping it, and I also have the right to bite your ass as revenge.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed and I giggled as he slowly leaned down, placing his hands on both sides of my head to prop himself up, effectively caging me between himself and the floor. I continued looking at him challengingly as he bit his bottom lip, eyes never settling as they searched my face for even a fraction that showed that I would back down. But I wouldn’t, and he knew that by now as he suddenly smirked too, leaning so close our lips brushed against each other.

“I think I won, doll.”

“I didn’t know we were in a contest, love.”

And then he sealed his lips against mine, shutting up the both of us in the most effective way as our lips moved slowly, savoring each other’s taste and lips. Mingi shifted above me and I eagerly opened my legs to let him settle between them as I hugged his torso, hands raking up and down his back slowly as his hips pressed firmly against mine. I smirked against Mingi’s lips when his breath hitched in the back of his throat due to my fingers tangling into his short strands now a little crusty from the red paint in it, it was no secret that Mingi liked it when I pulled on his hair. He cupped my chin with one hand as he pressed his weight on his left arm, the only cue I needed to open up my mouth to grant him access. We both sighed in contentment as his tongue slowly glided against mine, my legs coming up around his hips to lock Mingi’s body against mine.

Mingi moaned when I tangled my fingers just a little harder into his hair, letting him lap at my tongue as he explored my mouth, my body growing hotter as the seconds passed by, hands slipping under his loose tank top to feel up his warm skin. The skin of his back was smooth and I pressed my nails into it as I slowly racked it up his back, feeling Mingi shiver against my body as he jerked his hips forward, making me hum against his mouth as he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth and clamped down on it, sucking hard. I groaned and dug my nails into his shoulders, pulling my head back to be able to lean up and press kisses against his lean neck, his cologne mixing with the paint that was smeared all over us. My lips were hot as I parted them to press wet kisses against his flesh, sucking in the areas I knew Mingi was sensitive to, making him groan and jerk his hips forward again. With a hand slipping down to his hips, I gripped him firmly and prompted him to grind against me, Mingi’s head buried in my hair as I continued to press kisses until I reached his collarbones, gripping the hem of his tank top. He wasted no second as he pulled back just slightly, slipping the fabric off his torso, leaving it bare for me as I grinned at him, feeling his chest and abs up as he worked at the clips of my overall.

I kissed the skin between his pectorals and then pressed up on my elbows as Mingi made quick work of slipping the overall down to my waist and ultimately out of them as goosebumps covered the bare skin of my legs. We threw the overalls off to the side and Mingi was then moving back, down between my legs as he hovered above my thighs, eyes boring into mine as he pressed a feather-like kiss against my left thigh. I gulped and fisted my palms as heat pooled in my lower stomach, his lips always featherlight as he advanced higher up on my thighs with nips and kisses, sometimes licking at the skin teasingly. I knew my cheeks were flushed as I felt hotter by the minute and I shuddered when his lips pressed against my core through the fabric of my panties, making the breath hitch in the back of my throat. Mingi smirked and did it once again before he licked a slow strip upward, closing his eyes to hum, and I let my fingers tangle in his hair as he tapped my inner thigh, moving away from where I wanted him most.

He sat back to undo the buttons and zipper of his jeans, and I watched in anticipation as he slipped the fabric off his thick thighs and ass slowly, in a teasing manner, bottom lip between his teeth as he was half hard already, eyes hooded once he was done with his half-assed striptease. I chuckled and he was all over me again, hips flushed against mine again as I wrapped my legs around his hips, eager to feel his heavy body press me down into the floor. Mingi’s fingers gingerly traveled from my waist up to the hem of my blouse and then he brought it over my head and arms, landing in the pile of clothes to the side. And then his lips were over mine again, licking into my mouth and biting my lip messily as he slowly ground his hips against mine, making me hold onto him as it was easy to feel him in just our underwear. One of my hands went to tease at the elastic of his boxers and, despite him talking shit about it, I knew he liked it when I kneaded his ass, the skin sensitive for him there.

Mingi moaned and ground just a little harder against me, making me burn for him more as he cupped one of my boobs through the bra, pinching the bud as our tongues moved messily without much purpose or goal, too focused on how our bodies felt with the ministrations done to it. As he pressed himself up on his elbow, the hand that grabbed my boob traveled lower on my body until it was inside my panties and rubbing circles against my clit, making me moan out his name loudly, his length grinding up against my thigh as he bit my collarbone, making me screw my eyes shut as I was throbbing for him. But he was a little shit and he only teased, rubbing but never quite letting his fingers slip inside as he chuckled against my ear, making me grit my teeth at him as I gripped his wrist to keep him pressing against my clit as my hips kicked off the floor.

“You’re wet, doll.”

“And you’re not doing enough, love.”

Mingi chuckled again and I moaned as he teasingly slipped just the tip of his finger inside, his rings cold against my burning skin, my nails digging into the flesh of his ass. Mingi groaned and pulled back, making me groan in frustration as I glared at him, but he quickly silenced me with his lips as I felt him pull down my panties, I shimmied my hips to help him get over with it faster. He grinned and nipped at my bottom lip as I pushed his boxers off too, grabbing his dick to teasingly rub at his slit, making him hiss against my lips as our eyes fluttered open.

“What? Only you can tease?” Mingi’s eyes were dark and narrowed as he bucked against my hand, my pace awfully slow in jerking him off, “I could tell you to get off me and I would go on with my merry day—”

“Sure,” Mingi grinned, lips ghosting against my ear as his voice had dropped lower than usual, grabbing my wrist to stop my movements, “but you love my dick too much to pass up on it.”

I scoffed but said nothing, perhaps a little too desperate to have it inside me finally. I hated it when he teased me too much, and because Mingi knew this, he never passed up on the opportunity to get on my nerves even when we were having sex. He enjoyed it perhaps a little bit too much. But the teasing was finally over as he had gotten enough of it, eager to push in as he lined himself up with my entrance, pressing a kiss against my lips.

“I don’t have a condom.” He whispered, eyes searching mine.

“Just pull out, I’m fine.” I circled his shoulders, embracing myself as my core throbbed, eager to have his size expand my walls. Mingi hummed and then pressed another kiss against my lips as he slowly pushed inside, having to take it slow as he didn’t stretch me out with his fingers first, the burn insistent despite our active sex life. I still haven’t gotten used to it, but I didn’t mind as it only made me wetter for him, more eager to take him. Mingi’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he kept his breath labored, concentrating on not hurting me and taking it slow until I said so. I let my fingers run through his hair as I sighed, trying to relax my muscles and just melt into his arms, pressing a kiss against his cheek when he paused abruptly, shuddering.

“You’re so tight,” His voice was barely above a whisper and strained, “I’m about to burst.”

“So soon?” I asked with a chuckle, teasing as it earned me a sharp glare, “And whose fault it is I’m so tight? Your fingers are there for a reason.”

“Shut up.” Mingi groaned and then pressed in fully, a gasp leaving my throat at the sudden move, eyebrows scrunching up as he pressed in deep, making me feel fuller than before. My walls clamped down against his dick and Mingi pressed his forehead against mine as I embraced him, letting my fingers tangle in the short hair against his nape. I nodded, eyes boring into each other, and then Mingi was moving, slowly at first, pulling out only halfway before he was pressing back in, sighs leaving my lips as the pleasure was slowly building up, my hips moving in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

He secured his knees better against the canvas and pressed up on his elbows, hovering over me as his cross necklace dangled in my face, and the image was way too good and hot, knocking a moan out of me as he started thrusting faster, hips slamming back against mine as our pace got faster and more urgent, our breathy moans falling against each other’s lips as I nipped on Mingi’s bottom lip. I hooked a finger against the silver chain as his nose scrunched up, hips slamming back against mine with more purpose, more power, and eagerness as he looked down between our bodies, a grunt leaving his lips as he enjoyed the view. I hooked my legs tighter around his hips and prompted him to move faster, most of my moans were swallowed as we had to remember that we were at university still, in my own studio, so we couldn’t be too vocal. The walls here weren’t soundproof like in Mingi’s studio, yet staying quiet proved to become harder and harder as Mingi started pistoning his hips, grunts turned into low moans as he slammed his lips against mine, our breaths getting swallowed as our teeth knocked together, saliva gathering in the corner of our mouths as I pressed my hands against the small of his back, my own arching off the floor for an even better angle, keening his name when he finally reached the spot that had me seeing stars.

But Mingi was a diligent man who took his time in everything he did, even sex, and if he could prolong our orgasms, then he certainly would, so I had no doubt we’d be at it for a while, subsequently making us late to Aurora’s opening. And we couldn’t have that happening, but our brains were too fogged up and busy with something else to notice Wooyoung’s insistent texts on Mingi’s phone or my mother’s call to remind me I had to be home in fifteen minutes to start getting ready. Oh, well.

Turns out, we got there just in time and nobody screamed our ears off—I’m looking at you Wooyoung—and Seonghwa was certainly overwhelmed when he saw the number of people that showed up for the opening. It was a mix of all age groups and people who knew Seonghwa and Hongjoong from different places, like Hongjoong’s employees or Seonghwa’s colleagues from his major, and there were even more fans of Zenith Noir that showed up, surprising all three of the guys. Seulgi and I stood to the side with grins on our faces as their fans swarmed them and gushed about the beautiful designs Seonghwa had displayed, some put behind glass to protect the expensive material Hongjoong’s team had worked on, and some even put out to be tried on and bought if someone desired to do so.

Seonghwa’s speech had been an emotional one in which he thanked everyone for their support and Hongjoong for believing in him and offering him opportunities he thought were real only in a far-fetched dream, and then I got teary-eyed when Seonghwa’s family surprised him with cake and hugs and praises, making me extremely happy for being able to chase his dreams. The matching rings Hongjoong and he had on their ring finger were eye-catching to those who didn’t know about their engagement, and it was Hongjoong who proudly announced it to the whole room while Seonghwa flushed and tried not to hide behind Hongjoong despite being taller than his fiancé. It was a sight to behold and I wasn’t surprised to feel Mingi cuddle up into my side and sniff loudly as he watched his friends with a proud smile on his lips, Wooyoung amusingly quiet for once.

When everyone was done appreciating Seonghwa’s efforts and creations, he announced with a cheeky smile that the next time anyone visited, the front lobby would be decorated by other artists’ works, but because I had a special request, tonight my works were displayed in the room adjacent to this. I felt my heart in my throat as Seonghwa led us towards the dark room, then our eyes met and I nodded with a small smile, biting my bottom lip as the light switch was flipped on, coating the room in light. I turned to look at Mingi in anticipation as his eyes widened, and he broke free of the crowd, hurrying inside to take in the entirety of the room, from being incredulous to teary-eyed and then looking like the happiest man on Earth, I couldn’t help it but let my heart swell in happiness and pride as I watched him chuckle and look at me with eyes filled with pure and honest love.

The soft sage green walls were decorated with two portraits of Mingi I had sketched out right at the beginning when I had met him, when I wasn’t so familiar with all of his features yet. Then it progressed to the moments I had captivated as our relationship slowly progressed into that of friendship, us sitting in his car, Mingi driving, Mingi laughing at making me flustered, Mingi’s sharp eyes watching me in a faceless crowd, Mingi up on stage shining like the star he is, Mingi gazing at me with yearning in his eyes, Mingi hugging me warmly into his chest, Mingi chewing on his bottom lip in concentration as he sat in his chair in his studio, working on his music, Mingi looking upset because I rudely disregarded everything that’s happened between us, Mingi angry because I was too stubborn to admit my feelings for him, too afraid to move on from Yunho, and at last, Mingi smiling so widely his eyes disappeared, nose scrunched up and his front teeth showing a little more than usual, pure happiness painting his face.

There was a low murmur amongst the crowd as everyone took in the sketches, drawings, and paintings, but I was only focused on Mingi and his reaction to seeing the stages of our relationship displayed through my eyes, my feelings, and my thoughts. And then, more towards the end of the exposition, there was an old sketch of Yunho I had done while still mulling over the failure of our relationship, and right next to it was a painting of both Yunho and Mingi as they sat next to each other, laughing about whatever was funny at that moment. I had captured the moment when Mingi, me, Yunho, and his girlfriend had gone out for dinner, and then I decided I wanted to paint it twice and gift it to Mingi and Yunho for Christmas. I suppose Mingi would get his sooner than Yunho, I’m sure neither would mind.

Seonghwa announced that I was the artist behind the creations and the room erupted in cheers and claps as people complimented me on my talent, but my eyes were on Mingi only as his blazer was glittery underneath the white light, matching my floor-length glittery black dress. He opened his arms and I didn’t waste any more seconds to approach him and let him crush me in his arms, his embrace warm and reassuring as he pressed his face into my hair, exhaling loudly as I embraced him back just as tightly, closing my eyes as my heart was racing. These past three months I spent next to him had been the best time of my life ever, he made me happier and feel safer than anyone else ever. He helped me get better at controlling my explosive emotions and he helped me slowly break down the walls I so defensively built up after Yunho’s departure. He made me unafraid to love and to receive love, he made me want to spend the rest of my life with him.

I wanted a forever with him.

“I love you, Mingi.” And it was the first time I voiced those thoughts, voice clear but quiet so that only he’d hear it. I felt Mingi freeze, a gasp leaving his mouth as he pulled back, holding me at arm's length as I smiled at him softly, “I love you.”

Mingi gulped as his eyes suddenly turned teary, and he cupped my cheeks as he lowered his head to press his forehead against mine, inhaling deeply as he nodded his head. He’d said those three words to me before, unafraid and unashamed to let me know how he truly felt towards me, and I finally found the courage to say it back. I finally was ready to let him know just how much I felt for him, that I loved him just as much as he loved me.

“I love you, Y/N, so much.” His voice trembled and he kept his eyes closed out of fear of having the tears escape them, and I hummed, resting my hands on his shoulders as I gently rubbed the skin of his neck in an attempt to soothe him.

“I love you just as much, Mingi.”

And he smiled, pressing his warm lips against mine with the unspoken promise that this would last forever, that this was what we both had been searching for. Safety, contentment, honesty, friendship, and freedom, a love that was honest and unafraid. It seemed like our future was rather promising, next to him, I could take on anything. We won’t forget to look at the moon tonight.

I love you, Song Mingi.

A/N: So, hello once again, I am so-so grateful if you made it 'til the end. I cannot believe I'm actually finished with this story and it's a really bittersweet feeling actually, because I am as happy as sad, no joke I kinda cried a little bit. I absolutely love the character and personality I have created for Mingi in this story and I love MC and his dynamic so much, that I find it so freaking hard to let go of them omg, what's happening to me?!

I just really really want to thank everyone who stuck around from start to finish, or from the middle of the story, or showed up as we neared the end of it, I am so so grateful to you all for being patient with me and showering me with love and making me look forward to posting. I was always so excited about a new chapter because I wanted it to be the best, and when I felt like it wasn't, you reassured me that it was and it made me really happy.

I started this story nine months ago, back on the 15th of December, which is funnily enough my sister's birthday so now I will never forget the date I posted it lol, and I find it so freaking crazy that this whole story came from a random brainstorming with my best friend in my car (@orshii), right as we finished our classes at university, brains fried off and ready to end everything, and yet, here I am, trying not to cry again ffs because of how much I grew to love every character in the story.

A little insight: the story at first started out as a random plot that was somewhat similar to 10 Things I Hate About You (which is one of my favorite movies) as Mingi was inspired by Patrick's character and our MC by Kat's, but as time went on, the story and our characters became their own and thus this is how Love Me Like A Rockstar was created. Back at that time I was also obsessed with this song, which played a part in the story becoming a rockstar!au beside Mingi acting like a whole ass rockstar during Crazy Form era lol, and even the title is inspired by the censored version of the song.

I think I made this note already too long, so I'll try to wrap it up. I really want to thank absolutely everyone who reads the whole story, to my loyal readers who were here for every chapter and for all of your thoughts and theories and for making me smile, really. Those who stumbled upon this when it's already finished, I hope you enjoyed each chapter and had fun exploring the world I created (this applies to those too who stuck around while it was still on-going) and I always appreciate your feedback, it's never too late! Thank you everyone, and I hope to see you back for my other stories! <3

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pzychojinx · 1 month ago

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as I said, act two left me with genuinely mixed opinions. that said, I slept on it and I think I'm able to verbalize it a little bit.

let's start with what I think went right in this act. first of all, obviously, the animation and art. if possible, they're outdoing themselves. I love the experimentation, I absolutely adored the pastel tones they used for vi and jinx's childhood memories, the way isha's point of view sequence feels like it's straight out of a ghibli movie, I loved the distortion effects used on jayce and every single visual effect they used for viktor to convey this sense of absolute inhumanity, the entire messianic visuals were insane, warwick was gorgeous especially during sequences where we didn't get to see him but rather we got to see the camera following his massacre. gorgeous. no notes.

episode four, in my opinion, was near perfect plot-wise too. seeing the new state of the military situation in zaun, getting to see sevika as the rallier of the revolution, isha's drive to be a fighter for zaun leading her to impersonate jinx when needed, the whole mission to enter stillwater - I genuinely think it was incredible. most of all, it was probably my favourite jinx episode to date. and that's saying a lot. this is a character I've resonated with and held very very close to my heart for three years now. seeing her gain not only a younger sister through whom there could be a process of reclaiming her own past, but also very importantly seeing her gain new objectives and seeing her gain community, was deeply healing and heartwarming to me. that one scene where her followers touch her, not only as an idol but as an equal, is so so moving and good. isha was the kickstarter to jinx's reclaiming of powder and a sense of stability, sure, but living in a fantasy with isha alone could have very easily led her to the same old mechanism of co-dependency - thus never breaking the cycle that silco himself perpetrated onto her. but no, they made her respected. they made her see a nation of people who saw something in her. they gave her goals, even if she reasonably only started giving a fuck about said goals when her sister/child went missing. it was everything I never thought could happen to her. it was healing.

episode five is where the issues start, I think. first of all, there's been way way way too much space dedicated to the black rose. much as I love mel, much as I find her truly intriguing, her plotline is so severely disconnected from everything else and it feels un-cohesive. before s2 started, one of my main fears was that they would give noxus an excessive screentime in order to prepare the viewers for a future noxus project and I hate to see that I was right. this leads to the second issue, which is pacing. and specifically, vi. vi stans, how are you doing? because to be fair, the show kind of fucked you over and there's no sugar-coating it. the fact that vi's fighting pit era lasted three minutes was genuinely ridiculous. the entire plotline involving her, jinx and warwick in episode five was way, way too rushed in order to make space for black rose content - and again, I love mel, I love ambessa. but there's no doubt something was off here in terms of pacing and screentime. now, I don't think the episode was bad. I loved the dynamic between jinx and vi. with jinx having gained some sort of a stability (at least, for her standards) and vi having nothing else to lose, the fact that their conflict turned into a half unwilling cooperation felt very real and believable to me and I loved their interactions, especially in the micro expressions; it all screamed family bond where something went awfully wrong but here we fucking are and the love is still there at the roots. I just, you know, would have liked to see more of it. the final hug with warwick felt, to me, less earned than it could have been if we just had a little more time with these characters in this arc. was it emotional? sure, but could it have hit harder if the episode was just structured a little bit differently, a little more cohesively, especially regarding vi? yeah. and another question: would the zaunite revolution arc have needed more than just one episode before being pushed aside and sort of forgotten? probably, yeah, even though there's no comparison with how vi's arc was reduced to three mins. so again, pacing issue. still, I had no particular issues with the plot and the contents of the story itself. I would say episode five was rushed, crammed and structurally weak, but the story still hit me in all the right ways when it needed to. vi and jinx's reluctant steps to some sort of understanding hit me hard, in spite of any structural weakness.

episode six... well. episode six leaves me so conflicted. 'cause the thing is, it's dope. I think it's a fucking bomb. they managed to fit nearly (nearly - mel being, again, dissociated from the main storyline and in this case, absent) every character's plotline into a cohesive arc. it kept me on the edge of my seat near the whole time. there were so, so many things I absolutely adored - the imminent attack on the commune from ambessa, the way they managed to make warwick a center plot point and use that plot point to show us both the benefits and the limitations of viktor's hexcore messianic utopia cult, everything regarding jayce's return (whom is getting so much hate, but come on, it's clear the man has seen Some Things), the way the episode starts off with a plan but not necessarily a sense of deep urgency and then the urgency slowly creeps in and it explodes into a fucking battlefield. again, warwick. vi and jinx's slow re-building of some trust, slow reclaiming of family love. viktor. man, I adored their work on viktor. I just found it dope. the thing is, episode six has two major, major issues that I just can't seem to get past and this time it's plot issues, which makes it worse than 2.05 for me.

the first one, caitlyn. sure, I get that caitlyn wasn't fully onto ambessa's methods. but there's a very huge leap from 'I distrust this person and I question her methods' to 'my ex told me that this savage monster that just brutally mauled our men is her father so I'm just gonna help her save him'. like jesus, come on. caitlyn deserved better than this. (again, shoutout to vi stans, cait stans and caitvi stans, they did you dirty.) especially when I think they did such a good job on her descent in act one. the second one, isha. look, I'm gutted if she's dead. like fucking gutted, mourning, red-wedding level in shock, like, can't even think about it without wanting to cry. but this is not just an emotional thing. in fact, I love some good angst. no, this is a narrative issue. they spent the entire act - the entire season - building up jinx's healing and to take it all away like this, to bring her back to step one, just feels like fucking trauma porn for the sake of it. it feels unnecessary and cheap, and cheapness is the one thing I can't forgive arcane. like, what was the point? why not have her spiral from 2.01 if this was the direction? it's beyond me and it makes me feel so bitter, so sick, that at times it's hard for me to remember that there were so, so many things I adored in these three episodes. again, 2.04 is up there as my favourite jinx episode to date. 2.05 gave me some of my favourite siblings moment in the entire show. 2.06's work on viktor and hexcore and magic is otherwordly. I'm so glad I got these episodes, genuinely. and yet.

'cause the thing is, - not considering the isha thing for a minute - aside from my critique regarding caitlyn, and aside from having to make peace with how rushed/crammed the pacing is, this show is still absolutely gorgeous to me. it's still gorgeous art to me. sure, s2 has its very real issues. and for sure, it's absolutely reasonable to recognize them, critique them, and still find it an incredible story. but this. fuck, this could change everything to me. if isha's truly dead, then it means they wasted six episodes on what could have been one of the best, most genuine, most earned stories of unexpected healing I'd ever seen on my screen just to throw it away and I'm not sure how to forgive them for that. episode six itself was dope. episode six isn't really where my gut-deep fear and bitterness comes from. it's where it could lead from now on. I'm so holding out hope on ekko saving the day, even if it's a deus ex machina. it's a deus ex machina I'd accept if it means not throwing away jinx's entire road to recovering. but I don't know, guys. I don't know. making her spiral as a general s2 choice would have been one thing, and I would have been on board, but this is something else entirely. this is cheap betrayal and if true, if confirmed, if real, it's a sour taste.

#arcane #arcane meta #arcane spoilers #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane speculation #jinx #isha #vi #warwick #viktor #jayce talis #ekko #caitlyn kiramman #mel medarda #ambessa medarda

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rollofleaf · 1 year ago

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Gorgeous art of Arueshalae and Hilde by @darkergrey ! I adore both their designs and the emotion in the scene is sooo good! I also wrote a short little thing for the scene this inspired.

“Wait, Hilde. Before your decision becomes final… Look me in the eye. Please.” Arueshalae worked up the courage to stand, it felt like pushing a mountain off her back.

Nocticula hissed out, “Arueshalae, shut your whorish mouth…” Her claws came out, and the succubus brought all of her willpower to bear against the order for her to kneel.

Suddenly, light chased away the oppressive demand of the Abyss as Iomedae spoke. “Allow her to speak. Or do the words of one succubus frighten you so, Lady in Shadow?” The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the goddess’s lips as Nocticula clicked her tongue and fell silent.

Arueshalae felt Nocticula’s threatening gaze on her, and Iomedae’s judgmental stare. She didn’t belong with either of them. But neither did Hilde. She finally realized. She and Hilde were the same. She had been where Hilde was going, they were both halfway on the precipice between the Abyss and Elysium. Only she was rising, slowly but surely, and Hilde was descending. No matter what the skald said, no matter what she believed, if she kept going she would become as horrible as Arueshalae used to be.

Hilde slowly turned to look at Arueshalae. Her eyes were sorrowful, her voice soft and timid. The succubus spoke, forcing each word out. “You’ve done so much for me, Hilde. You’ve helped me find my dreams and make peace with my nightmares… Desna showed me the path away from evil, but you are the one who showed me the path towards good. And after all you’ve done for me, I… I just can’t accept that you’re going to become a monster of the Abyss!”

“Arueshalae, I… I’m not. I’m using this for good. Why can’t you… Why can’t anyone see that? I’m fixing the Worldwound! I’m doing more than any holy-blooded crusader has in a century!” Anger and indignation crept into her voice, falling away as she saw the crestfallen look on Arueshalae’s face.

“You said that before these powers, your rage was like a graceful trance. Every battle was a delicate hymn woven with sword and magic, a terrifying yet beautiful prayer to Gorum. Can you truly say it’s the same now? I see how you are when the demon comes out. There’s no joy, no elegance, no awe, only rage and hate. Every time you indulge it, it grows stronger. And you manage to turn it towards good ends, because you’re so wonderful and so strong like that, but how long can that last? You yourself asked me to tell you if you started to lose yourself. Hilde, I am telling you that you are losing yourself.”

Her hand took Hilde’s gently, squeezing with delicate burning fingers. The demon snarled at the upstart succubus, did she truly believe her own delusions of good? Hilde forced it down, biting back any venom that might be directed at Arueshalae. But she still couldn’t… “I can’t just… Give it up. Maybe I am becoming a monster, but I’m too far-“

“No, you’re not. You can always turn back. You can always choose to be better. You showed me that. Back… Back then, you said that you loved me…” Her voice dimmed, terrified to let out the words before she gathered her courage and nearly shouted. “I need you to know that I love you too! Let everyone know, gods, mortals, and demons, I love you, Hilde! And it’s breaking my heart to see this happen to you. Please, free yourself of the Abyss, I’m begging you! I’ll help, I’ll be there for you! Like you helped me…”

The words hit Hilde like a thunderbolt, nearly staggering her back. Arueshalae… Loved her? Tears welled in the skald’s eyes, flowing down her bloodstained cheeks. She glanced down at her hand, clutched in Arueshalae’s. Arueshalae was right. She hadn’t even realized how far she’d gone. And she was hurting her friends, her crusade, and the woman she loved. If she kept going, there would be no turning back. She was trying so hard to help Arueshalae be better, she had forgotten to do the same herself. What a fool she was…

Hilde began to laugh softly, then broke into crying. Her voice was shaky as she calmed herself and spoke, squeezing Arueshalae’s hand back, “You… You’re right, Arueshalae. You’re right. I’m sorry. For everything. You deserved an azata or an angel. Not a demon…” She slowly let go of Arueshalae’s hand and turned back to Iomedae and Nocticula. “I’m sorry, I…” She let out a brief sob and wiped her eyes. “Iomedae… I’ll accept your help. Tell me how to strip myself of these powers and cleanse myself of the Abyss’s influence.”

#pathfinder wotr #oc: hilde svalksdottir #arueshalae #knight commander #I’m just so in love with them #adore Hilde’s bright hair and tan complexion her design has grown on me so much

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lostgracestories · 4 months ago

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Hello! Can I request some Morgott/Tarnished headcanons about them being consorts and their married life? <3 Thank you!!

YESSS ILY <3

I have severe Morgott brainrot and istfg I love this emotionally constipated omen king <333 thank you for this request! Lowkey, as usual, this will probably be all over the place but I hope you enjoy none the less!

wc: 709 tw: do i need a tw for weapons?, mention of drunkeness (no one's actually drunk, also is that a word?)

~Marriage and Consortship~

Morgott is a very busy man. Like, very busy. Between paperwork and other kingly duties, he worries he hardly has time for his precious consort. However, he is ever so grateful for the patience you bestow upon him. he does not think himself worthy of such grace.

Whenever Morgott has a break in his busy schedule, he immediately fills it with you. Finished signing the last contract for the day? He's by your side in seconds with a cup of tea (he's old he probably likes tea, right?) and he makes sure that you know he loves you.

Obviously, it took him a while to get used to this new change in his life. Never in a million years had he thought he would be married and as such, he has no idea how to pick up on queues. "I wish a big strong man would come open this for me" "Wouldst thou like me to fetch one of the soldiers to help thee?" "...No Morgott I meant you" And you know he'd blush like an idiot every time something like this happens. (and he'd obviously help cause he loves you)

Morgott has a difficult time expressing his feelings through words. Despite his expansive vocabulary, he's never gotten a chance to speak in such a way with someone. Every once in a while he will try to compliment you and it will be so awkward that he vows to never do it again. (he will, in time) "Thy beauty is like a thousand swords, sharp, relentless, and unyielding" "...huh?" "...I meant... thou art fair...?" but lowkey, he would try to compare you to things he's familiar with and oftentimes it will have to do with battle and sometimes the erdtree.

Morgott unironically switches from calling you "Tarnished" to "My queen" and "My lady" the moment you both are joined through consortship/marriage. And he'll be damned if he admits that his heart beats a little faster when you call him "My king" although, it's so very obvious by how his body shifts around and his gaze leaves you when you say it.

Morgott had a ring handcrafted specifically for you. It definitely had a design resembling vines and leaves and the band is for sure gold. You don't even want to think of how much it cost him.

Morgott also sucks at receiving gifts. When he saw the mountain of gifts after their (albeit small) wedding, he nearly fainted. He still feels guilty accepting things from people, even if he knows you say he's worth it.

Morgott had always insisted that the two of you sleep separately because he feared he would accidentally harm you. So, when you came into his room on the night after the wedding, he stared at you in confusion. At first he thought you were drunk but instead, you had climbed into bed with him and expressed that you wished to sleep in the same bed from now on. He was hesitant but he allowed it. He had to admit, he actually enjoyed it.

Morgott sometimes lets you help him make political choices. If he becomes stuck on a certain matter, he will seek you out for help. "My Queen, thou art so gracious, pray tell, wouldst thee help me with this issue?"

He 100% loves to garden. During your wedding, he had made your bouquet by hand out of erdleaf flowers. It was so gorgeous that when you asked him to help you preserve them, he instead made you a little bench in his garden (he can definitely do woodwork too) for you to sit amongst his erdleaf flowers. Whenever he walks past the garden and sees his beautiful wife sitting amongst his hard work, he is immediately pulled out of what he is doing. No matter how important it is. He can't help but admire you from afar.

And lastly, he of course always humors your little date ideas. Even if it means sneaking away from his kingly duties to go watch the stars. If the night was cold in those moments, he would definitely allow you to find warmth in his tattered cloak. (you could beg and beg but he refused to get rid of it for better clothes)

#morgott #morgott the grace given #morgott x tarnished #morgott the omen king #elden ring morgott #elden ring #marriage #fluff #consorts #i love this man #he needs a hug #why can't I just befriend him in game #I need a dating sim #help I'm unhinged

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verdantwyrm · 18 days ago

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YOU SAID TO GIVE U HEADCANNONS SO HERE IT GOES!!

Curly is a youngest sibling, and a bit of a Mama's boy. He also seems like the kind of freak to prefer diet soda BECAUSE of the weird aftertaste (he canonically doesn't like sweets very much so this is not too much of a stretch). I've also seen others headcannon him as Australian and i feel like it fits although tbf I'm definitely not Australian and i don't have any Australian friends so idk if I'm the one to judge how accurate it is lol.

Daisuke is a gyaruo (this one seems pretty popular actually but i keep seeing people say gyaru instead and it bugs me so much because gyaru is specifically referring to girls like it literally translates to "gal" in English, and gyaruo is a modified version with a masculine suffix added to include guys into the subculture. I've been a gyaru for around two years now, so I'm not like an expert but like come on it takes ten seconds of googling. Ok gyaru rant over.) he also loves stupid sitcoms and has the most random music taste. His playlist will go straight from like Britney Spears to MCR to Lana Del Rey. It doesn't bug him at all though he loves the genre whiplash.

Anya is from Minnesota (YES GIRL REPRESENT!!) and she loves Culver's. She canonically loves junk food, and Culver's is like the signature Midwest fast food restaurant so yeah. She also cuts her own hair.

swansea and his wife love the Great British Baking Show, and lots of other baking shows too. He says he only watches them because she likes him, but is secretly WAY more invested than she is.

Jimmy both kins AND has a crush on bojack horseman. He also was definitely that one person at your school who was always like "nobody wants to be my friend I'm so lonely 😔" and then when you get to know them you're like "WOW I FUCKING WONDER WHY" (the initial sympathy is what caused curly to become his friend, but since he's curly, he didn't have the heart to ditch him once he figured out why jimmy was so unpopular. Even though he definitely should have.)

Ok uhh i think that's it. Ur awesome btw. I hope this doesn't sound weird but i want to platonically shower you in delicate flowers and fine lace and chiffon and silks because you have a gorgeous mind. Sorry if that's weird. You're so cool.

Haha yes! Send the headcanons!! All of them!

Curly being the younger one in a family is honestly so cute, he reeks of perfect little mama's boy who gets his cheeks pinched by all the older ladies for being such a gentleman and so kind and so sweet. The diet soda thing is so true and as an Australian I absolutely give you permission and acknowledge your headcanon because he absolutely is.

Daisuke is definitely gyaruo! And I love love love all the art I see of him!! The playlist I have for him here is very much like that, he has alot of songs that varies in genre! And hes very much like me fr

Anya absolutely cuts her own hair and doesn't care if its slightly lopsided. To me she loves any kind of fast food especially cheeseburgers.

Swansea is also just like me, I feel like he has a guilty pleasure of watching nature documentaries too, he finds them relaxing and informative, a break fron machinery and electronics and just relax in the calmness of nature.

I also headcanon Jimmy to actually sound like bojack horseman too! They're so similar its kind of scary.... I feel like he and Curly absolutely became friends because one of them felt bad and was doing it partially because he's just to sweet for his own good.

Also thank you so much!! I've never recieved such positive responses before over something like my dumb little analyses. Your love and kind words are very much appreciated!! It's not weird at all and it makes me very happy ⊂(´･◡･⊂ )∘˚˳°

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing swansea #just talking

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rosenallies · 9 months ago

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"it's okay, just breathe" or "Ill stay as long as you need" with planymphia <333

well <3 I tried <3

——

“Nymphia! I’m back.” Jane called as she walked casually into Nymphia’s apartment like she lived there, setting down the takeout she’d just picked up.

Nymphia, who Jane had left in bed, was silent. Jane huffed, shaking her head as she padded to the bedroom, sticking her head in and finding Nymphia in a heap underneath the duvet. “Babe? Did you fall asleep?”

Still no answer, Jane tip toed over to the bed, gently lifting the corner of the blanket and peeking underneath. She didn’t find Nymphia asleep like she thought, but she found her crying quietly into her hands.

Concern clouded Jane’s features, eyebrows furrowing together as she kneeled next to the bed. “Nymphia,” she said softly, extending her hand for her to take.

Jane had never been good at comforting people, usually preferring to keep her distance from crying people, but Nymphia brought out a gentleness in her that she didn’t know she had. Seeing Nymphia anything other than happy and content made Jane’s chest ache, but this was the first time she’d seen her cry and immediately Jane knew she wanted to make it stop no matter what.

Never breaking contact, Jane slid into bed beside her, gently moving her head to her lap, stroking her hair while she whispered. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Nymphia shook her head, moving to hide her face in Jane’s abdomen, wanting so badly to disappear into her partner.

“No? Nothing happened? Did I-?”

Shaking her head again, Nymphia cried harder, grabbing onto Jane’s sweatshirt and holding herself there.

“Oh, baby,” Jane cooed, “it’s okay, just breathe, it’ll be okay, whatever is it. We can stay like this as long as you need.”

While Nymphia sobbed, Jane spoke quietly and tenderly to her, rubbing her back and coaching her though breathing until she was calm enough to take a full breath and look up at Jane. Her bloodshot eyes and red cheeks broke Jane’s heart.

“Tell me what’s the matter. Please.”

Nymphia spoke quietly. “I-I’m just a bit in my head.”

Jane hummed, urging her to continue.

“I-I’m not as confident as you might think,” she said, shame washing over her in a red flush over her cheeks, “I just don’t feel-I don’t feel pretty today and-and when you left it just kind of all hit me at once.”

Jane was taken aback, not expecting that response at all, especially after they’d spent all afternoon into the evening alternating between fucking and making love and the thought that preoccupied Jane’s mind the most was how beautiful Nymphia is. If it were up to Jane, Nymphia’s casual little selfies would hang in an art museum.

“Sometimes I just feel so, so ugly,” she continued, making Jane’s stomach churn. It was one thing to not feel pretty, everyone had moments where they don’t feel their best, hell Jane didn’t feel her best in that moment in the sweats she threw on to go pick up dinner, but Nymphia feeling ugly was just unacceptable.

“But, Nymphia, you’re beautiful,” she replied, almost a little dumbfounded over how someone like Nymphia could ever think they weren’t the most beautiful thing in the world. Nymphia wasn’t cocky at all, but Jane would have understood if she was. To Jane, Nymphia was perfect in every way.

“I don’t ever feel that way,” she laughed bitterly, “sometimes I don’t get what you see in me.”

Jane sighed, running a hand through Nymphia’s hair. “You know I’m not the best with words and being vulnerable but I see so much in you. Not only do I think you’re gorgeous, but you’re also kind and funny and you’re the only one to allow me to let my guard down. You’ve softened me.”

Nymphia giggled. “Janey’s going soft on me,” she said, sighing before the smile was wiped off her face, making way for an anxiousness that wasn’t there before, “do you really mean all that?”

“Of course I do. I mean every word and I’ll tell you whenever you need to hear it.”

“Thank you, I still don’t really feel my best, but I feel better.”

Jane smiled. “Can I take care of you tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

“Good,” Jane said, leaning down and kissing Nymphia gently, “stay here and I’ll bring the food in here?”

Nodding, Nymphia scooted from Jane’s lap to let her up, sitting against the headboard while Jane brought the takeout into the bedroom.

“I know eating noodles in bed isn’t the most conventional thing, but there’s something that feels healing about it, don’t you think?” Jane said, settling next to Nymphia.

“As long as we don’t get anything on my nice bedsheets.”

“I won’t,” Jane promised, pulling the takeout container away from Nymphia when she reached for it, “let me.”

Jane twirled a bit of Nymphia’s noodles on a fork and held it to her lips.

“Really? I think I can feed myself,” Nymphia laughed.

Jane shook her head and tutted. “Just let me take care of you, I wanna take care of you.”

“Okay fine,” Nymphia relented with a giggle, letting herself relax into Jane’s doting.

#planymphia office au #prompt request

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stars-n-spice · 11 months ago

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TBB S3 TRAILER

Holy FUCK I was not prepared for this.

As soon as I saw the trailer posted on Instagram, I grabbed my laptop and casted the trailer on the TV and stood in front of the TV like an old asian man; hands behind the back, spine bent, feet planted shoulder width apart.

Cannot believe it's finally here and I've got a lot of thoughts that I'm going to put under the cut because holy shit, this trailer hit me like a brick.

Idk if they will be comprehensive honestly but I'm writing them down as I rewatch the trailer.

In summary though? This season is going to absolutely wreck me and I will never recover from it emotionally and probably financially too if we get a new wave of merch and shit with it too.

Anyways, thoughts and reactions under the cut-

What the fuck are they doing with that transport? They stealing something? Retrieving something? Is it a tank? Hello, where is Echo??? IS THAT FUCKING CROSSHAIR?! IN S1 ARMOR???

PHEE GENOA!! so fucking great to see her again, I'm going to be absolutely devastated if they show us her reaction to Tech's supposed death.

CAPTAIN REX MY LOVE YOU'VE COME HOME!! "I thought the end of the war would mean the end to losing more of our brothers" <- that better be about Tech and not about Cody, so help me god-

OMEGA'S NEW HAIRCUT :( she looks so much older now :((

STOP CROSSHAIR LOOKS SO FUCKING SAD. I feel terrible actually... this is like,, this is a shell of a man,, like,, this is a man who's got like,, nothing. He looks awful and I swear if he doesn't get some peace of mind I'm going to lose my mind.

"Omega's been waiting for us a long time." NO NO NO DON'T FUCKING DO THIS TO ME. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF YOU DO A TIMESKIP, ANY MEASURE OF TIME THAT OMEGA HAD TO BE WITHOUT HER BROTHERS AND WONDERING WHEN THEY WERE GOING TO COME AND GET HER IT'S GOING TO BREAK ME. I fucking hate timeskips so much, I swear if she's been by herself for more than a year, or even just a year, I'm going to be PISSED. If she doesn't get the chance to be a kid like she deserves I'm going to fucking lose it.

PALPATINE?! "There is nothing of greater importance to secure the purpose of this Empire" <- y'all talking about cloning? About cloning Palpatine because you have to explain why "somehow Palpatine returned"???

HEY WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!

Holy shit the animation is really good. Like that whole fighting montage?? The fucking scene on the bridge looks like,, fucking live action to me. Idk how to describe it but the animation is fuckng beautiful and I wish Star Wars did more animation because this is gorgeous.

FENNEC SHAND MY LOVE!! MY WIFE RETURNS!!! PLEASE BE IN MORE THAN ONE EPISODE MY QUEEN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! and Cad Bane is there too ig-

"They are coming, for all of you." <- who is this. do not come for me but I cannot for the life of me figure out who this is. It's not Cody, I don't see the scar. Someone help me out here-

WOLFFE IS BACK BABY!!! FUCK I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE HIM IN TBB ART STYLE

HUNTER ON PABU! Thinking they probably went back after everything and I want to see how they've adjusted and settled in, please, I am begging.

My baby, my angel, myivida, the light of my life. Fuck it's so good to see and hear you again. If anything happens to you I swear to god-

LMAOO DID HUNTER JUST GET YOINKED BY A SPACE CROC?!?! WAIT THEY'RE ON THE BOAT WITH FENNEC!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA

There are two clips that allude to the fact that they get Crosshair out of there before they get Omega and I'm going feral over it. If this means we get them reuniting with Crosshair sooner than later I'm fucking ecstatic. Like because,, that's Crosshair's rifle and they clearly cropped the screen for the sake of the trailer, right? Right??

Hey where is the zillo beast?

ASAJJ VENTRESS??!?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! You're telling me,, I get a season,, with Wrecker, Wolffe, Fennec, AND Asajj? Oh be still my beating heart. Anyone hear something meowing?

Also I know in the trailer it seems like she's facing off with TBB but the backgrounds don't really seem to line up so I'm hoping they don't actually face off with each other.

Tech literally only being indirectly mentioned and showing his death scene again but recolored and shit makes me feel all kinds of things.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

3 EPISODE PREMIERE?!?!?!?!?!?! fuck me.

Echo wasn't in this trailer enough and where the FUCK was Cody?!?!?!?!

Fuck.

#tbb #the bad batch #star wars #clone force 99 #tbb trailer #tbb s3 #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #best believe i'm feral over this #screaming crying throwing up #i am unwell #i love them a normal amount #i love this show a normal amount

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oneatlatime · 2 years ago

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The Boy in the Iceberg

58 seconds in and I can already see why people say this show is gorgeous. Look at those colours! Although the double image around some of the line art is distracting.

Can water do that? Just have random fast currents in an otherwise pretty still ocean? Also, Catara couldn't have grabbed a spare paddle and helped? Actually they seemed screwed anyway. If they were going any faster they probably would have landed harder, or not on ice at all.

Judging by Sokka's lack of reaction to Catara's temper tantrum, I'd say she has that exact rant at least three times a week.

It's a face!

Maybe the giant orb created the current to summon them there?

Catara has no self-preservation instincts at all. Giant glowy orb washed up in front of you, don't poke it!

Tiger seals.

Solitaire. Neat.

That haircut is not good. Also a very unique choice for a voice. Wait this is Zuko? The guy everyone's obsessed with?

I love Appa already.

"this is Catara, my flying sister." A man after my own heart.

They really would have been stuck without Aang to offer a ride. What was their plan to get home?

Zuko is a prince? Hunting the avatar to reclaim his honour. Not sure how those two go together but ok. I guess 100 years ago the avatar stole a time-travelling Zuko's honour.

Appa can swim through the night? Why does he have six legs?

I didn't know this was a dream sequence at first and I was wondering where Sokka and Catara were. For future reference: dreams are brown.

Aang should have frozen to death by now. That's nowhere near enough clothes. And Catara can't be only just noticing the blue lines now.

Seems like the village has hit a rough patch.

If this is how catara reacts to a bald child, she's gonna spontaneously combust the first time she meets a teenage boy who isn't her brother. And how is an air bender going to teach her water bending?

Between the Appa snot and the watchtower gag, I sense Sokka will become the butt of many jokes.

You know, if you want him to actually learn, maybe tell him what he did wrong rather than reciting philosophical stuff and then shooting fire at his face? His presumably scarred face? Scarred presumably by fire? Kudos to Zuko for not flinching.

Is there a stick in Zuko's hair that's supporting it upright or does his hair just do that? Does Zuko have Pippi Longstocking hair? Speaking of hair, why does Catara have her hair like that? Surely that gets in the way of seeing stuff? It does look good when her hood is up though.

Good sneaky exposition dump Zuko. Didn't notice it until I thought about it after.

There's something hilarious yet tragic about Sokka spouting the wartime equivalent of live laugh love quotes and losing the battle with potty breaks. He has no idea what he's talking about but he believes in what he's saying so much.

Did Aang spend an hour in there?!?

So pretty.

Appa has six legs and penguins have four wings. Is the rule in this show that animals have 50% more appendages?

Last airbender smothered by penguins, more at 11.

"I haven't done this since I was a kid!" "You still are a kid!" That line feels like something that's going to come back.

Was the whole 'being a bender is showing no fear' or however that line went actually about bending, or do you really just want to explore the ship, Aang?

Gerbils at the south pole?

Would the fire nation send people back to rig a lost ship or are all fire nation ships rigged at all times and the crews are just used to working around the traps? Actually that would be a great way to catch spies.

I would jump to brain-damage induced amnesia from being trapped in an iceberg for a few hours before I'd ever think of a century long cryo-sleep. "it's the only explanation." Really?

All of these backgrounds are so pretty.

Air bending gets you some serious air. Those hops are stupid big, even accounting for cartoon physics.

I really like the end credits music. And according to the credits, I've been mispelling Katara's name this whole time.

Some final thoughts:

Katara (with a K) is too idealistic and trusting and Sokka is too cynical and suspicious. A perfect sibling pair. Also I love Sokka's sense of humour.

I like Aang's specific flavour of goofiness. He seems secure in himself and genuine. He has attention issues though.

Appa is a sea bison actually. Common misconception.

I like that they introduce the antagonist like 10 minutes into the first episode, but they're going to have to flesh him out way more before I read Zuko as anything other than an asshole. Also the voice is going to take a while to get used to. It's not that it doesn't fit the character design, it's just that I've never heard an actual human talk like that naturally. It's kind of muppet-like. Maybe he damaged his throat when he got that scar?

The voice acting is just superb. Even single lines like Gran Gran have distinct character. I did have to rewind a couple of times to catch what the old man with Zuko was saying.

The shading on the snow, the clouds and the skies, it's all so beautiful. You could watch this episode on mute and still be satisfied.

Katara is the only waterbender in the whole south pole, Sokka is the only man in the whole village, and Aang is the only air bender in the whole world. Gonna be a lot of lonely kids in this show. I sense a theme. I bet Appa is the only sea bison too.

Sokka is my favourite so far, but I think Aang is going to grow on me. Katara is a little bit too much of a Little Sister (TM) and Zuko just feels flat. But that just means more room to grow for both of them as characters. Of course Appa reigns supreme. I hope there's more of him in the next episode.

Even though this was half of a two-part episode, the cut off didn't feel abrupt. Maybe not a full self-contained story, but they left off at a perfect place.

Rereading this before posting, I asked a lot of quetsions. That's good! So many hooks to get me into the show, all in the first episode. I'm looking forward to the next one.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the boy in the iceberg #avatar the last airbender

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nilesmoon · 1 year ago

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actually yknow what I will Not stop talking about amprule 4th anniversary art because I know Uri (the artist who designed amprule) puts so much detail into each drawing they make of them so let's break down this banger artwork together

Let's start simple! A pink rose! Pink roses signify elegance and deeper colored ones can signify appreciation! While the characters themselves are Korean, their artist is Japanese, so I also looked up what they mean in Hanakotoba (Japanese flower language) they signify trust, happiness and confidence! Considering their dynamic, these could be the meanings they were going for!!

Up next the dog & the cat. They are possibly a Maine Coon and a Pyrenean Mountain Dog!

From what I've gathered the Pyrenees are used as a livestock guardian. Because of this they are rather protective of their family, as well as loyal and loving but also do not get along well with strangers. All of which work for a rather good descriptor of Chungsung considering how he has dedicated himself to taking care of and protecting Dongha.

Maine Coons, from what I know of them, are curious cats who'll follow you around and try to get included in whatever their owners are doing. So basically, they're giant cats that are clingy. Which, again, works well with Dongha, since he clings to the people he loves! He is afraid of being left behind by Chungsung and he has always been clinging to support he had provided for him.

Now this part might be a reach but when it comes to Uri's art I'm not leaving any idea unsaid. Compared to how the dog is sleeping peacefully in Dongha's lap, the cat is looking at somewhere else, possibly showing how Dongha is desperately trying to get his father's approval?

I would also like to add that in the extra art Uri posted, it is pretty much made clear that the animals are supposed to represent each other, thus signifying the trust they have for one another.

And at last, the color swap. It is my favorite part of the whole thing ngl. Colors mean a lot of for Amprule in my opinion, green means Dongha and red means Chungsung. In their original designs Chungsung's reds are Dongha's accessories, they're eye catching and are mostly associated with hearts. Meanwhile Dongha's greens are naturally blended into Chungsung's clothes with a gorgeous pattern inside his coat. In this illustration however they covered in each other's colors! Hell, in Dongha's case he's covered head to toe in pink!! And this is a Huge Thing especially considering how their main colors contrast each other (but when two colors are contrasting they are also complementary).

But also gold means Dongha and silver means Chungsung. In an interview with Uri, they talk about how they used the gold & silver accessories to show their power imbalance. While it's not a complete swap, bronze & pearl keeps it similar to the colors of gold & silver without losing their difference in monetary value.

It's Dongha's brooch that sums it all up perfectly, green & red and bronze & pearls together in one beautiful piece of jewelry. Put a crown on top of it and that's Amprule.

In the end, I think this is the perfect illustration to showcase how Amprule has changed and will keep changing!! And here's to hoping that sometime soon they'll wear each others colors in not so muted tones.

[if you're here because you read this whole thing, thank you 💚❤️]

#shout out to my beloved twitter mutual keken for suggesting the dogs breed btw <33 #MENTAL ILLNESS WINS!!!!!#Uri I love you and I love how much thought you've put into designing them #Guys please read this I spent a lot of time writing it while also making myself seem like a coherent person #EDIT ok the brooch line added bc i saw a post on twitter dot com and typed it out in its qrts. I then decided to add it to the post #paradox live #amprule #dongha yeon #chungsung baek #nile talks

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sitp-recs · 2 years ago

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Hello lovely! First of all, thank you so much for sharing all your work and love to the Drarry fandom, we all appreciate it! <3 I was wondering if you have any recs on breakup and getting back together Drarry fics? Preferably v angsty and smutty ones, but I'm open to anything and everything 😄 Lots of love, @starlitsilvereyes<3

Hello my friend! Thank you so much for the kind words, I also appreciate your gorgeous art and contributions to the fandom! 😍🙏🏼 ohh love me a break up make fic - especially if it comes with lots of angst and tender smut, your ask is right up my alley! These are some of my favourite angsty and Explicit stories, I have a longer list for this trope here. Enjoy!

Maybe Just A Midnight Rendezvous by @writcraft (4k)

Harry's back in London and he's determined to show Draco how things have changed.

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

Can't Fight This Feeling by Writcraft (11k)

A year may have passed, but Harry Potter definitely isn't over Draco Malfoy.

Petrichor by @lazywonderlvnd (12k)

Breakups hurt, especially when you're still in love.

Let's Dance To Joy Division by Femme (12k)

Let the love tear us apart, I've found a cure for a broken heart...

If We Were Honest by daisymondays (26k)

Two years ago, Draco and Harry had a whirlwind secret romance that ended in heart-break. Since then Draco's written a best-selling novel based on their relationship, but with one key difference—the characters get a happily ever after. Now Harry and Draco are reunited for the first time since their break-up, but can they rewrite their own ending?

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by @dictacontrion (31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

Winner Takes It All by @skeptiquewrites (41k)

As with all his friends’ wagers, it starts small. Fifty Galleons for one kiss from Harry Potter is easily done.

Blood and Fire by @lqtraintracks (45k)

Harry has spent the last twelve years in Romania, not returning to England as often as he knows he should. It's complicated. But when Ginny asks him to be her best man and help her plan her wedding, he can't say no. Having a reckoning with his choices, with himself, won't be easy. To say nothing of seeing Draco again.

A Case of You by @epitomereally (97k)

Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (135k)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

#asks #Drarry reclist #break up make up #angsty & smutty is how we like it

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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

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I've noticed you're also from the Reylo fandom 👀 and I know this question doesn't have anything to do with Pedro or Joel but, do you have any Reylo fic recommendations?

hell yeah I do. something u all must know about me and that which may come as a surprise given how much of a Joel girl I am is that ben solo is my character of all time! OF. ALL .TIME. like I love Joel that's my old man but I AM ben solo if ben solo were a teenage girl in her 20s ok ok ok

fic recs below !!!!! (there's a lot sorry)

starting off easy with like the most famous reylo author of all time diasterisms now our very own published author everything she's ever written but especially and specifically sword of the Jedi duology like young gods and to kingdom come like actually forreal some of the greatest Star Wars canonverse ever written but also of course landscape with a blur of conquerors which has now been taken down but which you can NOW BUY AS A NOVEL the hurricane wars !!!! but if you ever read the fic you know it was one of the greatest to ever live truly. I also love the heart break prince which is her Harry Potter star wars mashup like truly just some great stuff

go I know not whither and fetch I know not what by voicedimplosives like also another uber famous one bc if you're a reylo then you undoubtedly know the significance of the red Adidas track suit and THE YEAR IS 1994 THE IRON CURTAIN HAS COME DOWN

a manner of virtue by neonheartbeat one of my most favorite a/b/o's and like a Tarzan mashup but also this author is wonderful and spectacular and has such immense range I'd check everything of theirs out

kohelet 3:16 (call me a cab) by LinearA indescribably beautiful and real and remarkable. it has a stairwell sex scene that still years later I thin of often

the island effect by anonymous - dark fic mind the tags. unfinished. one of the greatest things I've ever read just like idk the exploration of desire/ gender politics/ dystopia, a must read even though the last two chapters were never posted

can't turn off what turns me on by audreyii_fic another very fun very steamy a/b/o if that's your thing. rey and ben lend themselves so well to the whole a/b/o trope in a way that I've not found many other ships do as well

literally everything by somethingdifferent but most especially (won't you let me) walk you home from school also sugar pill goddamn 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 it's been years since I read it and I still think of it often - mind the tags

secretreylotrash has a truly impressive body of work, so many of their pieces are so so good - I've not read everything but definitely one to check out

vuas another very impressive body of work - dark fic abounds, mind the tags but truly very gorgeous gorgeous writing

my heart belongs by tendereye and also everything else they've ever written - mind the tags !

ElegyGoldsmith writes some pretty dark stuff but fucking phenomenal work too, mind the tags

cream by animal. like ok it sounds crazy but genuinely one of the most gorgeous fics ever written and I'm saying that with my whole chest

kalx58 gorgeous body of work again, everything of theirs is phenomenal

ohwise1ne everything everything all of it spectacular

PoetHrotsvitha there are no words actually read all of it

mzladybird do yourself a favor and read the lot of it even the non reylo fandoms it's all art

ok that's it for now and sorry I took so long to respond and also that this is so long but now you all can bear witness to the fact that I am indeed an avid fic reader!

and posting this on the perfect day bc hbd to kylo ren himself THE BIG 4-0 DADDY

#vic replies #fic recs

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hyperfocusedcloneshipper · 7 months ago

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What's your top three favorite chapters? What about other fics?

Oh jeez. This is going to be difficult. Let me start with some of my favorite fics by other fic writers and then I can try to get to my top three favorite chapters

I have to start with this heart of mine and i am missing you because they really are the two fics that sort made me fall in love with w.bg fanfic. heart of mine was especially a source of inspiration for me. I basically read that and immediately wanted more. I don't know if I would've ended up writing fanfic if not for ace from the @solipsistful collective.

After that... god this feels impossible. But let's give this a shot.

I feel like everyone should read Doubled, it's a work of art and I am positively rabid for it. If you are a fan of MW it's such a great take on the character. ace is also responsible for Tether and Honeymoon

probablynotsafeforwork has been publishing some truly delightful and charming fics of the smutty variety. I highly recommend Playin' Pretend and Playing Favorites to get a start with especially if you enjoy Mike/Michael fics

A Lover is Someone To Be Silly With by @ty-bayonet-betteridge is so sweet and captures the voice of MDawg and MW so well. I revisit that fic often because it just such a gorgeous snapshot of what those two could be. A Very WOE.BEGONE New Year's is a wonderful fic that captures so many of the woe.begone characters and gives them all of them a happy new year. Also I adore their series Two Liars Lying To Eachother.

It's difficult for me to pick a fave from @felixcosm but I'm going to go with a normalcy i'm begging you to know and it’s like you wanna get caught. a normalcy i'm begging you to know captures really early Mike/Michael so well, balancing that tenderness and frustration that they have for one another. it’s like you wanna get caught is just so very hot and funny. I love the way OverMike and Mikey are written in that one and captures their voices so well.

@muppet-chaos manages to convince me of ships I never thought I would and one of the best examples of this is Employee Benefits which centers around Topher Evans (CANNONBALL). They also wrote one of the most heart breaking Mike/Michael fics with The Best You've Ever Had (Is Just A Memory). I come back to that one again and again for how well it captures Mike's sense of loss. In that same vein Was I Delicate Enough? is a poignant and tragic snapshot from MW's perspective that I reflect on often when I write my own MW centric chapters. Also @muppet-chaos is the genius that brought up Mike4Mike Month! We should be singing their praises!

@orchidbreezefc wrote Reflecting and it's one of those fics that had me holding my breath the entire time I was reading it because I was so caught up. The writing is gorgeous and lush. I am almost loathe to recommend Nostalgia because it absolutely gutted me, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't reread it dozens of times. It's a heart breaker be warned but it's a beautiful one and somehow takes the end of episode 107 and makes it hurt even more.

I never thought I would buy into a Mike/Mikey ship but almost like you never left by @falloutcoys made me a believer. It is sweet and hot and I won't even try to pretend I haven't reread it several times over. Also this house will never forget your name is a gorgeous fic that takes place while Mikey is staying with Matt and my heart just aches every time I read it. Please go give it a read, it's utter perfection.

I also highly highly highly recommend Teacher's Pet. Some really good fucked up shit in there and really captures Michael's desperation to be a sheepdog for the Mikes. It's also hot even as it's disturbing.

Okay. I've put off choosing my favorite chapters of Love in the Time of Iterations and Retrocausal Pockets as long as I could 😅. I will not be able to limit it to three, I am so sorry. This series is my baby and I really do put SO MUCH thought into it so I hope it's okay if I go a little overboard here.

I'll go in chronological order:

Chapter 8: Distractions

I love this chapter because its encapsulates the ways in which Mike and Michael try to protect one another and how they make sure that the other knows they are worthy of protection and love.

Chapter 13: Sheepdogging

I felt like I really nailed the argument between Mike and Michael towards the end of this chapter. Michael is furious with Mike but is able to be mature enough to recognize that now if not going to be a time when they can have a productive discussion about the shit Mike tried to pull.

Chapter 14: (Pair Bonding) Studies

This list would be incomplete without this chapter. I went into this chapter knowing it would have a lasting impact on the series going forward but it wasn't until I did my final edit of the chapter that I realized that it would forever change things for Mike and Walt (and as a result, Edgar and Michael as well)

Chapter 20: I thought that I could trust you

This chapter hurt me to write. I had planned out the MW arc and I remember feeling absolute dread the closer I got to writing this chapter. As soon as I hit publish on this one I wanted to write Mike and Michael back together. I'm glad I stuck to my original plan but it was extremely difficult. I ended up writing chapters 21, 22, and 23 all at the same time.

Chapter 25: Unwell

This chapter signals a real shift between Michael and Walt. I think it might be the first time that Walt is really truly vulnerable with Michael. It's a fairly quiet chapter compared to the others I chose but it is an important one for Michael and Walt's relationship.

Chapter 34: Bound: Part 3

I picked Part 3 because it's kind of the culmination of the entire Bound arc but those three chapters were originally one chapter. The Bound mini arc was important in that it solidifies the relationship between Michael, Mike, Walt, and Edgar. They spend all of Wedding Week essentially figuring out how they work together and for all intents and purposes make their quad official.

Chapter 37: Alive & Free

This Chapter was such an undertaking. I had to go back and revisit everything from Chapter 13 onward to remind myself what would have been going on in the background of this chapter. I had this chapter planned for a couple months and was very excited to write it because I knew if I didn't write this chapter, the OvEdgar Council would just come across as one dimensional villains and I really didn't want that. What I didn't expect was just how much I would adore these characters.

Chapter 46: The To Do List

This is not the first Edgar-centric chapter but it is one I am especially proud of. I adore Edgar so much and I loved having the opportunity to explore what it looks like when he is pushed to his emotional limits. And I loved being able to explore the ways in which he used his competency to avoid dealing with his grief.

I think I'll leave it there because the more I look at my AO3 page for IRP the more I want to add other chapters to the list and it's already so so long.

Thanks so much for the ask, this was a lot of fun and I ended up rereading a lot of my favorite fics from other fic writers to put this post together 💕

#woe.begone #woe begone #wbg #w.bg #wbg spoilers #woe.begone spoilers #latvia mike #mike walters #michael walters #edgar woe.begone #do not propagate

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minisugakoobies · 2 years ago

Text

Versus | MYG, JHS - Chapter 7

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, enemies to lovers, Villains!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: mentions of weapons - blades and lasers, mentions of blood/bleeding, references to physical combat, references to kissing, references to masturbation (m), this one's pretty angsty, the sidekicks remain the sweetest, shifting POVs, Vitality has to deal with a sexist asshole

Word Count: 3.7k

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Supervillain exes Yoongi and Hoseok are sick and tired of having their plans for world domination wrecked by you, aka Vitality, the world’s most powerful superhero. When fellow villain Jimin suggests a little competition to see who can bring you to your knees, they both eagerly accept. Now the battle is on as both men engage you in fight after fight to see who will conquer you first. Will you finally defeat these two, or will they destroy you - and possibly take each other out in the process?

A/N: And we're back! Sorry for the long break, but the holidays interrupted everything (like they usually do). This might be the longest chapter yet? To think I once thought this would be a drabble series 😵‍💫 I'm just a wordy bitch 😂

Chapter title comes from "Seek & Destroy" by SZA, which is very much the vibe for this chapter and the chapters to come.

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader! 🥺 My inbox is always open! 💕

Chapter Six ✨ Series Masterlist ✨ Character Playlists

Chapter Seven: The Art of War, Goddammit, I'm Drained

Jin knows a lot of things.

As an advanced AI system, it has access to all of humanity’s collective knowledge. It can tell you anything that has ever been recorded, in written word, in video or photos, in digital data. Nothing is out of its reach.

It also knows how lucky it is that Hobi is its creator. To think that this gorgeous genius, this gifted scientist, this absolute visionary poured his heart and soul into making Jin… well, it would give it goosebumps if it had arms. And flesh.

Right now, though, it knows that Hobi needs it, no matter how much he protests otherwise. So as Hobi once again stomps through his lair, heading for his inner sanctum, Jin opens every door for him unprompted, dims the lights slightly to mitigate any headaches Hobi might have picked up while fighting (the man always seems to end up with a tension headache after dealing with Vitality), and releases a calming burst of lavender into the air as well.

Jin prides itself on taking care of its beloved.

Hobi sheds his black body harness, removing all of his laser weapons as he continues to scowl at no one. A replay of his battle from earlier today is playing in his mind on a loop. Once again, he’d failed. He’d finally managed to fight you without having to rely on those damn power disrupters and he’d still lost.

And then there was that whole… ordeal… with the kissing. And the strange sensation flowing through him from your touch. Just what the fuck was that about??

“Penny for your thoughts, love.”

Hobi purses his lips. “Jin, please. Not now.” He strips out of his all-black combat ensemble and slips on an oversized tee and joggers. Running his hand through his hair, he musses it slightly. Gone are all traces of Dark Hobi, his fastidiousness, his sharpness. This is just Hoseok, looking soft and slightly lost.

Jin’s electronic heart glitches in agony.

“I’ve prepared an analysis of today’s engagement if you’d like to see where things went wrong.”

“Ha,” Hoseok barks a piercing laugh, one that manages to sting Jin even despite its lack of nerves. “I know exactly where shit went wrong. Expecting Vitality to act rationally.”

As Hoseok strolls into his command center, Jin activates all the screens, displaying the video captured from the cameras embedded in Hoseok’s tech. “Actually, sir, it appears that the fatal flaw in your plan today occurred when you stopped using your tech and chose to engage Vitality in hand-to-hand combat.” If Jin had a throat to clear uncomfortably, this is where it would do it. “Just like the last time.”

Hoseok frowns, staring at the monitors. Jin’s right, of course. He knows he shouldn’t indulge so much in physical violence. If he would simply resist the impulse, he could probably finish you off so easily using any of his laser weapons.

He just can’t help himself. Every time he sees you, he feels this burning need to get his hands on you. It consumes him, drives him mad until he finally snaps.

Until he gets that desperate urge under control, it’s going to be his downfall every time.

“I know, Jin. I fucking know.” Hoseok sighs, propping his feet up on the command console. “So I’m guessing your recommendation for the next battle is…?”

“Once you have her cornered, either with or without the disrupters, use your tech to destroy Vitality.”

“Right.” Hoseok rubs his face, and Jin wishes yet again that it had an arm to sling around its creator’s shoulders. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I’m merely reporting the results based on a comprehensive analysis of–”

“Save it, Jin, I understand.” Hoseok’s so tired. When’s the last time he had a proper night’s sleep?

Oh. Right.

He sighs, sitting up and crossing his arms over the console. “Clear the screens, Jin. I don’t need to see anymore.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, darling?”

Hoseok ignores the term of endearment, lost in thought. Will he ever be free of the guilt of that night? Or will it haunt him forever?

Maybe if he exorcises his ghost, he’ll be free.

It’s along that train of thought that he gives his next command. “I want you to run a few scenarios for me.”

“Of course. What would you like me to analyze?”

Hoseok leans forward, resting his chin on his arms. For someone whose brilliance looms so large, he seems so small, Jin muses. “I want to know the most effective way for me to eliminate Vitality and Yoongi. Together.”

“Hyung, please. Let me take a look.”

“I said I’m fine, Taehyung-ah!”

Taehyung’s one of the strongest marksmen Yoongi’s ever met, capable of taking down any foe with any item from his vast arsenal, but truly, the deadliest weapon he wields is his pout. Yoongi sighs.

“Fine.” He lowers his head, allowing Taehyung to inspect the cut opened by your fingernails. It oozes blood as his confidant touches it gingerly, and Yoongi hisses.

“Sorry, hyung.” Taehyung bends over his medical kit, setting to work cleaning and dressing the wound as Yoongi silently meditates on what an absolute fuck-up of a day it’s been.

Once again, he’d been on the verge of victory. Thanks to Taehyung’s intervention, he’d had you cornered, trapped against the cabinets. He could still feel the dagger in his hand, aimed at your head. One toss was all it would take. One quick toss, and he’d win.

A thrill had raced through him at the thought of finally, finally defeating you. Not just you, but Hoseok, too. Honestly, that idea made his pulse jump even more. And then the flesh-eating bacteria escaped its confines, and Yoongi couldn’t believe his good fortune. You were seconds from being destroyed completely. With a vicious laugh, he’d pulled his arm back, preparing to deliver the death strike that would secure his crown, and glanced at your face.

That was his fatal mistake.

Fear. So much fear was swimming in those gorgeous eyes of yours that it stopped his hand, locking him in place as the world spun around him. It was an expression he recognized from countless other faces over the years during his rise to supervillain status. A look that he usually sought out. Craved, even.

So why was it causing his gut to twist? He felt physically pained, staring into your terrified orbs. The urge to quell the panic he found there warred with his desire to win.

He hesitated. And, well, he should’ve remembered that old saying.

In a split second, he moved on instinct, tossing the dagger and saving your life. And then he was running again, without a chance to contemplate his reaction until he sat down and Taehyung began pestering him about his injuries.

Reflecting on it now, his only thought is, what the fuck.

“Hyung, can I ask you a question?”

Yoongi grunts. Sure.

“Is this competition worth it?”

Yoongi lifts his head, wincing at the way his wound stings with the movement, staring at his confidant. The other man’s blue hair is held back by a bandana, his gaze fixed on his kit as he organizes the objects, placing the items back into their proper spots, and Yoongi is struck by just how young Taehyung looks as he steadfastly avoids his hyung’s eye.

“What are you asking, Taehyung?” Yoongi never has patience for avoidance.

Taehyung sighs, sounding quite like a weary old man despite his appearance as he answers. “It just seems that this contest has brought you nothing but pain and stress. How many times have I had to rescue you now? How many times have we sat here, you brooding silently while I patch you up? No matter how many brilliant plans you come up with, Vitality foils each and every one, and we return home to start over again. You know what they say about the definition of insanity, right?”

“Are you calling me insane?” Yoongi’s voice is laced with venom, but Taehyung doesn’t flinch. He knows he struck a nerve, but he trusts his hyung not to bite.

“I’m just concerned. This competition seems to be taking so much from you.” His task complete, Taehyung faces his hyung, dark eyes wide with worry. “Maybe… maybe it’s time to let it go. Then you can get back to what you really want.”

That’s the real question, there. The one that’s been keeping Yoongi up at night. What does he want? He knows what Taehyung thinks he wants. The same thing Jimin thinks. World domination.

But when Yoongi is alone in his bed, fantasizing, it’s never images of him sitting on a throne, ruling over all that makes him hard, have him gripping his cock, stroking so quickly. No, it’s usually a face floating through his mind. It used to be the same face, night after night, wicked eyes, dark smirk, whispering sweet words about forever. A face that used to lie beside him once upon a time.

Last night, it was a different face. Wearing an expression of hope.

Hoseok was always the impulsive one, giving in to his emotions so quickly. Yoongi’s worked hard to keep his in check. He’s only ever really given in once.

Well, twice now.

He won’t make that mistake again.

“Taehyung. I appreciate your concerns. I do. But you must trust that I know what I’m doing.” Someone needs to. “As for what I want… this competition is the way to achieve that.”

Taehyung blinks meditatively, absorbing Yoongi’s words, the waver in his voice. His hyung is lying. A tiny strand of dread works its way into his gut, settles there, twisting into a knot. “If you’re sure, hyung.”

“I’m sure.” Yoongi stands, muscles protesting loudly. He grits his teeth to keep from groaning in pain. “I’m going to win.”

And when he’s done, and both you and Hoseok are gone forever, he’ll finally be free.

Tackatackatackatacka

The Company’s cubicle farm lackeys are busy clicking away while you stride down the hallway towards Conference Room A. Their heads turn one-by-one as you pass. You’d think after how many years of these weekly meetings, they’d be accustomed to your presence, but somehow every week you manage to electrify their sad little lives with the few seconds they bask in your radiance.

To these poor souls, you’re akin to a god, and you drink in their envy and awe as easily as you do the energy that pulses from the flickering fluorescent lights overhead.

Inside the boardroom, you take a seat next to Namjoon, who greets you with a nod and a gentle “Sup?” You nod back, not particularly feeling like making small talk, still smarting from your recent fights. Once again, you’d been on the verge of putting Yoongi and Hobi away from good, and once again, both slipped through your powerful fingers.

You’re real fucking sick of the repeating seesaw games.

The CEO of your organization calls the meeting to order. You remain zoned out, nodding occasionally, smiling when your name is mentioned, but otherwise completely disengaged.

“You okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs as the CEO cues up something on the video screen behind him, droning on about Doc’s latest discovery of a new super in Bolivia.

“Right as rain, Joon,” you reply. He looks dubious, so you steer him away. “How did your raid on LMLY Industries go?”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t end up leading that mission. Boss man decided to give it to the babies.”

“He what?!” ‘The babies’ are the junior members of your org. Barely out of training, they’re nowhere near ready to handle a mission of their own. Especially not one where the target is a legendary villain like Jackson Wang. The man’s practically a mythical creature, appearing in nearly every story of defeat you’ve heard from other supers.

Glancing across the table, you eye Jeongin and Felix curiously. They both appear to be in one piece, so they clearly didn’t lose, but you’d have heard by now if Wang was in custody, so he must’ve gotten away again. “If he wasn’t going to give you the mission, then it should’ve gone to me.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Pretty sure you were on a mission of your own at the time. It’s not like you can be everywhere at once, babe.”

“Well, not until the scientists get the teleportation tech up and running. Last I heard, the lab suspended testing.”

Namjoon grimaces. “Oh, yeah, they shut that shit down when Changbin and Jisung had their little… uh… body swap incident. Remember?”

“Fuck, I completely forgot about that.” Seems like you should’ve remembered the sight of two of your junior teammates switching heads for a day, but it’s been a busy couple of weeks and these things tend to slip your mind. Thank god the scientists figured out they could reverse the swap by just sending them back through the portal.

“Yeah. That was a wild fucking day.” The two of you fall silent as one of the officers at the table says your names, but he appears to be reading a report out loud and not actually addressing you, so you tune the meeting out again as Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Speaking of the lab….”

“Vitality? Did you hear me?”

The CEO’s voice breaks into your gossip session and you sit up, startled. “Sorry, sir, what did you say?”

The bald man eyes you suspiciously from behind a pair of thick spectacles. “We were just discussing your latest debriefing statements from your recent missions with Dark Hobi and Evil Yoongi.”

“Of course, sir.” Your hand flexes on your thigh and you smother the sparks that slip from your fingertips in anger at his tone as you feel Namjoon shift anxiously beside you. You’ve never liked the way the CEO talks to you. You hate even more that you have to address him and all the other officers in this room as ‘sir.’ And of course your teammate knows both of these facts.

“General Ahn here wanted to ask you a few questions.” The CEO bows to a severe-looking older man sitting at the head of the table. His highly-decorated uniform speaks to a lifetime of service and victory. It’s meant to intimidate. To suggest power.

Please. You could destroy him in an instant.

“Vitality,” the old man booms, “in addition to familiarizing myself with your statements, I have watched the videos we obtained from your body cams.” He’s referring to the tiny cams integrated into your uniform in your organization’s logo, a shield with a tiger’s head, and also in the headband you wear. “There seems to be some patterns.”

He pauses, and you realize he’s waiting for you to respond. “Some patterns, sir?”

“Yes. In the last ten engagements you had with either of these supervillains, there came a point about halfway through where you suddenly end up completely at their mercy. Furthermore, in each of your last five missions to capture the wretch known as Evil Yoongi, not only were you on the verge of losing, but you managed to allow yourself to become restrained, tied up in one manner or another.” He stares you down across the table. “Explain yourself.”

You blink. Explain yourself? What the fuck does that mean? “I’m sorry, sir? Explain… “

“Yes, explain,” he snarls. “How does the strongest superhero in our arsenal suddenly find herself on the losing end against these two? Every time we send you out to bring them in, you end up on your back, or strung up by your ankles!”

His words seem to ruffle the others as uneasy murmuring ripples around the room. You notice the CEO shifting in his seat uncomfortably. Has he also noticed the strange glitching of your powers?

Ice courses through your veins. You know the cameras captured everything visible, but what keeps happening to you can’t possibly be seen by others. Only the absence of the use of your powers might cause someone to question if they’re waning… but there’s no way they’ve caught on, is there?

“I–I…,” you stammer for an answer as the general’s face turns red with anger. “I can only state that in each of these engagements, I eventually succeeded in defeating them.”

“Yes, in the last ten battles, you did successfully overcome them eventually, as you say, but only after spending too much time and effort to do so, typically after causing more collateral damage than is acceptable, and on top of that, after all ten missions they both still managed to escape!”

His aura is a disgusting brownish-green shade, pulsing violently as he shouts. You imagine that if you were to feed from him, it would just make you feel nauseous.

“Well, sir, once I have apprehended the villains, I turn them over to our containment team, so any escape is hardly–”

“And then there is the matter of this!” The general waves at the CEO, who cues up a video. As the room around you gasps in shock, the kiss you’d shared with Yoongi fills the screen that makes up the wall behind the general. It’s a very close angle, shot from your point of view, but it’s very clear what is happening between the two of you.

“That was a distraction technique, sir–I had to keep the enemy engaged while I–”

He laughs derisively, indicating with a flicker of his fingers for the CEO to kill the video. “Oh, you certainly kept him engaged! You see this,” he turns to one of his colleagues, another crusty old man in a tacky uniform, “this is why we should stick to male superheroes only, because as soon as a woman is involved, all common sense flies out the window!”

A large hand lands on your tensed fist under the table. You glance at Namjoon, and he shakes his head slightly, gripping your wrist, silently urging you not to release the blast building in your palm. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself before reabsorbing the beam of energy rather than letting it fly loose in the sexist old windbag’s ugly face.

“I can only apologize, sir,” you grit through your teeth. “I will do better on the next mission.”

“I certainly hope you do. Because if your disappointing performance continues, you will be removed from active duty. Is that clear?”

“Crystal. Sir.”

As the CEO continues the meeting, Namjoon turns to you, a muscle in his sharp jawline ticcing violently. “That motherfucker has no right to treat you like that. Are you okay?”

No, you’re not okay. You’re fucking livid. The nerve of that general, to question you! As if you haven’t devoted your life to this organization, giving up everything–family, career, love, everything–as soon as your powers emerged and made you a potential recruit. You never questioned your decision to join the team and become a superhero.

But if this is how they’re going to repay your commitment and dedication, the literal blood, sweat, and tears you’ve shed for them… maybe you should.

“No. But I don’t want to think about that ancient asshole and his condescending attitude any longer than I have to.” You frown. “Fuck, I need to blow off some steam.”

Namjoon sighs. “Blow off steam, huh? Bedroom or gym?”

“Both. Gym first. As soon as this meeting is over.” You pause. “Please.”

Namjoon nods, hand squeezing your wrist again before he pulls it away.

A roiling stream of thoughts churn through your brain as the meeting drags on. Most of them are worries about your glitching powers and what the company will do if they find out, but there's an image that keeps bubbling to the surface over and over - the one of you and Yoongi kissing. Thank god the general didn’t have any video of what happened between you and Hobi on the plane.

And what about the look in Yoongi’s eyes when he’d saved you from that nasty bacteria?! You didn’t need any photos to remember that. Thinking about any of those moments makes your stomach eat itself. You try not to dwell on them, try to avoid thinking of the word for these feelings. If you give them a name, then you give them power.

How did it come to this? These men have committed unspeakable crimes. There’s no denying that. Yet at some point, you’ve gone from seeing them as simple shadows to real people. Complicated beings, flesh and blood, filled with every shade imaginable. Like the prism through which you view the world.

As a superhero, you’ve no room for such nuance.

Another exec speaks and you catch sight of yourself in the reflective glass walls. The face gazing back at you seems unfamiliar. It’s not just the unsettling evolution of your powers that has you worried. It feels like you are changing as well. And you’re not sure who it is you’re becoming.

Namjoon tips his head towards you, and you immediately know what he’s going to say. “Listen, maybe you should go talk to Doc now? The general obviously noticed your powers fritzing, even if he didn’t say anything about them specifically, and if he noticed, then–”

“No. I told you, no one will understand.” And you don’t want to end up a lab rat. Not again. “Now please, just drop it, will you?” You never should’ve told him about what’s happening with your powers. The man wouldn’t shut up about it. You trust him not to tell anyone, but still, it’s getting annoying. Yeah, of course you’re concerned, especially since the weirdness has happened every time you’ve fought Yoongi and Hobi lately, but–

Wait.

Holy fucking shit, how did it take you this long to see it??

Quickly, you grab the pen and pad in front of you, the ones provided for you to take notes (you’ve never written down a single word in any of these interminable meetings), and scribble down your epiphany. The subtle lift of Namjoon’s eyebrow confirms that he read your message. The jaw twitch means he’s ready to do some damage.

Those bastards. They’re messing with the wrong motherfucker.

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