#also this guy is SO exactly the kind of character I love

[yumeka-sxf]

After the exciting start of a new Garden arc last time, today's new chapter did not disappoint either! First thing I noticed upon reading is - Yor's new outfit! (though you're not being very discreet with that "Garden" badge 😅)

Also that little lemur guy in the upper left of the panel is like "Wtf?!" I would think that too if a person suddenly leaped onto the tree branch next to me 🤣 (you can see him scurrying away in the next panel underneath...nice little detail from Endo there.)

Before I get into specifics of this chapter, I wanted to analyze the exchange between Yor and Hemlock in the jeep - namely, the Hemlock/Nightfall parallel, with Hemlock accusing Yor of losing her edge due to "playing house" for too long, which is exactly what Nightfall said to Twilight when she first appeared.

This made me think of an interview with Endo that was shared in the recent iterations of the SxF exhibition that's going on in Japan: when asked which character has changed the most in the series so far, he said Yor while also mentioning that Loid has barely changed. And I can see why that's the case with how Yor responded to Hemlock. Her experience during the cruise arc made her understand her own development - that now more than ever she wants to continue her work because she has more people she desires to protect.

She actually recognizes her own change and embraces it, while Loid...still hasn't gotten there yet. If we compare this exchange between Yor and Hemlock with the one between Loid and Nightfall, Loid clearly doesn't have this same self recognition about how living with the Forgers has changed him. He either genuinely doesn't know or he's in denial, which is why Nightfall is the one who points it out, and even when she tells him, he doesn't have a response.

One could argue that this may have been the case in old chapters, but ever since the mole hunt arc, he has recognized himself how he's changed. I do agree that the mole hunt arc made him realize that he's "softening" in a way, but he sees this as a detriment more than anything else. Unlike Yor who sees how her love for the Forgers has made her stronger, Loid sees it as something that will make him weaker rather than fuel his resolve.

We haven't seen much of Loid's deep inner thoughts since the end of the mole hunt arc, so only time will tell if he'll start to see his own development as something to be accepted rather than pushed away (just a note that I don't have a specific link for this part of the interview, but Fasionnessutsu shared screenshots of it in a thread here).

But anyway, back to other thoughts about this chapter, it was no surprise that even though Yor and McMahon changed into these safari-looking outfits, Hemlock is still wearing his suit. Why am I not surprised someone like him would totally refuse to wear that? 😂

And omg, the fact that Yor is still hung up about the "welcome home" kiss 😂 The fact that she's so earnest about it all this time later means...something, lol.

Also McMahon having a wife...it was kind of vague here but I wonder if she knows about his undercover work? Probably not, but would be interesting to see how much of his marital situation mirrors Yor's.

We apparently got another minor character introduced in this chapter - McMahon's pet falcon (and scouting assistant) Keekee.

In the Japanese version he calls her "Kiki-chan," with "kiki" being the sound she makes. It's nothing big, but I just found it amusing that a stoic, no-nonsense guy like McMahon calls his pet bird "-chan" 😅

The flower that Damian and company found has returned! I mentioned in my last chapter post that it may have some connection to Anya's past - we'll see!

This chapter ends on quite the cliffhanger, with Hemlock attacking Yor because, according to him, she's an impediment to his work and he's allowed to get rid of such impediments. We've already seen several examples of how quick to kill he is. Compared to Yor who tries her best to only kill "bad guys," Hemlock's first notion for anything in his way is to kill, whether it's the deer he's supposed to protect, or a fellow assassin he thinks is dragging him down.

Again, there's parallels that can be drawn between him and Nightfall, but unlike Nightfall whose obsession is fueled by idolizing Twilight, Hemlock's obsession seems to be fueled by animosity for Yor. Where that animosity came from is something we'll hopefully see in upcoming chapters. My theory is that, at some point, Hemlock idolized Yor and is now upset that she seems to have "softened," or he's always been jealous of her and now is even more enraged that she's not taking her job seriously anymore. Whatever the case is, I look forward to seeing how it plays out 👀

[enjakey]

Through Plastic Screens

Pairing: Niki x Fem!Reader

Old fic (8k) being reposted AGAIN. Not plagiarised guys, it’s the same person. I literally cry every time I reread this. It’s gotta be one of my favourite fics I’ve written.

There’s so much yearning, so much slow burn- and I chose to hurt myself by writing this.

Summary: in which Niki, enhypen’s baby, falls in love with a fan, Y/N. And somehow, through all the tribulations of life, they stay in touch. Calls, texts, videos and pictures- it was all they ever knew of each other, how they fell in love. But how long would this last, pining for each other through plastic screens? But they refuse to leave each other’s lives- even ten years later, when they’re old enough to get married and have stable careers.

Read the extra HERE

I

There were many things about Y/N that Niki admired. He liked her habit of twirling locks of her hair around her finger whenever she spoke nervously, the ritual serving her endearing and beautiful features. He liked how her hair fell to her waist in waves that reminded him of a sunny day on the beach and palm trees with coconuts. He liked the twinkle in her eyes while she spoke to him, myriad anecdotes and jokes hidden behind her irises to share. He liked her fingers, supple and lean while he held them with cautious and almost shaky hands. He also liked her sense of fashion, simple and clean with the smallest pops of vibrant and neon colours that appeared in her jewellery or her shoes.

Then there was her laugh, joyous and juvenile whenever he made a joke yet the back of her hand would always hide her smile, which he imagined was captivating as well. He thought her voice was enchanting, casting some sort of spell on him that made him repeat every syllable she had ever spoken in his head like a beautiful broken tape record; like he had found his new favourite song and would listen to it on repeat until he got sick of it and would wait until he heard her say more sentences that he could repeat in his head. He found it fascinating that she wanted to study planetary sciences once graduating high school, making him realise she was smart and ambitious with great hopes for the future.

He could tell she was a shy girl by the way she would be at a loss of words with some of the things he said. He could also tell that she was the type of person to have very few friends by the way she talked about school and any experiences she thought to mention. He wasn’t judging her, but rather applauding her kind and caring personality, a personality built so graciously out of rose petals and tufts of clouds. He knew, just by the way she listened to him intently with curious eyes, that she was the girl that jumped to help any friend in need. And he also knew that she didn’t have anyone in her life who would be there for her when she needed it, regardless of whether she asked for support or not.

While talking to her, he felt like he was her knight in shining armour. He held her hand between his palms and he felt as though he was protecting her from all the misery anyone would and could bring her throughout the rest of her life. Her violet sundress was suddenly transformed into a period gown and her hair was curled to perfection, styled into what he would imagine princesses and queens used to wear back in the days of royalty. He felt as though they were riding away into the sunset on a horse, hand in hand while her sweet laughter of relief echoed into the background. She looked at him like he was a saviour, her saviour, and he wished to play that character for longer than he would be an idol.

Niki noticed and thought of everything previously mentioned in the span of eight minutes. If he was forced to be precise, it was exactly seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds. It was the total amount of time he had ever spent with her and there was little to no chance he would meet her, or see her, ever again. Because he met Y/N during an off-line fan signing and he found himself being swept off his feet by a simple conversation with a girl almost his age, visiting Korea with her parents for vacation and making use of her only chance to meet the members of her favourite boy group. By his luck, he just so happened to be her favourite member- her bias.

There wasn’t a time in his career of being a kpop idol that he felt insecure. He had always known that he was attractive, fitting the standards of modern male beauty which were enhanced by the mole on his chin and his boxy smile. But that day, after he got home from the fan-signing, Niki spent hours staring at himself in the mirror, brushing his fingers over his chin and nose and jawline, wondering if he truly was attractive and worthy enough to be favorited by Y/N and wondering if she only biased him in their similarities in age and nothing else. His hands carded through his hair, letting it fall messily past his forehead and temples and assessing whether it suited him or not and recalling if the wind had ruined it all while he was talking to her. He hoped and prayed to God, someone he didn’t even believe in, that she didn’t regret meeting him that day and that she was more in love with him by the end of their interaction because he was being himself, saying things most people would say to an old friend with trust and security and comfort. He felt comfortable around her, free like he could be himself without the curse of judgement looming over him. And he smiled freely and naturally with her without the presence of awkwardness like it was with everyone else he met that day. He could sense her aura, this pull about her that made him feel like he could do and say anything in front of her and she wouldn’t think of him any less.

He hoped his judgement of character wasn’t wrong.

Niki was part of a couple of offline fan signings till now. He had met a lot of people- girls who squealed at the sight of him and complimented him every chance they got, but he never met someone like Y/N . He never met anyone that could intrigue and endear them as much as she did, fluster him with a bat of her eyelids and a tilt of her head. He didn't think eyes of curiosity could have such a hold on him, pushing and encouraging him to speak more about himself due to the care and solace that lay underneath. A part of him was convincing himself that he would meet more girls like her as he lived on. He would meet more people like her and make him want to be himself and that people like her could be found anywhere if he simply looked in the right places. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised how that person wouldn’t be Y/N . They wouldn’t have the same hair as her or the same smile, skin, nose and eyes. He just wanted it to be Y/N.

He spent weeks thinking about her, hoping to bump into her every time he walked into a convenience store or travelled past a tourist attraction and looked around to see if he could spot her posing somewhere while her parents took pictures of her. He even bought her a necklace from one of those stalls on the streets, thinking it would be a romantic gesture if he gave it to her the next time he’d see her. But alas, no matter how much he wished to catch another glimpse of her or hear her voice for another second, Y/N was probably back in whichever country she came from and all he was left with was her name and an exchange that lasted seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

Between the third week of Niki wishing for Y/N , sadness had crashed into him like a wave, along with the tides of realization that his emotions would forever stay unrequited and unconfessed. He would brood over his schedules and drag himself around with a frown or heavy eyes. His shoulders were often slumped and his enthusiasm while playing video games with Heeseung or Jake disappeared. His only form of distraction and an outlet for his frustration became dancing, as it always had been since he was a child, and he found himself spending extended hours in the dance studio, running and jumping and even yelling throughout choreographies. It was like one day he was a boy filled with so much hope and love and now he was grieving over something that never was.

His change in behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. The management once scolded him for not showing enough enthusiasm during a V-Live and the rest of the members became officially concerned when he let the chance to make a perfectly timed joke slip by. It was painful watching the boy tut and sneer at things that would normally bring him joy- gaming, food, football and even watching horror movies with Sunoo. Every night he would come home, he would mumble his greetings to anyone else in the house and go straight to bed. Sometimes he'd skip dinner, other times he'd skip breakfast and on days where his schedule was empty, he'd lay in bed all day, watching a show while not even bothering to shower.

It took two days for Jay to beat out a confession from Niki, where he finally cried out his longing for a girl that was equivalent to a stranger. He weeded and sobbed and his eyes grew red and puffy and his body trembled while he dealt with emotions he couldn't understand because it was all so unfamiliar, so unheard of for someone to manifest such deep sentiment towards strangers. Y/N was equivalent to a girl he'd find attractive walking down the street and she was equivalent to any classmate of his he remembered from kindergarten yet here he was, curled up into a ball while his Hyung patted his head and told him that feeling confused and lost was an appropriate reaction to the predicament he put himself in.

The seven of them convinced the management to let them go out for dinner that night. They went to a Korean Barbeque not too far into the city, one which Niki used to always say he wanted to try out. Two guards stood in front of their table, standing high and mighty to make sure no one but the waiters interacted with them. The restaurant was fairly bustling, smoke filling the atmosphere along with the smell of grilled pork and lamb. From the corners of their eyes, they could tell some of the other customers recognised them, feeling sneaky cameras pointing toward them and groups of college students snickering and whispering about their presence.

Niki was talkative after a long time, contributing to whatever topic Jake was spouting about and making fun of Sunghoon when he got the chance. He ate properly after a long time, even accepting when Sunoo reached over the table to feed him enoki mushrooms. He seemed like himself after a long time and he was confiding in them, telling them about Y/N and the little things he could recall about her- her dangly earrings, silver chain around her wrist and neck and pastel yellow nails. Then he told them about his pining for her, how he spent hours trying to look for her on social media and how he carried around the necklace he bought for her in hopes of finding her someday.

“Do you have it with you right now?” Jungwon asked out of curiosity.

Niki nodded, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a slim silver chain with the pendant of a vibrant sunflower. It reflected against the tube lights hanging above them, twinkling and mirroring shades of yellow onto the white wall. The group was awed at the piece of jewellery, wondering how much it must have cost and hoping it wouldn’t go to waste. They gasped even louder when they were told that he bought it from a street vendor.

“This is stupid, right?” he said as Jungwon took the necklace from him, allowing Jay and Heeseung to admire it with him. “I mean, I’ve only known her for eight minutes and I’m so head over heels for her. Like, I’ve got to be stupid.”

“Yeah, you’re like the twenty-first-century Romeo,” Jake snickered, clicking his chopsticks together before earning a slap on the arm from Sunoo.

“Someone tell me I’m stupid,” Niki drooped his shoulders and looked around the group.

Jay cleared his throat, swallowing the last of his food. “You’re stupid,” he deadpanned and narrowed his eyes.

“Ok, that didn’t help,” Niki rolled his eyes and slumped into his seat.

“Dude, if you wanna get over her, the first thing you need to do is get rid of that necklace,” Sunoo pointed his chopsticks at Niki, a look of promise and determination on his face.

“Why would that work?” Niki asked.

“It’s like a form of cleansing,” Sunoo enthused, his voice softening as his hands. Everyone turned to look at him, some fighting the urge to laugh and others furrowing their brows in confusion. Upon noticing this, Sunoo raised his brows and tutted. “I’m serious! It’s the first step of letting go. Once Niki throws the necklace away, he’ll feel like he doesn’t owe her anything anymore and he can start to slowly move on from her.”

“And where did you get this from?” Sunghoon threw his head back in laughter. “From some k-drama?”

“No,” Sunoo jutted his bottom lip forward, puffing his cheeks. “My sister,” he looked down as though he was embarrassed as the rest of them burst into laughter.

“So you want me to throw this necklace away?” Niki confirmed and Sunoo nodded.

Jake was now holding the necklace, holding it towards the light and admiring it as though it was a crystalline diamond. The petals were a flaxen yellow, its small stem and leaf drenched in lush green. “This is a beautiful necklace, though,” he mumbled but was ignored as everyone was caught up in convincing Niki to throw it away and start anew. They were bustling like bees, arguing and urging in hushed noises so the guards wouldn’t hear while Niki sat silently, appalled by the only choice he was given.

“But what if I do see her again?” He reasoned.

“But do you really think it will happen?” Heeseung asked. “If you wholeheartedly do, then fair enough,” he shrugged.

“A huge part of me knows I’ll never see her again,” Niki sighed, looking to his side. “But I keep hoping that maybe fate will bring us together, you know? Like she’s not the only girl I’ve ever liked but she’s the only girl I’ve ever felt so strongly for. Isn’t it so pathetic of me? Right now, I’m wishing that she’ll walk through that door…”

Just then, the ring of the entry bell cut through Niki’s cinematic speech. For an instant, the entire restaurant ceased to silence and Niki’s gaze drifted towards the door. He first noticed a hand that held the door open, then her hair which was swaying to the side as she looked over her shoulder. Then she stepped into the restaurant, a smile glimmering under white lights and when her face came into view, Niki’s mouth parted, chin gapping as he soaked in the reality of the moment. The rest of the group turned in the direction he was looking, Sunghoon nudging Jake’s side so he would look away from the necklace and at the girl standing three tables away from them. All eyes were on her and Niki was shifting off his chair, slowly standing on his feet with mesmerised eyes and parted lips, an arm lifting so his finger could meekly point towards her.

“Y/N,” he breathed.

By hearing that, Jake’s brows raised, eyes widening with a gaping mouth. His chopsticks pointed at the necklace held in his hand and then at the girl everyone was staring at, his gaze focused on Jungwon who nodded enthusiastically, confirming his doubt. Sunghoon looked between Niki and Y/N , wondering what would happen next and Heeseung looked amazed, thinking about how the boy’s wish practically came true. It was too much of a coincidence, one that would go down the history book of romance. They all might as well be the side characters to a k-drama, watching the hero finally meet the heroine after an unfortunate incident.

“Y/N?” Niki’s head tilted to the side, brows furrowing like he was confused, refusing to accept that after four weeks of looking and wishing and pining she was standing right there, in front of him, under the same roof as him, breathing the same air scents as him.

She was dragging her parents to a table on the other end of the restaurant, a waiter guiding them with welcoming smiles and handing them an English menu. Niki’s eyes followed them as they took their seats. Y/N was smiling like she was on top of the world, hair bouncing around as she talked about something that made her father laugh and her mother shake her head in disappointment. She had on a different pair of earrings, as far as he could see, but she wore the same rings, bracelets and necklace from the last time he saw her.

“Am I dreaming?” Niki said, blinking profusely and pinching himself to feel some sort of sensation- he flinched and yelped in surprise. “Am I seeing things?”

“Is she wearing white jeans and a white tank top with designs of some anime character in red?” Jay raised a brow.

“Yeah.”

“She’s real,” he patted Niki’s back twice.

“Y/N!” Niki snatched the necklace away from Jake’s hand and sped away from the table. Sunghoon and Jungwon called out for him but nothing but her laugh was audible to him as he jogged towards her with no clear aim or plan in his head.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to her and he didn’t know how he was going to introduce himself to her parents without sounding like a love-struck idiot. All he knew was that he was impatient to speak to her again, to hear her words directed towards him and hear her laugh at his jokes and pick-up lines. His wishes were finally coming true, all the energy he spent drooping and whining over finally becoming worth something and as he came closer to her, his smile grew wider, a youthful excitement hovering over his head as his heart beat faster than it did while performing in front of a crowd of millions.

His signature boxy smile appeared on his face when he finally reached her table, chest heaving up and down as he tried catching his breath. Y/N noticed him with wide eyes, a tinge of fear flashing across her eyes when her parents turned their heads to find a tall boy dressed in swanky clothes with styled hair. “Niki?” She said, stunned by his presence.

“Hi,” he said, waving his hand at the group of three.

“Who are you?” Her father pointed a mean finger at him, silently asking him to walk away.

“Is he from that boy band you went to meet?” Her mother spoke softly, eyes darting between her dumbfounded daughter and awkward celebrity that was equivalent to a stranger.

“Yeah, he is,” Y/N cleared her throat. “You’re… why? How? I don’t even know what to say… why are you here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Niki said, frankly. He gulped down a lump in his throat while he tried ignoring the flashing glares her father gave him.

“What is going on?” He demanded.

“I don’t know!” Y/N brought her palms to her temples, feeling a rush of blood flow to her cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please?” Niki met Y/N ’s eyes for the first time that night and time seemed to slow for a second. His eyes were glassy, her words stuck in her throat.

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat and hastily apologised to her parents. “I’ll be back.”

Niki pulled Y/N out of the restaurant by her hand and she followed him while almost tripping on her feet. They stood near one of the windows, looking at one another for a few seconds, pacing around their feet. It was chilly and she shivered, teeth clattering as she wrapped her arms around herself. To keep her mind distracted from the fact that she was standing in front of her idol, her celebrity crush, she thought about how she should have listened to her mother and worn something with full sleeves and gotten a jacket.

“Are you cold?” He asked while removing his trench coat. “Here,” he said, handing it to her, comfortably standing in the cold with a shirt and knitted vest.

“Niki… what is all this?” She took the jacket from him, gaze not leaving his as she put it on and hugged it against her torso. “Normally, I would take a minute to be talking to you because you’re a kpop star and all that and honestly, any girl would be freaking out at the moment and even I am internally but I’m also really confused because you still remember my name and I didn’t think you would remember my name because you have more important things to remember and it’s really an honour-”

“You’re blabbering,” Niki grinned, tilting his head downwards so he could get a better look at her. He was towering over her, his hair falling onto his forehead and hands stuffed into his pockets to form an infatuated aura about him. She was also intimidated by him, her nerves only being eased by the jacket covering her arms. “Do you do that when you’re nervous?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. She was fighting the urge to meddle with her hair because if she did, then the jacket would loosen around her and she would feel cold. Instead, she would occasionally brush stray strands of her hair away from her hair.

“That’s alright. And please, call me Riki instead”

Niki didn’t know what to say anymore. The girl of practically his dreams was standing in front of him and he had all the freedom to do or say whatever he wanted but he didn’t know how to. He was shy, even embarrassed by his emotions as he looked at the girl in front of him, wondering how he was going to explain what he had been feeling for the past four weeks. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the rest of his members trying to stealthily peek at the pair from the window and he almost scowled.

She noticed the change in his expression and she looked over to find that all of them were there. Jay and Sunghoon were seated closest to the window so she could see them clearly eyeing them, observing their every move. Behind them were Jake, Sunoo and Jungwon and she could catch a glimpse of Heeseung nudging himself closer to the window so he could watch what the youngest of them was doing and acting. Realising that Y/N had caught them peeping, they all turned away and attempted to pretend like they had been eating and minding their own business all along.

“Oh, God,” she said, turning back to him in panic. “This just makes me more nervous. They’re all watching? Holy shit-”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Niki frantically shook his hands in front of him. “You don’t need to be nervous, they don’t mean any harm. I can take you to meet them if you’d like?”

“No, that’s really not necessary,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I’m a bit too shy for that.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “They all still remember talking to you during that fan signing, too.”

“Really?” she awed.

“Yeah, really.”

“It’s a miracle I’m not freaking out right now,” she grinned, leaning her head to the side. “So, why did you want to speak to me anyway?”

“Well,” Niki started, looking to his feet as he formed his words in his head.

“What is it?” She urged.

“I don’t know how to put this easily.”

“Well, then, just say it how you’re comfortable with it. You dragged me outside so you might as well just say it,” she chuckled with comforting eyes, her toothy smile soothing his nerves.

“Y/N , I really like you.”

Niki didn’t know how he let the words roll off his tongue so nonchalantly but he supposed his confidence made him look more attractive. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and darted his eyes around the changes in her face. Her brows slowly raised as she comprehended his words and her eyelids fluttered before her eyes grew to the size of baseballs. Her mouth opened and closed in repeat like she wanted to say something or spew out words of puzzlement but she couldn’t bring herself to. In the end, she was a stuttering mess, eyes glued to him and scared to shift her gaze.

“And I’d really like it if we could meet again tomorrow,” Niki added, in hopes of getting an answer from her.

There was a loud silence that followed. Y/N ’s mouth zipped shut and she pushed another lump of dread down her throat. A breeze blew past them, swaying their hair and bringing a few dried leaves to circle around them. It truly felt as though they were transported into a cliche scene from a romantic k-drama where the hero and heroine would be caught up in some quarrel but would end their argument by confessing their feelings for each other. But this was reality, as much as it felt like a dream, and the universe usually worked against the bigger pictures they dreamt for themselves.

“Riki, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

II

In the five years Niki worked as a kpop idol, he had met many people from celebrities and influential members of politics and media to the fans that he adored so much and in those five years, Y/N was the only friend he made that wasn’t part of his group. He had known her for a little over three years, their friendship solely based on physical interactions that lasted a whopping seventeen minutes, texts that went on for days and calls that started in the middle of the night and ended by sunrise. At the end of every day, despite their differences in time zones, they would text each other about their days, giving each other an insight into the most mundane details of their schedules and families. If Niki wasn’t tired and if Y/N was free, they would call during his night and her afternoon, sometimes watching a movie together or talking about something that would be deemed irrelevant the next hour.

Calls and texts were rare and if it weren’t for Y/N ’s patience and understanding nature, they probably wouldn’t even be friends. She cherished every moment she could spend with him, caring for him in the only form she could through the plastic screens of her phone and laptop. She would check on him every once in a while, listen to him when he ranted about homesickness or the hecticness of his schedule and she even sent him care packages every six months. The sunflower pendant he bought for her all those months ago never left her neck and the jacket he let her borrow would be on her shoulders every time winter came. Niki would update her about his day through random pictures and snippets of videos he would take in between work and travelling. He also had a habit of sending terribly long voice notes filled with conversations between him and some of the other members. There was a bracelet of hers that she had given him the last time they met. The black and white beads stayed on his wrist no matter where he went or what he was wearing. It was little things like such that kept them close despite the distance between them and despite going days or weeks without speaking sometimes. They had the type of friendship that people wished they had, the type of friendship teenagers would grow jealous over.

Yet, Niki was always disappointed with how their relationship never progressed from friends.

In all honesty, he knew they would never work out as a couple. His career in the kpop industry strengthened and monumented by the day and he was already starting to make plans for his future for the days when he wouldn't be performing on stage and recording albums anymore. There lay a lot of pressure on his shoulders, along with odds stacked against his hopes for finding love. Y/N was fully focused on building herself a career in astronomy, studying extra hours and assisting as her professor's subordinate. She even worked internships, her talent and knowledge solidifying her career before she even graduated college. There was still a long road of schools and programs she had to finish before she could call her career something to be proud of and getting into a relationship, especially one that was online, would be a risk for both of them.

There were things they expected and needed from a significant other that they couldn't offer each other through texts and calls, which weren't even as consistent as they would like them to be. They wouldn't be able to go on dates and get to know how they would act if they were physically in front of each other. They wouldn't be able to hug, hold hands or kiss as normal couples do. They wouldn't be able to console each other on bad days because sometimes, words and random memes pulled from Pinterest just weren't enough.

So, despite how much they hated it, they would stay friends, online friends, until some miracle brought Y/N to Korea or Niki to America, where she was studying.

There were times Niki would hope he would find another fan to fall in love with the way he found Y/N . During meet and greets, he would cautiously and meticulously plan questions to ask the people that came to meet him in hopes of replacing the emptiness Y/N had left in his heart. But there was no other like her. He met girls that were bold and confident and he met girls that were smart enough to graduate from all the Ivy leagues. He even met girls that were sweet and kind and didn't have the heart to hurt a fly but they weren't Y/N and they didn't have her smile or that particular twinkle in their eyes and he had eventually given up.

"You know I've always loved you."

Niki was hiding under the covers, pressing his phone between his ear and the pillow and speaking in hushed whispers so he wouldn't wake his Hyungs. It was past one am for him and Y/N had just gotten back to her dorm after spending a day in the research lab with a classmate. They were both tired but could muster up enough energy to call for the first time again in a month. She moved to stand on her balcony, letting warm air hit her wind as she held her phone to her cheek.

"I know, Riki," she breathed. "You know I love you too."

"I've been thinking of all the possibilities of us being together and I just can't see it happening unless one of us sacrifices our careers."

She could hear his voice crack, soft whispers becoming broken mumbles as he continued speaking. She would be lying if she hadn't thought the same but she had always put it off, hoping for some miracle to take place so that one day she would find herself in his arms, put each other to sleep and waking each other up to the rays of sunshine protruding through curtains. But that would never happen, just like how they would never have their first hug, first kiss or first date together. Not now, at least.

"I've thought about it too," she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger and leaned against the railings. "We've talked about us getting into a relationship before. We know it's not a good idea. I'm fine staying just the way we are, you know?"

"I know, Y/N ," he sniffled. "But there's only so long either of us can wait for the impossible to happen, right?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I don't want to be hurt anymore over you and I don't want you wasting your hopes over me either."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm trying to say that if I end up finding someone else that I like, I'm going to try and move on and I think you should do the same."

Whenever Niki would go through an exceptionally bad day, he would put himself to sleep by watching a funny video of Y/N that he'd saved in his gallery. Some were videos of herself that she sent, shot by one of her friends while she said something comedic or did something regrettable. Other videos were filmed by himself, screen recordings of their video calls together while she did something stupid and childish for the sake of passing time or making laughter. These videos would usually wipe the tears or frown off his face and have him fall asleep with a smile but he didn't bother to do that after he hung up the phone with her that night. He roughly shoved his phone under his blanket and buried his face in his pillow, a string of sobs and cries muffled into it while he punched his clenched fists into the mattress.

He had awoken everyone at one point, yelling a string of profanities that made his Hyungs jump out of bed and run to his aid. He cried minimally but the salt tracks on his cheeks looked permanent. His hand stuck to the area over his chest where his heart resided, complaining about the fact that it physically hurt and taking painkillers didn't help him either. Jay and Heeseung sat with him until the sun rose, keeping him distracted with as much conversation as they could and even offered to play a game of football in the hall if he was interested.

The next two months were filled with minimal texts and pictures from his side. While she would blow up his phone with texts and pictures of updates about her life, he would respond with a few emojis and a short text explaining how his day was tiring and repetitive just like any other. He didn't send any pictures or voicemails and when they called, he barely spoke sentences that contributed to any conversation. When she found out from Jake that it wasn't just her he was acting depressed around, she yelled at him and gave him a piece of her mind until he came around and got over himself, finally coming back to his enthusiastic antics on the third month.

Life went on that way. Whatever priority he had given Y/N had shifted towards his career and whatever hopes she had for him had diminished. She still wore the necklace he gave her and he still wore the bracelet she gave him. She still used his jacket but care packages rarely went his way. They still texted but only once in a while as though they talked to each other for the sake of it. Their calls barely lasted for a few minutes because sometimes he would be busy touring and other times she would be busy with exams. So they resorted to sending voicemails to each other but only once in a while and soon, conversations were nonexistent.

“What happened to us?”

Y/N was in tears that night and she called him because she missed him. She missed her best friend and she missed how he cared about what happened in her day. She missed being excited to update him about her days regardless of whether they were boring or eventful. She missed sending him pictures and she missed how he used to appreciate her effort in the care packages she sent him or the random compliments or flattery he would text her. She simply missed him- being around him, talking to him, being able to crack jokes and laugh with him for hours about nothing in particular. But a part of her knew it wouldn’t be easy to go back to how they used to be.

“I don’t know, Y/N .”

“I miss my best friend,” she sobbed. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Y/N ,” Niki pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting the tears that pooled in his eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m trying so hard but you’re not putting any effort and it feels like you don’t care. So, it just makes me want to do nothing and say nothing to you.”

“I’m trying too but I’ve been busy and you know that, Y/N .”

“Riki, even I’m busy. But I’m still trying, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m trying, too. I’m sorry.”

III

Seven years later, Y/N received a letter from Niki.

“I’m getting married,” it read in his handwriting. “And you better be there.”

Along with the note came a wedding invitation. It was a navy blue card with intricate designs printed in white and in the middle of it read “NIKI WEDS JOCELYN” in bold italics. Then, there was the RSVP card which asked if she was attending or not; if so, would she bring a plus one? It was simple for her to answer but she pondered whether to even attend the wedding. Buying plane tickets to Seoul, Korea wasn’t the issue but flying there meant taking a holiday from lectures at the university and if she wasn’t sure it was worth the sacrifice. She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to face Niki for the first time in forever. Even though they had a reason to meet again, to have her fly to where he was so they could finally meet, especially when he requested for her there, she didn’t think she wanted to take that opportunity.

Niki told her about Jacelyn a few years ago. It was a meaningless mention like she meant the equivalent to a coffee he drank that day. Y/N didn’t think much of the fact that he rarely ever talked about her. In the beginning, she thought their relationship must have started off smooth and loving but as time went on and when she didn’t hear her name again, she assumed they had separated. Staring at the wedding invitation in her hands, she didn’t know if she was supposed to feel surprised that his first relationship turned out to be his last or hurt by the fact that he never shared anything insightful about the girl he clearly loved so much.

Y/N didn’t know how their friendship was salvaged for such an extended period of time. Over the years, texting and calling became taboo between them. Instead, they would email each other. It was a ritual of long and chained emails they didn’t plan on breaking. They would write them once every few months, detailing the things they deemed were important to mention about themselves and she was surprised he didn’t mention the importance of his fiancee. She didn’t know when he proposed and she didn’t know how they met and she didn’t even know if it would make a difference if she attended the wedding or not.

She supposed he stopped mentioning Jocelyn for the sake of not hurting her. To be fair, Y/N wasn’t detailing her encounters of rendezvous with other men and various other love interests in her life to him either. Yet the difference was that the men in her life were flings, drifting in and out of days like clouds passing over her head whereas Jocelyn was Niki’s sun, a permanent aspect that would continue to cheer him on through day and night.

Nishimura Riki was now the proud owner of his own dance studio. He had twenty employees working under him and two hundred students learning under his aid, dreaming to be the next best dancer of Korea or another kpop star like he once used to be. He was also a brand ambassador for Prada and Bvlgari and producer for the talk show Jay and Jungwon had started hosting a while back. He needed someone like Jocelyn to cheer him on and support him and she could give him things Y/N never could.

Because, in the end, love wasn’t enough of a reason for Y/N to abandon her studies and start a life with a boy who didn’t know how to treat her the way she deserved. Love wasn’t enough for Niki to abandon his dreams and build a family with a girl who couldn’t offer him what he needed.

On the RSVP card, she ticked that she would attend without a plus one.

Y/N didn’t get a chance to meet Niki before the wedding began. Instead, the first time she saw him in person after almost ten years was while he was standing beside the priest in tears while he watched Jocelyn walk down the aisle. He listened to him recite his vows, his sweet words sounding so familiar to her because they were words he used to utter to her when they were sixteen, naive and infatuated with the confusion of lust and attraction. Now they were twenty-seven, burdened with wisdom they wished they didn’t have and experiences they wished they could wipe away. They wished they could be sixteen again and make the mistake of falling in love with the wrong person because, at the time, it was the best kind of high they could find.

After the ceremony was complete, Y/N walked around with curious eyes and the jacket he had given her all those years ago. It was old and wrinkled and no matter how many times she had given it to the dry-cleaners, she accepted that the loose strings and dried curry stains could never be fixed. She saw the previous ENHYPEN members walking around, talking amongst themselves or enjoying a glass of wine. Sunoo was the best man and he had the pleasure of greeting all the guests- she wondered why none of them approached her. She quickly realised that to them, she was just a stranger. She was someone no one knew, forgotten with ancient history and replaced by the better.

Niki no longer wore the bracelet she gave him. She wondered when he had thrown it away while she played with the sunflower pendant that continued to hang from her neck. She pondered leaving without bothering to greet the boy, to remain without the joy of being able to meet an old friend. They were only physically around each other for seventeen minutes, it would be alright if they kept it that way.

But he came jogging towards her with wide eyes and two glasses of wine held in his hands. He had that boxy smile plastered across his face, chest heaving with excitement as he stood in front of her. Deja vu washed over them, reminiscing about the time they had met in that Korean Barbeque restaurant all those years ago when he jogged up to her and her parents and gifted her the necklace that was now a relic of their history.

“I gave you that jacket to keep, you know? Not to return it on my wedding day.”

“It’s the first time we’re seeing each other in ten years and that’s the first thing you have to say to me?”

Nervous would be an understatement to describe what both of them were feeling at that moment. The wine glasses held in his hands could be seen shaking and her heart was beating loud enough for half of the guests to hear. Yet, they shrugged with awkward smiles on their faces and leaned forward, wrapping their arms around each other for the first time but it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel as special and cherished as they expected it to feel but rather normal and common.

“That was our first hug, huh?” Niki chuckled and she took a glass of wine from him.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” She scrunched her nose.

“It’s weird that it doesn’t feel weird.”

They clinked their glasses together and took the first sip.

Jocelyn walked towards them, her beautifully curled brown hair bouncing off her shoulders and dazzling hazel eyes smiling brighter for her instead of her lips. She was gorgeous and she started jumping around when she realised she was in the presence of Y/N , the girl Niki would talk about and praise all the time. It came as a shock to Y/N , looking between the married couple with a gaped mouth and a million thoughts running through her head.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t talk about you with her or the rest of the members?”

“None of them seem to remember me, though.”

“Oh, they remember you. I just don’t think they remember what you look like.”

Jocelyn left the pair to talk alone so she could tend to the rest of the guests. Y/N and Niki were left sipping on their unfinished wine, one replaying the events of the last few minutes and the other reminiscent of the last decade of their lives. He could still list out things that he admired about her. For instance, now, he didn’t feel the need to force out any conversation and he didn’t feel awkward now that they were meeting for the first time. He could admire her forever, not as a lover but rather as a friend because that was all they could ever be. He had a wife now and he was settled in life and Y/N was the person that had seen him grow and mature through the many stages of his life.

“You still wear that necklace,” he observed.

“Never took it off, Riki,” she pursed her lips. “And you stopped wearing my bracelet?”

“Yeah, I took it off a while back.”

“Nice.”

“It was my way of moving on, Y/N .”

She wasn’t angry, per se. Perhaps a little hurt, which manifested in the form of a pang in her chest but she accepted it in seconds, moving on from the pain and concentrating on the flavours of wine that sloshed around her tongue. Niki noticed that she was tapping her foot to the floor, almost as if she were impatient for something; he realised that her habit of twirling her hair around her finger was lost.

“I don’t think I stopped loving you until after I met Jocelyn.”

Y/N was probably the last guest to leave. Despite Niki and Jocelyn’s pleas for her to stay another night so they could go out for dinner and perhaps bond over lost time, she still hailed a cab to take her away to the airport. On her way there, she solemnly rested her head on the window, weakly chuckling when she realised that they had driven past the infamous Korean Barbeque she and Niki met at. She could almost relive the moment, see herself and him standing outside the restaurant while six other boys tried rubber-necking in their conversation.

Now that she was looking back, those memories were worthy enough to be laughed about. It was ancient history but it didn’t rip open a wound whenever it was talked about and she could accept that she wasn’t enough for her first love and her first love wasn’t enough for her.

She accepted that he got married and would start a family soon and she accepted that the next time they would meet again would probably be at her own wedding.

[chickenclan]

hello!

I recently made a post about how 1987 cowaboomers hate mutant mayhem and rise because of the “woke” elements.

now don’t get me wrong, I love 1987! But not because of those nostalgia full asshats who’s ruining the 1987 fandom. Some fans really love 1987, including @ilovebeingaturtle and @getindumdums .

but people don’t seem to understand… 1987 is pretty gay??? Like take the shredder and krang relationship. I’m convinced that those two are the gayest thing that has ever graced tmnt (along with rise Leo and Mikey and the stockman-bishop relationship in 2003 tmnt).

and 1987 raph. Don’t get me started on that guy. He’s either gay or lesbian, depending on how people look at it, but no way in hell is he a heterosexual cishet guy. He and rise Leo even standing 20 feet of each other would out-gay the freaking rainbow. That guy is the original queer-coded funny guy with self worth issues.

I also find it super hypocritical that these cowaboomers are hating on rise and mutant mayhem April for being black (especially mutant mayhem, seems they have a problem with black characters that doesn’t have a pale-ass hourglass-looking ass body that they can jerk off to.)

they’ve actually been like this forever. Back when 2003 came out, they were yet again angry that the show wasn’t exactly to their standards. When 2012 came out, they were angry that april was a teen (you can guess why April being a teen made them angry) and that the 2012 turtles has three toes (what kind of weirdos fixate on that)

These people are so dense.

also it’s very clear that Seth Rogan loves 1987. The design of the turtles are very reminiscent of 1987. And mutant mayhem Leo, he has similar anxiety issues with 1987 Leo! And the premise of mutant mayhem is based on 1987’s conflict with humans!! MUTANT MAYHEM IS LITERALLY SO BASED ON 1987, but nooooooo. There’s always gotta be something that these basement dwellers can complain about so they can feel satisfied with themselves.

I dunno, I just needed to rant.

Bonus images to prove my point:

[orphiclovers]

Part 2 of examples of rape/SA in orv and my thoughts on them. cw: discussion of rape and mentions of pedophilia. lets get into it again

4. han myungoh mpreg. implied to be dragged off and raped by a demon in some capacity (I mean he literally becomes pregnant). so the act itself is entirely offscreen but why this is interesting it how getting raped and becoming pregnant fundamentally changes him as a person and from our MCs' perspectives, turns him "better" and more honorable.

so Rape-as-redemption is also a pretty Yikes trope. the implication that getting raped and going through all this awful shit made him a nicer person or fixed him somehow is quite... unfortunate... he's not a woman so it doesn't read as quite as problematic but the optics are still not looking good. 4.5/10 maybe rethink this

5. When Kim Dokja is physically wrestling lee seolhwa/queen antinus to the ground while Yoo Joonghyuk is paralysed by poison and watching from a distance and starts thinking that it would be a really bad idea to assault or rape Lee Seolhwa even though they're both immobilized and he has her in a compromising position, because of course yoo joonghyuk would kill him (or anyone) who attempted to do this. why the fuck were you thinking about all this kdj? there's something wrong with this guy. this is an incredible moment, completely out of pocket and deranged.

doesnt add or detract anything from the story, most ppl miss it, but it tickles and entertains me personally that kdj thinks about raping yjh's ex girlfriend and this isn't supposed to say or imply anything about what kind of person he is. singshong say that it doesn't matter which lines were written by who but I can TELL this paragraph was written by a man. only a man would come up with internal monologue like this and randomly put it into the story 100/10 AMAZING I love it no notes. please more of this

6. pink kids. SIGH. we're fucking doing this shit again, same as Nirvana. "crossdressers are creepy perverse old men pretending to be girls to lure in their victims" ? Singshong stop depicting male gender non-confirming people as sexual predators challenge. They actually ACKNOWLEDGE this is a shitty trope so they TRY, they ATTEMPT to subvert it, poorly.

make one of the crossdressers actually THEE purest character in all of TWSA, wow! isn't it so unexpected that not ALL crossdressers are evil rapists and this one is actually innocent? this isnt the subversive commentary they thought it was. the fact they knew enough about how this trope is problematic to decide they need to subvert it but then do nothing about nirvana is reallly off putting. they can't even claim ignorance because they clearly know. 2/10 you tried I guess

7. when people assume kdj wants to fuck little kids.? this happens multiple times and is a misunderstanding that comes from the fact he makes sys his incarnation and spends a lot of time around children. canonically the only reason Han Myungoh's baby was spared/taken by asmodeus is to be used as a child sex slave gift to kim dokja because he thought he would like one. think about that. Kim Dokja canonically has (baseless) pedophile allegations 1000/10 that's amazing

8. Asmodeus is said/implied to be a sexual predator of some kind but its never made clear What exactly his crimes are, just vague "perverse sexual acts". He takes little girls bodies as vessels (which. is the fucking crossdressing predator trope again isnt it. goddamit) but we get no other implication of if he hurts his hosts. "Devil of Lust and Wrath" is a character who doesn't actually do much or any raping. 6/10 its alright? i dont know anymore

[darcyolsson]

assorted thoughts on a sea change:

the long ass epigraphs (plural) and the endless shakespeare quotes.... one thing about cc she's making sure we're well-educated on the classics!!! even when she's literally just writing yaoi she's still putting some literary education in the middle of it like she's feeling a dog a pill by wrapping it in meat. never change miss clare

speaking of dogs, shoutout to mr oscar wilde for actually being a main character in this

will & jem parabatai bond mentioned 1000 killed 10000000 injured

sylvain having a faded parabatai mark in the exact same spot as will does, presumably bc sylvain also does not think he will ever get married, albeit for completely different reasons 10000000 more killed 1000000000000000 more injured, one thing about will he haunts every corner of tsc like it's his job!!!!!!!!

speaking of herondales, matthew falling in love with a guy who looks exactly like james is crazy work. matthew constantly explicitly saying that he reminds him of james is crazier work. sylvain having a nickname for matthew in his native language just like james does is the craziest work, i need to sit down

also him being a verlac is a great detail. Designated Gay Family 💛

i'm kind of obsessed with sylvain casually mentioning he likes men to this guy he has a crush on and matthew not replying with "me too" or something but instead with "i was a teenage alcoholic". never change king

i did think the queen of the night was going to be camille but then it wasnt booooo.... i miss you camille. come back

can't believe there was a vampire asking matthew if he wants to be one of them and matthew rejecting it... she's mocking us for the downworlder matthew theories 😭

and finally, i'm glad we got a story where the weight of kit's death was so well-explored, this healed something in me <3

[misakarose]

S H A D E ✧ F I E N D

"Uh... fight for justice? Sounds boring. Nah... See this pale girl, diggin' her heels in? I'm fighting for Tanpopo Ohanami."

[leek-e]

My designs for the characters from We Object To Fear :) I love this show a lot and have watched it many times.

In order they are Matthew and his mum, Brian and Clark (prosecution), Alicia and Spencer (defence), and Xander and his unnamed friend (pre-trial).

[bizlybebo]

theres something in me that wants to write the exact same au shifted slightly to the left 48269484 billion times

[thatonesmartkidfromschool]

I like how I didn't even like Drayton that much at first but just. One day. Randomly. I realized "oh shit actually he's just like me fr" and I've been so obsessed ever since like HE'S ACTUALLY ME. ACTUALLY. FJSJDJWJDK

[cursezoroark]

ship chart for them for categorical purposes. chart by @/goomyloid.

[elfy-art]

asril the tiefling bard

(any pronouns)

[erythristicbones]

i don't feel like copying what i wrote, so take some screenshots of me having brainworms for the JDK villains again. primarily spurred by me going "hey wouldn't Nisha and Artemis and Apollo make cool rockstars instead"

[welcometoteyvat]

[leaks] kaeya’s skin is looking good but I’m also eyeing the supposed lion dancer boy

[snurtsnurt]

GUYS!! I just read the CUTEST book EVER oh my gosh. It’s was so adorable. You GUYS it was SO CUTTTTTEEEE

[dividedskylane]

i had for some obscure reason allowed the five years since i first read the goldfinch to gradually erase from my memory just how much i had loved it, and theo. but it's back on, baby!

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - handle with care

warnings ; oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨

prompt ; in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.

note ; if you are reading this.. this is a queue’d post while im in MEXICO!!!!! you horny little sluts really thought i would leave you alone for 5 days.. i would never. i figured — hey if i can’t post part 5 of tpod i can at least give a life lesson on blue collar dick, right? backstory here is that the other day my best friend and i had a conversation about our sexy ass landlord and that got me thinking… jungkook..? blue collar..? big dick..? so anyways this is the product of that convo! (and also a standalone one shot bc yall be loving these!)

Later, when someone asks you to recap this story, you’ll say that in your defense, you weren’t expecting the electrician to look like he walked straight off some cringy Pornhub set. You’ll say you just wanted your electricity fixed, not to be spiritually humbled by a man who smells like sawdust and pine.

Your apartment is the kind of place that builds character. And by character, you mean mild trauma.

The kitchen light flickers like it’s been possessed since the day you moved in. The ceiling creaks when your upstairs neighbor sneezes. Your shower only has two settings (arctic and molten lava). There’s a weird stain on the ceiling you’ve been ignoring for three months. And today, of all days, the universe decided to cut the last thread holding your sanity together: the power.

No lights. No working outlets. No WiFi. Which means you’re sitting on your couch, in a hoodie and shorts, trying to hotspot your laptop with 3% battery left while rage-texting your landlord like you’re filing an official grievance with Satan himself.

You immediately text your landlord, fully expecting a five-day delay and a $30 deduction off your next rent.

You: hi. respectfully. what the FUCK is happening?

You: i work from home. i pay rent. i have needs. pls fix ASAP.

He replies five minutes later like he’s doing you a personal favor.

Landlord: sending my guy over. 15 mins.

Your landlord is somehow both your greatest nemesis and your weirdest emotional support system. He’ll ignore three maintenance requests, ghost you for a week, then show up unannounced with a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. You’ve threatened to sue him in writing and sent him a happy birthday meme in the same month. And you’re already halfway into a mental spiral about “his guy” being a 60-year-old with pants that don’t stay up and opinions about the current political climate when there’s a knock at your door.

You swing the door open, fully expecting to see a crusty old man with a clipboard and a wheeze, and instead, you see… (and you’ll remember this moment until the day you die.)

Lip ring. Tattoo sleeve. Tool belt slung low over cargo pants. A black tee stretched across broad shoulders. Jesus Christ, the hair. Dark, slightly shaggy, pushed back on top but long in the back, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that should not be allowed near unsupervised women.

“Hey’,” he says, like this isn’t a pivotal moment in your sexual awakening. “I’m here about the outage?”

You blink at him. You are officially unfit for conversation.

This man has a mullet. A tattooed, lip-ringed, mullet-wearing man is standing in your hallway holding a voltage tester like its foreplay.

Suddenly, your pajama shorts feel too short for this moment. You fumble with the doorknob, “Uh. Yeah. Come in. It’s, uh.. yeah.”

Brilliant. Shakespeare could never.

He steps inside, and holy shit, he’s even taller than you thought. The kind of tall that makes your ceilings feel shorter. The kind of tall where you have to crane your neck just slightly to look up at him, which is offensive because you’re not exactly short yourself. He smells like a mix of sawdust, a hint of pine, laundry detergent, and a 2002 Nissan Altima. It’s oddly specific.

He glances around like he’s surveying a battlefield. “Power cut out completely?”

You nod, shuffling behind him as he moves farther into your apartment with the kind of confidence like he’s somehow been to your home before. His boots thud across your hardwood floor, scuffed and loud. The tool belt clinks. His shirt rides up when he stretches his arm to check something near the ceiling and there’s a flash of golden skin and low-slung cargo pants and—

You’re not doing well.

He pops open the panel in the ceiling like it’s nothing. “Y’all been having issues with this before? Flickering? Dead outlets?”

“Sometimes the kitchen light hums like it’s possessed,” you say, which you regret immediately. “I mean, not literally possessed. Not like.. haunted. Just… you know. Buzzing.”

He chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound that sinks its teeth into your spine and doesn’t let go.

“Probably a loose connection in the junction box. Nothing too crazy,” he says, grabbing something from his belt that you will now dream about tonight. “You work from home?”

You nod again, helpless. “Yeah. Marketing.”

He glances back at you. “Tough with no WiFi.”

You turn around under the guise of “letting him work” but really just to text your roommate, Sana, with trembling fingers.

You: help. our power went out and the electrician we got sent is so hot

You: he has a MULLET. a mullet, sana. he said “junction box” and i almost moaned

You hear him grunt softly as he stretches to reach something and you nearly drop your phone.

Sana: SEND A PIC RN

You sneak a glance back — he’s perched on your step stool, arms flexing as he reaches into the ceiling. His hair is curling perfectly at the back of his neck, a little messy from the heat.

You don’t send a pic. You can’t. It feels criminal. You feel like you’re watching live porn with consequences.

Then he speaks again, casually. “You smell something burning last night? Or anything weird before it cut out?”

You nearly say “just my ovaries,” but God reaches down and slaps your mouth shut.

Instead, you clear your throat. “Nope. No sparks, no smell. It just… died this morning.”

He nods, focused. “Might be a fuse then. I’ll check the basement in a sec.”

He drops down from the stool with a casual thud and wipes his hands on that rag in his back pocket. That ass, that rag. This is no longer an apartment. It’s a crime scene.

You glance up just in time to see him walking toward your front door, lifting the back of his shirt to wipe his forehead. You black out for a second.

You: he just wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his shirt. i saw ab muscle. like cut definition. i think it smiled at me.

Sana: you need jail or a CONDOM stat. get his number???

You’re halfway through typing “I don’t even know his name yet” when the front door opens behind you, and you almost launch your phone across the room like it’s a grenade.

He steps back into your apartment with that casual, unbothered energy he’s so good at carrying. Hair slightly damp at the edges now, cheeks pink from the walk up your stairs, tool belt still jingling.

“Basement breaker’s fine,” he says, brushing his palm down the front of his shirt. “Might be a wiring issue. Gonna check one more thing.”

You blink. Nod. Attempt human speech. Fail. “Cool. Yeah. Check… stuff.”

Christ. You sound like you learned English from Duolingo five minutes ago.

He smiles then, actually smiles. Full teeth, little bunny front ones peeking out. His lip ring glints as he does it, and your brain goes completely static for a second.

“Want some water?” you blurt, and immediately hate yourself. “Or iced tea? Or, whatever I have in the fridge that isn’t expired?”

He huffs out a little laugh, shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, sweetheart.”

You freeze like you’ve been slapped by a porn star. He walks past you again like nothing happened, reaching for something in his tool bag, completely unaware that your soul just evacuated your body.

You unlock your phone immediately, fingers trembling, and text in all caps.

You: HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART.

You: arrest him. make him marry me. i don’t care just make it LEGAL

You barely get the message out when he turns slightly and casually, and says, “So… you live here with your boyfriend, or…?”

You blink hard.

The question hangs there, just slightly too relaxed. Like it’s not loaded with potential. Like it’s not every Wattpad plotline you’ve ever read come to life in front of your half-broken Ikea bookshelf.

Your brain short-circuits harder than your kitchen socket. Is he flirting? Was that… are you being flirted with? It’s been a minute. Like, a long minute since you’ve had someone show genuine interest in you. You can’t tell anymore. He could be asking because he needs to know whose ass he’s about to get chewed out by if he knocks something over, or because he’s just curious.

You manage to croak out, “Just my roommate. Sana.”

He nods and doesn’t press. He lets out a low, distracted, “Hm,” like that’s useful information. Like it slots into place somewhere in his head and he’s okay with it.

You, meanwhile, are mentally drafting a will because you’re not sure your heart’s going to survive the rest of this visit.

He leans over your couch armrest to reach the outlet near the floor. His cargo pants pull slightly tighter around his thighs and you look away so fast you give yourself whiplash. You try to look normal, like a woman who isn’t catastrophically horny over someone adjusting your voltage.

You: HE ASKED IF I HAD A BOYFRIEND

Sana: I AM SCREAMING. I’M IN LINE AT TRADER JOE’S. OFFER TO MAKE HIM LEMONADE OR SIT ON HIS FACE IDK CHOOSE FAST

He stands back up, wiping his palms on that stupid fucking rag again, and glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he quips with that lazy, dangerous smile.

You nod, eyes wide, pretending you’re normal. “Cool. Thanks. No rush or anything. It’s not like I need power to… survive.”

He quirks a brow at that, like he finds you kind of funny, or kind of tragic.

You sit on the couch, phone hidden in your lap like it’s a shameful secret. He crouches near another outlet, testing something with one of those little gadgets that beeps and blinks.

“So, marketing,” he says over his shoulder. “Like… ads?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah. I work for a beauty brand. Mostly social media, some campaign strategy. Lots of pretending I know what I’m doing and hoping the algorithm doesn’t hate me that day.”

He chuckles. That low, amused sound that makes your toes curl. “That why you’re so good at talking?”

You freeze. “What?”

He glances back, smile creeping in slow and lazy. There’s an unfortunate amount of sarcasm behind his tone. “You seem to stumble a bit over words.”

You blink again, officially out of working brain cells. “Sorry. I—I can stop. I don’t mean to be annoying, I just—”

“I didn’t say it was annoying.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He crouches lower again, tapping something against the outlet. But you hear it anyway and feel it, low in your stomach like a dropped elevator.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, blessedly interrupting the moment before you combust.

Sana: girl. do i need to walk around the block or are you gonna fuck him. be honest.

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood. He straightens up, wiping his palms again. “So do you like it? The job?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It’s… stressful. But fun, sometimes. I guess,” You scratch the back of your neck.

“You good at it?” He grunts out, looking for something in his toolbox.

Your mind blanks. “What?”

He turns to look at you full-on now, arms crossed, shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders. “Marketing. All that stuff. You good at it?”

You let out a nervous little laugh. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and nobody’s fired me yet.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His tone isn’t aggressive. It’s low and relaxed. But something about the way he says it makes your pulse skip.

“I… I think I am,” you say, slower this time.

He nods once as if that answer pleases him. “You seem like you’d be.”

You’re gonna die. You’re going to actually die. This man is being nice to you, and it feels like your body isn’t prepared for that level of stimulus.

You glance at your phone again.

Sana: WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS LONG TO RESPOND??? IS HIS DICK OUT. BLINK TWICE

You look back up and he’s leaning against the doorframe that divides your kitchen and living room now, arms still crossed, lip ring catching the light. “So your roommate…?”

You nod, trying not to choke. “Yeah. Her name’s Sana. We’ve lived together since college.”

“She at work?” You swear he looks at your legs in your shorts, but could also be wishful thinking.

“Not right now. She works night shifts at the hospital 15 minutes away from here.,” You twiddle your thumbs in your lap.

He hums, still watching you. “So you’re here all alone today.”

It’s not a question. It shouldn’t be hot. It’s just a sentence. But, the way he says it? The tone? The slight lilt at the end, like it means more than it says?

You let out a strangled sound that you hope reads as a laugh. “Yeah. Just me. Alone. In this… apartment. Where you are. Currently.”

He tilts his head, smiling again. “You’re kind of funny for someone with no electricity.”

You hesitate. Then, blurting before you can stop yourself, “And you’re kind of cocky for someone who still hasn’t turned my lights on yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing. “Hm?”

You shake your head way too fast. “I mean—just—like, you’ve been here for a bit now and you’re fixing my power and it is taking quite long, but I promise I’m not mad about it.. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a real laugh this time. Full, low, and stupidly hot. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen like he didn’t just wreck your central nervous system.

You take another breath and text Sana.

You: he’s flirting. he’s literally flirting. i want to crawl inside the oven

Sana: girl. jump on the counter and say “while you’re fixing things, i’m also broken.”

Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you, the lights come back on with a quiet click, a whirr of electricity humming back to life through your walls, and you swear the sound might as well be a death knell.

He steps back from the panel in your hallway, tapping the side of it with a knuckle like he just fixed your entire infrastructure. “There we go,” he says, “Should be good now. Might’ve just been a loose connection behind the breaker, it’s common in these old buildings.”

You nod slowly, like you understood a single word of that. All you really heard was competency and your brain whispered: breedable.

“That’s… great,” you reply, way too softly. “Thanks.”

He wipes his hands again on that same rag and starts packing up his tools, metal clicking together as he slips things back into place. His forearm flexes with every movement, tattoos shifting across his skin like they’re in on the joke.

“Need help with anything else?” he asks casually, not looking at you as he zips up the tool bag. His voice dips slightly.

Your heart stutters. You should say actually, yeah, my back is acting up and I think the solution involves that couch and maybe you using me like a handrail. But instead you go, “Nope. That’s all.”

Your phone vibrates against your thigh, dragging you back to earth.

Sana: have you ever heard of blue collar dick??? this is ur chance

You squint at that text, thumbs pausing mid-reply.

Blue collar dick.

The phrase unlocks something buried deep in your brain. A memory. A TikTok you watched half-asleep one night at 1:37AM, under the glow of your LED lights, while eating dry cereal out of a mug. The girl had looked straight into the camera, wide-eyed and deadly serious, and whispered: “Blue collar dick is not just a concept. It’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of unholy grip someone develops on you after a man with calloused hands and a union paycheck fixes your sink and rearranges your soul in the same afternoon.”

You’d laughed. Scoffed, even. How dramatic.

He zips up the last pouch on his tool bag and stands tall, glancing toward the door like he might head that way but he doesn’t. He stays.

He rolls his shoulder a little, absently adjusting the strap, and you watch his fingers drag across the curve of his neck.

“You think everything working alright?” he asks, voice low and unhurried like he’s trying to fill the silence. Like he knows you’re still stuck in some sort of horny trance and he’s being generous enough to let you catch up.

“Yeah,” you say, breathier than intended. “Power’s on. Looks like the WiFi is back. I can check if my laptop came back to life.”

You gesture toward your computer like it matters. Like any of that is worth focusing on when he is standing six feet from you.

He hums, looking around your living room where you’re still on your couch. “Place is cute.”

You blink. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s… falling apart slowly, but charming.”

He doesn’t really acknowledge that. “Anything else broken in here?” he asks, stepping away from the wall a little. “Leaky faucet? Shaky table leg? My dad taught me how to fix a ton of stuff, I’m pretty handy with anything. You want me to check something else?”

Your mouth opens and closes. Your brain struggles to find the words, and the words you want to say are not coming out easily, so you just respond with, “No. I mean… no, I think we’re good. You fixed the lights.”

His eyes flicker and stay on you just a second too long. Then he shifts slightly, sets the tool box down again with a thud, and stretches his arms overhead like he’s got nowhere to be. Shirt rides up just enough for you to see the line of his waistband and the shadow of toned skin beneath it, and you almost bite your tongue off.

“You sure?” he asks again, tone casual, almost amused now. “You looked kinda… bummed when the lights came back on.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No. I wasn’t.. I mean, not bummed. Just surprised. Happy. Grateful. Electrified, if you will.”

Electrified. You’re going to throw yourself off the balcony.

He laughs again, and you swear it vibrates in your chest. “I could hang out a sec,” he offers, and it’s not subtle anymore. “Just make sure everything stays stable. Sometimes the lights will turn back off randomly.”

Everything’s stable, you repeat in your brain like an idiot. I am not.

He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall now, lazy and relaxed, eyes still on you like he’s just waiting to see what you’ll say next.

Before your brain can stop your mouth from doing anything reckless, you blurt out, “Have you eaten?”

His brows lift. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Lunch. Have you had any?”

He tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your mouth for one half-second too long. “Not yet,” he says, “Didn’t get the chance.”

You nod like this is normal. Like offering sandwiches to electricians with tool belts and stupidly sexy mullets is part of your daily routine. “I can make you something if you want.”

His mouth curves, slow and teasing. “Yeah? You feed all the guys your landlord sends over?”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly eject from your skull. “Only the ones who save me from having to live in darkness.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Then yeah. I’m kinda hungry.”

He walks over to where you’re sitting, drops his bag beside the couch, stretches with a casual groan that shoots straight between your thighs, and flops onto your couch like he’s done it a hundred times. Like your couch is a perfectly acceptable throne for his man-spreading, bicep-showcasing, very-much-staying presence.

You twiddle your fingers, “If i make you food, it’s only right if I get your name.”

Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

“Jungkook,” He looks over to you, trying to bite back a grin. “And yours is [Y/N], right? Saw it on the assignment sheet.”

“Cool,” You gulp down some saliva that was lodged in your throat.

You march to the kitchen like a woman on a mission, flinging the fridge open with the determination of someone prepping for an exorcism. It’s not that you want to impress him. It’s just that… okay. No. You do want to impress him. You want to serve this man a sandwich so good he files a formal complaint against your thighs for being too far from his face.

You find good bread. Not the sad white slices. You find turkey. Cheese. Lettuce that isn’t slimy. A tomato you aggressively pat dry with a paper towel like a psychotic housewife. You toast the bread and add a little mustard. You even cut the sandwich diagonally, because if you’re going to be delusional, you’re going to be domestically deranged about it.

Your phone buzzes for the billionth time.

Sana: DID YOU FUCK HIM YET

You ignore her. You grab a little paper plate with a cup of water and a napkin and present this meal like you are some Michelin chef. You walk it out carefully, feeling like you should have a white linen apron and one of those vintage Coke ads playing behind you.

“Damn,” he says when you hand it to him, voice warm with surprise. “You really went all out.”

You shrug, trying to act chill. “Just a sandwich.”

He takes a bite and groans.“No, this is next level. Wife-tier sandwich.”

Your face goes hot. You sit down beside him on the couch, one cushion away, legs crossed, heart racing. You grab your phone and finally reply to Sana before she drives to the apartment and physically removes you.

You: sana i need you to take a lap. actually take a five-mile lap. this house needs to be mine for two hours minimum.

Sana: i will literally be gone until sunset

You set your phone down and glance at him again. He’s halfway through the sandwich already, clearly enjoying the hell out of it, crumbs on his fingers, lip ring glinting as he chews.

“So,” you say casually, “how’d you get into electrical work?”

He swallows, wipes his mouth, and shrugs. “Started out helping my uncle with his crew back home. Learned enough on the job that I stuck with it. Took the exam, got certified, picked up my own clients.”

“That’s hot,” you say before thinking.

He pauses, blinks, then smirks again. “Yeah?”

You want to shrivel into the cushions. “I mean, just like the hands-on thing. Fixing stuff. Being good with your hands.”

He glances at you, faintly amused. “It’s a bold choice… Flirting with the guy who knows your wires inside out better than you ever could.”

You’ve made your decision. You’ve committed to the bit. You’re going to have him. You don’t care how. You don’t care if it’s a terrible idea. You’re already halfway there, and if blue collar dick is a myth, you’d like to be the one to confirm or deny it firsthand. You smile, tilting your head. “I like living on the edge.”

He finishes the sandwich and sets the plate on your coffee table with a little sigh. “Damn. Guess I should’ve been in this line of work sooner.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him through your lashes like you’re not actively in the process of losing your mind.

He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm thrown casually along the back cushion, knee brushing yours now, and your whole body tightens at the contact. You look down at his hand, rough, calloused, fingers spread just enough to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere else.

Focus. Focus.

“So,” you start, aiming for casual but landing somewhere around unhinged, “do you, like… do this for a lot of people?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Fix electricity?”

You laugh too fast. “No! Well, yeah. I mean. Yes. But like… do you do this for one person a lot? Regularly? Like… someone special. Like a client. A consistent client.”

He’s still watching you, brows slightly raised, clearly trying to follow your logic. “Huh?”

You look down, embarrassed. Shit. Too subtle. You double back. “Sorry, I meant… like… is there someone who, you know, gets their power fixed all the time? Like a… girlfriend?”

Oh my god. Girlfriend. You say it like you’ve never spoken English before, like the concept of casual inquiry never existed.

His lips tugging up like he knows exactly what you’re asking. “Nah,” he replies. “No girlfriend.”

He reaches for the glass of water you’d set on the coffee table earlier, and you watch his throat work as he takes a slow gulp. His lip ring catches the light again, and your brain completely flatlines.

No girlfriend.

No girlfriend. That’s… fine. That’s great. That’s also dangerous.

Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you barely register that he hasn’t looked away. When he sets the glass down again, his eyes don’t drift back to his phone or the room or the vague distance.

They stay locked on you.

You shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re sitting. His fingers are still relaxed against the couch cushion, a breath away from the curve of your shoulder.

“Should I expect a full background check with your next outage?”he says, voice low now.

You’re officially in the danger zone now with no intentions of stopping. “Already ran yours. Five star reviews all around. “

He chuckles, quietly. “I’m honored.”

Your breath catches. It’s a small sound. Barely audible. But his gaze dips lower at the sound of it, flickering between your mouth and your throat. He doesn’t hide it anymore. There’s no playfulness left.

“Stop staring” you mutter, trying to keep your voice even.

He lifts a brow. “I’m not.”

“Are you… thinking about kissing me?” This is worse than that one time in 10th grade when you got put in a closet with your crush and you practically slammed him against the door begging him to kiss you.

However, Jungkook doesn’t smile or smile. His gaze lingers on your lips still like he’s counting the seconds. “Would that be a problem?”

Your stomach drops. The air between you turns solid. “No,” you say softly. “It’d be the opposite of a problem.”

He doesn’t move right away, or lunge and lean in. He lets the silence fill with heat, with potential, like he wants you to feel the choice stretch out and make sure you want it just as much as he does. (Is he insane? Of course you do)

You want him to kiss you so bad it’s physically painful. Every nerve in your body is waiting for it, screaming for it, for the weight of his hand on your jaw, the feel of his lip ring pressing into yours.

You inch just slightly closer and your knee brushes against his fully now. Your face is tilted up toward his without even thinking.

“Are you gonna?” you whisper, voice barely there.

His eyes flicker again and then he smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He leans in, not in some clumsy rush. He drags it out just long enough for you to feel your whole body tense with anticipation. His hand finds your jaw first, thumb brushing your cheek, fingers curling gently under your chin.

And then his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you like it’s his job, like he’s done this a thousand times but still finds something new in the shape of your lips. His mouth moves with intention, none of that awkward fumbling, none of the soft, shy hesitation. It’s confident. His lip ring drags against your lower lip and you actually whimper, because of course he knows how to use it.

He groans low in his throat when your fingers knot in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slips around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you across the couch and into him like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you.

He tastes like faint mint and the sandwich you made him. Your legs shift, tangling with his. His hand is already on your thigh, rough palm skimming under the hem of your shorts, gripping hard enough to make your breath stutter into his mouth.

You gasp when he bites down lightly, but enough to make you feel it. He soothes it with a kiss immediately after, dragging his mouth down your jaw, and murmurs into your skin, “You’re a good kisser.”

You could die. You could die right now and it would be worth it.

You tilt your head back to give him more access, voice breathless. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you another groan, this one deeper, more possessive. His hand slides up your side, under your hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin and making your back arch instinctively.

He kisses you again, messier now and wetter. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing. His fingers sink into your thigh, pull you closer until you’re practically straddling him on the couch and you feel him, hard beneath his cargo pants, pressed against your hip like a threat.

“You sure you don’t need anything else fixed?” he murmurs against your mouth.

And all you can do is nod, eyes heavy, hands trembling against his chest as you whisper: “Hmm. I think my body is out of order. Needs fixing.”

Big hands grip your thighs, and with one swift, greedy motion, he’s pushing you back into the couch cushions. You land with a quiet gasp, hair fanned out, lips swollen, hoodie riding up over your stomach.

He’s hovering, body caged above yours, weight pressed into one arm braced beside your head, the other skimming up your waist and dragging your hoodie even higher. His silver chain dangles loose from his neck and every time he leans down to kiss you again, it smacks against your throat, cold and heavy, sending a shiver straight through you.

He groans when you arch up into him, letting your hips roll slightly, needy and desperate, and he feels it, feels how bad you want him and how worked up you are.

His bicep flexes beside your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you but you kind of wish he would. You let your hand drift up, fingertips grazing the muscle slowly, shamelessly.

Holy fuck, he’s strong.

Strong in the way that makes your thighs press together, that makes you want to find out what else those arms can hold you down against. You squeeze just a little, test the resistance, and he grins against your lips.

“That’s what you’re thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, dragging his mouth to your neck now, teeth grazing your jaw. “My arms?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your brain is literally melting.

He licks a stripe up the side of your throat and bites, just enough to make you whimper, and the damn chain swings again, cold against the same spot.

“You like that?” he asks, “Hmm?”

You nod frantically, whining. You’re gone.

His hand slides down to grip your thigh again, hiking it up around his waist, and the angle has you gasping. His hips dip into yours just enough to make it obvious: he’s hard, and he’s not even trying to hide it now.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” he mutters, biting your earlobe. “Since you fed me and everything. Feels only fair.”

You nod again, breathless. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, lips brushing yours. “Been thinkin’ about kissing you since the second you opened that door.”

His hands are already slipping under the hem of your hoodie, thumbs dragging across the skin of your waist as he mutters, low and sinful, “Lift your hips for me.”

You do instantly and he slides your shorts down so slowly it feels like punishment. They snag slightly at your thighs before he gets them off, flinging them somewhere over the armrest, and then he just stares. Lets his eyes drag from your knees to the place between your thighs like he’s about to pray and commit a felony in the same breath.

You’re not even fully naked, but you already feel exposed. Every part of you twitching with anticipation because the way this man looks at you? It’s like he already knows what you taste like.

He lowers himself, right between your knees and spreads your legs open with two hands and drags your body closer to him.

“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. “What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”

You want to answer. You try to answer. But then he presses a kiss right above your knee, then lower and lower. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of you, kissing a trail up your thigh like you’re dessert and he’s been starving all day.

When he finally gets to your underwear, he lets out a low hum.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, thumb dragging along the edge. “You’re soaked.”

You choke on your own spit. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, and looks up at you, eyes dark. You’re propped up on your elbows, watching him like you’re in a live-action fantasy, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Gonna take these off now,” he says, almost too gently.

You nod like a bobblehead. “Please.”

He tugs them down painfully slow, and when they slip off your legs and drop to the floor, he doesn’t even hesitate. He just dives in.

Tongue flat, broad, ruthless against you, dragging through your folds. You jolt, hips bucking off the couch, and his hands immediately slide up to pin you down, fingers bruising your thighs as he holds you in place.

He moans into you, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit with slow, maddening pressure. The suction makes you cry out, hand flying to grab at his hair, soft, messy strands you curl your fingers into.

“Fuck, J-Jungkook,” you gasp. His grip tightens on your thighs in response. He flattens his tongue again, licking long and slow, nose nudging against your clit just enough to make your legs shake. Then he shifts, tilts his head just slightly, and flicks the tip of his tongue in tight, fast circles.

You swear you see God.

He doesn’t stop, and it’s obscene how good it is. You can hear it. Mapping out every flick, every swirl, every suck that makes your thighs twitch and your head fall back in helpless, high-pitched whines.

He’s so good at it, it’s almost infuriating. Like he’s been training for this specific moment, like he knew your body before you ever laid eyes on his goddamn toolbelt.

“Shit,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch like you’ll fall off the earth if he keeps going.

He pulls back barely, enough to murmur against your soaked skin, “What’s that, sweetheart?”

You look down at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and the sight makes your stomach flip.

His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, locked on yours with zero shame. His lips are wet, his lip ring gleaming, his chain dragging down your thigh. His hands are still gripping your legs tight. “You’re already shaking,” he taunts, “You gonna fall apart before I even get my fingers in?”

You let out a sound you don’t recognize. Your hips buck without permission, trying to chase more friction, more pressure, anything, and he laughs.

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh again, right where it’s already slick. “Thought you were tough.”

“Jungkook,” Your voice breaks.

“Yeah, baby?” he smiles, “Want more?”

You nod frantically. “Please. Please, please.”

“Mmhmm.” He drags his tongue back up, slow and torturous. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” you gasp as he suckles your clit again, just hard enough to make your legs spasm. “I want your fingers please. I can’t—”

“You can,” he says, way too calm. “You’re gonna. Not done with you yet.”

He slides one hand down between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, slow and unhurried. You feel the first press of his fingertip at your entrance and it’s over.

When he finally pushes in just one thick finger, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. It feels so good, too good.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he notes more to himself than to you. “Fuck. Gripping already.”

He curls his finger and you practically wail. You slap a hand over your mouth but he sees it, and then lowers his mouth back down to your clit like he’s starving for it.

His tongue and his finger move in tandem. Circles and pressure and heat all at once, building you up, pushing you higher, dragging desperate sounds out of you that you’ve never made before.

“Jungkook, fuck, please,” you sob, grabbing at his hair. “Please, I need—”

“You need what?” he murmurs against you, adding a second finger slowly, the stretch perfect, his mouth never leaving your clit.

“I need, need to cum, please—”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers start to fuck into you even deeper, “Not yet.”

You’re near tears at this point.

He flattens his tongue and moans into you, and your hips jerk off the couch. Your hands are clutching at him now, your stomach tightening, thighs trembling around his head as he talks you through it.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he exhales, eyes locked on your face. “All needy and loud. Fuck, baby. I could eat you all day.”

You’re so close it hurts. He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice hoarse against you. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

And you do, embarrassingly hard. It crashes over you like a power surge, hot and fast and blinding. Your hips jerk, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and you’re cumming so hard you forget your own name.

He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and you’re pushing at his shoulder with a broken gasp.

Still, he doesn’t let up. His tongue is relentless, fingers even more ruthless. You’re sweating, teary-eyed and so close you’re practically vibrating, when you finally snap.

“Jungkook,” you moan, throat raw. “I need you to fuck me. Please. I can’t—“

That gets him to cease. He pulls back, mouth soaked, lip ring gleaming. His hand lingers between your thighs for a second longer before he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.

You reach up, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, dragging him down so you can kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it just makes it worse, makes you needier.

He stands up, stripping down as fast as humanly possible. The black tee comes off first, revealing a chest that’s all muscle, abs that flex when he tosses the shirt aside. Then the cargo pants get shoved down, and…

Holy fucking shit.

It swings free and heavy into his palm, and you gasp.

That’s what they meant by blue collar dick. Thick, veiny, the prettiest goddamn cock you’ve ever seen. Long, curved just right, flushed and leaking at the tip as he wraps his hand around the base and starts stroking himself, slow and lazy.

He tilts his head back with a low groan, lashes fluttering, chain swinging over his chest and you just stare.

You’ve seen good dick before. You’ve had great dick, even. This is different. This is the kind of dick that installs central air and breaks bed frames. The kind that fucks through creaky floorboards, says “good girl” like a prophet, and pays in cash everywhere.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still jerking himself slowly, eyes dark as he looks down at you. “You want it, baby?”

You nod like your life depends on it. “Please. Need it so bad.”

He doesn’t waste another second. “Turn over,” he says, voice commanding. “Face down, ass up. I want that spine arched.”

You scramble to obey, flipping onto your stomach, shoving your hoodie up out of the way. You bury your face in the couch cushion, arms stretched forward, hips high in the air and the sound Jungkook makes behind you is inhuman.

“Fucking hell,” he licks his lips, hands gripping your hips, thumbs spreading you open. “Look at you.”

You feel him line up behind you, thick head sliding through your slick folds, teasing but not pushing in yet, and your whole body twitches.

“You’re perfect like this,” he says, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades until your arch deepens. “Back all pretty, ass in the air, soaked for me. Fuck, baby.”

He leans forward, voice rasping hot in your ear. “You gonna take it for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you nice and deep?”

You moan out, whimpering into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Atta girl.”

He pushes in slow, allowing you to feel every inch. You feel the thick, burning stretch of him as he sinks in deeper, splitting you open around his cock. Your breath catches on a whimper, eyes rolling back as he fills you.

“Fuuuuck,” you choke out, voice strangled. “You’re so big.”

Behind you, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still sliding in, forcing your walls to open around him. “That too much for you, baby?”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe, cheek pressed into the cushion. “No, no, it’s so good, just, fuck—”

He bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and you swear you see stars. You’re so full it’s almost unbearable, like he’s in your stomach, You’ve never felt anything like it; your walls clenching, dripping, pulsing and he’s barely even moved yet.

He pulls out halfway and slams back in, then does it again… and again… and again.

His pace is brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that send shockwaves through your spine and bounce off the walls. Skin slapping, the obscene wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in over and over, the couch creaking beneath you. You’re a full mess under him, and he’s moaning now too.

“Fuck,”Jungkook growls behind you, breath ragged. “You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?”

You do. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is loud, echoing with every thrust as your juices coat his length and drip down your thighs onto the couch cushions below.

“Fucking soaked,” he growls again, hips snapping into you.

His hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful at the base of your neck and pulling. Your head lifts from the pillow you grabbed from nearby in a panic, back arched to its limit, body bent like a bowstring as he fucks into you harder now that he has you right where he wants you.

“Taking it so good, baby,” he pants, yanking your head back just enough to make you moan. He keeps pounding into you, dragging that cock so deep it feels like he’s carving himself into your soul, keeping your head held high by your hair, whispering filth that makes your legs shake.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” he growls, tone thick and mean. “Wanna fall apart right here on my cock?”

You’re shaking too hard to answer, all that’s coming out are some babbles you nor him have any energy to interpret. Somehow, your brain flashes back to that fucking TikTok. That girl that described “blue collar dick” like it was some natural disaster.

Now you’re living it.

You’re bent over on your own couch, spine arched, tears in your eyes, unable to even think as Jungkook wrecks you with his cock and whispers filthy praise in your ear like it’s his job. This is blue collar dick. This is the goddamn thesis statement of that TikTok. You’re going to send that girl flowers.

“Please,” you cry, “Please, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he pants, breath hot against your neck as his fingers reach down and work your clit cruelly enough to keep you from tipping over. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”

You nod, choking out sobs, your body twitching around him, clenching hard enough that he starts to fall apart.

“Fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you. “You’re so tight. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum before you do.”

You moan loud into the pillow, your whole body wrecked and burning, still locked in this purgatory he’s created, his cock fucking you deep and hard, his fingers rolling over your clit with precision, holding you right there.

“Say it,” he growls, “Tell me how bad you need it.”

“I need it, please, I need it so bad. I can’t, I’m so close, please let me cum.” Your self -control has exited the apartment.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out behind you, “Fuck, baby, feel how tight you are? How bad your pussy wants to cum for me?”

You can’t answer. You’re drooling into the pillow, gasping, your body jerking with every thrust like you’re being electrocuted.

“Let go,” he groans, voice shaking. “You’re gonna cum for me now, yeah? Go on, baby. Fucking cum.”

The second his thumb presses tightly just right against your clit, you shatter. It hits you like a wave. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, back arching so hard it lifts your hips even higher as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream as your pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing and gushing as you cum so hard your vision goes white.

Your arms give out completely. You collapse forward onto the couch with a breathless sob, ass still arched up as your cunt throbs around him, wetness dripping down your thighs in sticky trails. Your face is buried in the cushion, your legs are trembling.

“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, “Just like that. You feel that, baby? Feel how good it is when you cum on me?”

He curses, pulls out fast and you let out a weak little cry at the loss, at the ache he leaves behind.

But then he’s jerking himself over you, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wrist snapping fast, hips stuttering as he pants over you, chasing his own high.

His head tilts back, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. A deep, broken moan is ripped straight from his chest as his hips twitch forward and he spills across the curve of your ass in thick, hot ropes. His chain swings with the motion, clinking gently as he fucks his fist through it, painting your skin in messy, perfect streaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re… fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”

You’re too far gone to speak.

You stay face-down on the couch for a full minute post-impact, naked and glazed like a donut.

Jungkook exhales somewhere behind you, like he too is processing the life-altering events that just occurred in your living room. You hear his body move as he leans back, chest rising and falling, the distinct sound of a man who just came so hard he forgot his social security number.

There’s cum on your ass. Your hair’s stuck to your cheek. The throw pillow has a bite mark in it. You are not well.

You finally lift your head a fraction of an inch. “I think I just met God.”

Jungkook lets out a soft, post-nut laugh. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Tell him I said hi.”

You look over at him from where you’re sprawled out on the couch, now on your stomach. “…So do I owe you money, or…?”

He snorts. “For what?”

“For fixing my power?” You say it like it’s obvious.. which it should be.

Jungkook leans over and smacks your ass, casual, affectionate. “Nah. This one’s on the house.”

Eventually, he helps you sit up, grabbing the nearest clean towel in your bathroom like this is all completely normal. You look at each other and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or call your landlord and thank him for being so aggressively useless.

You’ll deal with that later.

Right now, you accept the towel, take a shaky breath. You blink at him, dazed, legs still jelly. “So if I break something else… just a hypothetical, should i call you..?”

He smirks, tugs his pants back up without bothering to button them, and says, “Depends. If you break something else, I expect a personal invitation. No middleman this time.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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