#and then the second one I want to eat the colours

[bitchface24-7]

Salutations! I’m new to tumblr and I don’t know how this generally works, but the reason I even started to be here more was after Arcane’s ending

I downloaded the app moment I started reading your writing and other JAYVIK fanfic writers!! I admire your work and believe you have a lovely writing! I enjoy reading your works every time!

I’m embarrassed but I wanted to request a Jayvik x Reader with celebrating the reader’s birthday in some way, doesn’t matter how if it’s hurt to comfort or nsfw or anything (my birthday is today that’s why I ask, it’s bittersweet currently due to comments I’ve received n such) it’s all up to you! I’d be happy if you’d even read this! Thank you so much for your time and have a wonderful day!

YOUR SPECIAL DAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: it's your birthday today! Your boys spoil you to the best of their abilities, breakfast in bed, lounging all day, they even baked you a cake the previous night while you slept! The cake is plain, but it's the tastiest cake you've ever had.

warnings: fluffier than a cloud, pre-established relationships, spoiling, physical affection, a birthday everyone deserves, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. Awe I'm sorry your birthday today is bittersweet due to some people who are buttheads. Happy Birthday!! Ignore them! I hope this fluffy little fic brings you some joy on your special day, and to anyone else who needs a pick me up on their special days too! Xoxo love ya (thanks for the compliments also) ❤️

The sounds of pots and pans clanging together wake you up. You grumble, rubbing your face and running a hand over your head, moving your hair out of your face. You look over to the side and catch your alarm clock, it’s 12:00pm.

You’ve slept in, like, by a lot.

You damn near bolt out of bed until Jayce and Viktor casually stroll into the bedroom, your favourite breakfast on a tray for you to eat in bed.

“What’s all this?” You ask, your voice rough due to sleep; but there’s a light smile on your face. Viktor and Jayce look to one another before bursting out into laughter. You pout at them.

“It’s your birthday today. Did you honestly forget?”

You pause for a second. Your schedule has been so hectic lately, that you felt like you could barely breathe. Your eyes shift to the side as you innocently state, “No?” in a questioning tone, dragging out the vowel as your voice raises in pitch.

Jayce chuckles and places the tray over your lap, the small legs keeping it upright. He kisses your cheek and Viktor puts your favourite drink onto the tray. He kisses your forehead.

Damn. This is a pretty good way to wake up.

“Relax. Eat. Today is a day of lounging. Watching movies, going out to do some activities. Don't even attempt to think about work, that'll make me quite displeased.” Viktor states, his accent rolling across the words smoothly and elegantly. You quirk an eyebrow at him, “As if you're not constantly thinking about work, you hypocrite.”

“Touche.”

And with that, you eat your breakfast and your two boys keep you entertained.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your birthday couldn't have gone any better. You did all your favourite activities, ate all your favourite food, and spent the day with your two favourite people.

It’s late into the evening by the time you all get home, a few movies are on your mind for you all to watch before heading to bed.

That is until you enter your home and see your boys rush to the kitchen. You just huff a laugh and take your shoes off, putting some slippers on you follow them to their mad dash of an escape.

What you see melts your heart.

It’s a cake. It's simple, with no wording or fancy icing techniques. It's clearly homemade and has a variety of different coloured candles.

It’s perfect.

Jayce and Viktor look sheepish, almost a little embarrassed. You shut that down real quick.

“You guys made me a cake? When?” You ask, your tone one of awe and appreciation. Jayce's shoulders slowly lower and Viktor lightly smiles. He hits Jayce's arm lightly and Jayce grunts in pain.

“I told you they'd like it!”

“Okay okay, you're right! I thought they'd like a nicer cake, that's all.”

“The sentiment means more than a pretty cake.”

You giggle as they bicker, and you wave your hands around a bit to catch their attention again, “Hello? First off, Viktor’s right. Second off, when did you make this? I would've seen you two baking in the kitchen.”

Viktor humphs in triumph and Jayce looks at the two of you fondly, “We made it last night while you slept.”

“You were so exhausted that you slept right through it! Believe me, we made quite a bit of noise. Jayce then had the brilliant idea of you getting breakfast in bed so you wouldn't see the cake in the fridge.”

“Then Viktor had the great idea to take you out, so that way we’d keep the cake a surprise. We'd do activities and eat at our favourite restaurant as well.”

You feel like crying. They're so sweet. So thoughtful. You don't know how you got so lucky.

You rub your nose discreetly as they light the candles, and start to sing happy birthday. Usually you find this part really awkward. You're just kind of there as people sing to you.

But right now, your heart is so full of love you don't even notice. When they're done, you can't help but beam a grin at them and lightly bend over to get closer to the cake. You close your eyes, make your wish, and blow out the candles.

When you open your eyes, all the candles are smoking. You got them all in one shot.

Viktor smiles and takes the candles out as Jayce prepares to cut the cake. You get the first slice, you wait a moment so your boys have their slice as well before taking a big cut with your fork and putting it in your mouth.

It's the most delicious cake you've ever had.

Honestly, what did you do to deserve them? You rant and rave over their cake as they blush and smile and your compliments, casually strolling to the couch where you three debate what movie to watch.

This day couldn't have gone any better.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Hope you all have had a good day, and that this little fluffy fic makes every ones birthday just a bit sweeter.

[ayumy1]

Scored My Heart

Itoshi Sae x Male reader

Synopsis: The reason why Sae gave up his shared dream with Rin was because 'he' scored his heart in a way nobody else could.

Content: Fluff, humour, a tiny bit of angst

wc: 3.2k

Note: This is my first bllk fanfic and reader fanfic. So I apologise in advance for any ooc or weirdness. This is a male reader fanfic for plot purposes, if you don't feel comfortable reading, don't.

There is a language change. The colours will indicate the language:

Spanish | Japanese

Life in Spain was hard for Itoshi Sae. Very hard.

Despite being a step closer to reaching his dream, understanding the coach and his teammates was another matter entirely.

All trainings required a painful amount of scrutinising to understand what was going on. Whether it be what plays to execute to what he wanted to eat at team dinners.

Of course the coach tried to make things a bit easier by using a translation app or using actions instead of words. He obviously didn't want to lose such a promising player due to a lack of hospitality, but the only promising comfort he could provide was to wait for something next week. At least that's what Sae could decipher.

True to his word, something did come the following week. Rather it was not a thing. But a person.

"Y/N L/N, YOU DARE COME LATE AFTER MISSING A WEEK OF TRAINING!" screamed the coach hurling a soccer ball to the newcomer.

"Chill out, coach. I came here as fast as I could." the figure named Y/n L/n dismissively replied as he effortlessly chest trapped the incoming ball.

"Haaah...I'm gonna retire early because of this kid," the coach sighed, "What kind of idiot gets sick in summer?"

"The special kind!" he grinned.

By now everyone had crowded around the boy, either patting him on the back or teasing him mercilessly. Sae could only spectate on the sidelines in slight envy.

It was not long before the coach barked out orders to continue the training exercise, whilst the latecomer began warming up.

"Sae!" the coach waved over, to which he promptly jogged over. "This is Y/n L/n. He knows a bit of Japanese, apparently... Y/n, this is Sae. Don't bite him."

"THAT WAS A ONE TIME THING!!!" exclaimed a blushing Y/n, who recalled the memory with great embarrassment whilst trying to swat his coach away.

Sae could barely understand the conversation and watched the coach walk away, leaving them behind.

"Sorry about that, I promise I don't bite. Trust me. It was a one time thing with some guy who plays soccer. I don't know if you know him, he's kinda famous. But ever since then, coach never lets me live it down..." Y/n rambled on.

Sae just stared. Even if the boy spoke Japanese, he wasn't even sure if he'd catch it all.

"Oh, you don't understand me..." the boy suddenly realised, "Uhh...My name is L/n Y/n. But uh... Y/n okay".

Sae's eyes widened, hearing Japanese in a foreign country felt weirdly comforting. At least there was finally someone he could talk to without fear.

"Itoshi Sae. But Sae's fine." introduced Sae. "I'm a striker, what position do you play?"

"Uhh...(Insert favourite food)." Y/n cluelessly answered, praying that the question was about his favourite food.

Sae burst out laughing. It was the first time he ever laughed since arriving in Spain. Once again, Y/n was flushed in embarrassment. This is was now the second time he messed up an introduction to someone his coach brought.

As soon as Sae caught his breath, he began motioning to himself and an imaginary soccer ball. Before pretending to kick it with precision and power towards an imaginary goal. He then pointed towards Y/n with a questioning face.

"Ah...Same!" Y/n enthusiastically replied.

In the distance, the coach was gathering everyone up for another exercise.

"I should go now. It was nice meeting you." Sae said before running off.

Y/n stared at the retreating figure, he couldn't wait to tell his mum about Sae. Maybe excluding the part about his own poor excuse of Japanese.

"Y/N, QUIT DREAMING AND FINISH YOUR WARM UPS!"

A few months had passed since Sae arrived in Spain. With the help of Spanish classes and Y/n, he'd gradually been able to feel more at ease and understand everyone. As usual training was harsh and the overbearing heat wasn't helping anyone's will to live.

Except for Y/n.

"Hey! Did anyone see that goal just now!" Y/n beamed. He was currently, the only one out on the field, whilst the others took an extended break out of the sun.

"Alright, gather up!" called the coach, "We're ending today's practice here. I don't want any of you getting heatstroke or what not. Make sure to rest and stay hydrated. Understood?"

"Yes, coach."

"Especially you, Y/n! No more soccer today." the coach sternly reaffirmed.

"Hmph, fine." huffed Y/n in a pouty manner.

Everyone slowly trudged towards their bags before biding farewell to each other. Sae was lost at what to so. His routine for the past few months consisted of training, class, eating and sleeping with barely anytime for himself. Noticing his distress, Y/n decided to muster up his courage.

"Sae, wanna come to my house?" Y/n asked. With the help of Sae, Y/n's Japanese had also been improving.

"Sure" replied Sae.

"Cool, you can meet my mum. She's Japanese, so you can actually talk to her!" he exclaimed.

"You're half Japanese?" Sae asked, adjusting to Spanish. He gradually picked up Y/n's speaking habits. Such as using Spanish when he was excited or using Japanese to mess with people or a combination of both if he got too comfortable and lazy. Only when Sae switched languages with him, did Y/n notice.

"Ah, I did it again." Y/n sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, I learnt most of my Japanese from her. I guess I don't really look the part, I probably spend too much time in the sun."

"I though you learnt Japanese from anime." stated Sae, "You're always quoting random lines."

"Shush, only you hear that." Y/n playfully glared as he guided Sae back to his home.

Time seemed to fly as the pair spent time together sharing stories, discussing hobbies and touring the L/n household. Then the topic of family came up.

"I have a brother called Rin. He's gonna be the best striker after me." Sae proudly.

"Wait... you're the best striker after me!"

"Huh, no way! You're behind Rin." retorted Sae.

Before Y/n could argue back, the click of the front door unlocking attracted his attention. He grabbed a Sae by the wrist and rushed to the door.

"Welcome back!"

"I'm back," the female who stepped into the house replied, "Oh, is this Sae-kun you've brought back?"

"Mhm"

"It's nice to meet you, L/n-san." Sae politely greeted.

"Likewise, Sae-kun. I hope Y/n hasn't caused you too much trouble. Would you like to stay for dinner? I can cook Japanese food if you're feeling homesick." she offered. They continued to exchange words in Japanese, leaving a very clueless Y/n to look back and forth.

With the addition of Sae, the home was filled with of laughter. It had been a while since the L/n's were able to accomodate for another.

"Thank you for the dinner, it was delicious." complimented Sae.

"No problem, Sae-kun. You're welcome back anytime." replied the older L/n.

"Sae, you can come over everyday!" Y/n offered, oblivious to what his mother had just said.

"Hahaha...that's just what you mother just said, idiot."

"Oh."

Sae's lungs clawed for air as he hunched over trying keep his composure. He couldn't do it. He couldn't score. The defender's that swarmed like bees were tight knit and unrelenting.

The only reason they won, was because of Y/n's goals again. A goal that soared beautifully in the air with deadly speed, to a place nobody could reach. Everyone could either watch in fear or awe over and over again.

That was true essence of a striker.

"Dammit."

Every opportunity given to him always resulted in passing. It was like it was the only thing he could do.

"Sa-" Y/n hesitated. He knew the frustration of his friend. It had been multiple games since Sae had scored and it was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

What is the purpose of a striker, if not to score?

It was obvious to everyone that Sae was stressed, tired and most of all homesick. Y/n signalled to the coach before dragging Sae to the locker rooms.

They walked home in silence, hand in hand, with Sae lagging behind a little. It wasn't until after they snacked and showered that Sae began to talk.

"Sorry."

Y/n motioned Sae to sit down and turn around, so he could help dry his hair.

"For what?"

"I failed."

"Huh?" Y/n' questioned, like Sae had three heads, "I thought you were sorry for eating my food."

"I wouldn't apologise for that" Sae quickly replied.

"Hmph, meanie. I was joking." huffed Y/n, "You didn't fail me. You failed yourself...This might be wrong for me to say to a striker, but your assists are amazing! Like better than (Insert team's midfielder), because your passes are like really precise, so they're really easy to kick in the way I want. The ball always goes 'BOOM' when I receive it from you. But from others it's always like 'baaaaam' and there's nothing special behind it. Obviously its different when I move it up the field because then its always a 'BOOM'. If that makes sense...?"

By now, Y/n's hands had already stopped drying Sae's hair were waving around to imitate the sounds he made. He peeked over to see Sae's reaction, expecting joy from the compliment or anger from the insult as a striker. But was shockingly met with a blushing Sae.

"Uh...Sae?"

"You idiot, I can't understand you when you speak so fast in Spanish." he seethed and pushed Y/n's face away. His face clearly counteracted his words laced with annoyance.

"But if you didn't understand, why are you a tomato?" Y/n inched closer to whisper in his ear.

"Shut up!"

"HAHAHA! YOU SWITCHED TO JAPA-GWAH!"

Sae tackled the cackling boy and they wrestled around the room, knocking into the shelf and bed of Y/n's room. It wasn't till a stray soccer ball from an upper shelf smashed into the back Y/n's head, creating a domino effect that unfortunately ended with their foreheads colliding.

"Why on earth do you have a soccer ball on the top shelf?!"

"For moments like these!" Y/n exclaimed, using the opening to capture Sae into a tight hug.

"Hey! Let me go!" Sae yelled, struggling to break free.

"I'll teach you street soccer."

"Huh?"

"I'll teach you street soccer." Y/n repeated.

"I understood the first time, idiot"

"But you said 'huh'"

"How does that even benefit you?" muttered Sae.

"If it means I get you as my partner on the field, I'll do it." stated Y/n with determination.

"...Fine."

"One more thing, you're staying over tonight. There's salted seaweed in the kitchen. No take backsies!"

For the next year, Sae and Y/n trained together to share each others respective techniques and observations.

"I have a terrible self-awareness of whoever's behind me, when I have to trap a high ball mid air." Y/n randomly spilled.

"Don't tell me that, we're probably going to play each other in a warm up match." Sae panicked.

"Good." beamed Y/n, "Then I should learn how to fix it then."

"What if we play each other in the future?"

"Then it'll be even more fun! Just imagine it." Y/n happily replied. "But then again, if you apply for citizenship, we can play on the national team together."

"True. The Japanese team is lukewarm." Sae thoughtfully answered.

"Lukewarm?"

"Shut up." Sae half-heartedly glared, "I can't score when I'm anxious."

"I know." said Y/n, causing Sae to drop his head in disappointment. "Everyone can see your anxiousness on the field, which is why they take advantage of it. You gotta feel the desire to make them tremble under your skill and drop dead as you plow through the enemy territory...and finally score where no one expects!"

"...Did you take that from an anime?" laughed Sae.

"Hey! I was trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?"

After lots of teasing and laughing, they continued to practice diligently at mastering each others style and it was not long until they could show off their practice.

'You're all...lukewarm,' is what Itoshi Sae mindlessly repeated in his head.

A defender approached from his left, causing Sae to pause with the ball on the outside of his right foot. By protecting the ball on the opposite side, he swiftly performed a roulette and by passed them with ease. Another charged directly for him, allowing him to flaunt his speedy double touch.

He was readily approaching the goal, eyes piercing into the soul of the goalkeeper who could only cower in fear and beg for mercy.

This continued for many games, Sae would not only assist the others strikers, but also score himself. This brought great joy to everyone on the team, except for the coach, who was slightly troubled. It was no doubt that he was ecstatic about Sae's growth, but the problem lied in the team composition. If Sae was a striker, he'd need to fuel his ego even more and focus purely on being a scorer. But if he was a midfielder, he'd need to focus on stamina only, creating and executing plays.

Whilst performing both was possible as an attacking midfielder, Sae was registered as a striker and needed to make a decision about his position. No coach would be willing to create a team featuring a player that couldn't pick a position.

"Sae!" the coach called out, to talk privately after another victory.

"Yes, coach?"

"Sae, do you like to score?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you pass?"

Sae hesitated, for he didn't know the answer at first. Initially passing was a way of evading the enemy due to fear. But now, he had grown to overcome that and charged powerfully with a desire to score a goal.

"Because it's just as fun." Sae began.

"Fun?" questioned the coach, motioning him to expand.

"Dribbling past the enemy, only to pass to another," Sae explained, "is like..."

"Tch, you lukewarms. You're not worthy of seeing the full extent of my powers." a voice suddenly filled the silence.

"Y/n, why are you here?" the coach sighed not surprised at all.

"I'm hungry," replied Y/n, "So am I right?"

"Ehh, I don't know?" Sae responded.

The coach exhaled a deep breath, there was no point in shooing Y/n away, he'd most likely find out sooner or later.

"Sae, look up Alvaro Recoba and if you like his play style, then I'll be placing you as an attacking midfielder." the coach announced.

"M-midfielder?" both boys stuttered.

"I can't have you stealing the midfielder's job, if you're a striker." explained the coach, "You'll have to pick."

Sae nodded and allowed Y/n to drag him away.

"Goodnight, boys. Don't sleep too late." the older L/n reminded them before heading off to bed.

"Okay." they replied. Time passed quickly whilst Sae and Y/n were huddled together on Y/n's, watching videos of the Uruguayan midfielder, Alvaro Recoba.

"Woah! Can you do that Sae?" Y/n nudged. The maroon haired boy was unresponsive.

"Uh...Sae?" asked Y/n with concern.

Instead of answering, Sae posed his own question. "Are we still partners, if I become a midfielder?"

His thoughts orbited around his friendship with Y/n and soccer. Would they still have their personal practice time? Would Y/n abandon him to practice on his own? Or even worse, never want to play together anymore?

Y/n sat up straight and grabbed Sae's shoulders firmly to the others surprise. They stared for a while in silence.

"Don't play soccer or be a striker to be partners." Y/n firmly stated. "Never do something like that because it'll only make you empty. Got it?"

"Yeah." replied Sae, he was shocked at his friend's piercing gaze.

"If the only thing that changes is your title, I don't see why we wouldn't be." Y/n began, his seriousness seeping away, "In fact, you'd be my official partner because my goal is just as good as your goal. Without you, I wouldn't have scored in the first place."

Sae just nodded, allowing the words to sink in properly. After watching a few more videos, they retired for the night to their respective beds, or in Sae's case a futon. With his mind at peace, Sae could rest easily, unbeknownst that Y/n's mind was whirling with memories. It was going to be a long night for Y/n, who just gazed at the blank ceiling.

The next morning, Sae woke up well rested to the sound of oil sizzling and smell of miso soup. His friend was messily sprawled in his bed, still snoozing away.

"Good morning, Sae-kun." L/n M/n greeted Sae, who just arrived in the kitchen.

"Good morning L/n-san." replied Sae, who kept insisting to call her L/n-san.

"Is Y/n still asleep?" she asked. It wasn't unusual for him to sleep in, but it was increasingly rare.

"Mhm." Sae hummed as he accepted the plate of fish sprinkled with salted seaweed from her. The table had already been set with cutlery, bowls of miso soup and rice.

They began to converse about daily life, even though they had heard most of it from the yapper, Y/n.

"You're curious about why Y/n told you that, right?" M/n guessed, when she noticed Sae's hesitation after mentioned the conversation that occurred last night.

"A bit." admitted Sae, "But I don't think Y/n's comfortable about it, since it involves his father."

There was no doubt that they both deducted the reason why Y/n was sleeping in this morning.

"You're so patient, Sae-kun." M/n proudly smiled, resting her chin against her palm. "I'll tell you anyways."

"Eh?" Sae's eyes widened in shock.

"You've figured out most of it... and I trust you, Sae-kun." she said knowingly, standing up to grab a photo album off a nearby shelf.

"Y/n learnt soccer from his father at a young age." she began, showing a photo of a young Y/n and a man posing with a soccer ball. As she was flipping through the album, the man had stopped appearing in the photos. "They played everyday, until he passed due to a car accident when Y/n was eight. From then, he played soccer for his father and slowly lost himself. My only regret is isolating myself and not noticing earlier."

An awkward silence settled between them. Sae was at a loss of words, should he share his condolences or had it been too long since it happened? Or would it be better to promise to take care of Y/n?

"Thank you for being his friend." M/n added.

"Thank you for telling me and taking care of Y/n. I'm very grateful to call him my friend and I promise to take care of him." Sae stood up and bowed.

"Now...would you like to see more photos of Y/n?" she smiled sweetly, lightening the mood. She quickly grabbed another album containing embarrassing photos of Y/n such as tripping or being smacked in the face by a ball. Sae could only sweatdrop at the abundance of photos.

"Morn-" Y/n sleepily shuffled into the kitchen, "GAH! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THOSE!"

For the rest of the day, Sae couldn't make direct eye contact with Y/n without the images imprinted into his head from appearing.

Note: Thank you for reading. I hope it was clear to understand. I have plans to make a part 2, which is probably the final chapter.

[amazingdeadfish]

Special shoutout to a handful of my favourite frames, because they're either funny, or I'm bitter that I put in too much effort only for them to only appear for half a second.

Oh also this is on youtube now so

The Killing Kind Animatic

After three months, it is finally done! I hope you all enjoy the final product and, forgive me while I go into a mini hibernation because of burnout XDDD.

Screenshots I used as reference and/or traced

[verdantchan]

Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’  Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together. 

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty  and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed. 

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two. 

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest. 

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

 ‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies. 

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

 You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck. 

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell. 

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’  his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes. 

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you. 

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him? 

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’ 

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing. 

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below. 

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly,  messy waves falling in his face. 

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything. 

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow. 

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed. 

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away 

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole,  your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more 

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting. 

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size 

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you. 

 ‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’ 

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure. 

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily. 

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick.. 

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high  

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue. 

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy. 

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it. 

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

[bunny-jpeg]

lovingly dominant

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/30s), size difference/kink, dom/sub dynamic, bdsm au, virgin!reader, light bdsm, praise (kink)

a/n: in a surprising twist, bunny has written call of duty again!! expect more cod stuff into december when the f1 season is over and it stops eating my brain <3

john price considered himself a little old fashioned. he thought it was better to have his birdie of the week on her back and rut into her until they both finished. he had no need for whips, chains, collars, and whatever else the world of bdsm had to offer.

but after so many missions and so many years, the pollution of combat bled into his sexual desires. he craved for control, near domination of his birdie. yes, they looked cute on their backs and their soft noises. but it looked far more appealing to keep her blindfolded, second guessing what was being done to her while price's filthy words spilled across her brain like wine on a white carpet. tainting her. tainting you.

most dominants loved a trained submissive. loved that they knew the ins and outs of the dynamic, tinkering to their liking. price on the other hand had a thing for over eager virgins. ones who got all their bdsm know-how from horribly written fan fiction. he liked to teach and guide, he liked to shape his submissive into the perfect image of what could be.

and when he met you, oh, well something else came up. an unwavering possessive need. price tried to not get possessive, this was all just a little game for sexual pleasure. but when he found out his little trainee worked at a flower shop, it was all over for him. it was only doubled down when you had your first meeting at a coffee shop and you got the most delicious looking slice of strawberry shortcake.

the cream on the corner of your mouth almost made john price lose resolve. instead he covered up with a cough before you asked, "do you want some, mister price." and who was john price to deny such a lovely girl her offer. you even fed it to him, a glimmer in your eye and gentle smile.

"it's lovely, baby girl." he said before he wiped a bit of the cream off his beard which made you giggle. that giggle seared into his brain and he knew that you weren't getting with any other man.

you met at his flat a few weeks later, and you were eager. price liked that. sex was only half as fun when the person he was fucking was almost having a good time. you came over in a big sweatshirt and jeans that were a little baggy, something that covered up. it made price curious as to what was hiding underneath.

"look beautiful, birdie." he said as he guided you inside and you got your sneakers off. you looked over at him to help you through the flat. you held onto him a little nervous, the only familiar thing in the place. price held you by the middle and let you press your face up against his strong chest.

he was in a flannel with a white undershirt and jeans. you could see the gold chain around his throat and the heavy chest hair. you had seen him naked from photos shared and he had seen you naked, but to feel it up close left a shiver of excitement through you. he leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head as he led you to the bedroom.

he said, "afterwards, i'll make ya some dinner. not the best chef, but, i can cook ya somethin' to replenish the energy you spent fucking me." he then ruffled your hair, which made your heart leap and he got you onto the bed.

you nodded meekly, you looked so small. so innocent. a girl like you should be on dated with finance guys or even the artsy kind. not a weathered, older military man like him. but even things in smaller packages can be surprising, just like when you took off your clothes and revealed a matching set of bra and panties. a soft grey colour with pastel yellow accents. it made price have to adjust himself in his jeans.

"ah, pretty girl got a surprise for me. how sweet?"

you nodded, "i wanted to make tonight special. good luck for a long... dynamic between us. so, you don't get rid of me if i suck." and soon you were in price's embrace while you still sat on the bed. your cheek pressed hard against his soft but firm middle.

he petted your head a little and said, "ah, don't worry, petal. even if you do bad tonight, i got every intention of trainin' ya. make you the perfect girl." the words spoken hit right to your core and when he pulled away long enough to strip down, you felt your eyes go wide for a moment.

a photo couldn't capture every inch of john price's skin. the scars, the tattoos, the hair, the muscle, the fat. he was like a big brown bear and it made you soaked. you shifted a little in your spot on the bed and rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. it was surprising that you were still a virgin, but you always chickened out. now as an adult, you wanted to just get it over with. but, you wanted to have fun. and why not have fun with a well experienced dom who wouldn't half-ass your first time. it didn't hurt that he had the kind of looks that would make any man with half a brain jealous.

"i hope i meet expectations." he chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. his cock stood at full attention and you swallowed. there was something so masculine about him, but not in a toxic way. he played with your hair once more before he patted your cheek, "no need to gawk, petal. i'm not goin' anywhere." and you swallowed. he chuckled before he got into bed with you and slowly unwrapped you of your lingerie like delicate christmas paper.

he hadn't been this excited to upwrap something since he got the toy firetruck as a kid. but in total fairness, you were hotter than any fire red truck. his hands grazed across your body with total tenderness and his hungry blue eyes gazed the skin.

the stretch marks, the moles, your own scarring. you were beautiful in ways that price couldn't describe. to compare you to something would be unfair to the thing being compared to your beauty. he took you by the wrist and kissed the center of it.

"this is a promise, petal. for as long as you keep me as your dominant and you my submissive, i with cherish you, adore you, and most of all. make sure that you cum over and over again." before he kissed you on the lips and got you onto your back. he admired you, "usually i like to take pretty things on their hands and knees. but, tonight's gotta be special, right, doll?"

you nodded.

he tapped your nose and said, "ah, ah, ah. that won't cut it. the words are 'yes, sir', got it? would hate to bruise that little behind during our first time."

you found your voice and said, "yes, sir." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek before price pulled away to rest on his knees to fuck you with just right. you felt heat course through your body as you took in the sight of him. burly, large from top to bottom.

course dark hair on his body, a little heft in his middle (but who didn't love that), a sparkle in his blue eyes, and hands large enough to break things between the digits. he admired you in return and said softly, "pretty little petal, yeah? ah, who let ya be so beautiful?" he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your slick sex, "i got so much to teach ya. how to tie ya up, how to gag ya properly. mmm, we'll have so much fun." he then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand. he held up the silver foil to you and said, "rule one, play safe or don't play at all."

you nodded and remembered to reply, "yes, sir."

price gave you a smile that lit you up and said, "good girl." then quickly got the condom on. he admired your soaked sex for a moment longer, "she achin' for me, huh? cute." then slowly, almost agonizingly, he inched into you and felt the spread of warmth through his body.

heaven was created with your pussy in mind. price was never a quick finisher, but he almost finished inside of you when he managed to get all of himself inside of you. he kept eyes and ears open, the type of examining done in his line of work, to make sure that you weren't in too much pain.

"ya alright?"

you nodded and swallowed.

price added, "baby girl. words." and then nodded his head when you replied that everything was okay, he nodded and said, "roger that." which made you pussy clench. a smile spread across price's face as he leaned forward. he captured your hands in his and pressed them to the bed under you. he chuckled lowly, "ah, someone likes a military man? a man in uniform gets ya goin'?" he kissed your pulse point, "ah, too cute, petal. i guess seeing that on my description didn't scare ya off." he rocked against you, "know it's a crime to mess up a man's uniform."

you swallowed, "sir. fuck." and felt the strike of heat through your body. you had to admit, you had seen a few photos of him in uniform. the beret, boots and all. and it made something turn in your stomach. only added an appeal to him that made you hot.

price replied, "i guess it worked out. because i like cute little civilians who are more than eager to make me feel good. doin' your civic duty makin' me cum, baby girl." these was a tension in his voice that made you heart hammer and your throat feel tight. the bed squeaked a little under the both of you as he continued his movements. he knew he was going to have an amazing time with you.

you whined, "please, sir."

"tell me. tell me what ya like about it? what gets my baby girl goin'? i gotta know, because maybe i can get somethin' together that'll rock your world." his words were hot and your cunt fluttered around his achy, hard cock. for a moment he was uncertain if you were actually a virgin, you took him so well.

you moaned when you felt a spark of pleasure in your core, your entire life had just been your hands and an assortment of toys. but to have price work your body beautifully was something else. you replied sweetly, "i... i want to thigh ride you in uniform." you felt a flush of embarrassment.

he chuckled, "oh that would be quite the sight, huh?" he continued to move against you beautifully, "i bet that i could make ya cum just from my thighs. rub your cunt all over it, messin' up the fabric. higher-ups will be wonderin' about the pussy stains all over the fabric. maybe if i'm lucky i'll get some of your wetness in my beard. let 'em smell you on me." and well, that excited you deeply.

you arched your back a little bit, but price kept you pinned perfectly under him. you tightened your thighs around him and he continued to work your body. it wasn't rough sex, but it also wasn't boringly soft either. he worked you at a steady pace, like a man with immense stamina. he eyed the bounce of your breasts and he moved against you.

he licked his lips at the sight of you, "baby girl." he purred, "you're a dirty girl. but don't worry." he soon held onto your wrists instead of your hands, a further act of domination, "i like 'em dirty. i like girls i can sink my teeth into. soon enough you won't be able to cum unless it's my fingers, tongue or cock in you. ya got the kind of soft skin that would bruise perfectly. but be careful, petal, i can be quite mean with a paddle." and it was met with a heavy moan. music to his ears.

you had never been spoken to like this before, but it excited you. you wanted to be price's dirty girl any day of the week. you felt excitement cross over you as he picked up the pace. the two of you fucked heavily and it left a taste of want in your mouth. this was better than anything you hoped for. it wasn't just that price checked boxes on a superficial level, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and moan. heavy noises came from your mouth as he worked your achy cunt, you felt amazing.

"ya like knowin' that i'm your first. big, scary captain makin' a mess of the sweetest cunt in the world. knowin' in a way, i got ya for life." he licked his lips. he liked that you were pure in that way, call him old fashioned. but knowing that he got to have you first was sort of like getting the first slice of cake at a party. something he wished to sweetly devour. and with you it was with heavy thrusts and filthy words. taint you to his liking.

you whined as you clenched your fists, you tensed up and he loved the feeling. he could almost read your mind with how sweet you felt. he could nearly feel your heartbeat as he fucked you. he loved the sight of you, you looked damn near perfect under him. you said between heavy pants, "please, sir. fuck, please!"

"feel good, petal? like how i take you." he moved against you further and it left him feeling the anticipation for climax. he continued to fuck your sweet body, working every last centimeter of warm skin, "remember, ya gotta ask me to cum."

his movements were overwhelming, his pace left you feeling breathless. and in your first lesson of intimacy, you croaked out, "can i cum, sir? please, i need to cum."

and price could be a giving man. he looked down at you, haze in those blue eyes as he said, "of course, baby girl. cum for me, cum for your captain." and swore under his breath as you beautifully came apart for him. he held onto your wrists tighter and groaned. it paired nicely with your sweet little moans.

"sir! fuck!" you gasped as you clenched around him. you finished and it only prompted him to move faster while you laid in such a blissed out state. no one had made you finish like that, not even your own nimble digits.

but price was just that good.

the bed creaked further and the headboard hit against the beige wall of the bedroom. he fucked you faster and made sure to cram every inch inside of you. with a few more heavy strokes, he finished into of you with a heavy groan. he fucked you through his climax before he slowed to a stop.

he wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply, "beauty, beauty. where has the world been hidin' ya from me." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips. you melted against him and moaned.

when he pulled out, he got up with a creak in his hip to throw out the condom before he was back in bed with you. you were both naked under the covers as price traced your form with his calloused fingers. the roughness on your soft skin made you shiver.

"how about it, lovie." he said in that low, gruff tone of his. his hand grazed across your side and behind, "how about i invite the boys over and their little birdies and we can have a little playdate. introduce you to the group."

you swallowed, "play... date?"

price pulled you closer. he held onto you the way someone would hold a stuffed animal. he smiled at you, "don't worry, petal. no one's gettin' their hands on ya. not while i'm still breathin'." his voice was tinged with a possessiveness. you nodded in response and he added, "besides, i know i'll make the boys nice and jealous with you." he chuckled, "my beautiful baby girl." then kissed you on the lips.

you could only imagine what would happen at a playdate with price's friends and their submissives. it also didn't help that it made you a little excited as well. <3

[augustinewrites]

it’s been…a while since you and satoru have gone on an assignment together.

having two young children at home made it difficult to take off on short notice and be away for days at a time. they needed stability and routine, so the two of you had decided that one person would stay home while the other was working.

for a while, that’d worked fine. but now that megumi and tsumiki were older, self-sufficient teens who loved nothing more than being left alone, satoru had seen this as an opportunity.

you’d still been a little hesitant, but it was a simple surveillance mission. easy, right?

“water. you need to stay hydrated.” you instruct when he gets back into the car. he takes the water bottle you’re holding out, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

“gakuganji isn’t even home yet,” he reports with a sigh. you hum, distracted as you check your phone. gojo reaches across your knees to pull open the glovebox, rifling through colourful snack wrappers.

“tsumiki hasn’t texted me back,” you mutter. “should i ask nanami to check in on them?”

“nah, i’m sure they’re just super busy trashing the apartment and racking up charges on the emergency credit card. ah– found it!” he pulls out a black silk sleep mask, slipping it on so it rests on his forehead.

“really?” you ask, unimpressed as he holds a second one out to you. “you’re taking a nap?”

“yeah, it’ll be easier to sneak around when it’s dark, why stay awake till then?”

“is that a good idea?” you ask, though you know there’s really no point in trying to argue with his logic.

“your fault for keeping me awake all night. late night laundry folding is no joke.”

“if you’d put it in the dryer when i’d asked—”

“can’t hear you,” he sing-songs, pulling the mask over his eyes. “you can take a nap too, you know. that old fart couldn’t get past us even while asleep.”

“i’ll pass on the nap. need to wait for tsumiki to text.”

he grumbles something incoherent that you’re sure is meant to be argumentative as he reclines his seat a little and lays back, getting comfortable and quiet.

…for about 45 seconds.

you watch out of the corner of your eye as he pulls the mask up a half inch, just enough for his right eye to observe you.

“what do you want now?” you ask.

then, with casualty akin to asking what you want for lunch, he clears his throat and asks, “do you want to have sex?”

“do i want to have what?” you ask, turning to stare at him incredulously, but your face is hot and for a split second, you’d considered agreeing.

“sex,” he repeats, patting his lap with a shit-eating grin. “we’re going to be here for a while, anyways. these seats recline way back—”

“i am not having sex in this car with you, satoru!”

he groans over-dramatically (as he tends to do). “will you at least cuddle with me then? i’m desperate and touch-starved and hopelessly in love with you!”

you make a note to figure out what cheesy rom com he stole that line from, but lean across the console to trail kisses up his shoulder, his neck. satoru does nothing to protect himself from your overly affectionate onslaught, he’s quick to catch your jaw, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

“wait. no, no, no!” he protests when you pull back, eyes suddenly trained on the house you’re meant to be watching. “you can’t just leave me high and dry—”

“he’s home!” you whisper, pressing a hand over his mouth (though he continues with muffled complaints). “pull the car a little further back before we get out.”

you’ve already summoned your shikigami as satoru maneuvers the car into the dense forestry, about to send them off when your phone vibrates in your lap.

“oh! megumi texted me,” you inform him. “he said…‘already made dinner. tsumiki is out on a date—’”

the car grinds to a halt and abruptly turns, the momentum causing your to slam into the side of the car as it peels out onto the dirt road. you curse loudly as your fiancé, devoid of all his playfulness from earlier, speeds through the forest.

“what the— satoru!”

[taegularities]

colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)

Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.

But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.

They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—

“Angel? Breathe.”

Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.

Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.

Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.

Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.

In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”

“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”

She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.

Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”

The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?

“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”

“Oh, I’m…”

Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”

Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.

You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.

The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.

In some sense, it’s worse.

Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.

There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.

You follow.

You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.

He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”

You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”

You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”

His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.

You’re incorrect.

It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.

Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.

Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.

There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.

You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.

Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.

But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”

But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”

She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”

The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.

This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.

You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.

Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.

The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”

“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”

“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”

“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”

“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”

“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”

“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”

“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”

His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”

Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”

Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.

Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.

“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”

It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 

Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.

You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.

The city called and it kept them.

You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.

“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”

His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”

“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”

“I’m trying to, really.”

Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.

You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.

And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”

But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”

You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.

She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.

You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.

And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—

“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.

His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”

Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”

It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.

His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”

To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.

His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”

As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”

“I was.”

“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”

He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”

You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”

“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”

Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”

“Damn, Kook.”

He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.

You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.

Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”

“Helloooo!”

And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”

“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”

She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.

They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.

The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?

Weird.

“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”

Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.

Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”

Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”

Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”

Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.

Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.

Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”

Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”

Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.

She’s not going to…

No.

Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”

Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.

So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.

You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.

You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.

One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”

“That’s crazy.”

She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.

This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.

“What is?” you ask.

“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”

Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.

You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.

“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”

“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”

Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”

“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”

Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.

“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”

She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”

“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”

“You say it so… weirdly.”

Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”

You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”

“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”

You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.

Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”

“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”

“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”

It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.

Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.

You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.

Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.

Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”

His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.

“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?

You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.

So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.

God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?

“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”

It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.

She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.

His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.

Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.

The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.

The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 

You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.

Yearning.

But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.

Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.

The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.

Reminiscent of a youth.

Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.

The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.

“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”

He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…

“Victoria’s Secret?”

“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—

You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”

You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.

You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.

Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.

“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”

You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.

But then again…

When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.

“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”

“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”

You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 

The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.

“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”

“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”

“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”

Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.

“Gureum?” you repeat.

“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”

But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”

“Okay. Okay…”

The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”

Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”

You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.

The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”

He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.

Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”

You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.

But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”

He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”

The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.

A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”

“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”

“You could take him to the city.”

“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”

Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?

“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”

“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”

“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”

The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.

“He’s old?” you wonder.

“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”

One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.

He just is… He just is.

“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.

The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.

Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.

And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”

He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.

“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”

Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”

“Oh— Really? How so?”

You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.

“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”

Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”

“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”

“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”

“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”

“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”

You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.

“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”

His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”

You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”

It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.

And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”

And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”

You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.

But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 

He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”

Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.

The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.

So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.

As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”

You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.

Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”

“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”

Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.

Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.

Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”

“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.

And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.

The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.

Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”

The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”

“Right?”

“They don’t taste like this in the city!”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”

“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”

Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.

He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?

“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”

You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.

What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.

The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.

His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”

A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”

Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.

His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.

Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.

But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”

Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.

On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.

And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.

Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.

You understand.

Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.

Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.

“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”

You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”

“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.

“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”

You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.

You can wait. Things can wait.

You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.

In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.

But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.

The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.

Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.

You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.

Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.

You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.

Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.

Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.

You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.

As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.

You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”

“I really wanted to help, though.”

It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.

“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”

The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.

How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.

Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”

But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”

“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”

As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”

Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”

“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”

Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”

“Nonsense.”

Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.

As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”

But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.

You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.

It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.

No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”

“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.

“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”

“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.

“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”

Fuck.

“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”

“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”

“What are you talking ab—”

“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”

It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.

But it’s hard to listen.

Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.

And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.

Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.

“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”

“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”

“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”

As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.

But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.

“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”

But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.

“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.

It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.

You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.

It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.

You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.

The fire in his eyes is blue.

And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”

This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”

Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”

Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”

So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.

God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.

But…

Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?

Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?

He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 

You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.

Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.

You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.

When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 

His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“Kook…”

“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”

“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”

His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…

“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”

“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.

And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.

He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?

Why can’t he love me?

And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.

It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.

But he keeps believing—

“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”

“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.

“Not for a second,” you say.

Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.

You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.

Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.

You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.

And it does fifteen minutes later.

The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.

You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.

Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”

Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.

“It’s okay.”

She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.

But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”

“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”

You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.

“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”

No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.

Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.

His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 

His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?

Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.

You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.

Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”

And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.

“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.”

And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.

But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.

To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.

When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.

Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.

Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.

His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.

Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 

Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”

“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”

“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”

Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.

You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”

“Sure!”

The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.

Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.

You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.

The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.

You’re thankful.

“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.

You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”

She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”

You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”

Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.

So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…

“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”

“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”

You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”

But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”

“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”

You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.

And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”

Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.

She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.

You remember…

I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.

You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”

“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”

You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.

And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.

You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—

“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”

Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”

“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”

Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”

Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”

Shit…

“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”

“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”

You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.

The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.

One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”

“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”

You walk down the steps to the basement.

The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.

He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.

But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”

“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”

He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”

“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.

It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.

They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.

He does this often. Zone off like this.

Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.

“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.

“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”

A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”

“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”

“Yeah…”

He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.

It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.

But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.

Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.

You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.

And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.

He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.

You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.

You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”

“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”

You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”

To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”

“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”

“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”

“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”

“Shut up.”

You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”

“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”

You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.

Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.

Make up, probably.

Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.

So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.

And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.

Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?

But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.

If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.

And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.

The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?

You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.

And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.

He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”

“What are you even?”

You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”

“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”

Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.

The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.

And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.

Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”

“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”

You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”

“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”

Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”

You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 

So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”

“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”

It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.

You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”

“And I got it for you.”

Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.

Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.

You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…

“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”

“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”

A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?

They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.

You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”

“It’ll suit you.”

“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”

“Ah… I can try.”

“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”

And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.

“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”

“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”

“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”

You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.

“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.

And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”

Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.

You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.

And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.

I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?

A tease here, a flirt there.

You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.

Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.

The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.

Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.

“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.

She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”

Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?

Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”

“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”

Ah.

Ah…

The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.

Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.

Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?

Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.

Ahhh…

So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.

How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…

Come on. Unrealistic.

Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.

To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.

Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.

“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”

Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”

Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.

For the very first time.

Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?

Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.

Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”

She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”

She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 

Well. Okay.

You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.

He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”

“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”

You smile.

Okay…

It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.

Okay.

You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.

You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.

His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.

The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.

They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.

But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.

You take a deep breath.

All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.

Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.

The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.

You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.

Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”

You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 

And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”

“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”

Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”

“Yep. And you came over from the city?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”

Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”

“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.

Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.

It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.

And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.

Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”

Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.

You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.

And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.

Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.

“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.

“Why?”

Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”

So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”

Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”

“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”

“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”

“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.

Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.

People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.

You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

Ah…

“Hm?”

“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”

Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.

“Oh— Kook—”

“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”

“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”

He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.

Well… at least now.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”

You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.

Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”

The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.

And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.

Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?

And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.

In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.

But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.

You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.

Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.

Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.

You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.

It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.

The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.

Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.

He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.

She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.

But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.

He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”

“Would you… want to marry me one day?”

“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.

It’s a song.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”

“You probably do.”

“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”

Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.

“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.

You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.

Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.

You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.

When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.

You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.

The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.

No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.

And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—

“This… this is it.”

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

1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[luveline]

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 

“I’m so happy.” 

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 

“What’s the album?” he asks. 

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 

He stills. “They are?” 

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 

“Thank you for the cookie.” 

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 

[justauthoring]

I really like your Tokyo revengers He’s Taken scenario. What if it happened in reverse where someone told the boys that they would be a better fit for reader <3

TOKYO REVENGERS - UM, SHE'S TAKEN?

includes: manjiro "mikey" sano, hanma shuji, baji keisuke and kazutora hanemiya all include xfem!reader!

a/n: this is so late but i felt i should actually do a request for once :) and i always love me some jealous boys!

MIKEY:

The audacity of this man.

That was all Mikey could think.

Did he not know who he was? Did he not know who you were dating? The Invisible Mikey, Toman's Leader and the most handsome boy you knew?

Clearly not.

Frowning, Mikey watches with barely concealed disdain as your classmate (the one you’ve been complaining to him about for weeks now) follows you outside of the school. He couldn’t always pick you up from school with Toman business and the like, but today he’d made sure he’d be able to after you’d texted him the day before that your annoying classmate had proceeded to take his infatuation with you a step further and follow you out of school. It had taken you great convincing to get him not to ‘walk you home’ as he so eloquently put it – stalking more like it – and though you’d tried to play it off, Mikey knew how scared you were.

The second your eyes fall on Mikey making his way over to you, he sees the instant relief that floods through them. Despite everything, Mikey can't help but feel slightly smug at that, hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets as he crosses the distance over to you.

"Y/N-channn!" He calls out, arms stretched out towards you and with a single brief glance at the boy next to you, you all but race towards him, allowing yourself to fall into his arms. Mikey hates the way he feels you shake slightly beneath his fingertips, and he throws a not-so-subtle glare the classmates way, who – as he figured – is glaring right back at him.

"Y/N," the classmate calls, and Mikey's eyes narrow at his familiarity when regarding you. "Who's this?"

You lean back from his hug, and Mikey can see you look rather annoyed at the question – clearly, you've told him this before.

"Mikey," Mikey cuts in dryly, "her boyfriend."

And he must really not know who Mikey is because he has the gall to laugh.

"Boyfriend?" Haru laughs, mockingly and loudly, head thrown back as you cast a quick glance up at Mikey in uncertainy, trying to gauge he's reaction. Truthfully, Mikey looks unphased. "I thought you were joking about that, Y/N."

And then Haru steps forward, moving towards you; "I mean, you and me make a much better–"

It happens in a flash. Suddenly, you're no longer in Mikey's arms and rather set gently behind him, Mikey’s body blocking your view as Haru's hand that was outstretched towards you is now tightly grasped in Mikey's fist. A quick glance at Haru's face, and you can tell that Mikey's grip is tight, his face twisting with pain.

"Did I forget to mention?" Mikey smiles, "I'm also the leader of Toman."

Haru's eyes widen and he looks scared–well, shitless.

Mikey's grip tightens, finding the way all colour leaves Haru's face rather amusing and the way the panic wells with pain as Mikey bends his arm to the point of just being about to break.

"Now, what was that about you and Y/N-chan being a better match?"

"I was wrong!" Haru cries, voice pitching pathetically, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!"

"Don't apologize to me," Mikey shrugs, "apologize to Y/N-chan for making her so uncomfortable for the past few weeks."

Slowly, Mikey takes a step back, allowing you to fall in the view of Haru again, who, near crying, falls to his knees. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!"

Cheeks red slightly in embarrassment, you turn to Mikey.

He lets go with ease, Haru falling to the ground with one last cry, before Mikey makes his way to you, pulling you back into his arms with a wide grin.

"Let's go eat!" Mikey calls out with a cheer, snuggling into you. "I want you to feed me!"

HANMA:

"I mean, you're no good for her."

There's a beat. One long, single beat of silence before Hanma can't hold himself back anymore and he burst into laughter.

You, whose stood next to him, looks at him in disbelief, eyes widening as Hanma all but cackles in response to Asahi's words. Asahi, to be fair, looks just a stunned, and with a frown, you step towards your boyfriend, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

"Shuji!" You hiss, grip tightening on him.

He falls quiet at that, letting his eyes drift across you briefly, taking in the worried look in your eyes and the laughter stops at that. Hanma lets his eyes fall back on this boy, Asahi apparently, and the frown deepens – you were scared of this guy? He looked like wind might blow him over.

Besides, didn't you trust him to protect you?

A single glance back at you, and you're still throwing worried glances at Asahi, shuffled close to his side.

Guess he had something else to prove then.

"That's funny," Hanma finally speaks up, letting his eyes fall on Asahi with disinterest. "Hilarious actually." But all the humour has left his body, and Hanma simply stares back at the boy with a straight face.

Asahi falters, just slightly.

"I-I mean, you're a deliquent!" He calls out, gesturning in front of him at Hanma, before his eyes fall on you. "I mean, surely you can see that being with him will be nothing but a bad influence. If you were–"

Hanma steps in front of you, blocking you effectively from him.

"You don't get to talk to her," Hanma states rather bluntly.

Asahi turns to him, lips parting.

"You're not worthy enough to talk to her, pipsqueak. So let's keep this between you and me, huh?"

The air changes, thickens, and although you can't see it, you can practically sense as Asahi grows nervous, registering the glint in Hanma's gaze as he stares him down.

"I mean, surely, if you knew I was a... what did you say? Delinquent." Hanma snorts, "you think you'd have the brains to realize I'm not someone to mess with. And I don't take kindly to idiots like you trying to tell me who my girl should or shouldn't be with."

Hanma takes a step forward then, towering over the boy whose skin has grown pale, eyes flooding with fear as he stares up at Hanma.

"I especially don't take kindly to you scaring my girl either."

"I-I–"

Grabbing Asahi by the collar of his jacket, Asahi falls silent as Hanma pulls him up until he's standing on the tip of his toes, kicking his feet beneath him.

"But it seems I screwed up too, huh? My girl shouldn't have to be afraid because she should know I'd never let anyone touch her, let alone look at her if they made her uncomfortable."

There's a pause and Hanma's gaze grows wild as his fist slowly raises beside him, Asahi's cries of panic and pleads of mercy simply a background noise.

"So it looks like I gotta show her why."

BAJI:

"You're loud."

Well, Baji guessed he couldn't necessarily argue with that.

"You're rash."

That, too... maybe.

"You're not very smart."

Uh, ouch.

"You act without thinking. It could get Y/N hurt."

Okay, well that was just rude.

You were always Baji's top priority.

Well, that and fighting. But, still.

"I think I'd be a much better fit for her."

Baji should've figured this is where the conversation was going. Letting his eyes drift across the boy stood in front of him, he takes in the sight of his Toman uniform. He doesn't readily recognize the boy, so he's certainly not in his division.

Ballsy, he'd admit.

But stupid nonetheless.

He's probably in Mitsuya's division, Baji laughs to himself.

Well, not for much longer.

"I'll take your silence as a sign you agree with me–"

"I wouldn't jump to conclusions," Baji chuckles, grinning down widely at the boy. "What makes you think you're so great for Y/N? I know she's happy with me."

Lips parting, the boy pauses; "what?"

"You listed off all the reasons why you think I'm not a good fit for her, right?" He quirks a brow, and the boy nods. "So, tell me why you think you're a good match for her. You win, I'll break up with Y/N. And if you lose... well, needless to say." With a wide grin, Baji cracks his knuckles, baring his fists down at the boy.

The boys eyes widen, and he fumbles for a second, before he steels himself, inhaling deeply.

"Well, I'm smart, for one–"

"Wrong," Baji cuts in, "Y/N doesn't like smart guys. Why else would she have gone for me?"

Faltering, the boy shakes his head; "w-well, I'm a good cook–"

"Y/N prefers cooking herself," Baji shakes his head. "It's her passion."

Cheeks redenning, the boy rushes to add; "I-I'm! I'm strong!"

Baji just laughs; "not as strong as me. You're not even a vice captain of Toman!"

Thoroughly embarrassed, the boy hesitates, face bright red.

"Looks like you lose," Baji sings, stepping towards the boy. "I mean, if you really knew Y/N, you'd know the most important thing."

"W-What?"

"That none of that matters because she loves me!"

"You can't just–"

He never finishes what he's about to say before a fist makes contact with his cheek, knocking him off his feet and sending him straight to the ground.

Baji glances down at him with a blink.

"Strong my ass."

He makes a move toward him, before;

"Keisuke!"

Eyes lighting up, Baji spins, grinning at the sight of you. "Y/N!"

You fall in front of him, eyes flickering from the boy groaning on the ground back to him, "did you get in another fight again?"

Baji shrugs; "the guy deserved it. Not much of a fight either.”

And your eyes fall back on the boy on the ground and there's a flicker of hope where he thinks you might help but, but then after a moment you follow Baji's lead, shrugging, letting him take your hand in his before leading him off.

Guess Baji was right – you really did love him.

KAZUTORA:

"I mean, didn't you go to juvie?"

Frowning, Kazutora glares at the man, Daiki as he'd introduced himself as, in front of him. He was apparently a co-worker of yours, though Kazutora's never heard you talk about him before.

Stuck at this party your work was holding for you as a celebration for the promotion you'd received and your excellent work at the company, Kazutora had gotten a whole half hour of your time before you'd been whisked off by two woman, you offering an apologetic smile over your shoulder in response.

At the time, Kazutora hadn't minded – this night was for you after all and he wanted you to enjoy it.

Now, though? He desperately wanted to leave.

"How do you even know that?" Kazutora asks, his patience thin.

"I did some research when Y/N mentioned your name," Daiki shrugs. "Of course, when she mentioned you she hadn't mentioned that."

It's obviously meant as a jab. But Kazutora knew you weren't embarrassed of him – at least, he'd been pretty sure of that.

"Well, it's not really any of your business is it?" Kazutora cuts in, barely able to contain the snide in his tone. He barely liked socializing with people anyway, especially strangers, but he'd gone for you and because he wanted to be apart of your celebration. It was the least he could do after all you'd done for him.

But now he wishes he’d stayed home if he had to continue dealing with this guy.

"Still," Daiki insists, "aren't you embarrassed? I mean, such an upstanding woman... it's a wonder why she ever chose you."

"I chose him because I love him for him," you cut in and Kazutora’s eyes widen, glancing over his shoulder to see you making your way over to him. You look absolutely stunning, dressed in a floor length Y/F/C dress and when you notice his eyes on you, you smile at him, before it falters as you turn back to glance at your coworker. "But I hardly think that's any of your business anyways."

You fall next to Kazutora, wrapping your arm around his waist as you fall into his side, and the second you do, you squeeze Kazutora's side, and he realizes you're trying to reassure him.

"Y/N–!"

"Honestly, Daiki," you breathe out, voice coming out purposely exasperated as you roll your eyes. "I've had this conversation with you multiple times. I am happily in a relationship and your obsession with my personal affairs is strange and inappropriate. Given my promotion, I could easily have you fired."

Kazutora watches as the man's eyes widen, cheeks bleeding red as he shakes his head; "my-my apologies. Please, you don't have to go that far. I'll... I'll make sure I stop."

You raise a brow, holding the man with bated breath for a moment, before you nod. "Just don't let it happen again."

Daiki scurries off without another word, desperate to get away and Kazutora watches as you let out a sigh, shoulders falling as you shift, coming to stand in front of him, hands falling on his hips.

"I'm sorry about him. He's been... annoyingly persistant about asking me out for the past bit. I thought he'd have stopped when I reported him last week but when I saw him talking to you just now, I realized he hadn't."

Kazutora glances down at you, meeting your gaze.

You understand what he's trying to say before he even does; "nuh-uh," you shake your head, tugging him closer to you. "Don't let a word that idiot says get to you. He's just a pervert anyways. He spends half of his time looking down my shirt and I would never want to be with someone like him over you."

Biting his lips, Kazutora smiles softly; "I love you."

"I love you too," you grin, before slipping your hand into his. "Now, come on, I want to introduce you to my friends."

[mossangelll]

what arcane characters would be like at christmas!

inspired by @cosmicporos whose work is here <3

i’m in the christmas spirit and wanted to do a sillier post on what some arcane characters are like at this time of the year! once christmas and exams are over, i’ll get back to working through requests ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Jinx:

jinx gifts you something homemade, maybe a scrapbook of all the things you did together throughout the year?

aw omg i bet she’s amazing at taking secret pics…there’s so many embarrassing pictures of you in there but you can’t even hate it when she doodles love hearts right next to them :’)

all the pictures inside would be meticulously dated with a corresponding memory to go underneath

she wants to show you how much she cares!

jinx would love anything you give her, but she would swoon if you got her materials to make more chomper bombs - she loves how accepting and enthusiastic you are of her hobbies

jinx’s favourite holiday activity is decorating!

she loves getting into a festive spirit where it’s seen as more acceptable to be goofy and childlike?

she’s very thrifty so i feel like most of the decor is stuff you guys make together in front of a warm fire while it snows outside hehe

makes cranberry and popcorn garlands which you guys end up eating by the end of the week

there’s just plain string all over the place 😭

obviously there will be christmas themed graffiti

instead of a star or angel on top of the tree, she makes miniature figurines of you two hugging to stick on top

she is incredibly down bad for you and loves the holidays because she gets to be extra sentimental

gets a stupidly skinny christmas tree that barely has enough branches to wrap decorations around but she wouldn’t have it any other way

jinx doesn’t want to take everything tooooo seriously

jinx’s favourite christmas song is i wish it could be christmas everyday

Vi:

vi gifts you your own leather jacket! it's second hand and a bit worn through but she tried her best

you always spoke about how much you loved her jacket and now you two can match

irons and pins on patches of your favourite bands all over the jacket

spends so much time into making sure it looks perfect for you

i can see you two wearing each other’s jackets a lot so you can smell like one another

best investment ever - now everyone knows you two are made for each other

she would love it if you gifted her boxing gloves in her signature colour!

vi’s favourite holiday activity is sledding!

she probably uses an old sled her and jinx made together when they were younger

it’s seen better days but she doesn’t want to give it up anytime soon

better wear a helmet in case the whole sled comes apart as you ride it 😭

she’s the kind of person to convince you to let her push the sled down a steep hill… she cheers as you scream in fear

when you asked her if it was safe she winked and told you to trust her 😐

big mistake but how can you say no to her???

you both land in a heap of snow at the bottom, laughing so hard you have to catch your breath as snowflakes melts into your hair

she rolls you around in the snow and kisses you for a loooooong time hehe

vi’s favourite christmas song is baby it’s cold outside

Ekko:

ekko gifts you a painting he made of you!

he’s very nervous when he does, watching for every little reaction on your face - he just wants to know that he did a good job and made you happy

how could you not like it? he captures your likeness so well it feels like looking in a very flattering mirror

you can tell how much love and thought he put into it

he would love it if you gifted him more face paint and hair dye - even better if you offer to do it for him!

ekko’s favourite holiday activity is playing in the snow!

snowball fights, building snowmen and igloos, making snow angels - all of it!

this guy LOCKS IN when it comes to snowball fights

honestly sometimes you want to say no bcs he gets a bit too committed and you feel like you’re getting hunted down 😭

but then he promises to make you hot chocolate when you get inside so it works out in the end

accidentally pelts you in the face with a solid snowball and his face drops

he runs over to where you got knocked over and is worriedly checking you all over to make sure you’re not hurt

that’s when you shove snow down his back and run away in a fit of giggles

he goes still before he starts to chase after you - you both launch snow at each other for house

yeah, you both get ill after that 😭

ekko’s favourite christmas song is santa clause is coming to town

Jayce: 

jayce gifts you jewellery he forged himself :3

i can see him dragging you along to the workshop, making you watch him be all sweaty and hot for hours (you’re not complaining)

if you ask what exactly he’s making there he brushes it off as a custom piece of equipment needed for his experiments - little do you know it’s actually gifts for you

when he does gift it to you he has the most smug look in his face

who else is doing gifts like him?? exactly 🙂‍↕️

he would love it if you gave him new tools he can use when he’s doing his forging!

jayce’s favourite holiday activity is making gingerbread houses!

mainly sneakily nibbling away at little pieces of you (you notice)

you two end up ditching the house and smear icing all over each other

he licks the icing off your cheek

you tell him how gross he is but he’s not fooled when you’re blushing and giggling at his antics

after you two finish your “break”, you get to work on finally completing the gingerbread house

doesn’t let you leave the kitchen until you’re done - he made BLUEPRINTS for the house

it ends up being more like a mansion when you’re done

he’s cheesing so hard when it’s done and he makes you pose with the house

he posts it on his instagram story with some dumb caption (“look at my sweet treat and the gingerbread house we made 😜”) and you only find out when your friends send it to you

jayce’s favourite christmas song is all i want for christmas is you

Viktor:

viktor gifts you customised skincare he made just for you!

he is more physics-minded but after hearing you complain about how all the products you tried just weren’t doing it for you, he decides to step up

spends so much time consulting chemists at the academy for help creating the products

“subtly” asks you questions about your skin so as not to give himself away

“your skin looks quite dry today, would you agree?”

says this in front of a bunch of people - you hate this man so much 😭

you’re so happy when he gifts it to you, you’ve never had someone listen so intently to what you talk about

you definitely cry into his arms and he’s a bit stunned but eventually holds onto you - you stay like that for a while

he would love it if you gave him fancy coffee to help him stay up in the lab!

viktor’s favourite holiday activity is going to the christmas markets!

loves the smell of cinnamon and cocoa in the air, loves how the cold air nips at his nose

the icy ground is a bit of a nuisance for his cane but he knows he always has you to help out, even if he hates asking ^^

makes you two look at all the lights so you can rate them

goes to basically every dessert stand and scarfs down an insane amount of sweet things in record time

likes to buy the weirdest snow globes he can find

viktor’s favourite christmas song is winter wonderland

Caitlyn:

cait gifts you a first-edition copy of you’re favourite classical novel! 

she had to pull a lot couple of strings to get it but she would do just about anything for you 

even though you’d be happy with anything she gives you, she places a lot of expectations on herself 

she stresses herself out over making sure you have the best christmas ever 

she would love it if you gave her clothes that she would actually wear, things she’s told her she likes - not just what she’s expected to wear 

cait’s favourite holiday activity is ice skating!

she’s honestly so good at ice skating you’re surprised it isn’t her job or something 

takes you skating on the frozen lake at her estate 

if you don’t know how to skate, she’s incredibly patient and teaches you the basics

she loves that you have to cling onto her so you don’t fall over 

if you know how to skate, she bashfully asks if you want to learn couple’s ice skating choreography with her 

has the time of her life doing lifts and jumps with you! 

wishes she could stay outside skating with you 

cait's favourite christmas song is underneath the tree 

Mel:

mel gifts you a holiday at your dream destination!

she has lots of money at her disposal and gifts you things all the time, so she really has to go above and beyond for this one

you complain about barely getting to see her due to her work on the council so she manages to get a week away with you!

has a whole itinerary planned out so all you have to do is sit back and relax

makes up for all the time she spent away from you by making sure you're both attached at the hip lol

she would love it if you gifted her one of those jars full of little notes with things you love and admire about that person!

mel’s favourite holiday activity is playing games by the fireplace!

at first, she’s off-put by the whole idea - she’s not a child

but deep down i feel like she’s quite lonely and yearns to feel like she really belongs somewhere, she’s just scared to be emotionally vulnerable

so when you come along she reluctantly agrees and finds that she really loves doing this at a time that reminds her of her estranged family

loosens up around you and feels like she can really be herself

she’s also very competitive so it adds more drama to it all

you guys definitely argue when you play charades or uno 😭

she makes it up to you by letting you win the next game even if it’s incredibly obvious

makes silly bets when you play - “if i win the next round you have to tell me what you got be for christmas”

she’s such a cutie

mel’s favourite christmas song is santa baby

Ambessa:

ambessa gifts you a spa day

honestly a bit of a self-indulgent present since her mind isn’t completely innocent with this gift

a spa day is a spa day however

she doesn’t celebrate christmas - it’s a useless frivolity that wastes precious time that could be used to train her army

she knows how much you enjoy it though so she makes an exception for you

you can tell her heart’s not in it but it’s sweet that she tries for you

she would love it if you made her an intricate meal with all her favourite noxian foods!

ambessa’s favourite holiday activity is making christmas cards!

well, she’s not the one making them

she just watches you make them

but she thinks the look of concentration on your face is quite endearing so she stays around to watch you make them

she’s surprised by how much effort goes into making them from scratch and she walks away with a new appreciation for your hobby

you could beg her to join but she’s just not gonna do it 😭

she likes you, but not that much

ambessa’s favourite christmas song is none of them unfortunately <\3 (she has a soft spot for feliz navidad)

Heimerdinger:

heimerdinger gifts you a jailbroken gaming console 😭

he spent precious time on that thing

doesn’t agree with doing things like that usually but it’s christmas

everyone deserves a treat every now and then!

hopes you’ll focus on your work at the academy more often if you have this

backfires in his face because you’re constantly on it now, oh well

at least you liked the present

he would love it if you you gifted him a song you wrote!

heimerdinger’s favourite holiday activity is secret santa!

he is SO bad at keeping his a secret 😭

he goes around the academy asking people about your hobbies, likes and dislikes

you know he has you by the end of the day lmao

he’s so cute you can’t even be mad

heimerdinger’s favourite christmas song is wonderful christmastime

AU!Claggor:

claggor gifts you one of his hybrid plants! 

this is a huge honour since they’re basically his children 

the one he gifts you was a seedling from the very first plant that managed to survive off the fissure gases 

gives you a whole speech on how to properly care for it (tells you the secret is to whisper positive affirmations to it every morning) 

he’s nervous gifting it you since it means so much to him, but he knows he can trust you to look after it 

it’s so sweet since he’s sharing such an important part of his life with you!

he would love it if you gave him cuttings from a rare plant you may or may not have taken from some rich piltie 

claggor’s favourite holiday activity is baking! 

he has his own apron and everything 

makes cookies and yule logs topped with marshmallows - he goes above and beyond 

makes enough to give out to family and friends 

he loves seeing people enjoy his labor of love, it makes him all fuzzy inside 

claggors’s favourite christmas song is it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas 

AU!Mylo:

mylo gifts you wool gloves!

you always complain about having cold hands so whenever you two are outside, your hands are always in your pockets

but he wants to hold your hand :(

so gloves it is!

two birds with one stone

he would love it if your gift was literally just a kiss under the mistletoe, he doesn’t ask for much!

mylo’s favourite holiday activity is scavenger hunts!

he’s another one who thinks certain activities are childish, but once he gets in the zone istg he’s shoving actual kids out of the way 😭

like i genuinely believe you would have to restrain him because he’s going feral over this

he needs to calm down tbh

probably loses to a five year old and sulks for the rest of the rest of the day

mylo’s favourite christmas song is a nonsense christmas

Silco:

silco gifts you expensive clothes and perfume/cologne

he’s got MONEY and i feel like he wants to make up for the fact that he’s never had much growing up, so he spoils you in all the ways you deserve

he rolls his eyes if you tell him you don’t want anything for christmas

as if he would let you celebrate the day empty handed

when you asked him for a big fir tree you got it, along with mountains of presents stacked underneath

way too many for one person

he watches you intently with a smirk on his face, loving the way your eyes light up with each present you unwrap

he likes having the satisfaction that only he can treat you like this

he would love it if you offered to inject his eye as a gift - he can’t really reject this, can he?

if you offered under any other circumstances, he would probably say no

silco’s favourite holiday activity is dressing up as santa!

ok hear me out

one day when jinx was younger she asked if she would see santa that year

and he just…dressed up as him?? and gave her presents??? and now it’s a tradition that’s stuck 😭

keep in mind jinx didn’t believe in santa at this point but he had no idea about this so he didn’t want her to be disappointed

his santa impression is just “ho, ho, ho” 😐 he’s so deadpan it’s hilarious

he has this tacky stiff beard and pillows stuffed under his costume

so when you find out about it, you beg to see it with your own eyes

it’s sooooo embarrassing for him but he loves making his favourite people happy no matter the cost

doesn’t let anyone else but you two and sevika see him like that

silco’s favourite christmas song is…the christmas song lol

Sevika:

sevika gifts you a custom-made gun, “to Y/N, from sev” inscribed on the handle 

she’s secretly whipped for you but can’t let anyone else know, how else is she meant to keep up her tough facade? 

teaches you how to use the gun - she doesn’t want you to be defenceless in the lanes, especially since you’re connected to someone like her 

her worst fear is someone hurting you to get to her 

she would love it if you got her a backup arm, god knows hers is always getting ruined considering all the fights she gets into 

sevika’s favourite holiday activity is watching christmas movies!

she rarely gets a moment to relax so when the holidays come around, she loves getting to chill with you on the couch 

you guys watch those awful hallmark movies and you spend the entire time complaining the the tv about how unrealistic and dumb the characters are 

she throws popcorn at the tv whenever her least favourite character shows up 

oooh i can picture you two sipping on mulled wine, sevika’s arm wrapped around your shoulders 

you’re basically snuggled into her lap and she lives for it 

would die if anyone saw her like that though 

makes it a yearly tradition to show you the picture she secretly took of silco dressed up as santa 

she basically glows inside when she hears your laughter ring out like bells 

sevika’s favourite christmas song is please come home for christmas 

Vander:

vander gifts you free hug vouchers lmao 

i see him as someone who values sentimental value over material possessions, so he came up with this genius idea >:)

you’re having a bad day? redeem a free bear hug!

you’re feeling sappy? redeem a free bear hug! 

you just want a hug? you don’t even need to ask! 

he was scared you would think he was just being lazy with this present but he’s elated when he sees you openly tearing up at it 

you both laugh at the christmas table over his present 

he would love it if you gave the kids a gift, it shows how much you care! 

vander’s favourite holiday activity is carol singing

except drunk (it’s for charity!)

drunk carol singing is good for the soul, or so he says 

i can imagine him and silco when they were younger wandering the streets, cheeks red with sappy grins straining their faces, belting out songs at the top of their lungs 

multiple people told them to shut up 

they just sang louder 

end up at the last drop where they have a karaoke session 

when he does get tips for his carolina, he uses it to help the most vulnerable people in zaun 

helping his people is his main priority  

vander’s favourite christmas song is let it snow

masterlist

[affableramen]

kinktober. their love language when they want it suggestiveness, smut, established stage of relationship

minors do not interact

Wriothesley

when he’s secretly horny and wants that with you, he acts incredibly messy and awkward. it looks very endearing in its own way how he bumps into things while walking or messes up his words because his tongue feels so twisted due to slight adrenaline rush

when he wants to have sx with you, it’s almost obvious even though he tries to keep it hidden. always collected and cool wriothesley appears somehow chaotic and out of his usual mood. you notice that his eyes have become softer, their colour slightly darker and deeper

as if feigning innocence he freely discusses work and domestic matters with you, while his eyes run up and down your face, finally stopping at your lips

he will awkwardly place his hands around your waist and let a shaky whisper into your ear “do you think we could… y’know… spend some private time together? as in bed activities, i mean. i’m feeling a bit needy today.”

Tartaglia

when he wants sx, he will be a complete opposite to wriothesley. tartaglia will suddenly become serious, sharply-looking and tensed up. he will be more collected than ever as if trying to win you over by being a good boy behaviour-wise

he will not speak a word to you, and it will be quite unexpected from someone usually quite extraverted and generally active. he will do everything the whole day to satisfy you: at work, training, domestic troubles - anything really, he will follow you everywhere like a dog and be very attentive to what needs done to help you 

when you ask him why he is so quiet, you will see his lips slowly twitch into a smirk as he responds “i was just gathering enough stamina to give you the best night of your life”

you feel swayed and smitten, coz you did not expect his seriousness to cary a hidden desire of being with you tonight. “so you put that whole show on because you wanted to have something tonight?” and given how quiet and well-behaved he is today you consider giving him what he wants (and something that you want too)

Neuvillette

his behaviour will be different from usual not because he suddenly sends you a bouquet that is even more luxurious than the previous one a few days ago, but because his whole mood seems unnecessarily flirty

usually a calm, smooth and husband-like neuvillette goes to work, picks you up from work and arranges a quiet dinner for the two of you in your favourite restaurant or orders for home, but tonight he gives it a real stretch: neuvillette basically books a place in the extremely expensive restaurant, and the table is quite detached from everyone else, next to the panoramic window, the room extremely dimly lit. you are surprised but also amused by his passionate attitude and it’s difficult to guess that he wants the continuation of the romantic dinner later in your bedroom

he will not ask for it, he will explicitly tell you that he wants to have sex with you tonight, that he is in the mood for some passionate activity and ready to give you pleasure

getting rid of his solid formal suit he will lay you onto the bed with his strong hands and stay naked in front of your for a couple of seconds just letting you admire his hard-on. and even if you are long behind early stage of relationship, and intimate activity isn’t something impressive to you, neuvi will find a way to make it less dull and more thrilling

Pantalone

you will know that he wants it after feeling his fingers linger on your waist, hand or shoulder slightly too longer than usual. as if starved for touch, pantalone will seek opportunity to graze his fingers against you. he is not super awkward like wriothesley, but the “eating” look on his face would definitely give him away. and the way his answers to your questions come later and he seems to choose his words very carefully might also be a sign that the man is quite horny

sudden nude photos he will send you. they can be both explicit or simply suggestive, but he will let you know about his mood

he sends you same day delivery gifts that contain very, i’m telling you, very beautiful lingerie that must be implying some sort of fantasy from him

the banker is not the type to dive into lust the same minute he feels horny, but he definitely has a timing for his turn on, so he will let you know, very subtly and intricately, that he kinda has a problem down there, and he wants you to help him fix it. also, he finds having sex in the office tacky and against his office etiquette rules, so he will wait until the two of you get home. but don’t be too sure that he won’t start seducing you right in the vestibule - he loves pressing you against the wall of his mansion lobby and taking you right there, not possessing enough patience to lead you into the bedroom

Dottore

he seems to be constantly involved into his work and focused on tasks appearing on his tablet or monitor, but during the break you notice that he acts like you’re the centre of his world and work can wait. you feel his hand roam over your ass during the kiss which is unlike him, the doctor must be very horny to touch you so intimately during a simple kiss

suspiciously quiet and agreeable the whole day as if he wants something but doesn’t say :) he holds your hand way too often and sensually grazes his fingers over it as if he cannot get enough of your presense and scent while being extremely supportive of whatever you suggest 

questions that are completely out of place: like if you would agree to take aphrodisiac with him, if you ever considered stimulants or other ways to make your intimate time memorable

looks at you slight a bit too much that everyone in the room takes notice of. at this point, everyone knows what’s going through dottore’s mind, except for you, because he seems quite normal for you (he will let you know what he truly wants once the work is finally finished and he can sin)

Capitano

he will be quiet for the most of the day as he’s trying to come up with a decision on how exactly his tsundere ass is supposed to confess about being horny

cold treatment by acting dismissive and hostile which ends as soon as the both of you’re finally alone without others’ eyes and ears. and just as the two of you finally get a chance for a private moment capitano will be at loss for words, his tongue is suddenly slurring words and he looks like he forgot how to speak at all, before you explicitly ask him if he wants something 

mostly you are the first one to bring the initiative of being intimate, but once he’s done with the cold treatment and both of you know how horny capitano is, he will be suddenly too attentive to your presence. his eyes will be literally glued to you. that happens because while you’re around, even simply sitting on the sofa across from his desk, it gives him a hard-on. he just finds you too irresistible, especially in the days when he feels a bit sensitive and wants to indulge in physical intimacy 

the kisses suddenly become too long, steamy and almost burning. you can feel capitano’s hardness accidentally press against you, and you move your body closer to feel his firmness more, which makes the both of you very aware of your physical needs before he finally acknowledges “we haven’t done it for a while, and i want you. badly.” 

Dainsleif

when he wants sex he will be around you the whole day. he will be clingy, sticky and super touchy which amazes you, coz dainsleif is generally super closed

he will wait for you like a loyal man until you finish you work and be completely free for the night. he will chat with you during breaks and might even attempt into dirty talk for once. dainsleif is very good at controlling his impulses but you are his forbidden fruit which he wants to savour immensely, so he will probably not just sit iddly waiting until you somehow read his mind and invite him in

when he is horny, he dresses amazingly. his suits for dates that request continuation in the bedroom are simply delicious. you might want to contact is tailor because you’re astonished by your boyfriend’s style and you wanna match him

he will slowly stand behind your back and run his hands over your waist, pulling you closer will he devours your neck. his fingers will roam over your evening dress until their reach your chest and touch you intimately. that’s his way of telling you he wants to have sex with you

Alhaitham

when he has needs, it’s not like you will learn about it right away. alhaitham himself is not too sure whether what’s happening to him, so he’ll first give it an overthinking. first waking up with a hard-on, then spending the whole day with the same turn on because of how you looked in a video call during your break time… his mind is full of messy thoughts and his body is craving something 

he will try to seduce you different ways. his most common one is coming out of the bathroom with only a bath towel covering his groin, and his hair soaking so sexily while his eyes remain cold and detached. the sight of him gives you naughty ideas and you feel yourself aroused, that’s for sure

the other seductive method will be Alhaitham spilling his coffee on his trousers and waiting for you to help him out. he is very sly when it comes to getting what he wants while staying subtle

if the both of you are in the bed, he will start moving closer to you, inch by inch, while holding a book in his hand like an undercover for his urgent needs. in the meantime if you accept his invitation, he ends up in close proximity with you, the closeness that is deemed most intimate, and you start feeling his stiff body pressing against you

Baizhu

usually you are the one who initiates any intimate activity between you two, but if baizhu is suddenly horny, maan it’s going to be a show. he is very silly when it comes to his love language when he wants it. he thinks that his oddly repetitive smiles that seem sticked to his face are not suspicious at all. when baizhu is horny he smiles a lot to you, which of course raises suspicions though he thinks he is entirely innocent 

he will suggestively graze his fingers over your body when you two bump into each other, and his fingertips will always linger on your waist (that gives you goosebumps and make you suddenly feel hot)

he will discuss irrelevant things like weather or even complain about his customers, intricately avoiding the main subject - his hard on

once you learn about his hard on (his coat doesn't do well keeping it hidden) you realise the reason to the whole back and forth game between you. you discuss it in private when no one listens and since baizhu is the one giving away his spicy mood, you kindly give him control saying that he is in charge tonight because you’re curious what his horny ass was thinking about in his wet dreams

[babyleostuff]

things they unconsciously do for you | ot13

[☁️] seungcheol

protecting you

choi seungcheol is a protector through and through (you could say that sometimes he’s a tad too protective, but it’s simply because he loves you so much and he would most likely end up with a meltdown if he saw you hurt). covering sharp corners, walking on the outside of the pavement, holding your hand in big crowds, cutting the meat for you - doing all of these things is like second nature for cheol. he never thinks about doing them, like “oh, they dropped their spoon, maybe i should cover the table corner so they don’t bump their head”. no no. he just does it, simple as that. and good luck to the person that tries to make you uncomfortable or invade your personal space because well… choi seungcheol will fight them

[☁️] jeonghan

wrapping you up with a scarf/ putting on beanie 

jeonghan, as someone who gets cold easily, is very vary around the people around him being cold as well. he’s always more than happy to share some of his body heat with someone else, especially because hugging means more warmth. when it comes to you, though, there is no way you’re getting out of the house without a thick scarf and a beanie. it doesn’t matter if you get easily cold or not, jeonghan does not let you out of the house before you’re properly bundled up. the first thing he grabs when you’re getting ready to go out is your/ his scarf and a beanie, and he dresses you up like a mom dresses up a child, but there’s nothing you can do about it. and if you come to the practice room without anything wrapped around your neck, jeonghan is quick to change that, as he pulls out his own scarf to give it to you.

[☁️] joshua

ordering for you

sometimes being social - even if it’s just ordering food - can be overwhelming, and shua understands that completely. he never judges you for it, he could never, and that alone makes you feel so much better. he never minds it when you cling to his arm, standing beside him while he’s ordering coffee, or when you point to the food on the menu so he could tell the waiter what you want to eat. sometimes he doesn’t even has to ask you what you want to order because he knows you so well by now that he can guess what type of boba you’re craving that day or which type of pasta you want to get. 

[☁️] jun

brushing your hair 

jun likes his silent acts of service, brushing your hair being one of them. whether it be after you wake up, or after a shower, jun finds brushing your hair to be very calming, so it’s also a way for him to distress and spend some time with you as well. sometimes you sit in silence, sometimes you talk about your days, but it’s always so intimate without being sexual, and there’s something beautiful about that. and he adores looking at your sleepy reflection in the mirror, your eyes closing on their own, as he gently runs a brush through your hair, making sure not to pull too harshly.

[☁️] hoshi

carrying your bag 

it doesn’t matter what colour it is, if it’s a tote bag or a small baguette one - hoshi is going to carry it, like the gentleman he is. for one, he figures it must be uncomfortable and tiresome to carry a bag around all the damn time, also he doesn’t want you to strain your shoulders too much, so whenever he’s around he is going to be the one to carry it. and he always makes sure before you go out that you have all of your necessities packed in case you forgot something too. also, as much as he’s easy to distract, when he holds your bag at parties he turns on his bodyguard mode, protecting that bag like his life depends on it, clutching it closely to his body (will glare if someone dares to step too close to it).

[☁️] wonwoo

taking of your glasses after you’ve fallen asleep 

as a person who wears glasses himself he knows how annoying and uncomfortable it is to fall asleep with your glasses on (not to mention that they can break too), so this is as natural as breathing for him. he probably has a couple of photos in his camera roll of you asleep with your glasses on, but sometimes you look too adorable for him not to take a quick picture for him to coo over later. he always gently takes them off as not to wake you up, and places a kiss on your forehead, before putting your glasses away so they wouldn’t break on accident.

[☁️] woozi

(i don’t really know how to name this?) 

woozi is an insanely attentive man, which is one of the reasons why he’s so great at those silent acts of service that make your heart flutter so much. he picks up the smallest things - like shifts in your mood when you’re upset or feeling a bit down, and while at the beginning of your relationship he was a bit awkward with that since he wasn’t really sure how to help you, now he knows exactly what you need. it’s not even that he has to think about holding your hand or hugging you, or just simply sitting next to you - it’s almost like his body gravitates towards you on its own, like it knows you need him by his side in that moment. you could argue that it’s the bare minimum (which it is), but with jihoon it’s so natural, like i hope you get what i’m trying to say - but the way he’s always there right by your side when you need him without having to mention that you’re not feeling that well is everything you could ever ask for. 

[☁️] dk

holding your hand in big crowds 

all seokmin wants is for you to be happy, loved, and safe. grabbing your hand when you’re in big crowds is a no brainer for him, it’s like his hand moves by itself, finding yours, and intertwining your fingers. he never lets go, not before he’s sure you’re safe with a smaller amount of people around you, where you wouldn’t get lost or swarmed by the crowd, and even then he usually keeps on holding your hand. and if you get stuck in a big crowd, like during a concert or a festival, he often pulls you to his chest, and puts his arms securely around you, so he’s sure no one will bump into you or step on your foot.

[☁️] mingyu

cooking for you 

mingyu loves cooking and eating, that much we know. but what he loves more is cooking for you. to be honest, making food for you has always been something obvious for mingyu, from the very beginning of your relationship, and he never saw it as a chore or something he felt obligated to do. preparing breakfasts on your days off, making you lunch for work/school, cooking dinner for your at home dates - it brings him so much joy because not only does he get to do what he loves, but it also reassures him that you’re eating well and not skipping any meals (whenever he finds out you skip meals you end up with a very sulky and low key angry kim mingyu).

[☁️] minghao

buying you clothes

it’s not that he doesn’t like your style or thinks you’re bad at choosing your outfits, on the contrary - during the first stages of your relationship he payed a lot of attention to what you liked to wear, and for which types of clothes you went for, so that he could spoil you with clothes and accessories you liked, making sure you’d be comfortable in them and feeling 100% you. now, whenever he saw something he knew you’d like he immediately bought it, with no second thoughts. it’s kind of comforting to know that your significant other knows you so well that they know exactly what you’d like or what would draw your attention if you were shopping yourself.

[☁️] seungkwan 

singing/ humming you to sleep 

it’s not like he lays down and automatically starts singing, but he does that whenever he sees you need it. sometimes it’s singing, sometimes it’s only humming, but it’s like his body just knows you need something to soothe your mind to fall asleep. whenever he feels you shuffling around, tossing and turning, unable to find a comfy position - he gently grabs you by your waist, and pulls you a bit closer to him, and starts singing/humming. he doesn’t think much about doing it, it’s like an automatic response because one of the most heartbreaking sights for boo is seeing you unable to rest, unable to get your well deserved sleep.

[☁️] vernon

refilling your snacks drawer 

there’s just something about vernon and him noticing all of those small things about you, and what you love. and one thing you definitely love is him and your snacks. he noticed early in your relationship that you had a drawer in your kitchen dedicated solemnly to your favourite snacks, but also how bad you were at refilling it. thus, he took it upon himself to refill it so you could always have something to munch on, and with time it became such a habit of his that he stopped paying attention that he was actually doing it. whenever he was doing grocery it was obvious to him that the first aisle he had to go to was the snacks aisle so he could pick up all of your favourites. 

[☁️] dino

refilling your water bottle 

another very attentive man with acts of service as his love language. whether you’re actually good at keeping track of how much you drink, or if you don’t pay much attention to it - chan always re-fills your water bottle for you (he was probably the one to buy it in the first place, choosing a colour to match your aesthetic). he knows how important it is to drink proper amounts of water throughout the day, so making sure you drink sufficient amount of it is as natural as brushing his teeth for him. whenever you’re studying/ working he comes into your room, grabs your water bottle and re-fills it. same as when you’re getting for school/work in the morning - he fills it with water, and puts it back in your bag (sometimes he sticks a note to it as well, with a cute “i love you” message).

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[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version can be read on ao3 HERE

.

“Need a hand with that?”

Derek didn't drop the tire he was carrying, but it was a close thing. He'd recognise that voice anywhere—would know it in a sea of a thousand others.

He slowly turned on his heel to find its owner sat in Derek's favourite tree.

Stiles.

“You're here,” he breathed, not bothering to hide the mix of shock and relief that coloured his own voice and features.

Stilesʼ lips twitched. “I'm here,” he confirmed, just in case Derek needed to hear it.

“Hey,” Derek said, eloquent as ever.

“Hey yourself,” Stiles grinned back.

Shifting his weight on the tree branch, Stiles then pulled himself up to standing. He wiped his hands on the ass of his jeans before proffering one towards Derek.

“I'm Mieczysław Stilinski. It's really nice to meet you, dude.”

Stilesʼcheeks flushed an overwhelmingly pretty shade of pink, and Derek wanted to eat him.

Reaching out to take the hand in one of his own, the pads of his fingertips brushed the familiar Jack rabbit pulse at Stiles's wrist, for just a second, and it was both a calling card and like a huge sigh of relief.

He turned the name around in his mind.

Mieczysław. Mieczysław Stilinski.

It was unexpected, and very Polish, and Derek sort of adored it.

Looking a little antsy, Stiles said, “It, uh, means 'sword' in Polish. If you go in for that sort of thing.” He blushed some more and then snorted at himself. “But yeah, I know it's kinda... ʼSʼobviously why I go by Stiles—which was my Grandfather's nickname too, by the way.”

Derek's heart swelled in his chest.

This was what they could've had if things had gone differently for them.

He cleared his throat, took a deep intake of woodsmoke-laced air into his lungs, then said, “Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, third son of Talia and Seth Hale of the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills county, North California, and I'm very pleased to meet you're acquaintance. Oh, and do not call me dude, by the way.”

“Broderick? Are you shitting me right now?!” Stiles blurted, trying and failing to not laugh.

Derek rolled his eyes and it felt like breathing. “Seriously? I think you'll find you don't have even half a leg to stand on, Mieczysław.”

“Actually, I have two, Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, and I diligently used the both of them to come out here to Bumfuck nowhere to find you.”

He shot Derek with ridiculous finger guns then blew away imaginary gunpowder smoke, and if it wasn't for the kid's beard it could've easily been thirteen-years ago.

Not a kid anymore.

Stiles looked amazing. A little broader, and a little fuller in the face, and the beard really, really suited him. At once, Derek had the desperate urge to sink his claws into it and paw at the pale skin beneath. He wanted to back Stiles into the bark of the tree and bury his nose in that long, mole-peppered neck he still had dreams about, to breathe in pure unadulterated Stiles.

He swallowed thickly, licking at his dry lips and wishing they were Stilesʼ. Had to force himself to unclench the fist not currently grasping Stiles's hand.

Derek had to try his best to pretend that he wasn't very aware of the fact that they were still very much holding onto each other.

“Broderick means 'brother' in Old Norse, if you go in for that sort of thing,” he offered, borrowing Stiles's banter.

Stiles's smile was easy, albeit tainted with a hint of sadness for that piece of information. He was sort of—looser. More relaxed, and definitely less agitated than he used to be. Though he smelled exactly the same as he always had: Of strong coffee and Bath & Body Oak shower gel and wild cinnamon and lemon sherbet dip, and that particular warm smack of something that Derek had always struggled to place—the very essence of Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski.

The familiar tang zinged over his taste buds like popping candy, and his wolf took up its routinely impatient pacing at his core as if they had seen Stiles only yesterday.

“I'm—uh, I don't—you look good, Stiles. Really good.”

This human was the only creature on planet earth that had Derek Hale fumbling his words.

Stiles was smirking his signature smirk—only there was something new pulling at the curve of that life-ruining mouth of his.

Unerring confidence.

Derek sniffed at the air and licked at his lips again so he could taste that, too.

“You're look pretty fine yourself there, Sourwolf,” Stiles divulged, mirroring Derek again by licking his own lips. He shamelessly looked Derek up and down and said, “Your edges aren't quite so sharp, and you're little softer ʼround the eyes, like maybe you're—I dunno. Something closer to being happy?” His eyes shone like the full moon in the dark when he told Derek, “And, dare I say it, maybe not even all that sour anymore?”

Derek huffed a breath out through his nostrils that was in the proximity of a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Looks good on you, man. Really good.”

Stiles was borrowing Derek's words, and if he kept saying things like that to Derek while looking at Derek the way that he was, Derek would have to restrain himself from picking the guy up by the scruff of his very nice sweater and kissing the words right out of his mouth.

Then everything sort of stilled, somehow, including the wind, and the birds, and them, as if the whole world had just halted for something incredibly important.

They stood there, just gazing at each other. Like there wasn't anything else they could or would possibly be doing right now.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

It was obvious to even the blades of grass on the ground that they both still felt it.

Slowly, slowly, they caught back up to reality.

Derek took a breath and found his voice again.

“Might've taken a few pointers from a kid I used to know,” he smiled, eyes never leaving Stilesʼ.

Then he thought in for a penny and admitted, “I hoped you'd come looking for me—and I want you to know that I'm really, really glad that you did.”

Stiles squinted at him through the sun's afternoon rays that broke through the Colorado cloud cover like the heavens had suddenly appeared. In that moment, he reminded Derek of the beautiful golden Aztec Sanvitalia shrub that grew down by the little stream behind his cabin. He wondered briefly if that was the missing base note in Stiles's scent, and felt a little insane with it all.

“Well, I knew I'd find you,” Stiles shrugged, “because one: I'm like a dog with a bone, and two: You left a trail of breadcrumbs so fucking vague only a genius like yours truly would be able to follow.”

He then shielded those big brown doe eyes of his from a particularly bright sunbeam with a still-bony hand, and the squinted look on his face was so fond Derek had to sink his canines into his lip to hold in the pitiful whine that threatened to climb up and out of his chest and escape him.

He stepped closer to the tree; closer to the boy who runs with wolves, who was definitely not a boy any longer.

“You make it sound as if we're in some sort of fairytale, Stiles,” Derek said as he attempted to blink Stiles's beauty from his eyes, knowing it would be a fruitless endeavour.

Finally, Stiles reached out to pull Derek down and into his lap, and Derek went like a force of nature.

He dropped the tire this time.

Stiles smelled like love when he said, “Weren't we always, Der?” right into Derek's mouth.

And Derek knew.

As Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly, and he kissed Stiles softly right back, he knew they both understood that although they had to travel far from Beacon Hills to find it, they had both—at long last—made it home.

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to leave me a comment <3

i saw the new dob shoot and my brain remembered the hoech one and went ping! this is for @wulfnerd seeing as they came up with the wonderful Broderick as Derek's full first name in the tags of a post of mine who knows how long ago...

unedited, please be forgiving <3

[kimingyuslover]

Sweet Revenge

Synopsis : You get into a fatal car incident, but later you wake up and find yourself back in the past. You vows to take revenge on your adopted family.

Word count : 7,750

Pairing : Choi Seungcheol x reader.

Genre : Romance, revenge drama, contract marriage, time traveler!au & smut.

Warnings : mean stepmother & stepsister, mentions of car crash and fire incident, CEO SEUNGCHEOL, make out session that leads to both individuals doing sex, smut, red leading to black flag ex, infidelity (not reader and seungcheol), mention of period, sexual tension(?), lovey-dovey couple, sexy and delicious seungcheol 🫦🫦, simp!seungcheol, he fell first and they both fell harder.

★ THIS IS MY VERY FIRST FIC THAT REACH MORE THAN 3K WORDS AAA, and sorry for the delay because i forgot what the ending was supposed to look like, also the smut warning below. enjoy reading it, xoxo

☆ check out my other works > main masterlist

Smut warning : making out, pussy eating, cream pie, BIG DICK!cheol, reader sucking on seungcheol's fingers, breast play(?), sex without protection (don't do this shit in real life) this is my first time writing smut, lmk if i miss anything!!

“You can't just break up with me when you know our wedding is near!” Hearing that makes your blood boil, he’s right, your wedding is near, but don't you think it's too much? Get married with your fiance after knowing he likes your sister and they have an affair going on?

You don't even know how you can return to the time before Se-hyuk & you get married. All you remember before is you're in a coma after big accidents between your car and theirs. And now you're wearing your cancelled-wedding dress, in the boutique store that you remembered has been closed.

“I shouldn't even fuck with you, Yoon Se-hyuk” That's all you say before you ripped the gown, paid for it and then go straight to your car without sparing a glace at him.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“Han y/n! Se-hyuk is searching for you” You sigh heavily, you already blocked his number & any other social media platform so he can't annoy you anymore, but now he's coming to your house? You wonder how much audacity he has, because he was brave enough to come here after you made him gone in your life.

“Tell him to go home!” You don't want to see his face anymore. Every time you remember it, your heart aches so much that it brings your eyes to tears.

You know you have never been so lucky in your life. Your stepmother opens your bedroom door, telling you to talk with Se-hyuk.

You told him to talk with you outside, and he's holding onto your hand like a lost puppy.

“I told you to fuck off, didn't i? What is wrong with you? I told you don't be near me anymore!” You yell at him, and before he can even answer, his phone rings and when you both look at the contact name, you decide to be the one who answers the call.

It was his mother, “Hello? Se-hyuk, I'm searching for a hanbok right now, and they have a lot of variety. What colour do you think would match me well?” After a few seconds of silence, you answer her.

“Pink and green will suit you the best auntie, and for your information, our wedding is canceled” You can hear his mother's panicked voice, asking what is wrong with your relationship, but you didn't answer her, you hung up the phone and put his phone on shut down.

“Go away, Yoon Se-Hyuk” You said and turned your back to go back to your house.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“So, you're Han Yu-ra?” The guy in front of you asked and made a smirk raised from your lips.

“No, I'm Han yn. I'm her sister, and I'm the one who’s going to be married to you” The sentence you left out making him arched one of his eyebrows, telling you to explain yourself.

“Here's the deal, we’re going to get married, you go back to Taeja's group, and both of our companies will merge and I get to have my revenge” You said calmly, while looking him dead in the eyes and smiling through your lips.

He asked what's in it for him. Luckily, you've done your research, “you can get your revenge on your brother too, isn't that what you wanted?” You tell him and your expression is cocky.

Both of you closed the deal and started making the rules to live in while still in your marriage life.

You are aware of your surroundings. There is a paparazzi that takes your photos, and Yu-ra is also in that lounge, walking to search for the man in front of you but then surprised by your figure that sat with him.

You had asked your cousin– who also deeply hated Yu-ra, to help you check Seungcheol's background and being the paparazzi at the hotel and will be the one who published the rumor for both of you.

She also knows about you going back in time.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Seungcheol brought you to his room to discuss the matter of your marriage, and suddenly, a question came to his head.

“Why did you choose me to have revenge on your family? Am I that handsome?” He asked while confidence was plastered on his face as he poured the wine for both of you.

You scoffed, didn't know what to say for a while because of his demeanor, “Because Yu-ra liked you, and also you're not my type, so don't be a big head”

His smirk faltered after hearing your response, and a scowl replaced his confidence.

Both of you are drowning your sorrow with the wine filling up the hollow of your body.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

A Few weeks passed, the rumors started flying in his company too, and now Seungcheol is in a meeting with your ex.

“Do you realize she's just using you?" Se-hyuk says to his boss, his tone dripping with arrogance.

The audacity of his words makes Seungcheol blood pressure spike. After everything he’s done—treating you so cruelly and having an affair with your sister—he still refuses to let you go? What the hell is wrong with him?

“That’s none of your concern, Manager Yoon,” Seungcheol replied sharply. Then, with a calm yet pointed smile, the CEO added, “And for the record, I don’t care if she’s using me. I love her.”

Se-Hyuk glares hard at his boss.

Maybe he still loves you, and doesn't want you to go run your own life, because after all you both have been in a relationship for a decent time, 5 years to be exact and the moment before you ended everything is 3 months before your wedding.

He knew better than to press the issue further. Instead, he turned his attention to the proposal his team had submitted. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind wandered elsewhere.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

"Aww, so you shut him out like that? You really love me, don't you?"

Seungcheol was used to your teasing by now, and he found it oddly satisfying to play along.

"Of course. You're my dear fiancée. How could I not love you with all my heart?" he replied, a smirk adorning his perfect features.

The two of you continued your playful banter late into the night. Eventually, you realized he had caged you beneath him on the sofa in the apartment he had bought for you both to share.

His intense gaze shifted between your eyes and lips before he slowly leaned in, his right hand cradling the side of your face. You responded with your lips brushing against his, a silent invitation.

When your lips met, Seungcheol kissed you like he was afraid of losing you, his touch tender yet passionate. You knew better, though. He loved it when your kisses turned wild— something you'd learned firsthand during your first kiss in a hotel room, a memory you cherished.

Your hands threaded through his black locks, pulling him closer as soft grunts and moans escaped your lips.

After what felt like ten minutes of an intense make-out session, He finally pulled back to give you both a chance to catch your breath.

Without hesitation, he asked, "Bedroom?"

You nodded in response.

Your relationship might not have started romantically, but deep down, something told you this could be the best thing that ever happened in your life.

Meanwhile, you and Seungcheol are having the time of your life, Se-hyuk is trying to get Yu-ra to go home because earlier she called for him, and he can tell that she's drunk.

He's rushing to the bar, throwing Yu-ra on his shoulder to take her to her house (which basically, yours too).

But a plan can't always get in your way, can they? Yu-ra is drunk enough to have Se-hyuk stop the car in the stinky, small motel, so they can do the activity a soon-to-be brother-in-law and soon-to-be sister-in-law shouldn't do.

Even when Yu-ra is kissing him like a mad woman after entering the room, Se-hyuk still thinks about the afternoon event that makes the girl who sat between his legs pissed and starts to attack his sensitive spot on his neck so she can get his attention.

Pretty good to say, both pairs having an intimate time that night.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Here's the difference, Choi Seungcheol woke up from the best sleep he ever had with a smile on his face when he noticed you're still in his arms.

On the other hand, Yoon Se-hyuk was scared shitless when he saw Yu-ra's and his naked body and the motel room they booked for the night. He quickly gathered his clothing and put it on so he could leave the room fast.

Now, he can't even blame you for the canceled wedding anymore. He knew he was an asshole back then, but now he feels like he's a total dickhead because last night he fucked your sister, despite knowing that there's a cold war going on between both of you.

He’s still trying to win you back, with a constant push from his mother and sister, who many have labeled a gold digger.

Yes, he marries you for your money, that doesn't mean he doesn't love you, does it? Well, he admits, at first glance, that he has already fallen in love with you, the way you sit and talk elegantly about your interest, and that you are also searching for a husband.

Then, there comes Yu-ra who is always trying to steal his attention away from you to her, and that she always wears a slightly more provocative outfit when he's at your house, telling him that she already feels comfortable with him.

That leads to another. They started seeing each other more often without you knowing, and they started developing feelings for the other individuals, making it so complicated.

He doesn't know how you can find out about his affair with Yu-ra because both him and your sister are sure that they're playing clean, at least that's what they thought.

Unfortunately, you saw them minutes after the hard car crash. That puts you in a fatal condition where you can even speak or move your body. You can only move your eyes.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

After you woke up, your fiancé decided that it's time to have a shower, and he insisted that you both have to do it together.

It’s nothing dirty. He just takes care of you after the little act last night and having a light conversation with you, and what surprises you is that there's no awkwardness lingering between both of you.

The CEO said his schedule today is packed, so he’s going to come home late, so you told him you will be joining a cooking class that his mother attends.

You know Seungcheol's mother isn't quite fond of you, so you want to change her mind and want to start a good relationship with her.

It's 10 a.m. and the house is already empty, leaving the cool air behind.

“So, do you have any reason why you want to join this class?” Jamie– the owner of the class, ask you. So you answered, “yes, i want to sometimes cook with my fiancé, and my soon-to-be mother-in-law is joining this class, so i want to start a good relationship with her”

Jamie nodded with a satisfied smile, and then she talked to you about the rules on this class and other information you should know.

The odd thing is, Jamie looks a lot like your mother. They even had the same scar that looks like they have the same cause– a cat.

After she explains everything, Jamie brings you to her class and starts introducing you.

Seungcheol's mother looked surprised by your present, and then she shifted her eyes to her table again.

You greet her, and you're lucky because the table you got is side by side with her.

“Why do you join this class?” She asks, tone sharp, and she doesn't even know why it can come at such a tone when she didn't mean it.

“I heard from Seungcheol that you joined the cooking class here, auntie, so i said to him i'll give it a try to bond a good relationship with you” you answered calmly.

She gives you one last glare before deciding that it would be best for her to just ignore you.

When the class is finished, she told you to meet her at the café nearby, wanting to have a talk with you about your relationship with her son.

“I’m just going to ask you the point here” she says, making you gulp hard on her glare.

“Do you even love my Seungcheol? how can I trust you when I know your relationship with your ex has failed because you canceled the wedding!?”

You won't lie, that words cut deep into your heart, your body is shaking and your eyes are glossy, you want to get out of there soon, but before you can even open your mouth, she strikes again.

“Look, you can't even answer that question. How can I give Seungcheol to you when you can't answer the basic question I ask?”

Another voice joins in, a male voice that you and her are familiar with, because that's your fiancé's voice.

“That is not your business mom, the only thing that matters is I love her and she’s willing to try a relationship with me, isn't it enough?” He angrily said to his mom, and he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat, then you both walked away.

You are still sparing glances towards your back to see Mrs. Choi's reaction, but she just looks at both of you in horror.

Seungcheol doesn't even spare her a glance anymore, he just goes straight to the parking lot while still holding your hand to guide you.

“You okay? She doesn't do anything to you, does she?” His voice etched with worry that was evident on his face.

“It's okay, Cheol. She didn't do anything to me”

After you calmed him down, both of you entered his car, you questioned your car but he said a driver will pick your Mercedes up a few minutes ahead.

The strings of ‘sorry’ seem to never stop falling from his lips, and you can only tell him that everything's fine and he doesn't need to apologize.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“Ya, Han Yu-ra, what’s your sister like? She's marrying my brother, so I need to know her” of course Yu-ra and Se-hee— Se-hyuk's sister, knows who that voice belongs to.

Choi Seungchae, Seungcheol's sister and a well-known celebrity slash influencer in south korea.

“She's selfish, and always talks bad about people even if she is close with them, you know she was also adopted by my father, right?” Yu-ra said with a smirk on her face, that Seungchae wants to scratch her face with her perfectly fresh-made manicure.

Se-hee nodded her head upon hearing Yu-ra's words, she also added, “And you know? she’s the one who cancelled the wedding between her and my brother!”

“Also, I followed you on sns, can you follow me back? it'd be an honor to me!”

“I'm sure she has her reasons to end things with your brother,” Seungchae pauses before continuing her words, “and doesn't your description sound like you throw your sister under the bus Yu-ra? No? I feel like that is much more to your description, not hers”

She then walked away out of that store with her friends while they were laughing about Se-hee who bluntly asked her to follow back her SNS so she can brag to her other friends.

Yu-ra twitches her eyes, she can't even make Seungchae like her? What does she lack? She's perfect and she's going to tell her mom so she can ruin both family dinners.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

When Mrs. Choi goes to Seungcheol house, she didn't expect to see his son and you both sleeping together.

it's nothing serious, she would say. because Seungcheol's sleeping on the couch while his hands are holding onto yours who's sleeping on the floor with the position that could probably make your neck uncomfortable.

Startled by the sound of the door being unlocked, you shot your eyes open and found it weird that Mrs. Choi is here, she doesn't usually come in without any notice before.

You want to greet her first, but she quickly shuts you down and then grabs your hand to take you outside.

You want to protest, but before any words come out of your mouth, Mrs. Choi brings you to her embrace and starts hugging you tightly which makes you worried, what's wrong?

“Are there any problems, auntie? I’m sorry, I didn't mean to sleep here, I dozed off without knowing last night” You babbled to her, waiting for any impact that might have gone to your face.

Instead, she pulled away from the hug and started speaking, “I never seen him sleeping peacefully since he's graduated his elementary school because of his trauma, thank you for making him sleep like this again”

You don't even know what to say when she hugs you again, this time a little bit shorter, and she says, “You have my permission to marry him, the only thing you have to achieve is that i want you to join Taeja's group again”

And there's where your real revenge starts, with the help of your fiancé's family, of course.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Both your family agreed to have dinner together on Sunday night in Taeja’s group restaurant that they had reserved, only for the family.

Mrs. Choi doesn't look so fond of your stepmother, she knew about the backstory of your poor life because of her.

Meanwhile your father— Han Jiwoong, greets the other families with a genuine smile, your stepmother uses her sly smile, making everybody in Taeja's family start to scoff at her, even Grandma Taeja.

After half an hour greeting each other, here comes the main topic of why Taeja’s family and yours are having dinner tonight, it's to discuss your marriage.

“Our company will begin merging after they both get married, you don't mind that, right?” Grandma Taeja asks your family, especially your stepmother because her eyes are pointed to her.

She answered her with that mischievous smile of her, “we'll gladly accept that, grandma”

“But our daughter is not perfect, so we aren't really sure if she can be married with your grandson” she continues, and that makes your heart burn with anger.

“As you know, she works as a painter that only sell 2 or maybe 3 pieces total in her life, she can't cook on her own, and also adopted” The words that she threw at you make your heart pounds a thousand times than your average, all of that makes you nervous, but Seungcheol hold your hand to tell you he's here and everything is gonna be fine.

Seungchae seems to be confused by the tension from your family, she whispers to her husband, “what is this? Why are they trying to make their daughter look bad?”

While her husband only shook his head that means he doesn't know.

“I don’t care about the pieces she sell, my family is rich, we surely can make her life comfortable without her lifting up her fingers” Mrs. Choi said as she also knows about Han Jiwoong's wife's plan to drag you down.

Seungcheol chimes in, joining the conversation, “I'm the best cook in my family, you don't need to worry about both of us not eating, I can make her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we can also go out sometimes” His answer is sharp, undeniable.

“We also don't care about her being adopted, there's nothing to worry about, and we have 90% control of the media in South Korea, so we can shut them down if we want to” He added to ensure that anyone from your family can talk bad about you anymore.

Few hours passed, and the dinner was already finished minutes ago. You and Seungcheol are both satisfied by the dinner and also his family answers to yours.

“It's okay, they're good people” Your fiancé said to ease up your worries that were written on your forehead.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Summer is soon turning into autumn, and your relationship label is turning into husband and wife after being engaged for 3 months.

Today is the sacred day for you and Seungcheol, both of you will say the vows and a contract hidden beneath that.

Your father walks you down the aisle, a beautiful white gown draped around you, fitted bodice that accentuates the waist and a voluminous skirt that flows out dramatically made of satin.

You choose a sweetheart and off-shoulder neckline to anctuates your collarbone, and a natural looking makeup so it doesn't overwhelm you.

The veil made out of tulle, makes your face look beautiful in the altar lighting.

The procession goes really well, and you soon know that's because your step sister hasn't arrived yet.

after the guest and family member announce their speech— including Seungchae and her husband crying while reading theirs and it makes your heart warm at the sight, and Seungcheol's brother's cold speech that looks like it's just for formality.

When the photo session though, everything starts to irritate you a little, because not only your stepsister have arrived, she also wears a white dress, hoping to outshine the bride— yes, you.

She even goes live on social media, “Guys, look at my stepsister, she really looks beautiful isn't she?” while holding your hand, which you let go.

“I'm sorry, Yu-ra. I'd love to hold hands with my husband only” with a smile on your lips, filled with dread for her to take a hint.

“I love you, my wife” Seungcheol said, and you answered the same.

Both of you lean towards each other, letting the photographer take your sweet photo while kissing so happily and a grumpy Yu-ra beside you.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“Okay, so now what?” You ask your now husband, after the wedding ends.

“Why are you still asking? We’re going to have a Honeymoon, and we're taking the first flight to Jeju tomorrow” He said, making you feel ridiculous talking to him.

So you hit him, hard on his shoulder, “You said you're scared of the beach and ocean because of your childhood, we don't have to if you don't want it, we can go anywhere” You answered him and remembering his fear of the ocean that he told you a few while back.

“If you can face your fear, and eat my food without me having to do it first, so can I do it too, you're telling me we are in this together, right?” He looks at you like you're the one putting stars one by one in the sky.

And without a doubt, Jeju is where you both go.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“It's not that bad” Seungcheol says after you both reach your bedroom, and clean yourselves.

You gave him a smile, “right? it's calming” as you climbed to the bed, your brain turning his gears to think about the sleeping position tonight.

“Here's a pillow, you go sleep down there” Your words make Seungcheol furrow his eyebrows and eyes wide, “No! We can go sleep in the same bed”

The way he said it so casually makes your eyes also widen, you both definitely can't sleep on the same bed.

“I promise i'm going to hold your hands while we sleep–” before Seungcheol can even finish his sentence, you already throw the pillow to him.

“No!” You yell at him to make his eyes go even wider, which makes you smile sheepishly at him, while muttering soft ‘sorry’.

“You have a dirty mind, we wouldn't even do anything” and finally, you tell him, “okay, you sleep here”

And just before he can express his happiness, you added, “i'll sleep there" while grabbing your pillow and starting to get up from bed.

Well, of course Choi Seungcheol has to be a big headed person he is, so he caged you on the soft bed, making it impossible for you to move.

A week before your wedding, Seungcheol confessed that he has feelings for you, maybe that's why you don't want to sleep together.

“You don't believe my words, do you?” he asked, and the way you stay silent with your eyes wandering anywhere but him makes Seungcheol even more sure about his question.

His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes again, only to find you already doing the same.

Slowly but surely, he leans in, both you breath hot while your lips brushing the slightest.

it feels like you're so close but so far to his liking, so he grabbed the back of your head to push your lips to clash with his.

The kiss soon got heated with both of your tongues joining in, your lungs burning at the sensation begging to tell you to pull away from him but your brain keeps ignoring it.

Fortunately, after a few seconds Seungcheol pulls away, making you chase his lips that are stained with your lipstick, meanwhile yours was plump and glossy.

Your hands paw weakly on his shirt after gripping it like your life depends on it, silently asking him to put it away, and with that look in your eyes, how can he refuse?

Seungcheol wasted no time to take his shirt off, leaving him only in his black trouser.

You're now technically gawking at him, but how could you not? His bicep is big and you can even see the veins become more prominent. Looks like he's god's favorite, and that's why he has that body of a god.

Seungcheol goes to the bed again, only to find you still staring at him. Looks ready for him to cherish, and to ravish.

He kisses your lips again, but this time it's rougher than the last one, soon the kiss starts going to your neck and the sweet spot behind your right ear.

his hot breath fanning over your skin, makes you shudder. His next move lets you out a whimper, but how can you not? He cups your pussy through your short silk nightwear.

“Cheol” you moan, holding his bicep while looking at his other hand that goes under your top, fondling with your right breast.

Seungcheol can feel himself getting worked out. The trouser he had picked earlier today feels a little strained to his liking. He can't hide his growing bulge anymore.

He starts undressing you, taking his time while kissing the new spot he sees, while you can only whimper and moan out because you can't think of anything other than him.

“You're wet, baby” it's true, you've been wet since the moment your kiss got heated, and everytime you think of his demeanor, you caught yourself in a sinful scene.

You grab his black lock when he decides to dive in without giving you any warning, the sudden act makes you scream out loud, you don't really care who's gonna hear you, the hotel receptionist told you the suite was soundproof.

Your husband can tell you are close, so he pulls away from your cunt and you can see his chin and mouth glistening deliciously with your essence.

Without any words, he gets up to take off his trousers and boxer. His cock is massive with veins noticeable to your eyes, even though you two had sex before this, but you still amaze at his size.

You whine at him but he quickly shuts you up with a deep kiss to your lips and slowly he starts pushing himself inside of you, not wanting to hurt you.

His thrust started slow, but when he's sure you adjusted his size, he becomes rougher with you, grunts heavily heard here and there from him.

“Open” His words leave no room to argue, when you do open your mouth, he inserts his middle and index finger.

He smirks before opening his mouth again, “Suck my fingers, sweetheart” He left you speechless— not that you could answer him or something, you begin to suck eagerly, wanting to be a good girl for him.

After only a few thrusts, you can feel your stomach tightening a sign to warn that you're going to cum, and Seungcheol was aware of this so he fastened his pace, also reaching for his own high.

The way you clench around him makes your husband's head feel dizzy, and the time you cumming it also triggers him to come hard inside you, filling you to the brim.

He didn't immediately go off of you, he rested himself for a minute and when he did get off you, he carried you to the bathroom to clean yourselves out.

“I love you, baby” He said while carrying you, never in a million years he's thinking of saying that to someone. “And I hope you love me too” Seungcheol added.

The sweet moment makes your heart start warming, and you just hope that there's no other torture you'll get in this life.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Of course, your torture doesn't stop there.

Yu-ra is still snooping on your marriage life, and Se-hyuk is still being your pain in the ass.

One day, though, he's going inside your house and finds a file of treasure, the truth inside your wedding.

He quickly tells Yu-ra about it, and they both make their cunning plan with the help of your stepmother.

Meanwhile, you found out that you are your father's real daughter after taking a DNA test. The result makes your heart clench, so he abandoned you and decided to adopt you again?

And Yu-ra is not even his real daughter, all the torment you had in all your life just to know you're the real one?

“You're home late tonight, it's unusual of you, why?” Your husband asks why slowly walking to you while crossing his hand, and before he can say anything, you just go to wrap yourself on his body, wanting nothing but to be held by him.

The seconds he had you in his embrace, tears started falling from your eyes, your expression pained seungcheol to the deepest of his heart, willing to do anything to stop them.

A few minutes pass and you finally tell him what's going on and why are you home late at night crying your heart out.

The moment he hears the reason, he instantly soothes you down with his hand, silently telling you that it's okay to cry and you will resolve this problem together.

Since the honeymoon, you two got closer and eventually you started to like him too, your routine becomes more and more like a husband and a wife should be.

you sleep on the same bed, cooking or baking together, and even have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together.

Seungcheol's family also notices this, even Seungchae always teases both of you for it. His grandma also becomes more welcome to you, and being the kind person she always have, sometimes she invited you to Choi's manor to have brunch together with her and Mrs. Choi.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

Seungcheol and you entered his family's manor at the same time, his mother told both of you to come here everyday, but since you’re busy you often call off her invitation.

But today is an exception because you and your husband don't have any schedule.

Mrs. Choi is already waiting for you at the sofa right before the entrance, she gets up to greet you.

Seungcheol is already having his hands in the air beside him, waiting to be hugged by his mother while closing his eyes.

After a few moments, he can't feel anything that close to his body, so he opens his eyes and can't believe what he is seeing.

His mom hugged you before him, when he saw this, he whined “mom! I'm your son, why is she getting the hug first!?” He said while slightly pouting and looking at you with a playful glare which you responded with you sticking out your tongue at his direction, mocking him.

“She’s my daughter! Of course i would hug her first, beside you don't come here as often as her and i'm angry for that” She defends herself after letting you go from her embrace.

The lunch was filled with a lot of laughter echoing in the table and the talk about everything you could ever imagine with cranky Seungcheol at his mother's house.

It's not a problem to have your husband sulky, because you know how to make him normal again, so you hold your chopsticks that you use to pick the galbi to his mouth, muttering ‘aaa’ to him.

Seungcheol looked at you weirdly and not wanting to take a bite but gave in when you kicked his shin beneath the table.

When your stomach is filled to the top, you three go sit in the living room and hold a conversation about your businesses.

The talk soon died down when an uninvited guests came barging without everyone knowing they would be here, it's your stepmother, Yu-ra and Se-hyuk that you think so pathetic because of how on's on his knees for you last week on a police station but now he's on their side.

“Oh, good. You’re here, mom” The words coming out of Yu-ra's mouth make Seungcheol’s mother want to gag. She doesn't have any right to call her that.

She was searching for a document in her purse, and when she found it, she shoved the paper to your face. She smirked before opening her mouth again, “your son and my sister are having a marriage that is based on a contract. She wants to use your beloved son for her own goods”

Mrs. Choi unfazed as she took the paper slowly, training her eyes into it before forcing her eyes to Yu-ra's again, she chuckles.

“First of all; don't call me like that, I don't want you to call me ‘mom’ because you don't have the right, second of all; do you not know literally anything beside this? I also participate in this contract. You should read it first before barging into my house like that” She gets up from her seat, and starts going to your stepmother.

“Teach your daughter some manners, how come she has a mother but doesn't have any manners or shame walking like that at someone's house? She must be getting it from her mother” You can basically see there's a lot of smoke coming out of her head, being the embarrassing attention to her because of her daughter.

Your mother-in-law also goes to your ex, “What kind of man are you? Why are you still interfering with your ex who has already married life? You’re the one who found out about the contract, are you? I checked the CCTV when I went there, and you know it can get you to prison, right?”

Her words leave three of them speechless, and before she turns around, Se-hyuk is already on his knees.

The sight makes you roll your eyes in annoyance, and the thing that makes you want to throw up is the fact that he started apologizing hundreds of times.

But she just stood there quietly, that's when you noticed the front bodyguard already at home, dragging all of them out of the house.

And after a few moments, the lady asks you if you're okay and when you said you're fine she turns to her son to give him a long well needed advice.

It's already sunset when you both decide to go home, and Seungcheol holds your hand throughout the ride, an act to comfort you.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

It's been weeks since your last encounter with Yu-ra, it happened just 2 days after the incident in the Choi's manor, she slapped you real hard before chucking her glass of water at you.

“You're a fake daughter of my dad, so let go all you have because you don't deserve it and you never will! you take everything that's mine!” She said with anger, the fiery glares she threw at you filled both of her eyes.

The way she started mocking you and even bringing up your biological mom hit your nerves, so you slapped her back, twice and smirked at her “Who said I'm the fake one? call father if he's aware of it”

When Yu-ra got home, she got into a big fight with her father or stepfather, she's not his biological daughter but you are, and then her mom did nothing as she was just as speechless as her.

turns out you already sent him the file before Yu-ra's incident, oh and how he is mad is unbelievable because he also found out that his wife now already knew about it and didn't say anything.

He yells at her, and this is the one time everybody saw him losing his control, slamming the door right behind him, leaving the house hollow and cold because he takes the warmth from there.

While your family is having their problems, you're digging for Jamie– your cooking class mentor, if you'd remember, She “accidentally” tells all the students that she has a daughter but gets separated after an incident in her house.

And with that you're pretty sure she's your mother.

Her gestures, the way she talks and even the scars feel close to your mother, and she always gives you the warmth you had lost since your past incident.

After a few days of searching, the result of the DNA test you took with Jamie came in your mail.

Tears start brimming on the edge of your eyes, the test result is that you're 99,9999% share the same DNA with her.

Seungcheol is there too, watching all the scenes with both of his eyes, and when you start getting weak after reading the paper, he saves you from falling to the ground.

There's one question in your head: Why should she leave you alone with your hell of a father?

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

The time you confronted Jamie about your test result, she invited you to her house to talk about this more privately.

When you go inside her house, she immediately hugs you tight on her arms as if she is scared to let you go again.

She tells you about the incident details, that she was locked in her bedroom when the fire started, she's calling anybody for help, but the only one she can hear is your stepmother's voice that told her to stay put in her position and that she will have to die.

Your dad and you were getting groceries together and she can come because she has to finish her painting before tomorrow comes.

She got a second degree burn on her right hand but got out just right before the house exploded because of the gas.

And the left side of her hand has the exact same cat scratch you saw the first day.

She said that she moved to the states after that incident and after knowing you're in the hand of your father because she needs a treatment that only america has, not knowing that your father left you a month after she left to the states while you're at a foster home.

No words exchanged after that, just a comfort silence filled the room while you both cuddled up on her sofa, watching your favorite movie of all time— according to your 7 year old self and your mother who remembers it.

You already told Seungcheol about this, and he said that it's okay and you need to have a quality time after a long time not meeting your mother.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

A month after you met your mother, she decided to move into the house beside yours and Seungcheol, wanting to be closer to you.

Your father finally comes to his senses and always shows up at your mother's front door while holding a bouquet of Daffodil and some peonies.

Yu-ra and her mother got their karma.

Your stepmother's crime was finally discovered by the media and police, she's doing fraud and selling fake pieces of art.

The one who reported her? Your family secretary— Kim Jae Won, and how does he know it? Because most of the art that your stepmother sells is his father's painting, and he always knows his father's signature and the pen he uses, he is not going to be fooled by her.

Oh, and Yu-ra? She gets pregnant and wont even come out of her hotel room because the baby is already 7 months old— you heard from the Taeja's group hotel receptionist while you want to visit your husband.

She eventually got kicked out because Seungcheol's brother doesn't pay for the room anymore— yes, Han Yu-ra fucked with Seungcheol's big brother.

That's why she comes again to the Choi's manor, wanting to tell them that it's their son's baby.

Wrong choice.

The only one who was at home that time was Mrs. Choi and Grandma Taeja, they're having a girls talk while smiling to each other when the others talk or even laughing.

That's it until Yu-ra comes with her big belly and also a big suitcase.

She confidently tells both of them that she is currently pregnant by the seed of their oldest son.

“Well, they have a machine that can test the DNA of your baby while it's still in your stomach, they have it in Germany, want to try them?” Grandma Taeja says, without any words and panics evident in her eyes, Yu-ra gets out of that house and goes to her other victim's house.

Mrs. Choi and grandma Taeja then laugh at her antics, how can she be that confident without thinking of other things ahead of her?

“Oh! Han Yu-ra you're pregnant? Who's the father?” Se-hee technically freaks out when she sees Yu-ra standing in front of her porch while dragging a big ass suitcase.

Without any care of the world, Yu-ra blurts out “Your brother” that makes Se-hee's brain start to stop functioning at the very second.

She says that loud enough to be heard by Se-hee's mother and Se-hyuk himself with a woman she doesn't want to know anything about (probably his soon-to-be wife) hears it.

Well, upon hearing that of course Mrs. Yoon doesn't want her son's possible marriage to be ruined by some girl, so she gets up from her seat and walks to her while telling her to go away.

but when she gets closer to Yu-ra, she just shoves her away and goes straight to Se-hyuk who's still sitting at the dinner table.

He stood up nervously, and then the bomb finally said out loud, more clearly, “he's your suitor? don't accept him,” then Yu-ra's eyes made eye contact with Se-hyuk's “I'm pregnant, and he's the father”

The girl storms out furiously while grabbing her purse, straight to the open door of the apartment.

Meanwhile Yu-ra dragging Se-hyuk to his room, she chuckles slyly, before asking him, “how can this baby live in this small house?”

Se-hyuk takes both of her hands and looks up to her, “Why don't we live in your house? It's good for the baby to live there”

Hearing that Yu-ra's blood started to boil again, she slapped his right cheek, leaving him with a bright red cheek.

“Why can't you take the hint? if i'm still living there i would not even step foot on this small freaking apartment! my father disown me and then he proceeds to fucking throw me out!” She yells at him.

Well that’s the ending of hee story, you would say pretty tragic, right?

Meanwhile, she's suffering.

You actually have a good life, and now you sat on the dinner table with Soojin— the same cousin who took the pictures of you and Seungcheol the first time and Seungchae who is now helping your mom in the kitchen with her cooking.

Soojin and Seungchae have a competition, which of their food that you'll love, and basically the winner gets free chicken and beer for a month.

But after they finish cooking and you start to pick up the food with your chopstick, you suddenly feel a lump going up your throat, and now you feel like you want to throw up.

So you ran to the bathroom, there you threw all your guts out without any hesitation.

When you got out of the bathroom, you found three of them looking at each other in silence, “what?” You break the silent atmosphere because they all suddenly turn their heads at you.

Soojin spoke first, beating Seungchae that just opened her mouth, “when is the last time you had your period?”

Then everything starts to kick in. Your period is late by 3 weeks now, and you always have that morning sickness.

“I'll grab you a test” Your mother said hurriedly, after a moment.

When she took it out of her bag— which you don't know why it's there, you went to the bathroom again, for checking.

The result came out positive, so when you tell it to everyone, they start hugging you like crazy, and your mom brings you to the dining room, insisting that you have to eat more.

[⋆✴︎˚｡⋆]

“So, any news today?” Seungcheol just got off work and he's asking you while hanging his coat.

You fiddle with your fingers, confused how to tell the big news to him, so you just said, “I'm having a morning sickness and my period is still not coming today”

Without any warning, Seungcheol holds your waist and behind your knees, and now he's carrying you with bridal style.

“Maybe you need some refreshment?” You see what he's doing now, so you just blurt out, “I think I might be pregnant!” while closing your eyes, probably expecting him to drop you immediately.

Instead, he puts you down slowly then just stares at you very lovingly with his eyes brimming with tears.

He opened his mouth like he would say something, but nothing came out, just a big gummy smile from him.

And then he starts getting closer, his hot breath fanning at your skin and your lips just a few centimeters away while holding eye contact with you.

That soon breaks by him and he starts kissing you slowly, passionately, while thanking you and praising you between the kisses.

Revenge is complete, and now you have a loving husband besides you while carrying his and your love.

[yapuniversity]

thinking about sweet boyfriend nanami who worries too much about you when you’re on your periods. “are you okay, baby?” he asks in that sweet, deep voice of his. you can't help but smile at his expression - his cute brows frowning together and his pretty lips pressed in a thin line out of concern. you cup his face in your palms and gently place a kiss on his forehead, reassuring him. “i’m fine, love.”

he rests himself on his knees in front of you while you’re sitting on the sofa. his arms placed on your hips possessively as he caresses your soft skin under his fingertips. “is your tummy hurting?” he asks, not convinced with your answer. your stomach was, in fact hurting. but looking at his growing concern over you, you couldn't help but lie. even though you liked the fact that nanami was constantly checking up on you ever since you hit your monthly cycle, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt eating you alive anytime he took a break from his work to look after you. yes, you did admire the fact that he cared about you and took mini breaks in between to make sure that you were fine. but you were worried that you were getting in the way of his work.

but of course, being the sweet and loving boyfriend nanami is, he constantly assured you that you were not in the way of his work and that he wanted to take care of you. he needed to take care of you.

“you’re my entire world, sweetheart,” he’d say every time you spoke about this matter. “i can't bear the thought of you being in pain. let me take care of you, please.” he’d say, his eyes never leaving your face. and everytime he looked at you like that, you knew that there was nothing but love behind those captivating hazel-coloured eyes of his.

so, when a “yes” slipped out of your lips - when asked if your stomach was hurting, he swiftly got up on his feet and lifted you in his arms, his grip protective.

“you rest. i’ll bring the hot water bag, okay?” he says, his words coming out more like a command rather than a suggestion. you have no other option but to stay quiet and obey. and you had to admit it, you liked it when he spoke to you in that tone. you liked the idea of him being in control. you liked the idea of him proving his affection towards you.

you see, nanami’s second most evident love language is acts of service and no doubt, the first one being physical touch. and then comes words of affirmation. but, he’s obviously never told this to you because he has never shown anyone this side of him. you on the other hand have noticed each and every one of his move. “i have never felt like this for anyone,” he’d say, and you could see the truth in his words. he’d made it clear from the start that he was a sucker for you, and only you alone.

he opens the door to your room and gently places you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. “you comfortable, baby?” he asks and when you nod a “yes”, he pulls the covers over you.

“i’ll be right back,” he says and a small smile spreads across his lips when he sees you opening your mouth to ask him where he's going, but he places a finger on your lips and says, “nuh-uh. no questions, no arguments. do you trust me?”

the question catches you off-guard. trust him? of course you trust him. you trust him more than anyone in your life. you trust him more than you trust yourself.

“of course i do,” you say, defensively.

nanami can't help but grin at your words. “then wait for me,” he says and kisses your temple. you don't say anything because you know that he wouldn't listen to you. especially after you told him that you trusted him.

ten minutes pass by and you were almost about to fall asleep but then you see nanami coming into your room, a hot water bag in one hand and a massaging oil in the other. he sits next to you, his weight compressing the mattress ever so slightly under him. he pulls the covers down to your hips and places the bag on your stomach. “does that feel better?” he asks. the warmth of the bag almost gives you an instant relief from your pain and nanami notices this. “see, i told you that you could trust me,” he says proudly and you can't help but grin at his words.

“do you want me to massage your stomach? for some relief?” he asks, taking your hand in his and intertwining his fingers with yours. his gaze never leaves your face and you almost feel shy. he’s been your man for a long time now but the feelings you have for him are still the same as when you first met him. raw, beautiful, and intense.

a “no” somehow comes out of you and he nods in understanding.

you suddenly wake up to the bag being lifted from your stomach and you immediately look at nanami. you had no recollection of falling asleep. “shit,” you curse under your breath and nanami’s gaze immediately meets yours, his expression looking like he's been craving to hear your voice for a long time now.

“sorry, i didn't mean to wake you up,” he says and places the bag at your bedside table.

“how long was i out for?” you ask, lifting your body up and resting on your elbows.

“almost an hour,” nanami responds nonchalantly.

“what were you doing for so long?”

“watching you sleep,” he says, shyness in his voice.

your face turns red at his words and you say, “im so sorry i kept you waiting.”

“you didn't, doll,” nanami says almost immediately.

you let out a heavy sigh and you hear nanami ask, “how are you feeling?”

you subconsciously place a hand on your stomach and say, “better. much better.”

nanami’s lips curves upward into a smile. he walks over to you and gets on top of you, pressing his needy lips against yours. his gesture takes you by surprise but you could almost immediately sense the feeling of urgency in his touch, almost like he's been holding himself back from kissing you like this. you kiss him back with the same intensity and after a few seconds, he reluctantly pulls away. a disappointed expression immediately takes over your face and this makes nanami chuckle.

“i'm not moving too fast, am i?” he asks, hesitantly.

“shut up and kiss me,” you say almost immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips against his. he kisses you back with the same eagerness and cups your face in his palms. he pulls back once more and this time you can't help but feel irritated.

“why do you keep pulling back?” you ask, angrily.

“because i’m afraid i’m putting too much pressure on you,” he says, reluctantly.

“you’re not, nanami. kiss me, please.”

nanami couldn't hold back anymore. he grabs your face and hungrily slams his lips onto yours. he parts your lips with his tongue and lets out a low satisfied growl when he gets a taste of you. he presses his body against yours and you could instantly feel the bulge in his pants. your arousal heightens and you wrap your legs around his waist, pressing his hot and heavy bulge on your innocent cunt.

you pull away from his lips and beg, “fuck me, please.”

nanami pants against your lips and you could feel his cock twitch at your words. “no, baby,” he says, biting his lips as he tries to control himself.

“why?” you ask, your voice breaking.

nanami’s face evidently flinches at your broken voice. a pained expression taking over his face. “as much as i want to, love- i cant. it’ll be too much for you and your body is already delicate and sensitive since you’re on your periods. i don't want to hurt you.”

you sigh in defeat because you know he's right. and you know that he never denies your needs. but when he does, you know it's for your good.

“you’re right,” you say in a low and sad voice.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he says and you can feel the genuine guilt in his voice.

he kisses your neck in appreciation. he lifts himself from your body and you feel your thighs aching at the absence of his touch. but unbeknownst to you, nanami gently lifts up your shirt and looks at your exposed stomach. he places his hand on your stomach and feels your warmth under his palm. he brings his head down and gently brushes his lips on your exposed skin, nuzzling his face here and there in order to envelop into your scent. he then rests his head on your stomach and looks up at you with affection in his eyes. “i love you,” he says, almost in a whisper.

your eyes soften at his words.

“i love you too,” you say as a smile spreads across your face.

a small grin plays at the corner of nanami’s lips.

you brush your fingers against his hair and he closes his eyes at your contact. he hums in satisfaction under your touch.

do not plagiarise, copy, translate or repost my works on any platform!!!

divider credit - @xurengu0 <3

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: first kiss, dry humping, premature ejaculation, established relationship, virgin!yuuji, crack ending — i couldn’t help myself, lol.

wc: 1.5k

the first time you kiss yuuji, he blushes so hard that even his lips feel hot to the touch.

the sudden rush of blood that overcomes his face makes them puffy and almost kind of swollen; it’s very pleasant to kiss him because of it. whenever you open your eyes just to sneak a quick peek at him, the deep rosy colour only turns more and more prominent with every kiss.

they part rather quickly when you gather the courage to push further and press your tongue against his bottom lip, hopefully hinting well enough that you want to deepen the kiss. and you’re in luck; yuuji is eager to grant you your wish! the way his hands tighten their already somewhat tenacious grip around your hips so that he can pull you closer tells you so.

so you sit on his lap; chest to chest, arms wrapped around his neck, both of you feeling safe and secure in the darkness to surround you. you can’t see him all that well — the only way you were able to notice the colour of his lips and the blush that still steadily tints his cheeks and neck was because your phone had lit up with a notification, which you had promptly decided to ignore in favour of making out with your new boyfriend.

and your new boyfriend tastes impeccably sweet, you’ll give him that. like bubblegum that’s as pink as his hair and the one you’re currently swapping between your panting mouths every so often because he forgot to spit it out before you had started making your move. it makes his saliva taste sugary. it makes your taste buds overstimulated.

you groan into his mouth at the flavour and his entire body goes entirely stiff at the sound. he pulls back with a pop sounding out, the film of sweet drool causing your mouths to feel sticky as you part. it stretches in the small space of emptiness between your faces, a thin silvery string that glimmers in the small light of your phone screen when it lights up for a second time. your friends are so curious and nosy about him, aren’t they?

speaking of curiosity: yuuji looks at you with that exact emotion riddling his features, dark pupils steadily growing in the darkness of the room. his eyes are so big and his heart is pounding — you swear that its rhythm is rattling against your chest now. even concealed in shadows, you can tell that he’s looking at you like a deer caught in flashing headlights.

“what’s wrong?” you murmur, voice breathless, teeth chewing on the gum that’s since lost its flavour. it’s like he’s sucked the air straight out of your lungs with the kisses, you can barely talk. “did i do something you didn’t like…?”

“n-no, i liked it; i liked it a lot! i just—” he starts quickly, almost spluttering to get the words out as fast as he can, however the small gasp that slips out of you when a certain kind of hardness pokes against your underwear then instantly breaks his sentence into nothing.

you’re in a little skirt, he’s got sweatpants on. warmth pools between your legs at the way the ridge of his cock presses between your folds now, making your pussy practically eat up your underwear. you’ve got so many layers of clothes separating you from him, well at least he does, but you can feel the pressure, the warmth, the thickness as it grows, grows, grows.

goodness, his cock is big, isn’t it?

some kind of daze overcomes your mind at the realization, urging your hips to seemingly roll all on their own. it’s been a while since you got any so it’s no wonder that instinct takes over in a blink of an eye. you succumb to it completely with zero shame, and the grunt yuuji lets out in response to your ministrations doesn’t sound anything like him. it’s so deep and dark and male-like, coming from the very back of his throat, that it makes your skin feel way too tight all of a sudden.

he wants to ask you what you’re doing, what you’re planning on doing, but he finds himself incapable of forming a word, much less a full sentence. everything feels so good, so overwhelming and raw. all he can muster is a pathetic little gasp — similar to the one you had let out just a moment prior discovering how hot and bothered your kisses have actually made him. your pussy just feels so fucking soft, after all; he can tell how soft it is even with his sweatpants on.

his breath hitches in his throat when you readjust and really press on the boner that keeps on pushing up against the thick cotton so stubbornly now, sitting on it properly this time despite the fact that there’s no skin to skin contact yet. your fingers run through his hair, nails dragging along the back of his head as you do so, and your warm exhales tickle his face. you’re so close that your tits are pressing against his chest, dulling the nervous bouncing of his heart.

he’s melted into putty that you play with and knead with your greedy, grabby little hands. you kiss him again, teeth painfully clicking because of the eagerness, and his lips are so tender, practically red by now — for fuck’s sake, has his face always felt so fucking hot?

your palms slide down, blatant excitement overcoming your mind at the sight and feel of him, at all the noise he’s making, at the feeling of that goddamn monster that he’s been hiding from you in his sweatpants for all this time. they move along the sides of his neck, over his broad shoulders, down his firm chest. you fist his t-shirt as you kiss him even deeper than you did before, angling your head to the side as much as you’re able so that you can really taste the inside of his mouth and glide your tongue across his pretty teeth. back and forth the flat, pearly-white surfaces.

meanwhile, yuuji is holding you like you’re his only chance of survival; squeezing you so hard that it makes your bones ache. he’s so much stronger than he realizes, the way his fingers keep digging into you, desperately trying to make sure that you’re actually real, is uncomfortable, however you still continue to grind yourself against him like a dog.

your pace is quickening with every swing of your hips against his own, your pulse is skyrocketing, adrenaline rising, heart going absolutely fucking wild. your skirt rustles as it rises up your thighs, exposing more skin, making him touch every inch that’s out in the open. the friction is good, not nearly enough to make you cum, but if you can keep it like this for long enough, maybe, just maybe you’ll—

the sudden moan that rips out of yuuji’s throat is as vulnerable as much as it is slutty. he might be a virgin — or that is what he’s told you at least — but he sure sounds like a fucked out whore when the pleasure ripples through him in one great, unstoppable wave and sinks his thoughts into the murky depths below. he doesn’t even stand a chance when it comes to taming it or holding it off.

his hips jerk upwards and the muscle in his jaw flutters as he cums; you can feel it dance under the tips of your fingers when you caress his face in attempt to soothe him. his skin has gotten so slick with sweat in these past few minutes that they practically glide along the edge as he breathes heavily. you can even taste the salt that you’ve kissed off his cupid’s bow earlier.

it all happened so fast.

“yuuji?” you say his name quietly at some point, your voice a mere whisper. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips but you force yourself not to show it in fear of offending him for spilling warm, milky white release directly into his boxers so quickly. “are you okay?”

“no.” a whole minute passes before he finally rests his head back against the backrest of the couch, takes one deep breath and says, “i think… i think i completely messed up my pants just now.”

you laugh at this, unable to stop it. he’s flustered, yes, but not embarrassed or guilty, so you deem it safe to tease him a little. “come on, don’t say it like that!”

“why not?” he asks, blinking tiredly.

“‘cause it makes it sound like you shat yourself or something!”

he snickers at the taunt. it’s boyish and wicked, just like the glint in his eye is now that the fog of lust is slowly clearing up and his sanity is creeping back. “well, with the way i’m feeling at the moment, i just might have.”

you punch him in the chest playfully. “you’re so gross… and nasty!”

“yeah,” he mumbles as he catches your fist into his hand so that he can kiss it tenderly. “you said it first, though.”

and with the way things are going, it seems like you’re going to become his first fuck really soon as well.